LONG 
 STRAIGHT 
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 GEORGE 
 HORTON
 
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 THE LONG 
 STRAIGHT ROAD
 
 Why Dolly, how young 
 yop look !
 
 THE LONG 
 
 STRAIGHT 
 
 ROAD 
 
 By GEORGE HORTON 
 
 " Times are changed with him who marries; 
 there are no more by-path meadows, where you 
 may innocently linger, but the road lies long and 
 straight and dusty to the grave." 
 
 Robert Louis Stevenson 
 
 ILLUSTRATED BY TROY AND 
 MARGARET WEST KINNEY 
 
 INDIANAPOLIS 
 
 THE BOWEN-MERRILL COMPANY 
 PUBLISHERS
 
 COPYRIGHT 1902 
 THE BOWEN-MERRILL COMPANY 
 
 SEPTEMBER 
 
 PRESS OF 
 
 BRAUNWORTH A CO. 
 
 BOOKBINDERS AND PRINTERS 
 
 BROOKLYN, N. Y.
 
 TO 
 
 CHARLES E. RUSSELL 
 
 POET, GENTLEMAN, FRIEND 
 
 2136435
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTHR PAGE 
 
 I A LITTLE SUPPER 1 
 
 II IMPARTIAL ADVICE 26 
 
 III BEHIND THE SCENES 40 
 
 IV APRIL HOPES 51 
 V ASSURANCE AT LEAST 68 
 
 VI A MATCHMAKING 67 
 
 VII THE DIE IS CAST 89 
 
 VIII THE LAND OF DESIRE 94 
 
 IX A HOME GARDEN 107 
 
 X A MISCALCULATION 115 
 
 XI CULTURE IN A FLAT 126 
 
 XII A STEIN ON THE TABLE 137 
 
 XIII AT THE PIERIAN SPRING 151 
 
 XIV ABOUT MEN AND HORSES 166 
 XV THE CORRECT MAN 185 
 
 XVI ACCORDING TO SCHEDULE 208 
 
 XVII A CHAT WITH A CYNIC 209
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER *AGE 
 
 XVIII THE CITY FATHERS 225 
 
 XIX THE HEART OF THE CYNIC 289 
 
 XX A GERMAN CHRISTMAS 254 
 
 XXI ANOTHER CALCULATION 270 
 
 XXII A RIFT WITHIN THE LUTE 287 
 
 XXIII PRIMITIVE METHODS 295 
 
 XXIV MISCHIEF IN A LETTER 806 
 XXV ONE SORT OF POET 816 
 
 XXVI A LOTHARIO OF FIFTY 826 
 
 XXVII ANOTHER SORT OF POET 839 
 
 XXVIII THE HAPPIEST MAN 848 
 
 XXIX THE TRUMPET NARCISSUS 855 
 
 XXX HIS ONE CHANCE 862 
 
 XXXI A CLEAN RECORD 878 
 
 XXXII A CRUCIAL MOMENT 879 
 
 XXXIII MY CUP RUNNETH OVER 888
 
 THE LONG 
 STRAIGHT ROAD
 
 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 A LITTLE SUPPER 
 
 A young man stood at the intersection of South 
 Water and State Streets, looking west. His hands 
 were in the pockets of his raglan coat, and there 
 was an American cigarette in his mouth. He was a 
 product of city life, and of large city life at that, 
 and he had become accustomed to seeing the world 
 through clouds of soft-coal smoke. His visual 
 nerves, moreover, were dulled by the fierce impact 
 of electric light, by which his office was illuminated, 
 even through many hours of the day, and he was 
 therefore almost blind to those revelations of nature 
 which show that she is yearning over her lost chil- 
 dren of the cities. He was looking with but a 
 vague sense of wonder and awe at a picture worthy 
 the pen of a Dante or the brush of a Turner. 
 
 About him in all directions save one towered the 
 great, grim, implacable city, graying and chilling 
 beneath the* wing of descending night. Countless 
 l
 
 2 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 tall plumes of smoke, black at the base and blue- 
 gray in the feather, swayed and nodded in the wind 
 upon the roofs of buildings. Every few moments, 
 when the breeze swooped downward, they fluttered 
 to the street and sifted the air full of grimy dust. 
 The whole effect was titanic, sulphurous, pluto- 
 nian. Electric lights gleamed fiercely through the 
 shifting vapors as coals might glow in the smoke of 
 hell. The Masonic Temple lifted its lean stories to 
 the sky as though it were a great rock pitted with 
 little holes and tunnels and caverns for the dwellers 
 of the air. As the lights were turned on sporadically 
 over its vast surface, one imagined, if he were 
 blessed with the power of imagination, that a hun- 
 dred prehistoric men were blowing the embers 
 of their smoldering fires. Or, if his mind ran 
 farther back to the old, gloomy, gigantic days of so- 
 called heathen mythology, he saw there Prome- 
 theus indeed, chained to the rock by man's Jovian 
 intellect. And with all this impression of vast- 
 ness and power and loneliness, which the spirit of 
 man feels in the heart of the great city as strongly 
 as on a mountain top, there was blended the leaven 
 of modernity and of progress. Yonder, high" above 
 the heads of the pedestrians in State Street, th~e cars 
 of the Metropolitan "L" darted east and west 
 through a tunnel of glass, invisible, save for the
 
 A LITTLE SUPPER 3 
 
 lights with which they ran to and fro as with 
 torches. 
 
 South Water Street was a long, narrow gorge, 
 as lifeless and desolate at this hour as the bed of a 
 lost river. It seemed a squalid hallway, upon 
 whose walls of red brick the disused awnings were 
 spread like frayed and dirty cobwebs. Homing 
 carts rattled by over the cobble stones, and two or 
 three belated market wagons were backed against 
 the curb. A few broken barrels and as many piles 
 of boxes added to tHe ugliness of the vista, which 
 was not improved by an occasional Heap of refuse. 
 All this was of man's 'doing, this chaining o'f Pro- 
 metheus, this building of gorges for the rivers of 
 humanity, of which we are but drops that pass and 
 come no more forever; even the pall of smoke, en- 
 shrouding the lofty buildings until they were trans- 
 formed into the towers and battlements of some 
 great capital of Dis, was vomited forth from a 
 thousand fires that were doing th'e will of man. 
 The grimness, the weight, th'e relentless usefulness 
 of it all were of his invention. Nay, he had even 
 gone further and added a few toucKes to the sun- 
 set just now fading from the foot of SoutK Water 
 Street. As the young man had walked briskly nortK 
 on State, he Had glanced westward down Washing- 
 ton, Randolph', Lake.
 
 4 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 In each instance the sun was setting so squarely 
 at the foot of the street that the fiery red disk 
 seemed about to slide down and across the narrow 
 way and to close it like a gate. Now it lost shape 
 in a cloud of smoke, which it was pouring full of 
 lurid glory, as though it were blazing in the heart 
 of its own vapor, caused by an ineffectual attempt 
 at quenching. This spectacle, too, was plutonic, 
 and its vast and gloomy majesty harmonized well 
 with its foreground. 
 
 The very modern young man whose unseeing 
 eyes were taking in the city with no other thought 
 than the trite reflection that the Masonic Temple 
 was a "sky-scraper," and an associative wonder as 
 to whether the "Girl with the Auburn Hair" was 
 there this week or not, felt indeed a vague uplift- 
 ing as he gazed upon that celestial conflagration at 
 the foot of South' Water Street. But the emotion 
 was fleeting. Taking a handsome, open-face watch 
 from his pocket, he glanced at it, muttering, "Quar- 
 ter of six. I'm a quarter of an hour early. How 
 did that happen, I wonder?" For five minutes he 
 tramped a sKort beat on the sloppy walk, stamping 
 to keep his feet warm. But his coat, though fash- 
 ionable, was not very thick, and his brown fedora 
 offered no protection to his ears; for it was the 
 twenty-seventh day of February, and the walk was
 
 A LITTLE SUPPER 5 
 
 fringed with a mound of dirty snow. Aj he 
 walked, he hummed softly the air of "Get Your 
 Money's Worth." 
 
 Toward the north, the most conspicuous object 
 was an enormous, upright box, towering blackly 
 against a sky that now caught a faint flush of dark 
 red from the east. This was a grain elevator ; and 
 he wondered, in his subconscious efforts to pass 
 the time, whether or not it was higher than the 
 Masonic Temple. After making about twenty 
 turns, occupying, as it seemed to him, the space of 
 an hour, he again took out his watch, and discov- 
 ered that only five minutes had passed away. Thus 
 does time crawl when one is waiting. TKe feeling 
 that he was getting chilly, perhaps catching cold, 
 was gradually asserting itself. It became a con- 
 viction when his eyes chanced to light upon the 
 sign of a steamboat company advertising cheap ex- 
 cursions to summer resorts, to Macatawa Park and 
 Ottawa Beach. A saloon on the opposite corner, 
 whose windows were gaudy with circles and other 
 figures in colored glass, attracted his attention. 
 
 "I'll take a hot scotch while I'm waiting," he 
 soliloquized. Crossing the street, he ordered the 
 drink. The place was deliciously warm, and a 
 negro in a white jacket was just lifting a brightly- 
 polished brass cover from a pot that contained some-
 
 6 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 thing that smoked and emitted an appetizing smell. 
 Two or three nondescripts were standing about the 
 place, and a stout woman with red cheeks, a big 
 nose and bold eyes, looked out at him from a little 
 room where she was sitting at a table. She wore 
 a seal coat and a large hat trimmed with red flowers. 
 The young man glanced at her with the good-na- 
 tured yet not encouraging look of the experienced 
 person who is so sure of his ground th'at he is not 
 afraid to be friendly. As he cooled his scotch with 
 the little spoon and sipped it slowly, he addressed 
 a remark or two to the barkeeper with so much 
 good-fellowship that pleasant relations were imme- 
 diately established. Two or three times he went to 
 the door and looked out. 
 
 "I've got a date with" a friend," he explained. 
 "I was to meet him at six o'clock at the corner of 
 State and South Water." 
 
 "Him ?" laughed the barkeeper. 
 
 "Him? Oh, ha! ha! I'm on now. Sure thing. 
 Friend of mine we're going over the bridge to- 
 gether to Ma'am Galli's to have dinner. Ever 
 been?" 
 
 "Ma'am Galli's ? Seems to me I've heard of the 
 place. It's that I-talian restaurant, ain't it?" 
 
 "Yes, that's it the only place in town to get
 
 A LITTLE SUPPER 7 
 
 spaghetti. Cook it just as they do in Italy sort of 
 a Bohemian place." 
 
 "Bohemian? I thought it was I-talian," replied 
 the barkeeper. 
 
 The young man looked out of the door again and, 
 calling, "There's my friend now so long/' went 
 into the street. 
 
 It was typical of the city's spirit that neither 
 the barkeeper nor the negro looked after him to 
 see whether or not he had been waiting for a man. 
 In a country town every person in the place would 
 have been agog with curiosity ; but here nobody 
 cared. Harry Chapin, employed in Blodgett & 
 Blodgett's real estate office, had indeed an engage- 
 ment to take dinner at Ma'am Galli's with Edward 
 Crissey, lawyer. The latter came walking briskly 
 down the street now, holding his head high and 
 throwing out his athlete's chest. 
 
 "Hello, old man," he called as he espied Chapin 
 hastening toward him; "been taking an appetizer? 
 You should have waited till we got over to the 
 madam's, where you could have got something 
 good if all you tell me about the place is true." 
 
 The men were walking north now together. 
 
 "I was taking a hot scotch," explained Chapin. 
 "I got here a quarter of an hour early and came
 
 8 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 near getting chilled through. I saw the sun set, 
 though, right at the foot of South Water Street. 
 It looked exactly like a fire. It seemed as though 
 you could have sent an engine right down to it." 
 
 They were on the bridge now, and both invol- 
 untarily glanced down the river, flowing in the 
 bed of a canon whose walls were the faces of dark 
 red buildings. The air was a bluish gray, almost 
 black. There was a red glow in the west, faint 
 but angry. 
 
 "Look's cold, doesn't it?" observed Crissey, point- 
 ing to the surface of the river, where blocks of blue- 
 gray ice were floating. The waters were the color 
 of absinthe after dilution. Sailing craft of all sizes 
 were tied to the wharf, and a steamer or two was 
 frozen fast. The masts looked like trunks of dead 
 trees in a frozen world. 
 
 "That's a great ad," observed Chapin, pointing 
 to an electric sign that blazed far off at the right 
 against the sky as though it were the wall of 
 Nebuchadnezzar's palace. Alas! there was no 
 sublimity written by the finger of God there. Every 
 night that sign blazes out as inevitably as a galaxy 
 of stars, spelling the name of a famous brand of 
 cider. 
 
 "It isn't a marker to that, though," responded the 
 lawyer, indicating a board that swayed and creaked
 
 A LITTLE SUPPER 9 
 
 over the door of a red brick saloon. The board dis- 
 played the legend, "A raw or boiled egg with every 
 drink." 
 
 "Uh, it takes my appetite away," exclaimed 
 Chapin. They were in the region of "home" res- 
 taurants, where dinner was always "now ready," 
 and of fifteen-cent eating houses. Turning down 
 a side street, they came to a gloomy-looking brick 
 house, into the door of which Chapin turned and 
 bounded up the steps with the sureness of famil- 
 iarity. 
 
 "Where you taking me, old man ?" asked Crissey. 
 "This is no restaurant." 
 
 Chapin twisted a silver knob in the middle of the 
 door, and a bell rang on the inside. 
 
 "Ma'am Galli doesn't dare put a sign out," he 
 explained. "She has more people than she can 
 feed as it is." 
 
 A thin-faced waiter with red eyes and a mustache 
 resembling a worn-out toothbrush, and wearing a 
 dirty apron, opened the door wide enough to make 
 a little crack, into which he put his nose. 
 
 "Did you telephone?" he asked. Then, as soon 
 as he recognized Chapin, he threw the door wide, 
 crying, "Oh, Mr. Chapin, come een ! This ees your 
 friend?" 
 
 "Sure thing! Where's our seats, Cfiito?"
 
 io THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 "Right here, reserved. Right where you sat the 
 last time." 
 
 While he was taking off his coat, Crissey glanced 
 about with keen, dark eyes, alert with mingled 
 curiosity and amusement. He was in the rear room 
 of what had once been large double parlors. The 
 sliding doors were now removed, making one long 
 hall of respectable size. In each room was a table 
 capable of seating thirty-five or forty people. The 
 covers were already laid, and nearly all the chairs 
 were turned about, showing that the seats were 
 reserved. Some hooks for coats, a sideboard, a 
 dilapidated lounge, and a new piano constituted the 
 entire furnishing of the restaurant, which was dimly 
 lighted, and warmed by means of two fireplaces. 
 The curtains at the windows were dingy from the 
 soft-coal smoke, but the open fires and the heaping 
 dishes of apples, bananas and oranges upon the 
 white table-cloths gave the place a cheerful look. 
 
 "Isn't this the stuff?" said Ch'apin cheerfully as 
 he returned from hanging up the coats. 
 
 "This is all right," assented Crissey, taking out 
 his watch. "But when do we begin to eat? I'm 
 as hungry as a dog now. It's half-past six." 
 
 "We don't really get to work before seven," re- 
 plied Chapin. "Have a drink?"
 
 A LITTLE SUPPER 11 
 
 "No, thanks ; I don't believe I will not if we've 
 got another half-hour to wait before feeding." 
 
 The doorbell was ringing with great frequency 
 now, and the guests were arriving rapidly, singly 
 and in little groups. Chito was omnipresent, danc- 
 ing about, appearing and disappearing as limply 
 and as jerkingly as a marionette. He opened the 
 door ; he brought in things for the table ; he helped 
 some tip-producing guest to take off his coat. 
 There was a marked effort on the part of those ar- 
 riving to be truly Bohemian. They were mostly 
 respectable business men or clerks in business 
 offices. The women were, in the majority of cases, 
 wives accompanied by their own husbands; yet 
 there was a pervading sense that herein was to be 
 found the real thing so far as Bohemia was con- 
 cerned. Many of the ladies did not know exactly 
 what Bohemia is, but they had a vague idea that 
 it is a place where people eat spaghetti, and con- 
 duct themselves in a free and easy manner. A 
 white-haired sculptor who dined regularly at the 
 place satisfied the ideals of those who believed 
 Bohemia to be a land frequented by artists, authors 
 and other such delightful and irresponsible folk. 
 Three or four mysterious characters, and two 
 Levantines who talked Italian with the sculptor,
 
 12 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 and French with any of the guests who knew a few 
 words of the language, verified by their presence 
 the rumor that all classes mingled freely at Ma'am 
 Galli's, and that French and Italian were the prin- 
 cipal tongues spoken there. 
 
 "Bravo, Chito; bravo!" cried Chapin, clapping 
 his hands. The other guests joined in the applause 
 of the waiter, who now appeared with an armful 
 of chianti bottles, containing cheap California wine, 
 which he proceeded to set on the table, one bottle 
 at each plate. 
 
 "I take it that the dinner hour is not far off now," 
 sighed Crissey. 
 
 "The soup'll come next," prophesied Chapin. 
 
 "Is there raviola?" inquired anxiously some per- 
 son who had in all probability been searching his 
 memory for the name during the past ten minutes. 
 To be able to enjoy queer dishes is also supposed 
 to be a Bohemian earmark. 
 
 "Not to-night." The owner of the voice simu- 
 lated despair. 
 
 "Tourtas?" asked another guest. 
 
 "Si, signor." 
 
 "Good! Good!" shouted half a dozen enthusi- 
 astically. 
 
 "You see what sort of a place it is," whispered 
 Chapin triumphantly. "Isn't this Bohemian,
 
 A LITTLE SUPPER 13 
 
 though ? And just wait till you taste the spaghetti ! 
 Hello, there's Hutchins. He's the best ever, and 
 so's his wife." 
 
 Frank Hutchins and Fred Bird, espying Chapin, 
 called out, "Ah there, Harry !" and came over to the 
 fireplace. Hutchins was a large man, with the face 
 of a middle-aged Apollo and the stomach of a vali- 
 ant trencherman of sedentary habits. He had ac- 
 quired the stomach at an athletic club famous for 
 its mixed drinks and its course dinners. Bird was 
 also a corpulent gentleman, whose bald and shining 
 forehead added to his general rotund effect. Both 
 were noted good fellows and good livers, so beam- 
 ing with friendliness that no one ever gave a thought 
 to their intellectual gifts, which were in reality not 
 inconsiderable. Hutchins, especially, was a rare 
 judge of bourbon, and had never been known to 
 say an unkind word about anybody. Chapin in- 
 troduced Crissey, and Bird and Hutchins each pro- 
 posed an appetizer. Crissey assented, mentally re- 
 flecting that dinner must surely be nearly ready by 
 this time. 
 
 "Ma'am Galli has some very decent Maryland 
 reserve," explained Hutchins, pointing to the con- 
 verted bookcase in the corner. Crissey observed 
 that there was a formidable array of foreign-looking 
 bottles behind the glass door chianti and ver-
 
 i 4 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 mouth flasks, stone jugs, and fat liqueur bottles 
 but that the object which Chito most frequently 
 brought forth was a familiar-looking receptacle 
 containing plain American whisky. 
 
 "Here come the girls," said Hutchins, as the 
 wives appeared, accompanied by a young woman 
 of striking beauty. Mrs. Bird was in full evening 
 dress. It was said that she was insanely devoted 
 to her husband, and that he was as proud of her 
 shoulders as though they had been hewn out of 
 Carrara by Story and had cost ten thousand dol- 
 lars. Her hair was light and fluffy, and a diamond 
 star glittered in its meshes. Mrs. Hutchins was 
 slender and willowy. She wore a green street 
 dress and a green hat ornamented with fur. She 
 was vivacious by both nature and art. 
 
 "Come girls, get into the game here, get into the 
 game!" cried Hutchins, as Chito brought the 
 whisky bottle and set it down on the table before 
 the party. Chapin was introduced to Miss Aikin, 
 and Crissey was presented to Miss Aikin and to 
 Mrs. Bird. Otherwise, all were acquainted. Mrs. 
 Hutchins ordered ginger ale. Mrs. Bird and Miss 
 Aikin both declined anything intoxicating, pro- 
 fessedly because they were in a public place, really 
 for fear of making their noses red. 
 
 Chito came in holding at arm's length" a bowl of
 
 A LITTLE SUPPER 15 
 
 steaming soup. He received a general ovation. 
 The Hutchins party took their places at the table, 
 and it was regarded a great piece of good fortune 
 that these were contiguous to those of Chapin and 
 Crissey. Mrs. Hutchins moved everybody round so 
 that Miss Aikin and Chapin sat together at her left 
 hand. 
 
 "You two are the only unmarried ones here," 
 she explained. "You can sit together, but I am 
 going to keep you right here under my wing." 
 
 "Be careful or she'll have you married before you 
 get out of the place," shouted Bird, looking down 
 the line. "She's a notorious match-maker." 
 
 Chapin glanced at his companion with marked 
 admiration. "She won't have to work overtime on 
 me," he replied gallantly. 
 
 "See Nellie blush," giggled Mrs. Bird. 
 
 The girl would have been a bold character if the 
 color had not mounted to her face, for she became 
 aware that the eyes of the dozen or fifteen strangers 
 seated opposite were fixed upon her in furtive ad- 
 miration. She was indeed a woman of striking 
 and unusual beauty. No longer in her first youth, 
 she verified the fact, well known among connois- 
 seurs, that a woman reaches the acme of loveliness 
 when her charms are mature. She wore a dress of 
 golden brown, a color that she affected as harmon-
 
 16 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 izing with her red-gold hair, which was her crown- 
 ing physical adornment. This was very long, and 
 she wound it about on top of her head in braids in 
 a coronet effect. Her face and features were rather 
 small, but her h'air prevented them from looking 
 insignificant. Her complexion was warm, and 
 there were a few tiny freckles on her nose and 
 cheeks. She had hazel eyes, with a reddish gleam 
 in them, and yellow-brown eyelashes. An explo- 
 sive laugh, which never betrayed her into opening 
 her mouth very wide, not even when, as now, it was 
 provoked partly by nervousness, exhibited to the 
 world a marvelous set of teeth white, not too 
 large, and evenly placed. Her nose and lips were 
 a trifle fleshy, suggesting not so much a sensual 
 streak, as probable plumpness in her graceful, tailor- 
 made figure. 
 
 "Cheese in your soup?" asked Chapin, attentively 
 dipping a spoon into a saucer of grated parmesan 
 and holding it toward Nellie's plate. She hesitated 
 a moment, but Harry assured her that it was the 
 "proper caper" ; and she murmured, "A little, thank 
 you," convinced that cheese in soup was Bohemian, 
 though from any other point of view she would have 
 refused it as an outlandish mess. 
 
 "How disgustingly these foreigners eat soup!" 
 whispered Mrs. Bird to Crissey, as a high, thin,
 
 A LITTLE SUPPER 17 
 
 sipping sound was heard in various portions of the 
 room. . 
 
 "That's nothing," volunteered Chapin, who had 
 heard the remark. "Wait till they begin on spa- 
 ghetti !" 
 
 "Oh, dear, I don't know what I shall do about 
 the spaghetti!" exclaimed Mrs. Bird. "I can't eat 
 it in the regular foreign way. It slips out of my 
 mouth as fast as I put it in." 
 
 "Remember what I told you about cutting it up," 
 said her husband ; "these people here will think you 
 have never been out of town if you cut up your 
 spaghetti." 
 
 The table in the front parlor had been taken en- 
 tirely by some social club from Evanston. The 
 party included two or three young girls who, in 
 the words of Chapin, were having the "time of 
 their lives." A good young man, of the exemplary 
 type so common in that suburb, was smoking a ciga- 
 rette between the soup and the next course, with the 
 air of a genuine cosmopolitan. One of the girls 
 was gazing at him with undisguised wonder and 
 an expression that said plainer than words, "I 
 hate a goody-goody man !" 
 
 Crissey, who had not found anything to say yet, 
 was catching scraps of conversation from the babble 
 that was going on at his own table. The white-
 
 1 8 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 haired sculptor was talking about the grand opera 
 with an excitable dark woman at his left, assuring 
 her in French, with many gestures, that something 
 or other was "man's music." A little Jew, witK 
 red eyes and a projecting under lip so drawn down 
 at the corners that it pulled the skin tight over his 
 cheek bones, was attempting to draw Frank Hutch- 
 ins into conversation across the table on the subject 
 of socialism, which he introduced apropos of noth- 
 ing. For the rest, they all seemed to be talking 
 of various ways to cook spaghetti and of different 
 places in Europe where they had eaten it. Those 
 who were not talking were looking at Mrs. Bird, 
 whose decollete costume was due to the fact that 
 she was giving a box party at the theater. Many 
 of the men present had hitherto gained their only 
 idea of woman in full dress from the variety stage, 
 and the wax figures in the show windows of the 
 department stores. When the spaghetti arrived, 
 Hutchins, Bird and Chapin helped themselves 
 to twice as much as they wanted, and actually 
 ate the enormous heaps upon their plates with the 
 zest of those who have acquired the truly Bohemian 
 appetite. Crissey, who was a stanch American, cut 
 up his portions into little bits, a precedent which 
 was followed by Mrs. Bird and Mrs. Hutchins. 
 Chapin gave Nellie instructions in spaghetti-eating.
 
 A LITTLE SUPPER 19 
 
 "I can't suck it up like that," she giggled. 
 "Everybody is looking at me." 
 
 "Nonsense," replied Harry. "In a Bohemian 
 place like this, nobody minds what you do." 
 
 "But it makes a woman so ugly to pucker up her 
 mouth like that. Just look at the woman down at 
 the end of the table." 
 
 "That's different again," replied Harry. "You 
 can't judge by her. She didn't start even with! 
 you." 
 
 "She took twice as much as I did." 
 
 "Oh, I didn't mean on spaghetti; I meant on 
 looks." 
 
 "How are you getting on down there?" cried 
 Hutchins cheerfully, glancing down the line. 
 "Break away! Break away!" 
 
 "Don't bother 'em," whispered his wife ; "they're 
 so interested in each other !" 
 
 "You stick your fork in it like this," explained 
 Chapin, "and whirl it round and round until you 
 have a little ball, which you put into your mouth 
 like this." 
 
 "Of course," he continued a minute or two later, 
 "if there's a string or two that don't twist up, you 
 can bite it off." 
 
 "What a romantic-looking man your friend is," 
 murmured Nellie, glancing up from her plate after
 
 20 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 having performed quite successfully the difficult 
 gastronomic feat. "Such heavy white hair makes 
 a young man look so romantic. Has Mr. Crissey 
 ever had any great trouble?" 
 
 "Crissey romantic !" exclaimed Harry. "Listen." 
 The lawyer was talking to a man who had called out 
 to him from the other side of the table : "I see by 
 the morning papers that the committee want you 
 to run for alderman against Badenough " 
 
 "They do me the honor of saying that I am the 
 only man in my ward who can defeat Badenough, 
 but they want me to contribute two thousand dol- 
 lars to the campaign fund. This I refuse to do. 
 If they really believe that I am the only available 
 man, then I should Have the support of the machine 
 without being called upon to put up. I am willing 
 to do my part toward overthrowing the corrupt ring 
 which is now in power, but I have not sufficient 
 means to risk two thousand dollars on a political 
 gamble. I am not so ready to put up money for a 
 public office as are some of those already in power. 
 Lacking their experience, I can not see wherein 
 the position of alderman should be one of such 
 pecuniary value." 
 
 There was a faint ripple of applause from all 
 pans of the room. Crissey, wKo was regarded as a
 
 A LITTLE SUPPER 21 
 
 jury lawyer of great promise, had a way of saying 
 commonplaces in a convincing and stately manner. 
 He was a self-centered man, with an evident pur- 
 pose in life. The little Jew immediately addressed 
 him on the subject of socialism. 
 
 "Is he married?" asked Nellie. 
 
 "Sure," replied Harry, in a tone of evident ex- 
 ultation, "and has a whole houseful of children 
 regular private kindergarten. That's why you 
 never see his wife with him, I suppose. She has to 
 stay at home and take care of the kids." 
 
 This remark sounded a little disloyal to Harry 
 himself, but somehow he was nettled by the interest 
 which this stunning girl was taking in his friend. 
 Not that he could blame her particularly, after all, 
 for Edward Crissey was one of the men whom 
 women look at. His hair was snowy white, as Nel- 
 lie had observed, but its glossy abundance and the 
 clear red of his cheeks gave him a youthful expres- 
 sion. His face was clean-shaven, and distinctly 
 forceful and intellectual. Nellie's furtive but pho- 
 tographic glance had taken in a large mouth, thin 
 lips, dark eyes and eyelashes, a prominent Roman 
 nose, a pair of square, strong shoulders on the 
 whole, the face and figure of a man who was in the" 
 world to win his way and to command respect.
 
 22 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 "She's one of the unknown wives of unknown 
 husbands," murmured Nellie, her mind still dwell- 
 ing on Harry's last bit of information. 
 
 The latter laughed immoderately, repeating the 
 expression. 
 
 "That's good," he said; and then, anxious to 
 make amends for his slight disloyalty, "but he won't 
 be unknown long. Edward Crissey is a coming 
 man. He's a man of destiny. Nothing can stop 
 him. He and I went to school together when we 
 were boys. He started out from a little boy to be a 
 great man used to say that he would be president 
 of the United States some day." 
 
 "He looks eloquent," observed Nellie. 
 
 "He is. He can say, 'It's a pleasant day,' in such 
 a way that you'll feel as if it was pleasant just to 
 oblige you, you know but that's good 'unknown 
 wives of unknown men !' " The tame remark 
 seemed the very essence of wit to Harry. 
 
 The Birds and the Hutchinses left early, taking 
 Nellie with them. Harry helped the girl into her 
 coat, one of the long, loose, nightgown-like gar- 
 ments so fashionable at the time, and handed her 
 her hat, golden brown and trimmed with a brown 
 pheasant's wing flecked with yellow spots. 
 
 "We're going to see Blanche Bates," called out 
 Bird. "I'd ask you to come along, but my carriage
 
 A LITTLE SUPPER 23 
 
 won't hold another. Nellie will have to sit on my 
 lap, as it is." 
 
 "No, on mine," said Hutchins. "I've got first 
 call!" 
 
 "We've had a delightful time !" said Mrs. Bird. 
 
 "So Bohemian !" added Nellie. 
 
 "You must all come to my house next Friday 
 night," put in Mrs. Hutchins. "We'll have some 
 music, and a Dutch lunch at midnight." 
 
 "That'll be Bohemian, too!" cried Harry; and, 
 pulling Mrs. Hutchins by the arm, he whispered, 
 " Will Miss Aikin be there?" 
 
 "Yes, if you'll promise to come; and you can 
 go out in the kitchen together and make potato 
 salad." And then aloud, "I appoint Miss Aikin 
 and Mr. Chapin a committee of two to make the 
 potato salad." 
 
 "Hear ! Hear !" cried Hutchins. 
 
 "Will you come, Mr. Crissey, and bring Mrs. 
 Crissey?" asked the prospective hostess. 
 
 "I should be delighted to accept of your charm- 
 ing hospitality," replied Crissey, "but I am so busy 
 now with political matters and an important suit 
 that I have not an evening to myself. And just 
 now Mrs. Crissey has two sick children on her 
 hands nothing serious, nothing serious earache 
 for the three-year-old and teeth in the case of the.
 
 24 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 baby, so that the poor woman is little less than a 
 prisoner. I'm away from home to-night simply be- 
 cause I did not want to trouble her to have dinner 
 ready, and I have a committee to see in half an hour 
 now." 
 
 "She's as witty as she is beautiful," declared 
 Chapin, handing Crissey an imported Panatela, after 
 the others had gone. "Such a woman as that is 
 enough to drive a man to matrimony." 
 
 "I should hardly have been able to get on without 
 my wife," mused Crissey, blowing a long, thin 
 feather of smoke toward the ceiling. 
 
 The people from Evanston left early, shortly after 
 Crissey's departure, the good young man from the 
 suburbs remarking that he hated to throw away his 
 cigarette, and the sweet girl murmuring, "I've had 
 a perfectly lovely time the place is so Bohemian." 
 
 Then the regular habitues began the evening's 
 fun. The queer-shaped, foreign-looking bottles in 
 the converted bookcase were brought out, and 
 strange drinks were concocted. The excitable, dark 
 woman gave a recitation, taking advantage of the 
 rhetorical pauses to puff vigorously at her cigarette. 
 Some of the guests ran out into the kitchen to hob- 
 nob with Ma'am Galli and to cajole extra cups of 
 coffee out of her. The whole company sang "We'll 
 Hang Willie Smith to a Sour Apple Tree," and
 
 A LITTLE SUPPER 25 
 
 bombarded that gentleman, who was the editor of 
 a hydrophobia and moribund weekly, with bread 
 balls. A tall girl, with big, yearning eyes and the 
 face of the Sistine Madonna, went over to the piano 
 and sang a parody on "Ah Want My Black Baby 
 Back," in which the word "baby" was put in the 
 possessive case and there was a reference to cold 
 feet. Harry and several other of the men gath- 
 ered around her and demanded a whole repertoire 
 of "coon" songs. One of the Levantines shut the 
 doors between the two parlors, and a game of poker 
 was soon in full swing. But Harry left while the 
 evening was still promising. The girl at the piano 
 had lost her Bohemian charm for him ; her voice 
 sounded raucous, and her wit had become stale. 
 Bidding the jolly, thoughtless company good night, 
 he went down into the squalid street. There was 
 the chill, acrid smell in the air of the first hour after 
 midnight, and a few nervous and anemic stars 
 were glittering in the sky far above the housetops.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 IMPARTIAL ADVICE 
 
 The evening at the Hutchins' flat on the South 
 Side was a very pleasant occasion for Harry, and 
 served to make more insistent and agreeable than 
 ever the image of the girl with the red-gold hair and 
 the yellow-brown eyelashes. He mixed the potato 
 salad with her, and that incorrigible match-maker, 
 Mrs. Hutchins, took care that they should have 
 the kitchen to themselves for a good half hour. 
 There was much chatter about the amount of olive 
 oil and vinegar, and a playful struggle for a big 
 wooden spoon. Once, when they were standing 
 close together looking into a bowl, Nellie's red-gold 
 hair brushed Harry's cheek and gave him a thrill 
 which recurred afterward as often as he thought of 
 the circumstance. He waked up in the middle of 
 the night several times to think of Nellie, and he was 
 thinking of her now as he stood in the door of his 
 lodgings on Evanston Avenue on the North Side. 
 
 It was a frame cottage with a large garden in 
 26
 
 IMPARTIAL ADVICE 27 
 
 the rear, and Harry was the only lodger, occupying 
 a large front room upstairs and an alcove bedroom. 
 His landlady was a cheerful German woman with 
 one daughter, a grass-widow who gave music les- 
 sons, and taught German in a private school. 
 Harry was most comfortable there. In winter the 
 fire was lighted in his stove every morning at six. 
 The house was old-fashioned, and the room was 
 thoroughly warmed before lie arose. He had a well- 
 stocked sideboard, and gave an occasional card party 
 to his men friends, on which occasions there was no 
 lack of conviviality. Though he was only a mod- 
 erate smoker, there was a great sHow of smoking 
 paraphernalia in his room ; pipes everywhere, cigars 
 ostentatiously displayed in a glass box with a silver 
 top, and an idiotic little table with three legs and 
 a number of set receptacles one of those gift ar- 
 ticles which are of no earthly use, but which haunt 
 the unhappy recipient till his death. Harry often 
 had his coffee in bed; and good coffee it was, too, 
 for the old lady made it herself. If he arose suffi- 
 ciently early, he ate his breakfast with the buxom 
 music teacher. His lunch and dinner were always 
 eaten down town, at one or another of several re- 
 sorts where there was plenty of good cheer and hale 
 fellowship. 
 Harry himself was not a youth of extraordinary,
 
 28 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 endowments, either physical or mental. He was 
 tall, slender, and thin-chested ; his mother had used 
 to call him "chicken-breasted." His face was thin, 
 dark and sallow; and he wore large eyeglasses, to 
 counteract a weakness induced by working by elec- 
 tric light and sitting up late o' nights in a cloud of 
 tobacco smoke. His forehead was somewhat nar- 
 row and high, an effect which was augmented by 
 a slight promise of baldness in front. His hair and 
 eyes were black, and he had a vivacious way, as 
 though he were always about to tell a joke or say 
 something bright thus arousing a hope which 
 never quite materialized. Yet he had a slangy, up- 
 to-date way of saying things which often brought 
 applause, and he was so manifestly gregarious 
 and light-hearted that he was greeted as a boon 
 companion whenever he appeared in any company. 
 Perhaps, had he really possessed a trenchant wit or 
 unusual force of character, he would have had fewer 
 friends. His popularity was due partly to the fact 
 that the rank and file of his acquaintance felt him 
 to be one of themselves. 
 
 "It's going to be pleasant after all," he muttered, 
 as a sickly ray of sun struggled through the vast 
 billows of clouds, black and smoky-white, with 
 which the March sky was piled. "I guess spring 
 has sprung." And a faint image of his mother took
 
 IMPARTIAL ADVICE 29 
 
 form in his brain and faded out again, for this had 
 been a favorite expression of hers. 
 
 There had been several days of summer warmth 
 and a drizzling rain, which had caused the snow to 
 vanish from the streets, leaving only surly spots 
 of ice here and there by the walk. But during the 
 night it had snowed again, and the earth was 
 marked with mangy patches of white and brown. 
 The branches of an oak tree opposite the house were 
 bare, save for a cluster of dead yellow leaves that 
 had hung on all winter, and silver tears of dew 
 were dripping from the brown twigs. A bird 
 somewhere in the distance called out a little flurry 
 of clear notes, and the sun flashed brightly through 
 an opening of clouds. 
 
 Harry stepped briskly down the street, whistling 
 "I Guess I'll Have to Telegraph My Baby." At 
 the "limits" barns he met Gehrke, his landlady's gro- 
 cer, a prosperous, well-fed, amiable bachelor of Ger- 
 man descent. Harry and Gehrke belonged to the 
 same suburban bowling club. 
 
 "Good morning, Harry," cried the latter; "are 
 you going to ride on the grip ?" 
 
 "Sure; you couldn't get me inside on a day like 
 this." 
 
 "Well, I guess the backbone of winter is broke," 
 observed Mr. Gehrke, sniffing the keen air that yet
 
 3 o THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 had a balmy smell. "Smoke up? I buy these by 
 the box. They're a mild, sweet smoke." 
 
 "Thanks," said Harry, accepting with consider- 
 able secret trepidation but much outward eagerness 
 the thick yellow weed. 
 
 "Oh, we'll have skating clean out to the crib yet," 
 he ventured, lighting the cigar. 
 
 The two men lapsed into silence for a while. 
 Talking is difficult on the lumbering, antiquated 
 cars which the North-siders dignify by the name of 
 transportation. 
 
 As Harry puffed away at the cigar, which, being 
 absolutely without character, was not so aggres- 
 sively offensive as he had feared, he noted his prog- 
 ress by means of certain signs which had attracted 
 his attention every morning for years, and which 
 served as milestones on his way to his office, in- 
 variably arousing the same train of thought in his 
 mind subconsciously when he chanced to be' en- 
 gaged in conversation. 
 
 "Scroggs' Million Dollar Rheumatic Cure" made 
 him think of a pretty girl whom he had once met 
 at a summer resort on the St. Joe, and who told 
 him that her mother had gone to town for some of 
 this same cure. The "Dew Drop Inn" called to his 
 mind a friend in the shoe business who once started
 
 IMPARTIAL ADVICE 31 
 
 out to cure a cold by drinking Medford rum and 
 molasses, and who was not seen again for a week. 
 The last heard of him was in the "Dew Drop Inn." 
 The name of "Sees's" in written characters across 
 a large plate-glass window aroused the reflection 
 that milliners with such foreign-sounding names 
 were doubtless more expensive than others. A 
 familiar-looking hat in the window sent the blood 
 back to his heart and made him feel again the 
 touch of red-gold hair against his cheek. 
 
 "What became of that girl you were making up 
 to, Gehrke?" he shouted to his companion. "Did 
 she give you the icy mit?" 
 
 Gehrke began talking volubly, as a man does 
 who is approached on a subject that lies much in 
 his thoughts. 
 
 "It was like this," Ke said. "If I go to work and 
 make up to a girl, my mother and brothers throw it 
 in to me till I am ashamed to go into the house. 
 They guy the life out of me. You see, my mother 
 don't want me to get married and go off and live 
 by myself. She always commences the racket, and 
 the boys follow suit. I can't stand that to have 
 anybody throw it in to me. She was a peach, all 
 right, that girl was," he sighed reflectively. 
 
 How much depends upon the form of expression !
 
 32 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 That sigh and that homely phrase, translated into 
 other language, might have conveyed the idea of a 
 heart tragedy, 
 
 "Why don't you marry her yet?" asked Harry, 
 still thinking of the red-gold hair. "Don't you in- 
 tend to get married some day?" 
 
 "You bet I do," cried Gehrke, shouting hoarsely 
 in his companion's ear and talking as rapidly as 
 possible when the car stopped at the corners. 
 
 "You see, it's like this: If I want to sleep late 
 in the mornings, mother comes in and wakes me and 
 says, 'Get up, Theo, the girl wants to make up the 
 room.' Then on Sunday morning, if I lay in bed 
 late, what do my father and brothers do ? They go 
 to work and use up all the hot water to take a bath' 
 with. And if I get tired of this and go to work and 
 make up to a girl, then my whole family go to work 
 and throw it in to me." 
 
 When Mr. Gehrke became excited, he repeated 
 with remarkable frequency the expression "go to 
 work," as well as the main statements of his dis- 
 course. 
 
 The smell of tobacco from a factory in the vicin- 
 ity of Division Street reminded Harry that he was 
 half-way down town, and he looked at his watch to 
 see if he was going to be late at his office. 
 
 "How much of an income does a man need to get
 
 IMPARTIAL ADVICE 33 
 
 married on?" he asked his companion. His own 
 salary was thirty dollars a week. 
 
 "You see, it's like this," replied Gehrke. "If a 
 man goes to work and marries a girl that's no good 
 that wants to live on pie and fried steak and wear 
 electric seal sacques, and go to the matinee every 
 week, but don't know how to boil water then he's 
 getting the little end, unless he's rich. But if he 
 goes to work and marries a good, sensible girl, 
 who'll be a help to him, then he can live cheaper and 
 better married than single." 
 
 "I guess that's no lie either," said Harry, uncon- 
 sciously adapting his style to his companion's men- 
 tal caliber. 
 
 "Now there's my clerk, Tom," continued Gehrke. 
 "He's a boy of education been through the high 
 school. It's different with him from what it is with 
 me. I could afford to keep a hired girl, though 
 if the girl should go to work and leave, I'd want my 
 fried steak just the same when I came home at 
 night, and my wife 'ud have to go to work and get 
 it. But Tom he don't want to marry a hired girl, 
 and none of the girls that he knows are willing to 
 begin at the bottom with him and help work up. 
 Their fathers are well off, and all they have to do is 
 to set around and play the piano and let their moth- 
 ers or the hired girls wash the dishes."
 
 34 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 This conversation, on the whole, was not very sat- 
 isfying to Harry. He found time to revert to it 
 occasionally during the morning's work in the of- 
 fice, and the only conclusion to which he could ar- 
 rive was that Gehrke was in favor of matrimony 
 for himself, but that he advised a young man on a 
 salary to be very careful in the selection of a mate. 
 
 "Of course, if a man had an independent business 
 like Gehrke," he reflected, "he could just keep a 
 wife as a sort of luxury, like. It's all a lottery," 
 he sighed, taking refuge in one of those proverbs 
 which do automatic thinking for uncreative men. 
 
 At noon he hurried into his coat and hat and went 
 over to Crissey's office in the Unity Building. He 
 found him just locking his door preparatory to 
 going out. They lunched together in an under- 
 ground restaurant of good repute for its roast beef 
 and beer. 
 
 "Been to Ma'am Galli's since?" asked Chapin, 
 over the cigars. 
 
 "No," replied Crissey. "I don't often take my 
 supper down town, you know." 
 
 "Didn't you think Mrs. Bird was a stunner?" 
 asked Chapin after a little. 
 
 "She is certainly a very beautiful woman," re- 
 plied Crissey, "and knows how to make the most 
 of her charms."
 
 IMPARTIAL ADVICE 35 
 
 "She's not a marker to Miss Aikin, though," 
 blurted out Chapin awkwardly. "You made a ter- 
 rible mash there, old man, with your blamed white 
 hair and red cheeks." 
 
 "Nonsense," replied Crissey. "You were the one, 
 with your spaghetti lessons. When a fellow gets 
 far enough along to give a girl lessons in eating 
 spaghetti, there's no chance for anybody else. And, 
 anyhow, I'm not in the market." 
 
 "I wouldn't be in it for a minute if you were," 
 sighed Chapin. "I'd be an also ran. I say, old 
 man, how much does a chap really need to get mar- 
 ried on ? To get along all right, you know ?" 
 
 Crissey took the question most seriously. He had 
 a sympathetic turn which, in after years, was ac- 
 counted the main secret of his success. 
 
 "So!" he exclaimed. "It has gone that far?" 
 
 "I haven't said a word to her," replied Chapin. 
 "I don't suppose she'd look at me. Some million- 
 aire would be about right for her. But if I should 
 hit it off with her, could a man and woman live on 
 thirty dollars a week? I'd ask her in a minute," 
 he cried excitedly, "if I thought I had enough 
 money to keep her right. Such a woman as that 
 ought to be dressed in silk every day. She ought to 
 walk around on Turkish rugs and have nothing to 
 do but read Ouida."
 
 36 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 "If she's the right kind of woman, though, she'll 
 want to do her share. As for the amount of salary 
 necessary for making matrimony a success, I should 
 say that thirty dollars is ample to begin with. Why, 
 my own income sometimes doesn't amount to so 
 much even now," lowering his voice, "y et my wife 
 manages to make it come out even, always, and I 
 am never harassed with bills. We have children, 
 too. But my wife is a wonderful woman. I hard- 
 ly know how I should get along without her, or 
 how, in fact, I could get along with any other 
 woman. Some women are extravagant, some are 
 inefficient, some are sick all the time, and the ma- 
 jority are always jealous bothering the life out of 
 a man with questions if he is not home at a certain 
 hour, and poking into his business affairs to see if 
 they can not get on the track of some other woman. 
 My wife runs her end of the machine, and I run 
 mine; and she's always cheerful, brave, equal to 
 anything. You wouldn't think there could be so 
 much strength and courage in such a little thing. 
 I never would have believed it myself if I had not 
 experienced it. Sometimes when I come home 
 tired, she greets me with a restful smile, and I sus- 
 pect that she's really more tired than I am. As for 
 thirty dollars, that's princely for a start. We didn't
 
 IMPARTIAL ADVICE 37 
 
 have over ten on the average Dolly and I didn't 
 when we got married. I never knew how much 
 you could get out of ten dollars a week until I got 
 married. You can get hope witK it, old man, and 
 a kingdom where you are king, with a queen for 
 consort and peace and counsel and strength'." 
 
 Chapin was leaning forward with his elbows on 
 the table, looking at the speaker with burning eyes. 
 
 "Then you believe in marriage," he said, hoarse- 
 ly. "You advise me, as a friend, to go into it 
 that is, if she will ?" 
 
 "Believe in it ? I believe it's a man's only chance 
 for happiness on earth'. Of course, my wife is an 
 exceptional woman, but then " 
 
 "There are others," interrupted CKapin, loyally. 
 "Miss Aikin is an angel ; anybody could see that by 
 just looking at her. Didn't you notice that, Ed?" 
 
 "Why, the fact is, I didn't observe her very care- 
 fully. I did notice that she was a very sweet and 
 attractive girl," he hastened to add, an impatient 
 move on Harry's part indicating that the latter was 
 offended. "You see, the truth is that I have no 
 eyes for the women at all. I've settled the woman 
 question, so far as I am concerned." 
 
 "Miss Aikin is a woman of intellect, too," con- 
 tinued Harry. "Reads Browning and Omar Khay-
 
 38 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 yam. Such a woman would be a companion to a 
 man. Don't you think such a woman would be a 
 companion to a man?" 
 
 "Certainly, my boy, certainly," replied Crissey, 
 with conviction. "The best kind of a companion 
 the sweetest, truest, best sort of a chum imaginable." 
 
 "I'll do it!" cried Harry, "if she will. Maybe 
 she won't look at me, but I'll put up a front. A 
 man never knows what he can do until he puts up 
 front enough". I'll begin a campaign by the way, 
 how's your campaign for alderman coming along?" 
 
 "Oh, that's all off for the present," laughed Cris- 
 sey. "I refused to contribute a thousand dollars 
 and to make a canvass of th'e saloons. You see, 
 there are a number of all-night saloons in my ward 
 tough joints and it would be necessary for me 
 to make them all sorts of promises. I couldn't af- 
 ford to do that," he said, with a far-away look in 
 his eyes, as of a man gazing into the future and 
 seeing something, "for I have to make a clean rec- 
 ord." 
 
 "Well, good luck to you, old man," said Crissey 
 earnestly, as tKey shook hands on the sidewalk at 
 the top of tKe stairs. Then each went his own way 
 through the sunless street, pigmies at the foot of 
 the tremendous, grimy buildings, atoms in the 
 throngs of hurrying thousands that dodged and
 
 IMPARTIAL ADVICE 39 
 
 darted along in either direction, with eager, care- 
 drawn, joyless faces. Harry with the old primeval 
 yearning in his heart and the thrill of a fluff of red- 
 gold hair in his veins ; Crissey with his confident 
 tread and his dark eyes looking into the future.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 BEHIND THE SCENES 
 
 "You're a chump, Nell," said Carrie Vinne, Miss 
 Aikin's roommate. "Mr. Crawford is a perfect 
 gentleman, and so is his friend." 
 
 "What's his friend's name?" asked Nellie. 
 
 "I don't know I can't remember sort of a Ger- 
 man-sounding name Bloom, I think. He's in the 
 brewery business. He's the loveliest young fellow, 
 with the sweetest blond mustache and such a kill- 
 ing way. He wears such swell clothes, too." 
 
 "He wants to go with you, doesn't he?" asked 
 Nellie, interested in spite of herself. 
 
 "No! He wouldn't have to ask me twice. Old 
 Crawford wants me. Why, there's no harm in it, 
 Nell, with him along. He's old enough to be the 
 father to either of us. I always call him 'papa.' 
 He's as gray as a rat and looks as pious as a Presby- 
 terian deacon. OK, come on, Nell." 
 
 Nellie sighed. "No," she replied with determina- 
 tion. "It might be pleasant, but there's nothing in 
 40
 
 BEHIND THE SCENES 41 
 
 that sort of thing for me. I was brought up too 
 strict, in the first place. Besides, there's nothing in 
 it. My only hope to get out of drudgery is to get 
 married. I'm sick of standing all day in the store 
 and of living cramped up in a little room. I can't 
 afford to do anything that will hurt my reputation. 
 Is Crawford a single man?" 
 
 "No ; but his wife is awful mean to him. He 
 doesn't love her at all. He isn't happy at home. I 
 feel real sorry for him." 
 
 "Is this other fellow the one with the blond 
 mustache is he married?" 
 
 "I don't know," replied Carrie, with some impa- 
 tience. "But what difference does it make? 
 You're too particular. We're just going out for a 
 little pleasure, and you'll break up the party by not 
 going. Mr. Crawford says his friend is terribly 
 fascinated with you, and it was to bring you two 
 together that he got up the party." 
 
 The girls were talking of a projected automobile 
 trip to a wayside inn, noted for the accommodating 
 nature of its host. Mr. Crawford, the gray-haired 
 gentleman whose saintly appearance should have 
 been sufficient guaranty for the respectability of 
 any sort of excursion, was interested in automobiles 
 and was fast amassing a fortune. His young friend, 
 whose name was in fact Bloom, was connected by
 
 42 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 marriage with a brewery. He had taken to wife 
 the eldest daughter of the secretary of the company, 
 an unprepossessing lady whose devotion had become 
 tiresome to him. 
 
 Miss Aikin was an ambitious young lady in poor 
 circumstances. Her room, wherein the conversation 
 above recorded took place, was a back bedroom on 
 Erie Street. Its one window looked out upon a 
 mansard roof, beyond which was a dirty alley. Upon 
 the roof were generally to be seen a few scraps of 
 paper, a banana peel or two, perhaps a toothless 
 comb, a few floating ribs from a corset, or an empty 
 beer bottle. If she opened the door or the transom, 
 her nostrils were invaded by a smell of past genera- 
 tions of lodgers and of surreptitious meals in bed- 
 rooms ; this odor mingled with years of family cook- 
 ing in the nether regions, of cabbage, parsnips, Ger- 
 man sours and boiled turnips. But who can describe 
 the peculiar odor that pertains to the hall of a 
 lodging house? Composed of a thousand different 
 perfumes, and mingled in varying proportions, the 
 result, after a sufficient lapse of time, is always iden- 
 tical, and can never be mistaken by one who has 
 once smelled it. This odor is, in fact, a sort of com- 
 posite record of the industries which have been car- 
 ried on within. A rear view of Miss Aikin's lodg-
 
 BEHIND THE SCENES 43 
 
 ing House revealed a half-filled milk bottle standing 
 here and there on a window sill, an occasional tum- 
 bler covered with a tea-saucer, and, in one instance, 
 a long pair of black stockings, hung for drying 
 in the wind by the simple process of shutting the 
 window down upon their tops. Miss Aikin now 
 added to this array by plastering against the pane a 
 handkerchief which she had just been washing at 
 the stationary stand in the closet. Then she walked 
 over and sat on the open folding bed. She 
 seemed to be sitting in a shallow square box, with 
 her legs hanging over the side. Nellie was at- 
 tired in faded blue kimono, which permitted, as she 
 sat down, a glimpse of her black union suit. As 
 she walked across the room, it was evident to her 
 admiring roommate, who had often remarked upon 
 the fact, that her figure, when she was dressed, was 
 partly the work of God, partly that of woman. She 
 had fine hips and shoulders, and she was a trifle 
 sway-backed just enough for symmetry. Her 
 breast was flat, however, and her foot, as one of 
 her slippers now dropped off, was distinctly ugly. 
 The swollen joint gave a triangular line, and testi- 
 fied to the effect of vain and painful shoes. Pulling 
 the pins from her hair, she dropped it down her 
 back, running her hands through it at the temples 
 and shaking her head.
 
 44 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 "Gee, Nell, but your hair is fine!" cried Miss 
 Vinne. She was standing at the glass, combing 
 out her own scanty blond locks, and carefully tuck- 
 ing the combings into a black bag which hung by 
 the puckering string to one side of the mirror 
 frame. 
 
 Miss Aikin began to comb her own hair leisurely, 
 an occupation to which she devoted nearly an hour 
 each day, and to which she attributed in part its 
 luxuriance and gloss. Strange to say, as soon as 
 she dropped her wavy and red-gold tresses down 
 on each side of her face, her expression changed, 
 and her beauty in great measure departed. Her 
 features, small in any case, became noticeably so, 
 and took on a peaked and shrewd expression. Her 
 face, looking from its enframing hair, was strange- 
 ly suggestive of a rat peeping from a hole. 
 
 "They say kerosene's good to keep the hair from 
 falling out," remarked Carrie, as she rolled another 
 straw-colored ball around her finger and tucked it 
 into the bag, a provision for the inevitable time 
 when a switch or a "front" would become a neces- 
 sity. "But it smells so," she added. "Do you re- 
 member the time when I tried it ? Gee ! I couldn't 
 go down to the store for three days. I sent word 
 that I was sick, but old Baldy docked me the whole 
 time I was away."
 
 BEHIND THE SCENES 45 
 
 "Why don't you try vaseline?" asked Nellie. 
 "They say it's made from kerosene, and it doesn't 
 smell." 
 
 "Did you ever see that fellow again that you met 
 at that swell lady's on the South Side ?" asked Car- 
 rie, lighting the gas to heat her curling irons, a 
 favorite implement with ladies of disappearing 
 locks. "Gee ! I'll bet you're mashed on him, Nell !" 
 and she looked solemnly at her companion. 
 
 "Don't say 'gee' so much, Carrie," remonstrated 
 Nellie, picking up the scissors and holding a wisp 
 of her hair before her eyes that she might scan it 
 for split ends. "It isn't refined or ladylike. No, 
 I'm not. I'm not so soft. I'm not going to make 
 a fool of myself over anybody. I'm going to marry 
 some nice fellow who can give me a home and take 
 care of me. There's nothing in falling in love with 
 some fellow who can not take care of you, and 
 there's nothing in running around with married 
 men. They give you a nice time once or twice, and 
 then they insult you." 
 
 "Papa never insulted me," observed Carrie, wip- 
 ing the iron on a piece of paper. "He'd better not. 
 He knows I'd bounce him in no time. And don't 
 talk to me about marriage, either. Marriage is a 
 failure working for a brute of a man who doesn't 
 love you any more, and for a houseful of kids!
 
 46 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 Look at Susie Pearce, who married a floor-walker, 
 Gee! she's a fright, all skin and bone; has four 
 children and does her own work. She'd give any- 
 thing to be back in the store again. She told me 
 the last time I saw her that she hadn't had a night's 
 decent sleep in five years." 
 
 "I'm not going to have any children," said Nellie, 
 separating a guilty hair from its mates and cutting 
 off its end with a resolute snip. There was a hard, 
 un feminine tone in her voice. "I want to have 
 leisure, so's I can cultivate my mind. I believe I 
 could learn things if I had half a chance. I've got 
 a good memory. I want to go to lectures, and be- 
 long to a club, and study French'." 
 
 "Well," sighed Carrie, "I suppose you can marry 
 almost anybody you want, with your figure and 
 your hair. I wish," and she dropped down from 
 tiptoe with the iron again hot, "that I had your 
 figure ; I'd have gone on the stage. It's my collar- 
 bones that hoodoo me. They're like flat-iron han- 
 dles. You could pick me up by them. If I became 
 a regular jumbo, like that Smith girl in the perfume 
 department, I'd still have collar bones and stringy 
 arms. I'm built that way." 
 
 It was Sunday, and the two girls were making a 
 rather more elaborate toilet than usual, consuming 
 the entire morning up to dinner time.
 
 BEHIND THE SCENES 47 
 
 "What's the matter with Harry?" asked Carrie, 
 dusting her face with a powder puff, preparatory to 
 putting on her hat. 
 
 "O, he's all right, I guess," answered Nellie, ar- 
 rayed at last cap-a-pie in the costume in which we 
 first made her acquaintance, and again a statuesque 
 effect in golden brown, even to her veil, which she 
 now stretched down with a comical moue of chin 
 and under lip while she tied it behind. 
 
 "He asked to call, but of course I couldn't bring 
 him here, and Mrs. Jones is too stingy to let us 
 have the use of a parlor." 
 
 "I'm just dying to see him," observed Carrie, 
 stretching her veil loose from her nose with" finger 
 and thumb till she got it to the right tension. 
 
 There was a stiff wind without, swooping down 
 the dirty streets, peppering the faces and searching 
 the eyes of pedestrians with splinters from bits of 
 wooden walks and fences, with pulverized offal, 
 grains of floating coal, and vicious little pebble- 
 stones. With heads down, the two girls hastened 
 along until they came to a basement under a brick 
 lodging house. A sign hanging in the window 
 bore the legend, "Table board, $3.50 a week." Go- 
 ing down a short flight of stairs under that leading 
 to the first story, they came into a dark hall. Open- 
 ing a door, they found themselves in the dining
 
 48 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 room, which was furnished with one long table and 
 three smaller ones, a sideboard, and the necessary 
 complement of chairs. 
 
 Nellie and Carrie removed their veils and took 
 their accustomed places at the long table, which, 
 it being Sunday, was covered with a clean cloth, 
 much darned in places and worn thin in others. 
 There was a heavy, thick drinking glass by each 
 plate, and a small, thin napkin, folded into a tri- 
 angle. In the center was an array of condiments 
 of extraordinary number and variety when one 
 takes into consideration the probable quantity and 
 quality of the things provided to eat them on: a 
 bottle of catsup, whose brilliant and unnatural scar- 
 let hue suggested the forgotten arts of the ancient 
 Tyrian dyers ; a blue glass jar of pickles in a holder, 
 on one side of which hung a rusty table fork ; and 
 a stained and dirty bottle of imitation Worcester- 
 shire, familiarly known as "English" sauce. These 
 larger objects Huddled in the center of the board, 
 and were seldom disturbed by the customers of the 
 place; but the inevitable salt and pepper shakers, 
 of pink and blue china, two at each end, were more 
 in demand, and began to jump about like chess 
 pawns as soon as the soup appeared. 
 
 Nor should there be forgotten th'e carafe of cloudy 
 lake water, nor the immemorial basket of musty and
 
 BEHIND THE SCENES 49 
 
 soggy oyster crackers, which latter, to use an ex- 
 pression derived from higher mathematics, was a 
 "constant quantity." Such was Nellie Aikin's 
 boarding house, and it was typical of the feeding 
 places which restore the tired brains and pale blood 
 of a vast host of workers in the stores and factories 
 of our great cities a haunt of unimaginable econo- 
 mies in the matter of soups and puddings ; of stringy 
 meats, of withered vegetables, of canned lobster 
 salads, of factory pies. 
 
 Several of the guests had already arrived a 
 smooth-shaven old gentleman who had an office 
 in the Rookery Building and was currently reported 
 to be interested in mines, a slender, languishing 
 girl connected with a patent medicine concern in 
 the Masonic Temple, and a mysterious blond young 
 man whose business no one ever had been able to 
 find out. He wore very high collars and plastered 
 his hair down in the middle, making two loops of 
 exact size and shape, like a pair of curtains. The 
 old gentleman told the girls they were both looking 
 blooming, and so in fact was Miss Perkins ; and the 
 mysterious youth peeped over the top of his Sun- 
 day paper to say, "Good morning, ladies." Miss 
 Perkins observed that she thought she smelled celery 
 soup, and that it was a horrid day. 
 
 ,An Irish waitress in white apron and cap came
 
 50 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 to Nellie's shoulder and asked, "Cream of celery?" 
 Being resolved in the negative, for Nellie had a 
 theory that soups make the complexion muddy, the 
 girl demanded, "Roast pork and apple sauce, breast 
 of veal with stuffing chicken dumplin'." " Nellie Was 
 soon discussing a transparent wing of fowl with 
 scalloped edges, a piece of "white meatj] ^so color- 
 less as to suggest previous toll in the interest of 
 the soup, and a bloodless dumpling with a "soft ex- 
 terior and a bluish inpenetrable core. Nellie was 
 hungry and did not speak until the first cravings 
 had been alleviated. Then sHe whispered in Car- 
 rie's ear, "Mrs. Hutchins says he has a line salary."
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 APRIL HOPES 
 
 Harry was walking along Evanston 'Avenue, 
 toward 1the~horth, taking note of various apartment 
 buildings in process of construction, th'at were ad- 
 vertised for occupancy on May the first. The sun 
 was shining brightly this morning, and Harry had 
 donned his spring overcoat, which he was wearing 
 wide open, and adorned with a boutonniere of fra- 
 grant violets. There was intoxication in the air 
 which was irresistible a mingled feeling of relaxa- 
 tion and joy. Harry threw out his chest and drew 
 in long breaths of the balmy air. He had a con- 
 sciousness of recent escape from prison and of own- 
 ing the earth*. He seemed to take it all into his 
 lungs at each inspiration. A trolley car hummed 
 by, dragging an open trailer. On every side were 
 signs of beginning life anew. Rugs were hanging 
 from windows, and furniture was piled on front 
 stoops. People who were not going to move were 
 cleaning house. Two calciminers, carrying buckets
 
 52 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 and brush, came down the walk, looking at the 
 transoms for a number. A party of urchins was 
 playing peg-top on a side street. The oldest of 
 them was not over ten, but they were swearing like 
 pirates. A robin, sitting upon a fence post, was 
 calling sturdily and confidently, "Hear ye, hear ye, 
 spring has come," like an ancient town crier. Some- 
 where in the distance a song bird was linking a long, 
 thin chain of silver melody. The "to rent" signs 
 had begun to bloom in the windows of cottages and 
 apartment houses, and men were painting the fronts 
 of little stores. Occasionally an awning had been 
 put up. When Harry passed a large front yard 
 he noticed that green needles were thrusting up 
 through the dead, brown grass of yester-year. 
 Tiny trustful buds were swelling upon the lilac 
 sprigs. A ragged tramp slouched by with a cat- 
 o'-nine-tails for beating carpets. Harry stopped in 
 front of a millinery store, attracted by an array 
 of brightly colored hats. One especially riveted his 
 attention, an imposing structure of black straw, 
 higher on one side than on the other, with rings 
 and rings of gathered chiffon about the under side, 
 a bunch of pink roses under the brim and a larger 
 one atop. 
 
 "Isn't that a peacherino?" he soliloquized. 
 "She'd look fine in that!" He walked on, but the
 
 APRIL HOPES 53 
 
 hat dwelt in his mind. He had never noticed the 
 peculiar beauty of women's hats before. "It's an 
 art by itself," he murmured. "If I knew her bet- 
 ter, I'd buy it and send it to her. I wonder what 
 they want for such a hat?" He walked back and, 
 entering the store, sheepishly inquired the price, of 
 a pert young Jewess. She informed him that it was 
 twenty-eight dollars, and, when he looked a little 
 blank, took possession of him with great dexterity 
 and showed him a long assortment of cheaper hats, 
 trying them on herself. When he at last suc- 
 ceeded in stammering that he would bring his 
 mother around, the Jewess cried with great anima- 
 tion that she had more suitable articles for older 
 ladies. 
 
 Harry at last escaped into the street, feeling some- 
 how that he had "given himself away." When he 
 had recovered his self-possession somewhat, he 
 whistled softly to himself: 
 
 "Whew! They come high but we must have 
 them !" 
 
 His tour of inspection ended, Harry lighted a 
 cigar and rode down to the barns on the front 
 platform of the car. There was a certain exhilara- 
 tion in getting toward the center of the city so 
 swiftly where she was. He had formulated no 
 definite plan of going to see her yet, but it was a
 
 54 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 pleasure to be traveling in her direction. Seated 
 at last upon the dummy of a North Clark Street 
 cable car, he realized as never before How slowly 
 those lumbering, antiquated bone-shakers went. His 
 landmarks, "Sees's," "Scroggs' Million Dollar 
 Rheumatic Cure," the smell of the tobacco factory, 
 seemed to be whole hours apart. And this feeling 
 of slowness and clumsiness in the method of loco- 
 motion was aggravated by the consciousness that 
 he could do nothing to help himself along. Lean- 
 der, swimming the Hellespont, knew nothing of 
 the impatience of a lover going to his fair one on 
 a North Side cable car. The former could at least 
 expend his exuberant eagerness in the added vigor 
 of his stroke. 
 
 But Harry was treated to a diversion. As the 
 car stopped at a crossing, a raw blast came down a 
 side street and the spray of an advancing storm 
 whipped him in the face. Throwing away his cigar, 
 Ke swung himself along the foot-rest by the stanch- 
 ions of the dummy, unhooked the chain at the rear, 
 and passed into the closed car. Among the occu- 
 pants already there were four people, two men and 
 two women, reeking of cigarettes and whisky. The 
 men were youths, mere lads, in fact, well dressed 
 and bearing every evidence of being supplied with 
 more money than was good for them. They were
 
 APRIL HOPES 55 
 
 blear-eyed, with the moist, blubbery lips that fol- 
 low a nigHt of dissipation. Their collars and cuffs 
 were soiled, and both of them yawned frequently. 
 One was a manly, frank-looking fellow with a 
 strong, good face ; and the other a degenerate, with 
 a small chin, bulging forehead, and an air of less 
 resistance to fatigue. 
 
 Of the two women, one had a matronly figure, 
 and wore a thick veil. A velvet jacket trimmed 
 with mink, gave her a neat, but not opulent, ap- 
 pearance. The other member of the quartet was a 
 tall young girl who had tKe wilted look of a rose 
 that has lain in a warm room for several hours 
 after being broken from the stem. There was 
 about her, too, a faint suggestion of "toughness." 
 She dismounted at the next corner, and the de- 
 generate jumped to tKe street, helpe'd her down, 
 and lifted his hat as sKe passed him toward the 
 walk. He evidently came of a good family, so far 
 as manners were concerned, and had not yet learned 
 to despise women as too many youths do in the 
 years before they come to know a good one. 
 
 Harry was amused at the "outfit," as he mentally 
 called it. The remaining woman and her escort 
 seemed to be on terms of familiarity without being 
 well acquainted. He laid his hand on her knee 
 in an affectionate manner^ and asked her if sKe be-
 
 56 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 liered in an anthropomorphic God; whereupon she 
 looked at him blankly and asked. 
 
 "What in the world is that? Have you gone 
 crazy?" 
 
 And the degenerate yawned and muttered, "Oh, 
 come off, Jim. Cheeze it, can't you ?" 
 
 "I wonder if they're from The University or 
 the Northwestern?" reflected Harry. "Theological 
 students, probably, out on a lark regular old- 
 fashioned round-up." 
 
 "How slow the car goes," remarked the woman, 
 "I've got to catch a ten o'clock train." 
 
 "I'll bet there's a Husband waiting for you !" ex- 
 claimed her escort; and the trio laughed as at the 
 rarest joke imaginable. They all got off at Ohio 
 Street. 
 
 "There's nothing in that sort of thing," mused 
 Harry, passing his hand up and down his fore- 
 head where the hair was getting thin. "Takes it 
 out of a man. May do all right for such young 
 chaps as they are, but there's nothing in it for me 
 any more." 
 
 Then he felt again the touch of red-gold hair on 
 his cheek with a palpable shiver. He looked at his 
 watch'. "Only a quarter past ten I don't have to 
 show up at the office for an Hour yet. God thinks 
 I'm out on the North Side." "God," it may be
 
 APRIL HOPES 57 
 
 necessary to explain, was Mr. Chapin's name for his 
 employer. 
 
 "I'll make a brace," he resolved. "I'll stroll up 
 and ask her to go with me to see 'Sag Harbor/ 
 She can't do any more than throw me down." 
 
 His resolve once made, he removed his hat and 
 combed back his thinnish black locks with his fin- 
 gers. Then he carefully set his hat back upon his 
 head, gave the lapels of his spring overcoat a jerk 
 or two, and pulled down his cuffs with the tips 
 of his fingers and the mound of his thumb. De- 
 scending at Monroe Street, he walked rapidly 
 toward the Emporium, the great department store 
 where Nellie was working.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 ASSURANCE AT LEAST 
 
 He pushed open a storm door, and two or three 
 fat women with bundles in their arms bumped into 
 him. Then a boy in uniform opened another door, 
 and Harry was in the Emporium, a vast cara- 
 vansary, where anything can be bought from a pin 
 to a home on the instalment plan. He was dazzled 
 for a moment, as the electricity Had been turned 
 on in the long rows of big, milk-white globes. He 
 took off his glasses, wiped the rain from them, and 
 looked around. The whole place smelled strongly 
 of the perfumery and fancy soap departments, and, 
 as in all American buildings heated by modern 
 methods, the warmth was oppressive. Harry, 
 from the nature of his own business, was familiar 
 with the fact that tKe Emporium was a money 
 winner whose profits were putting up great apart- 
 ment buildings and storage rooms all over the city ; 
 that the principal partner, whose revenue was an 
 incredible number of millions a year, was a comical 
 58
 
 ASSURANCE AT LEAST 59 
 
 old Irish lady who had never yet awakened to a real- 
 ization of the great possibilities open before the 
 humblest woman when she marries a Jew. 
 
 Wherever he looked there was an array of tired 
 girls, each marvelously skilled in some little detail 
 of the business. Standing, or, in rare instances, 
 sitting behind long counters, they appeared to be 
 animated wax figures, cut off at the waist or neck. 
 One near him was tying little bows for women's 
 hair, an industry necessitated by the fad of the 
 moment. Another was selling ribbons, another but- 
 tons, another but a dapper individual stepped up 
 to him and asked in an insinuating manner : 
 
 "Anybody waiting on you, sir?" 
 
 Harry flushed guiltily and stammered, "I I want 
 to go to the cloak department." 
 
 The man took a few steps forward and pointed 
 with extended arm, saying: 
 
 "Take the elevator; get off at the second floor." 
 
 Dropping his arm to his body with a slap, he 
 walked away. Harry started briskly in the direc- 
 tion indicated, and came into a huge square well,, 
 cut through to the sky-light far above. The nu- 
 merous floors looked like balconies from where he 
 stood. Great rugs and carpets cascaded over the 
 upper railings. Some were of such size that they 
 dropped the full height of several stories. There
 
 60 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 was a continual tapping of pencils upon glass cases, 
 and a sporadic crying of, "Cash! Here cash!" in 
 flat, querulous tones. A big fire-sign advertised a 
 sale of March furniture, and a box-like transpar- 
 ency announced, "The Gordian Knot a Big Hit !" 
 This last was the popular novel of the moment. 
 Still another article, that seemed from the promi- 
 nence given it by the firm to be as good a seller as 
 the novel, was a corset with seams running around 
 the body. A bewildering variety of goods was 
 displayed on counters or on racks and frames, 
 and innumerable square banners told of prices by 
 the yard, piece, or dozen. A veritable mob sur- 
 rounded a circular soda-water counter, sipping froth 
 from glasses, or spearing with tiny spoons at the 
 elusive bits of ice-cream floating within. Litera- 
 ture, Easter symbols, ice-cream soda, corsets, Turk- 
 ish rugs, soap, buttons, spring underwear, "Cash! 
 Cash ! Here cash !" Harry became bewildered. 
 
 "Anybody waiting on you, sir?" asked a dapper 
 individual. 
 
 "I'm looking for the elevator, but I seem to be all 
 mixed up." Again the two or three courteous steps, 
 as if the floor-walker were about to guide him per- 
 sonally to the spot, again the automatic right angle 
 of the extended arm. Harry found himself at last 
 in one of the ascending cages, crowded so closely
 
 ASSURANCE AT LEAST 61 
 
 among women that he was obliged to bend his neck 
 backward in order to get his breath. His body 
 was stuck in among their soft, scented bodies as if 
 sunk in a warm quick-sand. A hard bundle was 
 pressed against his side, and the rough edge of a 
 wide hat sawed his face. 
 
 "Second floor !" called the elevator man. "Cloaks, 
 suits, millinery, ladies' and children's underwear, 
 men's and boys' clothing !" 
 
 "Ladies' cloaks ?" asked Harry. 
 
 "Cloaks, suits, millinery," replied the man, with 
 parrot-like insistence. 
 
 Harry fought his way out of the feminine quick- 
 sand and paused a moment to smooth down his ruf- 
 fled feathers. A phonograph somewhere was dis- 
 coursing a Sousa march in ghostly, metallic tones. 
 In the distance was a banner advertising a spring 
 sale of misses' box reefers. He thought they must 
 be some sort of cloak and stepped briskly down 
 an aisle in that direction. He did not wish to ask 
 for the cloak department again. 
 
 "If they knew I didn't want to buy anything, that 
 I had come to jolly one of the girls, they wouldn't 
 stand for it," he mused. 
 
 Nellie was nowhere in the vicinity of the box 
 reefers, but away over yonder was another sign 
 calling attention to some extra inducement in con-
 
 62 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 nection with ladies' cloaks. With beating heart He 
 went toward it. A small, thin girl, with light hair, 
 frizzed and browned in front from too great devo- 
 tion to the curling iron, was admiring herself in a 
 full-length mirror. She turned to look at Harry, 
 and he noticed that a cord in her neck stood out 
 taut, stretching the skin like the ridge-pole of a 
 tent. 
 
 Carrie Vinne stepped languidly toward him with 
 the formula, "Anybody waiting on you ?" 
 
 "I want to see Miss Aikin," said Harry; "I'm a 
 friend of hers." 
 
 A sudden light flooded Carrie's consciousness 
 and illuminated her features. 
 
 "I'll tell her!" she cried with animation, skipping 
 away. This was much more interesting than sell- 
 ing goods ! 
 
 "Nellie," she whispered mysteriously to tKe model, 
 who was conversing with the "fore-lady" of the 
 millinery department, "Nellie, your friend's come !" 
 
 Nellie came majestically across the floor, walking 
 on the balls of her feet. She seemed a queen in a 
 palace to Harry ; the great coil of red-gold hair set 
 squarely on top of her head was her crown. 
 
 "Why, how do you do, Mr. Chapin," sKe said 
 sweetly, extending her hand high up. 
 
 "Mr. Chapin, this is my friend, Miss Vinne."
 
 ASSURANCE AT LEAST 63 
 
 "Glad to meet you," chorused Harry and Carrie. 
 
 "Have you seen the Hutchinses lately?" asked 
 Nellie. "He's such a nice man." 
 
 "He's the best ever," assented Harry. "And so's 
 his wife. I like Mrs. Hutchins even better than I 
 do him." 
 
 "Well, tKat's natural," laughed Carrie, "that your 
 friend, being a gentleman, should like the lady best. 
 Why don't you ask your friend to sit down, Nel- 
 lie ? It's just as cheap as standing." 
 
 "No, no, thank you," objected Harry, glancing 
 about nervously to see if anybody had come to be 
 waited on. "I just wanted to see you for a minute. 
 I wanted to ask you if you wouldn't go to the 
 theater with me. They say there's a good bill on 
 at the Grand this week Bobby Gaylor he's fun- 
 nier than a goat. Or maybe you'd rather go see 
 Anna Held. She's all the rage now, or or they 
 say 'Sag Harbor' is fine." 
 
 "Oh, do go !" cried Carrie. "Gee ! I wish some- 
 body'd ask me to go to a theater. They wouldn't 
 have to ask twice !" 
 
 Nellie hesitated a moment, looking shrewdly at 
 Harry, out of hazel eyes with a reddish gleam in 
 them. The under lids came up a little till they 
 were nearly covered with the fringe of yellow-brown 
 lashes dropping down from above. Her eyes be-
 
 64 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 came mere slits, and she gave him the furtive glance 
 of the cat that seems half-asleep when it is most 
 awake. This man was in earnest, sure. He was 
 fumbling with his hat awkwardly, and there was an 
 expression of intense anxiety on his thin, sallow 
 face. 
 
 "Don't refuse," he pleaded, changing from one 
 foot to the other. "We shall I shall, at least, pass 
 such an enjoyable evening." 
 
 "Couldn't we go somewhere else?" asked Nellie. 
 "I don't care for Bobby Gaylor or Anna Held." 
 
 "Anywhere you like !" cried Harry eagerly. 
 
 Nellie thought a moment. Her mind reverted to 
 "Quo Vadis" and "Cyrano," but neither was play- 
 ing in town at that time. 
 
 "Couldn't we go to Powers' to see 'The Ambassa- 
 dor ?' " she asked. "I want to see something in- 
 structive, something improving to my mind." 
 
 "Oh, certainly, of course," assented Harry, who 
 would have been just as enthusiastic had she men- 
 tioned spiritual instead of mental culture as the main 
 object of the theater. "One must always improve 
 their mind whenever they get a chance. Shall we 
 make it to-morrow evening, at seven-thirty? I'll 
 call for you." 
 
 "With pleasure. I suppose the invitation includes 
 Miss Vinne?"
 
 Couldn't we go to see 
 "The Ambassador"
 
 ASSURANCE AT LEAST 65 
 
 Harry's face fell. "Oh, certainly," he stammered, 
 "that goes without saying. Didn't I mention Miss 
 Vinne ?" 
 
 "Miss Aikin, Miss Aikin," called a saleswoman. 
 "Will you step this way just a moment?" 
 
 With an "Excuse me, please," Nellie was gone. 
 A moment later Harry saw her attired in a silver- 
 colored, brocaded opera cloak, trimmed with chiffon 
 and chinchilla. It had wide flowing sleeves, and 
 the fur collar turned up on each side of her face 
 brought its silver gray into contrast with the gold 
 of her hair. At the end of a short beat she turned 
 with all the majesty of a queen and swept a little 
 way in the direction of Harry and Carrie. 
 
 "See that old frump in the chair?" whispered the 
 latter. "She's got a figure like a sack of potatoes. 
 She imagines the coat would look on her like it does 
 on Nellie." 
 
 "So it would nit!" laughed Harry. "But isn't 
 this a kind of a pea-and-shell game? Anything 
 would look well on Miss Aikin." 
 
 "Guess you think so," said the girl shyly. "Look 
 here, you don't have to take me along to-morrow 
 night. Nellie is so strict. She won't go out alone 
 with a gentleman. You're in luck that she accepted 
 your invitation at all."
 
 66 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 But Chapin had quite warmed to the frizzled lit- 
 tle woman who was looking up into his face. 
 
 "You come right along," he said, "I really want 
 you to. I'm a smooth party, you see. I have to 
 be solid with you ; you're Miss Aikin's chum !" 
 
 "Oh, that's it, eh? Well, I'll say a good word 
 for you." Harry cast one more glance at the stately 
 figure in the opera cloak, and bidding Carrie, "good 
 by till to-morrow night," he went away. 
 
 "Anna Held!" he muttered with indignation. 
 "Anna Held is a cow compared with her. Isn't in 
 her class at all." 
 
 "Daown, going daown ?" 
 
 As he stepped into the elevator, the phonograph 
 called after him in the nasal drawl of a well-known 
 actor of rustic roles : "The feller that gits onter 
 the floor fust shall kiss tHe purtiest girl in the room 
 ah, ha! ha! ha! ha!" And followed by that 
 spectral laughter, he left the place, moistening his 
 dry lips with his tongue, and wondering how he 
 should be able to wait till to-morrow nigKt.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 A MATCHMAKING 
 
 The theater party was a success all around. 
 Harry enjoyed it because it gave him several hours 
 in the society of the girl with the red-gold hair, and 
 Nellie because she found "The Ambassador" a high- 
 toned performance that seemed a thing really worth 
 talking about. As for little Carrie Vinne, though 
 she would have preferred Anna Held, she was rec- 
 ompensed by the fact that the costumes worn by the 
 "Ambassador" people were "perfectly lovely." 
 
 But one has little chance to make love at a theater 
 party of three, after all. True, Harry invited the 
 girls down to Rector's after the show, but not 
 even there did he find the least opportunity even 
 to cast a sentimental glance in the direction of 
 the fair one. Trie place was crowded, and the 
 blaze of vulgarly redundant electric lights reflected 
 in a wilderness of mirrors gave glaring pub- 
 licity to every detail of the meal. So Harry did 
 some deep thinking, with all that astuteness of per-
 
 68 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 ception and facility of resource common to madmen 
 and lovers, and hit upon an excellent expedient. 
 He went to his friend Crissey and asked for an in- 
 vitation to dinner for himself and Miss Aikin. 
 Crissey did not fail him; and Miss Aikin gladly 
 accepted a written invitation to accompany Mr. 
 Chapin to the Crisseys' on Sunday for the noon- 
 day meal. This was the sort of thing that sHe 
 had dreamed of. 
 
 Harry called for Nellie at eleven o'clock, and she 
 was ready to come down as soon as he rang. In 
 fact, she had been ready for some time, as she did 
 not know what could be done with him should it 
 be necessary to invite him in. The lodging house 
 had no public reception room. The weather had 
 relapsed, and there was a blizzard on. Harry 
 turned up the collar of his coat as he stood on the 
 icy steps, mentally commenting that "these raglan 
 coats may be swell, but they're not warm." 
 
 "Is Miss Aikin in?" he asked, as a nondescript 
 girl, neither lady nor servant, virtuous nor disrepu- 
 table, the landlady's daughter, in fact, opened the 
 door. 
 
 "Is that you, Mr. Chapin ?" called a voice from the 
 upper landing that sent a thrill of warmth through 
 Harry's veins. "I'm coming right down." In an- 
 other moment she was standing on the threshold,
 
 A MATCHMAKING 69 
 
 too radiant an apparition, her admirer felt, to 
 emerge from so cheerless a hall with its acrid smell. 
 She wore a neat cloth coat and the brown hat, and 
 she had about her neck a collaret of brown marten 
 fur. 
 
 "Isn't it a perfectly abominable day?" she ex- 
 claimed, putting her muff up to her throat, as the 
 wind threw a handful of snow at her face. 
 
 "You'll both get snowed under," cried the land- 
 lady's daughter, closing the door. 
 
 "Kind of a con game on the part of tKe weather 
 man," assented Harry. "But I like it it stirs up 
 a man's blood and relieves the monotony. Look out, 
 or you'll slip on the steps," and he solicitously took 
 her by the arm. He could not help noticing through 
 all her clothing that it was round and firm, and the 
 discovery, or confirmation, rather, made him feel 
 cool about the roots of his hair. 
 
 "Crissey lives out on Humboldt Boulevard, on 
 the West Side," explained Harry. "We'll take a 
 State, transfer on Clark, and then again on North 
 Avenue." Opening his umbrella, he held her close 
 to him, and so they pushed their way against the 
 wind, laughing and chatting merrily. 
 
 "It's going out like a lion," observed Nellie, catch- 
 ing her breath. Horizontal lines of snow were 
 driving by. Big, soft flakes adhered to their cloth-
 
 70 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 ing, beautiful single crystals, or fluffy clusters like 
 bits of cotton. When the fickle wind died for a mo- 
 ment the air was thick with' innumerable white 
 lances plunging downward at an oblique angle, while 
 here and there bevies of lighter flakes swirled up- 
 ward, as if rebounding from tKe earth. The trees, 
 on the side facing the wind, had white lines along 
 the center of their trunks and greater limbs, with 
 the dark brown of the bark showing on either 
 side. A yard filled with lilac bushes resembled 
 a bit of fairy land. The shrubs, on which the 
 bursting buds had been visible only a few days be- 
 fore, were now all in white, as though they had sud- 
 denly burst into a profusion of bloom. 
 
 "See tKere!" cried Harry, enthusiastically, 
 "doesn't that remind you of those little kaleido- 
 scopes you used to look into when you were a child ? 
 Sort of ghostly and unreal ?" 
 
 "It's more like the trees and things we used to 
 make in a fruit jar," replied Nellie. "There were wire 
 skeletons inside, and we put alum in, and it settled 
 on the wire and made white men and trees and 
 and things." 
 
 The air and sky were milk-white. The fops of 
 the houses and of the street cars were sugar-coated 
 with snow, and the telegraph wires were long ropes 
 of frayed cotton. They scrambled on to the tail
 
 A MATCHMAKING 71 
 
 of a nortH-bound trolley, and Nellie unfastened the 
 collaret from her neck to shake the snow from it. 
 Harry gave her coat one or two passes with his 
 handkerchief as she stepped into the car. 
 
 "If it melts on, you'll take cold," he explained 
 when she did not wait for the attention. 
 
 The Crisseys lived in a frame house, with a 
 pointed tower at one corner somewhat resembling 
 a steeple. There were two uprights, both facing the 
 street, and standing side by side; one was lower 
 than the other and farther back, giving the architect- 
 ural effect of a mother house with its young. The 
 maid came to the door, followed closely by Crissey, 
 who would have opened it himself had not his wife 
 despatched Lena with much haste and trepidation. 
 Crissey had been so busy of late years that he did 
 not know that Americans no longer open their own 
 doors to admit guests. 
 
 "Come in," he cried heartily, "and shake your- 
 selves off. How do you do, Miss Aikin? Let me 
 help you with your cloak." 
 
 "Isn't this a corker ?" exclaimed Harry, referring 
 to the weather. They stepped into a reception room 
 where a pleasant grate fire was burning. Through 
 one door they looked into a parlor, where the most 
 conspicuous objects were a piano and an oil painting 
 of Mrs. Crissey's father, whose round i toothless
 
 72 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 mouth was so tightly closed that wrinkles ran out 
 in all directions like spokes of a wheel. Another 
 door opened into Crissey's study, where could be 
 seen an easy chair, upholstered in leather, shelves 
 filled with rows of books, and a table on which stood 
 a drop-light with a green shade. 
 
 Mrs. Crissey came in, a two-year-old girl hiding 
 in a fold of her dress. The little one hid behind her 
 mother's leg as though it were a post, and peeped 
 around it at the guests, a fleeting apparition of 
 tousled white hair, fat cheeks wearing a splash of 
 raspberry jam, and monstrous blue eyes. Another 
 girl of four, in a blue and white pinafore, with pink 
 ribbons tied in her hair, stood in the hall door hold- 
 ing a doll by the leg; and in the deeper vista was 
 a boy of nine, with his arms held stiffly at his sides, 
 and a nervous look on his face as though he were 
 trying to remember previous instructions about con- 
 duct. 
 
 "How do you do, Mr. Chapin?" said Mrs. Cris- 
 sey, holding out her right hand, while she pulled 
 the fallen little one to its legs with her left. 
 
 "Dorothy, this is Miss Aikin," said Mr. Crissey, 
 and the two women shook hands. 
 
 "Disagreeable weather, isn't it," remarked Nel- 
 lie, taking a proffered seat. 
 
 "Too horrid for anything."
 
 A MATCHMAKING 73 
 
 Mrs. Crissey dragged the little Dorothy from the 
 fold of her dress and set the child on her knee. 
 
 "Ah there!" cried Harry, "ah there! Look out! 
 Don't you make goo-goo eyes at me." Going up to 
 the little one, he pinched her gently with each word, 
 talking baby talk, "I'll tell your mama on you 
 , and she won't stand for it, not a minute." 
 
 The baby bubbled over with laughter, and Harry 
 tossed her in the air, crying, "Oop-te-day." 
 
 "Isn't it remarkable," said Mrs. Crissey, "the way 
 Dorothy takes to Mr. Chapin? I assure you," 
 turning to Harry, "you're the only person outside 
 of the family she isn't afraid of." 
 
 "Oh, she's onto her job all right, Dorothy is," 
 laughed Harry. "She's got good judgment ahem. 
 No, the fact of the matter is, Mrs. Crissey, that chil- 
 dren are like dogs : they know by instinct when 
 people really like 'em. Hello, there's tKe other one. 
 Come here, Molly." 
 I ain't Molly." 
 
 "Yes you are, Molly Jane Jones." 
 
 "No I ain't. I'm Agnes Matilder Cwissey, an' 
 I live at ninety-four Humboldt Bouldevard." 
 
 "All right. Well, come here, Agnes Matilder, 
 and let me see your doll." 
 
 The child advanced without hesitation and ex- 
 tended the doll, head down.
 
 74 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 "She's lost she's eyes," she explained. "I poked 
 'em wiz a pencil, and they corned right out. They're 
 in there." She sKook the doll, and the loose eyes 
 rattled inside the head. 
 
 "I'll tell you what I'll do," said Harry. "You put 
 her in my overcoat pocket out there in the hall, 
 and I'll take her to the doll-hospital and get her eyes 
 fixed." 
 
 Agnes looked inquiringly at her mother, who 
 said: 
 
 "You'd better do as Mr. CHapin says, Aggie dear, 
 and he'll bring Lucinda back with" her eyes as good 
 as ever." 
 
 "Surely pop?" 
 
 "Surely pop," said Harry. 
 
 "He'll take her to the housepittal ?" 
 
 Assured on this point, and also that he would 
 bring her back, the child went out into the hall and 
 stuffed Lucinda into Chapin's overcoat pocket. 
 
 "Where's Jim ?" asked Harry. 
 
 "James dear !" called the mother, and the boy ad- 
 vanced into the room; walking straight up to Nel- 
 lie, he stood very close to her, stiff as a totem pole, 
 looking over her head with unseeing eyes. 
 
 "This is my son, Mr. James Crissey," said Cris- 
 sey whimsically, and Jim extended his arm automat- 
 ically, allowing his hand to hang limp at the wrist.
 
 A MATCHMAKING 75 
 
 Nellie shook the hand, and Jim said in a sepulchral 
 tone, "I'm glad to meet you," after which he turned 
 about until he was exactly facing Harry, for whom 
 he made a bee line. Arrived, he again extended 
 the limp hand. Harry seized it and gave it a sud- 
 den jerk, nearly throwing Jim off his feet. 
 
 "Hello, John L.," he said. Then he whispered 
 something in Jim's ear : 
 
 "How did you come off with that boy that was 
 going to lick you ?" 
 
 "Say!" blurted out Jim in a perfectly natural 
 voice, "ye ought to've seen me soak 'um !" 
 
 "Now, Mr. Chapin," cried Mrs. Crissey, "I believe 
 you are responsible for a good deal of Jim's badness. 
 He's getting to be a terrible fighter. I've had to 
 threaten to whip him if he fights any more. He 
 gets his clothes torn and his nose all bloody. He 
 came in one day last week a perfect sight." 
 
 "How's this, John L. ?" laughed Harry; "this 
 don't seem to be one-sided after all. The other 
 fellow's right there while you are slugging him, 
 and then mother gives you a whipping when you 
 come home." 
 
 "Huh," said Jim, sullenly; "I take ma's lickin' 
 out'n the other feller, too." 
 
 Crissey laughed heartily. "There, there, Doro- 
 thy, don't mind," he said. "Jim takes after me.
 
 76 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 I was a fighter, too, when I was a boy am yet, 
 for that matter. Jim'll come out all right, you see 
 if he doesn't. Do you know, Miss Aikin, that the 
 boy has quite a fine idea of justice, and that he never 
 picks a quarrel or imposes on lads smaller than 
 himself ?" 
 
 "How very interesting!" exclaimed Nellie. 
 
 "Excuse me, please," said Mrs. Crissey, "while 
 I go and see what has become of our dinner. I 
 warrant you are all starved half to death." 
 
 "Here, John L., let me feel your muscle," whis- 
 pered Harry. 
 
 A moment later Lena appeared in the door of the 
 reception room, announcing dinner ; and Agnes Ma- 
 tilda wandered in with her hands clasped behind 
 her back and her little face in the air, chanting in 
 a high, humdrum voice, "Dinner's weady, dinner's 
 weady, dinner's weady " a song which con- 
 tinued even after she had been placed in her high 
 chair, and which only ceased after stern sotto- 
 voce threats of ignominious removal to the kitchen. 
 Mrs. Crissey took her place at one end of the table, 
 flanked on her left by a row of childish faces the 
 baby next her, then Agnes Matilda, then the pugna- 
 cious Jim. Harry and Nellie sat at her right, and 
 Crissey took his accustomed place at the foot. 
 
 Mrs. Crissey was a sweet little woman, with
 
 A MATCHMAKING 77 
 
 traces of care on her still youthful face, and hands 
 that showed evident signs of work. Her complex- 
 ion was still good, but the red in her cheeks had 
 dwindled to the smallest, palest patches ; and there 
 were lines of care about her eyes and mouth' 
 lines, however, that did not detract from the sweet- 
 ness of her expression, for they were evidently 
 traced by the finger of love and eager sacrifice. 
 There was a tiny blotch of white hair over her fore- 
 head that lay among the soft brown of her still 
 abundant locks as a patch of snow upon the ground 
 in early autumn. Yet who shall say that Dorothy 
 Crissey was in the autumn of her days albeit her 
 position as mother of a sufficiently large family 
 gave her a matronly air? She was in reality in her 
 thirtieth year. Her eyes were gray, and a trifle 
 too close together for beauty. They were serious 
 eyes, soft and tender ; and she had a way of holding 
 her chin a trifle down and looking up at you when 
 she talked. Her eyebrows were straight and deli- 
 cately penciled, save for a cunning little wave in the 
 one on the left. She wore her hair parted plainly 
 in the middle and drawn back over the tips of her 
 ears, ears which were, perhaps, a little too large. 
 At least, a spiteful schoolmate had told her so in 
 early girlhood and had caused her to tuck th'e topsr 
 of them for a life-time beneath' her Hair. Her .
 
 78 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 nose was small, and her upper lip at the center of 
 the bow a trifle prominent; yet her mouth was 
 her sweetest feature. It will be seen that there 
 was nothing Grecian about this little woman, 
 whose virtues and charm were all of the domestic 
 the American domestic order. The one thing 
 about her that was most unmistakable and redolent 
 was femininity; and yet her face was rounded out 
 by a good strong chin that spoke of individual will 
 and the power to do and to suffer. She was dressed 
 in a dark blue serge with white collar and cuffs. 
 
 The dinner proceeded without much talk. There 
 was oyster soup, a good honest roast of beef, a 
 salad, and a brick of ice-cream, brought in from 
 the drug store on the corner. Mrs. Crissey was 
 busy much of the time feeding the two babies. 
 Once she asked Nellie if she did not think Curler's 
 milk a blessing, and Nellie confessed that she did 
 not know what it was, whereupon the mother de- 
 clared that she could not live without it. Nellie 
 was in a somewhat embarrassing position and could 
 not think of anything to say. She repeated one or 
 two of John Oliver Hobbes' aphorisms from "The 
 Ambassador" rather inconsequentially; and Harry, 
 who did not remember having heard them before, 
 was confirmed in his admiration for her intellect. 
 She was in deep water when Mrs. Crissey talked
 
 A MATCHMAKING 79 
 
 to her about the children, and as for talking 
 to them, it would have been easier for her to con- 
 verse with Professor Garner's monkeys. Harry 
 had now become a great wit in the eyes of the little 
 folk, and they laughed outrageously whenever he 
 opened his mouth. Once Agnes Matilda, with her 
 mouth full of mashed potato, gave sudden vent to 
 a flood of volubility. 
 
 "Sometimes tlie silderns comes over to play with 
 me, Bessie and Dell Lau teryung and we play, 
 'London Bwidge is falling down, falling down, 
 falling down ; London Bwidge is falling down, fall- 
 ing down, falling down ; London Bwidge is ' " 
 
 "Aggie, in heaven's name!" cried Mr. Crissey. 
 "Dorothy, can't you stop that child? If she gets 
 started on that once, she may keep it up all day." 
 
 "Agnes !" commanded the mother, leaning over 
 and shaking the child, who had kept right on, "if 
 you don't stop that, you can't have any ice-cream." 
 
 "My pair lady !" concluded Agnes. "I'll be good, 
 mama, oh, I'll be good, mama." 
 
 Harry laughed immoderately, and Nellie mur- 
 mured, "Children are so interesting !" 
 
 "What's this?" asked Crissey, as Lena brought 
 on something in small dishes. "Oranges ?" 
 
 "Taste it, and see Kow you like it," replied his 
 wife. "It's orange salad. I got the recipe out of
 
 8o THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 this morning's paper. How do you like it, Miss 
 Aikin?" 
 
 It was one of those abominable dishes which we 
 Americans perpetrate under the absurd name of 
 salad in the present instance, sliced oranges, let- 
 tuce, peanuts and garlic, with olive oil. 
 
 "It is delicious," replied Nellie, tasting it judicial- 
 ly, thougfi she ate none of it. 
 
 "As for me," commented Crissey, "I prefer my 
 lettuce in a Christian manner, with vinegar and 
 sugar." 
 
 Jim and Harry were the only ones at the table 
 who actually ate their portions ; Harry out of good 
 nature, and Jim by strength of a boy's indiscrimi- 
 nating appetite. 
 
 Little Dorothy and Agnes set up such a fearful 
 howling for more ice-cream that Mrs. Crissey 
 was obliged to leave the table early. Dorothy Sec- 
 ond went to sleep straightway, and Agnes was in- 
 duced to stay a little while in the kitchen with 
 Lena. 
 
 Mrs. Crissey talked to Nellie while the men 
 smoked in Crissey's study. 
 
 "Have you read The Gordian Knot?' " asked Nel- 
 lie, referring to the novel advertised on the depart- 
 ment store transparency. Mrs. Crissey had not even
 
 A MATCHMAKING 81 
 
 heard of it, and Nellie declared that it was almost 
 impossible to keep up with" all the latest successes. 
 
 "I am now reading Tolstoi's 'Resurrection/ " she 
 added. "Don't you think it is perfectly grand ?" 
 
 Mrs. Crissey had not read "The Resurrection." 
 
 "I don't get much time for reading," she ex- 
 plained. "I am busy with the children from the 
 time Aggie and Dorothy wake up in the morn- 
 ing until bed-time. First, the little ones have to 
 be dressed and given their breakfasts, then I have 
 to get them ready for school and take Aggie to the 
 kindergarten ; then I have to superintend the getting 
 of lunch and dinner, and, between times, there is 
 mending and a hundred little things to be 'tended 
 to!" 
 
 "I shouldn't think you'd get much time to culti- 
 vate your mind," said Nellie, sympathetically. 
 
 "I don't," laughed Mrs. Crissey, merrily, as 
 though it were the best joke in the world. "Ed- 
 ward does enough of that for both of us. My hus- 
 band is a great student," she continued, with a 
 note of pride in her voice. "He sits up and pores 
 over his musty old law books or writes till all 
 hours of the night. My Husband laugKs at my 
 books what few I have," and she took a volume 
 from the center-table. "I bought this because every-
 
 82 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 body is talking about it, but I can't get interested in 
 it to save my life. It's a dollar and a half book, 
 and I got it for ninety-seven cents." 
 
 Nellie strolled about tHe room and picked up 
 the half dozen volumes that she found lying about, 
 and glanced at their titles. Besides the "ninety- 
 seven cent one," there was "David Harum," Riley's 
 "Home Folks," a "Life of Dwight L. Moody," tHe 
 inevitable "Lucile," and a center-table edition of 
 Longfellow. 
 
 "I can't understand what people are making such 
 a fuss over that 'David Harum' for/' remarked 
 Mrs. Crissey, following Nellie about. "Just an ig- 
 norant old Yankee horse trader. Now, here's a 
 book that I did like. Dorothy rolled down the base- 
 ment steps while I was reading it, and Agnes nearly 
 fell out tlie front window. I don't know what 
 would become of th~e children if I should get hold 
 of another sucH book," and she laughed again. "You 
 have to keep your eyes on the little dears every 
 moment, or something is sure to happen to them; 
 and when they are the quietest they are either in 
 the greatest danger or the most mischief. This 
 is tlie sweetest story," extending a book to Nellie. 
 "It's all about a princess wKo married a king, but 
 remained true all the same to a young knight, and 
 became his wife in the end. I like to read about 
 grincesseSj don't you? Especially when the book
 
 A MATCHMAKING 83 
 
 makes you feel that tfiey're just the same as other 
 women, after all." 
 
 "It must be a great privilege to live with such 
 a brainy, brilliant man as your husband," remarked 
 Nellie. 
 
 "Oh, Edward is the best man in tfie world,**" re- 
 plied the wife, eagerly and warmly, giving Nellie 
 a grateful look from lier serious gray eyes. "He's 
 as good and noble as he is talented, but I don't get 
 a chance to see much of him these days. When he 
 isn't busy with politics or a case at court, he is 
 working on a horrid book that he is writing 
 something on contracts, or corporations, or some- 
 thing of that sort. I couldn't understand it if he 
 were to explain it to me. It is all I can do to keep 
 the children quiet wHen he is writing. He tells 
 me if I succeed in doing that I shall have done as 
 much toward the book as he Has, and that he will be 
 quite willing to dedicate it to me." And she 
 laughed again. Mrs. Crissey's laugh, by the way, 
 was the most cheerful and infectious sound in the 
 world, and Nellie joined in this time, despite the 
 fact that she felt the joke was at her hostess's ex- 
 pense. 
 
 When, later, Crissey invited Nellie into his sanc- 
 tum sanctorum to look at his books, she felt a 
 definite sense of pity for the handsome, white-
 
 84 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 haired, young-looking- man, so brilliant, so studious, 
 who was tied up to so stupid a wife and a family 
 of squalling children. Harry Had gone to show 
 Jim how to set a basket rat-trap in the basement, 
 and Dorothy had waked up, crying, "Mama," with 
 the full force of an admirable pair of lungs. 
 
 "I regard this as a great privilege," said Nellie, 
 with her explosive little laugh. "May I sit here 
 in the author's chair ? Perhaps some great thoughts 
 will come into my Head." 
 
 Mr. Crissey's library was characteristic. Besides 
 the books that he was collecting with reference to 
 his work on "The Law of Corporations," there were 
 standard authors in sets Shakespeare, of course, 
 Gibbon, Macaulay, Hume, Scott, Thackeray, Dick- 
 ens, Locke, Milton, and some of the old dramatists ; 
 translations of the principal classics, as well as of 
 some of the foreign masters of contemporary 
 thought Tolstoi, Zola, Maeterlinck, and a few of 
 the sweeter poets, such as Keats, Wordsworth and 
 Shelley. On his table lay one or two recent novels 
 of deeper purpose, "The Resurrection," by Tolstoi, 
 and "Labor," by Zola. 
 
 "Oh, are you reading 'The Resurrection/ Mr. 
 Crissey ?" cried Nellie. "Everybody is reading that 
 book now, and everybody is talking about it. Didn't 
 you find it perfectly grand ?"
 
 A MATCHMAKING 85 
 
 Crissey picked the volume up and held it at some 
 little distance from his face, looking at it while he 
 expressed his opinion. 
 
 "It is certainly a powerful work," he said oracu- 
 larly, "but that is no reason for its popularity. 
 Though it was written for men and intended as 
 a sermon, it is read principally by women; and 
 women, I fancy" here He laughed, "who have some 
 grudge against the sterner sex either unwilling 
 old maids or embittered advocates of equal rights, 
 hangers-on of Adamless clubs all that nondescript 
 mob of amphibious creatures, trie sort who wear 
 tight skirts and derby hats, you know." 
 
 "Why, Mr. Crissey! And why do such people 
 read 'The Resurrection'?" 
 
 "Well, perhaps I am putting it a little too strong, 
 but I have no use for an unwomanly woman. Why 
 you see, in this novel of Tolstoi's, tHe reckless young 
 man is made to feel the enormity of his offense 
 toward one of the weaker sex, and his conscience 
 compels him to attempt some restitution. Now, I 
 have a theory that the more a woman apes masculin- 
 ity the greater is her secret yearning for the weak- 
 nesses and graces of her real sex. Such a woman 
 feels a sort of sympathy with a victim of the Tol- 
 stoi type, because sKe realizes that sKe herself is a 
 victim of man's weakness. In the right sort of
 
 86 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 a civilization a civilization where men were really 
 men, women would not be driven to the necessity 
 of being masculine. It's a sort of general protest 
 against man's inhumanity to woman, you see." 
 
 "How beautifully you do explain it !" gushed Nel- 
 lie. "What a great gift it is to be so eloquent !" 
 
 Crissey laid the book down gently, and a scarcely 
 perceptible expression of weariness came over his 
 face. 
 
 "Great indeed," he laughed; "but here come the 
 folks." 
 
 Harry found an opportunity to speak to Crissey 
 alone before leaving the house. 
 
 "Isn't she a peach, old man?" he said, chuckling 
 hysterically. "Isn't she a regular queen, eh ? And 
 brains! God didn't forget anything when hie was 
 making her. He put it all in ; he didn't leave out 
 a thing. How do you think I stand? Now, just 
 from your own observation, you know, do you think 
 I'm playing my hand all right ?" 
 
 There is but one thing to do when a friend has 
 fixed his heart upon a member of the opposite sex, 
 if you wish to remain in his good graces, and Cris- 
 sey did that thing. 
 
 "I think you hold four aces, old man," he said 
 kindly. 
 
 Harry seized his hand and sKook it nervously.
 
 A MATCHMAKING 87 
 
 "Honest?" he said. "You're not stringing me 
 just because you're a friend of mine?" 
 
 "No; I really think you're solid there." Harry 
 gave the hand another spasmodic shake. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Crissey came to the door to bid 
 their friends good by. The gentle hostess held 
 Dorothy in her arms, and her husband towered 
 beside her. Aggie dashed suddenly out on the 
 porch, and, pulling open Harry's pocket, peeped 
 within to see if Lucinda was still there. 
 
 The sun was shining with dazzling brilliancy on 
 the snowy world, though it was late in the afternoon, 
 as Harry and Nellie walked briskly down the boule- 
 vard in the direction of their car. The English 
 sparrows were burrowing in the fluffy snow, shak- 
 ing it from their wings with all the seeming enjoy- 
 ment of mischievous children. 
 
 "What an interesting man Mr. Crissey is!" re- 
 marked Nellie. "And so much more intelligent 
 than his wife !" 
 
 During the long street-car journey, she asked 
 Harry if he had read Tolstoi's "Resurrection," and 
 he was obliged to confess, somewhat shamefacedly, 
 that he had not. 
 
 "The book was really intended by tHe author as a: 
 sermon," explained Nellie, "a sermon to men, but 
 the people wKo are really reading it are the women :
 
 88 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 women's rights, club women, and so on. There is 
 a young man in it who is made to feel sorry for 
 the wrong which he had done to a young woman, 
 and he tries to make restitution. All women feel 
 sympathy for each other, no matter how much they 
 may ape masculine manners. Man's inhumanity to 
 woman is a bond of sympathy between them." 
 
 "I must try to read up more," said Harry, hum- 
 bly; "I must get you to make me out a list of 
 books." 
 
 "I'm not in that woman's class at all," he mused, 
 as he strolled down town from the Erie Street lodg- 
 ing house. "I'll have to bone up but even if I 
 were to swallow a whole library, I wouldn't have 
 Her brains. What a witty way she has of saying 
 things! Let me see, what was that? Oh, yes; 
 'man's Humanity to woman is the bond of sympathy.' 
 That's good enough to put in the paper." 
 
 And so He walked aimlessly along, dreaming of 
 the girl with the red-gold hair, nor did he awake 
 from his reverie until reminded by his stomach that 
 a man must eat, even though he be in love. He 
 looked about him; the pall of evening was settling 
 over the grim city, and the electric signs had begun 
 to wink changing colors.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 THE DIE IS CAST 
 
 After Nellie Had once made up Her min'd that 
 Harry "meant business," as Carrie Vinne expressed 
 it, it did not take her long to decide in his favor. 
 Thirty dollars a week, earned by another, witK no 
 necessity for trying on beautiful cloaks all day that 
 other women might wear them, seemed to her a de- 
 cided improvement upon her present condition. It 
 was not queenly, but it was a definite opportunity to 
 become a respectable married woman, to keep a 
 "girl," to belong to a church and club, to cultivate 
 her mind. As she explained this to Carrie, one 
 night as they were preparing for bed, sKe brought 
 her eyes together until the hazel pupils with the red- 
 dish gleam in them peeped through mere slits, and 
 the long curling lashes, yellow-brown in color, swept 
 downward toward her cheek. 
 
 "Yes, V Harry's all right, too," said Carrie, who, 
 despite her collar-bones that resembled flat-irons, 
 had a catholic friendliness for the other sex. "When 
 89
 
 90 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 he gets on that raglan coat of his and a silk hat, 
 he's a regular dude. Gee, didn't he look swell the 
 other night when he took us to the theater? And 
 he's good-hearted, too, Harry is. If he likes any 
 one, nothing's too good for 'em." 
 
 "He's not intellectual," replied Nellie, in the tone 
 of one making an inventory, "but you can't expect 
 too much, I suppose." 
 
 Harry proposed one Sunday night in May, in 
 Lincoln Park. It had been one of those warm days 
 which occur in this inconsequential climate before 
 the spring is fairly launched. Nellie went with him 
 for a walk. He remembered it afterward as the 
 happiest, most delirious day of his life. A heavy 
 fog had fallen during the forenoon, and the eager 
 boy had gone forth early to study the face of the 
 weather, fearful lest rain should spoil his pleasure. 
 He had noticed that the buds were swelling on 
 the trees, and that the moisture, trickling down a 
 million branches and twigs, was dropping like tears 
 from the tiny extremities. Several times, as he 
 heard splashes on the paved walk and saw the 
 drops spread out in irregular stains, he had looked 
 up at the sky with startled eagerness to make sure 
 that it was not indeed raining. A fog horn, some- 
 where out in the Lake, mooed at times, like a cow 
 whose calf has been taken from her. At noon the
 
 THE DIE IS CAST 91 
 
 sun was shining brightly, and by three o'clock 
 many of the buds had actually opened their fairy 
 fists and were spreading their delicate palms in 
 benediction above a resurgent world. Harry fan- 
 cied that he could actually see the buds open, and 
 his heart felt as though" it were opening with them. 
 
 "If she gives me the least encouragement, I'll 
 speak," he muttered, clenching his fist in determi- 
 nation, not surmising that the lady had resolved 
 to seize this occasion to make him declare his love 
 by one or another of those wiles which are known 
 to the most timid of the finer sex. 
 
 They passed the late afternoon strolling about 
 the park, looking at the animals, the flowers in the 
 green-house, and the beds of crocuses and other 
 flowers which seem to spring up on lawns and 
 under front windows, beneath the very heels of win- 
 ter. They took a ride in a pony carriage, not re- 
 turning the little animals until the electric lights be- 
 gan to gleam among the trees. 
 
 Nellie demurely assented to all of Harry's devices 
 to prolong the outing, nor did she demur when he 
 conducted her to a seat in a retired nook. 
 
 "Are you chilly?" he asked her frequently. "I 
 should never forgive myself if I let you catch cold." 
 And Nellie replied : 
 
 "No; not at all. It's just like summer, isn't it?"
 
 92 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 "Oh, we'll have snow yet," repeated Harry every 
 time, studying desperately for some way to lead up 
 to the momentous question in a natural and skilful 
 manner. But the more he studied, the more mud- 
 dled he became, and the farther away from the point 
 he seemed to get. Suppose after all this stately 
 and beautiful creature, who must have been sought 
 after by many men of greater consequence than he, 
 were going out with him simply because she re- 
 garded him as a safe though agreeable person? 
 Pshaw! it was impossible that she could love him. 
 If he asked Her, and she refused, as she was almost 
 sure to do, then what would become of his beautiful 
 dream that had grown so necessary to his life ? 
 
 "What makes you tremble so?" asked Nellie. 
 "Are you cold? I am not. See how warm my 
 hand is." 
 
 He held the warm, strong, soft hand in his and 
 leaned toward her in the wan light. His face looked 
 thin and drawn. 
 
 "Nellie," he murmured hoarsely. 
 
 "Yes," she whispered. 
 
 "I I are you sure you are not getting cold ?" 
 
 She could scarcely repress an exclamation of dis- 
 gust. "How can I ever live with such a fool ?" she 
 thought.
 
 THE DIE IS CAST 93 
 
 After a few moments, she began to fumble with 
 the knot of her veil behind her head. 
 
 "Please untie it for me," she requested. As 
 Harry was working at the knot, the red-gold hair 
 tickled him on the cheek. He lost his head, and in 
 a reckless swoon of passion put his arm about her 
 neck. 
 
 "I love you, I love you," he sobbed. "Will you 
 marry me, Nellie? Will you be my wife?" 
 
 Nellie suffered him to kiss her and to hold her 
 tight, with his hot face pressed to hers. Then she 
 sat up straight, and arranged her hat and her dis- 
 ordered locks. 
 
 "There's some one coming," she whispered.
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 THE LAND OF DESIRE 
 
 The first Sunday in June; Harry and Nellie went 
 over to St. Joe to get married. They were accom- 
 panied by Miss Vinne. A little before nine the 
 bridal party walked through the large, shed-like 
 building where the tickets are bought, and across 
 the bridge to the lower deck of the steamer which 
 was to sail with them to the Islands of the Blest. 
 
 Oh, Bridal Boat, what burdens of hopes and fears 
 do you bear away every Sunday morning during all 
 the long summer! Beyond that dim, misty veil 
 yonder where the blue sky seems to melt into the 
 blue lake and become one with it, who knows what 
 new life, what destinies await ? As the lovers come 
 over two by two, their hearts are thrilled with the 
 old primeval joy, with all the romance and yearn- 
 ing of the twilight ages. They feel the same de- 
 lirium that Sappho and Phaon felt, Pyramus and 
 Thisbe, Leander and Hero, Paris and Helen, Abe- 
 lard and Heloise. Their names may be Polish, 
 94
 
 THE LAND OF DESIRE 95 
 
 Swedish or German, as they appear in the news- 
 paper lists next morning, and they may be going 
 to settle down in little wooden cottages or in stove- 
 heated flats ; but, oh ! they love, and they are steam- 
 ing away to the land of Heart's Desire. A sailing 
 ship should carry them off over purple waters by 
 the light of the silver moon, to the sweet strum- 
 ming of ancient harps and the voice of distant sing- 
 ing. Instead, they go on a lake steamer, down a 
 dirty river, while boys cry the Sunday papers, and 
 a negro orchestra plays rag-time but oh! they 
 love, and not all the horrors of modern civilization 
 can take the romance out of young love. God bless 
 them all, and make them happy ; and, if an awaken- 
 ing must come in some instances, may it be put off 
 as long as possible ! May those who are fools stay 
 in their paradise for many years ; for what paradise 
 is better than a fool's while it lasts ? 
 
 It would not have been difficult for the most in- 
 experienced eye to pick out Harry and Nellie as a 
 bridal couple, despite the air of bravado and un- 
 concern which they assumed. In any case, the 
 self-conscious manner of Miss Vinne, whose ro- 
 mantic soul made her almost imagine that she was 
 going to her own wedding, would have betrayed 
 them. Nellie looked ravishingly sweet, attired in 
 a dark blue foulard silk and a blue straw hat
 
 96 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 trimmed with corn flowers and taffeta ribbon. Her 
 gown, to be sure, had been a "leader" at Handel's 
 for the past two weeks, and one could' have seen 
 half a hundred like it any Sunday morning on tak- 
 ing a walk. 
 
 Nellie never did any sewing. She had never 
 learned, and besides, she had not the time. She 
 accepted philosophically the fact that all her gar- 
 ments were sewed together with a chain stitch and 
 were likely to give way somewhere at any moment. 
 But they generally looked jaunty while they lasted, 
 and this particular gown was no exception to the 
 rule. 
 
 Harry was attired in a gray spring suit and 
 straw hat and carried a light overcoat on his arm. 
 Though unutterably tempted to help Nellie up the 
 bridge and the stairs to the upper deck, he walked 
 boorishly on ahead, according to directions, while 
 his sweetheart followed as best she could with 
 Carrie. 
 
 To Harry and Miss Vinne, it must be explained, 
 was due the ideal plan of going to St. Joe for the 
 ceremony. Harry had no relative at all at whose 
 house he could have been married, and Nellie's 
 only living kin of any nearness was her father, 
 who lived in the little village from whence she 
 came. For reasons of her own, she kept him in
 
 THE LAND OF DESIRE 97 
 
 the background. She had contented herself with 
 writing to him concerning the coming change in her 
 life; and Harry had received a queer, fanatical let- 
 ter, asking him if he believed in baptism by immer- 
 sion, and advising him not to play cards, even with 
 his wife. 
 
 "Some men think they can play just a little whist 
 in their own house," it said, "and that nobody will 
 see them. But God sees them, and they become 
 common, ordinary card-players." A large part of 
 the letter was devoted to a rambling discourse on 
 the subject of matrimony in general, which the 
 writer seemed to regard as a permissible but not 
 advisable step, clinching his argument with Christ's 
 statement that in Heaven they neither marry nor 
 are given in marriage, and with St. Paul's to the 
 effect that "it is better to marry than to burn." 
 Harry was too happy to think much of the letter, 
 and he dismissed it with the reflection, "he must 
 be a queer old guy; it's a good thing he don't live 
 in this town." 
 
 They took seats on the upper deck and amused 
 themselves in attempting to pick out the bridal 
 couples, only those who came aboard with children 
 escaping suspicion. They were in a narrow canal 
 lined with huge red warehouses, labeled with great 
 signs. A bridge, crowded with people, swung par-
 
 98 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 allel with the current, and looked as though a por- 
 tion of the highway had been blown about and sus- 
 pended in mid-air. 
 
 Pedestrians, bicyclists and carriages rapidly col- 
 lected on both sides of the river, all intensely in- 
 terested in the marriage boat. A privileged boy 
 dashed through the ticket office and shouted from 
 the walk below : 
 
 "Get your morning papers, and your chewing 
 gum!" 
 
 Two wits leaned from the prow of a ship anchored 
 a few yards above and engaged in a contest of 
 facetiousness. 
 
 "I'll leave my Happy home for you-oo-oo!" sang 
 one. 
 
 "Cheer up; the worst is yet to cornel" bawled 
 the other. 
 
 "Take my address; 'divorces on the instalment 
 plan," responded the first, throwing what appeared 
 to be a pack of business cards into the air. 
 
 Every sally provoked a burst of derisive groans 
 or shrieks of laughter from the bridal steamer. 
 Harry and Carrie were highly amused, but Nellie 
 murmured : "How vulgar ! Will we never start ?" 
 
 At last they were off, headed for the Lake, winding 
 along tfie dirty, useful, busy river. The long walls 
 o'f red buildings slid by them, tall brown elevators,
 
 THE LAND OF DESIRE 99 
 
 whole cities of freight cars in parallel lines, huge 
 piles of coal. Every moment an impudent, lawless 
 little tug darted by in asthmatic haste, coughing out 
 clouds of black smoke. They entered the mouth of 
 the river, where were a few trim yachts lying within 
 the breakwater. Harry felt that they were now 
 really embarking upon their new life, and he pressed 
 Nellie's hand furtively. Soon they were looking 
 back on a line of square, dark buildings, which 
 they were rapidly leaving. Those which faced the 
 Lake front seemed to emerge from a vast pall of 
 rolling, tumbling smoke, frowning there grim and 
 forbidding against the battlements and outer walls 
 of some plutonian capital. For some time they 
 sat silent, engrossed in the novelty of the situation, 
 basking in the beauty of the Lake and the clear sun- 
 shine. 
 
 "I don't feel as if I ever was going back to Chi- 
 cago again," exclaimed Carrie at last. "Who would 
 think that you could get out of it and away from 
 it in half an hour?" 
 
 "You must get married, Carrie," cried Harry, 
 "and then it won't make any difference wKere you 
 live. Any old place will be all right so long as it's 
 home." 
 
 "That's just it," replied the girl. "You two are 
 going back to your cosy little flat, and I will show
 
 TOO THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 up to-morrow in the store ; and then all this will be a 
 dream." 
 
 "Come around to our house, and Nellie and I 
 will cheer you up any time you're blue. Won't we, 
 Nellie?" 
 
 "Carrie knows sKe will always be welcome at my 
 home," replied Nellie. 
 
 "I guess you'll think three's a crowd and two's 
 company, for a while." 
 
 "No such thing," replied Nellie severely. "How 
 vulgar that would be! Dear me, Carrie, you're 
 quite incorrigible" and she laughed in her nervous, 
 explosive way, a habit that was more a manner of 
 talking than a laugh. They were sitting on the 
 shady side of the boat, back in a sort of corner be- 
 tween the rail and the outside wall of the main 
 parlors. There was a dense throng and a universal 
 fluttering of white newspapers. Every moment a 
 man appeared holding camp stools and looking for 
 places. Then the people already seated would in- 
 stinctively lean toward open spaces in their line of 
 formation, or throw out proprietary legs. Mothers 
 passed through the crowd, sturdy, self-reliant 
 women, dragging their offspring. Young girls in 
 groups of three and four wound their way in and 
 out in long strings, their hands clasped and their 
 arms outstretched.
 
 THE LAND OF DESIRE 101 
 
 The boat had no sooner passed the crib than 
 lunch baskets were opened ; and popcorn balls, boxes 
 of cracker -jack, slices of bread and butter, apples, 
 bananas, began to appear in the hands of children, 
 and to be scattered about the deck. 
 
 "Get onto his job-lots," whispered Carrie, nudg- 
 ing Harry's elbow. "Gee, ain't he got it bad ? St ! 
 st ! Nell ; look at tKat couple just over Harry's left 
 shoulder." 
 
 An elderly man, dressed in youthful style, was 
 trying to scratch a spot from his fair partner's shirt 
 waist with' a long, transparent finger nail. Desist- 
 ing from this occupation as soon as he perceived 
 that the spot was indelible, he pulled, not hard 
 enough to hurt, at a lone hair on the side of her 
 chin. She was a slender woman, with young eyes 
 and old wrinkles, with a fresh complexion and 
 gray streaks in her hair. When she laughed her 
 teeth reminded one of Phidias, who first combined 
 gold and ivory with signal success. Carrie sud- 
 denly grew grave. 
 
 "Perhaps they have been waiting all their life-time 
 to get married, Nell," she whispered solemnly. 
 
 "How romantic!" sighed Nellie. 
 
 There was a perceptible rush for the door of the 
 cabin. Harry's eye, keen for amusement, noted
 
 102 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 that some of the young girls were unconsciously 
 stepping the cakewalk as they moved across the 
 deck. Young and thoughtless persons recklessly 
 left their chairs and joined the crowd pushing 
 through' the door. Others piled coats and baskets 
 on them, or besought those who had no idea of 
 leaving to Hold their seats till they got back. 
 
 "I believe the vaudeville's on down below," cried 
 Harry, springing up. "Come on, girls." 
 
 Carrie jumped erect and clapped her hands. Nel- 
 lie rose with dignity. 
 
 "I don't care much for vaudevilles," she mur- 
 mured. Then she sat down again. "You and Car- 
 rie go. I I believe I'm seasick." 
 
 Harry leaned over her, whispering: "My poor 
 darling! Can I do anything for you? Perhaps 
 there's a doctor on board. Shall I get you some 
 whisky, some champagne, something, anything?" 
 
 "Don't be silly," laugh'ed Nellie, a laugh exactly 
 like all her others, yet plainly indicating vexation 
 this time. "Somebody'll hear you. I'll be all right. 
 I'll sit still Here. Go on, if you want to." 
 
 There was a tone of command in her voice, and 
 Carrie was already firmly wedged in the throng 
 that was crowding toward the cabin door. 
 
 "You're sure I can't do anything for you, 'dear ?"
 
 THE LAND OF DESIRE 103 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "You aren't very sick, darling?" 
 
 "No, no." 
 
 He went after Carrie, looking anxiously back 
 every moment at his intended bride. Seizing the 
 little "saleslady" by the waist, he pushed her 
 through the crowd, using her thin body as a wedge. 
 It was great sport, and they both" laughed gaily;. 
 The stairway, at which they soon arrived, was 
 packed. It was an inclined plane of human heads. 
 
 "I'll stump you to lie down on top of the heads 
 and slide to the bottom," whispered Harry. 
 
 "Oh, aren't you comical !" screamed Carrie. 
 
 They forced their way to a step about Half-way 
 down, and listened. They could hear tantalizing 
 laughter in the room below, but nothing else. 
 
 "You're little," suggested Harry ; "scrooch down 
 and tell me what you see." 
 
 Carrie did as commanded, and reported, "Only 
 a big pair of feet. I guess a feller's singing a comic 
 song. Gee ! Wouldn't I like to hear him !" 
 
 "There's nothing in this," said Harry after a lit- 
 tle, thinking of Nellie. "Let's go back." 
 
 'As they passed the piano in the upper cabin, they 
 found that a crowd of men had collected about it 
 and were listening to a girl with bleached Hair who
 
 io 4 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 was pounding it noisily and singing a song. The 
 men joined in the chorus with great enjoyment : 
 
 You've all had 'em, 
 You've all had 'em, 
 'And if you haven't had 'em, 
 'You'll have 'em by and by. 
 
 Miss Vinne pinched Harry's arm. "Gee!" she 
 exclaimed. "What would Nellie think of that ?" 
 
 "Are you feeling better now, lovey?" asked 
 Harry, sitting down again by Nellie's side. 
 
 She smiled at him, and he was unspeakably happy. 
 
 "She'll be in her own little nest to-night," he 
 murmured, "and she needn't ever leave it again, if 
 she don't want to." 
 
 As the day wore away, several of the couples, 
 impatient of the slowness of the ship, became 
 oblivious of their surroundings. A rosy Swedish 
 maiden whose swollen hands were bulging in white 
 cotton gloves, like the leaves of a bud in its out- 
 grown sKell, leaned with all her weight against her 
 shock-headed lover. He was a slender prop for so 
 much sweetness, but he braced himself manfully, 
 looking defiantly happy. The woman with the 
 old wrinkles and the young eyes sat hand in hand 
 with her middle-aged adorer. A tall and ungainly
 
 THE LAND OF DESIRE 105 
 
 youth deliberately removed his sweetheart's straw 
 hat and gently pulled her head upon his shoulder. 
 She was a piquant brunette with short hair and a 
 retrousse nose; she struggled faintly, and then 
 sighed as she settled down to bliss and the feeling 
 of being owned. A couple near the starboard wheel 
 lost their heads and kissed each other passionately. 
 
 Poor Carrie Vinne went to the rail and leaned 
 over, looking into the dark waters of the Lake. She 
 felt herself alone. 
 
 A little boy, who had eaten cracker-jack and ap- 
 ples until his parents refused to give him more, 
 grew fretful and bad. He cried and kicked his 
 mother with his heavy shoes, whereupon his father 
 seized him and administered two or three spanks 
 upon his tightly-fitting trousers. 
 
 "Leave me be, leave me be !" he screamed, and his 
 mother took him on her lap and comforted him. 
 
 At last the shore appeared, a long line of blue- 
 gray sand, marked with triangular patches, like 
 the hither side of a row of pyramids. There 
 was a general rustling of paper and a bustle 
 everywhere. Pop-corn bags were tucked into 
 baskets, and sheets of the Sunday journals were 
 shaken out and folded together. Young girls 
 forged through the throng to find their mothers, 
 and men rushed frantically below after the grips
 
 106 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 which they had checked. The prospective brides 
 stole away to the toilet rooms, smoothing out their 
 ruffled feathers as they went. A dense throng 
 gathered at the prow, gazing at the land of prom- 
 ise, still distant, leaving a few of the more experi- 
 enced and less eager travelers in possession of the 
 vacant seats. Carrie straightened and looked 
 around with a sad smile. 
 
 "Come on," cried Harry ; "we're almost there !" 
 Nellie arose leisurely, and the trio passed through 
 the cabin toward the bow of the steamer. The 
 "tough" young lady was still seated at the piano, 
 surrounded by men. They had evidently been 
 drinking, and they were singing with lugubrious 
 earnestness : 
 
 "I don't know why I love you, but I do-oo-oo !"
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 A HOME GARDEN 
 
 Mrs. Crissey was kneeling before a circular patch 
 of bare earth in her front yard, setting out bulbs. 
 It was a bright morning in early June, at the time 
 of the year when lawns are greenest and trees leaf- 
 iest. The sun fell lovingly on the rank grass, and a 
 dewy freshness lingered in the shady places. A flock 
 of white doves wheeled in the air and then fell like 
 great snowflakes upon the green of a neighboring 
 yard. The baby, her cKubby legs lying athwart a 
 circular border of pansies, was scraping up hand- 
 fuls of black earth and pouring it through her fat 
 fingers. Occasionally she rubbed her hands over 
 her face and through her hair. Her sunbonnet, 
 which she pulled off as fast and as often as her 
 mother tied it on, lay beside her on the grass. Her 
 great blue eyes, profoundly serious, were the only 
 portion of her visible exterior which she had not 
 succeeded in soiling. 
 
 One shoe and stocking lay near the discarded 
 107
 
 io8 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 hat, and the leg thus exposed was so fat that the 
 foot seemed set upon the end of the calf without 
 any ankle at all. Agnes Matilda was bringing earth 
 from a bed that ran along the end of the house. 
 She carried a tiny shovel in her hand and pulled 
 after her a toy wagon, heaping full. Lucinda, her 
 eyes restored by the amiable Chapin, lay on top of 
 the load, with her face to the sun. The day being 
 hot, Agnes Matilda had removed all of the doll's 
 clothing, and its limp form, to any eye save that of 
 imaginative childhood, looked strangely like a lilli- 
 putian corpse. Agnes wore a blue pinafore, reach- 
 ing to a little above her knees, and a Mexican hat 
 with a conical crown, She talked incessantly, stop- 
 ping as often as her breath ran down to recover it 
 with a gasp and to begin a new sentence or to re- 
 peat an insistent question. Her mother was an- 
 swering the child mechanically, knowing that if she 
 failed to respond at regular intervals, Agnes Ma- 
 tilda would call, "Mama, mama," until an answer 
 was forthcoming. 
 
 When Mrs. Crissey looked up it could be seen 
 that her face did not bear the strong morning light 
 very well. Her figure was youthful ; her light sum- 
 mer waist, with reddish stripes in it, and her big 
 straw hat tied down over her ears, gave a jaunty, 
 almost girlish effect. But there were wrinkles at
 
 A HOME GARDEN 109 
 
 the corners of her eyes, and the fluff of hair that 
 nestled under the eves of the big straw hat was 
 powdered with gray. 
 
 Agnes Matilda ran one wheel of the toy wagon 
 into a hole and cried, "Mama, come and help 
 me; it's too hard." This demand called for an ac- 
 tual move on the mother's part, a result which she 
 avoided by asking the little girl to run around the 
 house and bring her the watering can. 
 
 "All right," replied the child, dwelling on the 
 first word for several seconds and bringing out the 
 second with a jerk. In a few moments she re- 
 turned from the errand, demanding, "Mama, 
 where are the water canj mama, where are the 
 water can ?" 
 
 "Go and ask Lena," suggested Mrs. Crissey, and 
 Agnes Matilda again disappeared. When she re- 
 turned she was dragging the large tin bucket along 
 by the spout, shouting triumphantly: 
 
 "Here it are, mama !" 
 
 There was an unnecessarily loud rattling in the 
 kitchen, where Lena was washing the breakfast 
 dishes and was singing a German song with the 
 chorus ending in "Numero, numero neun." Mrs. 
 Crissey glanced anxiously from time to time in the 
 direction of the music and its accompaniment, won- 
 dering how many dishes Lena was breaking.
 
 i io THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 Agnes Matilda, after poking the watering can 
 in her mother's face, with the oft-repeated asser- 
 tion, "Here it are/' fretfully and at last angrily 
 reiterated, returned to the wagon. TKe baby con- 
 tinued to sift dirt through its chubby fingers, in- 
 finitely contented. 
 
 "Come here and let me see if your ears are clean," 
 called Mrs. Crissey, as Jim came through the screen 
 door opening upon the porch. He was attired in 
 knickerbockers and a short bicycle coat of blue; 
 and a little plaid cap was set on the back of his 
 head, exposing all of his freckled, fearless, impish 
 face to the sun. He carried his books swinging like 
 a pendulum at the end of a long strap, one end of 
 which he had passed around his wrist. 
 
 "I don't want anybody poking 'round in my ears," 
 he grumbled defiantly; "I guess I know how to 
 wash my own ears." 
 
 "James," said the mother in a low, portentous 
 tone, fixing her gray eyes on the boy, who ad- 
 vanced reluctantly. There was a deal of reserve 
 force in Dorothy Crissey's nature, and she never 
 shouted or "flew to pieces" when she intended to 
 be obeyed. Seizing the boy by the lapel of his 
 coat, she pulled him down toward her and dug a 
 slender, searching finger into one of the convolu- 
 tions of his ear.
 
 A HOME GARDEN in 
 
 "Ugh!" she exclaimed. "Aren't you ashamed 
 of yourself? The teacher would certainly have 
 sent you home, and I should have been mortified to 
 death. You should have more respect for your 
 father, if not for me. How would it sound if the 
 neighbors should say that the son of Edward Cris- 
 sey, alderman, had been sent home from school for 
 dirty ears?" 
 
 "I guess the teacher wouldn't uv found any dirt," 
 grumbled Jim, going back to the house. "There's a 
 place there in my ear that nobody knows about but 
 you." 
 
 "There's the po'man; there's the po'man'!" cried 
 Agnes Matilda, as the letter carrier entered the 
 front gate, and she dashed down the walk toward 
 him, swinging her doll by one leg. He gave the 
 little girl four letters which she brought to her 
 mother. 
 
 "I wonder why my sister doesn't write ?" muttered 
 Mrs. Crissey, looking at the superscriptions. 
 "Here, Aggie dear; take these into the house. 
 These three are for Lena, and this one is for your 
 papa." 
 
 Five minutes later Edward Crissey came out, 
 flushed with excitement and looking very handsome 
 and manly in his morning costume a high silk 
 hat, and a dark sack suit, the vest of which was
 
 ii2 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 cut very low, exposing a vast expanse of im- 
 maculate shirt bosom. But for his necktie, of 
 some soft material with long, fluttering ends, one 
 could almost have fancied him attired in a dinner 
 coat. He held the letter, which he had just finished 
 reading, between the tips of finger and thumb. 
 
 "Hello, Dolly!" he cried. "All at it, eh? The 
 children'll soon have consumed the traditional peck 
 of dirt at this rate. The baby here looks as though 
 she had actually been rooting like a pig." 
 
 "She h'as, pretty nearly," replied Mrs. Dolly. 
 "At least she has rolled over with her nose in the 
 soft dirt two or three times. Who was your letter 
 from, dear?" 
 
 Edward picked up the child and brought its soft 
 body close to his face. "Boo!" he said. "I can't 
 find a clean place anywhere to kiss." Putting the 
 little one abruptly down, he added, "By-by, Dolly; 
 I have to rush off." 
 
 "Oh, papa, you didn't give me a kiss," shrieked 
 Agnes Matilda. 
 
 "Well, come here, then. Hurry up." 
 
 He had gone but a few steps, when Agnes cried 
 again, "You forget to give me a hug." 
 
 The hug was bestowed ; and he had nearly reached 
 tHe gate when the child flew frantically down the
 
 The letter which he had 
 just finished reading
 
 A HOME GARDEN 113 
 
 walk, shouting in a high, shrill voice, "And a pat! 
 and a pat ! I want to pat you on your seek !" 
 
 The big man stooped down while a tiny hand 
 patted his face, and a rosy, grimy cheek was up- 
 turned for a reciprocal caress. But Agnes Matilda 
 was not yet satisfied. 
 
 "You never kissed mama ! Oh, you never kissed 
 my mama !" she cried reproachfully. 
 
 "That's so," laughed Crissey, turning back. 
 "Come here, Dolly, I must make a clean job of it, 
 or the child will never let me get away. One would 
 suppose that I was going to Australia." 
 
 "Oh, don't delay on my account," replied Dolly, 
 holding the watering can toward the sun, that she 
 might see where the leak was. "We're getting too 
 old for sentiment, anyway." 
 
 "Not a bit of it," cried her husband, in his genial, 
 Honest manner, not noticing the slight lone of re- 
 proach in Dolly's voice. "Come here and give me a 
 kiss, quick. I have an important appointment at 
 ten, and here it is a quarter past nine now." He 
 held his watch in his hand as he kissed his wife. 
 "What do you think? Here's Philip Murchison, 
 the great railroad Magnate, wants to see me on 
 business. When big railroad corporations begin to 
 consult a lawyer, he can safely say tKat he's rising.
 
 n 4 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 EK, Dolly? You'll wear diamonds yet." And he 
 was gone. Dolly looked after him with admiring 
 eyes. But she sighed as she went back to her water- 
 ing can. 
 
 "Of course he'll rise, my noble, brilliant boy. But 
 oh, if he only knew how much I prefer kisses to dia- 
 monds 1"
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 A MISCALCULATION 
 
 Mr. Philip Murchison was a "magnate," the se- 
 cret of whose great success lay in his ability to ac- 
 quire valuable city franchises and concessions. The 
 skill to buy men, with' the complementary instinct 
 as to what men are venal, is as auriferous a faculty 
 as the ability to locate gold mines. Mr. Murchison 
 sometimes made mistakes, it is true, but Ke regarded 
 an exhibition of personal integrity in the light of 
 an unforgivable insult, and He managed sooner or 
 later to take revenge. 
 
 When this shark first swam into commercial 
 waters He had little money and an unsavory repu- 
 tation ; but backers can always be found for those 
 who Have "business ability," and as for reputation 
 well, he did not come to officiate as pastor of 
 a church or to engage in settlement work. He 
 now rode in a private car and owned a controlling 
 interest in two or three surface railways. It was 
 even rumored that he had about sucked dry his
 
 ii6 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 opportunities, and that he was planning an inva- 
 sion of the city of Paris, which he hoped to 
 disfigure with elevated tracks. He was a rather 
 short, stout man, with iron-gray hair and mustache. 
 He had a square, high forehead ; shrewd, gray eyes 
 with thinly penciled brows ; thin, bloodless lips, re- 
 minding one of the lips of a fish ; and a square chin. 
 He made no friends among those who could not be 
 of use to him. Such he dismissed in the most in- 
 cisive manner and with an air of contemptuous an- 
 noyance that was postively insulting. In the case of 
 those whom he hoped to use, his voice was caressing, 
 with a flattering note. When talking with" members 
 of the swell society set, there was a touch of servility 
 in his manner for Ke had social aspirations. As 
 a purely business venture he had acquired a great 
 newspaper, through which he largely advertised 
 his mysterious charities and the fact that he had 
 founded a hospital. When a man's wealth passes 
 a certain point, it is absolutely necessary for him 
 to combat public discontent with' a reputation for 
 private and public benefactions much advertised 
 in a shrewd way. 
 
 Mr. Murchison, despite the fact that he was as 
 devoid of human sympathy as a devilfish and as im- 
 placable as a shark, had one weakness, one failing; 
 he was a libertine, and, like tKe poet Horace, he
 
 A MISCALCULATION 117 
 
 enjoyed the society of chambermaids and servant 
 girls. He dined frequently at the Park Club 
 with ruddy-faced girls of robust figure and gauche 
 manner. These were always magnificently at- 
 tired, but they tottered unfamiliarly on high- 
 heeled shoes, and their hands, when they removed 
 their large gloves for dinner, were red and puffy, 
 as though* recently swollen by dish water. There 
 were rumors of orgies on a private car and in the 
 cabin of a Lake yacht, which did not tally with the 
 keenness of tfie man's business eye, nor with the 
 fishy coldness Of his thin lips. Neither were these 
 reports consonant with" the editorials and news items 
 in tKe Daily Interior, nor yet with the private 
 charities and the benefactions to tKe hospital. But 
 then, every great man is maligned more or less by 
 envious tongues, and Mr. Murchison was very, 
 very rich. 
 
 He was sitting in his private office, on the day 
 after dictating a message to Alderman Crissey. He 
 occupied a palatial suite of rooms in the Minnehaha. 
 You enter one of the several doors under a brown- 
 stone arch and confront a cage holding a Half dozen 
 elevators. Alderman Crissey took one of the ele- 
 vators, which shot suddenly upward when the start- 
 er clacked his castanets. "Mr. Philip Murchison," 
 said Crissey, not without conscious importance in
 
 ii8 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 his voice, and the car stopped so suddenly that tHe 
 alderman felt a swooping in the pit of his stomach. 
 
 "To the right," said the boy ; "number three hun- 
 dred and seven." 
 
 Mr. Crissey entered the door of three hundred and 
 seven and gave his card to a blond young woman 
 who sat at a typewriter in one corner of the ante- 
 room. He was immediately admitted to the 
 presence of the Magnate, who rose from work at 
 an imposing roll-top desk near a window, and 
 greeted him with extended hand. Crissey no- 
 ticed that the hand was cold and damp. 
 
 "Ah, Mr. Crissey, I'm glad to meet you at last," 
 said the Magnate in his caressing voice. Crissey 
 ran his fingers through his thick, white hair and 
 set his silk hat carefully on the floor. 
 
 "Take a seat," continued the Magnate. "You'll 
 find that arm-chair comfortable, I think. Do you 
 smoke?" and Ke proffered a box of perfectos. Cris- 
 sey accepted and lit one, finding it quite a revela- 
 tion in the matter of tobacco; but he refused to 
 drink, on tKe plea that it was too early in the day. 
 
 "Delightful summer we're having," observed the 
 Magnate, taking in with one glance of almost super- 
 human cunning every detail of the manly counte- 
 nance before him; tHe youthful cheeks, the gray
 
 A MISCALCULATION 119 
 
 hair, the prominent strong nose, the frank fear- 
 less eye. 
 
 "Yes," replied Crissey; "confirms my opinion 
 that this is the pleasantest summer city in the United 
 States. Nor have I any fault to find with the win- 
 ters. Take it the year 'round, this town's good 
 enough for me." 
 
 Murchison laughed pleasantly. 
 
 "You're a loyal citizen," Ke remarked, "and 
 that makes my business with you all the easier 
 for me." Mr. Murchison never lost time. The 
 face before him was not promising for his business, 
 but it indicated that success, if gained at all, was 
 only possible by a sharp and frank assault. Cris- 
 sey looked at him inquiringly. 
 
 "You're a rising man, sir," affirmed Murchison. 
 
 "We all strive for success, sir/' admitted the 
 alderman. 
 
 "Yes, but we don't all get it. I have heard your 
 name mentioned frequently of late, and always 
 with the remark, 'Alderman Crissey is a rising 
 man.' When things begin to come a man's way, 
 the rest of his career is much easier than his earlier, 
 struggling years. At least I have found it so in 
 my own case." 
 
 "There is much truth in what you say, sir" re-
 
 120 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 plied Crissey, much mystified; "I don't know that 
 I should be glad to find that my struggles were all 
 over, however. I am something of a fighter, my- 
 self. There is no greater joy than meeting obstacles 
 and overcoming them." 
 
 And he stretched out his brawny arms as though 
 proud of their strength. 
 
 Could it be that Murchison was about to offer 
 him a position as attorney for his immense inter- 
 ests, at a salary that would send Jim to college and 
 allow Dolly to ride in her own carriage? If so, 
 he must think carefully before accepting. There 
 was his political career, his moral and intellectual 
 liberty. 
 
 "I like that," cried the Magnate enthusiastically. 
 "I like a fighter." He lit a fresH cigar and faced 
 the alderman frankly, crossing his legs. "You 
 and I are much akin in that respect and so are all 
 successful men, I think, in this democratic country 
 of ours. 'The strenuous life,' as Roosevelt calls it, 
 that's the thing for us. But there are some strug- 
 gles of such magnitude that they give a man op- 
 portunity to do all the fighting he cares for on his 
 own account, and in wHicH it is necessary to Have 
 as much powerful help as possible." 
 
 "For instance?" inquire'd Crissey, blowing out a
 
 A MISCALCULATION 121 
 
 long stream of smoke, and leaving his mouth still 
 puckered as though frozen there by attention. 
 
 "I have even heard Edward Crissey spoken of as 
 a possible candidate for senator." Th'e alderman 
 started. This was his dearest ambition, one of the 
 goals on which he had set his mind and to which 
 he had determined to attain. But he did not in- 
 tend to mention this ambition to any one until he 
 saw its attainment more nearly within his grasp. 
 
 "I have no such hopes at least, at present," he 
 faltered. 
 
 He fancied that he began to see; some wealthy 
 corporations wished to help him in his political 
 career, perhaps even as far as the United States 
 Senate ultimately, and own him. He was not deep- 
 ly offended he felt rather complimented ; but he 
 smiled faintly as he thought of the mistake that 
 Murchison had made in his man. Own him! He 
 knew that he could not be any man's man if Ke were 
 to try. It was not in his nature. 
 
 "You wrote that you wished to see me on busi- 
 ness," he said with considerable dignity. 
 
 "Take a fresh cigar," said the Magnate, proffer- 
 ing the box a second time. "No? Put one in your 
 pocket. Well, I'll come right to the point. Your 
 time's valuable as well as mine. I am, as you know,
 
 122 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 interested in telephones. You know also that 
 there is great popular discontent with the serv- 
 ice here. People refuse to believe th'at the com- 
 pany is doing its best under the circumstances, 
 and they wonder and justly why such a high rate 
 as ten cents is charged for the public instruments. 
 Now it is necessary for some intelligent, public- 
 spirited, practical men, who have something to say 
 in the matter, to understand wherein lies the real 
 difficulty. To conduct a great business like this, 
 it is necessary for the company to be on a safe and 
 permanent basis. The franchise under which we 
 operate expires now in a very few years, and, in 
 view of the public discontent, we lack confidence 
 in ourselves, and we fail to inspire the confidence of 
 capital. 
 
 "What we need is a renewal of our franchise for 
 a long term of years, say fifty. Then our stock 
 would go booming, and we should feel justified in 
 putting more money into the business could get 
 more money for it. What would be the inevitable 
 result? Better apparatus, newer appliances, more 
 expensive and capable employees, cheaper service. 
 
 "We could guarantee, with a good long extension, 
 to reduce the yearly rates immediately, and to put 
 the public rates at half what tKey now are. Is 
 tKere any reason why a man should put his hand
 
 A MISCALCULATION 123 
 
 into his pocket and drop ten cents into the slot 
 every time he wishes to tell his wife he won't be 
 home to dinner? No, sir; we admit that it is an 
 outrage. But what can we do about it ? The com- 
 pany is losing money as it is. With an extension of 
 franchise, we could make money on a five-cent rate 
 now. Perhaps," and here the Magnate grew en- 
 thusiastic, "we could allow people to telephone after 
 four or five years for one penny !" 
 
 "And you wish me " 
 
 "I'm coming to that. You are just the man to 
 support us in the city Council. The Legislature has 
 already been we have the Legislature with us, as 
 you know. You would be a tower of strength to us 
 in the Council. Your well-known integrity, your 
 unimpeachable character, your eloquence, your com- 
 manding influence, would insure us victory. Your 
 support would give the lie to all those who see a 
 'job' in every measure for the public interest. Your 
 reward? For we must always think of number 
 one, if only incidentally. Your reward would con- 
 sist in increased popularity. You would always be 
 spoken of as the alderman who gave the people 
 cheaper and better telephones. Then, too," and 
 here Crissey felt that the Magnate's eyes were 
 searching his very soul, "you would be associating 
 yourself with a number of wealthy and influential
 
 124 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 men who would come to know you as a friend, and 
 who would help you on your onward and upward 
 course." 
 
 Crissey sat quietly smoking, looking at the toe 
 of his right boot, for several minutes. The Mag- 
 nate watched him. 
 
 "I have no faith in his philanthropic motives," 
 thought the alderman. "He's for Philip Murchi- 
 son first, last, and all the time. I've got him! I'll 
 hint at a bribe. He wouldn't want to bribe a man 
 for philanthropic motives." 
 
 He looked up at the Magnate. 
 
 "Business is business, Mr. Murchison. The re- 
 ward which you suggest is ah hardly tangible 
 enough; hardly immediate enough." 
 
 The Magnate gave a sudden start, and his face 
 brightened. 
 
 "How much do you want?" .he asked bluntly. 
 His voice assumed a familiar tone, with a slight sus- 
 picion of contempt, as though he were addressing a 
 servant. "I am prepared to give you a check for 
 a certain sum in advance, with a promise of a still 
 greater amount after our ordinance passes the Coun- 
 cil. But don't hit us too Hard, for there are others 
 besides yourself." 
 
 The color fled from Crissey's cheeks, and there
 
 A MISCALCULATION 125 
 
 was a dangerous light in his eye. He put his silk 
 hat on his head and rose to his feet. 
 
 "I thought you wished to see me on business," 
 he said, controlling his voice admirably, save for a 
 'high note at the end of the sentence. "Good day, 
 sir." 
 
 He walked toward the door, but just before he 
 opened it he was seized with uncontrollable rage. 
 
 "If this interview had occurred in my office, sir," 
 he said, turning toward the Magnate and shaking 
 his fist at him, "I should have kicked you down- 
 stairs you damned scoundrel!" And he was 
 gone. 
 
 "You think you're a rising man," shouted Mur- 
 chison at the closed door through which the burly 
 form Had just disappeared. "We'll see how fast 
 you'll rise ! You sanctimonious idiot,, you !"
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 CULTURE IN A FLAT 
 
 The Chapins took a flat of six rooms on George 
 Avenue, near the Lake. There are few flats in this 
 locality of the North Side, but Harry, from the 
 nature of his business, was posted regarding op- 
 portunities "snaps" he called them. A German 
 woman, a divorcee of three years' standing, owned 
 the building, which, with another property in the 
 neighborhood, represented the price of her liberty. 
 The proprietor lived on the ground floor with her 
 son, who played the violin and did something or 
 other at the Board of Trade. Harry and his wife 
 occupied the middle flat, and the Roth family the 
 upper. Victor Roth was a bookkeeper in Murchi- 
 son's office, and it was through him that the Mag- 
 nate learned who Nellie was. Thus do the ro- 
 mances of this work-a-day, scheming, wicked, good 
 old world of ours work themselves out. Happy 
 the man who with simple faith can see the hand 
 of a wise and benevolent God controlling the threads 
 of all our various destinies ! 
 126
 
 CULTURE IN A FLAT 127 
 
 Roth was a fat, blue-eyed German, quiet and in- 
 dustrious. He was an uxorious husband, who 
 never made a mistake in his accounts, and whose 
 fat, pink hand traced most beautiful chirography. 
 He was haunted by a servile fear, for his family's 
 sake, lest he lose his position. All day, while at 
 work, he saw behind his ledger the faces of his wife, 
 his beautiful daughter, and his two babies, as plain- 
 ly as though they were represented in a photo- 
 graphic group upon his desk. He hastened home 
 as soon as the day was done, kissed his wife, and 
 caught his youngest baby to his breast. He could 
 often be seen on George Avenue wheeling a baby 
 carriage up and down. 
 
 Mrs. Roth's father lived with the family, an old 
 German who played the organ in a church and fished 
 in the Lake. Evalina, the sixteen-year-old girl, was 
 keeping company with a nice young man from 
 Evanston, who appeared regularly every Sunday 
 night. Mrs. RotK, who had been a dressmaker be- 
 fore she became a wife, managed to keep Evalina 
 dressed nicely, even stylishly. The girl had a slen- 
 der figure, flaxen hair, the features of a Dresden 
 china doll, and very blue eyes. She wore big hats 
 of the Gainsborough type, and affected a long curl 
 which dangled over her right shoulder. SKe was 
 not musical, but she practised the latest or most
 
 128 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 popular piece all the week that she might play it 
 on Sunday night to her young man. When prac- 
 tising she always made the same mistake at the same 
 place, and then commenced again at the beginning. 
 Harry, who had a musical ear, listened with amuse- 
 ment to Evalina during the joyous days of his 
 honeymoon. On Sunday nights, when Evalina 
 played the piece of the week to her beau, she made 
 the mistake as usual, but kept right on to the end. 
 "The Spanish Serenade" from "Arizona," "The 
 Fox Hunter's March" and "The Intermezzo" from 
 the "Cavalleria Rusticana," were her favorites about 
 the time when the Chapins moved into the neighbor- 
 hood. 
 
 Harry's days began immediately to assume a 
 marked sameness as soon as he settled down. He 
 was awakened every morning by hearing the rat- 
 tling of milk bottles in a rack ; at which sound Mrs. 
 Roth jumped upon the floor above his head with a 
 thump that sounded as though some heavy body had 
 fallen from a height, and ran out toward the kitchen, 
 shaking the entire house at every step. Somebody 
 had once stolen her milk. Then the neighbor on the 
 side toward the Lake, a wealthy grocer who lived in 
 his own house, called his Danish hound, which the 
 hired girl had turned out of doors a few minutes 
 before. "Here, Beaut ! Here, Beaut !" he shouted,
 
 CULTURE IN A FLAT 129 
 
 the "Here" in a cracked falsetto, the "Beaut" in a 
 deep gutteral. A few moments later the grocer's 
 wife called her little boy, a very early riser, into 
 the house to have his face washed. "Joey Joey " 
 she cried, dwelling long on the last syllable a cry 
 like that of a bird. Soon after, the Scully boys, 
 four in number, burst noisily into the street, and 
 turned their three dogs loose from the barn. The 
 consequent barking and shouting indicated that it 
 was seven o'clock in the morning and that the day 
 had actually begun. 
 
 Then Harry rose and began to dress, and Nel- 
 lie, stepping into a pair of slippers and donning a 
 warm red kimono which had replaced the faded 
 blue garment of the lodging-house, went out and 
 made the coffee. She looked very attractive in her 
 partial dishabille, with her great mass of red-gold 
 hair tumbled about her face ; and Harry drank the 
 pale, tasteless coffee which she concocted with per- 
 fect contentment. They had been married in June, 
 and this was the first of September. A woman does 
 not allow herself to get off her guard as to her per- 
 sonal appearance in a man's eyes at three months' 
 living with him ; neither does he begin to detect the 
 flat taste in Her coffee. With love for cream, any 
 coffee is good. 
 
 Immediately after breakfast Harry kissed his
 
 130 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 wife and went up the shady street to the Evanston 
 Avenue car, with fifty cents in his pocket, ten for 
 car fare and the rest for a bakery lunch. He 
 whistled the latest "coon" song as he went. At 
 night he hurried home, to partake of fried steak or 
 chops, a cup of tea, and a piece of bakery pie. If 
 Nellie had been detained too long at her French 
 lesson, she bought something cold at the convenient 
 delicatessen. For Nellie's yearning to cultivate her 
 mind had brooked no delay. She had immediately 
 joined a French class that convened afternoons at 
 the Newberry Library ; and she had promised al- 
 ready to join the Garden City Club, an organization 
 of women that met twice a month at tKe Masonic 
 Temple, and discussed matters of art, literature, 
 psychology, travel, politics, religion, arcKseology and 
 other subjects. Nellie knew one of the members of 
 this club, and through her had obtained an invita- 
 tion to join. She had also taken up Browning, 
 Ibsen and Maeterlinck, and was industriously stor- 
 ing her mind with" many detached sayings which 
 seemed to Her bright or profound, that she might 
 use them in conversation as soon as she got fairly 
 launched in the world of wit and progress. 
 
 Harry was extremely proud of the FrencK les- 
 sons, and the fried steak in his own house tasted
 
 CULTURE IN A FLAT 131 
 
 delicious to him a fact which proves that love is 
 palateless as well as blind, for in his pre nuptial 
 days Harry had been fond of camembert cheese, 
 English chops and Ma'am Galli's spaghetti. 
 
 The Chapins' flat, for which they paid thirty-five 
 dollars a month, faced George Avenue. The rooms 
 were small, and the bedroom was dark. The parlor 
 was papered in deep green, with a peacock blue 
 border, and the dining room in dark red a sort of 
 tomato-sauce effect. The furniture had that air 
 of newness about it whicH always attaches to the 
 chattels of newly married couples. All the sets 
 were complete as yet six high-backed chairs in the 
 dining room ; a willow set in the parlor ; four wood- 
 en chairs and a table in the kitchen ; an imitation 
 oak bureau, a white iron bed with brass knobs, and 
 two cane-seated chairs in the bedroom. There was 
 a center table in the parlor, on which Nellie con- 
 spicuously disposed the latest novels -"The Crisis," 
 "TKe Eternal City," "D'ri and I," as well as her 
 "French Course," her Browning, and her Omar 
 Khayyam. A few of Harry's bachelor things were 
 scattered about, and looked alien and ill at ease amid 
 their surroundings. The tottering tobacco table, 
 witK three legs, most constant of all the inanimate 
 friends of his youth, sulked in a dark corner of
 
 132 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 the bedroom, and upon it lay neglected copies of 
 George Ade's "Fables" and "Billy Baxter's Let- 
 ters/' 
 
 On the day wKen Murchison first saw Nellie, she 
 was returning about five o'clock from the French 
 lesson at the Newberry Library. She was stylish- 
 ly attired in a brown tailor-made dress, and wore 
 a shirt-waist Hat, slightly tilted over her fore- 
 head. It was bound with brown tape, was wound 
 about with silk of a lighter brown, and there was a 
 broad quill thrust jauntily across the front. Nellie 
 was with a little bevy of older women, all of whom 
 were talking together about Paris, the Quartier 
 Latin, "Trilby," and the French language. One 
 could hear frequently above the vocal hubbub and 
 the rattle of the car shrieks of, "Oui, oui," "N'est- 
 cc pas?" "Non, non," and "Je crois que oui" hope- 
 lessly pronounced. 
 
 Most of these ladies were well along in life, and 
 several of th'em bore the marks of a laborious youth. 
 Two or three, with huge dictionaries on their 
 laps, were studying "methods," a look of puzzled 
 desperation on their features. The women were 
 all either very fat or very thin, and they gave one 
 the impression of having lived one life and of hav- 
 ing started out upon another. Though' neatly
 
 CULTURE IN A FLAT 133 
 
 dressed for the most part, they seemed somehow 
 to have risen above the feminine love of dress. 
 They served as foils for Nellie's chic and voluptu- 
 ous beauty. Murchison, sitting in a corner of the car 
 with Roth, moistened his thin lips with his tongue 
 as he gazed furtively at her. The Magnate was 
 conversing pleasantly with his man concerning the 
 weather and other inconsequential subjects. It 
 was his policy to be popular witK his employees, and 
 to attach as many of them to him personally as pos- 
 sible. He was really a business genius was Mur- 
 chison, and he knew that one cheerful employee 
 was wortH a dozen who were sullen. He had, more- 
 over, a horror of strikes. 
 
 Roth was trembling with delight. In this af- 
 fability of the great man he saw security in his po- 
 sition and a possible advance of salary. He was 
 aching to get home, give his plump little wife an 
 extra hug, and tell her all about the chance meet- 
 ing which seemed to mean so much to them all. 
 He had already planned a picnic in Lincoln Park 
 for the very next Sunday. The Roths were great 
 picnickers. 
 
 Nellie descended at George Avenue and walked 
 briskly down the shady street. Murchison, com- 
 ing after her with Roth, noticed that she carried
 
 134 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 herself well and that she lifted Her dress gracefully, 
 disclosing a silk petticoat which seemed to whisper 
 of dainty ankles. 
 
 "This is the most beautiful street" in this city," 
 Roth chattered joyously. "My wife and I are very 
 contented. See how beautiful is the view from 
 here." Though he knew English' perfectly and 
 could write it without error, there was an occa- 
 sional twist to his sentences when he talked that 
 betrayed the German. "There are trees the whole 
 length, making a vista, and at the end a bit of the 
 Lake gleams like a mirror. It is just like the coun- 
 try here. Two men own the whole of the street, 
 and they will not sell, so there are few houses on it 
 built. There are many lilacs in front of that house. 
 In the spring they smell sweet. That is a wild 
 grape-vine yonder, growing over a dead tree. See 
 how green and luxuriant it is. And the grapes are 
 good, too. My wife makes jelly of them. We have 
 such sport gathering them! The whole family 
 conies with a basket." 
 
 "That's a fine-looking woman ahead of us," haz- 
 arded Murchison. "Is she a neighbor of yours?" 
 
 "Yes, that's Mrs. Chapin our bride. She lives 
 in the flat below us. We live in the top flat. We 
 have a view of the Lake. You ought to see it from
 
 That's a fine-looking 
 woman ahead of us
 
 CULTURE IN A FLAT 135 
 
 our kitchen window. My wife and I look at it for 
 hours. It has so many expressions as a man as 
 the face of God. On stormy days it is wild and 
 terrible, tumbling, tumbling, as far as the eye can 
 see. When the day is still and tfie sun shines, it 
 smiles as though the whole world were smiling. 
 Our kitchen is a wonderful place, Mr. Murchison. 
 Wunderschon, my wife and I call it. You have 
 also a view of tKe Lake, I believe, Mr. Murchison ?" 
 
 "Yes ; all my front windows look out upon it. 
 I have bought the riparian rights, to prevent any- 
 body from building in front of me and spoiling my 
 view." 
 
 "Ah, then your front rooms are just as pleasant 
 as our kitchen! There is where we live where 
 Mrs. Chapin is just going in. That is my little 
 boy coming to meet me." 
 
 "Ah," said Murchison, "he's a fine little fellow. 
 What does her husband do for a living?" 
 
 "Whose husband? Oh, Harry Chapin. He's 
 connected witK a real estate firm Blodgett and 
 Blodgett. Hello, Fritz! Come on, Fritz! Oop- 
 te-day!" And Roth tossed a flaxen-haired child 
 of three years several times from the walk to tKe 
 length of his arms. 
 
 "What did you bought me, papa; what did you 
 bought me? Did you bought me anything?" in-
 
 136 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 quired the child, trying to reach his tiny hand into 
 his father's side-pocket. 
 
 "He is indeed a fine lad," repeated the Magnate, 
 putting his hand on the boy's head while he glanced 
 at Chapin's front window. "Here, my boy, is ten 
 cents. You can go and buy yourself some candy." 
 
 "What do you say, Fritz ?" prompted Roth, stoop- 
 ing low and whispering in the child's ear. The 
 father was very anxious that Fritz should show his 
 training; but the boy broke away and ran into the 
 hall. 
 
 "Fritz ! Fritz !" called the father. 
 
 "Ah, there's Mrs. Chapin at the window now," 
 observed the Magnate. "She's looking in a book. 
 She's evidently interested in books." 
 
 "I should say so! She is studying French, and 
 she belongs to a woman's literary club The Gar- 
 den City I believe they call it. You see, this is 
 just like a country town out here. We all know 
 everything about each other's business." 
 
 "Well, good night, Mr. Roth," said Murchison. 
 "Give my regards to your good wife." 
 
 This last show of interest was almost more than 
 the simple, kindly-hearted, imaginative Roth could 
 bear. He felt as though God were too good to him. 
 He caught his boy in his arms and bounded up the 
 stairs two steps at a time.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 A STEIN ON THE TABLE 
 
 The first summer of Harry's wedded bliss passed 
 away, and autumn came in a single night. Only 
 last evening there was a merry throng of bathers 
 at the beach near the foot of George Avenue. Roth 
 sat on a bench till ten o'clock watching the ships 
 go by, far out in the Lake. The "Whaleback," the 
 "Virginia," he knew them all by the arrangement 
 of their lights for all that could be seen of them 
 at that hour consisted of lines and clusters of elec- 
 tric lights moving over the face of the waters. He 
 knew where they came from and whither they were 
 going; and he loved, as he smoked his five-cent 
 cigars, to imagine himself and his wife sailing away 
 somewhere together; down the castle-gemmed 
 Rhine, in the sky-blue Mediterranean, starred with 
 islands, along the Dalmatian coast, fringed with 
 white villages. Mr. Roth smoked five-cent cigars 
 with much satisfaction because he had actually 
 brought himself to believe that they were better 
 137
 
 138 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 than the more expensive varieties. He always took 
 his wife with him on his imaginary sailings for the 
 reason that he thought her the most beautiful and 
 desirable woman on earth. He smoked his cigar 
 on summer evenings by the Lake front because the 
 acrid smell set the baby to coughing and waked it 
 up. He would have foregone the luxury entirely, 
 but his wife would not permit th'e sacrifice. 
 
 Only last night the air was sultry and a great, 
 straw-colored harvest moon looked down on a world 
 of fairy waters, of young lovers strolling in the 
 shadow, of murmurings and soft laughter beneath 
 the trees. Only yesterday the toilers in the heart 
 of the great plutonic city were sweltering and gasp- 
 ing in the heat, and the columns of smoke floated 
 to heaven luridly in a yellow glare of sun. To-day 
 men walking on the streets felt a ring of cold about 
 their ankles above their low shoes, and wondered if 
 their last year's light overcoats would do. The 
 chariots of a great wind had swept across the Lake 
 during the night, with much thundering of onward 
 driven waves; and the slanting lances of the rain 
 fell for hours. The rafts and logs of tfie swim- 
 mers had been tossed wantonly ashore, and some of 
 the benches nearest the beach' were beaten into 
 kindling wood. 
 
 Harry and Roth came home on tKe same car
 
 A STEIN ON THE TABLE 139 
 
 and walked together from the barns through a 
 light, silvery drizzle. The men, though as differ- 
 ent mentally as it is possible for two men to be, were 
 fast friends. Their hearts and their love of human 
 companionship was their point of contact. So it 
 is possible for real friendship to exist between peo- 
 ple who do not speak the same language. 
 
 "Well, we'll have to get our fall overcoats out 
 of hock!" laughed Harry. 
 
 "Is your overcoat in pawn?" asked Roth, sym- 
 pathetically. "Perhaps I could loan you some or 
 a part for a few days. I will ask my wife." 
 
 "No, thanks," replied Harry. "I was only jok- 
 ing. I meant that summer is actually over at last. 
 Isn't that a lonely prospect, though?" he asked, 
 looking in at the gate of a summer garden. "They'll 
 hardly do any more business this year." 
 
 Each table was tipped, with one end resting on 
 a chair. The chairs were grouped about the tables 
 all slantingly, so that the rain should run off from 
 their seats. The tawdry curtain was taken down, 
 disclosing a bare and cheerless stage. A few yel- 
 low leaves, which had fallen from one of the trees 
 that justified the name of "garden," were brushed 
 into a wet, dank heap. The place looked as though 
 a wind had swept through it, had tipped up the fur- 
 niture, and torn away the curtain.
 
 i 4 o THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 "I never bring my wife and family to this place," 
 observed Roth; "it is not quite respectable." 
 
 "I haven't been to a summer garden since I was 
 married," said Harry, with an almost imperceptible 
 sigh. "She does not care for such things. She 
 does not think they improve the mind. I used to 
 go to the Bismarck a good deal before I was mar- 
 ried, and I even came here once in a while. Josey 
 Gregory used to sing here. She was a peach 
 funnier than a goat. Ever hear her sing 'Georgie, 
 Georgia, Next Time You Drink, You'll Drink with 
 Me'?" 
 
 "N no, I don't believe I ever have." 
 
 "You ought to hear her. But maybe you don't 
 enjoy that sort of thing. I do, when I'm tired 
 sort of rests a man. But you can't get out of a 
 place like this without spending a dollar or two. 
 You're sure to meet some one you know, and he'll 
 set 'em up, and then you feel like a beat if you don't 
 ask him to take something, and every flip out of 
 the box means a quarter. When a man's married 
 he must drop all that. He owes it to his wife, too." 
 
 "Then he just begins to enjoy life, is it not so?" 
 cried Roth. "For he and his wife can enjoy things 
 together, and he takes double pleasure in knowing 
 that she is having a good time." 
 
 As they passed down George Avenue, the Ger-
 
 A STEIN ON THE TABLE 141 
 
 man stooped and picked up a dead butterfly. 
 "Look," he cried ; "here is the surest sign that sum- 
 mer is over. The life of these little creatures with 
 summer time ends. You will see them flitting 
 about for several days longer, slower, slower every 
 day, as the life of summer itself ebbs. The first 
 sharp frost will kill them, all that are left alive. 
 See how this one has the true autumn tints in his 
 wings ! Above is a dull red, as though the embers 
 of a dying fire were glowing through smoke. And 
 here, on the under side, his wings are the dead 
 golden hue of the sky just after sunset and do 
 not these bars look like tHe limbs of a leafless tree 
 standing against a patch of sky?" 
 
 "You ought to be a poet !" laughed Harry. "You 
 talk like a book that my wife was reading from the 
 other evening." 
 
 "I have some poems written," said Mr. RotK 
 modestly, "but they are mere nothings. If I could 
 write all I feel, perhaps they would be better. Did 
 you hear the tree-toads last night?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Well then, you will not be likely to hear them 
 again this year. They are the last chorus of sum- 
 mer. You will hear the silver chirp of a cricket 
 here and there for several days, perhaps weeks 
 longer. When the white aspens in the park twinkle
 
 142 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD, 
 
 in the cool breezes, when greenish-yellow leaves be- 
 gin to drift and swirl on the walks, and lone but- 
 terflies, whose mates are dead, wander through the 
 gray air, then you feel that summer is over and 
 gone. Then in your heart you a strange sadness 
 feel, a faint longing as for a beautiful clime or 
 country that you have loved and to which you must 
 say farewell. For summer and winter, those are 
 two different countries, are they not?" 
 
 "I should say that there's difference enough 
 here between summer and winter," assented Harry. 
 "One doesn't have to be a poet to see that." 
 
 They ran up the stairs together, and Harry found 
 a note from Nellie pinned to his door. It read : 
 
 "Dear Harry, we are to have a lecture on French 
 literature this afternoon, in the French language, 
 by Professor Max Hennequin, of Paris, and after 
 that we are all to take tea at Mrs. Balcom's. Dur- 
 ing tea nothing but French will be spoken, and the 
 professor will be with us. You will find twenty- 
 five cents in the vase on the mantel, and you had 
 better go down to that nice little restaurant oppo- 
 site the Lessing and get your supper. Be a good 
 boy. I'll be home early. 
 
 "Yours affectionately, 
 
 "NELLIE."
 
 A STEIN ON THE TABLE 143 
 
 "I say, old man, listen to this !" Harry cried after 
 Roth. "Isn't my wife right in it?" and the proud 
 husband read the letter to the German. 
 
 "Mrs. Chapin is indeed an intellectual woman," 
 affirmed Roth with conviction, "and you have just 
 cause to be proud of her. And now you must come 
 up to supper witK us." 
 
 Harry did not demur. He felt a little lonely, 
 and the prospect of eating with tKat loving and 
 cheerful family appealed to him. Besides, he had 
 formed a great liking for Fritz. 
 
 "Mama, I have brought Mr. Chapin up to sup- 
 per with me," said Roth, opening the door. 
 
 There was a loud shout in the kitchen of, "Oh, 
 papa! Ho, papa!" And an astonishing clatter, as 
 Fritz poured an armful of assorted playthings on 
 the floor. Then he came running down the hall, 
 shouting, "What did you bought, papa? What 
 did you bought me?" His tiny feet made an al- 
 ternate clatter and thud on the bare floor, showing 
 plainly that he had one shoe on and one shoe off. 
 
 When he burst into the room he produced the 
 feeling of surprise that so small a person could 
 make so much noise. He was a beautiful, sturdy 
 little fellow, with flaxen hair, big blue eyes, and the 
 face of a fat cherub. He wore little blue trousers, 
 reaching to the knees and buttoned to a red waist.
 
 144 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 Both His chubby legs were bare, for, though he 
 wore his right shoe, the stocking had come loose 
 and fallen down over it. 
 
 "What did you bought me?" he repeated as his 
 father picked him up. 
 
 "His father spoils him," said Mrs. Roth, who, 
 after nodding genially to Harry, hurriedly gathered 
 up two or three articles that tended to make the 
 room look untidy and tossed them into the sleeping 
 room. "He brings him something home nearly 
 every night." 
 
 SHe was a plump little woman, with an abundance 
 of soft brown hair. Her face was somehow attrac- 
 tive, despite the fact that it was badly pock-marked. 
 The features were those of the better type of Aus- 
 trian peasant brow broad and low, lips and nose 
 rather thick. She wore a gray dress that did not 
 fit her very well, and her form was such as Byron 
 probably means when he says "a dumpy woman." 
 Her voice was sweet as a lullaby, and, as Harry soon 
 learned, she spoke but seldom. Her eyes were hazel 
 hy and tender those of a loved and loving 
 woman. 
 
 RotK gave Fritz a glass marble, too big for the 
 boy to get in his mouth. Then he seized his wife 
 about the waist, grunting playfully as though he
 
 A STEIN ON THE TABLE 145 
 
 meant to squeeze her to death, and kissed her 
 squarely on the lips. 
 
 "Haven't you got any sense ?" she giggled, blush- 
 ing like a girl. 
 
 "Well, sit down, Mr. Chapin," said Roth. "It's 
 just as cheap as standing. Whew, I have an appe- 
 tite like one dog. Frieda, see if there's two bottles 
 of German champagne on the ice." 
 
 "Let I go wiv you, mama. Let I go wiv you," 
 cried Fritz, seizing his mother's dress and following 
 in her wake. A moment later Ke returned shouting, 
 "There's free, four, six, eight bottlings." 
 
 "Oh, you little rascal!" laughed Roth. "You 
 have not much idea given. I think I'll have to go 
 and see for myself. Come out into the kitchen, 
 Mr. Chapin, and see the view from our window 
 there. We are very lucky to have this top flat be- 
 cause the next House doesn't shut off our view." 
 
 Mrs. Roth stood at the kitchen table, with her 
 sleeves rolled up, making a potato salad. Her arms 
 were round and pretty. Harry thought of one 
 night at Mrs. Hutchins' when He and Nellie made 
 potato salad together, and that strange thrill went 
 through him again which he had felt at the touch 
 of the red-gold hair upon his cheek. He looked at 
 little Fritz standing on a ch'air beside Mrs. Roth
 
 I 4 6 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 and trying to get his chubby hands into the salad, 
 and a great longing for children, for a family of his 
 own, came over him. 
 
 "See wliat a full sweep of the Lake we get from 
 this window," said Roth. "Down town now, the 
 great buildings are all enveloped in a dim leaden 
 pall, and the black, tumbled clouds from the sky 
 come down and mingle with the smoke that from 
 the city rises. TKe buildings look like ghosts of 
 buildings, formed out of the mist and smoke so 
 dark gray they are, so like in color to the day. But 
 here is the clean Lake and the slanting rain. And 
 see, the evening sun gleams through, and all the lead 
 to silver turns. The Lake and the sky mingle to- 
 gether in a soft mist out yonder, and if you watch, 
 sometimes you can see a sailing vessel melt into it 
 and so disappear. There, there goes one now! 
 Wouldn't you like to take your wife and sail away 
 on it, away, away? Come on, mem S chats!" 
 
 "My wife don't like the Lake for a cent," said 
 Harry. "It makes her sea-sick. We haven't been 
 over to St. Joe since we were married." 
 
 "Maybe Mr. Chapin can't eat what we've got," 
 observed Mrs. Roth. "Soup, frankfurters and po- 
 tato salad, and home-made strudel" 
 
 "Try me and see !" cried Harry. "I don't think 
 I shall back away from that bill of fare."
 
 A STEIN ON THE TABLE 147 
 
 "Why, that's a meal for tKe kaiser !" cried RotH. 
 
 Harry enjoyed that dinner. Grandpa Roth and 
 Evalina came in on time, and they were seven, all 
 told, counting the baby, who woke up and was 
 wheeled into the dining room in its carriage. Evalina 
 looked very chic and American, and her curl gave 
 her a coquettish air. The old man was chiefly re- 
 markable for his vast amount of gray, disheveled 
 hair, which seemed to grow with equal profusion 
 on his face and his head. He had mastered the 
 English language fairly well with the exception of 
 the verb. He persisted in using the past tense with 
 such auxiliaries as did. "Didn't I told you so?" was 
 a favorite expression of his. He pulled the baby car- 
 riage around near him, where he could reach it witH 
 his hand and move it to and fro if the little one 
 showed any signs of uneasiness. He devoted much 
 of his time during the dinner to amusing the baby. 
 
 "That's grandpa's baby," observed Evalina. "He 
 named it himself and won't hardly let anybody else 
 look at it." 
 
 "What did you call it?" Harry asked the old man. 
 
 "Bismarck Goethe," replied grandpa proudly. 
 "Bismarck Goethe Roth, after the two greatest men 
 that ever lived !" 
 
 "It's a splendid name," agreed Harry. "He can't 
 help making his mark with a handle like that."
 
 I 4 8 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 "There, didn't I told you so ? You see what this 
 gentleman thinks ?" 
 
 "It's too absurd," giggled Evalina. "I'm glad you 
 didn't name me. I wonder what ridiculous combi- 
 nation you'd have found for me?" 
 
 "I wouldn't take the trouble to name a girl," re- 
 plied the old man disdainfully. "I don't have to," 
 he added proudly. 
 
 "You's sittin' in a high chair, and I'se sittin' 
 in a high chair, just like a 'zackly as you," observed 
 Fritz inconsequentially. 
 
 "What do you eat?" asked Harry. "Does mama 
 give you sausage?" 
 
 "Oh, he eats everything," replied Mrs. Roth. 
 "This is his dinner that I am fixing now. Here, 
 papa, pass Fritz his dinner." 
 
 "Hoo, such a big much, such a big much !" cried 
 Fritz, delightedly. And, taking his spoon, he care- 
 fully separated the different items on his plate. 
 
 "Don't do that, Fritz," commanded his father. 
 "What a naughty trick that is. You'll push all your 
 food on to the table. The potato doesn't hurt the 
 sausage." 
 
 Fritz turned to Harry chanting: "Pittayters 
 don't hurt sausage, sausage don't hurt beans, beans 
 don't hurt pittayters " Then he stopped and stu- 
 died the plate. Being unable to master further the
 
 A STEIN ON THE TABLE 149 
 
 subject of mathematical combinations, he compro- 
 mised by stuffing an enormous spoonful of potato 
 salad into his mouth. 
 
 Harry laughed immoderately. "He's as bright 
 as a dollar !" he cried. 
 
 After dinner Fritz stood upon the step of his 
 high chair and invited Harry, "Feel if my tum- 
 mick's full." Harry complied, and announced that 
 it was as full as a tick. 
 
 "That's a ceremony that his grandfather usually 
 performs," ventured Evalina. 
 
 After supper there was music in the front par- 
 lor. Roth sang two or three sentimental German 
 songs, and responded to an encore with "Just 3L 
 Song at Twilight." The old man, who was a genu- 
 ine musician, played Schubert's serenade exquisitely, 
 and Mendelssohn's "Spring Song." 
 
 About ten o'clock Harry heard Nellie come in, 
 and at the invitation of the entire Roth family, he 
 ran down to invite her up. Her cheeks were flushed 
 with excitement and with exercise, and Harry 
 thought he had never seen her looking more beauti- 
 ful. She positively refused to go up to tKe Roths', 
 however. 
 
 "They're common people," she said, taking off 
 her hat and thrusting the long pin through' it. 
 "There's nothing to be learned from them. And
 
 1 50 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 what a lot of children they have! That woman 
 would have made a good Eve. She's capable of 
 being the mother of the whole Human family." 
 
 Harry thought this remark very bright, but it 
 jarred upon him. 
 
 Fortunately, he did not know that Nellie had 
 heard a vicious woman say the same thing that very 
 afternoon, a propos of an acquaintance who had 
 recently become a mother.
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 AT THE PIERIAN SPRING 
 
 By the time Nellie was married two years she 
 became a prominent member of the Garden City 
 Club; and she even read two papers before that 
 strenuous body, one on "Kipling Compared with 
 Macaulay as a Writer of Ballads," and another on 
 "The Art and Literature of Ancient Athens." She 
 devoted a month to the preparation of the second 
 paper, and won much praise for the thoroughness 
 with which she covered the field. It was during 
 this month that both she and Harry became con- 
 vinced of the necessity of hiring a domestic. This 
 was the epoch, too, of Ker career when she first 
 contracted the habit of wearing a long lead pencil 
 stuck through her chignon. In these two years Nel- 
 lie grew so brilliant that her admirers occasionally 
 wondered how such an intellectual woman ever came 
 to marry so ordinary a person as Chapin. 
 
 It was Nellie who suggested the idea of giving a 
 "Poets' Night" at the club. After considerable cor-
 
 1 52 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 respondence, for Nellie had arisen to the dignity 
 of secretary, five men and a woman who had act- 
 ually published volumes of verse agreed to appear 
 and read from their writings. When the evening 
 arrived an unusually large throng gathered in the 
 lodge room hired by the club. For at least thirty 
 minutes before eight o'clock the lifts of the Masonic 
 Temple were shooting loads of humanity up through 
 their long shafts to the twelfth floor, and the ladies 
 of the club were crowding the ante-room, eager to 
 receive the complaisant poets and to overwhelm 
 them with welcome and adulation. Among these 
 was Nellie, tall and gracious. 
 
 Excitement added color to her cheeks, but the ner- 
 vousness of the first days of club life had given place 
 to the queenly dignity and the majestic poses of the 
 cloak model. She profited unconsciously by this 
 training, though that dreadful period was to her 
 now little more than an unpleasant dream. 
 
 Poor Carrie Vinne had long ago been made to 
 feel that she belonged to a past which Nellie wished 
 to forget. 
 
 At ten minutes past eight every seat in the club 
 room was filled, as well as the benches along the 
 wall. The Madam President sat at a desk, nervous- 
 ly fingering the handle of a gavel, and Nellie, proud 
 and confident, was by her side. The poets, safety
 
 AT THE PIERIAN SPRING 153 
 
 corralled, sat in a line on a bench in front of the 
 platform, and a smile of triumph overspread the 
 Madam President's features as she gazed fondly 
 down upon them. At ten minutes past eight the 
 lady looked at her watch and tapped sharply on 
 the desk. She arose, and announced in a clear busi- 
 ness-like tone : 
 
 "The meeting will now come to order. We will 
 wait no longer for our famous poet, Mr. Bruce Rye, 
 who promised to be with us this evening. Doubt- 
 less Mr. Rye is at this moment in the throes of 
 composition is writing out one of those sublime 
 masterpieces which have made his name a house- 
 hold word wherever the English language is spoken, 
 and has forgotten his promise to be with' us. In 
 any case we must excuse him, for we all know that 
 poets are not like us common mortals and must not 
 be held accountable for their actions. [Ripples of 
 laughter and much craning of necks to see if the 
 corralled poets were also laughing.] But there 
 is no reason why this audience should be kept wait- 
 ing longer. We have with us to-night an aggrega- 
 tion of genius such as Has never before appeared 
 under one roof in America. [More craning of 
 necks to see if any of the poets were blushing. Sup- 
 pressed applause.] This is a proud night for the 
 Garden City Club. No other club in the West has
 
 154 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 ever offered such a feast of reason, such a flow of 
 soul, as awaits this club to-night and its distin- 
 guished guests for I see in the audience some of 
 the most distinguished citizens of this city." 
 
 Every one present not a member looked con- 
 scious. There was a rustling and a scraping of 
 feet as people in the front rows looked over their 
 shoulders. Many eyes were focused upon Mr. 
 Philip Murchison, who was a frequent guest, and 
 was present upon this red-letter evening. 
 
 "But I will not keep you waiting longer than is 
 necessary. The secretary will read the minutes of 
 the last meeting." The Madam President sat down. 
 She was a plump, dark woman, fifty years of age, 
 dressed in black. Very short white gloves con- 
 stricted her fat, red wrists just above the base of 
 the thumb, as though strangling them. She had 
 snapping black eyes, and she spoke with much con- 
 fidence and equal fluency. 
 
 Nellie arose, and a faint whisper, tributary to 
 her beauty, was heard in different parts of the 
 room. Women were saying : "Isn't she beautiful ?" 
 
 "Just lovely !" 
 
 "Such a stately creature!" 
 
 "What a magnificent figure !" 
 
 Two pairs of eyes were fixed upon her face so 
 intently that she did not dare look up from Her paper
 
 AT THE PIERIAN SPRING 155 
 
 for fear of losing her place. They belonged to two 
 men who were inexpressibly bored by the intellectual 
 inducements of the club, but who came there fre- 
 quently just to see Nellie. These were Mr. Philip 
 Murchison, Magnate, and Mr. Gifford Dare, artist. 
 The latter had but recently made her acquaintance, 
 and the former had not as yet hit upon any plan for 
 seeing her elsewhere. 
 
 "Rooms of the Garden City Club, December 
 seventh, nineteen hundred," read Nellie. "Madam 
 President in the chair. The meeting was called to 
 order at eight sharp. Minutes of the preceding meet- 
 ing were read and approved. The Madam President 
 then introduced Mr. Charles Denton, who enter- 
 tained the club and its guests with an amusing ac- 
 count of his recent trip up the Nile River, in Egypt. 
 Mrs. Susan Phenix moved that the thanks of this 
 club be extended to Mr. Denton for his courtesy in 
 appearing before this club and giving it a very 
 pleasant and instructive evening. Motion seconded 
 and carried. There being no other business, the. 
 session adjourned at nine fifteen." 
 
 "If there are no objections the minutes will stand 
 approved," said the Madam President. No one 
 seeming to have the least objection, she declared 
 them so approved. 
 
 "And now," she continued, taking a deep breatH
 
 156 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 and throwing her head back a little, "I have the 
 honor of introducing to you, ladies and gentlemen, 
 our great epic poet, Mr. Walter Clancy, whose 
 name is as familiar in England as it is in America. 
 Mr. Clancy has kindly consented to favor us with 
 a few of the epics from his latest volume of verse, 
 entitled The Echoing Streets.' " 
 
 Nellie took advantage of the expectant ripple of 
 applause following this announcement to glide into 
 the audience, that she might face the geniuses as 
 they read or recited, and that she might not lose the 
 flashes of soul that would be sure to speak in their 
 eyes and upon their countenances. In this vigilance 
 she was joined by all the other ladies in the room, 
 all grimly determined that not the least manifesta- 
 tion of soul should escape. It was a veritable soul 
 hunt. 
 
 Mr. Clancy was a stoutish man, whose baldness 
 gave the effect of an extremely high, intellectual 
 forehead. His hair grew on each side of a white 
 channel, like grass on the banks of a river. A few 
 long locks, combed across for the purpose of inno- 
 cent deception, suggested to the imaginative mind 
 trees fallen from bank to bank. He laid his book 
 on the high table provided, upon which he rested 
 one hand. The other hand he set on his thigh, 
 the arm akimbo, and he threw his right leg across
 
 AT THE PIERIAN SPRING 157 
 
 his left, so that the right foot stood perpendicularly 
 upon the toes. His whole attitude expressed con- 
 fidence. 
 
 : The ladies did not fail to notice that he had large 
 expressive eyes. One member who sat on the front 
 bench gave audible voice to her thoughts in a run- 
 ning series of ejaculations. She was a fat woman, 
 with a round face, and eyes of the variety familiarly 
 known as "pop." A disproportionate amount of 
 white gave them a bulging appearance, and she had 
 a startling way of jerking them about in her head 
 as though they were worked by means of springs. 
 At every ocular jerk she smiled appreciatively, as 
 though she had espied a new genius. 
 
 Mr. Clancy was a socialistic poet, who wrote 
 really fine verses inspired by sympathy for the poor 
 and the erring. He was very much in earnest, and 
 as his sonorous tones rang through the room this 
 lady's voice could be distinctly heard in running 
 comment : 
 
 "There's beauty !" "There's sympathy !" "There's 
 pathos !" "There's soul !" 
 
 After Mr. Clancy had finished, the president arose 
 and said: "It is not necessary to make any com- 
 ment upon Mr. Clancy's performance. It speaks 
 for itself. And now I have the honor and pleasure 
 of introducing to you a man whose name is as well
 
 I 5 8 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 known in America and England as that of Thomas 
 Hood or John G. Saxe. Mr. William Fish will next 
 favor us. Mr. Fish should really have come a little 
 later on the program. I put him farther down that 
 we might enjoy longer the pleasures of anticipation, 
 but hie has begged me to make this change, as he 
 has to catch a train." 
 
 THe gentleman in question was not sitting on 
 the seat with the other celebrities. He had re- 
 mained back in the audience, and as he advanced he 
 made great show of stumbling several times. When 
 he at last stepped upon the stage he remarked, "I 
 caught several trains just now," and waited a mo- 
 ment to see if any explanation were necessary. To 
 his great satisfaction, a ripple of laughter greeted 
 the joke, which was an old stand-by of his ; and the 
 lady on the front seat exclaimed : 
 
 "There's spontaneity !" 
 
 Mr. Fish was evidently a humorist. He was a 
 jolly little man with a red face. He told several 
 funny stories, and recited two poems in negro dia- 
 lect. The first, entitled 'To' Ole Jim," was pa- 
 thetic; and the second, "When the Persimmon's 
 Ripe," was of lighter character, and began : 
 
 Ole marster's feelin' mighty good, 
 Got the autumn in he blood,
 
 AT THE PIERIAN SPRING 159 
 
 Standin' straight an' walkin' roun' 
 Laik he's foot don' tech de groun': 
 Laik de air he drinkin' in 
 Fotch his boyhood back agin; 
 
 'An' I know he been to see 
 Dot air ole persimmon tree 
 Whar de sweet persimmons grow 
 As dcy used ter, long ago. 
 Oh, dese ole eyes full of tears, 
 Thinkin' of dose blessed years! 
 
 Then followed a pathetic reference to the fact 
 that the two boys, white and black, used to forget 
 the color line while gathering persimmons ; and that 
 the sight of the ripe fruit on the tree brought 
 back a flitting feeling of youth to the master, mani- 
 fested chiefly by the familiar tone in which he 
 cried, "Mose, dem persimmons gittin' ripe !" 
 
 This would have been a somewhat original poem 
 had not the author landed master and man, pro- 
 phetically, in Heaven, with the reflection that per- 
 simmons will be ripe all tKe year round there, and 
 the color line forgotten forever. The member upon 
 the front seat blew her nose, and ejaculated, 
 "There's pathos; there's delicacy!" and there was a 
 great buzzing of admiration all over the house. 
 
 Mr. Fish was the hit of the evening, and he re-
 
 160 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 sponded so willingly to repeated requests to keep 
 the platform that the other lions became uneasy 
 and began to growl under their breaths. The 
 Madam President gave a deep sigh as she rose to 
 her feet, as though she were inhaling the volatilized 
 soul with which she felt the room to be pervaded. 
 
 "I am glad to-night," she cried, "that I live in 
 this city! Not in New York, Paris, or London, 
 but right here !" This sentiment was greeted with 
 a storm of applause. 
 
 "What other city of the world can boast of a 
 Clancy, a Fish, a Winston, a Hudson, a Feehan? 
 In what other club of the world except the Garden 
 City is- it possible to get all this array of genius 
 together? I am sometimes laughed at when I say 
 that we have fourteen poets as members of this club. 
 Let people come and see for themselves. We can 
 produce them. And, now, ladies and gentlemen, 
 we are sorry that Mr. FisK has finished, but we 
 shall be glad to have Mr. Winston begin. He is the 
 local James Whitcomb Riley, though his name 
 is known better across the water than here," and 
 she gave a wide sweep with' her arm, inclusive of 
 that indefinite region where so many reputations 
 are most flourishing, "across the water." 
 
 The poet Winston, whose fame grazed at the 
 end of so long a tether, was a large, ungainly man,
 
 AT THE PIERIAN SPRING 161 
 
 well into the sixties. His hair and beard were 
 black, his eyebrows hoary and shaggy. He had a 
 way of lowering his head and of looking upward, as 
 if he were peering at the tips of his eyebrows while 
 he talked. It took him several minutes to extricate 
 his glasses and his manuscript from the depths of 
 his pocket. 
 
 His principal contribution related to an arch 
 that had been erected in a Southern city to a hero 
 of the Spanish-American war. Mr. Winston ex- 
 plained at great length how he had received the in- 
 spiration for this poem. During a recent journey 
 he had seen this arch and been struck with its beauty 
 and the sentiment which had prompted its erection. 
 Then he drifted off into a long homily on the beau- 
 ties of patriotism, and an incidental panegyric of the 
 flag, and a statement of his willingness to lay down 
 his life for the same, old as he was. The lady mem- 
 ber in front ejaculated, "There's nobility!" and an 
 aged and red-faced doctor in the midst of the au- 
 dience began to snore loudly. 
 
 "Suddenly the thought occurred to me," cried 
 Mr. Winston, "that there were seven soldiers with 
 this officer. Why were not their names also on the 
 arch ? I became inspired. I sat down on a bench 
 in front of a little hotel and dashed off the lines 
 .which I am about to read you to-night."
 
 162 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 And he began. The ballad was long, for it con- 
 tained a minute description of the monument, and 
 an account of the glorious deed which it commem- 
 orated. 
 
 'And I gazed at that arch which lifted high 
 The name of one man to heaven, 
 'And I said, "It is well, but where, oh where, 
 Are the names of the other seven?" 
 
 Mr. Winston concluded with a description of an- 
 other arch in heaven, which should have room also 
 for the names of the other seven. 
 
 "Mr. Winston is one of our fourteen poets," ex- 
 plained the Madam President. "We have thirteen 
 more just like him. Like him, that is, in genius, 
 but differing from him in style. Mrs. Ella Hudson, 
 our great mystical poet, will now read us one of 
 Her effusions. Mrs. Hudson, who, I am happy and 
 proud to say, is a member of this club, has been 
 called by some the Sappho, by others the Mrs. 
 Browning, by others the Ella Wheeler Wilcox, of 
 our city. I compare her to Mrs. Browning, while 
 she herself thinks her work resembles more that of 
 Mr. Browning. Mrs. Hudson." 
 
 The lady's effusion was long, gruesome, and part- 
 ly unconscious o^ meter. It described a night
 
 AT THE PIERIAN SPRING 163 
 
 spent by a woman beside the corpse of the man she 
 loved. Many of the stanzas were devoted to specu- 
 lations as to whether or not the spirit was in the 
 room. "And if not," sighed the poetess, "if he be 
 in regions far and fair, can he see my sorrow 
 there? 
 
 The concluding seven or eight stanzas discussed 
 the probability of catching the spirit if it were flit- 
 ting from star to star. TKe poem concluded with 
 the line 
 
 Will I meet him, anywhere? 
 
 The " him" and the "wKere" were both" uttered 
 with the raising reflection, and the poetess stood 
 for some seconds after the last word, with faded blue 
 eyes fixed upon the northeast corner of the room, 
 above the heads of the audience. One unpoetic soul 
 turned and gazed over her shoulder in the same 
 direction as though' she expected to see a cobweb 
 there. 
 
 Mrs. Hudson wore a white lace cap tied under her 
 chin, making her resemble some old print of Queen 
 Clotilda. The effect of her reading was somewhat 
 marred by the prodigious snoring of th'e red-faced 
 doctor, whom an indignant member poked in the 
 ribs from time to time, causing him to break off
 
 164 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 with startled snorts. Once he grumbled, "Leave 
 me alone, Mary; I'm not asleep." Mary was the 
 name of his wife, who was not present. 
 
 "And now," said the Madam President, "I'll not 
 say that we have saved the dessert for the last, for 
 in this feast all has been dessert." 
 
 "Isn't she perfectly lovely?" said one member to 
 another in a stage whisper. 
 
 "There's tact!" ejaculated the lady in the front 
 row. 
 
 "But you all know what to expect," continued 
 the Madam President, "when I tell you that we shall 
 now have the honor and pleasure of listening to 
 our great magazine poet, Mr. James Bruce Feehan." 
 
 Mr. Feehan was the only member of the poetic 
 vaudeville who had anything resembling access to 
 the Eastern magazines. He was a tall, thin man, 
 who parted his whiskers in the middle. He had 
 a large, thin, transparent nose; and the chief 
 study of his life was to appear esthetic a yearning, 
 however, which was not sufficiently strong to make 
 him give up chewing tobacco. He wrote vast quan- 
 tities of mechanically perfect poemettes; and he 
 was fond of having himself photographed in soul- 
 ful attitudes, with his chin upon his hand, with 
 his right finger-tip touching his forehead, gazing 
 at a rose in his right hand, and so forth. He read
 
 AT THE PIERIAN SPRING 165 
 
 six or eight brief twitterings upon the subject of 
 love, and then, after bowing sadly and majestically 
 to the Madam President, left the room. 
 
 The Madam President announced the date of the 
 next meeting, adding : 
 
 "I can promise, almost with certainty, a rare in- 
 tellectual treat for our next session. The famous 
 rising lawyer and orator, Mr. Edward Crissey, has 
 as good as promised to lecture to us. If necessary, 
 we shall send a committee to bring him by force. 
 The subject, as soon as he selects one, will be an- 
 nounced in the papers. It will be something inter- 
 esting and improving to the mind. The meeting is 
 now adjourned."
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 ABOUT MEN AND HORSES 
 
 During the progress of the evening, Nellie tittered 
 several times, once so loudly that frowning faces 
 were turned in her direction. It required a power- 
 ful counter-attraction to make her so far forget her- 
 self while poets were reciting. Such attraction ex- 
 isted in th'e attention and wit of the celebrated 
 esth'ete and artist, Mr. Gifford Dare, who had man- 
 aged to crowd into a seat behind the fair secretary, 
 and was whispering a series of amusing comments 
 into her ear. 
 
 Mr. Dare was advanced in years he was about 
 fifty yet he had the knack of appearing at most 
 times to be in the neighborhood of thirty. Occa- 
 sionally, when one met him, he seemed aged, th'rougK 
 fatigue, perhaps, or some fault of costume; yet the 
 next time that one saw him rejuvenescence was 
 sure to have taken place. He grew old as the frog 
 climbs the well in the troublesome mathematical 
 problem he was continually slipping back and then 
 166
 
 ABOUT MEN AND HORSES 167 
 
 climbing up again. Commercially successful as an 
 artist, he maintained luxurious rooms in the Fine 
 Arts Building, where his walls were Hung with 
 original studies, and his antique furniture covered 
 with oriental rugs. A pair of Kiskilm curtains were 
 looped gracefully back in the door of an alcove, 
 within which were a Turkish table and a broad, low 
 divan. A manikin and a suit of medieval armor 
 added to the picturesqueness of the main apartment, 
 which was rendered more interesting by a series of 
 costumes of all nations hanging "from hooks on the 
 wall. Nellie had been there once, in company with 
 several other ladies, to view a new painting, and 
 she had come away much impressed. 
 
 Mr. Dare was a picturesque and effective dresser. 
 He studied the effect of various costumes before his 
 mirror for hours. He delighted chiefly in capes 
 and slouch hats, yet he was always exactly correct 
 upon every occasion. When the golf season was on 
 he might be seen even in his studio, attired in full 
 golf regalia, and he sometimes wore the high, glazed 
 boots and velvet trousers of the riding habit ; though, 
 as a matter of fact, he abhorred golf itself and would 
 no more have mounted a horse than a rhinoceros. 
 
 Mr. Dare was a great authority on the number of 
 buttons that should be worn on bicycle trousers 
 just above the stocking; he knew the correct length
 
 168 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 of a string tie to a fraction of an inch ; and the swell 
 young men about town watched the shade of his 
 walking gloves solicitously. He possessed the su- 
 preme secret of wearing lively colors and startling 
 combinations without shocking the canons of good 
 taste. 
 
 As for personal appearance, the artist was of 
 slight, elegant figure, while for the rest, he was 
 languid, amusingly ironical, and given to saying 
 things that would cause people to quote him. As 
 every man has a secret ambition which is a greater 
 passion than his life's work, so Mr. Dare longed 
 to be known for his apt and nimble wit. 
 
 "I am going to 'save myself,' as the French say, 
 as soon as this thing is over," he whispered to Nel- 
 lie, skilfully seating himself so that she could reply 
 without twisting her neck too much. 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Dare, and we have such interesting dis- 
 cussions after the adjournment I" 
 
 "You won't to-night," he muttered. "Unsuccess- 
 ful poets are bad company." 
 
 "But these are not unsuccessful." 
 
 "Oh, yes they are all except Feehan, and he's 
 not a poet. You can tell that they are unsuccessful 
 from the fact tftat they are all jealous of him be- 
 cause the magazines take his stuff. There's no
 
 ABOUT MEN AND HORSES 169 
 
 such thing as jealousy among geniuses. Where did 
 you find all these freaks, anyway?" 
 
 "Sh If the Madam President hears you, she'll 
 never let you come here again." 
 
 "Heaven forbid ! For then I should lose my one 
 opportunity of seeing you." 
 
 Nellie flushed and looked about her anxiously. 
 
 "Then one is always in mortal terror at an au- 
 thor's reception, anyway. He suffers from haunt- 
 ing fear that one of them may have written some- 
 thing that he hasn't read." 
 
 "You should be more more patriotic," replied 
 Nellie, feeling for the right word and missing it. 
 "You should read the works of the famous men of 
 your own city." 
 
 She was flattered that this great artist was whis- 
 pering to her and felt a certain pleasing excitement 
 at the adventure. 
 
 "There are so many famous authors in the 
 women's clubs," sighed the artist, "that one*would 
 need the memory of the recording angel to keep 
 track of them. I can't even remember the names 
 of this batch to-night and it's considered impolite, 
 when talking with a famous author, to get his name 
 wrong." 
 
 "You must stay and get acquainted with our 
 poets," said Nellie. "They won't eat you."
 
 170 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD. 
 
 "No poets for me, thank you. One of them might 
 present me with a book." 
 
 "Well what would there be so very terrible 
 about that ?" 
 
 "They always come nosing around the next day 
 to see if you have cut the leaves. I always forget 
 that necessary ceremony, and the visit of inspec- 
 tion makes me nervous. A law should be passed 
 prohibiting the publishing of books of verse with 
 uncut leaves." 
 
 When Mrs. Hudson took the floor, Mr. Dare was 
 in great feather. With a cynic's logic, he felt that 
 he could ingratiate himself in one woman's favor 
 by ridiculing another, especially when that other 
 possessed a gift of which her sister migKt be en- 
 vious. 
 
 He leaned forward and languidly pulled the tip 
 of his drooping mustache. 
 
 "There's soul for you," he whispered, "as our 
 dear sister on the mourner's bench would say." 
 
 Nellie suddenly remembered a remark that she 
 had once heard some one make concerning a thin, 
 soulful person. It did not come to her as a recol- 
 lection ; it simply floated into her consciousness 
 through the power of association. 
 
 "Yes, she's all soul and bones," she tittered. 
 
 The artist started.
 
 ABOUT MEN AND HORSES 171 
 
 "By Jove, she's not stupid, either!" he thought. 
 "Now that's downright cruel!" he whispered, ap- 
 provingly. 
 
 "Woman's inhumanity to woman," retorted Nel- 
 lie. "Do you know," she continued, turning far- 
 ther around that she might better face this brilliant 
 man, "that Mrs. Hudson is thinner than when I 
 last saw her, and then I thought that she had 
 reached the limit ?" 
 
 "She must have dropped a bone," suggested Dare. 
 
 It was then that the secretary tittered so loudly 
 that the frowning faces were turned toward her. 
 It was during this conversation that Mr. Dare ob- 
 tained permission to call. 
 
 The Madam President's announcement that the 
 meeting had adjourned acted as though she had 
 lifted the gate of a dam, and a flood of suppressed 
 talk and enthusiasm burst forth. The poets were 
 immediately surrounded, and were questioned as to 
 their manner of writing, as to how they felt when 
 inspired, as to how they knew when they were act- 
 ually inspired, and so forth. One lady asked Mr. 
 Clancy if there was any way to detect the difference 
 between real inspiration and pseudo-inspiration, a 
 question for which the Madam President reproved 
 her with the remark that our poets could not know, 
 as they never felt any but the genuine kind.
 
 172 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 A nervous, sallow lady, with a square face and 
 thin, gray hair, forced her way through the crowd 
 with desperate eagerness. 
 
 "Can you tell me " she asked, addressing first 
 one poet and then another, but each time her ques- 
 tion was cut in the middle by an outburst of volu- 
 bility on the part of her sisters. At least twenty 
 times she cried shrilly, "Can you tell me " her 
 voice darting into the brief silences with the swift- 
 ness of a swallow flitting into an open door. 
 
 "I did so want to find out," she explained to a 
 friend, as they were going down in the elevator to- 
 gether, "whether poetry is the true soul expression 
 or not. We must be striving continually toward 
 the higher life, toward soul expansion. We must 
 give our souls voices ! Oh, I wish we could have 
 had a discussion on this point! Wouldn't it be 
 lovely," she gushed, "if one could look into the 
 mind of a poet and see all the beautiful thoughts, 
 the delightful fancies there !" 
 
 "There are some thoughts too beautiful for the 
 world to have," sighed the friend, a female law- 
 yer, with short hair, and a respectable practice in 
 the probate court. 
 
 As the throng began to disperse, Mr. Dare went 
 for his cloak and hat, and then hastened back to the 
 assembly room with the purpose of riding down
 
 ABOUT MEN AND HORSES 173 
 
 to tHe street with Nellie, and an indefinite thought 
 as to future developments. Perhaps he would even 
 offer to escort her to her home on the North Side, 
 though a feeling of fatigue penetrated his youthful 
 veneer as he thought of the long journey back on 
 the street cars. He glanced at himself in a full- 
 length mirror in the hall, and exulted in the ro- 
 mantic figure which he presented in his long artist's 
 cloak. At any rate he would show himself to this 
 fair creature in this becoming attire. What was 
 his disgust to meet her just coming out on the 
 right arm of Mr. Murchison, the plump, blond, and 
 effusive Mrs. Kimball-Smith on his left. 
 
 "You both live on the North Side," the Magnate 
 was saying in his most caressing voice, "and right 
 in my neighborhood, so there is no earthly reason 
 why I should not give myself the pleasure of your 
 society." 
 
 "Oh, I'm so afraid we shall be putting you out !" 
 simpered Mrs. Kimball-Smith. 
 
 "On the contrary, you have saved the situation, 
 so far as I am concerned. I was so afraid I should 
 be compelled to ride home alone." 
 
 Mr. Dare followed them down. What was his 
 disgust to behold an elegant victoria waiting. As 
 Mr. Murchison approached, the footman leaped 
 down from his box, and the beautiful iron-gray
 
 174 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 steeds shook their silver-mounted harness till it 
 gave forth a silvery jingling. The footman threw 
 open the carriage, and the Magnate helped in the 
 two women. Then he stepped in and sat beside 
 Nellie upon the back seat. The electric light fell in 
 a sickly glare upon his high forehead, his gray mus- 
 tache, his square chin. He licked his fishy lips as 
 he looked at Nellie and said with a familiar smile : 
 
 "It's a glorious evening. We shall have a de- 
 lightful drive through the park." 
 
 "Such" a fitting conclusion to an evening with the 
 poets 1" cried Mrs. Kimball-Smith. 
 
 The beautiful steeds pranced briskly away over 
 the slippery cobblestones with much clattering of 
 hoofs. Nellie sat up very straight and rigid, as one 
 unaccustomed to ride in carriages, while Murchison 
 lolled back familiarly in a corner. Dare stood look- 
 ing after them until they disappeared in the direc- 
 tion of the bridge. 
 
 "Damned old libertine!" he muttered under his 
 breath. "When a man gets to be gray as a rat, it's 
 about time he began to behave himself." The artist 
 was not gray ; his hair and mustache were dyed. 
 
 But Dare was an artist after all, whose religion 
 was love for the beautiful. His perception was not 
 always the most penetrating, and the eyes of his soul 
 were blurred by a fleshy film, causing him often
 
 ABOUT MEN AND HORSES 175 
 
 to miss the more ethereal and immortal revelations 
 of his god; yet a moonrise could make him think 
 of his mother and his childhood, and a really beau- 
 tiful woman was his only serious temptation to 
 folly. Perfection of outline, shapeliness, the warm, 
 swelling curves of the living statue, carved by the 
 hands of the Master Sculptor, these things were 
 a sufficient joy to him. He could have loved, in 
 his way, an idiot woman with the features and form 
 of a Psyche. 
 
 He forgot Nellie for the moment now, as he stood 
 looking up at the ancient moon sailing far above 
 among her stars. There is something primeval, 
 lonely, remote, unfamiliar about the moon, even 
 when seen from a city street. One feels as though 
 suddenly transported to the Heart of a vast desert, 
 to a mountain top, or to the desolate shore of the 
 boundless sea. If a cab roll by with its mysterious 
 freight, or the feet of a belated wanderer beat upon 
 the pave, the feeling of strangeness, isolation and 
 littleness is only accentuated. The vast, grim piles 
 shrank to nothingness as the artist gazed, and the 
 clouds of black smoke pouring from a thousand 
 chimneys, dwindled to the breath from the nostrils 
 of a sleeping beast. 
 
 Mr. Dare shivered, lit a cigarette, and turned his 
 footsteps toward Rector's. WHen he ceased to look
 
 176 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 at the moon, he thought again of the woman with 
 the red-gold hair. 
 
 Meanwhile Nellie, Mrs. Kimball-Smith, and the 
 Magnate were rolling northward on Dearborn Ave- 
 nue. The harness jingled merrily, the hoofs of the 
 splendid team thudded dully on the asphalt pave, 
 and the soft rubber tires rolled noiselessly. 
 
 "It's a fine night/' observed the Magnate. 
 
 "Isn't it perfectly lovely?" cried Mrs. Kimball- 
 Smith. "It's exactly full moon now." 
 
 Mr. Murchison looked critically at the moon. 
 
 "No," he replied, "to-morrow night it will be 
 full. I can see a little circular snip off from the 
 left side. What do you think, Mrs. Chapin ?" 
 
 "It's almost full," assented Nellie. 
 
 "That's the effects of being out late," observed 
 the financier, who had not an original mind. 
 
 Mrs. Kimball-Smith laughed merrily. "Mr. 
 Murchison is so droll," she exclaimed. The widow 
 was of a pretty, cuddling sort, and the white opera 
 shawl which she had thrown over her head was 
 exceedingly becoming as she very well knew. 
 
 "Hold 'em down a little, Tom," said Mr. Murchi- 
 son to the driver. "That off mare," he observed to 
 the ladies, "is a nervous beast. She's been on the 
 race track, and she has a habit of starting every time 
 sKe hears a team coming up behind her. That's the
 
 ABOUT MEN AND HORSES 177 
 
 trouble with putting a carriage horse on the race 
 track, especially if it's high-strung. This one has 
 trotted in two twenty-two. I had to have her, 
 because she just matches Lucy there. Her owner, 
 Bob McCormick do you know Bob, Mrs. Chapin ?" 
 Nellie did not. From time to time Mr. Murchison 
 would mention one or another of the city's million- 
 aires, with the ingenuous question, "Do you know 
 him?" And both ladies would reply, "Not er 
 personally. I have heard of him." 
 
 The ex-model felt as though she were dreaming. 
 
 "Bob didn't want to sell her, but I had to have 
 her. The beggar had the nerve to ask me two 
 thousand dollars for her. Just a hold-up. He 
 knew she wasn't worth it, and so did I and he 
 didn't need the money, either. Lucy, there, isn't 
 fast. She can go in three minutes in a light run- 
 about. She" 
 
 "See what a distinct shadow that tree tKrows on 
 the pavement!" cried the widow. She had been 
 riding with owners of horses frequently, and 
 in her greater experience knew that they would 
 talk of nothing but their animals unless headed off 
 in the most adroit and determined manner. That 
 the Magnate was a Horse man she knew from the 
 fact that he saluted the one or two men whom they 
 passed under the ligHts a driving teams. There is a
 
 178 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD! 
 
 sort of masonry existing among the owners of good 
 horses in a great city. 
 
 "Yes, that's the electric light," observed Murchi- 
 son. "Do you like electricity for illuminating pur- 
 poses, Mrs. Chapin?" 
 
 "We use gas," replied Nellie. "Electricity is not 
 good for the complexion, they say. Then, too, it's 
 fatal to us ladies who are getting old. It brings out 
 the slightest wrinkle." 
 
 "I should think you'd have it put in tKen, to show 
 that you haven't any." 
 
 "I just knew Mrs. Chapin was fishing for a com- 
 pliment," laughed the widow, who had a wrinkle 
 or two in tKe corners of her eyes. 
 
 "Our friend, Mr. Crissey," said Nellie, racking 
 her brain to think of some prosperous acquaintance 
 who must be in the Magnate's set, "will not use 
 electricity to study by. He is having gas put into 
 his new house, as he told my husband and myself 
 when we were dining there the other evening. He 
 thinks electricity ruins the eyes." 
 
 "Are you intimate with the Crisseys?" asked 
 Murchison. 
 
 "Oh, very. My husband and he were school-boys 
 together." 
 
 "Shall you come and hear Mr. Crissey's talk be- 
 fore the club?" asked the widow. "It's sure to be.
 
 ABOUT MEN AND HORSES 179 
 
 something grand. He's a bright, brainy man a 
 rising man." 
 
 "And so handsome!" cried Nellie. 
 
 "There! now the cat's out of the bag," said the 
 Magnate. "You ladies are all alike. Let a man 
 be handsome, and he's bright, brainy, and every- 
 thing else, in your eyes." 
 
 "But you're coming to hear him, aren't you?" 
 persisted th'e widow, making sweet eyes at Murchi- 
 son. 
 
 "Will you be there?" he asked earnestly, leaning 
 close to Nellie. 
 
 "Of course. I have to be there. I am one of the 
 officers of th'e club," she added proudly. 
 
 "Then you may count on me, though' I'll not 
 promise to listen to Crissey. He doesn't interest me 
 particularly. He has no standing among successful 
 men men of real brain." 
 
 Mrs. Kimball-Smith bit her lip with vexation. 
 She thought Murchison's spite against Crissey due 
 to a spasm of jealousy. 
 
 "Now we're in tKe park," she cried, with added 
 animation to cover her annoyance. "You should 
 have brought Mrs. Hudson along to point out the 
 poetic beauties to us." 
 
 "Don't you tKink she has soul?" asked Nellie. 
 
 "Yes/' replied the Magnate, "certainly. All hu-
 
 180 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 man beings have souls. I believe that horses have 
 souls. There's that off mare of mine now " 
 
 "But Mrs. Hudson is so painfully thin!" ex- 
 claimed the widow, guarding in tierce, and think- 
 ing at the same time of her own billowy figure. 
 
 "All soul and bones !" added Nellie, with her ex- 
 plosive titter. 
 
 The Magnate leaned back in his carriage and 
 laughed heartily, spontaneously . 
 
 "All soul and bones !" he repeated. "That's neat- 
 ly put ! That expresses it exactly ! You couldn't 
 describe her better if you were to talk an hour." 
 Nellie was delighted at the success of her bon-mot. 
 
 "I'm glad that you did not bring her along," she 
 continued, "because poets are bad company. They 
 are always offering to present you with their books, 
 and then they call around the next day and pick 
 them up to see if you have cut the leaves or not." 
 
 "And of course you've always forgotten to do 
 it," laughed the Magnate. 
 
 "Oh, of course!" 
 
 Poor Mrs. Kimball-Smith was in despair at this 
 outburst of brilliancy on Nellie's part. "Mrs. Hud- 
 son seemed thinner to-night than when I last saw 
 her," she observed, anxious to say something of in- 
 terest. 
 
 "She must have dropped a bone," tittered Nellie,
 
 ABOUT MEN AND HORSES 181 
 
 secretly grateful for the unexpected opening. 
 Murchison chuckled with glee, and the widow re- 
 gretted that she had not bitten out her tongue before 
 making the fruitful remark. 
 
 She ached to get in a dig at Nellie, and two or 
 three sly, poisonous things entered her brain, but 
 she was afraid of this bright woman who was in 
 such form to-night. 
 
 They were well into the park now. It was mid- 
 October, one of those glorious nights of fall that 
 compensate for all the villainies of the climate. 
 The air had that warming and at the same time 
 biting tang that one tastes in dry wine. It is 
 a trite figure, but none other is so good; for the 
 air exhilarated without intoxicating, as the best wine 
 should do. There was in it, moreover, a lingering 
 regret, a memory and a sigh of departed summer, 
 as wine from a far country will evoke dreams of 
 the castled Rhine, visions of sunny Spain, or the 
 faint laughter of brown-skinned, ragged children 
 among the hills of Sicily. 
 
 The ghost of summer seemed to be wandering 
 in the dim moonlight, among the trees of the park, 
 grieving over her dead flowers. The moon shone 
 whitely on the mottled trunks of the birches, and 
 the tall trees were silhouetted cleanly upon the grass 
 as though worked in black on some ancient tapes-
 
 i82 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 try. The white electric lights gleamed numerously, 
 making little spheres of incongruous noonday 
 among sylvan foliage. But for their garishness 
 one could have thought them Japanese lanterns 
 hanging in a festal garden whose revelers had fled. 
 
 "Drive down by the Lake, Tom," commanded the 
 Magnate. "I want to get on to the race track 
 there, so that you can speed 'em up a bit. They 
 step well together," he explained to the ladies. 
 "The off mare is a little too fast for the other, but 
 they have learned each other's gait. Tom, here, 
 is the best driver I've ever had. He can get four 
 minutes out of them, with* us all in the carriage. 
 Before I bought Lucy of Bob McCormick do you 
 know Bob? Oh, that's so, you said you didn't. 
 Before I bought Lucy " 
 
 "We shall see the moonlight on the Lake !" cried 
 the widow. "I just dote on moonlight when it 
 falls on water, like the ocean or the lake." 
 
 "Yes," assented Murchison. "You can see more 
 of it than when it falls on the land." 
 
 He was right, for miles of the restless water were 
 glorified by a long trail of melted silver. Had Mr. 
 Roth, Muchison's poor employee, been present, He 
 would have sKut his eyes, and would have imagined 
 himself sailing away toward the moon on that trail 
 in a tiny shallop, with a plump little pock-marked
 
 ABOUT MEN AND. HORSES 183 
 
 woman by his side. But she would not have been 
 pock-marked to him; her face would have been 
 radiant with the beauty of a Greek nymph, and he 
 would have stepped ashore on the moon with her, 
 hand in hand. And the light on their faces and in 
 their eyes 
 
 "Here's the race-track, Tom !" said the Magnate. 
 "Now see what you can do with 'em. Lucy there 
 is too fat," he apologized to the ladies. A moment 
 later Nellie was holding her breath in fear, and the 
 divine panorama of the night was whizzing by her 
 at the thoughtless rate of a mile in four minutes. 
 
 "Tom," said Mr. Murchison, as soon as they had 
 slowed down, "don't that new mare forge a little?" 
 
 "I thought I heard her myself, sir," replied the 
 coachman, looking back. 
 
 "If you think there's any danger of her quarter- 
 ing, you'd better put her in boots though I hate 
 'em." 
 
 "Very well, sir," replied Tom. 
 
 The Magnate descended at Nellie's house, helped 
 her out, and escorted her to the door, 
 
 "I hope to see you often," Ke said in his caressing 
 voice, holding her hand. "We are near neighbors, 
 you know. Any time that you want to take a ride, 
 you have only to let me know. By the way" here 
 he resorted to the cheap expedient of the rich Lotha-
 
 i8 4 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 rio "your husband is welcome to use one of my 
 saddle horses whenever he feels like it. They need 
 exercise, and there's nothing so healthy for a man 
 of sedentary habits as riding." 
 
 When Nellie entered her flat she found a full light 
 burning, and Harry asleep under it, with the sport- 
 ing extra of a sensational paper on his lap. He 
 had been growing bald rapidly within the last few 
 months, and the tuft of thin hair standing on 
 his shiny forehead looked comical to her. He was 
 tired, and his mouth had dropped open. She shook 
 him, and he awoke with a start. 
 
 "Our gas bill was five dollars last month," she 
 said. "Why don't you turn it off when you are 
 going to sleep?" 
 
 "Don't come home witK a groucH on, Nell," he 
 pleaded. "It's bad enough to leave a fellow alone 
 all evening, without picking him up for something 
 the minute you set foot in the door."
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 THE CORRECT MAN 
 
 Some time before this, the great firm of corpora- 
 tion lawyers, Wilson and Moore, called in Edward 
 Crissey to help them in a damage suit brought 
 by the city against one of the many railroads 
 which concenter in it like spokes in the hub of 
 a mighty wheel. They needed the most con- 
 vincing pleader they could find to talk before a 
 jury, and perhaps before the Supreme Bench. They 
 were agreeably surprised to learn that Edward 
 Crissey not only could state an argument in a dig- 
 nified, clear and most convincing manner, but that 
 he was a sound lawyer and invaluable in consulta- 
 tion. Wilson, the senior member of the firm, took 
 a great liking to him personally, and told his wife, 
 who was a society leader by some considered the 
 leader that he thought "Crissey would do." 
 
 "Almost any man will do," replied Mrs. Wilson, 
 a mite of a woman, who managed to be a "queen 
 of society" and mother a big girl and two or three 
 185
 
 186 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 boys successfully at the same time; "almost any 
 man will do in American society who doesn't eat 
 with his knife and wear a soft shirt at an evening 
 reception. But what about his wife? We can ex- 
 cuse eccentricities of attire in a talented man, but 
 not even genius makes them acceptable in a woman. 
 These self-made men are apt to have very rudi- 
 mentary wives. Besides, it's safer to invite a doubt- 
 ful man than his wife. The man will be so busy 
 continuing the making process that one is not likely 
 to see much more of him ; but the woman, if given 
 the least encouragement, is sure to hatch" out a 
 society bee and become a source of embarrassment." 
 
 Mr. Wilson was a short, stoutish man, with keen 
 gray eyes, light hair, and a light red mustache. 
 He was near-sighted and wore a gold 'pince-nez. 
 He was very deaf, and, as is often the case, his voice 
 was as low and soft as a woman's. He belonged to 
 several fashionable clubs, and was retained at prince- 
 ly salaries by half a dozen great corporations. The 
 Wilsons lived in a simple, squarely-built palace on 
 State Street, with' a big packing case of a ball room, 
 an architectural afterthought, out behind. 
 
 Mr. Wilson laughed. "Very well, my dear; if 
 you make so much of it, we won't ask him. To tell 
 you the truth, I hadn't thought of the wife. I have 
 never seen Her, and I don't suppose anybody else
 
 THE CORRECT MAN 187 
 
 ever has. Crissey's a good fellow, though, of ster- 
 ling merit, and is going to be heard from some day. 
 He's a rising man. I'll invite him to the Union 
 League to lunch and let it go at that." 
 
 "No," replied Mrs. Wilson, who, alone of mortals, 
 could make the lawyer hear without shouting at him. 
 "You have excited my curiosity. He must indeed 
 be a prodigy, you are so seldom enthusiastic over 
 anybody. I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll invite the 
 Crisseys to Ethel's coming out, and I can tell with 
 one glance whether the wife will do or not. It will 
 be a grand crush, and they will scarcely be noticed. 
 I have never called on the woman, but she probably 
 doesn't know the difference." 
 
 Mr. Wilson kissed his little wife as a sign that 
 he understood the magnitude of her sacrifice. To 
 tell the truth, he was quite anxious to make friends 
 with Crissey, in whose abilities he had great con- 
 fidence, and whom he believed to be a man worth 
 cultivating. One of his duties as attorney for 
 large corporations was to "get on his staff" men of 
 influence, either present or prospective. 
 
 Dorothy Crissey was somewhat mystified sev- 
 eral days later by the receipt of a letter in a large 
 square envelope, informing her and her husband 
 that Mr. and Mrs. Wilson would be pleased to see 
 them at the presentation of their daughter Ethel to
 
 188 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 the social world. Dorothy knew, of course, that 
 her husband had been associated with Wilson and 
 Moore in an important case, but this fact did not 
 greatly impress her, as she took for granted that her 
 husband was the most learned and eloquent lawyer 
 in the country. Had he been called into hurried 
 consultation by the secretary of state or the presi- 
 dent, she would simply have wondered why they 
 had not asked his advice before. That Mrs. Wil- 
 son should invite her to her house seemed a more 
 portentous matter. It was the first time that the 
 rays of her husband's rising greatness had caused 
 her to shine with reflected light. 
 
 "I have nothing to wear," she objected, taking 
 immediate refuge in woman's immemorial excuse 
 the excuse that originated with Eve. 
 
 "Nothing to wear !" exclaimed Edward. "There's 
 there's your black silk." 
 
 "That's nice, I know, but it wouldn't be suitable 
 for such an occasion." 
 
 "Well, there's that brand new dress you bought 
 the other day to go to church in." 
 
 "Oh, that's only a cloth street dress. Besides, I 
 haven't any wrap that would do. Why, Edward, 
 this is the most fashionable house in town. I 
 wouldn't go there for the world and have you 
 ashamed of me. I "
 
 THE CORRECT MAN 189 
 
 "Ashamed of you ? Ashamed of my wife ? What 
 nonsense !" 
 
 "Besides, they only want you, any way." 
 
 "Why, the invitation says for both of us." 
 
 "I know it does ; but neither of them ever saw 
 me, and Mr. Wilson is acquainted with you. No; 
 you go, and come back and tell me all about it. I'll 
 go next time." 
 
 And there she stuck. Had it been a question of 
 advancing her husband's interests in any way, she 
 would have gone through fire. But she honestly 
 believed that her husband was the lion whom they 
 wanted, and she did not wish to cause him the ex- 
 pense of a new gown for a single occasion. She in- 
 sisted, however, on his going ; and she helped him to 
 dress with great solicitude when the afternoon ar- 
 rived. 
 
 "You must wear a tail-coat, Edward," she said. 
 "Your black diagonal cutaway and your silk hat 
 will be just the thing. And you must wear your 
 gloves, also. These black gloves will do. Black 
 gloves are always dressy, and, besides, they just 
 match your coat." 
 
 To prevent his looking too funereal, she brought 
 out a new pair of trousers, with fine white and 
 black stripes, which he had recently ordered at a 
 fashionable tailor's, and which fitted him so per-
 
 190 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 fectly that th'ey were the pride of her heart. The 
 reflection that the occasion was a festive one in- 
 duced her to produce one of the white string ties 
 which she had bought for him to wear with his 
 dress suit. 
 
 "Pin it down in the back, Dolly," said he, as she 
 was tying it on ; "there's nothing in the world like 
 one of these starched white ties to climb up to the 
 top of a man's collar. And the bow slips around 
 under your ear, too, if the thing isn't fairly spiked 
 down." 
 
 Dorothy drove the pin through the stiff collar 
 with the end of her thumb, and then spent some 
 time pulling at her husband's tie, picking bits 
 of lint from his coat, and giving him a poke here 
 and there. She followed him to the door, calling: 
 "Be sure to stop somewhere and get your boots 
 blacked, dear; and don't forget to put on your 
 gloves before you go into the house." 
 
 "Don't beget it, papa," echoed little Dorothy, now 
 four years of age. 
 
 "Your papa'll be the handsomest man there," 
 cried the proud wife, catching Her baby to her 
 breast, and hugging her because she was half Ed- 
 ward's, "and the smartest, too." 
 
 A few moments later Jim came in. 
 
 "I met the governor in his glad rags," said he.
 
 THE CORRECT MAN 191 
 
 "Whew, wasn't he swell ! Looked like an under- 
 taker." 
 
 "James," said Mrs. Crissey, "you will oblige me 
 by not speaking so flippantly of your father. A 
 boy who has such a father should be proud of him 
 every moment of his life and should never speak 
 of him disrespectfully." 
 
 TKere was a grave, quiet look in the gray eyes, 
 and a something in the voice, lower and more dis- 
 tinct than usual, which Jim understood. 
 
 "I didn't mean no disrespect, mother," he replied 
 apologetically. "I only meant he was all dressed 
 up." 
 
 "But there is disrespect in comparing your father 
 with a man of any occupation inferior to his own. 
 Your father couldn't look like an undertaker. To 
 my mind," she continued more softly, "he looked 
 more like a senator or or or something of that 
 sort. Always remember you are your father's son, 
 James." 
 
 "Gee!" grumbled the boy as hie left the room, 
 "mother's touchy about father. She bristles up 
 like a cat if you don't speak about him just so. An* 
 I bet I can lick 'im myself when I get two years 
 older." Crooking his rigHt arm, he felt of his 
 muscle. 
 
 FaitRful fo his wife's advice, Mr. Crissey had his
 
 192 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 boots blacked by a negro who presided over a chair 
 on the sidewalk ; and he pulled on his black gloves 
 just before entering the Wilson residence. He rang 
 the bell, and the butler said to him : 
 
 "Right-hand room, sir, at the top of the stairs." 
 There were numerous carriages in the street be- 
 fore the door, and he met several very young men 
 whom he did not know coming down the wide 
 stairs. He noticed, with one shrewd glance, that 
 they were dressed so exactly alike that they seemed 
 to be in uniform, and that they all had a groomed 
 and ironed air about them as though each suit had 
 come directly from the hands of the same fashion- 
 able tailor. 
 
 The door opened again before he reached the 
 top landing, and the men who came in spoke fa- 
 miliarly to the butler. As he glanced down at the 
 drawing-room over the balustrade, he saw that it 
 was packed with women. A faint smell of roses 
 floated up to his nostrils. A neat maid wearing a 
 cap pointed to the door of a room, and he entered. 
 A young man stood before a mirror arranging his 
 hair, and two others, smoking cigarettes, were 
 standing near a window, talking in a low tone. 
 These were dressed exactly like the others whom he 
 had met on the stairs. All were clean-shaven, and he 
 noticed that the faces of three out of the five were
 
 THE CORRECT MAN 193 
 
 fat and florid. He did not know any of the men 
 in the room. 
 
 Laying his coat and cane on the bed and setting 
 his hat atop, he descended. Standing on tiptoe, 
 he looked over the garden of heads, but recognized 
 no one. Feeling conspicuous there in the hall, he 
 plunged into the throng, and was, after a few mo- 
 ments, carried into the middle of the room much as 
 a body frozen in a glacier is moved onward. He 
 received a mixed impression of women, rich toilets, 
 delicate perfumes, snatches of conversation concern- 
 ing past and prospective social events, and roses 
 oceans of flowers. Then he slowly and gently but 
 firmly wedged his way out again. 
 
 Standing on tiptoe once more, he looked about 
 for Wilson, but could see him nowhere. Then he 
 observed that there was a sort of Gulf Stream in 
 this sea of people which was steadily flowing to- 
 ward a woman and a girl standing together at one 
 end of the great drawing-room. 
 
 The people passed in single file before this cou- 
 ple; they shook hands with the elder woman first, 
 were introduced to the younger, spoke a few words, 
 and passed on. He understood, and floated into the 
 edge of the Gulf Stream. After about ten minutes 
 he arrived and found himself before a richly dressed 
 Koman of diminutive stature^ who reminded him
 
 i 9 4 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 of a picture he had seen in some history of Marie 
 Louise. She was in fact attired in an empire gown, 
 a fashion whicK she much affected. Two or three 
 women pressed against him from behind, and he 
 fancied he felt sharp knuckles thrust against his 
 back. The miniature Marie Louise looked up at 
 him sweetly and politely expectant. 
 
 "I am Mr. Crissey, Edward Crissey," he ex- 
 plained. 
 
 "We are delighted to see you here, Mr. Crissey. 
 I have heard my husband say so many nice things 
 about you. You and he seem to have become great 
 friends," and she extended a little hand. 
 
 Mr. Crissey raised his hand and gave one tug at 
 a finger of his glove. Then he remembered his 
 wife's parting injunction to keep his gloves on, and 
 he seized the little hand and gave it an honest shake. 
 
 "Your husband, Madam, is a man whose abilities 
 and character I greatly admire. I am delighted to 
 learn from your lips that the sentiment is ah 
 somewhat mutual." 
 
 "Oh, it is, I assure you. Is Mrs. Crissey with 
 you ?" 
 
 "No, Madam, I regret to say that she is not. The 
 fact is" 
 
 "Oh, what a disappointment ! I did so want her 
 to see the floral decorations. Mr. Crissey, this is
 
 THE CORRECT MAN 195 
 
 my daughter, Ethel. Ethel, this is the eloquent gen- 
 tleman of whom you have heard your father speak 
 so often." 
 
 Crissey also shook hands with the daughter, a 
 tall young woman in an elaborate gown, whose 
 pretty cheeks were flushed with excitement. 
 
 "I congratulate you, Miss Wilson, on this auspi- 
 cious occasion," he began. 
 
 His voice trembled a trifle, because lie was a true 
 orator, and his periods always bred emotion. Miss 
 Wilson, though instantly alive to the fact that some- 
 thing gauche was happening, yet felt strangely 
 swayed by the sympathetic and earnest timbre in 
 the man's voice. The dark eyes looked seriously 
 and gravely into hers, and the florid face with its 
 crown of white hair was distinguished, if not ex- 
 actly Handsome. Edward Crissey was never 
 ridiculous, not even when swimming in strange 
 waters. 
 
 "May these flowers," he continued, "which I see 
 here in such lavish profusion " but the current of 
 the Gulf Stream was too strong for him. 
 
 He was swept onward and the remainder of his 
 pretty speech was addressed to a broad feminine 
 back and a topknot of white feminine hair. 
 
 "Be typical of the roses of love and happiness 
 that will strew the path of your whole life."
 
 196 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 Mr. Crissey floated to the wall, then along that 
 boundary and out into another large room that was 
 less crowded. Here he observed a sideboard, load- 
 ed with good things and guarded by several tall 
 sentinels in evening dress. Groups of guests were 
 chatting here, and occasionally some of the young 
 men would look anxiously at the viands and decan- 
 ters, but nobody made a move to partake of any- 
 thing. Crissey did not dream of taking a sandwich 
 or of asking one of the sublime sentinels for a drink. 
 He did not know that in "high" society in the forma- 
 tive state, "high" society that has almost arrived, 
 people are not yet at perfect ease. There is still 
 that lingering and ever-present dread of doing 
 something not correct, something that would not be 
 done, for instance, in a swell London drawing- 
 room. Nobody dares to take the initiative. Men 
 and women do not feel quite at home in each other's 
 houses, no matter how magnificent, when those 
 houses are brand new. Correct costumes, correct 
 invitation cards, correct hours for dining and giving 
 functions, are the first steps up a ladder that it 
 takes centuries to climb. Even servants can be im- 
 ported. Ease, assurance, elegant bonhomie, can be 
 neither bought nor brought from over seas. They 
 are the finishing touches to "society." 
 
 Nobody spoke to Crissey in this room, but he saw
 
 THE CORRECT MAN 197 
 
 something at a distance that looked friendly. His 
 eyes wandered to the library, where were long rows 
 of large volumes, whose elegant bindings shone 
 behind glass doors. He approached, and soon felt 
 as though all his old friends had grown suddenly 
 rich, tricked themselves out in purple and fine linen 
 and turned their backs on him. What struck him 
 most forcibly was the numerical size of the editions. 
 Authors who were familiar to him in one volume, 
 or at the most in three or four, were here swollen 
 into twelve, fifteen or twenty portentous tomes. 
 
 "So does wealth make some human beings swell," 
 reflected Crissey, "without adding anything to their 
 intrinsic worth." 
 
 He stood for some time looking up at the shelves, 
 his hands, still covered with the black gloves, thrust 
 into his trousers' pockets. Then he went upstairs, 
 took his tall hat, cane, and stick, and left the house. 
 The butler opened the front door for him and bowed 
 solemnly as he passed out. He had gone up the 
 street about a block, wrestling into his overcoat as 
 he walked, when he was hailed by Wilson, just 
 coming home in a hired cab. 
 
 "Hello !" cried that successful man ; "been up to 
 my house?" 
 
 "I am just coming from there," replied Crissey. 
 "I have paid my respects to your charming daugh-
 
 i 9 8 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 ter and no less charming wife and am now on my 
 way home." 
 
 "Did they treat you all right up there?" 
 
 "Beautifully. There was such a crowd, of 
 course, that I had but a moment to speak to your 
 wife and daughter. I congratulate you on your 
 beautiful home and and charming family." He 
 remembered that he had used the word charming 
 but a moment before, but could think of no 
 synonym. 
 
 "I'm sorry you didn't wait for me," said Wilson 
 cordially. "Detained by important business. 
 Won't you come back now ?" 
 
 "No, no, thank you. I am preparing a brief, and 
 I'm behind with it now. I must burn midnight oil 
 to-night. By the way, I did not have the time to 
 express as I should have liked my congratulations 
 to your wife and my good wishes to your daughter. 
 Will you convey to them my sentiments in fitting 
 words ?" 
 
 Mr. Wilson assured Crissey on this point, and the 
 latter again went on his way. But just as he was 
 boarding a West Side car he remembered that he 
 had left some important papers at his office, and he 
 went there in search of them. A letter was sticking 
 in the slot of his roll-top desk. He opened it 
 mechanically, but an exultant flush spread over his
 
 THE CORRECT MAN 199 
 
 cheeks before he had read it half through. It was 
 an offer from a great railroad company to retain 
 him as permanent counsel at a salary of ten thou- 
 sand dollars a year. This would not interfere with 
 his general practice, and he was to be paid his usual 
 fees when actually engaged upon cases for the com- 
 pany. 
 
 "I don't see why I can not accept this," He re- 
 flected. 
 
 He went home in a cab, and arrived in time for 
 supper. His wife met him at the door and helped 
 him off with his coat. 
 
 "You look fine, Edward !" she said, tightening the 
 knot of his white tie, which had slipped loose. 
 "There are some men wKo were just made to wear 
 good clothes and you are one of them. If I had 
 my way, you'd go down to the office every day just 
 like this." 
 
 "There, there!" he replied, patting her cheek, 
 "don't try to make a dude of me. By the way, I 
 didn't seem to be exactly in style to-day, after all." 
 
 "Not in style, Edward ? I can't see how anybody 
 could be dressed any better than you are at the 
 present moment." 
 
 "Nevertheless, all the men seemed to be wearing 
 prince-alberts. It may have been a fancy of mine, 
 but I thought they were all dressed alike, and I
 
 200 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 was different. I felt, too, as though Mrs. Wilson cast 
 a queer glance at me out of the corner of her eye. 
 Not that it makes the least difference in the world 
 and anyway, it was probably imagination. What 
 have you for supper? This cool weather makes 
 me as hungry as a bear." 
 
 "Cast a queer look at you?" cried Mrs. Crissey. 
 "You certainly are mistaken. She was glad enough 
 to get you into her house. If I thought you were 
 not mistaken, you should never darken her doors 
 again, even though she should come to me on bend- 
 ed knees !" Dolly threw her head back and her 
 gray eyes blazed. 
 
 "Where's Jim?" asked Mr. Crissey, casting his 
 eye down the table and hurriedly calling a mental 
 roll. 
 
 "Oh, he'll be here in a moment. Since you are 
 hungry, we won't wait for Jim. You can trust to 
 a boy's appetite to tell him pretty nearly when it's 
 supper time. Agnes and I went over to-day to look 
 at the new house," she added, as though the news 
 had been on her mind. 
 
 "It's perfectly elegant. It's a home!" declared 
 Aggie, tucking her napkin into her neck. 
 
 "No, not that way, not that way !" shrieked four- 
 year-old Dolly, as Lena attempted to tie her bib on.
 
 THE CORRECT MAN 201 
 
 "Dorothy," said the mother, "don't start that up 
 again. If you don't let Lena tie your bib on, you 
 can't have any currant jelly." 
 
 This threat, which the child knew was no- idle 
 one, had the desired quieting effect, as Mrs. Cris- 
 sey never made idle or extravagant threats to her 
 children. 
 
 "I ain't littler'n Aggie," grumbled Dolly, who 
 yearned with all her small heart to wear a big-folk's 
 napkin and tuck it about her own neck. "I'm just 
 ezzackelly as big as she is." 
 
 Her mother put her arm around the child. "Not 
 quite as big, darling. But ytfu soon will be." 
 
 "To-morrow ?" asked Dorothy. 
 
 "How are they getting on with the house?" in- 
 quired Edward. "Shall we be able to get into it by 
 the first of May?" 
 
 "Oh, they'll have it done long before that. It's a 
 beautiful house. Sometimes I'm afraid it's too 
 fine for us. Do you think we shall be able to keep 
 up the expenses?" Mrs. Crissey came of New 
 England ancestry. 
 
 "Of course," she added, "I can help Lena, and I 
 can get along with the one girl there as well as 
 here." 
 
 "I'm sometimes sorry," said Crissey, fumbling in
 
 202 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 his pocket for a letter, "that I did not buy a lot on 
 the Lake Shore Drive. That's the fashionable part 
 of the city. Here, Aggie, give this letter to mama." 
 
 There were tears in Dolly's eyes, as she finished 
 reading and laid the missive down by her plate. 
 
 "I don't understand how they got along without 
 you so long," she laughed, a little hysterically. 
 "Ten thousand a year!" It seemed to her the in- 
 come of a prince. It was fabulous. And yet, and 
 yet she must not allow herself to be betrayed into 
 extravagance. She would get along with Lena even 
 in the new house and with the large income. 
 
 The girl came and whispered something in Mrs. 
 Crissey's ear. The mother rose and hastened into 
 the kitchen, where she found Jim in a deplorable 
 state. One eye was black and swollen, his clothing 
 was torn, his nose was red; there was a stain of 
 dried blood on his shirt bosom, and an ugly-looking 
 scratch over his right eye. 
 
 "James, you've been fighting again !" gasped Mrs. 
 Crissey, sinking into a chair. "Aren't you ever 
 going to stop this horrible habit ? Why, James, you 
 promised your father you'd never fight again !" 
 
 "Don't tell father," pleaded the boy. "You 
 can lick me if you want, ma, but please don't tell 
 father." 
 
 "I shall Have to tell him, James. You'll disgrace
 
 THE CORRECT MAN 203 
 
 us all. You must be made to stop this dreadful 
 practice." And the little woman arose with a de- 
 termined air. Jim caught her sleeve and began to 
 talk with the rapidity of desperation. 
 
 "Ma, listen a minute, can't you? Tom Wiley, he 
 said my father was a boodler, an' that's how he got 
 the money to build our new house, an' I licked him, 
 an' then He took it back. An' then Jim Wiley he 
 come along, an' Tom said he wouldn't take nothin' 
 back, and then I licked the two of 'em, and they 
 ran away. That was this noon ; an' this evening 
 Walt Wiley was layin' for me, an' he said every- 
 body knew my father was a boodler, an' an' I'd 
 a made him take it back if a p'liceman hadn't a come 
 along." 
 
 "Why, Walter Wiley is a much bigger boy than 
 you," said Mrs. Crissey, "I am afraid he has hurt 
 you terribly." 
 
 "Ho," cried Jim. "Ho, po ! That's nothin' ! I 
 can stand punishment. There can't no boy call my 
 father a boodler, not if he's as big as John L. Sul- 
 livan." 
 
 "Lena," said Mrs. Crissey, as the servant came 
 out into the kitchen, "give James his supper out 
 here. And and it isn't necessary for Mr. Crissey 
 to know that he has come Home. I shouldn't like 
 his father to know that he had been fighting again.
 
 204 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 You will stop fighting, won't you, Jimmy? That's 
 mother's boy. Put some cold water on your eye. 
 Give James some pudding, Lena." 
 
 Jim had been through a hard afternoon, and he 
 had come home expecting further trials. This sud- 
 den let-down overcame him completely, and he 
 blubbered as he turned on the water at the sink. 
 When Mrs. Crissey returned she found little 
 Dorothy, who was precocious, explaining her most 
 recent Sunday-school lesson. 
 
 "They put Jesus on a cross," she went on, in a 
 high, sing-song tone, "and the rooster went cock-a- 
 doodle doo, cock-a-doodle doo, cock-a-doodle doo, 
 cock a " .t 
 
 "There, there, that will do!" said Mrs. Crissey. 
 "We all know how the rooster went. It's marvel- 
 ous, though, how much that child does absorb from 
 the things she hears. What did Peter do, Dolly?" 
 
 "Oh, he went out doors an' cried." 
 
 "What did he cry for?" asked the father curi- 
 ously. 
 
 " 'Cause he couldn't find the rooster !" 
 
 "I fear," laughed Crissey, "that the child is not 
 laying a very sound theological foundation." 
 
 He finished his meal in haste, as he happened to 
 think of the brief that was awaiting him in his study. 
 Suddenly becoming abstracted, he swallowed his
 
 THE CORRECT MAN 205 
 
 dessert without knowing what it was, arose, and 
 went to his work. 
 
 As he closed the door, he heard Dorothy, who had 
 taken quite an interest in theological matters of late, 
 shouting, "Jesus 'oves me, Jesus 'oves me oh, 
 mama, gimme some cake I"
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 ACCORDING TO SCHEDULE 
 
 Mr. Crissey accepted the proposition of the rail- 
 road company, and took his wife to the theater 
 to celebrate the event. It was the first time they 
 had been to the theater in years, and the little 
 woman enjoyed the treat immensely. When early 
 matrimonial life is a struggle, as had been the case 
 with the Crisseys, people are likely to get out of the 
 theater habit almost to forget that such a thing as 
 a theater exists. 
 
 During the intermission after the second act 
 Dorothy whispered to her husband. 
 
 "Wasn't that an afternoon call, that function at 
 the Wilsons'?" 
 
 "Well, yes," replied Edward; "it was certainly 
 in the afternoon. Why?" 
 
 She took his program from his lap and pointed 
 
 to the back. There he saw the advertisement of a 
 
 fashionable tailor, in tKe form of a schedule, or 
 
 table, headed: "What the Correctly Dressed Man 
 
 206
 
 ACCORDING TO SCHEDULE 207 
 
 Should Wear on Various Occasions." He studied 
 the thing carefully throughout the next act. A 
 part of it read as follows : 
 
 Occasion. 
 
 Coat. 
 
 Waistcoat. 
 
 Day Weddings, 
 Afternoon Calls, 
 Reception, Teas, and 
 Matinee. 
 
 Double 
 Breasted 
 Frock. 
 
 Double or Single 
 Breasted, same 
 Material as Coat, 
 White or Fancy. 
 
 Trousers. 
 
 Hat. 
 
 Shirt and Cuffs. 
 
 Striped or Check 
 Worsted, of 
 Subdued 
 Shade. 
 
 High Silk. 
 
 White with 
 Square Cuffs 
 Attached. 
 
 Collar. 
 
 Cravat. 
 
 Gloves. 
 
 Lap Front or Poke. 
 
 White or Light- 
 Tone Ascot or 
 Four-in-Hand. 
 
 White with 
 Self Backs. 
 
 Shoes. 
 
 Jewelry. 
 
 
 Patent Leather. 
 
 Iffiiff 1 ' 
 
 "I don't think I was mistaken about that queer 
 look in Mrs. Wilson's eye after all," he remarked 
 that night as he was undressing for bed. 
 
 "I'll see th'at you never make another mistake," 
 replied his wife grimly, laying the precious paper 
 away in a bureau drawer. "You'll have the eyes 
 of the world on you from now on, and there must 
 not be the least thing to criticize."
 
 208 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 "We must be looking for a theater program that 
 applies to your sex also," observed the husband. 
 
 "Oh, it doesn't make so much difference about 
 me, I can't go out in society while the children are 
 so small. Of course, if you should be made senator 
 or governor, I should need some dresses for official 
 receptions. But just now, I don't care to go into 
 society. Women's clothes are so expensive, too," 
 she sighed.
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 A CHAT WITH A CYNIC 
 
 One peculiarity of the city's climate consists in the 
 difficulty with which the two chief divisions of 
 the year, winter and summer, die. There are cold 
 days along in the fall which seem to presage the 
 immediate advent of winter, but the wiseacres are 
 pretty safe in saying, even in December, "We 
 shall have a warm spell yet." And so in the spring- 
 time ; one can never be sure that the backbone of 
 winter is broken. The old Frost King, like a surly 
 dog, retires for a distance as though going, only to 
 return again and again, and snarl and snarl. Snow- 
 flakes in May, mingling with the early blossoms, 
 are among the possibilities. One likes to regard 
 this tenacity of purpose as typical of the region and 
 the people; as related to that strong, determined 
 spirit which takes hold and will not let go, and 
 which scarcely recognizes the approach of death 
 as an obstacle to indomitable will. Indeed, it is 
 generally believed that there is a relation between 
 the climate and the character of a nation or a people.
 
 210 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 Indian summer, with a smile as sad and beautiful 
 as that of an exiled princess bidding farewell to her 
 faithful followers, has come. It is late Sunday 
 afternoon and the broad walk on the Lake front 
 near Nellie's flat is thronged. Nellie is seated with 
 the artist, and Harry is walking with Roth and his 
 wife. Grandpa Roth is wheeling a baby carriage in- 
 dustriously in the distance. The artist is showing 
 a side which Nellie has not seen before; for he has 
 for the moment forgotten his cynicism, and is car- 
 ried away by the beauty of the scene and the soft, 
 subtle allurements of the hour. The woman beside 
 him is so beautiful and so silent that she fits into 
 it all with perfect harmony. He is giving voice to 
 his impressions, and Nellie feels that a vague dream 
 is being realized. Here is indeed a taste of that 
 culture, that higher life, for which slie has yearned 
 so long. She is sitting by a real artist, and he is 
 talking to her as the women at the club have so 
 often, unsuccessfully, tried to make men talk. 
 
 Oh, if they could only hear him now, and know 
 that be was talking to her! Why will not poets 
 discuss poetry, musicians improvise, and artists give 
 voice to their beautiful conceptions, before admiring 
 throngs of women and under the glare of the electric 
 light, where their eyes can be seen? 
 
 Dare was getting old, and Nellie's charms ap-
 
 A CHAT WITH A CYNIC 211 
 
 pealed to him with tenfold force. The older a man 
 gets the more he idealizes tfie women who admire 
 him. He never becomes cynic enough in his sear 
 and yellow years to pick flaws in the fair hands 
 that bring him back his youth, as they might the 
 roses of a by-gone summer. 
 
 Nellie could not understand all that Dare said, 
 but that very fact flattered her. She meant to 
 grasp every precious sentence with an alert and 
 implacable memory; to write them all down, 
 and to look up the references. Dare took off his 
 broad hat from time to time as he talked, and ran 
 his long, white fingers through his hair. WHen he 
 pointed to the Lake or the horizon, he threw back 
 the cape of his cloak from his shoulder with a grace- 
 ful gesture just such a gesture as Nellie had 
 dreamed about in connection witfi artists. He was 
 looking his youngest to-day. 
 
 "There is something about a day of Indian sum- 
 mer such as this that reminds me of certain pas- 
 sages in the poets," he was saying. "An inde- 
 finable something which you feel but can not express 
 or explain; which is connected, it Has always 
 seemed to me, with tKe effect of sadness when com- 
 bined with beauty of form. TKe sadness may be 
 that of association. For instance, this day may not 
 be more beautiful than a day in June, but we seem
 
 212 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 to hear every breeze whispering, 'Farewell, fare- 
 well!' Every cricket chirps, 'Farewell, farewell!' 
 Every lingering bird trills it. There are certain 
 passages of poetry that must be read aloud if they 
 are to produce their full effect upon the mind 
 for sound has its form as well as things visible. I 
 have long ago forgotten the Greek I learned 
 in college, but I can not read aloud even now the 
 lament for the death of Daphnis in the first 'Idyll' 
 of Theocritus, or the farewell of Antigone in 
 Sophocles, without experiencing that feeling of 
 sadness combined with beauty. 
 
 "Perfection of form is the right thing in the right 
 place ; and so perfection of form in sound may arise 
 from the right word in the right place. But to get 
 the fullest effect, we must understand the meaning 
 of the words." 
 
 "How true that is," murmured Nellie. "Oh, I 
 realize that !" 
 
 The artist went on encouraged. A man of 
 artistic temperament will talk as far over the head 
 of a beautiful woman as the stars are above the 
 heads of potato blossoms; it is one of the highest 
 tributes paid to beauty. One feels as if it must 
 understand, since it is. 
 
 "The words may not have great meaning in them- 
 selves, but they are chosen by the poet for their as-
 
 A CHAT WITH A CYNIC 213 
 
 sociation with heart memories. This, I think, ac- 
 counts for much of the beauty of Shelley's tribute to 
 Keats, beginning, 'I mourn for Adonis ; he is dead.' 
 
 "Oh, isn't that a beautiful thing !" gasped Nellie, 
 mentally resolving to read it just as soon as she 
 could get hold of the book, and to commit a portion 
 of it to memory. 
 
 "Yes ; sad and beautiful," affirmed Dare. 
 
 "Oh, very, very sad!" sighed Nellie. 
 
 "But the best example of this sort of thing that I 
 remember in the whole range of literature," contin- 
 ued Dare, "is Tennyson's lines, beginning, Tears, 
 idle tears, I know not what they mean' -can you 
 recite them, Mrs. Chapin?" 
 
 "N no; I don't believe I could at this moment. 
 I have such a poor memory !" 
 
 "We are much alike in that respect," said Dare. 
 "We can sympathize with each other. They go 
 something like this : 
 
 "Tears* idle tears, I kn'ow not what they mean, 
 Tears from the 'depth of some divine despair 
 Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes, 
 In looking on the happy autumn fields, 
 And thinking of the days that are no more. 
 
 "There! I believe that is actually all I can re-
 
 214 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 member of it. Are you quite sure you can not go 
 on?" 
 
 Nellie repeated the five lines verbatim, in a 
 sweetly sentimental voice. 
 
 "No " she faltered ; "I that is all I know." 
 
 "You recite very feelingly," said Dare. "Your 
 voice lends itself to the sentiment perfectly. I 
 should like to hear you read the poem all through 
 on such an evening as this will be." 
 
 "I shall not have time before this evening," said 
 Nellie, "but I will have it learned before the next 
 time you come out to see me, I promise you." 
 
 Dare glanced down the walk. Harry and Roth 
 were going in the other direction. He leaned his 
 lips close to the fresh", rounded cheek of his com- 
 panion and hazarded: 
 
 "You're as kind as you are beautiful." 
 
 "Why, Mr. Dare ; you mustn't flatter." But the 
 cheek flushed maddeningly. 
 
 "You must get to work right away, for I shall 
 come soon, I warn you. That poem of Tennyson's," 
 he continued, "puts into words the very soul of an 
 Indian summer day like this, which makes us think 
 of our our lost youth though neither of us is old 
 enough," he interpolated hurriedly, "to feel them in 
 their full strength. Certainly you are not," he con- 
 cluded gallantly. "See those fluffy clouds, floating
 
 A CHAT WITH A CYNIC 215 
 
 high above the water," he continued ; "dark at the 
 bottom, woolly and sun-tinted above but I am 
 talking too much. The way to enjoy a scene like 
 this is in silence." 
 
 For a time they sat without speaking, during 
 which Nellie wondered if she could not get Dare's 
 consent to talk before the club exactly as he had 
 been talking to her. 
 
 "Let me see," she mused, "the subject should be, 
 'The Influence of Poetry on Art.' Or the influence 
 of some great poet on some great artist Tennyson, 
 for instance on on on" but she could not think 
 of any artist. At last a happy thought struck her. 
 "Why not on Mr. Dare himself?" 
 
 Just then Harry passed with Roth. 
 
 "When I get rich, Nell," he called cheerfully, "I 
 shall buy an automobile like that one yonder. Isn't 
 it a cracker- jack?" 
 
 She noted that his Sunday suit had a ready-made 
 air, and that there was nothing distinctive about 
 him. She classed him in her mind with shoe drum- 
 mers and drug clerks. What could such a man 
 talk about before a woman's club? 
 
 The balmy air, the movement of people, the bi- 
 cycles, the teams, the automobiles, made Harry feel 
 cheerful and like his old self. 
 
 "A day like this makes your husband think of
 
 216 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 automobiles," laughed Roth, "but I would a sailing 
 boat rather have, to sail away away to those loafely 
 pink clouds over yonder." 
 
 And they passed on. 
 
 "My husband associates with' such common peo- 
 ple," sighed Nellie. 
 
 "On the contrary," replied Dare, "the man seems 
 to have some poetry in him. Germans are apt to be 
 poetical or musical or something. And now he has 
 made a good suggestion. If we, you and I " but 
 he felt that he was on dangerous ground and fin- 
 ished with: "Do you like sailing, Mrs. Chapin?" 
 
 "Oh, I think it would be just delightful," she re- 
 plied, "if it were not so dangerous." 
 
 The artist became silent, and Nellie was suffi- 
 ciently imitative to follow the example. The beauty 
 of the scene, and the psychologic glow for even 
 souls have sex awakened by the beautiful woman 
 by his side, delighted and at the same time soothed 
 him. Even the existence of the husband, visually 
 evident in the distance, was not an inharmonious 
 element in the picture at the present stage of his 
 feelings. It added to the general impression of 
 peacefulness and liberty. 
 
 Along the horizon, for the Lake had a horizon 
 that day, were two or three steamers, trailing squat
 
 A CHAT WITH A CYNIC 217 
 
 feathers of black smoke. Above them were a few 
 parallel bars of cloud, slim as the fingers of a hand, 
 pink with the evening light. Nearer by were sev- 
 eral trim, white yachts, with the sun glinting on 
 their sails; and numerous little boats, scudding 
 along, and tipping to the breeze tiny triangular 
 patches of canvas. The calm Lake was the color of 
 lead near the shore, but green as a lawn farther 
 out. Frequent whiffs of wind darkened its surface 
 as when a child breathes on a mirror. Not far out 
 there was a flock of sea-gulls, sailing, wheeling and 
 tumbling, with frequent flashes of white as a wing 
 was turned toward the sun. 
 
 From the road behind could be heard the 
 trotting of horses and the whizz of automobiles. 
 Young couples strolled by, many of them girls not 
 yet out of short dresses, and boys who had recently 
 discarded rocking-horses for sweethearts. They 
 talked in unnaturally loud tones and sought isolated 
 places on the benches. Nearly all of the girls were 
 chewing gum ruminating like kine. A father and 
 mother sat down near Nellie and the artist, and 
 drew a baby carriage up within convenient reach. 
 
 The father took a boy of four years between his 
 knees and said : 
 
 "You've had cake ; you've had ice cream ; you've
 
 218 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 had cracker-jack; you've had everything that's nec- 
 essary. Stop teasing; stop right immejitly!" The 
 child began to cry. 
 
 Dare arose. "Matrimony is tKe prose of love," 
 he sighed. "Let's stroll." 
 
 "'Oh, Mr. Dare," giggled Nellie, "do you believe 
 that marriage is a failure?" 
 
 His cynical mood returned. "Success of mat- 
 rimony depends on such small things," he replied. 
 "Many a man's life is ruined just because his wife 
 has an unpleasant way of clearing her throat." 
 
 "Don't you like children?" asked Nellie. "I am 
 almost afraid I don't like them. They prevent a 
 woman's improving her mind. Now, my husband 
 is crazy about them." 
 
 Harry was at that moment taking the Roth baby 
 from the carriage and tossing it up and down. 
 
 "One should not hate young babies," drawled the 
 artist ; "they are nearly as interesting as puppies." 
 
 "How dreadful you are!" laughed Nellie; and 
 then added, remembering an expression which she 
 had often heard, but whose meaning she did not 
 quite understand : 
 
 "Do you believe in platonic affection, Mr. Dare ?" 
 
 "There are more fatherless children born of pla- 
 tonic affection than of any other kind." 
 
 Nellie determined to look up the meaning of "pla-
 
 A CHAT WITH A CYNIC 219 
 
 tonic." This reply did not harmonize with the 
 somewhat hazy impression which she had formed of 
 the subject. She blushed slightly at the uncom- 
 fortable thought that perhaps she had asked an im- 
 proper question. 
 
 "Some people claim that happy married life is 
 heaven," continued Dare reflectively. "No one dis- 
 putes that unhappy married life is hell." 
 
 "Oh!" gasped Nellie; "what strong language!" 
 
 "I beg your pardon, Mrs. Chapin. But I have no 
 doubt that the language is no stronger than the sub- 
 ject demands. Think over your friends," he con- 
 tinued ; "most of them are either just getting mar- 
 ried or just getting divorced. 
 
 "For a marriage to be happy," added Dare, "each 
 party must know all of the other's faults, and must 
 know whether or not he or she can put up with 
 them. I should think that a happy marriage, leav- 
 ing out the element of luck, could only be possible 
 after a long courtship say, twenty-five or thirty 
 years." 
 
 "But anybody would get sick of a person in that 
 length of time !" cried Nellie. 
 
 "Then they wouldn't marry. Were it not that 
 couples are apt to become odious to each other, the 
 institution of matrimony; would not be necessary."
 
 220 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD. 
 
 "Do you know it's almost six o'clock?" asked 
 Harry, coming up. "It's supper time." 
 
 "Are you hungry?" inquired Dare good-na- 
 turedly. 
 
 "Hungry as a bear. Won't you come home and 
 take pot-luck with us? Nell, what have you got 
 for supper?" 
 
 Nellie was so evidently embarrassed that Dare re- 
 fused, saying gracefully that he would be glad to 
 come some other time when he would not take 
 them so by surprise. 
 
 "It will give me an excuse for coming again," 
 he murmured, as he walked toward the house with 
 Mrs. Chapin, while Harry followed with the Roths. 
 
 "What a woman-hater you must be!" exclaimed 
 Nellie. 
 
 "I a woman-hater? One reason for my hating 
 matrimony is that it ah sometimes ties a beauti- 
 ful woman up so that ah another man has no 
 right to make love to her." 
 
 "Do you believe that people sometimes die for 
 love ?" 
 
 "Oh, yes, indeed. Between the people who are 
 dying for love, and those who are dying to get away 
 from their life partners, the coroner is kept pretty 
 prosperous."
 
 A CHAT WITH A CYNIC 221 
 
 "I do so wish you would talk on this subject be- 
 fore the club. I have been so interested !" 
 
 Dare laughed. 
 
 "I will come and talk to you as often as you will 
 let me, but never before the club. My limitations 
 include the inability to talk to more than one woman 
 at once, and even then she must be a good listener. 
 Among your many virtues I find that you possess 
 the golden gift of being a good listener !" 
 
 "Flattering again !" 
 
 "No, I assure you. The great stumbling block 
 of your charming sex, Mrs. Chapin, is fluency. Put 
 a shallow woman through school, and she simply 
 learns the names of more subjects to talk ignorantly 
 about. Now you, you never speak without having 
 something to say. Who is that unprepossessing 
 lady who just saluted you?" 
 
 "That? Why, that's our landlady the woman 
 who owns the house where we live. Why ?" 
 
 "Oh, nothing. Mere idle curiosity, sharpened 
 somewhat by Her peculiar style of beauty. She be- 
 longs to that class of women who look like wax 
 figures whose faces have melted and run a little." 
 
 Nellie was vastly amused. We do not love those 
 to whom it is necessary to make regular payments 
 of money, no matter how just the claim.
 
 222 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 "I should hate to have you down on me," she 
 laughed. "Wonder what you would say behind my 
 back?" 
 
 "I could never say anything truthfully, except 
 that you are the most beautiful and charming wom- 
 an I ever met." 
 
 "Why, Mr. Dare! And suppose my husband 
 should hear you ? He might think it funny to hear 
 you paying me such extravagant compliments." 
 
 "I wouldn't hurt his feelings for the world," whis- 
 pered Dare. "He seems a good sort. Though how 
 he ever won such a woman will always be a mystery 
 to me !" 
 
 "Let's all make up a party and go down to Ma'am 
 Galli's some night," cried Harry, coming up. "It's 
 the greatest macaroni joint in town. I suppose all 
 artists like macaroni and spaghetti and that sort of 
 thing?" 
 
 "Oh, yes; it's our natural food; we thrive on it 
 as the ancient Israelites did upon manna. I always 
 take a straight spaghetti diet for two weeks before 
 beginning a picture." 
 
 "You're stringin' me now," laughed Harry. 
 
 It did not occur to Nellie to be offended by any of 
 Dare's remarks derogatory to matrimony or to her 
 own sex. She was no champion of her sex or of 
 the marriage relation. She was, first of all, a hero
 
 A CHAT WITH A CYNIC 223 
 
 worshiper; and she believed that in the artist she 
 had found the real thing. 
 
 Dare ate his dinner at the Rienzi, and then walked 
 in the park to smoke his cigar. He strolled toward 
 the Lake, passing the very bench whereon Harry 
 had proposed to the girl with the red-gold hair. 
 
 "The world is divided into two kinds of fools," he 
 muttered as he reached the breakwater, "old fools 
 and young fools." 
 
 A few pairs of lovers were sitting on the benches, 
 at long distances apart. The maidens were lean- 
 ing fondly against their swains in sweet, primeval 
 surrender. The couples stopped talking as he 
 passed. 
 
 There was a one-third moon in the sky, and an 
 infinite, silver twinkling on the water, a pallor sad 
 as love's sad smile. Bicycle lamps, like will-o'-the- 
 wisps, went drifting by. A distant lighthouse 
 opened and closed its fiery eye, like a watch dog 
 half asleep. The silken skirts of the queen of lakes 
 rustled at the city's feet. 
 
 Dare sat down and smoked a while in silence. 
 
 "A man can't lie to himself about his age," he 
 grumbled. "Dare, you old fool, you'll be fifty in 
 three months." 
 
 He rose, stretched wearily, and sat down again. 
 
 "A man of my age grabs at a thing like this as a
 
 224 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 drowning man at a straw. It may be his last 
 chance. When the heart gets to work it shakes an 
 old carcass more violently than it does a young one. 
 Dry timber burns more fiercely than green." 
 
 As he reached the road an empty cab came by, 
 and he hailed it. 
 
 "I might induce her to go to Paris," he mused 
 as he settled himself on the seat and fumbled in his 
 pocket for a cigarette. "But then her husband 
 would get a divorce, and she'd bedevil me to marry 
 her." 
 
 And this thought troubled him.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 THE CITY FATHERS 
 
 If the city, with its stern, deep canons, its pall 
 of drifting smoke, its dark buildings, its titanic 
 roar, its pallid throngs hurrying hither and yon 
 like ghosts in the wan purlieus of hell, be justly 
 comparable to a capital of Dis, then the City Hall 
 is the one building which, more than all others, is 
 the palace of its king. For greed is the modern 
 Pluto, and upon one body which meets in the City 
 Hall are directed all the blandishments, all the 
 intrigue, all the influence of which the great god 
 Mammon is capable. 
 
 The city fathers are too often, like the evil one 
 himself, fathers of lies and iniquity. They are too 
 often chamberlains, spies, lackeys, of the king of 
 corruption. The Common Council has been in 
 times past, and may be again, nothing more than the 
 court of this ruler of American cities. 
 
 In appearance and situation, this building is well 
 fitted to play the role which we have ascribed to it. 
 225
 
 226 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 It is located in the very heart of feverish strife, 
 clamor, and pitiless ugliness. About its somber 
 battlements the smoke settles thickest, and trie 
 soot is coated upon it in scales. It radiates a 
 chill shadow as a vast block of ice might throw 
 off cold, and the blessed sunlight rarely penetrates 
 to the streets which surround it, even in the middle 
 of the day. It is the heaviest and most forbid- 
 ding structure on the whole earth, and reminds one 
 of a gigantic mausoleum, or a tremendous boulder 
 hurled there by Jove to keep a buried Saturn quiet 
 through countless ages. So gloomy is this struct- 
 ure, so thoroughly is darkness one of its attributes, 
 that the electric bulbs at the desks of the workers 
 make tiny points of light, as seen by the passer-by, 
 and their rays do not appear to penetrate the sur- 
 rounding gloom. 
 
 Roll the world back a few hundred years, and 
 one would surely find over the principal entrance 
 the motto, "Leave hope behind, all ye who enter 
 here." What chambers of horror can one not 
 imagine within such gloomy and mysterious walls ; 
 what hooded inquisitors ; what forgotten dungeons, 
 what underground passages, dank with dripping 
 moisture and leading to slow torture and unknown 
 deaths ! 
 
 Such dungeons and cells do not exist ; yet in one
 
 THE CITY FATHERS 227 
 
 room of this building has been enacted more in- 
 iquity than has ever before been crowded into an 
 equal amount of inclosed space. Men have de- 
 livered their souls here, after deliberately selling 
 them ; they have forsworn themselves ; they have 
 betrayed mankind as foully as ever did Judas. And 
 yet in the Senate chamber meet once a week the 
 men to whom are intrusted in great measure the 
 health of thousands of little children and of the 
 poor; the morals of a generation, its comfort, 
 safety and education; its physical and esthetic 
 welfare. One would suppose that the most ig- 
 norant and depraved atoms of a great common- 
 wealth, through the instinct of self-preservation 
 alone, would vote only for men of high char- 
 acter as members of this vital body. Alas ! some- 
 how, wolves that do not even take the trouble to 
 put on sheep's clothing often get into it with full 
 power to vote away the people's money. Incredible 
 as it may seem, even saloon-keepers have been found 
 there. Of late, thanks to the vigilance of the 
 Municipal League, a higher standard of character 
 has prevailed, and the elevating process, begun some 
 time ago, is still going on. 
 
 During Edward Crissey's incumbency of office, 
 however, things were about as bad as they well 
 could be, and the respectable element, of which he
 
 228 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 was the leader, was largely in the minority. "The 
 alderman business" was good. It was rumored that 
 as high as fifty thousand dollars had been offered 
 for votes by certain corporations, desiring long 
 extensions of franchise. Fifty thousand dollars is 
 a smart sum for a worthless, ignorant scalawag 
 with a genius for ward politics ; it means affluence 
 to a prognathous keeper of a levee dive. 
 
 Crissey heard no more of Murchison and tKe 
 telephone scheme for some time after the memorable 
 interview in the Magnate's office. The lawyer 
 knew, however, that the matter had not been 
 dropped, for the simple reason that men of Mur- 
 chison's stamp do not drop things. Mammon 
 works slowly, cautiously, but persistently. Setting 
 the lowest possible standard for humanity, and be- 
 lieving in man's weakness and ultimate depravity, 
 it keeps its emissaries continually on the alert, 
 casting tHeir lines with all the cunning of the most 
 skilful fisherman. And the genius of greed, like 
 any other manifestation of genius, knows how to 
 wait. If one body of men prove unavailable, it 
 looks into the future, and goes patiently about 
 securing more promising material. 
 
 But now the telephone ordinance has again 
 bobbed up. It has been referred to the appropriate 
 committee, and is likely to be brought to vote on
 
 THE CITY FATHERS 229 
 
 this very evening which finds Edward Crissey strid- 
 ing vigorously toward the City Hall. As he reaches 
 the corner of Madison Street, he is met by a little 
 man whom he has often seen about the building, 
 and whose clean-shaven, insignificant face he has 
 sometimes noticed in the visitors' gallery at the 
 Council meetings. He has never connected him 
 with any particular business there, but has thought 
 of him, when at all, as one of the people who take 
 an interest in legislative proceedings ; men who are 
 looking for cheap amusement, who are indirectly 
 interested in some ordinance, or whose friends are 
 to be benefited by the passage of some measure. 
 
 "Good evening, Alderman," says this little man, 
 pronouncing the magic work alderman with as 
 much reverence as though it had been senator; 
 "going to the Council ?" 
 
 "Yes ; just on my way," replied Crissey, with that 
 cordiality which made him so many friends. 
 
 "Believe I'll walk back with you," said the little 
 man, "if you'll permit me. I've nowhere else to go 
 this evening. Will there be a lively session, do 
 you think?" 
 
 "It all depends on what measures come up," re- 
 plied the alderman, "and and who's there." 
 
 "Yes, that's so. By the way, there's likely to be 
 a fight over that telephone matter. I'm glad now
 
 230 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 I thought of going back. They say Murchison is 
 using wads of money to carry his point." The 
 roar of the traffic was so great at this point that the 
 little man was obliged to dance along on tiptoe and 
 shout in his companion's ear. 
 
 "Indeed!" exclaimed Crissey, forging ahead and 
 not so mucK as looking down. 
 
 "Yes. A friend told me that he was offering as 
 high as ten thousand dollars apiece to scrub alder- 
 men, and that he would be willing to give more to 
 two or three of the leaders." 
 
 Crissey made no reply, but the faintest smile 
 imaginable, an amused smile, played for a brief 
 moment about his lips. 
 
 They entered the building together, and the little 
 man trotted along by his side. Just before they 
 reached the elevator, the latter remarked : 
 
 "That was probably a mistake about the ten thou- 
 sand dollars. I guess my friend was only joking." 
 
 "Very likely," grunted Crissey. He knew now 
 why this creature was a frequenter of the City Hall. 
 
 The alderman entered the Council chamber, took 
 his seat, and hung his overcoat on a projection 
 of the desk behind him. The honorable mayor, al- 
 ready in his chair, was lighting a long, black cigar ; 
 and the air of the room was opaque with tobacco 
 smoke. Several of the saloon-keeping "fathers"
 
 THE CITY FATHERS 231 
 
 were smoking their own goods, brought from dives 
 notorious for the vileness of their purveyance. 
 
 His Honor sat at a raised desk, beneath a great 
 eagle carved in wood, and bearing the motto, "State 
 Sovereignty." He was a handsome young man, 
 with a destiny and a mustache. The former was as 
 expansive as a horizon from which clouds are roll- 
 ing away; for it took in the State Capitol, and 
 sometimes even the White House flickered dimly 
 on its outer rim like a distant mirage. The latter 
 was jammed up under his nostrils in such a way 
 that it resembled those toy mustaches which fakirs 
 sell in the streets. His cheeks were red and boyish, 
 and there was about the configuration of his nose a 
 hint of that dish-faced effect which has marked a 
 whole line of American statesmen. 
 
 Two youths in the gallery were leaning over the 
 railing and pointing out the dignitaries below. 
 Members were strolling about and chatting with 
 one another, even though the meeting had already 
 been called to order. Crissey cast his eye over the 
 semi-circular row of seats behind him, and noticed 
 that there was a full attendance. 
 
 A representative of the Municipal League a 
 bright-eyed young man with a long, narrow face, 
 and a bald spot sprinkled with a sparse second 
 growth of fine hair, which he nervously rubbed
 
 232 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 every moment to see if it was still there stood 
 just below the mayor, and watched the proceedings 
 keenly. He held a long slip in his hand, a list of 
 the aldermen, and made a record of their votes on 
 every question. 
 
 The clerk, stationed at a lectern, was reading in 
 a monotonous sing-song from a pile of manuscripts 
 measures that were being submitted. He had cop- 
 ied the mayor's voice and expression to such a de- 
 gree that he seemed, as indeed he was, a mere echo 
 of that great man. At regular intervals the clerk 
 launched his voice into space, with always the same 
 intonations, and paused a moment while he took 
 breath. 
 
 "That permission be and hereby is granted for 
 a period of five years from the passage hereof to 
 the L. J. McCormick estate, to construct and main- 
 tain bay windows at the building on the southeast 
 corner of Madison and La Salle Streets, one of 
 said windows to be on the La Salle Street side " 
 
 He was a man transformed into a mere vocal 
 machine, as expressionless as an ossified man tell- 
 ing his story to an audience in a dime museum. As 
 he finished each manuscript, voices were heard from 
 various parts of the chamber: 
 
 "Publish." 
 
 "No ! No ! Don't want to publish."
 
 THE CITY FATHERS 233 
 
 "File." 
 
 "Refer to the Committee on Streets and Alleys 
 West." 
 
 "Finance! Finance!" 
 
 There was a continual murmur of talk. 
 
 Occasionally his Honor scratched a match and 
 relighted his cigar, which had a remarkable facility 
 for going out, or tapped on the desk with a gavel of 
 black wood and cried in a perfunctory tone, 
 
 "Aldermen will please take their seats." 
 
 One of the city fathers, an Irishman with a very 
 red face and the humorous gray eyes of his native 
 land, was as drunk as Father Noah. 
 
 "What is it?" he shouted, suddenly starting to 
 his feet and swaying about as he supported himself 
 by resting both hands on his desk. 
 
 "What is it, Alderman?" inquired his Honor, 
 looking up from a pile of papers. 
 
 "Well, I don't know what it is," replied the legis- 
 lator, scratching his head and gazing comically 
 about. 
 
 "The alderman had better go to sleep again," 
 muttered the mayor, loudly enough to be heard, a 
 recommendation which was promptly followed. 
 
 Later the same gentleman awoke again, and de- 
 manded fiercely : 
 
 "Wait a minute wait a minute. WHur's all this
 
 234 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 goan to be done? In the Sixt' war-rd? There's 
 so much done in Woodlawn an' the Sixt' war-rd 
 that we're gittin' tired of it. We'd like to know 
 whur it's goan to be done ?" 
 
 A voice: "Oh, all over the city." 
 
 "Not on your loife." 
 
 His Honor: "Order, gentlemen ; order." 
 
 When the measure prohibiting the sale of in- 
 toxicating liquors in closed rooms was put to vote, 
 this alderman awoke instinctively. He did not be- 
 come sober enough to make his great speech on the 
 motion, however, until a confrere had spoken, a 
 gentleman who resembled a Scotch divine, and was 
 known as the Old Gray Wolf. He rose limply, it 
 is true, but did not find his voice before the roll had 
 been called, and the voting nearly done. Then he 
 extended his hand and shouted again his favorite 
 expression: "Wait a minute wait a minute. 
 
 "You say it will close up every hotel in the city," 
 he began. "I say rather it will d-rive those poor 
 devils in there who feel the need of a dr-rink and 
 haven't the money to pay f'r a room. An' the man 
 who wishes to take his wife in f'r a dr-rink, or his 
 wife's frind er his frind's wife " Tumultuous 
 applause and laughter. 
 
 "Whativer alderman is not guilty," shouted the
 
 THE CITY FATHERS 235 
 
 orator, "let him hold up his hand. This ahrdinance 
 won't hold wather, annyway." 
 
 Voice: "It isn't meant to " 
 
 "Nur anny other liquid," concluded the orator, 
 collapsing. 
 
 Crissey was amused and slightly disgusted by 
 these proceedings, but took <no part in them, further 
 than to vote against the wine rooms. The next 
 thing in order of business was the telephone or- 
 dinance, which came up for a final reading at a late 
 hour. Its wording was brief, and it provided for 
 an extension of the existing company's charter for a 
 period of fifty years. 
 
 During its reading the chamber was a trifle more 
 noisy than usual, as though some matter of minor 
 importance were being introduced. The repre- 
 sentative of the Municipal League noticed, how- 
 ever, that the noise was being made entirely by the 
 less reputable element. The faithful were on the 
 alert. The measure was introduced by one of the 
 professional aldermen a member who had no other 
 visible means of support than his connection with 
 the chamber. He spoke quite fluently and spe- 
 ciously of the benefits to be derived by the people of 
 the city from this measure. It would put the com- 
 pany on a sounder financial basis and allow it to 
 float its bonds more easily. The plant could be im-
 
 236 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 proved in all its details ; necessary repairs be made, 
 and new appliances put in; more expensive and 
 therefore better operators and employees could be 
 secured ; and better service promised. Finally, the 
 company would be enabled, immediately or in the 
 near future, to make a lower rate for the public 
 telephones, a universal rate within the city, in fact, 
 of five cents. Several other members spoke briefly 
 to the same effect, and the emissary of the Municipal 
 League took down their names with great care. 
 
 Then Crissey arose, ran his fingers through his 
 white hair, thrust his hands into his pockets, and 
 addressed the chair. He spoke slowly and without 
 the least excitement. 
 
 "Your Honor," he said, "I have been twice of- 
 fered large sums of money to support this ordinance 
 once some time ago, and again to-night. I pre- 
 sume that the emissary of the company who ap- 
 proached me to-night was not aware that I had al- 
 ready been approached by his superiors, because 
 he ingenuously mentioned a sum much lower than 
 the value which I am supposed by those of larger 
 experience to possess." 
 
 When Crissey wished to be ironical he generally 
 became ponderous. 
 
 "I will not follow the example set by my confrere 
 on the left who made the eloquent speech on the
 
 THE CITY FATHERS 237 
 
 wine-room ordinance, and ask those who have been 
 approached similarly with myself to hold up their 
 right hands. I will only say that every man who 
 votes for this iniquitous measure, does so " 
 
 Cries of, "Stop! Stop!" "Call him to order!" 
 "Sit down!" "Don't you go too far!" "Hypo- 
 crite !" 
 
 But Crissey's voice swelled above the uproar, dis- 
 tinct and perfectly audible "does so with full 
 knowledge of the fact that I, at least, have 
 been offered a bribe. That I did not accept it 
 is evident from the fact that I am going to vote 
 against this iniquitous bill. We are already in the 
 power of the gas trust, and we are paying twice as 
 much as we ought for every foot of gas that we 
 burn. We are already in the power of the traction 
 trust, and we have the worst system of surface rail- 
 roads in the world. You know what will happen if 
 we put the people of this town in the hands of the 
 telephone company ; poorer service if possible, more 
 exasperating appliances, and perhaps, God knows, 
 even higher prices. If the thing should come up 
 again fifty years from now, the company would ask 
 for a hundred-year extension, and would be able 
 to pay aldermen one hundred thousand apiece for 
 their votes." 
 
 The eloquent Irishman jumped to his feet.
 
 238 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 "He's heard that br-bribes were bein' offered," 
 he cried, "and he's hot because none of 'em came his 
 way !" 
 
 "Sit down, you drunken loafer," commanded 
 Crissey. 
 
 "Don't yer call me a loafer, ye hypocr-rite !" and 
 he started for Crissey, but two or three of those 
 nearest to him seized him and forced him back into 
 his seat. 
 
 Serious violence was feared, as the enraged 
 Irishman was known to carry a knife, with which 
 he had once disemboweled an enemy in a saloon 
 brawl. Pandemonium reigned for several minutes, 
 and above the hubbub could be heard the steady 
 "tap, tap, tap" of his Honor's gavel. Order was at 
 last restored, and the motion was put. It was lost 
 by three votes.
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 THE HEART OF THE CYNIC 
 
 The artist was giving Nellie a French lesson one 
 morning in December. He had solved the problem 
 of regular visits by proposing bi-weekly conversa- 
 tional lessons, and she had jumped eagerly at this 
 opportunity for mental improvement. 
 
 "It's so kind of you," she gushed, "to think of 
 wasting your precious time on poor me ! I should 
 feel like a criminal. No one person has a right to 
 monopolize a great genius like you." 
 
 The artist winced a trifle at the extravagance and 
 directness of this praise ; there was so much of the 
 conventional woman's adoration for genius, real or 
 imaginary, in it. But he was an artist ; and the lips 
 that uttered the sentiment were pretty, and the big 
 hazel eyes, with the reddish gleam, had been very, 
 very serious. 
 
 "Oh, my own French is not any too good," he 
 replied. "I need a little practice, and I've no doubt 
 you speak as well as I do. No American ever 
 239
 
 240 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 learns real French anyway. The French spoken by 
 foreigners is a sort of Volapiik ; useful all over the 
 world, but it's not French. The wonder of the 
 whole matter is that the French themselves under- 
 stand it." 
 
 He found it necessary to begin with the simplest 
 sentences ; for Nellie's lessons, pursued now for 
 nearly two years with intermittent zeal, had re- 
 sulted only in the ability to say, "Bon jour," "Com- 
 ment vous portez-vous?" "Parlez-vous frangaisf" 
 and "Je ne vous comprends pas" 
 
 Her pronunciation, as the artist soon found, was 
 hopeless. Nellie quite prided herself on her pro- 
 nunciation, as her teacher at the Newberry gave 
 her considerable encouragement in this particular. 
 Nellie imagined, moreover, that though she could 
 not speak fluently, she could understand everything 
 that was said. 
 
 "I may miss a word now and then," she was in the 
 habit of explaining, "but I get the general sense 
 of it all, just the same as if it were English !" Like 
 the other women in the class, she usually had her 
 version of the lectures in French, and could tell 
 quite fluently what had been said. 
 
 The strange thing was that each member had a 
 widely different version, and that each confidently 
 believed that she had comprehended everything.
 
 THE HEART OF THE CYNIC 241 
 
 Heated discussions were the result, amounting 
 sometimes almost to quarrels. The teacher's chief 
 skill lay in the settling of these disputes, for he 
 possessed a way of apparently harmonizing the 
 numerous versions of his discourse and of making 
 each pupil think that he had said exactly what she 
 imagined. 
 
 "That's the funny thing about it," Nellie was ex- 
 plaining to Dare, as the two sat in her window that 
 December morning looking out over the Lake. "No 
 matter how fast any one talks, I can understand, 
 but I can not reply that is, of course, if they talk 
 good French." 
 
 She was dressed in a blue flannel waist, with 
 perpendicular bands of oriental trimming. She 
 had applied a little rouge judiciously to her cheeks, 
 and the blue of her waist added, by color effect, to 
 the richness and warmth of their glow. Dare had 
 felt chilly coming up on the car. 
 
 "Still, the only way to learn to converse is to talk 
 every opportunity that you get," he observed. "I 
 remember an experience of mine years ago, when I 
 >?as going from Brindisi to Rome by rail " 
 
 "OK, How delightful it must be to travel in those 
 foreign countries !" exclaimed Nellie, with a far- 
 away look in her eyes. 
 
 "This particular journey is about the most tedious
 
 242 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 on the face of the globe. Well, there was a mys- 
 terious, Frenchy-looking person in the compartment 
 with me dark, with waxed mustaches, sharp as 
 needles, and a pointed little beard " 
 
 "How interesting those foreigners are!" sighed 
 Nellie. 
 
 "We had been traveling for hours through the 
 flattest, hottest and dustiest landscape imaginable. 
 I grew dreadfully bored, and looked furtively at 
 my traveling companion many times. I was sure 
 he could speak French " 
 
 "Every educated person over there does." 
 
 "And I remembered my teacher's parting injunc- 
 tion to seize every opportunity to talk, talk, talk. 
 So I summoned up courage at last to say to him in 
 my best Ollendorfian, 'Parlez-vous frangais? He 
 smiled in the politest manner imaginable, moved 
 toward me and talked fluently for about five min- 
 utes, finishing with a question, as was evident from 
 his rising reflection. Of course, I didn't under- 
 stand a word, so I replied with the only other 
 sentence that I really knew that seemed appropriate, 
 'Je ne vous comprends pas.' He glared at me, and 
 moved suddenly to the other end of the seat. Every 
 few moments during the remainder of the journey 
 he looked at me out of the corner of his dark eye 
 in the most extraordinary manner. I don't know
 
 THE HEART OF THE CYNIC 243 
 
 whether he thought that I meant to insult him, or 
 whether he feared that I was a madman." 
 
 "OK, how perfectly dreadful that must have 
 been !" gasped Nellie. "I don't know wKat I should 
 have done. Maybe he talked too fast. Why 
 didn't you say to him, ' Paries ploo longtemong? 
 Je nee vous comprong pas?' Do you know " and 
 she leaned toward the artist as though she were 
 making a confession, "that sometimes even yet, 
 when they talk too fast, I can't follow them. Why, 
 you couldn't understand English if it were all run 
 together in one word. I went the other night to 
 hear Sarah Bernhardt. There was a Frenchman 
 came out before the play began and delivered a lect- 
 ure on Madame Bernhardt's art. He talked just 
 like this : 'Ng, ng, ng crrrr .' " The recollec- 
 tion made Nellie quite indignant. "All I could 
 understand was, ever so often, 'Sah-ah Behn-hah, 
 Sah-ah Behn-hah .' " 
 
 Dare had never heard her pronounce two French 
 words so perfectly before. 
 
 "I don't believe he spoke French very perfectly, 
 anyway," concluded Nellie. "He probably came 
 from one of the provinces. They say they have all 
 sorts of dialects over there. Of course, our teacher 
 gives us nothing but the pure Parisian." 
 
 "Well, let's get down to business," said Dare.
 
 244 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 "I'll tell you what we'll do. You read me some of 
 these sentences from the book, and I'll translate. 
 Then I'll read, and you can translate." 
 
 "Ahem!" complied Nellie. "Mong ongkle all 
 ung fil et oon feel." 
 
 "My uncle has one son and one daughter. But 
 pardon me; you must pronounce f-i-l-s, fees. It's 
 an exception, you know." 
 
 "Didn't I say fees?" asked Nellie sweetly. "It 
 was just a slip of the tongue. Of course I knew 
 better. Now the next sentence: Tai voo tong 
 frere et ta ser! " 
 
 "I have seen your brother and your sister." 
 
 "How perfectly you understand the French, Mr. 
 Dare ! You must feel right at home in Paree. Oh, 
 tell me about Paree! Isn't it a wonderful city? 
 There must be so many opportunities there to cul- 
 tivate one's mind!" 
 
 "I believe I'd rather be in Naples than anywhere 
 else at this moment," replied Dare, "except right 
 here ;" and his faded eyes looked long into the hazel 
 orbs bent so earnestly upon him, until she compre- 
 hended his meaning, blushed slightly, and looked 
 down. 
 
 "Tell me about Naples," she murmured. 
 
 Dare glanced out of the window. "This doesn't 
 remind one much of the Mediterranean," he sighed.
 
 THE HEART OF THE CYNIC 245 
 
 Nellie dropped the exercise book into her lap and 
 folded her hands over it. "Why not?" she asked. 
 
 "Well principally, because this body of water is 
 so unfriendly looking. Sails are so infrequent on 
 it, for instance. The Mediterranean is dotted so 
 thickly with sailing craft, flitting here and there, 
 that it seems to be inhabited. This Lake is wild, 
 lonely, savage. Moreover, it has no horizon as a 
 general thing, but ends abruptly in clouds, or smoke, 
 or mist. Now that scene out of the window has 
 something about it that reminds me of Dore or 
 Dante." 
 
 There lay a stretch of sand, patched with dead 
 grass and bristling with the stalks of last summer's 
 weeds; in the midst of it, one stunted tree, utterly 
 bare of leaves and strangely twisted by the winds. 
 The telegraph poles along the drive resembled a 
 row of heathen crosses. The air was a bluish-gray, 
 and the Lake as black as ink, save where, over its 
 vast surface, the oncoming waves whitened in long 
 windrows of foam. 
 
 Where the waves beat against the breakwater, 
 they leaped to an immense height, in fleeting watery 
 spirals or branching trees of spray, that bent in- 
 stantly shoreward and fell in rain upon the walk. 
 Two or three sea-gulls, wild and joyous, disported 
 above the turbulent waters, buoyant creatures of
 
 246 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 the wind. Their slightest wing-beats carried them 
 with far sweeps through the air, and there was 
 something magical in the way they took form from 
 the low clouds or were blotted out again. They 
 seemed to be tiny bits of cloud, blown loose, and 
 changed for a brief moment into birds. 
 
 "Naples," said the artist, and his voice took on 
 a tender note; "ah, if we were sitting now upon 
 the balcony of a little hotel upon the Posilfpo in 
 the balmy, dreamy air, with the sunny, light-hearted 
 city below us the ancient city of love and poetry 
 and with" the vineyards above us. Yonder is the 
 Bay of Naples, covered thick with sails, as light 
 and fleet as birds. What does Read say?" 
 
 "Opie Read?" asked Nellie. "Has he been to 
 Naples?" 
 
 "No ; the poet Read Buchanan Read : 
 
 "My soul to-day 
 
 Is far away, 
 Sailing the Vesuvian bay; 
 
 My winged boat, 
 
 *A bird afloat, 
 Swims round the purple peaks remote. 
 
 Round purple peaks 
 
 It sails, and seeks 
 Blue inlets and their crystal creeks. 
 
 Where high rocks throw throw
 
 ,THE HEART OF THE CYNIC 247 
 
 "I forget that stanza. I used to know the whole 
 thing by heart. But I can give the third stanza, 
 anyway. Let's see. Oh, yes 
 
 "Far, vague, and dim 
 
 The mountains swim; 
 While on Vesuvius' misty brim, 
 
 With outstretched hands, 
 
 The gray smoke stands 
 O'erlooking the volcanic lands." 
 
 "OH, isn't that lovely," sighed Nellie. "So so 
 soulful. 
 
 "Y es," replied tHe artist, "it does seem to 
 breathe the very spirit of the scene. And if we 
 lift our eyes from the bay, we see, sometimes float- 
 ing in the very sky, so blue are the waters, the 
 islands of Capri and Ischia. And the other side 
 of the bay is skirted with white, straggling vil- 
 lages, in any one of which a man might dream and 
 paint his life away. And we must not forget old 
 Vesuvius, lifting a huge black tree of smoke against 
 the sky by day, and its eternal torch by night. At 
 night, if we were sitting there together, sitting 
 there on our balcony, eh you and I, we should see 
 a festival, a carnival, of lights ; the street lamps, 
 running in parallel rpws 2 the lanterns flitting about
 
 248 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 on the bay, the groups and lines of lights where the 
 fishing villages are, and the great, red, fierce eye 
 of Vesuvius, high up against a black wall of night." 
 
 Nellie sat with her pretty mouth open, her eyes 
 glistening. 
 
 "Oh, how I should like to travel !" she murmured. 
 
 "Perhaps your husband will take you over to 
 Europe," suggested the artist, with a sickly smile. 
 "I should very much like to meet you over there. 
 I have about decided to go in the spring." 
 
 "Oh, I should so like to visit those scenes with 
 you, and just look at them while you talked! It 
 would seem as if the cities and mountains and all 
 those places, you know, were just telling me about 
 themselves !" 
 
 Dare's sallow cheeks flushed, and he slid eagerly 
 forward to the edge of his chair. 
 
 "But my husband could never go. Old Blodgett 
 goes away every summer, and he doesn't work half 
 as hard as Harry does." 
 
 "It is surprising how much oftener the heads of 
 any great firm need rest than their employees," ob- 
 served the artist, saved for the moment by the 
 shadow of his cynical self. "Old Blodgett," he re- 
 marked irrelevantly, "gives a great deal to charity, 
 doesn't he?"
 
 THE HEART OF THE CYNIC 249 
 
 "So they say," replied Nellie, "but I never actu- 
 ally heard of any one being helped by him." 
 
 "Perhaps he is following the scriptural injunc- 
 tion. Perhaps he gives his alms so secretly that not 
 even the poor find them out !" 
 
 Nellie laughed her explosive little laugh. De- 
 pendent people always enjoy jokes at the expense 
 of those whose bread they are eating. They can 
 not help feeling that it ought to be cake with mar- 
 malade. 
 
 Dare noted his advantage. 
 
 "Blodgett is one of those rich men who die, and 
 people say, 'What a long funeral !' " he added. 
 
 As he arose at last to go and put on his cloak, 
 he pointed out of the window, saying : 
 
 "See how the wind blows ! Notice that lone bi- 
 cyclist, beating against the wind, bent low over 
 his wheel. There, he has got off. He reminds 
 me of the last rose of summer affects me the same 
 way. And see that fat woman, sailing against the 
 wind. She walks fast, though. Did you ever ob- 
 serve, Mrs. Nellie excuse me, Mrs. Chapin that 
 fat women always walk fast? They do it to give 
 an idea of sprightliness." 
 
 "It's rather too warm for a sealskin," remarked 
 Nellie, with a slight tone of envy in her voice.
 
 250 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 "Oh, a woman never feels too warm in a real seal- 
 skin," replied Dare. 
 
 At the door he held Nellie's plump, unresisting 
 hand for two or three minutes, as he tried to think 
 of something else to say. 
 
 "Let's see," he remarked twice, "our next lesson 
 is Thursday morning." 
 
 And Nellie answered each time: 
 
 "We haven't studied much French this morning." 
 
 "That girl upstairs," he remarked, still holding 
 the hand and looking into the hazel eyes with an 
 expression entirely foreign to the sentiment on his 
 lips, "plays the piano according to Scripture." 
 
 "How so?" 
 
 "Her right hand doesn't know what her left hand 
 doeth." 
 
 "What a severe critic you are ! I'm glad I don't 
 play. I should be frightened to death to play for 
 you." 
 
 "Would you be frightened of me?" he asked ten- 
 derly, giving the hand a little squeeze. "Do I seem 
 so terrible to you ? Oh, hear that girl ! Musicians 
 are the only artists anyway that don't need any 
 brains." 
 
 "Do you think so? I ought to make a good 
 musician, then." 
 
 "Don't slander yourself so; I won't allow it,"
 
 THE HEART OF THE CYNIC 251 
 
 and, pulling her gently toward him, he attempt- 
 ed to kiss her. Nellie yielded for the briefest in- 
 stant, and her red-gold hair brushed against tiis 
 faded cheek. Then she suddenly recovered herself, 
 not angry, but frightened, all her early religious 
 training awakening like a sleeping watch-dog. 
 
 "You mustn't, you mustn't!" she gasped. "Oh, 
 how dangerous you are!" And she pushed him 
 away. 
 
 "Forgive me," he murmured. "I forgot my- 
 self." His throat was so dry that he could scarcely 
 speak. "Will you forgive me?" 
 
 "Will you promise never to forget yourself 
 again ?" 
 
 "On my word of honor." 
 
 "Then I forgive you. I believe you to be a gen- 
 tleman, and I so enjoy your society ! It is so so 
 improving to my mind." 
 
 "May I come next Thursday?" 
 
 "Since I have your promise." 
 
 "Good morning, Mrs. Chapin." 
 
 "Good morning, Mr. Dare." Nellie's voice was 
 very low, and she looked down. At the bottom of 
 the stairs Dare looked up. Nellie was standing at 
 the head of the flight. 
 
 "Bon jour," said the artist, lifting his hat. 
 
 "Bong jour," replied Nellie.
 
 252 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 At the corner Dare went into a saloon and took 
 a drink. He was trembling like a leaf. He sat 
 down at a table, ordered another drink, and re- 
 flected, while he allowed his nerves to quiet down 
 and his old heart to stop beating. 
 
 "This is dirty business," he mused. "That poor 
 devil of a husband has such confidence in me. But 
 then, there's no friend so true that he won't tempt 
 his friend's wife. Bah ! Am I getting supersti- 
 tious? What shall it profit a man if he lose the 
 whole world and find that he have no soul? Now 
 let me see, let me see. Am I getting all mixed up 
 with this woman, just because her hair is a reddish 
 brown, her eyes a reddish hazel, and she has a 
 figure like the Venus Anadyomene? No, I'm get- 
 ting mixed up with her because I can't stay away 
 from her, because she goes all through me, and be- 
 cause she likes me. She must have brains." 
 
 As he passed out of the saloon, he stopped a mo- 
 ment and looked in the plate-glass mirror of the 
 screen. His cheeks were flushed, and his eyes were 
 unnaturally bright. 
 
 "Dare, old boy, you're renewing your youth," he 
 soliloquized as he walked briskly down the street. 
 
 " 'How dangerous you are ! ' " he chuckled. "I'm 
 not one of those idiots who like everything good
 
 THE HEART OF THE CYNIC 253 
 
 except women." And he hummed a tune, in a fair 
 tenor, a trifle cracked : 
 
 "C'est man ami, rendez-le-moi, 
 J'ai son amour, il a ma foi!" 
 
 Nellie's hair was ruffled and she stepped to the 
 glass to rearrange it. Then, picking up the French 
 exercise book again, she mechanically turned its 
 pages as she reviewed mentally the conversation of 
 the morning, trying to recall all the bright things 
 that the artist had said. But all of a sudden, as 
 she chanced to glance out of the window at the 
 bleak winter prospect, one sentence of his came 
 into her mind, and she sat repeating it over and 
 over. 
 
 "He is going away in the spring; he is going 
 away in the spring."
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 A GERMAN CHRISTMAS 
 
 Nellie went away during the Christmas holidays 
 to spend a week with her father at the old home. 
 She asked Harry to accompany her. The thought 
 of a visit to the parental home made her feel un- 
 romantic. She had an instinctive desire to appear 
 before her family and her old neighbors in the 
 light of an efficient housewife, well married to a 
 devoted husband. She felt that there would be 
 a distinct triumph in this. She had left home to 
 become a shop-girl; she could return the wife of 
 a successful business man. She had in her mind's 
 eye two or three young ladies who would be made 
 sad by her success. She even planned the clothing 
 that she would buy for Harry as well as for herself. 
 
 But for once Harry asserted himself. He had a 
 secret horror that the old man might sometime come 
 to live with them, or at least make them a protract- 
 ed visit. He was not shrewd enough to perceive that 
 Nellie Herself was his surest defense against any 
 254
 
 A GERMAN CHRISTMAS 255 
 
 such tragedy. She would have died of mortification 
 had she been compelled to introduce the queer old 
 fanatic who had given her life, to the elegant and 
 cynical Mr. Dare. The letters which came from 
 time to time, advising Harry against tobacco, card- 
 playing and dancing, were no longer amusing. Mr. 
 Aikin evidently labored under the idea that his 
 daughter and son-in-law were leading "butterfly 
 lives," as he expressed it, one long whirl of careless, 
 godless gaiety. EacK letter made it more evident 
 that he thought it his duty to come on to Chicago 
 and straighten the young people out. 
 
 "When you begin really to enjoy a thing," he 
 wrote again and again, "then's the time to call a 
 halt. When you find your cigars tasting pretty 
 good, then stop and think." 
 
 Nellie wrote him that they had stopped card- 
 playing in the house, and the old gentleman de- 
 voted many pages of congratulation to the subject, 
 illustrating his thoughts with scriptural quotations. 
 As a matter of fact, Mrs. Chapin was too absorbed 
 in improving her mind to waste her evenings play- 
 ing cards with her husband, but she knew how to 
 manage her father. When he really set his head 
 upon gaining a victory over the powers of darkness, 
 it was necessary to let him have his way. 
 
 Concerning the dancing, it was not so easy to
 
 256 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 satisfy him, and there was actual danger of his 
 coming to them to make sure. He also wished 
 to pin Harry down, personally, as to his belief in 
 the lake of fire and brimstone. His son-in-law had 
 never given him a definite answer on this point, and 
 the old gentleman had prepared a vast array of 
 biblical quotations which he considered over- 
 whelming. 
 
 Harry refused to go with so much evident horror 
 that Nellie let him off with little urging. To her he 
 pleaded the impossibility of getting away, but to 
 himself he muttered : 
 
 "Not on your tintype ! I can't stand for the old 
 geezer ; I won't stand for him. He's the worst 
 ever. I didn't marry the whole family." 
 
 After Nellie was gone, Harry returned to the 
 flat and tried to imagine that he was single again. 
 The rooms, however, did not look homelike to him 
 in the light of reminiscence. His old tobacco stand 
 and the few relics of his bachelor days filled him 
 with melancholy. Wherever he turned he found 
 evidences that he was married. If he looked in a 
 closet to see if there was a little spare change in 
 another pair of trousers, he plunged into a dark 
 medley of feminine garments, and ten to one could 
 not even find the trousers. There was an illusive 
 smell of femininity about his bedroom which it
 
 A GERMAN CHRISTMAS 257 
 
 would have taken months to smoke out, and he was 
 constantly finding long, red-gold hairs clinging to 
 the furniture. In his bachelor days, the discovery 
 by his landlady of a long hair in his apartments 
 would have been subject for much good-natured 
 badinage. Now it was no joke. It was a matter 
 of course, a stern, unromantic reminder of the fact 
 that he was a married man with responsibilities. 
 
 Once, after lighting the gas over the table in the 
 parlor and becoming absorbed in George Ade's 
 "Doc Home," he went into the bedroom to look 
 for a match on the dresser, and he found a ring of 
 red-gold hair, one of those which his wife twisted 
 around Her finger when performing her toilet. The 
 hotel on State Street, with its vividly drawn char- 
 acters and the scenes that he knew so well, van- 
 ished in an instant, and his wife seemed to be in the 
 room, making her infinite preparations for bed. 
 
 So strongly did the voices of his lost youth call 
 to him that he would even have flirted with the 
 servant girl ; not from any definite evil motives, but 
 simply to gratify a certain craving for liberty which 
 God has planted in the human breast and which 
 becomes a noble impulse when well directed. 
 
 But that female was wrapped up, soul and body, 
 in the butcher's boy, and was taking advantage of 
 her mistress's absence to the fullest extent. Harry
 
 258 THE LONG T STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 heard loud squeals and deepjguffaws coming from 
 the kitchen long after he had gone to bed, and the 
 girl was red-eyed and disheveled ' by day. She 
 dumped his food on - the i table, either burned or 
 half-cooked, and disappeared, into '.the* rear, of the 
 house. During the progress v of ^eachj meal, 'it was 
 necessary for him to rise half aj dozen, times "and 
 make extended searches for the sal for a napkin, 
 for spoons. 
 
 Sometimes, when the guffaws were too annoy- 
 ing, he felt an impulse to invade the kitchen and 
 send her packing, but he remembered that Nellie 
 owed her for several weeks, and that it was almost 
 impossible to get a girl at any price. 
 
 He would have liked to spend his evenings down 
 town, take dinner at Ma'am Galli's or at St. Hu- 
 bert's Inn. But one must have five or ten dollars 
 in his pocket for a convivial evening at those places ; 
 and Harry had settled down to the steady daily 
 allowance of the married man on a small salary 
 his car fare to the office and back, thirty cents for 
 his lunch", and ten cents for a cigar. It was abso- 
 lutely necessary to limit the expenses this way, or 
 the butcher and baker and candlestick-maker, peo- 
 ple of immemorial greed, would have remained un- 
 satisfied. Every cent of his salary was accounted 
 for, and to take five dollars out of it any week
 
 A GERMAN CHRISTMAS 259 
 
 would be as impossible as to steal it from one of 
 Blodgett and Blodgett's commissions. 
 
 On Christmas Eve the Roths set up a Christmas 
 tree. Harry had been forewarned of the great 
 event and he practised the severest economy for 
 two weeks, even denying himself cigars, that he 
 might buy toys. He was more pinch'ed financially 
 during his wife's absence than when she was at 
 home, as he found little difference in the bills, and 
 she had taken numerous presents home with her to 
 her father and sisters. He lacked his wife's 
 aplomb, moreover, in the matter of putting off 
 creditors. When she was at home, he generally 
 managed to get out of the way when the doorbell 
 rang; and Nellie would dismiss the men with the 
 bills with' all the dignity and graciousness of a great 
 lady. Now that she was gone, the servant would 
 hunt him up, with, "There's a gintleman at the 
 dhoor to see ye," and h'e would look into the dark 
 hall, standing first on one leg and then on the other, 
 profoundly annoyed and embarrassed. If he had 
 any money in his pocket he always gave it over 
 without the least hesitation. As a single man, he 
 had taken pride in paying promptly and in giving 
 the impression that he was a man of substance. 
 
 He managed to scrape together three dollars for 
 Christmas gifts, and he got his money back ten
 
 260 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 times in childish joy as he wandered among the 
 crowded aisles of the department stores, looking for 
 things to buy Fritz, Bismarck Goethe and Frieda. 
 Not one should be forgotten. He would even get 
 some little thing for father and mother Roth, if 
 he could make his money stretch far enough. Yes, 
 old Roth', with his shaggy head and hairy face, 
 should not be forgotten. As he danced the three 
 silver dollars up and down in his pocket, he could 
 hear their faint jingling, and they rang a tender 
 chime of love and peace and good will to all the 
 world. The thousands of fathers and mothers buy- 
 ing happiness for a great army of little ones were 
 his comrades in a blessed fellowship. It seemed 
 that everybody on the good Lord's earth was en- 
 gaged in the holy work of bringing joy to those 
 who were most beloved. As the possibilities of his 
 three dollars expanded his heart outgrew them, and 
 its wounds were healed with the balm of Gilead. 
 He no longer begrudged the twenty dollars that he 
 had given for an ulster for the old fanatic father- 
 in-law. 
 
 "He's not such a bad lot after all," he thought, 
 as he looked over a menagerie of lilliputian ani- 
 mals, fuzzy and frail. "If he lived here, Nell and 
 I would invite him to dinner. A fellow ought to 
 get all his folks together at Christmas time."
 
 A GERMAN CHRISTMAS 261 
 
 He purchased some popcorn balls decorated with 
 tinsel, a stocking full of candy, a tiny Russian 
 poodle, an elephant, some little fuzzy chickens, two 
 packages of cracker- jack and a box at the end of a 
 string that made an infernal racket when you 
 whirled it. These things cost him, all told, ninety 
 cents and made a brave showing. He chuckled as 
 he looked at them and thought of the pleasure they 
 would bring to the little folks. 
 
 He took them home very secretly, slipping into 
 the house with them, and arranged them on his 
 bureau. 
 
 "Won't they show up on the Christmas tree, 
 though?" he laughed. "You'd think there was ten 
 dollars' worth of stuff there." 
 
 Every evening he arranged them in groups, try- 
 ing to decide how he should distribute them, but 
 could come to no satisfactory conclusion. At last 
 he resolved that he would get the mother to help 
 him in this important matter. 
 
 "If I should give something to one little kid that 
 he didn't care for, and the other wanted," he mused, 
 "I'd make one feel bad, and I shouldn't be doing 
 the other any good. I wish I had a kid of my own ; 
 then I'd know more about such things." 
 
 Sometimes the toys reminded him that his own
 
 262 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 home was childless, and then a sense of intolerable 
 loneliness came over him. 
 
 Finding something that seemed appropriate for 
 the older persons was not so easy, and he wandered 
 for many hours through the stores before he finally 
 came to a decision. For grandpa Roth he at last 
 selected a briar pipe, for which he paid fifty cents ; 
 and for Mr. and Mrs. Roth he .purchased a joint 
 gift a decorated beer stein, bearing the legend : 
 
 "Alte Thaler, junge Weiber 
 Sind die besten Zeitvertreiber." 
 
 One dollar and ten cents he paid for the stem; 
 and he was now confronted with the problem of 
 buying with fifty cents a gift for a young lady. He 
 was nearly reduced to despair, when a large assort- 
 ment of showy articles marked "Sterling Silver" 
 chanced to catch his eye. To his surprise, he found 
 the attached prices remarkably low, and Miss Eva- 
 lina became the prospective owner of a paper-knife 
 with a silver handle. He could not remember that 
 the young lady ever read anything, but many Christ- 
 mas presents are bought that are of little use to 
 their recipients. It is the good will which goes 
 with them that is the most precious thing in the 
 world.
 
 A. IGERMAN^ CHRISTMAS 263 
 
 Harry went to the flat above after dinner on 
 Christmas Eve and waited impatiently for the chil- 
 dren to go to bed. Fritz was old enough now to 
 understand that there was something in the air, 
 and he refused point blank to retire when eight 
 o'clock, his customary hour, struck. 
 
 "Old Santa Claus won't come near the house if 
 he happens to peek in and find you up yet," remon- 
 strated his mother. "He only brings things to 
 good boys." 
 
 "I don't care," pouted Fritz, edging behind a 
 big chair into a corner. 
 
 "I believe he suspects something," whispered 
 Mrs. Roth to Harry. 
 
 "He's on to us, I'll bet a hat," assented Harry. 
 
 "Fritz," said his father sternly, "you go right to 
 bed, or I'll " but his wife put her arm over his 
 shoulder and murmured, "Don't scold the boy, 
 Liebchen; 'tis Christmas Eve;" and he kissed her, 
 saying, "And the dear Christ child comes into our 
 hearts to-night, eh?" 
 
 "Let's pay no attention to him, and he'll get 
 sleepy," suggested the mother; and Roth, sitting 
 down at the piano, sang, "Just a Song at Twilight." 
 They all kept their eyes furtively fixed on the little 
 fellow, who wandered about the room for a few mo-
 
 264 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 ments, and two or three times stopped to look up 
 the shallow grate meant for hard coal. 
 
 "Get on to him," whispered Harry, poking grand- 
 pa Roth with his elbow. 
 
 Oh, poor little modern children ! peeping into gas 
 and coal grates and wondering early, so early in 
 your lives, how Santa Claus manages it. Your 
 fathers and grandfathers hung their stockings a-row 
 above a spacious fireplace, through which fancy 
 drove her reindeer teams for many and many a 
 happy year. God keep us all, His children, from 
 being disillusionized too early and too much ! 
 
 Grandpa Roth played softly a German lullaby, 
 and Fritz, standing by his mother's side, laid his 
 flaxen head in her lap and went to sleep. 
 
 She picked him up, big boy that he had grown to 
 be, with long limp legs dangling nearly to the floor, 
 and carried him off to bed. 
 
 "Didn't I told you so?" asked the old man tri- 
 umphantly, turning quickly upon the piano stool 
 and shaking his forefinger at the closed door. 
 "Music ah, the strong power of music!" 
 
 Harry went down and got his presents, and Roth 
 brought in the Christmas tree from the store-room 
 down in the basement. 
 
 "Let's set it in the window," suggested Harry, 
 pouring his gifts upon a sofa. "It'll look fine from
 
 A GERMAN CHRISTMAS 265 
 
 the street. Lots o' times, when I didn't have any 
 home of my own, I've wandered around on Christ- 
 mas looking at the trees in the windows. It did me 
 good to know that other folks were having them, 
 even if I wasn't." 
 
 "All right," said Roth, bringing a small table, 
 from which he had removed a large fancy lamp. 
 "In the window it shall be." 
 
 But his wife touched him on the arm, and said 
 with tears in her soft voice : 
 
 "Nein, mein Schatz. Think of the little children 
 who have no Christmas trees. They might see it 
 and feel bad." 
 
 So they put it up in the middle of the front par- 
 lor, and hung it with glass balls and with wax 
 angels, and they filled its green branches with tiny 
 candles. Wonderful indeed was the fruit which 
 began to grow upon that tree, fruit sown in the 
 soil of love and watered with the tears of joy : for 
 Fritz, a wagon, a tin sword, a whistle and a spring 
 gun ; and for Bismarck Goethe, a jack-in-a-box, a 
 big colored ball and a box of wooden soldiers. Har- 
 ry's contributions made a brave showing, and it was 
 with no little pride that he tied them on the tree. 
 Once, hearing a slight noise, as he thought, he tip- 
 toed to the bedroom door, opened it softly and 
 peeped in.
 
 266 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 "Sh all sleeping as tight as mice," he explained 
 in a stage whisper as he returned. "I thought that 
 young rascal was rubbering." 
 
 Harry had tied his gifts for the older people up 
 in neat packages and written their names on them. 
 They pretended not to see him as he hung up the 
 little bundles. 
 
 A rocking-horse and two or three paper boxes, 
 too large to be suspended from branches, were set 
 on the floor by the legs of the table. Then they lit 
 the candles, and went back to the bedroom door 
 to observe the effect from there. Old grandpa 
 Roth pronounced it "wunderschon;" and father 
 Roth cradled his wife's chin in his big pink Hand, 
 saying, "Won't that make the little ones to be 
 happy, eh?" 
 
 "What time do the little fellers wake up in the 
 morning ?" asked Harry, as he took his leave for the 
 night. 
 
 "They'll wake up pretty early to-morrow," 
 laughed Mrs. Roth. 
 
 "Don't you forget to call me," Ke admonished 
 earnestly; "I wouldn't miss it for a house and lot. 
 And say, don't you let them out of the bedroom 
 till I come up." 
 
 They promised him, and he returned to his lone- 
 ly home. He did not get to sleep until a late hour,
 
 A GERMAN CHRISTMAS 267 
 
 as Bridget was holding a soiree in the kitchen. 
 One of her guests had brought a harmonica, and 
 another a concertina. 
 
 He awoke early, nevertheless, in time to hear the 
 milkman go by on the walk below, with a rattling of 
 cans astonishing when one takes into consideration 
 his implements of noise. Mrs. Roth jumped out of 
 bed and ran to the back of the house with the one- 
 time stolen bottle in her mind. 
 
 "That'll wake 'em," cried Harry; and he was 
 right, for in a very short time Roth came down- 
 stairs and knocked at his door. 
 
 "You must excuse our appearance," he said, as he 
 led the way up the dark stairs. "My wife has had 
 no time her toilet to make. You shall help me to 
 light the candles," he announced, as they entered 
 the parlor. 
 
 Soon the wonderful tree was casting its soft 
 radiance over the dim room, for the curtains were 
 drawn, and the happy father knocked at the bed- 
 room door. There was a shout from within, and 
 Fritz broke forth and ran half-way to the tree in 
 his flannel pajamas, then stopped, his hands clasped, 
 his mouth open, gazing in wonder. Mrs. Roth 
 came next, somewhat disheveled, attired in a 
 morning wrapper. She was carrying Bismarck 
 Goethe in her arms. He gasped several times, and
 
 268 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 his eyes shone so they could be seen in the dark. 
 Unable at first to speak, he gave vent to his emotion 
 by repeating, "Ts, ts, ts," pointing with chubby 
 fingers. At last he shouted, "Santa Claus didn't 
 beget. Mama, Santa Claus didn't beget!" 
 
 Grandpa Roth distributed the gifts, reading the 
 names in a loud voice, with the aid of an enormous 
 pair of old-fashioned spectacles. Bismarck Goethe 
 interrupted frequently, shouting, "Oh, see the sick- 
 ens, see the sickens," for Harry's toy chickens had 
 taken his eye. Soon Fritz was riding the wooden 
 horse furiously, and his brother was seated on the 
 floor pulling the soldiers out of their box. 
 
 "Mr. Henry Chapin," called the old man, lifting 
 a large package from the table. 
 
 "That's my name," replied Harry ; "but see here, 
 now ; this is too much I I " 
 
 "Mr. and Mrs. Victor Roth !" proceeded the old 
 man, playfully shouting him down. Harry opened 
 his bundle, and found therein a gaudy smoking 
 jacket made and embroidered by Mrs. Roth's own 
 hands. 
 
 "This shall be a loafing cup," said Roth, standing 
 with his arm about his wife and holding up the beer- 
 mug, "and you shall with us to-day dine, and we 
 shall all drink from it German champagne." 
 
 There was a knock at the door.
 
 A GERMAN CHRISTMAS 269 
 
 "Maybe it's Santa Claus," cried Fritz, for the 
 moment freed of all doubt. 
 
 It was Harry's servant. 
 
 "The missus said I wuz to give ye this on Christ- 
 mas mornin'," she announced, handing Harry a 
 little package. 
 
 "It's a present from your wife," chorused Mr. 
 and Mrs. Roth ; "now the day is complete." Harry 
 received a flat package, tied with a pink ribbon, and 
 marked : 
 
 "For my dear husband." 
 
 He opened it and found one of Maeterlinck's 
 plays, done into English.
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 ANOTHER CALCULATION 
 
 Not long after Nellie's return, she consented 
 to go sleigh-riding with the Magnate, behind 
 his new team of blacks. To do her justice, she 
 accepted the invitation with some little misgiv- 
 ings as to tKe propriety, and even consulted her 
 husband on the matter. Harry felt flattered, and 
 told her to go along and enjoy herself. He had 
 no fears as to Murchison anyhow, as his estimate 
 of the Magnate's character was derived from Roth's 
 frequent expressions of admiration and gratitude. 
 The splendid blacks caused a great stir in the neigh- 
 borhood as they were driven up to the door with a 
 merry jingling of golden bells that ended in a sud- 
 den melodious crash as the horses were brought to 
 a stop. More than one gossip's face was pressed 
 to a window pane. 
 
 Nellie was at the window ready, and she came 
 tripping down the stairs, veiled, and wearing a 
 long automobile coat, with a fur collar about her 
 270
 
 ANOTHER CALCULATION 271 
 
 neck. Murchison threw back the lap-robe, she 
 stepped in ; and they were off with an unexpected 
 leap of the powerful team, which soon settled down 
 to a grand stride that made the fine snow smoke 
 about the cutter runners. The bells were chiming 
 now with a rhythmic cadence, and the silver-mounted 
 harness danced on the sleek, firm backs of the 
 glorious animals. 
 
 "I bought 'em of Jerry Fiske," explained Murchi- 
 son as they flew down the Lake Shore Drive. "Do 
 you know Jerry ?" 
 
 "I I have heard of him," prevaricated Nellie, 
 "but I do not know him personally." 
 
 "Board of Trade man what they call an eightK 
 chaser deals in fractions, you know, half, quarter, 
 three-eighths, even money. I knew Jerry when He 
 hadn't a cent. Came here from Kansas City, and 
 asked me for a job. I didn't give it to him. Now 
 Ke owns a fine stable of horses and a house on the 
 Lake Shore Drive." 
 
 "How interesting!" gasped Nellie. The horses 
 were going so fast that she could scarcely get her 
 breath. 
 
 "Tom Collins," observed Murchison; "do you 
 know Tom?" 
 
 "No, I never heard of him," replied Nellie truth- 
 fully. 
 
 '
 
 272 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 "His father was an old-timer ; made a million in 
 lumber, and built that big house just before you 
 come to the turn in the road up here. I'll show 
 it to you. Tom says that the white stocking on 
 the off horse's right hind-foot would be an eye- 
 sore to him. He says that if it wasn't for. that 
 they would be the most perfectly matched team he 
 ever saw." 
 
 Nellie leaned over the dashboard and looked. 
 
 "I don't see any stocking," she said. 
 
 "There it is," explained Murchison, laughing and 
 pointing with his whip. "I mean that bit of white 
 color on the hock. Steady, boys ; steady. Steady, 
 you rascals." 
 
 The nervous, high-strung animals, seeing the 
 motion of the whip, leaped forward with tremendous 
 bounds, and the light cutter tipped upon one runner 
 as it took the corner at the end of this part of 
 the drive. 
 
 "I met Tom the first time I was out with them," 
 continued the Magnate, still sawing on the reins. 
 "He was coming down the drive with his automo- 
 bile; and the rascals whirled square around with 
 me and ran for three miles before I could get them 
 under control again. Lucky I had them in the cutter 
 and not the carriage." 
 
 Nellie did not feel afraid. There was some-
 
 ANOTHER CALCULATION 273 
 
 thing in this forceful man's absolute confidence in 
 himself that left no doubt of his ability to manage 
 a team of horses. He was evidently used to having 
 his own way. They passed bumping over some 
 street-car tracks, and raced through a region of 
 wooden homes more or less pretentious and dis- 
 playing a medley of many and mixed styles of 
 architecture. In every vacant lot there were from 
 one to three "For Sale" signs, bearing the names of 
 prominent real estate dealers and many of them 
 announcing that easy terms would be given or that 
 money would be loaned for building. Soon they 
 had the Lake again on their right and a long row 
 of palaces on their left. Nellie looked admir- 
 ingly at these, and her companion told her the 
 names of their owners. Some were square and 
 solid-looking, with porches supported by severely 
 simple pillars ; some were constructed of rough 
 brown stones whose size and irregularity were sug- 
 gestive of a study of Mycenaean architecture ; others 
 were made of white glazed bricks ; and still others 
 were of pressed brownstone in front while the re- 
 maining portions were of cheap, common brick. 
 There was no unity or harmony in the general effect, 
 such as one sees in the show streets of foreign cities 
 whose people are of artistic temperament. The 
 whole drive testified to the independence of the
 
 274 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 great American mind, and to tKe power of money 
 gained and spent before the finer perceptions have 
 had time to develop. If there was any consensus 
 of opinion indicated anywhere, any expression of 
 a national spirit, it lay in the prevalence of towers 
 and turrets. But these did not contribute in the 
 least to harmony of effect, for they were of many 
 different designs, and were attached to structures 
 to which they seemed to have been glued on as an 
 afterthought. 
 
 Murchison explained to Nellie How the owners 
 of these expensive dwellings had made their money, 
 and it all seemed so easy. As the palaces slid by, 
 she heard the whole history of years of struggle, 
 phenomenal luck, Aladdin-like success, wolf-like 
 rapacity, dismissed in a few seconds. This had 
 been mines, that speculation, this pork, that rail- 
 roads, this contracts, that real estate. The resi- 
 dence of the "eighth-chaser" was as fine as any. 
 Nellie mentally computed that there were eight- 
 eighths to a dollar, and she wondered how many of 
 them a man would need to chase and capture before 
 he could live in such a house as that. Harry, she 
 reflected, must be very stupid to remain so poor 
 when he could acquire unlimited wealth by the sim- 
 ple process of chasing eighths. 
 : The horses were now swinging along at a steady
 
 ANOTHER CALCULATION 275 
 
 gait, curving tHeir necks and bodies gracefully as 
 they shied frequently to the right or the left. At 
 the rough places in the road the cutter bounded and 
 came down again with a sliding jolt. The motion 
 was most exhilarating, and Nellie began to feel 
 ravenously hungry. When they came at last to 
 a roadhouse several miles out, Murchison proposed 
 that they stop for refreshments, and she assented 
 without demur. 
 
 They took seats a a table in a large but well- 
 warmed room, the: only other occupants of which 
 were two women in sealskins, drinking cocktails. 
 
 This sight was rather a sKock to Nellie, whose 
 puritan instincts immediately bristled, and she 
 looked apprehensively about. The size of the room 
 and its publicity, However, reassured her. Murchi- 
 son, after much discussion with the waiter, ordered 
 munificently. He was indignant that there were 
 no prairie chickens, but consoled himself witK the 
 reflection that three-quarters of an hour would have 
 been required to get them ready. There was cham- 
 pagne on the ice, whicK was brought on imme- 
 diately, with the "little-necks." 
 
 "Of course," apologized the Magnate, after giv- 
 ing minute directions as to the chicken salad, "we 
 could not hope to get anything but an informal 
 lunch at this time of the day."
 
 276 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 "Do you see much of Mrs. Kimball-Smith," asked 
 Nellie, tasting her champagne daintily. 
 
 Murchison laughed, familiarly and caressingly 
 sipping the keen liquid from under his gray mus- 
 tache. 
 
 "I haven't looked her up," he replied. "I had 
 forgotten all about her. She isn't my style at all. 
 I like a more intelligent sort of woman ; and when 
 they combine beauty with intelligence" here he 
 fixed his shrewd eyes upon those of his companion 
 boldly and admiringly "I find myself entirely hors 
 de combat" 
 
 "Do you speak French, Mr. Murchison?" in- 
 quired Nellie eagerly. 
 
 "Oh, yes, a little. I am in Paris frequently. We 
 ah we are thinking of doing business over 
 there." 
 
 "Oh, how delightful ! I am studying French, 
 and I speak it very well. My accent, my teacher 
 says, is particularly good. Usually Americans can 
 not master the true Parisian accent. French, as 
 spoken by foreigners, is a sort of Volapuk. You 
 can get along with it in any part of the world. 
 Even the French themselves can understand it, 
 though, of course, it's not proper French at all." 
 
 "You ought to travel," observed the Magnate. 
 "A cultured woman like you needs only one thing
 
 ANOTHER CALCULATION 277 
 
 to make her perfect, so 'far as education is con- 
 cerned. Do you know, I fancy you must lead a 
 sort of lonely life. Your Husband is gone, of 
 course, all day, and he is interested in his business. 
 Why, I don't believe you even have companionship 
 of your own ah mental stature. Those club 
 women are none of them as bright as you are !" 
 
 "Now don't flatter." But she was secretly grati- 
 fied; for the opinion confirmed an idea of Nellie's, 
 long nurtured, that she had outgrown the little hero- 
 worshiping circle to which she belonged, and that 
 it was time for her to join one of the powerful wom- 
 an's clubs that were actually doing things one of 
 those she saw mentioned in the papers as discussing 
 such questions as, "What shall we do with our 
 aged?" "How shall we clean our streets?" "Are 
 men naturally carnivorous?" 
 
 "Take some more champagne," urged the Mag- 
 nate, attempting to replenish Nellie's glass, from 
 whicK she had sipped the least possible amount: 
 
 "Oh, my, no !" she cried, pulling her glass away 
 and covering it with her hand. "Why, my people 
 are all temperance. What would the folks out 
 home think of me if they saw me drinking wine? 
 It's dreadfully wicked, but I'm going to taste a 
 little of it, just for a lark." 
 
 "It will do you good," insisted the Magnate.
 
 278 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 "No? Not a drop more?" He was disappointed 
 that sHe did not take kindly to the champagne. 
 
 "I often think of you," he continued tenderly. 
 "Do you know, frankly, you are a magnificent wom- 
 an, fit to grace a palace. You ought to be moving 
 in the very best social circles. You should have 
 married a millionaire. It would be some satisfaction 
 to buy clothes for a woman like you. By God, 
 you'd look superb in full evening dress, brought 
 from Paris, with ropes of pearls or diamonds, or 
 something of that sort, about your neck! Take 
 some more champagne, Mrs. Chapin; it's perfectly 
 innocent." 
 
 "You you mustn't use such language," gasped 
 Nellie, strangely excited and carried away, despite 
 herself, by her companion's eloquence, and the pict- 
 ure of herself in a Paris gown, bedecked with dia- 
 monds and moving witK the stately step which she 
 so well knew, beneath the brilliance of electric 
 chandeliers. Her cheeks flushed, and her eyes 
 glistened. 
 
 "I beg your pardon," said the Magnate, "but I 
 can't control myself when I think of our society 
 women, and know that such a splendid creature as 
 you must be relegated to obscurity. Why, you'd 
 be the rage! Your intelligence, culture, and wit,
 
 ANOTHER CALCULATION 279 
 
 too, fit you for moving in the highest circles. Now 
 pardon me, but I'm so interested in you take some 
 more champagne no? I don't believe that you 
 have any companions of your own grade. Do you ? 
 I can change all that, if you'll put yourself under my 
 patronage." 
 
 "Oh, yes," replied Nellie, stiffening slightly ; "we 
 know " 
 
 "Now pray don't be offended. I wouldn't offend 
 you for the world. Please take this in the spirit in 
 which it is intended." 
 
 "Oh, I do ; I do. But really we know some of 
 the best people in the city. Senator Joseph Chapin 
 is my husband's uncle, and he calls on us when he 
 comes to town. Why, we dine nearly every Sun- 
 day at the Crisseys'. Alderman Crissey, you know. 
 He is one of our most famous lawyers. My hus- 
 band and he were school-fellows together. Do you 
 know Mr. Crissey, Mr. Murchison?" 
 
 The Magnate smiled in a sardonic way. "Yes, I 
 know him," he replied dryly. 
 
 "Don't you think he's a handsome man? All tHe 
 women of the club are just wild over him. He 
 looked so noble when he was lecturing to us the 
 other night." 
 
 "Here are the clams," observed tKe Magnate.
 
 2 8o THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 "Waiter, where's the tabasco sauce ? Eh ?" he asked 
 with a suggestion of a sneer, "are you also wild 
 over this paragon?" 
 
 Nellie, with a woman's quick instinct in such mat- 
 ters, divined that Murchison did not like Crissey. 
 She thought tHat the Magnate was jealous, and she 
 could not resist indulging in a little of woman's 
 natural sport. 
 
 "I think Mr. Crissey is a very Handsome man," 
 she replied, looking down. "So distinguished 
 looking." 
 
 "Umph, yes, very distinguished for a shyster 
 lawyer. And I suppose he reciprocates the ad- 
 miration has told you in his pompous way that you 
 are beautiful?" he asked brutally, spitefully spear- 
 ing a clam. 
 
 Nellie enjoyed this immensely. 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Crissey isn't at all pompous in sucK 
 matters," she replied equivocally, actually blushing 
 at the prevarication. \ 
 
 The Magnate's shrewd gray eyes contracted with 
 hate. A slight pallor crept over his face at the 
 thought that this man had again crossed his path, 
 and Ke was silent for some time. 
 
 But at last a happy thought struck him, and his 
 cheeks flushed with excitement. "I'll plow with 
 this heifer/' he said to himself contemptuously.
 
 ANOTHER CALCULATION 281 
 
 "Here's the salad at last," he cried cheerfully. 
 "Let me help you. There, that's a square deal." 
 
 "Oh, you've given me more than Half." 
 
 "No, just even Steven. Now let me fill your 
 wine glass just another sip witH tKe salad. It's 
 as innocent as cider." 
 
 The two women in sealskins passed out, looking 
 t>oldly and curiously at the Magnate and his com- 
 panion. They were matrons and stout. Their 
 faces were flushed, and one of them staggered a 
 little. As they disappeared through the door their 
 voices were heard unnaturally loud. Nellie shud- 
 dered and determined not to drink another drop. 
 
 "How would you like to work for my company?" 
 suddenly asked Murchison, leaning back in his chair 
 and regarding Nellie frankly. 
 
 "Work for your company?" she asked in much 
 wonderment. 
 
 "Certainly. Big pay, easy work. A sort of con- 
 fidential agent, you know. We need some one like 
 you. Every big company has such a woman in its 
 employ, when it can find one." 
 
 "WKat could I do?" 
 
 She was piqued, for the proposition suggested 
 type-writing or something of that nature. 
 
 "Will you regard this talk as confidential ?"
 
 '282 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 "Why certainly, if you wish it." 
 
 "I do wish it, for it is necessary for me to expose 
 to you some of the inmost secrets of our way of 
 doing business; and you may accept or not, as 
 you please. Though to tell you the truth, there is 
 scarcely a society woman in town who wouldn't 
 jump at what I am going to propose to you." 
 
 "I'll never breathe a word to any one," promised 
 Nellie, wKose curiosity was now thoroughly 
 aroused. 
 
 "Well, did you ever hear of a lobbyist ?" 
 
 "Ye-es, though I don't know exactly what they 
 do. Is it quite respectable?" 
 
 "Respectable? Why, in Europe and at Wash- 
 ington it's the sort of thing that princesses do." 
 
 "But I'm no princess, Mr. Murchison." 
 
 "No, you're a queen, and wittier and more 
 beautiful than any princess I ever saw. Let me 
 put a little more vinegar on your salad ; it's sort of 
 tasteless. There, see if that doesn't improve it. 
 Now let me explain wHat your first commission 
 would be. You can begin right here. We are 
 trying to get an extension of our telephone fran- 
 chise I'm interested in the telephone company, you 
 know. It rests with the board of aldermen to 
 grant us this. Now this man Crissey hates me, 
 and keeps voting against us for that reason. It's
 
 ANOTHER CALCULATION 283 
 
 a purely personal matter between him and me. 
 What I want you to do is to get him to vote for 
 us. If you succeed you'll be doing him a good 
 turn as well as us. We want to get on a sound 
 basis that will let us know where we are. Then 
 we'll feel like putting more money into the business 
 and can give the people better service and cheaper 
 rates. If we can get this extension, we can make 
 a five cent tariff for all public telephones immediate- 
 ly. To vote for this ordinance will be doing a pub- 
 lic service, and will make Crissey himself more 
 popular and will help him along politically. Do 
 you follow me?" 
 
 "Yes," answered Nellie. "But How I could make 
 him vote any way? He's a man with a mind of 
 his own." 
 
 "Oh, you know !" laughed Murchison. "Women 
 have ways of getting things especially when they 
 are as handsome as you are and when the man in 
 question knows that they are handsome." 
 
 Nellie's face suddenly flamed. 
 
 "I think I had better be going now," she said 
 huskily. 
 
 "No, no; sit down a moment. You don't Have 
 to compromise yourself in any way. A shrewd 
 woman like you knows how to be sweet and to get 
 a man to do anything she asks without actually
 
 284 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD, 
 
 compromising herself or even tarnishing her repu- 
 tation. Just get Crissey to be a little sweet on you, 
 and he'll do anything you want, for for hopes. 
 The hopes needn't materialize, you know," he 
 laughed. "What would you rather have than any- 
 thing else in the world? Just name your price, 
 and I'll see that you get it. Let me see; what 
 would you say to a trip to Europe for a year, all 
 expenses paid a liberal allowance? We were say- 
 ing a while ago that that's just what you need to 
 complete your education. You could live for six 
 months in Paris. You'd speak French like a native 
 when you returned." 
 
 The thought of Dare swooped down upon Nellie, 
 and she remembered that he was going away in 
 the spring. She grew faint for a moment with a 
 superhuman longing, and the bare room with its 
 wooden tables vanished from her consciousness; 
 in their places she saw the Bay of Naples, the fish- 
 ing villages where a man might paint and dream 
 for a life-time, and the purple islands of Capri and 
 Ischia. She heard again the words : 
 
 "And we must not forget old Vesuvius, lifting its 
 huge black tree of smoke against the sky by day, 
 and its eternal torch by night. And at night, if 
 we were sitting there together, you and I, on our 
 balcony, we should see a festival, a carnival of
 
 ANOTHER CALCULATION 285 
 
 lights; the street lamps, running in parallel rows, 
 the lanterns flitting about on the bay, the groups 
 and lines of lights where the fishing villages are " 
 
 Harry was so slangy and cared so little for the 
 higher life! Besides, she would not do anything 
 really bad. She would leave him his whole salary 
 to enjoy himself with in his own way, and would 
 come back to him at the end of the year. 
 
 "Do you think I could do it ?" she faltered. "Do 
 you really think I am smart enough?" 
 
 "Doit? The easiest in the world ! Do it; and 
 benefit everybody, and not hurt yourself." 
 
 "Will you give me full directions as to the best 
 way ?" 
 
 "We'll talk it all over together before you begin. 
 I'll study on it to-night, and we'll hold a conference 
 in my office to-morrow. We'll help you in every 
 way we can, in this and all other commissions that 
 you may undertake for us." 
 
 When they drove home, the shadows of the early 
 winter night had already fallen over the city, and the 
 electric lights were shining on the snow with a white 
 and dazzling brilliancy. Sparks sputtered beneath 
 the wheels of the trolley-cars like phosphorus 
 around the prow of a moving ship, and the over- 
 head wires twinkled with a line of evanescent stars. 
 
 Murchison delighted a church committee the next
 
 286 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 morning by replying to their begging letter with 
 a hundred-dollar check, thereby confirming the im- 
 pression that his private charities gave the lie to all 
 rumors derogatory to his reputation. And he 
 chuckled as he told his lawyer that he Kad at last 
 got Crissey on the run. "I've found his weak 
 spot," he laughed. "I've got him mixed up with a 
 woman, and it'll develop into a scandal, sure, if he 
 don't listen to reason."
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 A RIFT WITHIN THE LUTE 
 
 "Are the Chapins coming to dinner every Sun- 
 day all the rest of our lives?" asked Dolly Crissey. 
 There was a petulant note in her voice, and she did 
 not fix her eyes on her husband with that level, 
 fearless glance so characteristic of her. She felt 
 spiteful, and she was ashamed of herself for feeling 
 so. She would not admit that there was a suspicion 
 in her mind regarding her husband, for she had no 
 just cause for suspicion. Besides, her own mind 
 was so ingenuous and innocent that she had the 
 greatest scorn of anything that smacked of deceit. 
 That she was annoyed, and did not care to tell her 
 husband why, made her all the more uncomfortable. 
 She was tired, moreover, and, like all tired women, 
 she imagined herself unattractive. 
 
 A woman, like a cat, needs a certain amount of 
 stroking to make her purr. Rub her persistently 
 the wrong way, with never so good intentions, and 
 the nervous electricity in her accumulates, and she 
 becomes spiteful. 
 
 287
 
 288 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 "Why, no, my dear," laughed Crissey, "though 
 they have been here a good deal lately, haven't 
 they?" 
 
 "Yes; you seem to derive great pleasure from 
 their society. Oh, I'm so tired to-night that my 
 legs will Hardly hold me up. The children have 
 been perfect little demons all day." And she sank 
 into a chair with a sigh. The tiny blotch of white 
 hair fell down before her eyes, and she pulled it out 
 straight and looked at it, wrinkling her forehead 
 that she might the better raise her lids. 
 
 "I'm getting gray as a rat," slie observed. "If I 
 were red-Keaded, now, like Mrs. Chapin how is 
 that, Edward; do red-headed persons grow gray 
 early ?" 
 
 Crissey turned sharply about from the mirror 
 and looked at her. He was dressing for a dinner 
 at the Fellow-craft Club, one of those stag organ- 
 izations that dine ever so often and are entertained 
 by their guests, actors and others who can be in- 
 duced to tell a story or sing a song in return for 
 dinner. 
 
 Crissey had accepted this invitation because he 
 was seeking every legitimate opportunity to extend 
 his popularity. 
 
 "You're all out of sorts to-night, Dolly," he said, 
 kindly. "If I Hadn't positively promised to respond
 
 A RIFT WITHIN THE LUTE 289 
 
 to a toast I wouldn't go and leave you alone. What 
 is the matter, little woman? Don't you feel well?" 
 
 "Oh, don't stop at home on my account," she re- 
 plied. "I never see you any more anyway, and 
 one evening more or less won't make any differ- 
 ence." 
 
 "This isn't like you, Dolly," said Crissey, arrang- 
 ing his black necktie. "You must be kind of run 
 down and nervous. Don't you think you need a 
 tonic?" 
 
 "I guess I'm just bored, that's all. But don't 
 mind about me." 
 : Crissey struggled into his dinner coat. 
 
 "I'm a guilty wretch'," he admitted, "and I do 
 neglect you. But it's as much for your sake and 
 that of the children as for my own. Half the time 
 I'd rather be at home here with you and the little 
 ones, but politics is a jealous mistress. I'm going 
 to Congress next fall, sure thing, Dolly, and you 
 are going with me. Am I all right?" he laughed, 
 leaning with his back against the bureau, his hands 
 upon it. "Black tie, gold studs, everything? 
 Hadn't we better get out the theater program 
 again ?" 
 
 She sighed. He was certainly the handsomest 
 man in all the world, and sfie felt old and ugly. 
 
 "What did that Chapin woman want of you last
 
 290 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 Sunday," she asked, "tittering and giggling there 
 in the library so long?" 
 
 "Want of me? Why, nothing, I guess. She 
 always wants to talk about books. Why didn't 
 you come in? I wish you wouldn't let her corner 
 me and then bore me by enthusing about books 
 which she knows nothing about." 
 
 "You didn't look very weary when I saw you; 
 you were sitting there together like two birds in a 
 nest, both deeply absorbed, I assure you." 
 
 "Why, Dolly, this is positively preposterous. If 
 you are jealous, now, it will be for the first time in 
 our married life, and over the least likely person 
 in the whole world." 
 
 "Why did she titter so then and look at you so 
 languishingly ?" 
 
 "Come to think of it, tKe woman did act queer," 
 admitted Crissey. "But she's just a silly woman, 
 you know." 
 
 "She's in love with you, that's what's the matter," 
 said Dolly on the verge of tears. "Why, Mrs. 
 Mallock was telling me yesterday about the Cra- 
 mers. That deceitful little cat, Eva Sutherland, 
 Mrs. Cramer's most intimate friend, came into her 
 house and took away her husband under her very 
 nose. Edward," and rising she looked at him
 
 A RIFT WITHIN THE LUTE 291 
 
 solemnly, "if any woman did that to me, I'd kill 
 her!" 
 
 "By Jove, I believe you would," said Crissey, re- 
 garding her admiringly. "I shouldn't wonder if 
 Jim got his fighting qualities from you after all. 
 But you're setting up a straw woman, Dolly. 
 Pshaw ! It's too foolish to think about. I couldn't 
 afford to get mixed up with any woman just now, 
 even if I wanted to. Wait till you are strutting 
 about the streets of Washington on tKe arm of 
 Congressman Crissey, and you'll wonder how you 
 could have been such a little goose." 
 
 "She's such" a handsome woman, and you and 
 she make such a fine couple together," pouted Dolly. 
 
 "Pshaw! She'll never get a chance to look any 
 way with me. You mustn't distract me this way, 
 little woman. I invite the Chapins because I like 
 Harry. He's not brilliant like his uncle, the sena- 
 tor, but he's true blue, the best-hearted fellow in 
 the world. He went to school with me in the coun- 
 try when we were boys. I'm sorry for him, too. 
 He made a mistake in marrying that silly, selfish 
 woman, and I've fancied of late that he didn't seem 
 quite happy. But if you are sure that you have 
 noticed anything queer in " 
 
 "You're tKe best fellow in tKe world," cried
 
 292 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 Dolly impulsively, pacified as much by the con- 
 temptuous epithets applied to Mrs. Chapin as by 
 the explanation. "I'm a little out of sorts, I guess. 
 But you know, yourself, that I never see you any 
 more." 
 
 "We'll have an evening all to ourselves this very 
 week," promised the alderman. "We'll go to the 
 theater I'll see about the tickets the first thing 
 to-morrow. By Jove!" looking at his watch, "do 
 you know what time it is?" And stepping to the 
 hall he took down his Kat and coat from the nail. 
 "I'll be late." Then, coming back for a moment, 
 with the idea of cheering up his wife : 
 
 "This reminds me of a story that I read some 
 time ago in one of the comic papers," he laughed, 
 "about a little boy who asked his mother who the 
 strange man was that spanked him. It was his 
 father, don't you see? He came home so seldom 
 during the daytime that " 
 
 Dolly smiled, sadly. 
 
 "Oh, you needn't furnish a diagram. I under- 
 stand it without the least explanation. It doesn't 
 seem at all funny to me." 
 
 Crissey kissed Her. "Brace up, little woman. 
 Don't cry over imaginary troubles." 
 
 She followed him to the door and called after 
 him:
 
 A RIFT WITHIN THE LUTE 293 
 
 "Look in a glass before you go in, and see 
 that your necktie isn't twisted around under your 
 ear." 
 
 As she turned back into the house, sh'e heard the 
 shrill voices of Dorothy and Agnes Matilda from 
 the bedroom, as though quarreling. 
 
 "My goodness," she exclaimed; "there's th'e chil- 
 dren waked up !" and she ran in to them. 
 
 Dorothy was sitting up in bed in her little white 
 "nighty," and she fairly shrieked as soon as she saw 
 her mother: 
 
 "Isn't to-day to-morrow, mama?" and Agnes, 
 annoyed at being disturbed, was mocking her by 
 repeating, "Isn't it, 'tisn't it ?" 
 
 Mrs. Crissey sat on the edge of the bed and said, 
 tenderly: "Lie "down like a good girl and go to 
 sleep, and when you wake up in the morning it will 
 be to-morrow." 
 
 She well knew that in the morning the little one 
 would ask as soon as she was fairly awake, "Is it 
 to-morrow yet, mama?" for her small mind had 
 been pursuing this difficult question for about a 
 week now ; but she saw no better way than to put 
 the child off from day to day, till the truth dawned 
 upon her. 
 
 "Will you sleep with me, mama? Will you sleep 
 with me?"
 
 294 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 "Yes, if you go right to sleep. I did put you 
 to sleep once." 
 
 The baby snuggle'd down beside her sister and lay 
 perfectly quiet for twenty minutes. Just as Mrs. 
 Crissey was thinking of rising and stealing from 
 the room, a small voice asked in perfect wakeful- 
 ness: 
 
 "How time it is ? Seben o'clock ?"
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 PRIMITIVE METHODS 
 
 Kickham GorHam, the tall, stoop-shouldered, 
 blond young man who had read law with Crissey 
 for many years, and who of late had been practis- 
 ing in the justice courts, was at last admitted into 
 partnership. On the outer windows of the offices 
 were inscribed the letters, "Crissey and Gorham, 
 Attorneys at Law," and the young man was in the 
 Kabit of walking slowly past on the other side of 
 the street that he might read the sign, high up, and 
 enjoy the visible evidence of his triumph. On the 
 door opening into the main hall one read the names : 
 
 EDWARD CRISSEY 
 KICKHAM GORHAM 
 ATTORNEYS AND COUNSELLORS 
 AT LAW. 
 
 If you opened this, an anemic young man with 
 tousled hair looked up from a typewriter and 
 asked whom you wished to see. Here was the
 
 296 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 general reception-room, whose only other furnish- 
 ing consisted of a metal water-tank marked, "Wau- 
 kesha," a cane-bottom chair, and a bench along the 
 wall. 
 
 Offices had been walled off by means of an 
 opaque glass screen rising half-way to the ceiling. 
 The first and most accessible of these was occupied 
 by Mr. Kickham Gorham, the second by Mr. Ed- 
 ward Crissey. 
 
 One evening about a week after the dinner at the 
 Fellow-craft Club, Crissey was sitting in bis office, 
 much mystified. He had received a letter from 
 Mrs. Chapin, asking him to give her an appoint- 
 ment at eight o'clock in the evening, as she wished 
 to talk with him on important matters. His first 
 impulse had been to ignore the request, as he could 
 not think of any possible business which she could 
 have with him. A chance thought caused him to 
 reconsider the decision. 
 
 "Trouble with her husband," he mused, as he 
 thumbed the pages of an important case. "She's 
 tired of slow-going, prosaic old Harry, and wants 
 to get a divorce. Perhaps some rich man Has 
 turned her head. Huh ! he's worth a dozen of her. 
 I'll give her a talking to that will do her good." 
 
 He was smoking a cigar and reading his notes
 
 PRIMITIVE METHODS 297 
 
 by an electric bulb with a green tin cover, wKen 
 Nellie opened the door and entered. 
 
 "Good evening, Mr. Crissey," she faltered; and 
 then she giggled timidly : "Why, how dark it is in 
 here!" 
 
 "Good evening, Madam. I'll turn on tKe lights 
 in the chandelier immediately," and he arose to suit 
 the action to the word. 
 
 "No, no," said Nellie, laying her hand on his 
 arm. "It's quite light enough to talk by, and I 
 feel nervous coming all alone to a man's office. I 
 I never did such a thing before in my life. There 
 might be somebody across the street that knew me. 
 You never can tell when you'll be recognized in a 
 city like this. I'm just sure that elevator man 
 knew who I was." 
 
 "As you please, Madam," replied the lawyer, 
 placing a chair near his desk. "Won't you be 
 seated ?" 
 
 Nellie took the proffered chair, and, removing 
 the glove from her right hand, fumbled with the 
 knot of her veil. 
 
 "Won't you untie my veil?" she asked after a 
 moment, turning partly around and bending her 
 neck. "It has got into such a hard knot." 
 
 "Does your veil interfere with conversation?"
 
 298 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 asked the lawyer dryly, not making the least 
 move. 
 
 "Yes," sHe tittered. "It's wet, and it keeps get- 
 ting into my mouth." 
 
 He arose, and leaning gallantly over her, with 
 the hackneyed words, "Permit me, Madam," per- 
 formed the desired service. His trained legal in- 
 tellect, keen for detail, did not fail to note that the 
 knot was very easy and yielded to the first touch 
 of his clumsy fingers. He handed her the veil with 
 a courteous bow and resumed his seat. 
 
 "How cleverly you did it," laughed Nellie. "You 
 must be used to such things. Because you're a 
 married man, I suppose !" 
 
 "Can it be possible?" reflected Crissey, glancing 
 nervously at the cluster of electric bulbs above his 
 head. "Is Dolly right, after all?" 
 
 The woman filled tKe room witK a faint odor of 
 heliotrope, and for a moment the strong man's heart 
 beat faster, and a sudden dryness in his throat 
 caused him to swallow two or three times. Nellie 
 was leaning toward him, a fixed smile exposing her 
 white teeth that gleamed in the dim light. 
 
 "Why don't you smoke?" she asked. "I do so 
 enjoy the smell of tobacco. It makes a woman feel 
 as though there were a man around," she added,
 
 PRIMITIVE METHODS 299 
 
 suddenly remembering a phrase that she had read 
 somewhere. 
 
 Rising with a snap as though a spring had been 
 released, Crissey took a match from the top of his 
 desk and relighted his cigar. Nellie watched him 
 closely as the light of the match fell on his strong, 
 handsome face and white hair. Her eyelids were 
 brought together till the reddish pupils peeped out 
 through the merest slit the same sort of a cat- 
 like regard that she had once cast upon Harry, 
 when she had him within striking distance. Cris- 
 sey took a brisk turn up and down the office, puffing 
 vigorously, and then sat down again, complete mas- 
 ter of himself. 
 
 "What is your business witK me, Madam?" he 
 inquired brusquely, at the same time taking out his 
 watch. "Please be brief. It is getting late, and 
 I must be going home." 
 
 "Oh, how you frightened me!" cried Nellie in 
 mock trepidation. "One would think you were a 
 great big bear, when you growl like that !" 
 
 "I beg your pardon. I am very sorry if I fright- 
 ened you. And now will you kindly state the na- 
 ture of your business ?" 
 
 "Will you promise not to growl again?" 
 
 Crissey smiled in spite of himself.
 
 300 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 "On one condition, and that is that you have not 
 come to me with any stories about my old friend 
 Harry." 
 
 "Then I'm safe, for it isn't about Harry." 
 
 "Well, then?" 
 
 Nellie cleared her throat, slid a little nearer to the 
 lawyer, till she was sitting on the very edge of her 
 chair, and then mechanically straightened her hat. 
 Crissey sat gravely looking at her, a respectful 
 image of carven attention. 
 
 "Oh, dear, I don't know how to begin," she tit- 
 tered. "You are so stern and forbidding; I am 
 really afraid of you." 
 
 "Do you want me to lecture again before the 
 club?" 
 
 "It's about the telephones," Nellie blurted out. 
 She had expected to make a complete conquest of 
 Crissey by this time. His self-control left her in 
 a position of unexpected difficulty, and she was be- 
 coming so embarrassed that she scarcely knew what 
 she was saying. 
 
 "About the telephones?" 
 
 "Yes. Do you know that, on account of your 
 friendship for Harry, I am so interested in your 
 career? You are so learned and eloquent and so 
 striking looking. Do you know that Mrs. Kim- 
 ball- Smith says that you are the most interesting
 
 PRIMITIVE METHODS 301 
 
 man that ever lectured before the club?" She ac- 
 cented the word "interesting" on the penult. 
 
 "Yes, but what about the telephones?" asked 
 Crissey, feeling ill at ease. 
 
 Nellie was seized with a sudden inspiration. 
 
 "All the women of the club are so interested in 
 your career, since you appeared before us. We 
 don't want you to do anything to hurt it. We want 
 you to be just as popular as you can be. Now you 
 know what an awful telephone service we have in 
 this city. If the company were granted an exten- 
 sion of of time, telephones would be cheaper. 
 Couldn't you vote for it in the Council? It would 
 make you so popular. Couldn't you, Mr. Crissey, 
 ,iust just to please me?" 
 
 She laid her firm white hand on that of the 
 lawyer, resting upon his knee, and pressed it con- 
 vulsively. 
 
 Crissey jerked his arm back, arose to his feet, and 
 turned the light on full. Leaning over the woman, 
 he looked her in the eye. She trembled violently 
 under the clear, honest gaze. Her face flushed 
 red as scarlet and then turned white. 
 
 "So that villain Murchison sent you?" he asked 
 at length in a low tone. 
 
 Nellie sprang forward and, laying her Hands on 
 his shoulders, cried:
 
 302 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 "I thought it was best for you ! It is best for 
 you ! Please, please, do it for my sake !" 
 
 He seized her wrists, and, holding her from him, 
 pushed her gently but firmly down into her chair. 
 
 "Mrs. Chapin," he said, gravely and almost ten- 
 derly, "your words can bear but one interpreta- 
 tion, but I refuse to understand you. You are a 
 respectable married woman, the wife of the best 
 man in the world my friend. I perceive that you 
 are in great danger, that you are in the clutches of 
 one of the shrewdest and most unprincipled villains 
 in the world. Go home to your husband, Mrs. 
 Ch Nellie. Learn to love him. Learn to love 
 your home. Become a mother. No woman 'is half 
 a woman until she becomes a mother. She can 
 not fail to be true and good and virtuous after she 
 has felt the touch of baby fingers upon her cheek 
 unless, indeed, she be a monstrosity, which you are 
 not. Go home, Nellie, and pray to God to help you. 
 You are not fitted for this thing that you are doing 
 to-night. You did not do it well. I could see 
 from your awkwardness, I can see from the tears 
 that are now stealing into your eyes, that you are 
 too good a woman for this kind of thing." 
 
 Nellie sat looking at him as if fascinated. When 
 he spoke of her tears, she picked up her veil from
 
 Your words can bear but 
 one interpretation
 
 PRIMITIVE METHODS 303 
 
 the desk and covered her face with it. Crissey took 
 one of her hands in his. 
 
 "You are a good woman, Nellie," fie said, "and it 
 is the mission of good women to make the world 
 better, to make men better, not worse. Now let 
 us wipe this interview off the slate forget it en- 
 tirely, as though it had never happened. Don't 
 despise your husband because he is not brilliant. 
 He has as many noble qualities as any man I 
 know. All the brilliancy in the world does not 
 weigh heavier in the scales than a thoroughly good, 
 true heart. Try to see " 
 
 A noise in the adjoining office caused him to drop 
 the hand and to glance quickly at the glass parti- 
 tion. Darting suddenly from the room, he threw 
 open the door inscribed, "Mr. Kickhan Gorham," 
 and surprised two men, one fat, with a red 
 face, wearing a short light overcoat and a small 
 derby ; the other small, wearing a cheap ulster and 
 a slouch hat. 
 
 "We, ah, just happened in," stammered one of 
 them. 
 
 Crissey sprang forward, and, catching them both 
 by the collar, knocked their heads together. 
 
 "Murder! -Murder!" screamed the little man. 
 
 The larger one, who was quite powerful, strug-
 
 304 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 gled violently. Crissey let go of him, and struck 
 him a blow full in the face that felled him to the 
 floor. 
 
 "And now, my little man," he panted, choking 
 the other until his eyes started from his head, "tell 
 me who let you in here. Who was it, quick, or 
 I'll break your neck." 
 
 "The the janitor," wheezed the "private de- 
 tective." 
 
 "The janitor, eh? Well, I'll Kelp you out." And 
 suiting the action to the word, he led him to the 
 door and propelled the detective through it with a 
 good, honest kick. 
 
 Turning to the larger man, who was just recov- 
 ering, he pulled him roughly to his feet, and helped 
 him through the door in the same primitive manner. 
 Then he returned to his own office. Nellie was 
 gone; but Her green veil was lying on his desk, 
 and the room was filled with a faint odor of helio- 
 trope. 
 
 Crissey crushed the slight fabric into a tiny wad 
 and threw it into the waste-paper basket. 
 
 "Poor Harry !" he muttered. "Poor old fellow !" 
 
 He stood for a full minute with his hands in his 
 pockets in deep reflection, bringing his train of 
 thought to a conclusion with a low whistle.
 
 PRIMITIVE METHODS 305 
 
 "Well, I reckon they won't make much capital out 
 of that," He laughed, picking up his hat from the 
 top of the desk.
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 MISCHIEF IN A LETTER 
 
 Dolly Crissey was sewing a button on her hus- 
 band's every-day business coat, with her little flock 
 about her. It was evening, and by the light of the 
 green-shaded lamp Jim was struggling with the 
 first principles of algebra. Dorothy Second, who 
 had developed a great talent for art, sat in her little 
 red chair drawing pictures on a sheet of foolscap. 
 She used the bottom of an ordinary kitchen chair 
 for a table, and came running every moment to her 
 mother to receive approbation for her latest effort. 
 
 Agnes, who was already becoming quite domes- 
 tic, as is apt to be the case with little girls who 
 have good, sensible mothers, sat in her rocker with 
 her legs dangling, demurely hemming a table nap- 
 kin. Imitative of her mother, she desired always 
 to be doing the same thing or something similar. 
 Her work was far from perfect ; yet Mrs. Crissey 
 had ever some kind word of encouragement to say, 
 and rarely condemned outright. 
 306
 
 MISCHIEF IN A LETTER 307 
 
 "Ma," said Jim, running his fingers through his 
 tousled, reddish hair, "I wish you had studied al- 
 gebra when you were a girl, so that you could help 
 me. I can't make any sense out of it at all." 
 
 "It'll do you more good to dig it out yourself, 
 my son," she replied. "Stick to it, and it will come 
 to you all at once. Your father had no one to help 
 him when he was a boy, and see what a learned, 
 brilliant man he is." 
 
 "But algebra is such rot," replied the Hoy. "Now 
 here it says that x and y are unknown quantities, 
 and that a and b are known quantities. That's a 
 lie. They're all unknown to mel" 
 
 "James ! You mustn't use such strong language, 
 not even about your lessons. It doesn't sound nice. 
 Just read it over carefully and quietly, and I'm sure 
 you can understand it. Doesn't Tommy Spears 
 understand the algebra sums ?" 
 
 "Yes'm," grunted Jim. 
 
 "Well, there you are. You wouldn't want any- 
 body to say that Ke is smarter than you." 
 
 Jim rested both' elbows on the table, dug his 
 fingers into his hair, and read the paper again with 
 'determined eyes and knotted brows. 
 
 All at once, and apropos of nothing, little Doro- 
 thy began to sing, in a high flat voice and with less
 
 3 o8 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 tune than time, which she marked by stabbing the 
 paper with the point of her pencil : 
 
 One dark night* 'when everybody wus in bed, 
 Mrs. O' Larry lit her lamp 'n the shed; 
 Cow kicked it over and winked he's eye 'n' said, 
 'There'll be a hot. 'time, in the oV town ter-night, 
 
 Mah baby 
 Wen you hear' 
 
 "Dorothy, Dorothy !" cried Jim. "Ma, can't you 
 stop her? I can't learn anything if she's going to 
 make sucR a racket." 
 
 Trie child continued the song, and Mrs. Crissey 
 ran to her and put her hand over her mouth. 
 
 "Sh " she said, laughing, "you mustn't make 
 so much' noise now. Jim wants to study." 
 
 "All the silderns at the kindergarten sings it," 
 pleaded Dorothy, "and Uncle Harry says it's a 
 bully song." 
 
 "Let mama see what you have made. Jim, you 
 had better go into your father's library and pre- 
 pare your lesson." 
 
 "It's mama earning home wiv her new Kat on. 
 That's the eye, that's tKe hair, that's the nose, 
 them's armzes, them's fingers." 
 
 "But where's the other eye, sweetheart ? Hasn't 
 mama; got two eyes ?"
 
 MISCHIEF IN A LETTER 309 
 
 "Every peoples has two eyes," replied the little 
 girl gravely. "She's other eye is on the other 
 side." 
 
 "Who taught you that?" 
 
 "Uncle Harry." 
 
 "He's a wonderful man, isn't he? He teaches 
 you to sing and to draw." 
 
 "I love him three bushels," said little Dorothy. 
 
 "And how much do you love mama?" 
 
 "Seben bushels." 
 
 "And papa?" 
 
 "Five bushels." 
 
 TKe mother caught the child to her breast and 
 whispered to her : "You'll love papa more when you 
 grow up to be a big girl. Mama loves him a mil- 
 lion, million bushels." 
 
 "I love mama the bestest," declared Dorothy 
 stoutly. "Will I be a big girl to-morrow, mama? 
 Will I, mama?" 
 
 "Isn't Dorothy silly?" inquired Agnes disdain- 
 fully. 
 
 Just then a decorative clock on the mantel, shaped 
 like the fagade of a Greek temple, struck eight 
 with a mellow chime. 
 
 "It's time little girls went to by-o-land," said the 
 mother, setting the baby on her chair. "Agnes, 
 dear, gather up youf work."
 
 3 io THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 "Yes, mama." 
 
 Mrs. Crissey took up the coat, which" sHe had 
 laid across the back of the rocker in which she had 
 been sewing, and something white dropped from a 
 pocket and fluttered to the floor. 
 
 She picked it up. It was a letter, and Her quick 
 eye detected the fact that the superscription on 
 the envelope was in a woman's hand. Never be- 
 fore in her life had the temptation come to her to 
 read surreptitiously one of her husband's letters. 
 She glanced a second time sharply at this one and 
 tucked it back into the pocket. She put the coat 
 over Her arm and started to hang it away, but before 
 she reached the door she glanced guiltily at the 
 children. Agnes was still fussing witK her sew- 
 ing, gathering up odds and ends and putting them 
 into a little bag; and Dorothy Second was making 
 one more picture. She slipped the letter from the 
 pocket, and, turning her back to the little ones, 
 took it from the envelope and read it. It said : 
 
 "Dear Mr. Crissey Can you be in your office 
 Wednesday evening at eight o'clock? I want to see 
 you so much. Yours sincerely, 
 
 "NELLIE CHAPIN." 
 
 "So!" whispered Dolly, clutching at her heart,
 
 MISCHIEF IN A LETTER 311 
 
 through which a sudden and intolerable pain had 
 shot as though some cruel hand had seized and 
 wrung it. Mechanically she put the letter back a 
 second time, and sank, almost fainting, into a chair. 
 She must have sat some minutes thus, staring with 
 wide-open eyes and lips white, for sHe was at last 
 awakened from her stunned condition by the voices 
 of her daughters, quarreling over an apple. 
 
 "That's half, I tell you," Agnes was saying, and 
 little Dorothy was whining : 
 
 "Oh, not so half, I told you ; not so half." 
 
 She hastened from the room, turning her face 
 away that the children might not see it, and called 
 Lena, telling her hoarsely to put them to bed, as 
 she was not feeling well. 
 
 Her first impulse on reaching her own room was 
 to throw herself on the couch and sob. But she 
 was too strong a character for that. Instead, she 
 walked nervously to and fro, trying to think. Dif- 
 ferent emotions swayed Her in turn. One moment 
 it seemed as though this designing, wicked woman 
 were making a systematic attack on her husband's 
 affections. Then Dolly felt old and ugly and sorry 
 for herself. She had no doubt of Nellie's ultimate 
 victory, and covering her face with Her hands, she 
 sobbed hysterically. The next instant a feeling of 
 rag;e swept over her ; an'd^ with clenched fists, writh-
 
 3 i2 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 ing lips, and deadly eyes, she became a little fury, 
 with the dark shadow of murder looming in her 
 bosom. Again, she thought of the silly manners 
 of Nellie in the library, and the eyes which she had 
 seen her make, and her jealous mind leaped at con- 
 viction; her husband had become entangled with 
 this vile woman, and she was making him meet 
 her wKerever and whenever she pleased. 
 
 Ah, that explained why she had seen so little of 
 him of late! Oh", God! And here she stopped 
 suddenly and stared as though she beheld some 
 horrid specter that Had been dogging her all her 
 life, invisible till now; or as though the mask had 
 dropped from the face of a friend, exposing the 
 obscene and fleshless lineaments of corruption : 
 perhaps her husband had always been false to her ! 
 Then she thought of how she had worked for him 
 through all his early years of struggle, and she 
 sobbed aloud: 
 
 "I've been a good wife to you, Edward. You 
 know I've been a good wife to you. I've grown 
 old before my time for you." 
 
 Just then Lena knocked at the door. 
 
 "Please, ma'am, Dorothy's so bad. She won't 
 say her prayers." 
 
 Mother-love, stronger than any other emotion in
 
 MISCHIEF IN A LETTER 313 
 
 the heart of a really good woman, arose all power- 
 ful. 
 
 "Tell Her I'll come right down," called Dolly; 
 and she muttered, as she washed her haggard face 
 with cold water: 
 
 "My poor darlings. They must never suffer for 
 this. They must never know of it." 
 
 Aggie, sitting up in bed in her white gown, with 
 two tiny pigtails hanging down her back, began 
 to explain volubly how naughty Dorothy was, the 
 moment the mother entered the bedroom. 
 
 Dorothy, in flannel pajamas, was striding up and 
 down the bed, bouncing on the springs as a circus 
 athlete walks on the net into whicli he falls after 
 an aerial feat. She was singing at the top of a 
 very high" pair of lungs: "J esus loves me, Jesus 
 loves me." TKe moment she saw her mother she 
 shrieked, "Ho, mama! Oh, mama! Ain't you 
 comin' to put me to sleep, mama? Ain't you, or 
 not you?" 
 
 The mother pressed the child to her bosom and 
 knelt by the side of the bed with her. 
 
 "Now I lay me down to sleep," she said. 
 
 There was something in her tone that instantly 
 quelled the thoughtless exuberance of childhood, 
 and a hushed, sweet voice piped out in the dim
 
 3 i4 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 light, fragrant of love and holiness and the pure 
 breath of innocence: 
 
 "Now I 'ay me down to s'eep, 
 I prays the Lord my soul to keep; 
 If I should die before I wake, 
 I prays the Lord my soul to take." 
 
 The last line was sung, with a careless accent 
 upon the word "soul." 
 
 "God bless papa," suggested the mother, and the 
 child continued volubly: 
 
 "God bless papa, God bless mama, God bless Jim, 
 God bless uncle Harry, God bless Lena God bless 
 every peoples !" 
 
 "You forgot dear sister Aggie," whispered the 
 mother. 
 
 "Aggie pulled my Hair," pouted the child. 
 
 "Dorothy, say, 'God bless Aggie,' this very mo- 
 ment." 
 
 "God bless Aggie there! Will you lie down 
 wiv me, mama ? Will you lie down wiv me ?" 
 
 When the first frenzy of Dolly's jealousy had 
 somewhat subsided, it occurred to her that perhaps 
 she was making a mountain out of a molehill, and 
 the thought filled her with a joy so keen that she 
 laughed hysterically. But the feeling was only
 
 MISCHIEF IN A LETTER 315 
 
 transient ; and the steady pain and fear settled down 
 upon her that this attractive, wicked woman was 
 plotting against her happiness. Of the outcome 
 of such a campaign, her modesty left little doubt. 
 One thing she knew, that she was too proud and 
 self-respecting to mention the matter to Edward. 
 She would suffer in silence and watch watch with 
 that superhuman keenness which is the gift of jeal- 
 ous people. 
 
 As the days went by she became more and more 
 miserable, till it seemed as though she must cry 
 out; but she kept to Her resolve, and suffered in 
 silence with a heroism of which no man that ever 
 lived would have been capable. At last, it seemed 
 as though she saw confirmation of her fears in her 
 husband's most ordinary actions. If he dressed 
 with particular care, or cleaned his teeth with more 
 tKan usual thoroughness, she was sure that he was 
 preparing to meet Nellie. If he refused onions or 
 food cooked with them, the wretched woman 
 thought of faithless kisses. Crissey was so very 
 busy that he did not see.
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 
 ONE SORT OF POET 
 
 The Crisseys ceased to invite the Chapins to their 
 house, and, as a consequence, Harry found himself 
 more isolated than ever. Except for the dull rout- 
 ine of his business and occasional talks with Gehrke, 
 whose matrimonial aspirations never quite ma- 
 terialized, he was compelled to fall back upon the 
 simple and kind-hearted Roths for his only human 
 intercourse. Fritz and Bismarck Goethe were a 
 great comfort to him. Once, during Nellie's ab- 
 sence in the country, he even brought Bismarck 
 Goethe down to sleep with him. The experiment 
 caused him to lie awake all night, as the little fel- 
 low was an active sleeper. Harry was fairly black 
 and blue in the morning from the sturdy kicks and 
 punches received from the boy's hands and feet, 
 i "You'd think he was a jumpin'-jack," he ex- 
 plained when he took him back to his mother, "and 
 that somebody was under the bed yanking the string 
 all nigKt. And what beats me is that he seems 
 rested."
 
 ONE SORT OF POET 317 
 
 Bismarck Goethe had a way, too, of drawing his 
 feet up to his head and throwing himself bodily 
 outside the covers. If Harry dozed off for a mo- 
 ment, he was sure to hear loud sneezing and to find 
 his charge entirely uncovered and cold as a frog. 
 
 When the concert of the factory whistles was 
 heard the little chap sat up straight as a ramrod 
 and bright as a dollar and cried : 
 
 "Seben o'clock. Mans goes to work." 
 
 "I don't see how you can manage to live and do 
 all your work," he said to Mrs. Roth, "without any 
 sleep at all." 
 
 "Oh, I sleep all right," replied the mother, smil- 
 ing sweetly and giving the boy a hug. "I keep 
 him covered without waking up at all. I'm I'm 
 used to it." 
 
 Ah, the love in a good woman's heart blossoms 
 into so many sweet uses and makes so many things 
 possible ! 
 
 Of one episode of the night Harry cautioned 
 Bismarck Goethe not to tell his mother, and had 
 received a faithful, solemn-eyed promise. Imagine 
 Harry's dismay when the boy cried out as soon as 
 he entered his home: 
 
 "Oh, mama, I fell down the cracker, and I prom- 
 ised uncle Harry not to tell !" 
 
 "He fell between the bed and the wall with a tre-
 
 318 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 mendous bump," explained Harry, "and I was 
 frightened to death. I expected to hear you come 
 a-running downstairs. As long as you didn't, I 
 saw no reason for worrying you about it." 
 
 "Oh, it's not the first time," laughed the mother. 
 
 With Roth, Harry had little in common save the 
 comradeship and mutual recognition of two good 
 hearts. The German, in addition to his family and 
 his music, was the fortunate possessor of a fad, 
 and there is nothing like a fad to keep a man from 
 growing stale. Postage stamps are better than 
 dry-rot, and coins have saved many a soul from 
 utter weariness. 
 
 Being a poet by nature, it was natural that the 
 German should turn his attention to the cultiva- 
 tion of flowers. Back of the house he had fenced 
 in a tiny patch of sand with a wire screen ; and 
 there, every spring, he wheeled barrows of soil 
 from a distant hollow where the leaves collected 
 and rotted. He found more pleasure in a deposit 
 of thoroughly decayed fertilizer, where a neighbor's 
 hen-house once stood, than a miner would have 
 experienced in striking a rich pocket of gold. He 
 told his wife about it mysteriously, and arose at 
 four o'clock in the morning to secure the whole 
 precious bed. 
 
 Harry tried to get interested in Roth's flowers,
 
 ONE SORT OF POET 319 
 
 but he could not even remember the names of them. 
 The German had a wire frame set up in a sunny 
 window in the dining room, whereon were a num- 
 ber of pots containing plants that actually bloomed 
 in the most inclement weather. He talked with a 
 will of Dutch bulbs, of cuttings, of transplantings ; 
 and Harry listened with the interest of one who 
 hears a foreign language which he would like to 
 understand but can not. He even took several tiny 
 pots down to his own rooms containing cuttings 
 or little green noses that were poking inquiringly 
 into the world, but the plants always died, despite 
 the German's minute directions and enthusiastic 
 predictions as to their possibilities. 
 
 "This," said the German, one Sunday morning 
 early in March, "is the poet's narcissus," and he 
 ran one of the long, slender leaves affectionately 
 between his finger and thumb. 
 
 "What poet?" asked Harry. "Have you given 
 it away?" 
 
 Roth laughed. "The narcissus of ancient poetry. 
 You know the legend? They say that a beautiful 
 youth his image so much admired while looking in 
 a fountain that he was at last changed into that 
 flower." 
 
 "He was so stuck on himself tHat he just stood 
 there and took root, eh ? That's the kind of a chap
 
 320 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 that fellow Dare is, who is downstairs talking with 
 my wife. I believe he'd take root before a looking- 
 glass, if he was standing out doors." 
 
 "Mr. Dare is a great artist," explained Roth. 
 "Artists have some right to be vain." 
 
 "Oh, Dare's all right," hastily rejoined Harry, 
 his good heart coming to the fore. "He always 
 treats me all right; only I can't bear to hear him 
 and my wife chinning together about books and art 
 and French and one thing and another. They 
 make me tired. I always get out." 
 
 "See how these little flowers are like stars," said 
 Roth. "And there are many other blooms that are 
 like stars shaped. I sometimes look out of my 
 window at night, and think that the stars are blos- 
 soms of great plants growing in the sky. If I 
 look close, I can see narcissus stems, and branch- 
 ing sprays of the Star-of-Bethlehem and the vines 
 of the trailing clematis." 
 
 When Roth talked like this there was a far-away 
 look in his blue eyes, and his face was flushed with 
 eagerness. 
 
 "Oh, how can any one be unhappy in the world," 
 he cried, "when love is to all free, and the blessed 
 flowers, and the stars ? These do you know what 
 these are?"
 
 ONE SORT OF POET 321 
 
 "Yes no I've forgot again. You tell me 
 every time I come up." 
 
 "This is a hyacinth. Beautiful, beautiful thing! 
 Schon f schon! And they grow in a wonderful 
 variety of colors; dark red, rosy red, white, pink, 
 lavender, blue. AK, your Mister Dare should not 
 be proud. There is no artist living who can colors 
 mix like trie good God who makes and paints the 
 flowers. This arrangement of blossoms is called 
 a spike." 
 
 "It looks more like a lamp-chimney cleaner," sug- 
 gested Harry. 
 
 Roth laughed immoderately, and went to the 
 kitchen door with the pot in his hand. 
 
 "See here, Schats" he cried ; "see here, Liebchen; 
 Mr. Chapin says these would make good lamp- 
 chimney cleaners. Ah, Ke is no poet our Harry !" 
 
 "All these flowers," he continued, coming back 
 and setting the pot tenderly again in its place in 
 the frame, "are from bulbs. Do you know what 
 a wonderful thing is a bulb? It looks like a po- 
 tato or an onion, and can be sent to any part of the 
 world. Yet in its little heart is stored a treasury of 
 beauty, grace, perfume, and tenderness. See these 
 Easter lilies they slept in a homely bulb all their 
 fragrance, their holy promises, their memories of
 
 322 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 the good Jesus, who in the beauty of the lilies 
 came." 
 
 "A bulb is something: like a seed, isn't it ?" asked 
 Harry. 
 
 "A seed, too, is a wonderful thing," assented the 
 German. 
 
 Among Roth's other plants were a wandering 
 jew that trailed floonvard from the mouth of a beer 
 bottle, a pot of pale pink begonias with yellow 
 stamens, some English primroses of faint, exquisite 
 fragrance, and two or three tiny clusters of violets. 
 
 "These are for my wife," he said. "I used to 
 bring her the first violets of spring when I was to 
 her making court. This one, it is ready; I will 
 give it to her now." 
 
 Cutting the dainty stem of a single flower that 
 seemed most perfect, he went into the kitchen, 
 where the little woman was busy at the table with 
 the sleeves rolled back from her plump arms, and 
 held it before her with courtly grace, in fat, but 
 not clumsy, fingers. She spoke not a word, but a 
 blush suffused the slightly disfigured face, and a 
 meaning look came into the. Hazel-sHy, and tender 
 eyes. 
 
 It was the first violet of spring; and they were 
 young lovers again always.
 
 ONE SORT OF POET 323 
 
 She held up her mouth for a kiss, and he put the 
 flower into her soft, brown hair. 
 
 '"Come out here," cried Roth to Harry, "and I'll 
 show you what I shall with my garden make this 
 spring." 
 
 From the back porch, the German explained to 
 Harry how the little patch of ground would soon 
 be beautiful with snowdrops and crocuses, and 
 later with a bed of tulips, daffodils and hyacinths ; 
 and he ran through, counting them off on his 
 fingers, the flowers th'at could be kept blooming in 
 succession up till fall. 
 
 "Do you see that dead tree there in one corner ?" 
 he asked. "It has no roots. I set it there myself, 
 and I shall make it to life come. I shall plant at 
 the bottom some morning-glory seeds, and you 
 shall see what a beautiful tree it will be before the 
 winter comes again. And" here he laughed mys- 
 teriously and whispered in Harry's ear "there is 
 one thing that you must not Mrs. Roth tell. I 
 shall plant a sweet pea vine below this window, 
 and shall a string run up here. And some day, 
 when it has got well started, I shall tell her that it 
 is coming up to see her, and that it is her Romeo. 
 Oh, I shall make that I am very jealous. Did you 
 ever see a vine climb a string?"
 
 324 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 "Well, I know that they do go up, but I never 
 noticed particularly Kow they do it." 
 
 "They reach out little hands," explained the Ger^ 
 man, "and come up like a boy climbing a rope at a 
 picnic 'hand over hand.' " 
 
 "They almost seem to think, don't they?" asked 
 Harry. 
 
 "Think?" cried RotH. "Tfiink? They have 
 souls!" 
 
 Fritz was seated on the floor with his tin sol- 
 diers drawn up in line. They were Spaniards, and 
 he had planted a toy cannon at a considerable dis- 
 tance. Every second he cried "Bang!" and dis- 
 charged a marble, causing vast damage in the ranks 
 of the enemy. 
 
 Bismarck Goethe was busily engaged in taking 
 articles from a tall soiled-clothes basket in the cor- 
 ner, loudly calling the name of each garment as he 
 deposited it on the floor. As Harry re-entered the 
 room, the boy asked his mother : 
 
 "Are you making tapiloca pudding, mama?" 
 
 "Come here, Bismarck," commanded his father. 
 But tHe sturdy urchin replied: 
 
 "I got else to do," and continued his catalogue. 
 
 "Them's my- 'drawrzes ; that's papa's shirt ; that's 
 Fritz's nighty ; them's mama's " 
 
 "Go ft im Himmel!" exclaimed tKe mother, blush-
 
 ONE SORT OF POET 325 
 
 ing furiously and making a dash for the boy. The 
 father picked him up, laughing, and dropped him 
 into the basket, shutting the cover down over his 
 head. 
 
 "Come info the front room and Hear my poem, 
 that I made up myself," he said, taking Harry by 
 the arm and leading him away. 
 
 "Do you write poetry ?" asked Harry. 
 
 "When the springtime comes, I feel like it. But 
 I do not know the English so well. However, I 
 write better than I speak." 
 
 Fumbling in his pocket, he produced a piece of 
 soiled, yellow paper, and read: 
 
 'When springtime waves her wand 
 
 O'er budding bush and tree, 
 Mine heart grows young again 
 'And buds in poetry. 
 
 'Green memories that grief 
 
 'And time can never wrong, 
 They swell within my breast 
 
 And blossom into song!" 
 
 "That seems all righ't," said Harry. 
 
 "The thought is not so bad?" asked Roth anx- 
 iously. 
 
 Just then Bridget knocked a? the door and an- 
 nounced that dinner was ready. Harry wen? 'down 
 to eat his Sunday dinner with his wife and Dare.
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 A LOTHARIO OF FIFTY 
 
 In the latter days of MarcK, Gifford Dare, artist, 
 esthete, and cynic, definitely made up his mind to 
 leave town. For some time he had felt the old 
 Wanderlust growing in him which seizes every man 
 who is not tied down to a woman and babies. The 
 whitecaps, far out in the Lake, as he stood in his 
 study window and watched them dreamily, seemed 
 to him fairy hands beckoning him away, away. 
 The voice of the plashing waves, if he wandered 
 down by the shore on a warm evening, whispered 
 to him of Venice, of the South Sea Isles, of the 
 housetops of Fez. 
 
 The girl with the red-gold hair was in all these 
 dreams; and he continually thought of taking her 
 away with him to the Mediterranean or the Pacific, 
 and of living with her in tropic dishabille and law- 
 less leisure amid palm groves or in an orient gar- 
 den. 
 
 Yet in his heart of hearts he knew tHat this 
 326
 
 A LOTHARIO OF FIFTY 327 
 
 course could not lead to happiness. He was a true 
 esthete ; and every lover of the beautiful has some- 
 thing like conscience, has a perception, at least, of 
 the comeliness of honor and manliness. He felt 
 that it was a cowardly and an ugly thing to steal an- 
 other man's wife. 
 
 And so he meant to go away and forget Nellie ; 
 and he finally fixed upon Venice. For this city 
 most appealed to him, and the Venetian sketches 
 which he had painted there long ago had been the 
 beginning of his career. 
 
 The more he thought of Venice, the more dis- 
 gusting the inland city climate and background be- 
 came to him. He was sick of the suns that were 
 tin foil one day and red blood the next. He was 
 tired of the grim, gray buildings swathed in dirty 
 smoke that made them unreal and evanescent, like 
 the piles and battlements of some great citadel of 
 the infernal world. 
 
 And a man who has fairly rounded fifty becomes 
 a sort of human barometer, responding with the 
 greatest delicacy to sudden changes of climate. 
 Just two weeks ago Roth was writing his spring 
 song, and was thinking of beginning his out-of- 
 doors garden; and little children were wing-danc- 
 ing on the streets. This year's kites were already 
 Hanging tp the telegraph wires.
 
 328 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 The sun was shining brightly on the day when 
 the German felt th'e tender buds of poetry swelling 
 in his heart. But the sun really stayed but a few 
 hours ; and then followed a week of fine rain, and 
 weather so dark that people living in undetached 
 houses were obliged to light the gas in all rooms 
 except the one facing the street. A sky slate- 
 blue, with a few reddish yellow leaves hung to the 
 black, barren branches of the trees. The last time 
 that the artist had gone to Nellie's house he had 
 been oppressed by the dulness and bleakness of 
 everything out of doors. The line of trees down 
 George Avenue struck him as dead, and the strag- 
 gling bevies of sparrows that drifted through their 
 branches, as though wind-blown, were as black as 
 ink. Roofs, terra-cotta or a shade of dull brown ; 
 acres of drifted sand; and the slate-blue Lake 
 swathed in mist and melting in the indefinite sky. 
 
 It was warmer then, but now winter had again 
 closed his iron fist tight upon the vitals of the world ; 
 and Dare saw a true arctic scene from his studio 
 window, and he shivered as he looked. No amount 
 of hair-dye can make the blood warm in the veins. 
 
 He had closed his bachelor apartments, and 
 stored his furniture, and was sleeping for the last 
 nights in his studio. Wrapped in a woolen bath 
 robe, he stood, yerj; early one morning, looking out
 
 A LOTHARIO OF FIFTY 329 
 
 of his window, watching for the sun to rise. The 
 streets were deserted, save for an occasional cab 
 taking some gambler home from an all-night poker 
 game. A train rushed by on the unsightly tracks 
 that deface the Lake front at this point, sobbing out 
 puffs of smoke that might well have been some 
 fleeing dragon's breath made visible by the cold. 
 
 When he first looked down upon the Lake, it was 
 merely a dull leaden surface, something flat in a 
 world of shadowy forms. THen it grew a steel 
 color, and slight irregularities took shape upon it. 
 The sun at last seemed to burn its way into the 
 mist, low down, a dim yellow ball, not larger than 
 an orange. It touched th'e world with a long, 
 slender, yellow pencil. 
 
 And the ball grew and grew until it became a 
 huge golden shield, a hundred feet in diameter, 
 with tattered edges. The orange had been a coal, 
 and a wind from the Lake was blowing upon it and 
 making it a fire. A beautiful yellow radiance per- 
 vaded the vicinity of the shield, shading off into 
 colder colors in the distance, to dull purple, lemon, 
 slate. The surface of tKe Lake took definite char- 
 acter and became an arctic scene, with th'e summits 
 of a thousand ice floes tipped with yellow. 
 
 "Ugh !" said Dare, drawing his robe more closely 
 about his shriveled form, "there ought to be a big
 
 330 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 polar bear slouching across there, with his head 
 low down, swinging from side to side." 
 
 As the minutes passed, the center of the great 
 shield brightened, till at last the face of the sun 
 itself blazed there, a disk of burnished brass, in- 
 tolerably bright, whose circumference was marked 
 by a plainly drawn circle of dull gold. The frozen 
 Lake glittered like silver. 
 
 "That's worth painting," mused Dare; "but if 
 couldn't be done, because the chief element in the 
 effect is change. There was all the hush and ex- 
 pectancy in the pageant that one sees in grand 
 opera, where the appearance of some great dig- 
 nitary is preceded by triumphal music, and the en- 
 trance upon the stage of troops with banners, retain- 
 ers, peasants, and so forth. One might show it 
 by a series of tableaux ; but then, nobody would be- 
 lieve it. No, Dare, old boy, Venice is more nearly 
 your size." 
 
 With a yawn he turned away from the window, 
 muttering : 
 
 "It's a shame the sun gets up so early ; if it rose, 
 say, about ten o'clock, a fellow could assist at the 
 ceremony more frequently than twice a year. Well, 
 that's the last sunrise I'll see here for many a day." 
 
 He returned to his couch and slept till nearly 
 noon. Then he arose for the day and made a care-
 
 A LOTHARIO OF FIFTY 331 
 
 ful and studied toilet. He had determined to pay 
 a farewell visit to Nellie, and his masculine vanity 
 prompted him to leave as favorable and lasting an 
 impression on her as possible. 
 
 "Few men of my age would be successful if they 
 went courting in their nightshirts," he soliloquized 
 as he stood critically regarding his reflection in a 
 full-length mirror, with his mind on the cos- 
 tume of the day, much as Roth had studied the 
 dead tree which he proposed to dress in morning- 
 glory vines. 
 
 "What an opener of whited sepulchres matrimony 
 must be!" he mused. "The only people who ever 
 approached it from the right standpoint were the 
 ancient Spartans, who gave their young couples a 
 glimpse at each other in nature's garb before they 
 were spliced for life. No civilized nation has this 
 commendable custom to-day, though the same 
 thing exists in effect among the South Sea Island- 
 ers. Jove! Imagine the lifelong sorrow and dis- 
 appointment of an esthete, a true lover of the 
 beautiful, who imagines that he is marrying a 
 Venus, and finds out when it is eternally too late 
 that her legs are too short for her body or that her 
 knees are ugly. On the other hand, what divine 
 justice is there in such a combination as that out 
 at my friend Chapin's? What right Has a stupid,
 
 332 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 blind yokel to possess a living, God-wrought statue 
 like like Nellie? Nellie? I should call her 
 Helen." 
 
 Dare's eyes were gummy with the exudations of 
 age; his cheeks were sallow; his hair hung straight 
 down over his forehead unparted; one side of his 
 jet-black mustache, the side upon which he had 
 been sleeping, drooped thinly over his colorless lips 
 like the broken wing of a crow. His nightshirt 
 hung loosely about his thin form. 
 
 "Ugh!" muttered Dare; "it's devilish hard for 
 an artist to grow old gracefully. He might do it, 
 though, if it weren't for the mornings. I wonder 
 how many famous beauties would look like nymphs 
 coming out of a bath when they first wake up after 
 a night's sleep? Or, say, about half an hour be- 
 fore they wake up ? How many have sweet breaths 
 at that time? Ah, nothing but the earliest youth 
 can stand that test." 
 
 An hour later, Gifford Dare descended to the 
 street, young, debonair, picturesque, erect. He took 
 his breakfast at a cafe, and then boarded a North 
 Side car, to say good by to the girl with the red- 
 gold hair; and then, ho, for Venice! 
 
 He ascended the stairs to the second flat with a 
 mingled feeling of longing and regret. His heart 
 beat high with that youthful flurry and pride which
 
 A LOTHARIO OF FIFTY 333 
 
 seizes the man who is about to enter the presence 
 of the woman whom he loves and who loves him; 
 he was oppressed with an almost intolerable feel- 
 ing of homesickness at the idea of leaving her, and 
 ,of putting behind him forever his last flattering ad- 
 venture, his last chance for youth. 
 
 Bridget came to the door. "Yis ; Mrs. Chapin 
 is in. Wull ye sit down and wait till she makes 
 herself ready?" 
 
 He laid his cloak and slouch hat upon a chair and 
 waited. He could hear her moving about in the 
 bedroom, and, as she progressed with her toilet, he 
 imagined he could hear the rustling of feminine 
 garments as she put them on. He asked himself 
 if she had let her splendid hair down. 
 
 At last the door opened, and she came out f all 
 eagerness and strangely agitated. 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Dare," she said, advancing and extend- 
 ing her hand, "it's so good of you to come and see 
 me. This is an unexpected pleasure." 
 
 "It's good of you to receive me at this uncon- 
 ventional hour," he replied, losing for the moment 
 his aplomb. He did not really stop to think 
 whether the hour was unconventional or not. He 
 stood holding her hand in an embarrassed sort of 
 way, and said inconsequentially : 
 
 "I met your landlady downstairs. Wfiat an ex-
 
 334 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAQ 
 
 traordinarily ugly woman she is ! It would be a 
 shame to photograph a woman like that." 
 
 "Do you think she would break the camera?" 
 
 "No ; I'm thinking of the poor sensitive plate." 
 
 Dare was too agitated to notice that Nellie did 
 not understand. 
 
 "That's a desolate-looking scene, isn't it ?" he re- 
 marked, pointing to the Lake as they sat down by 
 the window. The ice hummocks extended as far 
 out as the crib, and the posts of the half-ruined 
 breakwater had become giant mushrooms of ice. 
 In an open space a berg of respectable size was 
 floating about. 
 
 "This is the worst climate on earth," pursued 
 Dare. "You couldn't get a colder, more cheerless 
 prospect than that at the North Pole, nor in St. 
 Petersburg. St. Petersburg! Why, that city is 
 all life, all animation in the winter. Then the Rus- 
 sians begin to live. Gaiety reigns everywhere. 
 Splendid teams of two and three horses dashing by 
 in the streets, the drivers swinging their long whips, 
 the ladies wrapped up in furs, laughing and calling 
 to each other as they meet and pass." 
 
 "How lovely it must be to have traveled as mucK 
 as you have !" said Nellie, her eyes kindling. 
 
 "Y-e-s," assented Dare. "It's nice to travel if 
 one has a congenial companion along, but there's
 
 A LOTHARIO OF FIFTY 335 
 
 nothing more wearisome than to go about alone. 
 Some men travel for diversion after a great sorrow. 
 They make a mistake. They had better stay at 
 home among their friends if they have any worthy 
 of the name. You can never go far enough to get 
 away from yourself, and there is no loneliness on 
 earth like that of a stranger in a big city especially 
 a foreign town. But to travel with a congenial 
 companion, to share the delights of new scenes and 
 new impressions with some one that you, ah like, 
 that is one of the greatest delights on earth." 
 
 "You are really going to Naples this spring?" 
 asked Nellie. 
 
 Dare concluded to have the thing over. 
 
 "No, to Venice." 
 
 "To to Venice?" 
 
 She paled to her lips, and dug both her hands 
 into the arms of the upholstered chair in whicK she 
 was sitting. 
 
 "When?" she managed to ask at last in a voice 
 scarcely above a whisper. 
 
 Dare glanced at her and turned his head away. 
 
 "I start within a week," he replied, talking rap- 
 idly and attempting to assume a matter-of-fact 
 tone. "You see, I made a success quite a number of 
 years ago with some Venetian sketches, but they 
 were crude v I have always had the dream of re-
 
 336 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 turning to the city sometime when I had acquired 
 more skill, and doing it right. And I must go now 
 or never. I am getting old. I shall never see forty 
 again." He thought it would make it easier for 
 her if he spoke of his age, but he had not even 
 then the courage to say how old he really was. "I 
 can not stand these violent changes of climate as 
 I once did twenty years ago. Now you, my dear 
 child, at your age, you can not realize how these 
 bitter spring winds go through" a a middle-aged 
 man like me." There was a feigned lightness in 
 his voice that would have been deceptive had it not 
 been pitched on too high a note. 
 
 Nellie did not speak. She simply looked at him 
 like a deer that he had once wounded. He had 
 never shot anything since, because such a look in the 
 eyes had impressed him as unbeautiful. 
 
 "And so I came to say good by," he cried, rising 
 briskly and gathering up his cloak and hat. 
 
 Nellie tottered to her feet and stood swaying. 
 She seemed to be leaning toward him. 
 
 She did not extend her hand. 
 
 "Won't you say good by to me?" he asked ten- 
 derly, his cloak thrown over his left arm while he 
 offered his right hand. 
 
 "Good by," she said huskily, and then her face 
 became distorted like a child's that is about to cry.
 
 A LOTHARIO OF FIFTY 337 
 
 He seized the hand that hung limply by her side 
 and held it in his own for a moment. His cloak 
 and hat slipped to the floor. Then he took her in 
 his arms, and she lay sobbing upon his breast. 
 
 He led her to the sofa and sat down beside Her 
 with his arm about her waist. She pillowed her 
 head upon his shoulder ; and thus they sat for sev- 
 eral minutes, she weeping convulsively, he gazing 
 straight ahead and trying to think. 
 
 Strangely enough, his mind took in little details 
 of the objects within his visual angle a French" ex- 
 ercise book upon a red table cloth, a cheap lamp with 
 a big globe, the frightful paper on the walls, the 
 black, naked limbs of a tree beyond the window. 
 
 She moved, and the red-gold hair was pressed 
 softly against his neck. SHe smiled sadly when Ke 
 lifted her chin with his hand, and she returned the 
 kisses which he pressed upon her lips. 
 I At last he rose briskly and, bending over Her, 
 took both her hands in his. 
 
 "I leave," lie said, "Saturday evening for New 
 York on the Michigan Central, and you are coming 
 with me. Listen, Nellie " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Don't trouble to pack many things it might ex- 
 cite suspicion. Just a grip will do. I'll let you . 
 know the exact hour of the train's departure, and
 
 338 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROA0 
 
 you can meet me at the depot. I'll drop you a note 
 not later than Friday. I don't think I'd better come 
 out here again." 
 
 He stooped and kissed her once more, then pulled 
 her to her feet, crying with forced gaiety : 
 
 "Don't cry any more, little woman. We shall 
 be very happy. And now I must go." 
 
 She followed him to the door sobbing : 
 
 "It's so wrong !" 
 
 "Don't think of that, Nellie. We can't help it. 
 We tried to, but we couldn't." 
 
 As he turned the knob she laid both hands upon 
 his shoulder and looked yearningly at him, her face 
 paling with a sudden terror that changed on the 
 instant to shame. All the blood in her body seemed 
 to flood her pallid cheeks as she hid her forehead 
 in his breast, murmuring hoarsely : 
 
 "Will you marry me as soon as I am free ? Will 
 you, Gifford? Promise me this, and I will go." 
 
 A man promises anything at such times. 
 
 "Of course," he replied, "if if you want me 
 to." 
 
 "If I want you to ! I wouldn't go else. I'm not 
 a bad woman, Gifford.
 
 CHAPTER XXVII 
 ANOTHER SORT OF POET 
 
 Dare was shaking so when he reached the street 
 that he turned instinctively to the saloon on the 
 corner for a glass of brandy, muttering : 
 
 "Well, I'ye done it, after all, or rather it did it- 
 self ; and I'm not going to have any qualms over it. 
 No man of my temperament, fifty years old, can 
 resist a beautiful woman who loves him. Venality 
 is always ugly, but there isn't the least bit of venal- 
 ity in this. The love of a beautiful woman is the 
 most beautiful thing on earth. Man made God in 
 his own image, and the gods of the old Greeks, the 
 only nation of artists that the world ever saw, sim- 
 ply couldn't resist this sort of thing. Bah! I'm 
 no puritan. Puritanism is the ugliness of re- 
 ligion." 
 
 As he lifted his drink to his lips with shaking 
 hand he reflected : 
 
 "No gentleman would poison his friend's dog, 
 or steal his money ; but almost any man would win 
 his friend's wife if he got the chance." 
 339
 
 340 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 Later the thought comforted him that Harry was 
 not his friend. 
 
 "I've only been polite to Him," he mused. "If 
 he were my friend, now, or I had posed as such, it 
 would be different. I couldn't do that. No, I'm 
 no such damned villain as that." 
 
 Despite the brandy, his teeth chattered with the 
 cold as he stood on tKe corner waiting for the elec- 
 tric car. 
 
 "I believe we'll go to Algiers," he mused. "I've 
 told so many people that I'm going to Venice. Yes, 
 it'll be better to go somewhere else and wait till 
 the world gets a little bit accustomed to this thing. 
 U-g-g-fi," he chattered, "Algiers and Nellie will 
 be better than this." And he thought of th'e ori- 
 ental background; and the different costumes in 
 which" Ke would paint his living statue, his odal- 
 isque, his Cleopatra, his Gulnare. 
 
 By the time he again reached his studio, all the 
 promptings of Eis rudimentary conscience were 
 silenced, and he Had become cynical, selfish, and 
 atheistic. 
 
 "Pshaw!" Ke sneered, as he pulled down the 
 Kiskilm curtains from the door of the alcove, "we 
 make a mistake in taking ourselves too seriously. 
 This world is only a great cheese, after all, and 
 men and women breed on it like maggots."
 
 ANOTHER SORT OF POET 341 
 
 The action let a shaft o'f afternoon sun info the 
 studio that fell upon BodenKausen's Madonna 
 hanging on the wall, and tinted the cataract of 
 loosened hair with gold. Dare started, and re- 
 mained standing before the picture worshiping. 
 
 "That's the way Helen's hair would look if she 
 were to let it down," he mused. "I never see a 
 beautiful woman, anyway, that I don't want to un- 
 fasten her hair. This chap Bodenhausen, Madonna 
 painter, must have a little of the sensual in him. 
 Well, "damn it, tKat's all right. You can't think 
 of the ideal woman with any degree of physical re- 
 pugnance. You can't see her, whether she be Ma- 
 donna or Venus, without wanting to carry her off 
 and break any possible rival's head with a club, 
 in the good old primitive fashion. That's the way 
 God or Jupiter, or Nature, or whoever he or it is, 
 made us. 
 
 "But beauty has a Higher attraction, too. Being 
 an expression of perfection, it lifts us toward the 
 Eternal Divine, which revels in perfections. What 
 a soft yielding body this Madonna has and the 
 artist has had the good sense to paint her without 
 shoes. Those feet are the climax of the whole 
 composition. Not too small, but warm, fragrant, 
 rosy, shapely. I should like to take this one in 
 my hand. Whaf is it that Sir John says?
 
 342 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 "Her feet beneath her petticoat 
 Like little mice stole in and out. 
 
 "Hum. Tfiat's not right, Sir John, not right. 
 You've got them entirely too small, though the lines 
 are dainty and have made you immortal. 
 
 "By showing these feet, Bodenhausen has given 
 us an impression of perfection in all details. What 
 a horror this thing would be if Mary had a bunion, 
 or if her second toe were too short! Ugh! I 
 should have pitched her out o' the window long ere 
 this." 
 
 He glanced again at the hair, still touched by 
 the red sun. Then he stooped and kissed one of the 
 feet. 
 
 "I pay you this tribute, Mary Helen," he mut- 
 tered, "I am always willing to kiss the feet of 
 beauty. 
 
 "What an ass is the man who asks whether or not 
 a fair woman has brains ! You might as well ask 
 it of a statue or a picture. All beautiful creations 
 have brains the brains of the man or the God who 
 made them!"
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII 
 
 THE HAPPIEST MAN 
 
 Two days later Mr. Dare was picking His way 
 daintily along La Salle Street. Though but four 
 o'clock in the afternoon, it was already growing 
 dark, and the electric lights were gleaming fiercely 
 in the back offices and basements. The temperature 
 had risen twenty degrees during the night, and 
 a rain, fine as spray, was persistently falling. The 
 walk was swimming in a thin coating of black filth, 
 and the Horses were slipping on the greasy cobble- 
 tones. The vast canon of the street was filled with 
 a steady roar and clatter that went up to the nar- 
 row lane of dirty sky above. Shouts and broken 
 fragments of speech flew off from the plutonian 
 hum like bits from a roaring wheel. 
 
 A ragged little newsboy scurried past in frantic 
 haste to reach his favorite corner, crying witH in- 
 domitable lungs the five-o'clock edition of an after- 
 noon sheet : "All about the turrible murder on the 
 West Side!" 
 
 343
 
 344 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD. 
 
 The driver of a street car, delayed by an apathetic 
 van, clanged his bell hopelessly. 
 
 The contour of the buildings loomed blackly from 
 the all-pervading gray. There was a raw feeling 
 in the air, as of the wind from melting ice. The 
 throng on the street at this Jiour consisted mostly 
 of men; and tfie artist noticed with a shudder that 
 they were all talking about money, entirely oblivious 
 of their surroundings. 
 
 Once, a face, fresh as a flower, peeped out at 
 him from the hood of a rain-coat, and a pair of 
 roguish eyes looked innocently and fearlessly into 
 his. He felt an interested thrill, the emotion of an 
 old beau who Has made a conquest and is conscious 
 that he is still a devil of a fellow among the women. 
 Let the sex look out for themselves 1 Had not the 
 fairest of them all fallen before fcis irresistible 
 charms ? 
 
 And, indeed, any lady with' the faintest streak of 
 adventure in her nature, might have taken a second, 
 look at him this afternoon, for he had certainly ef- 
 fected an elegant and distinguisKed air ; and in the 
 uncertain light he appeared young. He was cor- 
 rectly attired in a prince-albert, with light trousers, 
 and a long overcoat, with tails, that fitted grace- 
 fully into the hollow of his back. His thin, languid, 
 intellectual face stood out clearly above a collar of
 
 THE HAPPIEST MAN 345 
 
 extraordinary height; and a silk umbrella, held by 
 a hand neatly gloved in gray, protected his tall hat. 
 His feet were daintily shod, and he had somehow 
 managed not to soil his trousers. 
 
 At the corner of Madison Street he met Harry 
 Chapin and the two men nodded to each other. 
 
 Harry looked rather shabby and had entirely lost 
 the debonair bearing of his bachelor days. He 
 wore a spring overcoat that did not fit well about 
 the collar, and a cheap derby tilted back from his 
 high forehead. He walked with* a lifeless shuffle, 
 and his face had a weary, hopeless expression. Dare 
 turned and looked after him, impelled by that mixed 
 emotion of pity, friendliness, and gratitude which a 
 roue often feels for the deceived Husband. 
 
 "Hello, Chapin !" he cried, and Harry stopped and 
 turned. 
 
 "Out mashing?" asked the latter. "I see you've 
 got your glad rags on." 
 
 "No," laughed Dare, "I'm not a masher. My 
 mashing days are over. I leave that to young fel- 
 lows like you. Where are you going so fast ?" 
 
 "Back to the office. I've been over to the County 
 Building looking up some titles." 
 
 "At least you have time to take a drink ?" 
 
 Harry brightened. 
 
 "Sure. ..God doesn't expect me for a hour yet."
 
 346 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 "God?" 
 
 "Yes. Old Blodgett the man who sent me." 
 
 Dare passed his arm through that of the younger 
 man and looked about him, asking : 
 
 "Where's the nearest saloon ?" 
 
 "There's a pretty decent joint over there," re- 
 plied Harry. "Jimmy Ferguson's buffet." 
 
 "That'll do," said Dare. "You can get just as 
 drunk at a buffet as at a bar." 
 
 They crossed the street and went down two steps 
 into one of tfie most respectable saloons in the 
 cityj a small, narrow place with a couple of private 
 rooms for the convenience of men who wished to 
 talk confidentially over their wine or whisky. 
 
 They entered one of these and sat down at a 
 round table. 
 
 "What'll it be?" asked the artist, as the colored 
 waiter entered. 
 
 "I'll take a dry martini, with an olive in it," or- 
 dered Harry, with considerable animation. 
 
 Dare took a pony of French cognac ; and, as soon 
 as the drinks were consumed; ordered two more. 
 Harry straightened out first one leg and then the 
 other, as he felt in his pockets. 
 
 "It's up to me," he said, rather feebly, for he 
 found but twenty cents. 
 
 "Not a bit of it," replied Dare. "The fact is,
 
 There's a pretty 
 decent joint
 
 THE HAPPIEST MAN 347 
 
 I'm going away Saturday, and this is a sort of 
 farewell treat." 
 
 "Going away ? to New York ? I wish I could get 
 away somewhere for a while any old place. I've 
 got tired of going down to my office and back Home 
 again. Year in and year out the same thing and 
 Sunday the longest day in the week. I believe it 
 would do me good to break loose and go on a spree 
 regular old-fashioned round-up. Any old thing 
 to break up the monotony of life." 
 
 Harry had finished his second cocktail, and was 
 trying to spear the olive with a tooth-pick. His 
 stomach was empty, he was unaccustomed to drink, 
 and his manhood was at a low ebb. The two cock- 
 tails, which in his palmy days would not Have af- 
 fected him, now brought him to that stage of in- 
 cipient intoxication where a man feels sorry for 
 himself and desirous of sympathy. 
 
 "Why don't you take a night off once in a while ?" 
 asked Dare, sipping his cognac. 
 
 "I'm on to myself. If I ever got started once, 
 it would be all off. I'd lose my job, and then where 
 would I be ? Where would Nell be ?" 
 
 "Yes, of course," replied the artist, "there's your 
 wife to think of. A married man has obligations." 
 
 "Yes, that's it, a married man has obligations. 
 Marriage, is for better or worse."
 
 348 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD, 
 
 ' The thought occurred to Dare that if Harry were 
 a little more under the influence of drink, he might 
 possibly reveal his feelings for his wife. If he did 
 not love Nellie, if he were tired of her, the knowl- 
 edge would take much of the moral ugliness out of 
 the act which the artist was contemplating. 
 
 "Let's have a quart of champagne," he suggested. 
 "I'm leaving the country for good. I'm going to 
 Naples. A man doesn't go to Naples every day." 
 
 "Champagne?" repeated Harry, more interested 
 in the old, familiar sound than in the artist's desti- 
 nation: "I haven't drunk a glass of champagne 
 since I was married. But ain't things comin' pret- 
 ty swift? I don't want to get good. What'd my 
 wife say?" 
 
 "I fear you're taking married life too seriously," 
 laughed the artist. "The model married man never 
 goes home drunk. He waits till he sobers up. But 
 I'll explain things to Nel Mrs. Chapin." 
 
 The negro brought the champagne with that ad- 
 ded respect in his manner which] this particular 
 order always inspires in the colored breast. Even 
 Harry, unpromising as he had heretofore appeared 
 to the waiter, now became a person of importance. 
 "Gents do not buy wine for nobodies," he rea- 
 soned, and he filled Harry's glass with an ob-
 
 THE HAPPIEST MAN 349 
 
 sequiousness that brought back to his mind the old 
 days when he was a star guest at Ma'am Galli's. 
 
 "Here's a pleasant voyage," said Harry as they 
 touched glasses. "Naples is a pretty nice place, 
 isn't it ?" 
 
 He finished the second glass with the inconse- 
 quential remark : 
 
 "That'll help some." 
 
 During the third, he placed his twenty cents upon 
 the table and repeated : 
 
 "That'll help some." 
 
 "Put your money back in your pocket," said Dare, 
 smiling. "This is my day. What do you want?" 
 The artist was perfectly sober. 
 
 "Some cigarettes." 
 
 "All right, I'll order some Condax straw tips, 
 real Turkish you know. The genuine thing." 
 
 "Not for me," said Harry. "America's good 
 enough for me. I'll take a small package of Sweet 
 Caporal." 
 
 They were brought, and he lighted one, remark- 
 ing again : 
 
 "That'll help some." 
 
 "You were saying," observed Dare, fearful lest 
 his companion should lose his senses entirely, "that 
 marriage was for better or for worse."
 
 350 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 "Yes, that's so fer better 'r fer worse princi- 
 pally worse." 
 
 "But that's treason, old man, with such a beauti- 
 ful and accomplished wife as you have. You ought 
 to be the happiest man on earth." 
 
 "Happies' man on earth," repeated Harry. "Say, 
 ol' man, she's a peach. Here's to the peach !" 
 
 "Then why do you say that 'marriage is princi- 
 pally worse'?" persisted Dare. "Isn't she as good 
 as she is beautiful ?" 
 
 Harry began to ramble on in a maudlin whine : 
 
 "Shay, Mr. Dare, don't you ever get married. 
 Take my word frit, marriage'z a failure. Look a' 
 me. I'm an ass a hem-stitched ass. W'y b'fore 
 I wuz married, I had a good time money 'n my 
 pocket, an' friends, an' a good time I had a good 
 time. Now wha's life for me ? Just a damn grind. 
 Every day the same, an' Sunday the longes' day of 
 all." 
 
 Resting with his elbows on the table and his 
 head in his hands, he was the picture of drunken 
 self-pity. 
 
 "D'you know me b'fore I was married?" he 
 asked. "No, of course not. Well, if you had, 
 you'd know what marriage has done f'r me. Kind 
 of a 'b'fore taking and after taking,' y' know, like 
 you see in the patent pill advertisements. Only'n
 
 THE HAPPIEST MAN 351 
 
 my case you ought to put the 'after taking' 
 first see? ought to put it first, an' call it 'b'fore 
 taking' see ?" 
 
 "Yes," said Dare smiling, "I see." 
 
 "I'm a sort of horrible example of matrimony," 
 continued Harry. "I married f'r love umph, 
 what's love? It's the s'motion emotion, I mean, 
 of a damn fool. 'S a dream that you wake up from 
 when it's too late. Misser D-Dare, a man ain't 
 responsible when he's in love ; he ough'n't to be held 
 responsible f'r his ac's. But he is ; an' he goes and 
 spoils his whole life at a time when he ain't respon- 
 sible when he's bug house." 
 
 "You ought to enlist in the army," remarked 
 Dare. "Unhappy married men make tKe bravest 
 soldiers." 
 
 The situation was becoming exquisite; it quite 
 restored him to his happiest self. 
 
 "You see," continued Harry, "it's like this. You 
 marry f'r love, an' then you've got to keep right 
 on living with a woman after you get wise again. 
 'Fore I was married, I had friends, 'n' good clothes, 
 and I ate porter-house steaks and camembert 
 cheese. WHat do I get out of matrimony? You 
 see me look a' me an' look a* you Misser Dare, 
 I like you. You're a frien' o' mine. Promise me 
 you'll never, get married."
 
 352 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 Harry insisted on shaking hands with his friend 
 over the promise. 
 
 "Does she love you ?" asked the artist slyly. 
 
 "Love me? Yes she does not. All she thinks 
 of is running around to hen-clubs and talking 
 French. She never thinks of me. All I get out 
 o' marriage is a place to sleep in that's no home 
 at all, an' she spends all my money f'r things that 
 I don't want and, anyhow, don't get." 
 
 "Well, perhaps you're to be congratulated," 
 laughed Dare. "Married men say there's no greater 
 nuisance than a wife who is too deeply in love with 
 her husband. She's a very beautiful woman. Per- 
 haps somebody'll elope with her." 
 
 "Elope with her?" whined Harry. "There's no 
 such good luck f'r me. B'sides, Nell wouldn't do 
 it. She's too damn r'ligious. Why, that woman 
 won't even play cards with me, b'cause she thinks 
 it's wrong." 
 
 "Oh, you never can tell what a woman is going 
 to do next," insisted Dare. "She's certainly beau- 
 tiful enough to tempt anybody." 
 
 "Tha's what I thought b'fore I married her," re- 
 plied Harry, slowly shaking his head. "Tha's just 
 what I thought." Then he looked at the door to 
 see if it were closed and Hitched his chair up closer 
 to the artist.
 
 THE HAPPIEST MAN 353 
 
 Poor Harry ! drunk as he was, a certain amount 
 of self-respect and delicacy clung to him. 
 
 "Misser Dare," he whispered, "yo 're a frien' o' 
 mine. One o' the bes' frien's I ever had. I know 
 that. S-shake. 'F you could see that woman 
 slouchin' 'round the house 'z I see her, you'd never 
 think she was a good-looker f'r a minute. You 
 ought t' see her with her hair down once, f 'rinstance. 
 Changes the whole expression of her face, somehow. 
 Makes me think of a rat lookin' out of a hole. An' 
 she's got the ugliest feet they're as red as boiled 
 lobsters, an' all swelled up at the joints. Makes 
 her feet kind o' kite-shaped jus' like boys' kites. 
 I a man oughtn' talk this way 'bout his wife, but 
 you're a frien' o' mine bes' frien' I ever had, 
 Misser Dare, 'n' I know you'd do anything on earth 
 to help me. Yes, her feet are like a pair of kites 
 you could tie strings to 'em and fly 'em." 
 
 Poor Harry ! The artist gulped down a glass of 
 champagne at a swallow, and a look of disgust 
 spread over his thin, esthetic face. He remem- 
 bered his last interview with the Bodenhausen Ma- 
 donna. 
 
 "Whew," he said, looking at his watch. "We've 
 been Here an hour now. We must be going." 
 
 "D'you think God would notice I've been drink-
 
 354 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 ing?" asked Harry, struggling into his overcoat, 
 of which the lining in one sleeve was loose. 
 
 "We'll walk up and down in the cold air for a 
 few minutes," said Dare, "and then you'll be all 
 right." 
 
 As they parted at the corner, Harry was sober 
 enough to feel ashamed. 
 
 "Don't mention to anybody what I told you," he 
 pleaded. "I put it on a little too thick, I guess. 
 Nell's all right. At any rate, I married her with 
 my eyes open, and I've got to take my medicine." 
 
 "Not a word," said the artist, sympathetically. 
 "I'm going away to Ven Naples this week, and 
 nobody knows anything about you over there. But 
 cheer up, old man. Somebody'll run off with her 
 yet ; you see if they don't feet and all."
 
 CHAPTER XXIX 
 
 - THE TRUMPET NARCISSUS 
 
 What puppets of fortune we are ! The slightest, 
 most adventitious circumstances, a word dropped 
 here or there, a chance meeting on the street, the 
 failure to catch a car, may work the most porten- 
 tous change in our destinies and alter the whole 
 current of our lives. And through it all, even those 
 who deny the existence of a God, must see an in- 
 exorable reckoning in the long run, a paying off 
 of old debts, and a final compensation of some sort 
 for those who are faithful to their best selves. If 
 there is no God, and the universe is run by that 
 mighty and brainless but exact automaton, Law, 
 then final justice must be one of the principles of 
 the eternal Order. 
 
 There is no man so faithless but he has a super- 
 stitious fear that the consequences of his evil acts 
 will overtake him ; none so cynical that he does not 
 feel surer of his future if his life be right. 
 
 Roth's good fortune and reward came to him 
 355
 
 356 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 through the fact that he was in the habit of buying 
 his bulbs, seeds and potted plants at Wittbold's, on 
 Buckingham Place. He might easily have gone to 
 some other florist, but he had been enticed therein 
 one day by a display of begonias, and found the 
 beautiful young daughter of the proprietor so in- 
 telligent and obliging that He became a regular 
 patron. Moreover, he found enthusiasts there with 
 whom he could talk concerning his beloved plants, 
 people who responded to his own enthusiasm and 
 respected it. 
 
 WHen, therefore, a wealthy St. Louis brewer 
 wrote to old man Wittbold, and asked to be recom- 
 mended to a competent German gardener, a man 
 to superintend a greenhouse and a park and a lawn, 
 the young lady told her father th'at she believed 
 Roth was just the man for the place. The brewer 
 came to the city, met Roth, was cKarmed witK 
 him, and hired him at a salary of two thousand 
 dollars a year, with cottage rent free, and a patch 
 of ground for his own vegetable garden. 
 
 "To live among flowers, mein Schatz," he whis- 
 pered to his wife, with tears in his eyes and his 
 arm around her waist, "in a cottage oh, you shall 
 see the vines tfiat shall over it grow ! And the dear 
 children playing under the trees ! Ah, life shall be 
 one song, eh, my love?"
 
 THE TRUMPET NARCISSUS 357 
 
 "Life has always been a song with you," she re- 
 plied, her low, sweet voice trembling with joy. 
 
 "True," he cried, "love is the music of life, and 
 where that is, the heart sings, in cottage, in palace, 
 or in tenement." 
 
 While they were packing up Harry scarcely 
 realized that th'ey were actually going, nor was 
 he seized with a full sense of tKe utter desolation 
 which their departure meant for him. He was 
 uncle Harry to the Roth children, for whom he ex- 
 perienced a feeling almost paternal, and whose little 
 voices filled tKe empty chambers in his own heart 
 with a welcome music. TKe sound of hammering 
 and of the dragging of heavy boxes about on the 
 floor above made him sad, it is true; but the chil- 
 dren were there yet, and he saw the Roths every 
 morning and evening. 
 
 When he came up the stairs, if the door above 
 were open, Ke could hear the gleeful shouts of Fritz 
 and Bismarck Goethe. They would have made a 
 picnic of th'e preparations for moving had the 
 family been going to meaner fortunes instead of 
 brighter. 
 
 At last the van was sent away, and Harry ac- 
 companied th'e Roth family to tKe station on Friday 
 morning, the day before the Saturday set by th'e 
 artist for his elopement with Nellie.
 
 358 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 Grandpa Roth took charge of Bismarck Goethe, 
 whom he carried to the Evanston Avenue car on 
 account of the mud. Fritz, in knickerbockers, a 
 German cap, and a neat little overcoat made by his 
 mother from an old garment of his 'father's, ran 
 on ahead, returning every moment to shout that he 
 heard a car coming. His face was flushed with ex- 
 citement, and his flaxen curls danced in the wind. 
 Mrs. Roth carried a bundle and a cloth telescope 
 grip that nearly pulled her arm to the sidewalk, 
 and Harry took charge of the hamper. Roth him- 
 self bore a flower-pot in each hand, containing 
 plants for which he had a peculiar affection, a Ro- 
 man hyacinth and a trumpet narcissus. 
 
 Evalina, wearing a long cravenette coat and a 
 new spring hat trimmed with violets that somewhat 
 forced the season, tripped along with her hands 
 in her pockets, the only thoroughly American figure 
 in the group. There was something reminiscent 
 of continental peasant life in all this carrying of 
 bundles. 
 
 Grandpa Roth was greatly distressed lest they 
 lose the train, during the entire journey to the 
 depot. When they finally arrived, he ran about 
 the gloomy, clanging station with Bismarck 
 Goethe's head nestled against his shaggy be- 
 whiskered face, and inquired of several employees
 
 THE TRUMPET NARCISSUS 359 
 
 which was the St. Louis train. After a burly po- 
 liceman had confirmed the information given by 
 each of these, he adjusted his big iron-rimmed 
 spectacles and read the announcements on the 
 board. Then he returned to the party, who were 
 standing among their bundles talking, and pointed 
 out to them the right track. 
 
 "Subbose ve got on the wrong train," he said; 
 "ve might come by Milvaukee, or Oshkosh, or or 
 Biffalo." 
 
 And when the company's crier called out the 
 names of a long list of stations ending with St. 
 Louis, he shouted triumphantly : 
 
 "Didn't I told you so?" and started briskly for 
 the train, beckoning and shouting: "Come on, 
 come on, or ve got left !" 
 
 "I'm all broke up at losing you folks," Harry 
 was saying to Roth. "You're the only friends I've 
 got. I don't know wliat I'm ever going to do with- 
 out you I swear to God I don't. And the kids 
 it seems as if they were my own. It seems as 
 though you were takin' my own kids away from 
 me. I ain't got any of my own, you know." 
 
 "You poor man!" said Mrs. Roth, who with a 
 woman's intuition knew th'at Harry's wife was to 
 blame for his unhappiness. "We'll write to you 
 often, and the children shall put something into
 
 360 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 every letter. Bismarck shall write a letter every 
 week to uncle Harry, won't you, Bismarck? He 
 writes to his auntie Frieda in Germany," she ex- 
 plained. "He just makes marks all over a sheet of 
 paper, and she's so glad to get them! She says 
 she thinks more of them than she does of my let- 
 ters." 
 
 "You'll write to uncle Harry, won't you?" said 
 Chap in, pulling the boy out of his grandfather's 
 arms. "Uncle Harry loves you." 
 
 "Mama and papa and Santa Claus and Humpty 
 Dumpty loves me," replied the little fellow, "and 
 unc' Harry loves me, too." 
 
 "You must have children of your own," said 
 Roth; "you're so fond of 'em; but you don't know 
 what it is to love one till you have some of your 
 own. Ah, when your own baby's voice calls you 
 'papa,' then you'll Hear music soul music! Then 
 your work will be easy all the day, and your home 
 the dearest place on earth." 
 
 The time for the train's departure arrived un- 
 expectedly, as is always the case when there are 
 heartfelt good bys to be said. Harry helped the 
 family and the bundles on board, kissed the chil- 
 dren, shook hands Hurriedly with the elders, and 
 started for the door.
 
 THE TRUMPET NARCISSUS 361 
 
 Roth rushed after him at the last moment and 
 kissed him squarely on the lips. 
 
 "Here, take this," he said, offering the hyacinth. 
 "No, this, for I love it the most. And remember 
 what I say about the children. They of marriage 
 are the flowers. Where they bloom, there is the 
 perfume of holy love." 
 
 A moment later Harry was standing on tKe plat- 
 form, holding awkwardly in his hand a flower-pot 
 containing a bush of long, slender leaves, above 
 which" nodded three or four trumpet-shaped blos- 
 soms of the large narcissus. 
 
 The RotH family were at the window of the mov- 
 ing train, waving their hands at him ; but the pict- 
 ure that lingered longest in his mind was the 
 shaggy countenance of grandpa Roth, pressed 
 against the pane, between the fresh, eager faces 
 of Fritz and Bismarck Goethe.
 
 CHAPTER XXX 
 
 HIS ONE CHANCE 
 
 Harry came home in the evening through a driz- 
 zling rain, his narcissus under his arm, and over 
 his head an umbrella whose one naked rib projected 
 like an accusing finger. 
 
 He was somewhat comforted by finding Nellie 
 strangely sweet to him. She kissed him as he en- 
 tered, an unusual attention, and asked him solicit- 
 ously if he had wet his feet. 
 
 "What a beautiful flower!" she exclaimed, tak- 
 ing the plant from his hands and setting it on a 
 chair. "We must see that this one does not die. 
 Where did you get it, dear?" 
 
 "Roth gave it to me," he replied, "just as they 
 were going away." 
 
 "Such an interesting family !" she sighed ; "and 
 did the dear little boys cry when you bade them 
 good by?" 
 
 There was a hectic flusK in her cheek, which 
 added to her beauty; and a nervous alertness in 
 362
 
 HIS ONE CHANCE 363 
 
 her movements, which made Harry dimly wonder 
 if she had taken pity on his sorrow and was going 
 to turn over a new leaf. The excellence of the 
 supper which she had prepared for him almost 
 confirmed this belief. Her trunk, for the man's 
 idea of a satchel proved inadequate to the woman, 
 was packed and waiting; in readiness at that mo- 
 ment. 
 
 Harry's hopes were short-lived, for Nellie left 
 the table before the meal was finished, and, taking 
 up a book, pretended to'read. 
 
 "Don't mind me," she explained; "I'm getting 
 up a paper for the club, and I have to put in every 
 minute." 
 
 She had not yet Heard from the artist, and she 
 was in a nervous state almost bordering on Hys- 
 teria. Whenever she heard feet on the walk be- 
 low her heart pounded. Perhaps that was the 
 messenger, and how should she take in the letter 
 without exciting her husband's suspicions? Once, 
 the street door opened and shut with a slam, and 
 she arose, glancing warily at Harry and support- 
 ing herself by resting both hands upon the table, 
 faint almost to falling. It was a false alarm, and 
 she sat down again. 
 
 Harry stifled an oath when she left the supper 
 table, and- finished his meal in gloomy silence.
 
 364 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD. 
 
 Then he went upstairs and looked into the Roths' 
 deserted flat. A dim light from the street lamp 
 shone in through the windows upon the bare walls 
 and flickered faintly about the ceiling. He 
 scratched a match on the sole of his shoe and lit 
 the gas. He wandered through the parlors, out 
 into the kitchen, and into the bedrooms. 
 
 There were square patches of a lighter shade on 
 the walls where the pictures had been, and the 
 parlor floors were covered with old newspapers, 
 mostly copies of the Staats Zeitung, that had 
 been laid beneath the carpets. Roth's wire flower- 
 rack, which was not worth moving, still stood by 
 the window, with one little red pot on it, containing 
 a dead and withered flower. In one of the bed- 
 rooms Harry found an old hat of Evalina's, from 
 which she had torn the trimming and then thrown 
 the thing away. Everything was gone from the 
 mother's sleeping room except an antiquated wooden 
 cradle, which even Bismarck Goethe had outgrown, 
 and which had been kept under the bed in readiness 
 for matrimonial contingencies. Roth himself made 
 it in the days when they were living happily on 
 twelve dollars a week, and wished to take it along 
 for sentimental reasons ; but he had been overpow- 
 ered by Evalina's unexpected outcry: 
 
 "What, that old Noah's ark? That old chop-
 
 HIS ONE CHANCE 365 
 
 ping bowl ? We're taking so much trash along al- 
 ready that people will think we're a pack of beg- 
 gars." 
 
 So the baby's cradle was left behind. On the 
 kitchen table was a pile of broken and discarded 
 dishes, and the remnants of a last lunch some 
 pieces of bread, some egg shells, and a tin box with 
 one sardine in it. 
 
 On the kitchen walls and in the bedrooms were 
 numerous pictures from the Sunday editions of the 
 newspapers. These were tacked up, and in two 
 or three instances one corner lopped down, where 
 a tack had been pulled out for a special emergency 
 of moving. 
 
 Harry felt overpowered by sadness. He was as 
 deeply moved as though" he were visiting the grave 
 of a dear friend, now no more. Indeed, he knew 
 the Roth family was dead to him. St. Louis, with 
 his meager pocketbook and his implacable round 
 of work, was as far off as another world could 
 have been. 
 
 Though he knew it not, he was visiting a vault 
 the saddest possible kind of vault a deserted 
 house. The place, like the lineaments of a dead 
 face, was familiar yet strange. Everything that 
 reminded him of his dear friends only served to 
 make more poignant the fact that they were gone.
 
 366 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAQ 
 
 As in the case of death, so in that of an empty 
 House, familiarity and desertion are the chief ele- 
 ments of grief, each strengthening the other. The 
 place was haunted. The very silence whispered 
 of happy, childish voices ; the phantoms of familiar 
 forms took vague shape in the emptiness. 
 
 As Harry left the flat he stepped on a soft ob- 
 ject in the hall, and, stooping, picked it up. It 
 was Bismarck Goethe's toy dog, a comical, shape- 
 less object, whose legs resembled the tied corners 
 of a wine skin. It was very dirty, and one of the 
 glass beads that did for eyes was gone. But Harry 
 put it in his pocket, murmuring: 
 
 "The little feller's dog! I wonder if he'll miss 
 it when he goes to sleep?" For Bismarck Goethe 
 often refused to close his eyes until he had made 
 a complete inventory of his playthings, and they 
 were all piled upon the bed beside him. 
 
 During Harry's brief absence from the room, 
 Nellie ran every moment to the window, parted the 
 lace curtains, and peered down into the street. She 
 did not even know yet which 1 train they were to 
 take. Perhaps he would send word in the morn- 
 ing, but it seemed strange that he should wait al- 
 most till the last moment. 
 
 Now that she had really made up her mind to go, 
 she felt no longer the least compunction. She
 
 HIS ONE CHANCE 367 
 
 threw all prudence, all religious scruples, modesty, 
 to the winds; and was possessed of a delirium to 
 be away with Dare on the train with him, on the 
 sea with him, in foreign lands alone with him. If 
 she did not hear from him soon, it seemed as though 
 she must cry out. What sort of stupid brute 
 was her husband that he did not notice her agita- 
 tion? Even his blindness in this matter added to 
 her disgust for Harry. He was so stupid! It 
 seemed to her as though the very air were rife with 
 Dare, as though his name were written on tfie walls. 
 
 When she heard Harry's footsteps on the stairs, 
 she dropped again into her chair and picked up the 
 book. He shuffled past without so much as look- 
 ing at her, lit the gas in the front room, and com- 
 menced to read a paper-covered novel that h'e had 
 bought for ten cents a few days before. It was a 
 love story of the Bertha Clay order, and it did not 
 appeal to him. He slid down in the chair, his 
 chin dropped upon his breast, and he began to 
 snore. 
 
 Nellie glanced at him. He had grown older fast 
 during the last year. He was quite bald now on 
 the top of his head, and the straight, black hairs 
 which fell to his ears on either side were powdered 
 with encroaching gray. There was no gaiety in 
 his thin Countenance, and with every snore there
 
 368 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 was a slight uplift to his upper lip and a wrinkling 
 of his nose that was pitifully droll. Baldness had 
 made his forehead unnaturally high and narrow, 
 and his temples seemed cut down square, as though 
 sawed. He was a picture of sleeping weakness and 
 petulance, but Nellie found no pity in her heart for 
 him. Pity is akin to love, and she loved Dare. 
 
 While Harry snored, the messenger came, a tiny 
 boy who stamped and stumbled up the steps with 
 noise enough for a drunken giant. Nellie opened 
 the door before he had a chance to knock, and 
 snatched the letter from him with joyful eagerness. 
 She knew what it contained : simply some figures, 
 probably, that no one would understand but her- 
 self the hour at which the train departed. 
 
 "This here message was to uv been brought at 
 t'ree o'clock," explained the boy, as she wrote her 
 name in his book, "but there wan't no kids in de 
 office. I'd have been here an hour earlier, but I 
 got onto de Evanston car and went about two miles 
 out o' my way. I done meself out o' ten cents car 
 fare." 
 
 He waited for a tip, or at least to be reimbursed, 
 but saw that it was hopeless as soon as she began 
 to read her letter. 
 
 "Gee ! that must have been bad news what I car- 
 ried out io de Nort' Side," he explained to a com-
 
 HIS ONE CHANCE 369 
 
 rade later. "De lady clutched herself like dis, see, 
 like dis, Chimmy, and staggered up against de door, 
 an' said, 'My God!' just like a lady in a t'eater." 
 
 This is what Nellie read: 
 
 "My Darling This is to bid you good by, and 
 to ask your forgiveness for any pain that I may 
 have brought into your life. When in your dear 
 presence the other day, I gave way to my love for 
 you, and yielded to the overwhelming passion of 
 the moment. If I were to see you now, I should 
 carry you off with me to the end of the world. 
 But when I am away from you, I realize that it 
 would be selfish and ignoble of me to ruin your 
 reputation for my own selfish pleasure. You are 
 now a respectable married woman, and you were 
 happy before you knew me. If I were to take you 
 away, your high principles and religious training 
 would triumph in the end, and you would be un- 
 happy. You would weary of the old man, and 
 then where would you be? As it is, you will soon 
 forget him, and then you will realize that I do this 
 for love of you. Try to realize it a little now, will 
 you not, my darling? If you knew how much it 
 makes me suffer to write this, and to do this, you 
 would know Jiow much I love you. I shall be a 
 lonely man all the rest of my life, Nellie. My 
 darling, good by^ good by. Having taken this re-
 
 370 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 solve, I can no longer endure to remain so near 
 you, and I take the train for New York this after- 
 noon." 
 
 No name was signed, but Nellie needed no signa- 
 ture to assure her who was the author of that 
 minute, elegant hand, with the long "1's" and let- 
 ters below the line. 
 
 She came into the room like one stunned, holding 
 the missive in her Hand, forgetful of Harry. There 
 was a roaring in her ears, and her staring eyes saw 
 Dare's face looking pale out from the window of a 
 rushing train rushing away from her forever. 
 
 Harry woke with a start and a comical, sensa- 
 tional finale to a long snore. He glanced at his 
 wife over the top of his glasses, and his eye was 
 attracted by the white thing in her hand. 
 
 "Is it a bill, Nell?" he asked petulantly. 
 
 The Chapins' mail consisted ordinarily of numer- 
 ous letters from Ireland to the servant girl, of bills, 
 and an occasional tirade from the old fanatic out 
 in Dixon. 
 
 Harry was not greatly interested in it. 
 
 "Yes, it's a bill," she replied, furtively tearing 
 it into bits as she went toward her bedroom. "The 
 the milk bill." And then she added, with a cheap 
 woman's supreme instinct for concealment, even 
 when wounded to death :
 
 HIS ONE CHANCE 371 
 
 "People who who send bills never get your 
 name wrong." 
 
 She had once heard Dare say that. 
 
 So passed Harry's one chance ; and the years are 
 weary, the years are long. He tossed the book 
 upon a small table and yawned as he glanced aim- 
 lessly about the familiar room. He felt sleepy no 
 longer, and he could not read. Solitaire was re- 
 pugnant to his unselfish nature, and Nell thought 
 she preferred Maeterlinck to cards. As he leaned 
 forward in the little wooden rocker, with a sham 
 tapestry on the back representing a drinking scene 
 at a Swiss inn, it squeaked dismally. All the furni- 
 ture, shrunk by the steam heat, had become queru- 
 lous and rickety. Long strands of pliable willow, 
 loosened from the chairs, Hung about their legs like 
 fallen socks or dying serpents. The dark green 
 paper, though Harry did not know it, had a de- 
 pressing effect. It was darker than two years ago, 
 and the peacock-blue border was almost black. 
 There were none of those cheerful effects about the 
 room with which a true woman, however inartistic, 
 decorates the home that she loves. 
 
 The wind was high and Harry could hear it 
 breathing through the bare limbs of the tree with- 
 out the window, and wailing as it fled down the 
 court between his house and the one adjoining.
 
 372 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 The cold waves of the Lake, beating against the 
 breakwater, made a low, steady roar, as of a rail- 
 road train, rushing by in the distance and the night. 
 And at regular intervals an awful sound came to 
 his ears through the disconsolate darkness the 
 most desolate and mournful sound in the world. It 
 was the homesick yawn of an old lion in the park.
 
 CHAPTER XXXI 
 
 A CLEAN RECORD 
 
 Edward Crissey was elected to Congress in the 
 fall, after a stormy campaign, during which he 
 stumped his district with surprising eloquence, 
 power and indefatigability. Although all the forces 
 of. unlimited money and unprincipled intrigue 
 were arrayed against him, he carried the day by 
 sheer personal magnetism, force of character, and 
 honesty too evident to be doubted. When he ap- 
 peared upon a platform, self-contained, though his 
 handsome face was flushed, when he ran his fingers 
 through his white hair and extended his Hand, 
 everybody within reach of his voice, friend and 
 enemy, was eager to hear what he had to say. And 
 when that clear, earnest voice, audible to the far- 
 thest limits of the largest throng, thrilled the ex- 
 pectant air, all doubts as to his motives, all poison- 
 ous rumors, were swept away as noxious vapors 
 disappear before the sane breath of morning. 
 
 He was elected, by a small majority, it is true, 
 373
 
 374 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 but he was elected; and great was the rejoicing 
 among the decent element. For Crissey represent- 
 ed that large but usually inert body of voters who 
 too often keep out of politics as something repug- 
 nant to men of finer feelings. College professors 
 made speeches for him; the best class of business 
 men canvassed in his behalf; retired property hold- 
 ers, wKo h'ad drifted away from the turmoil of the 
 fighting world, awakened to an interest in his cam- 
 paign for decency's sake. 
 
 During all this time Dolly saw less of her hus- 
 band than ever. In the whirl and stress of his 
 great political battle he seemed almost to have for- 
 gotten the existence of his family. He was away 
 .whole days at a time, and, when in the city, he flit- 
 ted in and out of the House at unexpected hours, 
 giving a hurried kiss here and there, and inquiring 
 after the health of Dolly and the children in a cheery 
 but perfunctory manner. Many meals were eaten 
 without him ; and when at home he spent much of 
 his time in his study, dictating in a monotonous 
 murmur to his secretary, or declaiming eloquent pas- 
 sages of forthcoming speeches. 
 
 Often he was closeted with political emissaries 
 and aids, men from every grade of society, some of 
 them characters whom Dolly felt sure were dis- 
 reputable.
 
 A CLEAN RECORD 375 
 
 And the poor little woman was suffering all this 
 time in silence ; for when the poisoned barb of jeal- 
 ousy enters a woman's heart, you may pull away 
 the shaft, but tKe head of the arrow remains behind. 
 She knew that He must be very busy, but she did not 
 believe that he was as preoccupied as he pretended. 
 Moreover, the opposition could not 'forego that 
 cheap weapon of attack upon his private character, 
 and dark hints were thrown out, especially in Mur- 
 chison's organ, that he was not the saint that he 
 would Have the public believe. It was even in- 
 timated tKat there were certain scandalous episodes 
 in his private career, cleverly concealed. 
 
 These latter rumors, so easily started and so 
 easily believed by the prurient-minded, he treated 
 with silent contempt; but Dolly read them all se- 
 cretly, and, while sKe was too proud even to admit 
 that she knew of them, they added to Her misery. 
 She could not forget the giggling interview in her 
 husband's study, nor the private meeting by night 
 in his office. Upon such frail foundations of proof 
 does jealousy build its palace of misery. 
 
 The night after the election there was a grand 
 and noisy demonstration before Crissey's new 
 House. A shouting and turbulent crowd began to 
 straggle up as early as seven o'clock, and later the 
 strains of a^rass band were heard in the distance,
 
 376 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 the music gradually increasing in intensity as the 
 players approached. The sounds suddenly ceased 
 as a tune was finished somewhere down the street, 
 only to break out again with startling and tremen- 
 dous fervor beneath the very windows to the in- 
 spiring strains of "Hail Columbia." Little Dor- 
 othy fluttered to the windows and pressed her sweet 
 face against the pane, shrieking, "Moosic ! Moosic ! 
 The moosic mans has come !" 
 
 The street was now a fairy wilderness of waving 
 torches, a pandemonium of multitudinous shouts. 
 And at last a certain method took possession of this 
 indiscriminate uproar, that yielded to the insistence 
 of a nucleus that was shouting one refrain in time 
 a refrain that was strengthened by the rhythmical 
 ''Boom boom, boom, boom, boom!" of a drum. 
 Order grew out of chaos, the throng was shouting 
 as one man : 
 
 "Crissey! Crissey Congressman Crissey !" 
 "Speech, speech speech, speech, speech." 
 The new member came out upon an upper bal- 
 cony, attired in full evening dress, handsomer and 
 manlier looking than he had ever appeared before 
 in his life. He was smiling, and he ran his fingers 
 through his white hair in the old familiar, the be- 
 loved, way. 
 He extended both his arms in a gesture com-
 
 A CLEAN RECORD 377 
 
 manding silence, but neither th'e throng nor the 
 band would have it so. While the crowd shouted 
 its hoarse admiration and joy, the musicians played, 
 witK all the breath in their lungs, "Lo, the Con- 
 quering Hero Comes." 
 
 At least half a dozen times he opened his mouth 
 ineffectually, like a man trying to shout "down a 
 storm at sea. But when finally Ke could be heard, 
 there was a great stilling of the waters. 
 
 "My fellow citizens," he began, "my dear neigh- 
 bors and friends " and what a speech he made ! 
 I All the triumph of half a lifetime's struggle, the 
 joy in a brave fight fairly won, the gratitude of an 
 honest man who had not been betrayed, poured from 
 his lips in spontaneous, strenuous, eloquent periods. 
 
 When he finished with feeling, "And now, good 
 night, my neighbors and friends," there was no 
 doubt that he was the most popular man in town, 
 and that the future held for him whatever clusters 
 of promise he might wish to reach' after. The 
 flambeaux fluttered away quietly and poured down 
 the street a stream of flaring lights. But before 
 they had entirely disappeared from view, some one 
 with leather lungs shouted : 
 
 "What's the matter with Crissey?" and a hun- 
 dred voices replied : "He's all right." 
 
 And thetand, with" no direction from the leader,
 
 378 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 broke f out with the true national air of America, 
 thatjuhe'to which Americans fight and rejoice best, 
 that tune" which bursts from them spontaneously 
 whenever they" wish to express their tensest feelings 
 in music! 
 
 "There'll Be a Hot Time in the Old Town To- 
 night !" 
 
 Oh, that some Tyrtaeus would write fitting words 
 to suit it! 
 
 Little Dorothy lifted her short skirts and pirouet- 
 ted about the parlor, singing 1 frantically: 
 
 One dark night, when everybody wuz in bed, 
 Mrs. O' Larry lit her lamp 'n the shed; 
 The cow kicked it over and winked he's eye an' 
 said
 
 CHAPTER XXXII 
 
 A CRUCIAL MOMENT 
 
 The unhappiness in Dolly Crissey's life arose 
 principally from loneliness and lack of comradeship 
 with the husband whom she worshiped. His busi- 
 ness and the intellectual world in which he lived 
 were as inaccessible to fter as the planet Mars. 
 Though proud of him to the point of worship, she 
 often felt that she would have been happier had he 
 been a commoner man, so that she might have 
 shared his mental struggles, and have understood 
 and lightened his secret disappointments. He was 
 most kind to her, it is true; she could not remem- 
 ber that he had ever spoken a cross word to her. 
 But He did not make love to her. Dolly was one 
 of those women who retain through all the years 
 the heart of the young bride. One tender word, 
 one lover-like kiss, is worth more to them than 
 social triumphs or aught that wealth can give. 
 
 Dolly could not conceive how anybody could live 
 without love ; and as soon as she felt herself neglect- 
 379
 
 380 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 ed she took for granted that her husband must be 
 interested in some one else. 
 
 She so wanted to help him, too ; to work side by 
 side with him! As he steadily mounted the ladder 
 of success, her own occupations grew more and 
 more insignificant in her eyes. To look after meals, 
 to wash and dress children and to put them to bed, 
 to care for the house and her husband's comfort, 
 why, any housekeeper could have done that. 
 
 "If I were to die this very day," she frequently 
 mused, "Edward would never miss me. He could 
 hire some one to take my place for five dollars a 
 week. It would be better for him if I were to die, 
 'for then he, could marry some brilliant society 
 woman whom he would be proud of." 
 
 Poor Dolly! The mind is so much the body's 
 master that she grew old-looking as a result of this 
 secret brooding, and grew petulant. Crissey could 
 not help noticing that all was not right with her, 
 and advised her to see a doctor, to take a tonic. 
 But whenever he spoke of the matter, her pride 
 came to the rescue, and she brightened up and told 
 him bravely: 
 
 "There's nothing the matter; just a little tired 
 to-day." 
 
 "Perhaps you need change of air," said Crissey
 
 A CRUCIAL MOMENT 381 
 
 once. "When we get to Washington you'll be all 
 right." 
 
 He would have been genuinely worried, but she 
 had so thoroughly relieved him of all home cares 
 during the peaceful years that he had lived with 
 her that he unconsciously applied the confidence 
 which she inspired in him even to her own case. 
 
 Whenever, in their early years, money was short, 
 he had reflected, "Dolly will manage somehow." 
 
 And while he was writing his great book on 
 corporations, or was throwing himself heart and 
 mind into some difficult case, she did not distract 
 him with the sicknesses of the children or the de- 
 fections of the servants. He was absolutely sure 
 that there was a wise, brave, true little woman at 
 home. 
 
 If Jim took the measles, or if Agnes were down 
 with the whooping-cough, Dolly was there ; no need 
 for him to go blundering around. If he inquired, 
 as he frequently did, concerning any embarrass- 
 ment or sickness at home, he was always given the 
 bravest, most cheerful version of the affair. 
 
 So he threw himself into his life work with an 
 energy that fed upon success. He did not realize 
 that this brave, efficient little woman, with the level 
 gray eyes, had a heart that yearned after tender-
 
 382 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 ness as a bursting seed after the sun, and a mouth 
 that ached for true-love's kisses as a rosebud for 
 the dew. 
 
 A man who is writing books, trying law cases, 
 and dreaming of the Senate, perhaps the Presi- 
 dency do not even whisper it has not time to 
 analyze the mysterious and contradictory elements 
 of a woman's nature. 
 
 Poor Dolly made one pitiful effort to win back 
 her husband's youthful love. "How can he love 
 me," she thought, "if I allow myself to grow sad 
 and old ?" And for a brief time, she took unusual 
 pains with her attire. 
 
 There was no reason for economy now, and sKe 
 ordered several handsome street gowns and a new 
 Kat or two. She made a study of dressing her 
 hair in the most becoming manner ; and she devoted 
 much thought to ribbons, matching them against 
 her pale cheek, and to fresh and cheerful shirt 
 waists for house wear. She even purchased an 
 opera cloak and had made for herself an evening 
 gown, a dainty thing of silvery white peau de soie, 
 with a little pink about the shoulders and finishing 
 the half-sleeves. There was a pink velvet bow, too, 
 in front, and the girdle was of the same color in a 
 soft shade. Such a robe turns a woman's clock
 
 A CRUCIAL MOMENT 383 
 
 back ten years, if there be any of tKe girl left in her 
 heart, and she be not spoiled by too much luxury. 
 
 This she tried on one morning, when the chil- 
 dren were away at school, and, going down into 
 the hall, with much trepidation lest Lena should 
 catch sight of her, she surveyed herself in the full- 
 length mirror there by the door. She thought the 
 dress looked too young for her, and mounted the 
 stairs again mournfully. She folded it carefully 
 and put it away. When she opened the drawer 
 from time to time and shook out its rustling 
 skirt, it did not seem to be hers. It possessed the 
 melancholy interest of a robe that had belonged to 
 a dead friend, who had died young and long ago ; 
 or perhaps to a sister or a daughter whom she 
 should never see again. 
 
 Edward did not even notice the street dresses and 
 the new hats, tKough she made an especial effort 
 to catch His eye with them. She donned them un- 
 fortunately in the busiest and most exciting days 
 of his great campaign. 
 
 Of what use, then, to appear before him in the 
 evening gown, and offer to accompany him to some 
 reception ? Clothes made no difference in her case. 
 He would think her silly in her old age. It was he 
 and not she, anyway, that people wanted to see.
 
 384 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 She must not lose sight of that fact. He was a 
 great man, she but a dull, plodding woman. And 
 it was natural oh God ! quite natural, that beau- 
 tiful and accomplished ladies should admire him. 
 At any rate, she would not give them the oppor- 
 tunity of seeing her discomfiture, of nodding their 
 heads at her, and of whispering: 
 
 "Do you see that stupid, ugly little stick there? 
 That's the wife of the famous and brilliant Mr. 
 Crissey." 
 
 "Impossible !" 
 
 "It is, though. He married her many years ago. 
 And he's just of a marriageable age now. Think 
 what a match he might have made had he waited ! 
 Any woman would be glad to take him now." 
 
 Crissey was attired in evening dress on the night 
 of his election because he was invited to attend a 
 fashionable reception at the Wilsons'. His full- 
 fledged reputation as an orator and the respectabil- 
 ity of his support would have made him a social lion, 
 even in case of defeat. 
 
 As soon as decisive returns began to come in, 
 Mrs. Wilson, widely awake to social possibilities, 
 telephoned her husband to make sure of Crissey. 
 TKe reception should become a function in honor 
 of the famous orator, the new member of Congress. 
 
 The genial Wilson, who felt a great personal ad-
 
 A CRUCIAL MOMENT 385 
 
 miration for Crissey, went over to the latter's office 
 late in the afternoon, and found him listening to 
 returns which his secretary was calling out from 
 time to time from the telephone. Wilson stood in 
 the door for a moment, pulling his red mustache 
 so violently that he somewhat distorted the smile 
 that crept over his face. Then he removed his 
 gold pince-nez, closing his eyes tightly several times 
 and opening them again as he polished the glasses 
 with a silk handkerchief. 
 
 "Sounds all right, don't it?" he asked at last. 
 There were two or three men standing about Cris- 
 sey, and the latter had not noticed the famous cor- 
 poration counsel. Crissey whirled around and ex- 
 tended his hand. 
 
 "Ah, Wilson, how are you ? Yes, I think we can 
 safely say now that all doubts are removed." 
 
 "I called to congratulate you," said Wilson, tak- 
 ing the extended hand in both of his own. "I can't 
 tell you how much genuine pleasure this gives me. 
 Like all good citizens, I rejoice that the right man 
 Has won out for once ; and, moreover, I take a per- 
 sonal satisfaction In this thing, on account of my 
 ah friendship for you." 
 
 It is hard for shrewd, hard-headed men to say 
 these things. The trouble is that most men think 
 themselves less sentimental than they really are.
 
 386 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 "I want to see you a moment," he added, still 
 holding tHe Hand. A couple of the men in the 
 office turned quickly and glanced at the caller, who 
 laughed. 
 
 "Have no fears," he said, as Crissey led him 
 toward the door of a private office. "I don't want 
 anything of an official nature." 
 
 "Well, I just wanted to speak to you," he ex- 
 plained, refusing a seat. "My wife has made up 
 her mind that you are coming to Her reception to- 
 night, and that settles it. She'll have you tHere if 
 she has to send the police after you. I simply 
 wished to forewarn you of your fate, that you 
 might be prepared for it. Seriously, we should 
 very much like to see you and Mrs. Crissey there." 
 
 "I thank Mrs. Wilson for the invitation/' replied 
 Crissey. "I will make an effort to come. I think 
 I can safely promise to be there; about Mrs. Cris- 
 sey I am not so sure. She is not feeling 1 very well 
 these days. I am anxious to get her away. I 
 think a change will do her good." 
 
 "Oh, bring her along ; it will do Her good to get 
 out. Oh, by the way, one reason for Mrs. Wilson's 
 anxiety to secure you for this evening: Senator 
 Chapin's wife, of your old town, is here, and 
 will be at our house to-nigKt. She's quite a social 
 leader in Washington, and will go bail for you and
 
 A CRUCIAL MOMENT 387 
 
 Mrs. Crissey there. My wife is great on these 
 social combinations. She enjoys them as some 
 women do match-making. Do you know the sena- 
 tor?" 
 
 "I remember him as a boy," replied Crissey. "I 
 heard him make a Fourth of July oration once. He 
 has a nephew here in town Harry Chapin in the 
 real estate business. Poor Harry isn't doing very 
 well a sort of a failure, in fact." 
 
 As Wilson passed out, the young man at the 
 'phone was shouting : "Crissey, three thirty ; Galla- 
 gher, two fifteen."
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII 
 
 "MY CUP RUNNETH OVER" 
 
 After the speecK on the balcony, Crissey was 
 kept busy for a couple of hours receiving congratu- 
 lations from leading politicians, and calls of a more 
 troublesome nature from persons who seized the 
 earliest opportunity to emphasize the importance 
 of their services. 
 
 He was glad of an excuse to break away from 
 these and close himself in a cab headed for 
 the Wilsons'. Dolly was not going with him. He 
 had asked Her, it is true, telling her cheerfully that 
 she might as well get into practice now, as she 
 would find herself in a perfect social whirl as soon 
 as they got to Washington ; but she pleaded a head- 
 ache, due to excitement. The fact of tKe matter 
 is, that she was overwhelmed by the noisy proofs 
 of his greatness the music, the shouting, and the 
 eloquence from the balcony. She was fully con- 
 firmed, at last, in her idea that she was a mere clog 
 tied to the foot of a demi-god, a melancholy ghost 
 of his cruel past. 
 
 388
 
 "MY CUP RUNNETH OVER" 389 
 
 "And I have been a good wife to you, Edward," 
 she sobbed in the loneliness of her room. "I did 
 help you in those days when we were poor together. 
 OK, why didn't we stay poor always?" 
 
 She was tired, very tired, for the day Had been 
 one of great excitement to her; so she undressed, 
 and crept into bed by th'e side of little Dorothy, who 
 turned over without waking up, and, stretching out 
 one tiny hand, laid it lovingly upon her mother's 
 face. The child gave a deep sigh of contentment 
 as she felt in Her dreams that dear and sure pres- 
 ence, and her tender body responded again to the 
 deep breaths of happy childhood, rhythmical waves 
 upon the sea of sleep. 
 
 Mrs. Crissey had scarcely pulled the blanket 
 about her shoulders when the telephone bell began 
 to ring in Edward's study that insistent, startling 
 whir which generally means so little, but which 
 seems to say, especially if it be heard at night, that 
 the house is on fire. 
 
 She slipped out of the bed and ran to the telephone 
 in her bare feet, anxious to get there and take 
 down the receiver before the children should 
 awaken. 
 
 "Yes," she cried, louder than necessary, for she 
 never could get over tHe idea that one must shout 
 to be Heard so far "hello I hello 1"
 
 390 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 "Hello, hello-o-o!" replied a woman's voice. "Is 
 this the residence of Mr. Crissey Mr. Edward 
 Crissey ?" 
 
 "Yes; this is Mr. Crissey's house." 
 
 "Is he in?" 
 
 All of Dolly's wits were on the qui vive on the 
 instant. 
 
 "He was here but a moment ago," she replied. 
 "Is there any message I can deliver to him ?" 
 
 "I would like to know merely if he has started 
 for the Wilsons', or if He is coming here? Mrs. 
 Chapin is here and would like very much to see him. 
 Tell Mrs. Crissey" 
 
 Dolly dropped the receiver as though it had been 
 a snake. 
 
 "That cat again!" she whispered. "That shame- 
 less creature ! Oh, I could kill her!" 
 
 Then she snatched the receiver, placed it to her 
 ear, and almost shrieked: 
 
 "What did you say to tell Mrs. Crissey?" 
 
 There was no answer, so she rang the bell furi- 
 ously, and a flat, mechanical voice replied: 
 
 "What number, please?" 
 
 "What ? What did you say ?" 
 
 "What number, please?" 
 
 She hung the receiver up again, and paced the 
 floor t muttering:
 
 "MY CUP RUNNETH OVER" 391 
 
 "What shall I do? Oh, what shall I do?" 
 
 And at last she decided. Stamping her little foot 
 upon the floor and thrusting out her square chin, 
 while her gray eyes turned to tempered steel in the 
 heat of her rage, she decided. 
 
 "I will go where my husband is," she exclaimed. 
 "I'll go where lie is, and never let him out of my 
 sight. He's mine, he belongs to me; and nobody 
 shall take him away from me while I am alive." 
 
 She glided up the stairs, a pale and angry ghost, 
 and arranged her hair with a few deft touches. She 
 got into' the white silk dress, she hardly knew how, 
 in an incredibly short space of time, wrapped the 
 opera cloak about her, threw a silk scarf over her 
 head, and stole downstairs and into the street, a 
 white, sweet, fluffy incarnation of tragedy. She 
 had 'formed no definite idea of how she should reach 
 the Wilsons'. Her first impulse was to walk. 
 Modern rapid transit is not at all suited to the ela- 
 tion of old, primeval tragedy. One wants to get 
 into action, to have his muscles feel as though they 
 were taking him somewhere. Riding in a car, even 
 though it be going fifty miles an hour to the scene 
 of revenge or of victory, is only sitting still, after 
 all. 
 
 But in this city of wide distances walking is sel- 
 'dom practicable, even when assisted by the wings of
 
 392 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 jealousy. Fortunately for Dolly, an empty cab 
 rumbled up from behind, and the driver, pulling 
 his horse to the curb, asked in an insinuating voice : 
 
 "Cab, Madam; cab? Take you to any part of 
 the city." 
 
 "I want to go to Mrs. Frederick Wilson's, on 
 State Street," said Dolly. 
 
 "What number?" 
 
 "I don't know. It's a big house near Lincoln 
 Park." 
 
 "All right. Get right in ; I'll find it." 
 
 And he jumped down and opened the door for 
 her. 
 
 . The jehu scratched his head as he drove off. 
 Cabmen see many strange things and catch glimpses 
 of numberless romances and tragedies. They have 
 their night patrons divided into classes, and can 
 tell almost at a glance to what class any particular 
 fare belongs. 
 
 But here was something decidedly different. 
 This fare was not a demi-mondaine ; neither was she 
 drunk, although she seemed excited. She was 
 dressed like a regular swell, "the real thing," and 
 she had even given the address of one of the most 
 fashionable houses in the city. But why was she 
 walking ? It was only one chance in a thousand that 
 a cab had passed at that hour in that locality. This
 
 "MY CUP RUNNETH OVER" 393 
 
 one had been taking a "gent" home from the Rock 
 Island depot, who had wished to bring his trunk 
 right along with him on top of the cab. At any 
 rate she ought to be good for a "fiver." 
 
 These ruminations occupied his mind during the 
 entire extent of the course. It was with consid- 
 erable curiosity that he threw open the door of his 
 vehicle at last and peered within, saying: 
 
 "Here we are, Madam." 
 
 Would he find her asleep inside, drunk, after all ? 
 Tony "Backup," as everybody called him, a hunch- 
 backed confrere of his, had once driven a mysteri- 
 ous lady, all togged out like that, about for two 
 hours, and had found her dead when he opened the 
 door dead, with a bottle of carbolic acid in her 
 hand. 
 
 "Here we are, Madam " Dolly stepped out in 
 front of the great stone dry-goods box of a house, 
 so brilliantly lighted, and made briskly for the front 
 steps. 
 
 "Shall I wait?" called the cabman anxiously. 
 
 She stopped, slightly embarrassed, and brought 
 nearer to earth than at any moment since making 
 her heroic resolve. She had not a cent with her. 
 Had she taken a street car, she would not have been 
 able to paj; her fare.
 
 394 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 "Yes, wait," she replied. In reality, she did not 
 care what he did. 
 
 She rang and the door opened. The jehu was 
 much relieved to see that she went in and stayed in. 
 
 "She's all right, after all," Ke muttered. "That 
 ought to be worth a tenner," and he entered his 
 cab, closed the door, and went to sleep. 
 
 "First door at the right, top of the stairs, for 
 ladies' wraps," said a gentlemanly butler with 
 English whiskers. 
 
 Through a door at her left Dolly saw a throng 
 of ladies in fashionable attire. A few of them 
 were chattering together, but nearly all were facing 
 one way, many of tKem standing on tiptoe, as 
 though listening to some one. At the end of the 
 long hall, which extended beyond the wide stair- 
 case, another door was ajar. Voices slipped 
 through the opening, men's voices, and applause. 
 
 SKe Heard her husband's name called, and then 
 the familiar cry: 
 
 "Crissey, Crissey; speech, speech!" 
 
 There was nobody in the hall, and she tripped 
 toward the door without taking off her cloak. 
 Standing so that she was concealed from those 
 within, she listened. The applause broke out anew. 
 She removed the lace scarf and peeped within. The 
 air was a blue inferno of tobacco smoke in that
 
 "MY CUP RUNNETH OVER" 395 
 
 room, and a table full of jolly demons in evening 
 dress were turned expectantly toward a man who 
 was standing, one hand resting gracefully on 
 the board, while a gimlet of blue smoke trembled 
 upward from the cigar which he held between two 
 fingers of the other. It was her husband. 
 
 How handsome he looked! He was standing 
 very near her, and she drew her head back quickly 
 lest he see and recognize her. 
 
 He began to speak, and it seemed to her quite 
 natural that his voice should be serious, his tones 
 sympathetic and moving, even for a festive occa- 
 sion. 
 
 "In the absence of Senator Chapin," he began, 
 "you have asked me to respond to the toast, The 
 Ladies.' I can not help feeling that this ah this 
 appointment is somewhat in the nature of a joke, 
 that its very inappropriateness gives it an element 
 of humor consonant with the gaiety of this occa- 
 sion. Though always entertaining the profound- 
 est respect for the sex, I have never been a ladies' 
 man in the general acceptation of the term. I can 
 not help thinking how much more fitting it would 
 have been had the senator been here to respond to 
 this sentiment. The senator is a handsome man, 
 a courtly man. He possesses all those little refine- 
 ments of fnanner and delicacies of address which
 
 396 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 endear a man to the sex. Through those as well 
 as through his sterling worth, he won in early 
 youth the hand of a woman who has been chief 
 ornament of his brilliant career, the bright but ten- 
 der guiding star of his destiny." The congress- 
 man was perfectly at ease now. 
 
 "While as true to that star as the needle to the 
 pole, yet He has necessarily been a ladies' favorite 
 all his life. Who knows how many sweet flowers 
 of sentiment may have yearned toward him in 
 secret, upon how many gentle hearts he may, un- 
 wittingly, have trod? With me it has been differ- 
 ent. Not possessing the senator's brilliant gifts, I 
 have won whatever of success has crowned my 
 career by stern and unremitting toil. The ladies 
 have scarcely taken note of my existence, and, I 
 confess it with shame, I ah have had little time 
 to cultivate feminine society. I say, 'with shame,' 
 for every man is better and completer for the re- 
 fined and uplifting influence of good women. He 
 can not have too much of it. But I can not let this 
 opportunity pass without paying public tribute to 
 the virtues and graces of two noble ladies two 
 sweet, gracious women to whom I owe all that I 
 am or hope to be. It is fitting that I should pay 
 this tribute on the evening of this, my first really 
 great and satisfying success in life.
 
 "MY CUP RUNNETH OVER" 397 
 
 "My mother died young " Here the speaker's 
 voice dropped to a lower, tenderer note. "But one 
 of the clearest echoes from my departed youth", call- 
 ing me back to those days of innocence, purity, and 
 simple faith, is the soft, low voice of my mother. 
 Oh, sweetest ghost that rises from the past, sad, 
 tender, reproachful face, that makes us ashamed 
 of our unworthiness ! Glorious, saintlike smile, 
 that blesses us when we do not forget ! 
 
 "The other lady to whom I wish to pay tribute 
 to-night, I have known for the past twenty years. 
 She was watering roses in the front yard of her 
 father's house when I first saw her. She looked 
 up at me, and the afternoon sun fell upon what 
 seemed to me then the fairest face in the whole, 
 world. She was dressed -in white, I remember,, 
 with a wide straw hat upon Her head and a water- 
 ing can in her hand. Gentlemen, the years have 
 added some wrinkles to that face, the wand 
 of time has touched those brown locks with gray; 
 but that woman is fairer this minute in my eyes than 
 on the day when I married her. If I told how 
 much she has helped me, how much she has done 
 for me, I should weary you with Ker praises, and 
 the sickly gray of dawn would be creeping in at 
 the windows ere I had done. I will not go into 
 the details of our early life, when we. occupied two
 
 398 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 little rooms in a farm house five miles from a coun- 
 try village, and I walked the whole distance twice 
 a day, acting as court stenographer, and studying 
 law evenings. I will not tell you how she did her 
 own work in those strenuous, Kappy always happy 
 days mended my clothes, cared for the children, 
 economized somehow so that we always got along 
 but I am telling you. Suffice to say, that without 
 her I should not be where I am to-night; for the 
 main thing she has given has been some part of 
 her splendid courage. When I have been despond- 
 ent, she has been cheerful ; when I have been afraid 
 or faint by the way, she has been brave. Her un- 
 failing faith in me, even when unworthy, has given 
 me faith in myself. Frail, seemingly weak, some- 
 times sick, she has looked down the years with level 
 gray eyes, always hopeful, always brave. I tell 
 you, gentlemen, there is more true courage in the 
 tender heart of one little woman, one true little 
 woman, than in the breasts of a dozen of the great- 
 est men that ever lived. 
 
 "And such a woman is the high priestess of a 
 man's home. She makes of it a sacred temple. 
 Her heart is a swinging censer, and she fills his 
 house with the wholesome incense of wife-love, 
 mother-love; and no evil spirits dare enter therein. 
 
 "Perhaps, after all, I am not so unworthy to re-
 
 "MY CUP RUNNETH OVER" 30,9 
 
 spond to this sentiment, Tlie Ladies !' These two 
 women that I have known have made me hold the 
 entire sex in reverence, to see something good in 
 the worst of women. 
 
 "May I ask you now to give tribute with me to 
 Caesar? It may seem a strange thing to do, 
 but you will understand it, I am sure. I ask you 
 to drink to the good health of Congressman Dolly 
 Crissey." 
 
 "Please let me out," whispered Dolly a moment 
 later to the butler. "I I want to go home." 
 
 "Leaving so early?" inquired a well-modulated 
 feminine voice. 
 
 Dolly glanced around, and saw a tiny woman in 
 a yellow empire gown, with a bunch of black velvet 
 on her breast, and a butterfly of diamonds blazing 
 in her hair. An aigrette of white feathers added 
 to Her height. Her attitude was politely, though 
 keenly, inquisitive. 
 
 Dolly felt tKat this was the hostess, and that she 
 was doing a most unconventional thing in stealing 
 from the house in this manner. She was fairly 
 caught and must explain. 
 
 "I am Mrs. Crissey," she said frankly, though 
 greatly agitated. SKe had no cause to be ashamed 
 of her name, however. "I came to surprise Mr. 
 Crissey to to show him my new gown, and I
 
 400 THE LONG STRAIGHT ROAD 
 
 overheard. I I am so ashamed." Mrs. Wilson 
 did not know why the little woman should be 
 ashamed; but her own heart had been strangely 
 touched by the speech which she had just heard. 
 She gave Dolly an impulsive hug a quite uncon- 
 ventional fiug, and kissed her. 
 
 "You dear! I'll let you run away now, if you 
 want to, but we must see you again soon we must 
 see you often. James, show Mrs. Crissey to her 
 carriage. Good night, dear." 
 
 This old world had suddenly grown so kind to 
 Dolly. It was as though the sun had just slid out 
 from an eclipse. Yet sKe could not help sobbing 
 as she threw herself back into a corner of the seat. 
 
 "Why couldn't Ee have told me! OK, why 
 couldn't he have told me?" 
 
 The toasts had been a happy idea of Mrs. Wil- 
 son's, always fertile in surprises for her guests. 
 She wished to let Chicago society hear the famous 
 orator make an after-dinner, speech. Need it be 
 said that her scheme had met with' the most gratify- 
 ing success? 
 
 "I saw Mrs. Crissey, Fred," she whispered a mo- 
 ment later to her husband. "She was here, and 
 she heard. SKe'll do. She's nicer than he is, if 
 possible ; and he meant every word of it." 
 
 Five minutes after making his speech Crissey
 
 "MY CUP RUNNETH OVER" 401 
 
 bade adieu to the hostess and left the house. He 
 had one more reception to attend that evening, not 
 far from his own home. It was a stag party ; and, 
 remembering the theater program, he determined 
 to stop at the House and put on a black necktie. 
 He drove fast, and arrived but a moment after 
 Dolly. The hall was dark, and he turned on the 
 electric light witK a quick snap of the button. 
 
 There sKe stood, leaning against the lower 
 balustrade of the stairway, all in white and pink. 
 Her face, flushed with mingled shame and joy, 
 looked shyly at him from the delicate folds of the 
 lace scarf. The cloak lay in a ring of white silk and 
 fluffy fur about her feet. 
 
 And suddenly love triumphed over shame ; shame 
 for weakness and mistrust which he should never 
 know. 
 
 The flush of a whole life's triumph mounted to 
 her cheeks; its joy sat on her parted lips. The 
 sunlight and moonlight and starlight of love burned 
 in her glorified eyes and beckoned him like a beacon. 
 He strode toward her with arms open. 
 
 "Why, Dolly," he cried, "how young you look !" 
 
 THE END
 
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 esting. He shows the tricks, the heat, the passion, the 
 tumult ; the weariness and stubborness of a dead lock. The 
 descriptions of society life in the book are equally good. 
 
 i2mo. Price, $1.50 
 
 The Bowen-Merrill Company, Indianapolis
 
 "NOTHING BUT PRAISE" 
 
 LAZARRE 
 
 By MARY HARTWELL CATHERWOOD 
 
 Glorified by a beautiful love story. Chicago Tritunt, 
 We feel quite justified in predicting a wide-spread and 
 prolonged popularity for this latest comer into the ranks of 
 historical fiction. The N. V. Commercial Advertiser. 
 
 After all the material for the story had been collected a 
 3'ear was required for the writing of it. It is an historical 
 romance of the better sort, with stirring situations, good bits 
 of character drawing and a satisfactory knowledge of the 
 tone and atmosphere of the period involved. N. Y. Herald. 
 
 Lazarre, Is no less a person than the Dauphin. Louis 
 XVII. of France, and a right royal hero he makes. A prince 
 who, for the sake oi his lady, scorns perils in two hemis- 
 pheres, facing the wrath of kings in Europe and the bullets 
 of savages in America; who at the last spurns a kingdom that 
 he may wed her freely here is one to redeem the sins of even 
 those who "never learn and never forget." Philadelphia 
 North American, 
 
 With six Illustrations by Andr Castaigne 
 12 mo. Price, $1.50. 
 
 The Bowen-Merrill Company, Indianapolis
 
 "A NOVEL THAT'S WORTH WHILE" 
 
 The REDEMPTION 
 of DAVID CORSON 
 
 By CHARLES FREDERIC GOSS 
 
 A Mid-century American Novel 
 of Intense Power and Interest 
 
 The Interior says : 
 
 " This is a book that is worth while. Though it tells of 
 weakness and wickedness, of love and license, of revenge 
 and remorse in an intensely interesting way, yet it is above 
 all else a clean and pure story. No one can read it and 
 honestly ask 'what's the use.' " 
 
 Newell Divigbt Hi/Us, Pastor of Plymouth Cburcb, Brooklyn, 
 
 says : 
 " ' The Redemption of David Corson' strikes a strong, healthy, 
 
 buoyant note." 
 
 Dr. F. W. Gunsaulus, President Armour Institute, says : 
 "Mr. Goss writes with the truthfulness of light. He has 
 told a story in which the fact of sin is illuminated with the 
 utmost truthfulness and the fact of redemption is portrayed 
 with extraordinary power. There are lines of greatness in 
 the book which I shall never forget." 
 
 President M. ff. Stryker, Hamilton College, says i 
 
 " It is a victory in writing for one whose head seems at last 
 
 to have matched his big human heart. There is ten times 
 
 as much of reality in it as thare is in ' David Harum,' which 
 
 does not value lightly that admirable charcoal sketch." 
 
 Price, $1.50 
 
 THe Bowen-Merrill Company, Indianapolis
 
 THE MERRIEST NOVEL OF MANY, 
 MANY MOONS." 
 
 MY LADY PEGGY 
 GOES TO TOWN 
 
 By FRANCES AYMAR MATHEWS 
 
 The Daintiest and Most Delightful Book 
 of the Season. 
 
 A heroine almost too charming to be true is Peggy, and 
 it were a churlish reader who is not, at the end of the first 
 chapter, prostrate before her red slippers. Washington Post. 
 
 To make a comparison would be to rank "My Lady 
 Peggy" with "Monsieur Beaucaire" in points of attraction, 
 and to applaud as heartily as that delicate romance, this 
 picture of the days " When patches nestled o'er sweet lips 
 at chocolate times." N. Y. Mail and Express. 
 
 12 mo. Beautifully illustrated and bound. 
 Price, $1.25 net 
 
 The Bowen-Merrill Company, Indianapolis
 
 'AS CRISP AND CLEAN CUT 
 AS A NEW MINTAGE." 
 
 THE 
 PUPPET CROWN 
 
 BY HAROLD MACGRATH 
 
 A princess rarely beautiful; a duchess magnificent and 
 heartless; a villain revengeful and courageous; a hero youth- 
 ful, humorous, fearless and truly American; such are the 
 principal characters of this delightful story. Syracuse Post- 
 Standard. 
 
 Harold MacGrath has attained the highest point achiev- 
 able in recent fiction. We have the climax of romance and 
 adventure in "The Puppet Crown." The Philadelphia 
 North A merican. 
 
 Superior to most of the great successes. St. Paul Pioneer 
 Press. 
 
 "The Puppet Crown" is a profusion of cleverness. Bal- 
 timore A tnerican, 
 
 Challenges comparison with authors whose names have 
 become immortal Chicago American. 
 
 Latest entry in the list of winners. Cleveland World. 
 
 With illustrations by R. Martine Reay 
 izmo. Price, $1.50. 
 
 The Bowen-Merrill Company, Indianapolis
 
 AN ADMIRABLE SOCIAL STUDY 
 
 THE FALL OF 
 THE CURTAIN 
 
 By HAROLD BEGBIE 
 
 The purpose of this brilliant story of modern English 
 life is to show that a human being, well brought-up, 
 carefully trained in the outward observances of religion, 
 with a keen intellectual perception of the difference 
 between right and wrong, may still not have goodness, 
 and that ambition may easily become the dominating 
 force in such a character. So the book may be called a 
 purpose novel, but in reading it, one no more thinks of 
 applying so discredited an epithet to it than one would 
 think of applying it to "'Vanity Fair." 
 
 The author possesses an admirable style, clear, 
 unaffected, strong. To the discriminating public, the 
 book is certain to give far more pleasure than that public 
 usually gets from a new novel. 
 
 With a Frontispiece by C. Allan Gilbert 
 
 Cloth, 12 mo. Ornamental, $1.25 Net. 
 Postage, 12 Cents 
 
 The Bowen-Merrill Company, Indianapolis
 
 FULL of INCIDENT, ACTION fcf COLOR 
 
 LIKE 
 ANOTHER HELEN 
 
 By GEORGE HORTON 
 
 Mr. Horton's powerful romance stands in a new field and 
 brings an almost unknown world in reality before the reader 
 the world of conflict between Greek and Turk. 
 
 The island of Crete seems real and genuine after reading 
 this book; not a mere spot on the map. The tragic and 
 pathetic troubles of this people are told with sympathetic force. 
 
 Mr. Horton employs a vivid style that keeps the interest 
 alive and many passages are filled with delicate poetic feeling. 
 
 Things happen and the story moves. The characters are 
 well conceived and are human and convincing. Beyond ques- 
 tion Mr. Horton's fine story is destined to take high rank among 
 the books of the day. 
 
 With illustrations by C. M. Relyea 
 
 I zmo, Cloth bound 
 
 Price, $1.50 
 
 The Chicago Times-Herald says : 
 
 " Here are chapters that are Stephen Crane plus sympathy; 
 chapters of illuminated description fragrant with the at- 
 mosphere of art." 
 
 The Bowen- Merrill Company, Indianapolis
 
 "A CHRONICLE OF MARVELS" 
 
 THE FIRST MEN 
 IN THE MOON 
 
 By H. G. WELLS 
 
 Author of "The War of the Worlds" and "Tales of Time 
 and Space." 
 
 Mr. Wells writes to entertain and in this tale of the 
 invention of " cavorite," and the subsequent remarkable 
 journey made to the moon by its inventor, he has succeeded 
 beyond measure in alternately astounding, convincing and 
 delighting his readers. Told in a straightforward way, with 
 an air of ingenuousness that disarms doubt, the story 
 chronicles most marvelous discoveries and adventures on 
 the mysterious planet. Mr. Hering's many illustrations 
 are admirable. Altogether the book is one of the most 
 original and entertaining volumes that has appeared in 
 many a day. 
 
 Profusely Illustrated by E. Hering 
 izmo., cloth, $1.50 
 
 The Bowen-Merrill Company, Indianapolis
 
 'AN INDIANA LOVE STORY" 
 
 ROSALYNDE'S 
 LOVERS 
 
 By MAURICE THOMPSON 
 Author of "Alice of Old Vincennes" 
 
 As Mr. Thompson avers, this is "only a love story," 
 but it is a story of such sweetness and wholesome life 
 that it will at once claim a permanent home in our affections. 
 The love of nature, so prominent a characteristic of Mr. 
 Thompson, is reflected throughout and the thunderstorm 
 and following gleam of sun, the country garden and 
 southern lake are each in turn invested with a personality 
 that wins our instant sympathy. Rosalynde Banderet is 
 winsome and artless, her lovers are human and manly, 
 and her final happiness is ours. Mr. Peirson's many 
 pictures are entirely worthy. 
 
 With many Illustrations and Decorations by 
 G. Alden Peirson 
 
 Ornamental ismo. Cloth Bound, $1.50 
 
 The Bowen-Merrill Company, Indianapolis
 
 ANOTHER SUCCESSFUL HISTORICAL 
 NOVEL 
 
 THE BLACK 
 WOLF'S BREED 
 
 By HARRIS DICKSON 
 
 From the Boston Globe : 
 
 "A vigorous tale of France in the old and new world during 
 the reign of Louis XIV." 
 
 From the Philadelphia Press : 
 
 " As delightfully seductive as certain mint-flavored beverages 
 they make down South." 
 
 From the Los Angeles Herald : 
 
 " The sword-play is great, even finer than the pictures in 
 To Have and To Hold.' " 
 
 From the San Francisco Chronicle : 
 
 " As fine a piece of sustained adventure as has appeared in 
 recent fiction." 
 
 From the St. Louis Globe-Democrat : 
 "There is action, vivid description and intensely dramatic 
 
 From the Indianapolis News: 
 
 " So full offender love-making, of gallant fighting, that one 
 regrets it's no longer." 
 
 Illustrated by C. M. Relyea. Price 1.50 
 
 The Bowen-Merrill Company, Indianapolis
 
 "IN LONDON OF LONG AGO " 
 
 THE 
 FICKLE WHEEL 
 
 By HENRY THEW STEPHENSON 
 
 In this tale of merry England, of the time when 
 Shakespeare jested and Ben Johnson blustered, Mr. 
 Stephenson has painted for us a picture informing and 
 above all entertaining. His is not a story of counts 
 and crowns, but of the ever interesting common people. 
 Without seeming to do so the author shows us many 
 interesting bits of the life of the day. We go to Paul's 
 walk, we see Shakespeare play at the Globe theatre and 
 other such glimpses of old time London are deftly added 
 to our experiences. Throughout the book is an evanescent 
 charm, a spirit of wholesome gaiety. It is well worth while. 
 
 With illustrations by C. M. Relyea 
 Cloth, Ornamental, 12 mo. Price, $1.50 
 
 The Bowen-Merrill Company, Indianapolis
 
 A FINE STORY 
 OF THE COWBOY AT HIS BEST 
 
 WITH 
 HOOPS of STEEL 
 
 By FLORENCE FINCH KELLY 
 
 " The friends thou bast, and their adoption tried, 
 Grapple them to thy soul with hoops of steel" 
 
 From the San Francisco Chronicle : 
 
 "Western men and women will read it because it paints 
 faithfully the life which they know so well, and because it 
 gives us three big, manly fellows, fine types of the cowboy 
 at his best. Eastern readers will be attracted by its splendid 
 realism." 
 
 From Julian Hawthorne : 
 
 " For my own part, I finished it all in one day, and dreamt 
 it over again that night. And I am an old hand, heaven 
 knows." 
 
 From the Denver Times! 
 
 "Mrs. Kelly's characters stand out from the background of 
 the New Mexican plains, desert and mountain with all the 
 distinctness of a Remington sketch." 
 
 With six illustrations, in color, by Dan Smith 
 Price, 1.50 
 
 The Bowen- Merrill Company, Indianapolis
 
 " DIFFICULT TO FORGET " 
 
 A FEARSOME 
 RIDDLE 
 
 By MAX EHRMAN 
 
 This mystery story, based on the theory of the 
 arithmetical rhythm of time, contains much of the same 
 fascination that attaches to the tales of Poe, Simply 
 told, yet dramatic and powerful In its unique conception, 
 it has a convincing ring that is most impressive. The 
 reader can not evade a haunting conviction that this 
 wonderful experiment must in reality have taken place. 
 Delightful to read, difficult to forget, the book roust evoke 
 a wide discussion. 
 
 With Pictures by Virginia Keep 
 12 mo. Cloth, $1.00 
 
 The Bowen-Merrill Company, Indianapolis
 
 A NOVEL OF EARLY NEW YORK 
 
 PATROON VAN 
 VOLKENBERG 
 
 By HENRY THEW STEPHENSON 
 
 From the New York Press ; 
 
 " Many will compare ' Patroon Van Volkenberg,' with its 
 dash, style and virility, with 'Richard Carvel,' and in that 
 respect they will be right, as one would compare the strong, 
 sturdy and spreading elm with a slender sapling." 
 
 The action of this stirring story begins when New York 
 was a little city of less than 5,000 inhabitants. 
 
 The Governor has forbidden the port to the free traders or 
 pirate ships, which sailed boldly under their own flag ; while 
 the Patroon and his merchant colleagues not only traded openly 
 with the buccaneers, but owned and managed such illicit craft. 
 The story of the clash of these conflicting interests and the 
 resulting exciting happenings is absorbing. 
 
 The atmosphere of the tale is fresh in fiction, the plot is 
 stirring and well knit, and the author is possessed of the ability 
 to write forceful, fragrant English. 
 
 From the Brooklyn Standard- Union : 
 
 " The tale is one of vibrant quality. It can not be read at a 
 leisurely pace. It bears the reader through piratical seas and 
 buccaneering adventures, through storm and stress of many 
 sorts, but it lands him safely, and leads him to peace." 
 
 I2mo, 
 
 Illustrated in color by C. M. Relyea 
 Price, $1.50 
 
 The Bowen- Merrill Company, Indianapolis
 
 A STORY OF THE MORGAN RAID, 
 DURING THE WAR of the REBELLION 
 
 THE 
 LEGIONARIES 
 
 By HENRY SCOTT CLARK 
 
 The Memphis Commercial-Appeal says : 
 " The backbone of the story is Morgan's great raid one of 
 the most romantic and reckless pieces of adventure ever 
 attempted in the history of the world. Mr. Clark's descrip- 
 tion of the Ride of the Three Thousand is a piece of litera- 
 ture that deserves to live ; and is as fine in its way as the 
 ,-;hariot race from ' Ben Hur." " 
 
 The Cincinnati Commercial- Tribune says : 
 
 "'The Legionaries' is pervaded with what seems to be the 
 true spirit of artistic impartiality. The author is simply 
 a narrator. He stands aside, regarding with equal eye all 
 the issues involved and the scales dip not in his hands. To 
 sum up, the first romance of the new day on the Ohio is an 
 eminently readable one a good yarn well spun. ' ' 
 
 The Rochester Herald says s 
 
 "The appearance of a new novel in the West marks an 
 epoch in fiction relating to the war between the sections for 
 the preservation of the Union. ' The Legionaries ' is a 
 remarkable book, and we can scarcely credit the assurance 
 that it is the work of a new writer." 
 
 1 2mo, illustrated Price, $1.50 
 
 The Bowen - Merrill Company, Indianapolis
 
 A STORY TOLD BY A REAL STORY- 
 TELLER 
 
 A SON OF 
 AUSTERITY 
 
 By GEORGE KNIGHT 
 
 Mr. Knight has created a real atmosphere for his men and 
 women to breathe, and his men and women take deep breaths. 
 They are alive, they are human, they are real. 
 
 He has a delightful story to tell and knows how to tell 
 it. It is a story of human life, of possible people in possible 
 situations, living out their little span of life in that state in 
 which it has pleased God to call them. 
 
 The reader realizes at once that Mr. Knight is a man who 
 served his seven years of apprenticeship before opening a shop 
 on his own account. 
 
 The deftness and charm of his literary style, combined 
 with the absorbing interest of the story, can not but prove a 
 delight to every reader. 
 
 With a frontispiece by Harrison Fisher 
 izmo, Cloth. Price, $1.50 
 
 The LJ-verpool Mercury says : 
 
 " This is a book far removed from the ordinary mass of fea- 
 tureless fiction. There is no gainsaying the strength of 
 characterization and the command of English language." 
 
 The Bo wen- Merrill Company, Indianapolis
 
 VIGOROUS, ELEMENTAL, DRAMATIC 
 
 A HEART 
 OF FLAME 
 
 The story of a Master Passion 
 
 BY CHARLES FLEMING EMBREE 
 
 Author of " A Dream of a Throne." 
 
 The men and women in this story are children of the 
 soil. Their strength is iu their nearness to nature. Their 
 minds are vigorous, their bodies powerful, their passions 
 elemental, their courage sublime. They are loyal in friend- 
 ship, persistent in enmity, determined in purpose. 
 
 The story is a story of great wrongs and of supreme love. 
 It is done in black and white, with few strokes, but they are 
 masterly. The shadows at the back are somber but the 
 value of contrast is appreciated for the vivid high light in 
 the foreground. 
 
 It is a work of art powerful convincing and abiding. 
 Powerful, because true to life; convincing, for it has the 
 saving touch of humor; and abiding because love, Hke "A 
 Heart of Flame," prevails in the end. 
 
 With illustrations by Dan Smith 
 i2mo. cloth c Price, $1.50. 
 
 The Bowen-Merrill Company, Indianapolis
 
 THE STORY OF AN AMERICAN 
 CRUCIFIXION 
 
 THE 
 PENITENTES 
 
 By LOUIS HOW 
 
 The Chicago Record says : 
 
 " To describe the customs of this band of intensely religious 
 people, to retain all the color and picturesqueness of the 
 original scene without excess, was the difficult task which 
 Mr. How has done well." 
 
 The Brooklyn Eagle says : 
 
 " The author has been fortunate enough to unearth a colossal 
 American tragedy." 
 
 The Chicago Tribune says : 
 
 "'The Penitentes' abounds in dramatic possibilities. It is 
 full of action, warm color and variety. The denouement 
 at the little church of San Rafael, when the soldiers sur- 
 prise the Penitentes at mass in the early dawn of their fets 
 day, will appeal strongly to the dramatizer." 
 
 The Interior says : 
 
 " Mr. How has done a truly remarkable piece of work * * * 
 any hand, however practiced, might well be proud of the 
 marvelously good descriptions, the dramatic, highly unusual 
 story, the able characterizations." 
 
 izmo, Cloth, Ornamental 
 Price, |i.5o 
 
 The Bowen-Merrill Company, Indianapolis
 
 THE SUBTLE SPIRIT OF THE SEA 
 
 SWEEPERS 
 OF THE SEA 
 
 The Story of a Strange Navy 
 By CLAUDE H. WETMORE 
 
 From the St. Louis Mirror : 
 
 "The recital of the deeds of the 'Sweepers of the Sea' is a 
 breathless one. The romance is heightened by the realism 
 of the technique of naval warfare, by the sureness and 
 voluminosity of nautical knowledge." 
 
 From the Buffalo Re-view : 
 
 " It rivals Stevenson in its ingenuity of plot and dramatic 
 interest." 
 
 From the Albany Journal: 
 
 " There rings the exultant note of tossing billows and a 
 crashing ship." 
 
 From the Minneapolis Times : 
 
 11 Mr. Wetmore has the genius of Jules Verne and can make 
 the improbable seem the actual. In fact, ' Sweepers of 
 the Sea' comes into the class of important fiction, and as 
 such will be received and read by a discriminating public." 
 
 Illustrated Price, $1.50 
 
 The Bowen- Merrill Company, Indianapolis