The Instinct of 
 Step-fatherhood 
 
 Bu Lilian Bell <* &
 
 //
 
 The Instinct of 
 Step-Fatherhood 
 
 By LILIAN BELL 
 
 Author of "A Little Sister 
 to the Wilderness" etc. 
 
 HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS 
 
 NEW YORK AND LONDON 
 
 1898
 
 r 
 
 By LILIAN BELL. 
 
 THE LOVE AFFAIRS OF AN OLD MAID. 16mo, Cloth, 
 
 Ornamental, Uncut Edges and Gilt Top, $1 25. 
 
 . . . The love affairs of an old maid are not her own, but 
 other people's, and in this volume we have the love trials 
 and joys of a variety of persons described and analyzed. 
 Cincinnati Commercial-Gazette. 
 THE UNDER SIDE OF THINGS. A Novel. 16mo, Cloth, 
 
 Ornamental, Uncut Edges and Gilt Top, $1 25. 
 
 . . . This book is Miss Bell's best effort, and most in 
 the line of what we hope to see her proceed in, dainty and 
 keen and bright, and always full of the fine warmth and 
 tenderness of splendid womanhood. Interior, Chicago. 
 
 FROM A GIRL'S POINT OF VIEW. With a Photo- 
 gravure Portrait. 16mo, Cloth, Ornamental, $1 25, 
 Will be read with zest by every one who loves a crisp 
 and graceful writing. . . . Altogether this little sheaf of 
 half-whimsical, half-humorous essays will afford as de- 
 lightful an hour of reading as any person, not dull, can 
 desire. Brooklyn Eagle. 
 
 A LITTLE SISTER TO THE WILDERNESS. A Novel. 
 
 New Edition. 16mo, Cloth, Ornamental, $1 25. 
 
 The writer is well acquainted with the life and habits 
 and dialect of the West Tennessee bottoms, and her story 
 is written from the heart and with rare sympathy. It 
 is valuable because it shows so forcefully the peculiar 
 phases of the life and human character of these people. 
 Churchman, N. Y. 
 
 NEW YORK AND LONDON : 
 HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS. 
 
 Copyright, 1898, by HARPER & 
 All rights reserved.
 
 TO 
 MY LOVELY MOTHER 
 
 whose descent, not only from the Pilgrim Fathers, 
 but from Plymouth Rock, enables her to withstand 
 my frantic appeals when she is minded too ruthlessly 
 to clip the wings of the fledgelings of my heart and 
 brain. 
 
 Nevertheless, to her extraordinary critical faculty 
 do I owe much of the gentle criticism of the public, 
 and to her unfailing tenderness and patience do I 
 hereby publicly bear witness. 
 
 2061817
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 THE INSTINCT OF STEP-FATHERHOOD ... 3 
 
 A STUDY IN HEARTS- 25 
 
 THE HEART OF BRIER ROSE 75 
 
 LIZZIE LEE'S SEPARATION gg 
 
 MARY Lou's MARRYIN' 125 
 
 THE STRIKE AT THE " BILLY BOWLEGS" . 169 
 
 A WOMAN OF No NERVES 203
 
 THE 
 INSTINCT OF STEP -FATHERHOOD
 
 THE 
 INSTINCT OF STEP -FATHERHOOD 
 
 THEY had been driving along the big 
 road for an hour, Miss Cornelia and Fred 
 Yarborough, Miss Cornelia studying her 
 bank-book with a perplexed brow, and Fred 
 watching her with a funny imitation of her 
 anxiety on his small square countenance. 
 And finally, when Miss Cornelia closed her 
 book with a deep sigh, Fred fetched one so 
 much deeper and more lugubrious that she 
 turned and looked at him. 
 
 " What is the matter, Fred ?" 
 
 Fred cast a comprehensive glance at 
 the bank-book held daintily in one of 
 Miss Cornelia's small hands, and said, 
 " Livin' is powerful expensive, ain't it, 
 Miss C'nelia ?"
 
 INSTINCT OF STEP- FATHERHOOD 
 
 " Well, I shouldn't think you would find it 
 so, Fred." 
 
 Miss Cornelia smiled slowly. Fred gen- 
 erally smiled when Miss Cornelia did, but 
 this time he not only failed to respond but 
 sighed again. For some moments they 
 drove along in silence, Fred occupied with 
 his favorite pastime of contemplating the 
 stubby sunburned hands which held the 
 reins, and comparing them with Miss Cor- 
 nelia's. Of course Fred knew everybody 
 knew that the family at Arborvitse were 
 famous for the symmetry and beauty of 
 their hands and feet, while Fred Yar- 
 borough was man - of - all - work for Miss 
 Cornelia and Miss Caroline, and came of 
 a family whose physical attributes seemed 
 to have been measured by a carpenter's 
 rule, so square, so flat, so uncompromising 
 they were. 
 
 "Well -urn, I do. I'm just lavishin' 
 money awn myseff these days, Miss C'nelia. 
 I paid a dollar and a half for these very 
 shoes, and I owe Mist' Tarbell three dollars 
 for a coat that I 'ain't never wo'e. I- I'm 
 savin' it."
 
 INSTINCT OF STEP- FATHERHOOD 
 
 Fred colored so through his freckles that 
 Miss Cornelia noticed it. 
 
 " Well, it's for you to say whether you can 
 afford these extravagances, Fred." 
 
 " Well - um, I'm saving in other di-r&c- 
 tions. I've quit chawin'. It ain't right for 
 a man to chaw when he knows he is settin' 
 a bad example for childern." 
 
 Fred's steady blue eyes met Miss Corne- 
 lia's with an expression of manliness in 
 their depths which struck her as new. He 
 was only seventeen. 
 
 " But all your mother's children are girls, 
 Fred." 
 
 " I know it, Miss C'nelia. I know it 
 mighty well." 
 
 " How many are there now, Fred ?" 
 
 " I got 'leven little sisters, Miss C'nelia. 
 Yes'm. All girls. I'd give a heap if a few 
 of 'em was only boys. I just nachally love 
 boy babies. Looks like the mo' I want 
 boys the mo' girls is sent to us. We got so 
 many, Miss C'nelia, I come mighty near 
 bein' sick of girls. 'Pears like we ought to 
 have had one of 'em boys, just for a relish. 
 But Maw, she don't care. She don't seem
 
 INSTINCT OF STEP- FATHERHOOD 
 
 to hanker after boys like I do. She's just 
 as well satisfied to see 'em all girls. But 
 then Maw don't care much what happens. 
 She, being a woman, don't seem to be able 
 to sense her "sponsibilities. But a time 
 comes when a man must take awn other 
 obligations besides them that he was born 
 into. I don't never intend to turn my back 
 entirely awn Maw, but I've quit chawin' just 
 the same, Miss C'nelia." 
 
 Miss Cornelia looked puzzled. 
 
 " I am glad to hear it. But, Fred, I hope 
 you are not courting any of these girls 
 around here. Remember, you are only get- 
 ting eight dollars a month, and that loft in. 
 the barn is no place for a bride." 
 
 Fred laughed in a pleased way. 
 
 "Laws, no, Miss Nely. I ain't. studyin' 
 'bout no girl.' 1 '' 
 
 As a Southern woman, Miss Cornelia 
 knew that at seventeen it was none too early 
 to warn a boy from matrimony. Many a 
 one is well settled down and the father of a 
 family at nineteen. 
 
 They drove in at the gate of Arborvitas, 
 the fine old place of Judge Peebles, dead 
 6
 
 INSTINCT OF STEP- FATHERHOOD 
 
 and gone these many years, which was with 
 difficulty kept up by his two spinster daugh- 
 ters. 
 
 Deep fields spread far away to the right 
 and left of the famous arbor-vitas hedge, 
 whose length and luxuriance gave the place 
 its name. Back of the house, with its great 
 porch and massive doors, which in years 
 gone by swung open with a hospitality sec- 
 ond to none, the peach orchard stretched out 
 richly. The barn and stable too, although 
 guiltless of the blooded stock they once 
 boasted, were well kept, and helped to 
 maintain the dignity which the fine old 
 place always impressed upon the beholder. 
 
 But, as if there must be some blot upon 
 such a picture, some one slattern element to 
 mark both the decay and the carelessness 
 of the South, the skeleton of an old buggy 
 stood, year in and year out, in the stable- 
 yard, in full view both from the drive and 
 from the dining-room windows. 
 
 Three times a day, at least, must Miss 
 
 Cornelia and Miss Caroline view its tattered 
 
 and flapping remains. The shafts were 
 
 broken, the hinges rusted, the curtains torn, 
 
 7
 
 INSTINCT OF STEP- FATHERHOOD 
 
 and the dash-board was only a weeping 
 apology for itself. Every time the wind 
 rose in the night the small window-panes in 
 the tattered curtains dashed their metal rims 
 against the skeleton frame, and the rusted 
 springs squeaked and shook. Yet no one 
 ever spoke of it disparagingly. No one ever 
 had suggested removing it. And Miss 
 Cornelia, gazing about her with pride, did 
 not notice it now. 
 
 As she went in she heard voices, and, 
 walking through the great hall which divided 
 the house into two equal parts, she found 
 Fred's mother on the back porch in earnest 
 conversation with Miss Caroline. 
 
 The Yarboroughs were such an improv- 
 ident set that without the continued help 
 of the ladies of Arborvita? they must have 
 died from sheer inability to feed themselves. 
 
 "Good - evenin', Miss C'nelia. I just 
 come up to Arborvity to ask you V Miss 
 Calline if you'd seen any signs of Fred's 
 marryin'. I been suspicionin' for 'bout three 
 months now that Fred was studyin' 'bout 
 marryin', an' when he never brought his 
 clo'es home to be washed last week I reck- 
 8
 
 INSTINCT OF STEP- FATHERHOOD 
 
 oned he was fixin' to run off. You say you 
 'ain't seen no signs of such ///-tendons, Miss 
 Calline?" 
 
 Miss Caroline disappeared for a moment, 
 and returned carrying a small black oil-cloth 
 satchel about eighteen inches long. 
 
 " Not unless you call this a sign," she said. 
 
 " Yessum, that's it. I knew it. I've seen 
 her with that very baig. She always carries 
 it to camp-meetin' with her to hold the chil- 
 dern's clo'es." 
 
 "The children's clothes!" cried Miss 
 Cornelia and Miss Caroline at once. 
 
 " Yessum. It's the Widow Perkins he's 
 a-courtin'. She's got fo' boys. He's un- 
 dertakin' right smart of a family to begin 
 with, an' I'm sot agin it. 'Tain't that I 
 would begrudge a pore lone widow woman 
 a husband, but I do hate to see her catch 
 Fred. She's sent after his clo'es an' washed 
 'em herseff, an' they're fixin' to marry. You 
 wait an' see if they ain't. Any other signs, 
 Miss C'nelia?" 
 
 " He asked me if he might have the old 
 buggy to-morrow afternoon," said Miss 
 Cornelia.
 
 INSTINCT OF STEP- FATHERHOOD 
 
 " I thought so ! You see, Miss Calline ! 
 Any other signs ?" 
 
 " He showed me his new shoes just now," 
 said Miss Cornelia. 
 
 " Shoes !" cried Mrs. Yarborough. " He 
 never had awn them expensive shoes ! An' 
 to-day only Wednesday ! Oh, his extrava- 
 gance will be the death of me !" 
 
 She rose to go. 
 
 " She's tried so mortal hard to catch him, 
 an' put out so many arts, I do hate to see 
 her rtk-vices succeed," she said. " Fred's 
 j'ined the church awn probation, but I don't 
 believe that's her doin', for she ain't a per- 
 fessor. I don't know what he j'ined for." 
 
 " Will you take this satchel ?" asked Miss 
 Caroline. 
 
 " No, 'm ; no, 'm. I wouldn't tetch it. 
 That's one of her de- vices to catch Fred 
 with. I wouldn't tetch it." 
 
 Mrs. Yarborough went slowly down the 
 steps. It did not seem to occur to her to 
 try to prevent this ill-starred marriage, nor 
 did she seem alarmed to know that her chief 
 income of eight dollars a month would go 
 from her to Fred's bride. She felt that the
 
 INSTINCT OF STEP- FATHERHOOD 
 
 Lord and Miss Caroline would provide. 
 They always had. 
 
 They watched her stubby figure waddle 
 away. 
 
 " To think of it !" said Miss Cornelia. 
 " What a burden the child is taking on him- 
 self ! Bertha Perkins is thirty if she is a 
 day, poor as she can be, and has those four 
 boys, the youngest a mere baby. Her 
 husband has only been dead about eight 
 months." 
 
 " You don't think for one moment, Sist' 
 Nely, that I am going to allow it, do 
 you ?" 
 
 Miss Caroline was the firm one. Miss 
 Cornelia was the one people loved. 
 
 "I hadn't thought at all, honey, or I 
 should have known that you meant to stop 
 it." 
 
 " That woman is just too lazy for any use. 
 She never would work, even when she was a 
 girl. She just sits and rocks all day long, 
 and she is getting so big and fat she is a 
 sight." 
 
 That night, after Miss Caroline had gone 
 to bed, Aunt Easter, the black cook, put an
 
 INSTINCT OF STEP- FATHERHOOD 
 
 ashen face in at the door, and, with chatter- 
 ing teeth, said : 
 
 " Del Law, Miss Nely, dis place done 
 ha'nted, sho' ! Jis creep out in de kitchen 
 one minute an' hyah dat chile cryin'. Hyah 
 dat ? An' you know dey ain't a baby within 
 fo' miles of Arbohvity. Dat means a death, 
 sho'. Del Law, Miss Nely, you reckon hit 
 mean me ? I ain't fitten to die, Miss Nely. 
 I ain't never perfessed 'ligion. Del Law ! 
 Hyah dat ? But if de good Lawd spah my 
 life tell nex' Sunday I gwine be babtized in 
 de Branch, sho's shootin'. I is, foh a fack. 
 Oh, Lawd, spah me, hab mussy awn my sin- 
 ful soul ! Hab mussy, Lawd, an' plenteous 
 federation, lake You done promus in de 
 Good Book. Del Law, Miss Nely, you hyah 
 dat ? Miss Nely, you's a good lady, an' a 
 perfessor ; won't you jis kneel down awn de 
 flo' an' say one prah foh po' ole Easter ? Oh, 
 Lawd, Miss Nely !" 
 
 " Hush, Easter," said Miss Cornelia ; 
 " that is a real child crying. It is no ha'nt. 
 Give me the lantern and come with me." 
 
 Miss Cornelia lifted her skirts and 
 stepped down the path leading to the barn,
 
 INSTINCT OF STEP- FATHERHOOD 
 
 in whose upper window she saw Fred's 
 light burning. Aunt Easter, with pious 
 ejaculations of " Don't strike, Lawd !" 
 " Hoi' Dy wrath a little longer, Lawd !'' 
 followed, holding her clothes up with both 
 hands, and displaying feet and ankles never 
 intended for rapid transit. Nevertheless, 
 Aunt Easter meant to be ready to run if 
 " the ha'nt " appeared, for at each cry of 
 the child she took a fresh grab at her skirts 
 and raised them higher, with frank confi- 
 dence in the friendly darkness. 
 
 When they reached the barn, Miss Cor- 
 nelia's fears were realized. They could 
 hear Fred's sturdy bare feet patting across 
 the floor and the crying of a child being 
 jolted. Miss Cornelia was in a quandary. 
 She had no doubt but that Fred had mar- 
 ried Mrs. Perkins that day and had brought 
 his interesting family home to share the lux- 
 ury of his loft with him. She did not know 
 what to do. Miss Caroline would have 
 marched up and demanded to know the 
 truth, and Miss Cornelia knew that in the 
 morning she would be held accountable for 
 not taking the same summary steps. She
 
 INSTINCT OF STEP-FATHERHOOD 
 
 thought to temporize by going to the door 
 and calling to Fred through the key-hole. 
 But at the first sound of her slippered feet 
 on the stairs, Fred's door flew open and he 
 appeared in his shirt-sleeves, holding Mrs. 
 Perkins's baby in his short arms. 
 
 " What's the matter, Miss Nely ?" 
 
 " What in the world, Fred !" they said at 
 the same time. 
 
 " It's the baby, Miss Nely. His Maw was 
 clean wo'e out with tendin' him, an' he 
 takes to me so mightily, I jes' 'lowed I'd 
 take care of him one night an' give her a 
 chance to sleep." 
 
 "Where is she?" asked Miss Cornelia. 
 
 " She's home !" 
 
 " Then you aren't married, Fred ?" 
 
 " No, 'm, not yet." 
 
 It was so ridiculous that Miss Cornelia 
 wanted to laugh, but Fred's face was so 
 grave and the baby so pretty that something 
 of the other side of the situation struck 
 across Miss Cornelia's consciousness. Fred 
 seemed to have swept and garnished his 
 room amazingly. Miss Cornelia sat down 
 in one chair and Fred sat in the oth- 
 14
 
 INSTINCT OF STEP- FATHERHOOD 
 
 er there were but two while he ex- 
 plained. 
 
 "You see, Miss Nely, I'm used to babies. 
 Maw's had 'leven besides me all girls 
 and I've hepped her with every one of 'em, 
 an' I know jes' what to do. Now Mis' 
 Perkins, altho' she's had fo', an' she bein' 
 their own borned mother, she don' rightly 
 know how to keep a chile from hollerin' and 
 yellin'. So it come about first with them 
 takin' to me so powerful, an' me bein' so 
 fond of the little fellers all boys, Miss 
 Nely. Then I reckon she saw how handy 
 I'd be to have around, for she kind of took 
 to me herseff. You know she is big and 
 dark, an' I'm little an' fair, an' it do look 
 like opposites like us was just nachally 
 drawed together an' 'pinted to marry. She's 
 lonesome, Miss Nely, an' she ain't wealthy, 
 an' she ain't strong, so she needs somebody 
 to take care of her. No, 'm, she don't look 
 delicate, but she is. She hates to set in a 
 straight cheer. She likes a rocker. I got 
 that one you're settin' in for her. It cost 
 me a dollar and seventy-five cents, but I 
 don't begrudge it to her, Miss Nely. " 
 '5
 
 INSTINCT OF STEP- FATHERHOOD 
 
 The baby cried just here, and Fred got 
 up and began to walk up and down with it 
 with a dignity which sat funnily upon his 
 short body. 
 
 " Is is he teething ?" asked Miss Cor- 
 nelia, awkwardly. 
 
 " No, 'm. Leastways that ain't what 
 makes him cry. She's weanin' him, an' I 
 'lowed it would be better to have him toolc- 
 en clean away from her, where he couldn't 
 see nor hear her. You know she's only got 
 two rooms in her house. So that's what 
 I'm doin'. I'm weaning him for her. I 
 'ain't never weaned only girl babies befo', 
 Miss Nely, but this un's a boy. An' bein' 
 a boy, an' liable to grow up to bad ways 
 is where the 'sponsibility comes in, Miss 
 Nely, of a man takin' awn family cares. I 
 wouldn't love to have these little fellers 
 know their Paw had no bad habits, Miss 
 Nely. Marryin' is expensive, I know, but 
 Maw will jes' have to give up some of her 
 luxuries, an' git along awn a dollar a month 
 from me, or maybe two. I mus' have at 
 least six dollars a month for my own 
 family. There, Miss Nely, jes' come an' 
 16
 
 INSTINCT OF STEP- FATHERHOOD 
 
 look at him. Didn't he go to sleep 
 pretty ?" 
 
 Miss Cornelia and Aunt Easter crept 
 back to the house as softly as they had 
 come. All Miss Cornelia's fine intentions 
 of talking Fred out of his intended marriage 
 had faded into thin air before his earnest 
 little square face and the manliness of his 
 honest eyes. The grotesqueness of the 
 situation did not seem as absurdly patent as 
 before. 
 
 " After all, what matter many years or 
 few, when truth and loyalty and chivalry 
 meet together in one sturdy little heart?" 
 thought Miss Cornelia, with a sentimentality 
 which Miss Caroline would have pooh- 
 poohed. 
 
 The next day was such a busy one, on ac- 
 count of making the preserves watermelon- 
 rind preserves, which everybody knows is 
 fussy work, and tomato preserves, done with 
 such care that each pear-shaped tomato 
 would hold its shape and yet be dripping in 
 its own luscious syrup (Miss Caroline always 
 used the pound-for-pound recipe for her 
 preserves) that it was the middle of the 
 B 17
 
 INSTINCT OF STEP- FATHERHOOD 
 
 afternoon before they noticed that both 
 Fred and the old buggy were gone. 
 
 Miss Caroline was visibly agitated. Her 
 delicate fingers were shrivelled with alum- 
 water and stained with fruit as they trem- 
 bled before Miss Cornelia's stricken gaze. 
 Miss Caroline knew nothing of " the ha'nt " 
 of the night before. 
 
 " He has gone ! And he will be married 
 before we can stop it now ! Oh, that fool- 
 ish child ! Sist' Nely, why didn't you make 
 me talk to him last night ?" 
 
 " Yonder dey come !" cried Aunt Easter. 
 " I sees de ole buggy awn de brow ob de 
 hill. De weddin' pahty's awn de way!" 
 
 " Then they must pass here. Sist' Nely, 
 come with me down to the big road yes, 
 just as you are. This is a call of duty." 
 
 She took her sister's reluctant hand, and 
 both old ladies, with the other hands neatly 
 holding their skirts from feet still trim and 
 small, stepped down the arbor-vitas drive to 
 the big road, down whose smooth stretch 
 came the Yarborough gray mare hitched to 
 the sad old skeleton buggy of the Peebles. 
 
 It was a sorry- looking wedding proces- 
 18
 
 INSTINCT OF STEP- FATHERHOOD 
 
 sion. The wheels of the buggy groaned 
 under the weight of the placid, large, mild- 
 eyed woman who towered above her small 
 but earnest bridegroom. The baby was in 
 her lap, the oldest boy on the seat between 
 them, and the other two packed in at their 
 feet. The torn curtains flapped in the 
 breeze and gave a certain banner effect to 
 an otherwise sombre equipage, and through 
 the holes in the dash-board the lively young- 
 sters pulled the patient old mare's tail and 
 prodded her with little sticks. 
 
 Mrs. Perkins was not at all abashed to be 
 stopped in this manner. She listened plac- 
 idly to all Miss Caroline had to say as to 
 why this marriage should not go forward, 
 but Fred's appealing blue eyes were glued 
 to Miss Cornelia's, for in her he felt that he 
 had an ally. She finally felt obliged, in the 
 face of her sister's convincing arguments, to 
 shake her head at him. 
 
 ' ; Did I understand you to say, Miss Cal- 
 line, that if Fred persists in his //Mentions 
 of marryin me that you won't let him work 
 for you no mo' ?" 
 
 " You certainly did, Bertha ; so the sooner
 
 INSTINCT OF STEP- FATHERHOOD 
 
 you turn around and go home the better for 
 you." 
 
 " Fred, honey," said the bride-elect, " it 
 ain't no use. If that eight dollars a month 
 goes, how you goin' to pervide for a family ? 
 He's so taken with the childern, Miss Cal- 
 line, that I do hate to disapp'inthim ; but if 
 yore mind is made up, I know mightily well 
 it ain't no mortal use trying to git you to 
 change it. Fred, honey, you know I tole 
 you I reckoned I'd better marry Mist' Tar- 
 bell, but you couldn't seem to let them chil- 
 dern go to no man who would bring 'em up 
 every which a-way. Come awn, honey, Miss 
 Calline's done spoke the final word, so let's 
 give up peaceable." 
 
 Fred fetched another sigh, such as always 
 accompanied any thought of his approach- 
 ing marriage, and slowly turned the mare's 
 head. 
 
 Nobody had made any fuss. It was all 
 very calm and proper. The two ladies 
 watched the wobbly course of the disap- 
 pointed wedding-party as it crept back up 
 the hill and disappeared over its brow. 
 
 That night Miss Cornelia saw Fred sit-
 
 INSTINCT OF STEP- FATHERHOOD 
 
 ting disconsolately alone, and went out to 
 him. 
 
 " I am so sorry, Fred, for your sake," she 
 began. 
 
 " Nemmine me, nemmine me, Miss Nely," 
 he said. " But think of them little fellers 
 with that man Tarbell for a Paw. He ain't 
 a perfessor nor nothin'." 
 
 He sighed deeply. 
 
 " They sho' were sweet little fellers, 
 weren't they, Miss Nely ? An' all boys. I 
 tell you, Miss Nely, it would a' been worth 
 while raisin' a family like that to be good 
 an' honest men. It used to make me feel 
 powerful solemn just thinkin' about it." 
 
 " To be good an' honest men," he 
 repeated. 
 
 He smiled up into Miss Cornelia's face. 
 
 " It was them I give up chawin' fur, Miss 
 Nely," he said, softly.
 
 A STUDY IN HEARTS
 
 A STUDY IN HEARTS 
 
 WHEN an attractive American girl is bored, 
 it generally means that she is not in love 
 with any one. It never means that no one 
 is in love with her. That unfortunate state 
 of things would cause her to be discontent- 
 ed not bored. Besides, there is always 
 somebody in love with the attractive Ameri- 
 can girl. Unhappily it too often is the 
 wrong somebody. 
 
 Jessica Drew was bored. 
 
 She sat by the window watching for the 
 postman. Not that she was looking for any 
 particular letter, but when several men are 
 interested in a girl, the advent of the post- 
 man is always fraught with mildly exciting 
 possibilities.
 
 A STUDY IN HEARTS 
 
 There is something particularly rumina- 
 tive about the occupation of watching for 
 the postman. A woman is liable to feel 
 gently sentimental at such a time. There 
 are so few things in this rushing American 
 life of ours which tend that way, that for 
 this reason, perhaps, the habit of watching 
 for the postman should be encouraged. 
 
 Jessica was feeling a trifle hurt just 
 enough so to make her thoughts amiably 
 cynical. She divided girls into three class- 
 es. If a girl had one lover, she was called 
 " a sweet creature " by the other girls. If 
 she had two or three, she was respectfully 
 alluded to as "fascinating." If she were 
 unhappy enough to have won half a dozen, 
 with more in prospect, she was stigmatized 
 as ".# coquette." 
 
 Jessica had just been called a coquette. 
 
 Is it so short a step from the sentimental 
 to the moral, or why is it that conscience 
 often utilizes the quiet moments of watching 
 for the postman to do its most effective 
 work? 
 
 Jessica and her conscience were on inti- 
 mate but not particularly agreeable terms. 
 26
 
 A STUDY IN HEARTS 
 
 One sometimes has friends of that descrip- 
 tion. 
 
 In analyzing why she was neither entirely 
 pleased nor entirely offended by the epi- 
 thet, Jessica discovered, in one of those 
 sudden blinding soul-illuminations, in which 
 one's conscience takes such ghoulish delight, 
 that her vanity was pricked at the power 
 and fascination over men which the term 
 implied, but that her higher nature revolted 
 at the implication that she would stoop to 
 trifle with love. 
 
 In her secret heart she knew that some- 
 times she did so stoop. But never at the 
 beginning of an affair, she assured herself. 
 It never would occur to her to try to win 
 a man's* love. But when she discovered 
 that he already was entangled, why, then 
 why, then perhaps she led him on a trifle. 
 It was wrong, of course. So many agreeable 
 diversions are wrong. But how in the world, 
 she argued, warmly, are you going to find 
 out whether you like a man unless you do 
 encourage him ? You never even begin to 
 know him until he falls in love with you ! 
 
 Jessica's cheeks flushed. Then her eyes 
 27
 
 A STUDY IN HEARTS 
 
 grew wistful. To be sure, she had ex- 
 pected that when love came to her heart 
 he would herald his approach with no un- 
 certain sound. But as he never had come 
 thus far, she felt justified in experimenting 
 a trifle to test her own feelings, somewhat 
 regardless of her lover's whoever he hap- 
 pened to be. 
 
 She knew so well that she had no right to 
 do this under any pretext that her con- 
 science became even more disagreeable as 
 a companion than usual. 
 
 She wished that postman would hurry! 
 There was no sense in his stopping to talk 
 with all the housemaids along the street ! 
 
 She comforted herself a little with the 
 thought that she alone knew the truth con- 
 cerning her shortcomings, for she possessed 
 to a degree the tact of compelling from 
 others a faith in her goodness which she in 
 nowise shared with them. The men them- 
 selves always went away with the idea that 
 if Fate had not been adverse, Jessica un- 
 doubtedly would have married them. 
 
 Thus she was spared the reproaches of 
 her lovers. They even defended her against 
 28
 
 A STUDY IN HEARTS 
 
 her women friends, the unmarried of whom 
 were not so considerate. 
 
 She reformed periodically. But to her 
 dismay she discovered that the only result 
 therefrom was to cause her to be brusque 
 or in some way unpleasant to an incipient 
 lover, who, as yet, not being sufficiently un- 
 der her spell to forgive her manner as a 
 vagary of perfection, thereupon became of- 
 fended and withdrew, under the impression 
 that she either was inordinately conceited, 
 or else had a very bad temper. So, smart- 
 ing under this palpable injustice, she swung 
 back to her habit of letting things take their 
 own course. 
 
 She called her young ladyhood " a career 
 of magnificent beginnings and reprehensible 
 endings." 
 
 Her affairs were singularly subjective, for 
 in spite of this " weakness " her own word 
 her ideals of womanliness were lofty. Men 
 might pour out their hearts to her in lan- 
 guage which would have broken down a re- 
 serve less fixed than hers, but they were not 
 permitted so much as to touch the tips of 
 her fingers. Her personal dignity kept at 
 29
 
 A STUDY IN HEARTS 
 
 bay all profanation save that of words. In 
 this way she compelled their respect, and 
 kept it after they were released from the 
 spell of her magnetic personality. 
 
 An affair of the heart of this type can only 
 be brought to perfection by the American 
 girl, and it has no name. Jessica objected 
 to the word flirtation as only a degree less 
 vulgar than the deed. She considered " co- 
 quette " frivolous, and claimed that the 
 French word carried with it no idea of the 
 brain necessarily involved in a woman who 
 essayed the role in America. 
 
 The charm of Jessica Drew defied analy- 
 sis. She fully appreciated the fascination 
 with which a certain amount of mystery sur- 
 rounds a woman. Her manner carried out 
 a mysteriousness which her face, with its 
 strange lights and shadows, suggested. One 
 felt at once that she was singular ; then at- 
 tractive ; then alluring. But one must with- 
 draw from her presence to discover that 
 under it all she was supremely clever ; so 
 clever even as to conceal her cleverness 
 from men. She labelled herself "Harm- 
 less." Men oftener found her deadly. 
 3
 
 A STUDY IN HEARTS 
 
 As is the case with a masterful person- 
 ality, an unusually shrewd intellect, and an 
 inflexible will (though in the case of Jes- 
 sica all this was sheathed under a guileless 
 exterior), she had hitherto attracted men of 
 the opposite temperament. The gentle, con- 
 siderate, even-tempered man, with no idea 
 of controlling circumstances or braving 
 Fate, always found himself sooner or later 
 at the feet of Jessica Drew. One cannot be 
 sure that she ever would have called the 
 apathy of feeling which this type of man 
 created in her by so harsh a name as con- 
 tempt, but certain it is that those mysteri- 
 ous eyes of hers had the suspicion of a look 
 in them which was almost mocking, and her 
 restlessness sometimes made itself known in 
 an occasional satirical speech, directed with 
 fatal precision at the weakest point of her 
 lover's armor a speech barbed with a wit 
 which almost brought the water to his eyes, 
 but which, uttered in her velvet voice, he 
 never had the courage nor the skill to parry. 
 
 " A letter for you, Jessica," said a voice 
 at the door. 
 
 She turned with a start. That insidious 
 3 1
 
 A STUDY IN HEARTS 
 
 postman must have evaded her watchfulness, 
 for she had not seen him come after all. 
 
 " Only one, Gladys ?" she asked, recover- 
 ing herself. 
 
 " Only one that you will care about," an- 
 swered her sister. "These others seem to 
 be in ladies' handwriting." 
 
 Gladys had all the tactless honesty of fif- 
 teen years. 
 
 Jessica glanced quickly at her sister, then 
 drew her brows together as if pained. Gladys 
 was too gentle to be satirical and too sweet 
 to be unkind. Jessica seemed for the first 
 time to be obtaining an outside view of her- 
 self to-day. Hitherto she had been an un- 
 conscious Egoist. 
 
 " Come here, dear," she said, holding out 
 her hand to Gladys, with a little catch in 
 her voice. Jessica was usually so undemon- 
 strative that Gladys half shyly put her hand 
 in her sister's. 
 
 " This letter is from my old German 
 teacher, who is so poor and alone in the 
 world that I am taking care of her out of 
 my allowance. This one is from Mrs. 
 Lloyd Stanley, the mother of Georgia Stan- 
 32
 
 A STUDY IN HEARTS 
 
 ley, and my very dearest friend. She is the 
 cleverest, most human woman I ever knew. 
 She is old enough to be my mother, yet 
 there is more of the spice of life, more of 
 the fun of perennial youth in her, than in 
 any ten girls I know. I would much rather 
 have either of these letters than this one, 
 which is from Frank Fair. Without read- 
 ing them, I know how they will affect me. 
 Don't think meanly of me, Gladys." 
 
 " Indeed I don't. I think the world of 
 you, Jessica." 
 
 Jessica pressed the girl's hand in sudden 
 gratitude. Gladys, feeling herself dismissed, 
 left the room with a sigh, wondering for the 
 thousandth time if, when she became a 
 young lady, she would be half as fascinat- 
 ing and successful as Jessica. 
 
 Left alone, Jessica read the letters from 
 the two women first. With a little secret 
 thrill of self-contempt, she realized that nat- 
 urally she would have read Frank's first, if 
 it had not been for what she had just said 
 to Gladys. 
 
 When she came to his, she sat turning it 
 over in her hands and wondering what he 
 c 33
 
 A STUDY IN HEARTS 
 
 could have to say. Somehow she dreaded 
 to read it. She had not quite liked the way 
 he had taken his dismissal. He seemed a 
 little revengeful more mortified than hurt; 
 as if his vanity had been more deeply wound- 
 ed than his love. He had acted as if his 
 turn would come later. 
 
 But this idea of retaliation seemed so im- 
 possible, so unworthy of him to plan it, and 
 of her to suspect it, that she put it from her 
 mind. What if he had written to reopen 
 the painful subject ? A doubt assailed her, 
 as once or twice it had done before, as to 
 her wisdom in dismissing him. He came 
 dangerously near being what she always had 
 said she must have in the man she married. 
 She had not given him credit for persistence 
 enough to brave a second refusal. If he 
 had she almost believed she but no. 
 She had to admit, however, that in the 
 event that he had the perseverance to re- 
 new his proposals, it would remove one 
 cause of reproach against him, and she 
 might find herself confronted with a prob- 
 lem. 
 
 Then she opened the letter. 
 34
 
 A STUDY IN HEARTS 
 
 II 
 
 With a devout thankfulness that no one 
 can read the egotism of our secret thoughts, 
 she read it a second time all the way through. 
 It was only a note asking permission to pre- 
 sent a friend to her, a certain Ramsay Van 
 Buren. 
 
 " Where have I heard that name before?" 
 thought Jessica. " Not from Frank Fair, 
 surely. I do believe I have heard Mrs. 
 Stanley speak of him." 
 
 She went to her desk and wrote : 
 
 " MY DEAREST FRIEND, Your delicious 
 letter has this moment arrived, together 
 with one from Frank Fair, saying that 
 Mr. Ramsay Van Buren will be here this 
 week, and that, feeling sure I would enjoy 
 meeting such a man, he had taken the lib- 
 erty of giving him a letter to me. Is this 
 Mr. Van Buren your Mr. Van Buren ? Tell 
 me instantly all you know about him. Isn't 
 he the one who is engaged to Polly Pope ? 
 If so he is to be avoided as dangerous. I 
 35
 
 A STUDY IN HEARTS 
 
 have heard too much of his fascinations to 
 trust myself with him. I think I shall take 
 to the woods and fast and pray until he 
 leaves town. 
 
 " Why should Frank want me to meet 
 this man so particularly, unless 
 
 " Hurry and write to me. I will answer 
 your dear letter properly this afternoon. 
 " Yours with love, 
 
 "JESSICA." 
 
 Two days later she received Mrs. Stan- 
 ley's reply, with a special-delivery stamp on 
 it. Jessica laughed when she saw it. But 
 she cut it open with unusual haste and 
 read: 
 
 " DEAREST GIRL, The plot thickens. 
 Your Mr. Van Buren is, indeed, my Mr. 
 Van Buren alas, not Polly Pope's Mr. 
 Van Buren any more. My dear, that en- 
 gagement is off, and silence reigns supreme. 
 Of course he does not admit that he broke 
 it I'd have Lloyd thrash him if he did 
 not that it is any of my business whom he 
 flirts with, to be sure ! but all his friends 
 36
 
 A STUDY IN HEARTS 
 
 think he did, so he openly gets the credit 
 for it. 
 
 "He is undoubtedly the most attractive 
 man I ever met, and the keenest. You 
 never knew anybody like him. Even I, old 
 married woman that I am, with Georgie on 
 my hands to make me ashamed of saying it 
 even I come under his spell, and feel, 
 when he looks at me, as if he could see the 
 pattern of the wall-paper behind my head. 
 His eyes bore holes in my brain. I feel as 
 if I were being hypnotized in a mild degree. 
 He has a high-bred air and a lofty bearing, 
 "as if he mocked himself and scorned his 
 spirit which could be moved " to play a part 
 upon this insignificant stage of life. He is 
 very conceited. I have heard it said (I feel 
 culpable in repeating to you the gossip of 
 a chit like Georgie and the girls, but you 
 wanted it, so pray forgive me) that he has 
 said that he knew perfectly well that he 
 could have any girl in town for the ask- 
 ing, but that he didn't want any of them. 
 Jessica, I can hardly believe that he said 
 such a dreadful thing. But if he did flirt 
 with him, Jessie, darling. Bring him to his 
 37
 
 A STUDY IN HEARTS 
 
 knees. Make him propose to you, and then 
 throw him over for poor Polly Pope's sake. 
 More girls than she would present you with 
 a wreath of immortelles if you would. You 
 are the only girl in the world who could do 
 it and keep her head, besides being the only 
 one to whom I would suggest such a thing. 
 Oh, I hope the Lord won't punish me for 
 this by allowing some old woman who 
 ought to know better to urge a similar thing 
 on my Georgie ! What a weak thing I am ! 
 Perhaps he never said it, Jessica . 
 
 " I think when you meet him you will agree 
 with me in saying that he is too good not 
 to be better. He needs to have a great deal 
 taken out of him before he can be satisfac- 
 tory. But he is too clever to be wasted. 
 
 "I am quite sure that you will get at the 
 true inwardness of him after all this. Make 
 him propose to you before you get through 
 with him, and I'll give you a dollar ! It 
 won't hurt him in the least. It will be good 
 for him. He needs the discipline of a Circe, 
 and that's you, dear. Oh, what a wretch I 
 am ! 
 
 " I am going to buy my first pair of glasses 
 38
 
 A STUDY IN HEARTS 
 
 to-morrow. I am sick with the thought of 
 the nasty things, but I can't see any more. 
 I may write better after this. So might it 
 be! 
 
 " Georgie has gained twelve pounds with 
 the sea-bathing. She would be vexed if she 
 knew I told you. 
 
 " Good-bye, dear one. 
 
 " Your loving affinity,- 
 
 " LUCIA BURKE STANLEY. 
 
 " P. S. I'm sure I don't know why Frank 
 wants him to know you, unless A man 
 wouldn't be such a fool as to introduce 
 Ramsay Van Buren to a woman he loved, 
 even if the woman had jilted him, unless 
 Oh, I quite agree with you ! L. B. S." 
 
 Jessica felt that this was a matter which 
 deserved thought. She smiled a little de- 
 risively at the idea of Polly Pope, or any 
 other of the girls he was thought to have 
 flouted, being grateful to her if she should 
 succeed where they had failed. 
 
 " They would hate me for it, no matter 
 how much they might have urged it upon 
 me beforehand. Girls always do. And 
 39
 
 A STUDY IN HEARTS 
 
 they would only give me a wreath of im- 
 mortelles from gratitude if I would be so 
 good as to die and let them hang it on my 
 simple headstone. Thank fortune I don't 
 know Polly Pope or any of them. I won- 
 der when he will come ?" 
 
 He came that day. He was waiting for 
 her in the drawing-room, and thinking with 
 no little amusement of his lunch at the club 
 with two men who knew her and who admired 
 her so entirely. One had evidently been in 
 love with her and had got over it. He 
 couldn't quite make out whether the other 
 one was now interested and was silent from 
 that cause, or whether he was not yet en- 
 tangled. He thought it absurd to find one girl 
 turning the heads of so many men really 
 fine fellows, too. Probably she had master- 
 ed a few of the first principles of her art, and 
 these had carried her triumphantly thus far. 
 He hated a flirt. He knew he wouldn't 
 like her. He told himself that he had only 
 called because he knew she must know of 
 Frank Fair's letter. He smiled again when 
 he remembered Woodford's tone to-day 
 when he discovered his (Van Buren's) des- 
 40
 
 A STUDY IN HEARTS 
 
 tination. "Going to call on Miss Drew? 
 The Lord be with you !" 
 
 Van Buren was a little disconcerted when 
 he suddenly became aware that Miss Drew 
 was standing before him with a faint smile 
 on her lips at his evident enjoyment of some 
 recollection. 
 
 She held out her hand, and he had to 
 cross the room to take it. There was some- 
 thing unusual both in her touch and the way 
 she shook hands. She did not shake hands 
 at all, he remembered afterwards. She 
 put her hand into his and he had held 
 it for a moment. It was different, but it 
 was very pleasant. He was glad he had 
 come. 
 
 They covered the first few minutes very 
 well, each studying the other under the cover 
 of the mawkish platitudes by which people 
 begin to knew each other. Each discovered 
 that the other was in no way like the pre- 
 conceived idea. 
 
 Jessica was saying over and over to her- 
 self : " He never said it. I don't believe it. 
 I can't." 
 
 He was indeed unlike any one she had 
 4*
 
 A STUDY IN HEARTS 
 
 ever known. He was a power. She knew 
 at once why Mrs. Stanley had said he 
 seemed half scornful of society at large. 
 Mrs. Stanley was magnetic enough to feel 
 this self-appreciation, but Jessica was sur- 
 prised that her friend's astuteness should 
 have been so much at fault as to name it 
 conceit. Here, at least, was a foeman 
 worthy of her steel. Here was a man to 
 whom she could talk. She began to feel a 
 tingling in her brain, as if her ideas were 
 being called for by one who deserved them, 
 and as if they were waking out of the sleep 
 into which they had been lulled by the con- 
 versation of other men. 
 
 Van Buren was thinking : " Her eyes are 
 wonderful. They were yellow when I first 
 saw them, and as clear as amber. Now 
 they are troubled with shadows, which come 
 and go. She is worse than beautiful. I 
 wonder what she is thinking about ? I 
 wonder what she thinks of me?" 
 
 This question was a new one. There 
 
 never before had been any doubt in his 
 
 mind as to what any girl thought of him. 
 
 Most girls were transparent, and he, unlike 
 
 42
 
 A STUDY IN HEARTS 
 
 most men, was brilliantly interested in the 
 study of human nature. 
 
 Jessica recognized his interest. 
 
 " He is regarding me as a sentient being," 
 she said to herself. " Perhaps he suspects 
 that I am capable of thought. Heavens ! 
 he must not know that ! I must be more 
 frivolous!" 
 
 Her curiosity to know just why Frank 
 Fair had sent Mr. Van Buren to see her 
 was tempered with a certain fear of the 
 truth when it should be discovered. He 
 had come so near being the right one for 
 her, yet had just missed it by a hair's- 
 breadth. She had not quite got her own 
 consent to trust him. Her faith was not 
 intuitive. She had reasoned herself into it 
 because she felt ashamed of being so igno- 
 ble as to refuse it. Her present predica- 
 ment was precisely the one she had been in 
 many times before. Instead of being able 
 to credit him with the noblest qualities, she 
 doubted him persistently. She felt herself 
 grow hot with self - indignation that she 
 stooped to credit him with vengeance so 
 unworthy as to introduce to her a man so 
 43
 
 A STUDY IN HEARTS 
 
 well known to be attractive as to be danger- 
 ous* Jessica was so hopelessly honest with 
 herself that she tried to believe it was only 
 a base reflection of her own base suggestion 
 to avenge poor Polly Pope. 
 
 " Evidently you will not feel at ease until 
 you have decided," said Mr. Van Buren. 
 
 Jessica looked up so plainly startled that 
 he smiled. 
 
 " How did you know ?" she said, bravely. 
 
 " How fine of her not to stoop to equivo- 
 cate !" he said to himself. 
 
 "Oh, by the lights and shadows in your 
 eyes. Your mind is wrestling with a prob- 
 lem. I cannot flatter myself that I am the 
 problem, but you are wondering if I can 
 help you to solve it." 
 
 " I wish there were more men like you," 
 she said, simply. " It is gratifying to meet 
 one who expects a woman to think." 
 
 Van Buren made a mental recoil. She 
 had done precisely what he had been wait- 
 ing for. It was an old trick. It was one 
 of his own, therefore he recognized it. She 
 had struck the personal note. All coquettes 
 know how to do it. Only few do it with 
 44
 
 A STUDY IN HEARTS 
 
 quite the air of simplicity that Jessica used. 
 Her voice sounded grateful. Nevertheless 
 he determined not to fall a victim. Her 
 fascinations were too well known. 
 
 "Then I was right?" he hazarded. 
 
 " You were quite right. I was wondering 
 if a woman ever were justified in disregard- 
 ing her intuitions." 
 
 " I don't know. We men have none." 
 
 u I know you are said not to have, but 
 that reason or logic which gives you a hold 
 over another human intelligence, such as 
 you have just displayed, must be akin to 
 intuition." 
 
 Van Buren felt such a satisfaction per- 
 meate his being at the subtlety of her re- 
 mark that he pulled himself up with a start. 
 He was disgusted to find that she was actu- 
 ally making headway with him after all his 
 warnings. He was annoyed, too, to find 
 that her tones had such sincerity in them 
 that her flattery sounded so much like the 
 simple truth uttered with a child's direct- 
 ness. This, then, was her game, he thought. 
 She steals "the livery of the court of 
 Heaven to serve the devil in !" 
 45
 
 A STUDY IN HEARTS 
 
 " Men, I believe, possess but five senses, 
 women six, and coquettes seven," he said, 
 looking her directly in the eyes. 
 
 Jessica's electrical nature felt the sudden 
 change, and she knew just how it had come 
 about. She had seen other men grope blindly 
 through it. This one was clever enough to 
 extricate himself. Nevertheless, she felt the 
 blow. As she did not reply at once, he 
 added : 
 
 "That is where a woman has the advan- 
 tage over a man." 
 
 His ironical tone stung the girl. 
 
 " And a brute over both," she said, with 
 her amber eyes turning dark, and the scarlet 
 coming into her lips. " In the brute it is 
 instinct; in woman, intuition. Man is the 
 only creature sent helpless into the world, to 
 blunder along on reason." 
 
 Her recognition of his perception and her 
 swift reproof he regarded with an admira- 
 tion he never yet had accorded to any 
 woman. His sense of humor and his ap- 
 preciation of her pluck overbalanced his 
 chagrin, and he laughed. 
 
 Jessica only smiled. She was sincerely 
 46
 
 A STUDY IN HEARTS 
 
 hurt. Most men believed her to be better 
 than she really was. Here was a man who 
 would not believe her to be even as good 
 as she knew herself to be. She was stirred 
 beyond all reason. The placidity of both 
 was ruffled. The positive and negative had 
 come together with a flash which was at once 
 disquieting and exciting. 
 
 "You believe, then, in instinct over in- 
 tuition?" he asked. 
 
 " Brutes follow their instinct blindly if 
 left to themselves, and never make mistakes 
 unless interfered with by human beings. 
 Women only make mistakes when they dis- 
 regard their intuition. Men, pertinaciously 
 following reason to a logical conclusion, 
 make the most mistakes of all," she an- 
 swered. 
 
 There was no bitterness in her tone, only 
 deep feeling. 
 
 " How so ?" he asked. 
 
 " By satisfying their own intelligence re- 
 gardless of the fact that in so doing they 
 often wound another's heart." 
 
 Van Buren regarded her suspiciously to 
 see if she were becoming personal. But 
 47
 
 A STUDY IN HEARTS 
 
 her cool tones and clear eyes assured him 
 that she was but generalizing. 
 
 He was surprised to find himself disap- 
 pointed that she was not personal. He 
 resented this weakness in himself to the 
 extent that he rose to go. 
 
 " A clever woman like yourself nee^d never 
 fear that her heart will ever be wounded by 
 anything," he said, unwisely. 
 
 Jessica was as quick to take advantage of 
 the opening as if she had read his look. 
 
 " Were you personal ? I am afraid I was 
 only generalizing." 
 
 He bit his lip in momentary vexation. 
 Then something in the slightness of the 
 girl as she stood before him, something 
 spiritual in her expression as she raised her 
 eyes to his, appealed to him more strongly 
 than anything she had said or done. He 
 felt that as a man he had not been just to 
 her, a woman. They had come into each 
 other's power only to feel that they had 
 begun wrongly, and had placed each other 
 at a disadvantage. Van Buren's fine gener- 
 osity made him put something of this into 
 words. 
 
 48
 
 A STUDY IN HEARTS 
 
 " I wish we might begin over," he said, 
 simply. " We could do better." 
 
 Jessica recognized instantly what he had 
 left unsaid. 
 
 " No," she said ; " let us go on from now. 
 Only " she hesitated and put her hand in 
 his "only do not believe me to be so 
 clever that I am not a woman, with all a 
 woman's helplessness." 
 
 Ill 
 
 Van Buren turned away from the touch 
 of Jessica's fingers, and the look on her face 
 more nearly conquered, in spite of all his 
 warnings, than he would have believed pos- 
 sible. Her personality seemed to tingle in 
 the innermost recesses of his being. She 
 touched a chord he did not know he pos- 
 sessed. She appealed to him. Great Heav- 
 ens! how it appealed to a man sated with 
 commonplace flattery to have so clever a 
 woman lay down her arms at the outset and 
 beg a truce a truce not so much for her 
 own protection as because she knew it was 
 D 49
 
 A STUDY IN HEARTS 
 
 wasting the time of both ! His imagination, 
 stirred by her strange beauty, supplied all 
 that she had not said. She meant him to 
 understand that fencing would be so futile, 
 so unworthy. Why should they not mutu- 
 ally capitulate and continue to explore ? 
 
 There was nothing of the coquette in her 
 appearance. The delicacy of her womanli- 
 ness, the spirituality of her mental vision 
 refuted the idea of the coarseness of feeling 
 which the word implied. She had stirred 
 impulses in him which no one had ever 
 called out before. She had appealed to the 
 higher nature he always had suspected him- 
 self of possessing but never had been able 
 to prove. And now that she had proved it 
 so unwittingly and so unconsciously by just 
 permitting him to catch a glimpse of her 
 sweet woman's soul, gratitude alone would 
 urge him to respond gratitude and Hang 
 it all! was it gratitude? Wasn't it grati- 
 fied vanity? The devil take it! wasn't it 
 love? 
 
 He stopped short and struck his stick so 
 sharply upon the pavement that two men in 
 front of him looked around. 
 5
 
 A STUDY IN HEARTS 
 
 " Pay no attention to me, gentlemen," he 
 said to himself. " I am not even a lunatic. 
 I am only an ass." 
 
 IV 
 
 Left alone, Jessica fled to her room and 
 closed the door. 
 
 "It's come!" she said to herself, pacing 
 up and down with her hands wrenched to- 
 gether. " It's come at last the retribution 
 I've been waiting for. I knew it would 
 overtake me some time. I've warned my- 
 self too many times to shrink now. Oh, 
 Frank was clever ! Frank was very clever ! 
 He knew me better than I thought. He 
 has avenged himself already. He has made 
 me meet my Fate, knowing perfectly well 
 that I never could penetrate his 'armor. 
 Now it is my turn. Oh, I knew it would 
 come ! but that does not make it any the 
 less hard. I ought to hate Frank for it, but 
 I don't. I am glad of it. I am glad to 
 have known this man. Now that does not 
 mean that I have any hope yes, it does,
 
 A STUDY IN HEARTS 
 
 too ! It means that I think I shall see him 
 again, although he did not say so. It means 
 that I think if I have been successful with 
 so many, many others, why not with this 
 one? Oh, but he is not like the others! 
 He is not like any one I ever knew before. 
 That is just what Mrs. Stanley said. She 
 warned me. Everybody warned me. Yet 
 here I go, blind and deaf, insisting on my 
 own discomfiture, fairly overjoyed at the 
 idea that I am going to be made a fool of, 
 and determined not to draw back even while 
 I can. While I can, did I say ? Why, is it 
 not too late already ? Could I ever forget 
 him even now? From this time on must he 
 not be a part of me, only I must remind 
 myself only to end in sorrow and distress 
 for me. He will not care. He is an older 
 hand at it than I am. If I were not so 
 despicable, if I had lived my life as nobly as 
 I knew how, if I had followed the highest, 
 I should at least not be tortured by these 
 doubts and apprehensions. I suppose wom- 
 en who never have encouraged a love they 
 did not intend to return never dream that 
 an honest love might not be reciprocated. 
 5 2
 
 A STUDY IN HEARTS 
 
 They are not tortured with remorse. They 
 do not dread that the fair appearance on 
 the man's part may be only the cloak of 
 trifling of which they so often have made 
 use themselves. What a fool I am to think 
 that he will care for me ! Look at poor 
 Polly Pope and all the others ! I am only 
 the last one. In three months from now 
 people will be saying, 'There was Polly 
 Pope and poor Jessica Drew !' Oh, 
 I could not bear that! I could not! I 
 could not ! How noble I am ! I believe 
 I dread what people would say more than 
 any pain I might suffer! If I might only 
 suffer in private and have no one know! 
 Oh, I am a magnificent creature ! Any 
 man ought to be proud of my love it is so 
 worthy, so lofty !" 
 
 She knelt down in front of a chair and 
 laid her head on her folded arms. 
 
 "Yet," she whispered, "it's in me to be 
 noble, if only I had half a chance. If I 
 loved a truly good man, I could forget 
 everything and be different." 
 
 She sat there thinking for some time. It 
 grew dusk. She sprang up suddenly and 
 53
 
 A STUDY IN HEARTS 
 
 found Mrs. Stanley's letter. She read it 
 over deliberately twice, then put it back in 
 the envelope. 
 
 " That settles it," she said, aloud. " I will 
 at least have the courage to save myself, 
 now that I can reason it all out. Mrs. 
 Stanley is at Narragansett Pier. I'll sur- 
 prise her by accepting her invitation. I'll 
 go to-morrow." 
 
 Jessica colored under her veil as she set- 
 tled herself in the train the next day, to re- 
 alize that she was running away she, Jes- 
 sica Drew, actually running away. She did 
 not feel as comfortable as one should when 
 she is doing her duty and saving herself 
 from a palpable danger. Instead, she felt 
 miserably uncertain and reluctant to go. 
 She felt that she had been foolish to be so 
 precipitate. She ought to have waited to 
 see him just once more. She smiled a little 
 bitterly to realize that she was only cheat- 
 ing herself, and that the reason she felt 
 54
 
 A STUDY IN HEARTS 
 
 that she ought to have seen him again was 
 just because she wanted to see him yes, 
 she admitted it freely to herself she want- 
 ed to see him again, more than anything 
 else in the world. 
 
 As the train rushed on, some one entered 
 from the smoking-car. She looked up and 
 encountered Mr. Van Buren's startled gaze. 
 
 He hesitated a moment palpably, then 
 came and sat down beside her, placing her 
 wrap on the front seat. 
 
 "That seat was mine," he said, with a 
 curious, repressed smile of self-derision. 
 
 " How strange," murmured Jessica, " that 
 I should have taken this one." 
 
 "Not at all," he answered, grimly. 
 
 Jessica looked up at him timidly. He had 
 not once looked towards her. 
 
 "I thought you meant to stay in town 
 longer," she said, at length. 
 
 " I did. I came away very suddenly. I 
 have just written you a note and sent you 
 some roses." 
 
 He seemed to hurl these admissions at 
 her. Jessica felt a wild impulse to tele- 
 graph that the note and roses be forwarded 
 55
 
 A STUDY IN HEARTS 
 
 to her. She could not bear to miss the first 
 flowers he had sent to her in all probability 
 the only flowers he would ever send. 
 
 "Oh, thank you so much," she said. 
 
 U J 
 
 "You did not tell me yesterday that you 
 intended to leave town to-day," he inter- 
 rupted her. 
 
 " Did I not ?" she said, carelessly, regain- 
 ing her hold upon herself as she saw him 
 losing his. Inside her frock was Mrs. 
 Stanley's letter, which she had brought 
 to brace herself with if she found herself 
 weakening. She placed her hand over 
 it and heard it crackle. She wondered 
 how far he was going. She felt her resolu- 
 tion weakening. It was so good to be near 
 him again. He was such a power. 
 
 " I am going to Narragansett Pier," he 
 said, presently. " I suppose you are going 
 there also?" 
 
 Jessica caught her breath in sudden terror. 
 
 " No," she said, hurriedly, " I am going 
 to " where in Heaven's name was her Aunt 
 Livingstone's cottage ? " I am going to 
 York Harbor." 
 
 56
 
 A STUDY IN HEARTS 
 
 " But this is not the train for York Har- 
 bor," he said, looking at her for the first 
 time, his man's mind driving out all thought 
 of love at the idea of a woman's having got 
 on the wrong train. 
 
 ' ; Oh !" said Jessica, coloring hotly. " Can 
 my father have made a mistake ? I thought 
 I told him I wanted to go to York first." 
 
 ' Then you meant to go to Narragansett 
 later?" 
 
 " Yes, Mrs. Stanley is there." 
 
 " Then go to her first," he said, eagerly. 
 
 " No, no," cried Jessica. " I must go to 
 York Harbor. You must arrange it for me. 
 You must help me. My aunt is expecting 
 me." 
 
 Her eyes fell as she remembered that her 
 aunt at that very moment was dangerously 
 ill, and that she could in nowise be received 
 there. 
 
 "Give yourself no uneasiness, I beg of 
 you, Miss Drew. I will take you there my- 
 self," he said. 
 
 Jessica laughed a little hysterically. 
 
 "You must do no such thing," she said. 
 " I will go on to Narragansett." 
 57
 
 A STUDY IN HEARTS 
 
 Van Buren was chagrined to realize what 
 a sweep of joy those words gave him. He 
 looked down at her flower-like face and de- 
 liberately gave himself up to the current of 
 his passion. 
 
 VI 
 
 It was the curse of triflers such as these 
 that, in the month which followed, neither 
 Jessica nor Van Buren could take all the 
 comfort from the blissful pastime of falling 
 in love with which that rapturous occupa- 
 tion is usually fraught. Each was conscious 
 of his own sincerity for the first time. Each 
 constantly doubted the other's. Mrs. Stan- 
 ley was overjoyed beyond words to express 
 to have so delicious a flirtation brought be- 
 fore her very eyes, and unconsciously she 
 augmented Jessica's distrust by her laughter, 
 warnings, hints, advice, all put in so clever 
 a way that Jessica would rather have died 
 than admit the truth. 
 
 " Jessica, darling," Mrs. Stanley often 
 said, " it is as good as a play. I never 
 saw such acting. I never should dream that 
 58
 
 A STUDY IN HEARTS 
 
 he was not desperately in love with you if 
 he had not treated poor Polly Pope in such 
 a manner. I believe he is capable of any- 
 thing. Go on with it though, dearest. You 
 can bring him to his knees if any one can. 
 He will be a different creature." 
 
 " I can't bear to hear you talk that way, 
 Lucia," said Jessica. " Suppose we are 
 wrong about Polly Pope ?" 
 
 " I know it, my dear. It is wicked of us. 
 Oh, what if some one should ever urge my 
 Georgie to flirt as I have urged you ? Sup- 
 pose we stop it at once and behave our- 
 selves ? No harm has been done as yet." 
 
 " Of course no harm has been done as 
 yet !" echoed Jessica, drearily. 
 
 " You are not natural with him, Jessica, 
 darling. You sound artificial to me, who 
 know you so well. He must be clever 
 enough to detect it." 
 
 " I dare not be natural with him. I am 
 on my guard constantly, lest I be caught 
 napping." 
 
 " It must be a great bore," observed Mrs. 
 Stanley. 
 
 They all went back to town together. 
 59
 
 A STUDY IN HEARTS 
 
 To Van Buren it seemed that he never 
 could leave Jessica voluntarily. If he could 
 have believed the evidence of his own 
 senses, he would have ended his suspense 
 long ago, but the words of his friend, Frank 
 Fair, kept running in his mind with fatal 
 persistency. " Remember, old man," he had 
 said, " she is the most consummate actress 
 you ever met. Everything comes from her 
 head. I never yet have detected an act 
 which came from her heart if, indeed, she 
 has one." 
 
 These words told more to a man like 
 Ramsay Van Buren than Frank Fair 
 dreamed, and it was on account of them 
 that Van Buren remained in New York, 
 leaving Jessica to return to her home with- 
 out telling her that he loved her. 
 
 The autumn passed away. Van Buren 
 heard of her at Lenox just in time to escape 
 going there himself. He purposely avoided 
 Frank Fair, dreading to hear any more on a 
 subject which was rapidly becoming the 
 main issue with him. 
 
 The clay before Christmas he was walk- 
 ing down Broadway, thinking how absurd 
 60
 
 A STUDY IN HEARTS 
 
 it was to let any one influence him in a 
 matter which Jessica alone could settle. 
 She had come to be so close to him, so high 
 and fine since he had left her, that he no 
 longer thought of anything except that he 
 wanted her ; he wanted her in his life more 
 than he wanted anything else in the world. 
 
 He suddenly decided to go to see her 
 to go that very day. A weight seemed lift- 
 ed from his heart the moment he did so. 
 He paused on the corner of Twenty-third 
 Street to light his cigarette. A chill, eager 
 wind swept up the street and blew out the 
 match. He pulled up his fur collar and 
 tried again. Again the match went out. 
 He tried a third time with the same result. 
 With an exclamation of impatience he 
 flung down his last match and moved on, 
 when a little newsboy, with a shrewd, merry 
 face, lighted a match which burned bravely 
 in spite of the wind and held it up, hopping 
 backwards in front of him and saying: 
 
 " Please, mister, lemme light yer cigarette 
 for yer ! Please, mister, lemme light yer 
 cigarette for yer !" 
 
 The boy looked as if ready to dodge a 
 61
 
 A STUDY IN HEARTS 
 
 blow, but he persisted in his attentions, un- 
 til Van Buren, with a laugh, stooped and 
 took the match. As he did so, another and 
 daintier laugh fell upon his ear, and there 
 stood Jessica Drew beside him, the snow- 
 flakes standing out in crystals upon her vel- 
 vet and fur coat. 
 
 "You here!" he exclaimed, in delight. 
 " I was just going to run down to see you." 
 
 " Were you ? Well, I have saved you 
 the trouble, for I am here. I came up to 
 spend Christmas with Mrs. Stanley. She 
 goes to California on the 3d." 
 
 He turned to walk along with her, his 
 eyes devouring the lovely tints of her face 
 and hair, not noticing that the little news- 
 boy was still hopping along backwards in 
 front of them, smoking the cigarette he had 
 snatched ere it reached the sidewalk, his 
 shrewd blue eyes glued to their rapt faces. 
 
 Jessica was the first to see him. 
 
 " Why, look at the child !" she exclaimed. 
 " His shoes are so worn his feet are almost 
 upon the ground !" 
 
 " And to-morrer's Christmas, loidy," he 
 flashed, with the quickness of the gamin. 
 62
 
 A STUDY IN HEARTS 
 
 " So it is, my boy," said Van Buren. 
 " Take this and buy yourself some shoes." 
 
 " Not on yer life, mister. I'll take it home 
 to me mudder, if yer don't mind." 
 
 " The dear child," murmured Jessica. 
 
 " The little rascal," murmured Van Buren. 
 
 " Is it a trick ?" she whispered. 
 
 " Nearly everything is," he answered. 
 
 She bent over the boy and spoke to him. 
 
 "Mrs. Stanley's carriage is waiting for 
 me," she said. " There, I see it ! Can you 
 attract Summers's attention ? Thank you 
 so much." 
 
 " Shall you be at home this afternoon ? 
 No? To-morrow? May I come for an 
 hour on Christmas Day ?" 
 
 " Yes, do. We shall be so glad to see 
 you." 
 
 Something in Jessica's eyes went to his 
 heart. When he had seen her drive away, 
 Van Buren hailed a cab and collared the 
 newsboy. 
 
 " Come here, you young rascal !" he cried, 
 
 in an exuberance of joy which none of his 
 
 friends would have recognized. "Get in here 
 
 with your papers and your everlasting match- 
 
 63
 
 A STUDY IN HEARTS 
 
 es, and your tricks and your knowledge of 
 humanity, and let us make a call upon that 
 mother of yours ! I suppose she is sick ? No ? 
 She wants coal, doesn't she ? I thought so. 
 I suppose she has nine children, all smaller 
 than you ? No ? Only three ? How mod- 
 erate for a poor woman, who might have so 
 many more ! I suppose your father drinks ? 
 No ? Dead, is he ? I am surprised at him. 
 He ought to be alive and drinking. Are 
 you going to have a Christmas-tree to-mor- 
 row? No? How dare you lie to me like 
 that ! I say you are going to have one ! And 
 a Christmas-dinner besides, with turkey and 
 oysters and ice-cream, and I want you to 
 eat until you burst, do you hear me? Will 
 you promise to burst ?" 
 
 The boy roared out with delight. 
 
 " I suppose you are pleased, you young 
 imp, to think how you are taking me in. I 
 don't believe you have any mother or three 
 small sisters. I believe your mother is 
 wealthy and that your father belongs to 
 the Church. I know you are chuckling to 
 think what a snap you have ; but, do you 
 know, I don't in the least care whether you 
 64
 
 A STUDY IN HEARTS 
 
 are lying or not ? Do you know, I am bound 
 to give coal and a Christmas-tree and a 
 Christmas -dinner to somebody, and that 
 you are going to be that somebody? And 
 do you know why ?" 
 
 "It's all along of der loidy," said the 
 boy. 
 
 " Guessed it the first time," said Van 
 Buren. " Go up head. ' It's all along of 
 der loidy.' And if I ever do another thing 
 of this kind, which might well alarm my 
 friends for my sanity, it will be ' all along of 
 der loidy.' If I ever amount to anything 
 in this world, boy, or if I go to the devil, it 
 will be ' all along of der loidy.' " 
 
 " Here we are, sir." 
 
 " Lord, what a place !" cried Van Buren, 
 as he followed the boy into a dark doorway. 
 
 VII 
 
 On Christmas Day, too early in the morn- 
 ing for Ramsay Van Buren to dream of 
 meeting any of his friends, he again betook 
 himself to the same dark doorway, and 
 E 65
 
 A STUDY IN HEARTS 
 
 amid the clamoring of the three children, 
 whom the boy Tom had not lied about, he 
 began to set up the most astonishing of 
 Christmas-tcees. 
 
 " I don't exactly know what is the matter 
 with me, Mrs. O'Reilly, but I really feel as 
 if I could help you to order your Christ- 
 mas-dinner. I am very fond of cake with 
 my ice-cream. Have you any cake, Mrs. 
 O'Reilly ? No ? Then will you kindly step 
 around to the bakery and buy one, with a 
 great deal of icing on top, and and any- 
 thing else you may see, Mrs. O'Reilly. And 
 if you would be kind enough to take the 
 children with you and buy them some candy 
 buy them plenty, to make themselves ill, 
 Mrs. O'Reilly ; it will not be a successful 
 Christmas without getting ill it will save 
 the baby's having to eat those raw cranber- 
 ries, which she is now proceeding to do ; 
 besides giving me time to get these pres- 
 ents on the tree," he added to himself, as 
 the four went out, laughing and calling 
 down Irish blessings on his head. 
 
 "Where in the deuce shall I put these 
 things?" he said, helplessly, holding some 
 66
 
 A STUDY IN HEARTS 
 
 large red popcorn-balls up by a suspiciously 
 slender string. 
 
 A slight rustling in the doorway made 
 him say : 
 
 " I feel that I must have some help, Mrs. 
 O'Reilly" 
 
 " I am not Mrs. O'Reilly," said a voice, 
 " but" 
 
 He turned suddenly, and saw Jessica's 
 beautiful face over the top of her bundles. 
 
 "Jessica!" he exclaimed, dropping his 
 sticky burden and taking her bundles from 
 her, with a face so full of delight in her 
 presence that she colored beautifully, and 
 under his gaze the tears gathered in her 
 eyes. She looked up at him. 
 
 " Forgive me," she murmured. " I have 
 been so unjust to you." 
 
 He held out his arms to her. 
 
 " Will you love me if I forgive you ?" 
 
 " I love you now," she said, simply. " I 
 have loved you for a long time." 
 
 He drew in his breath sharply at the 
 
 royal simplicity of her admission. He had 
 
 expected to be obliged to use every art to 
 
 coax the assurance from her which her eyes 
 
 67
 
 A STUDY IN HEARTS 
 
 had given him the day before. He had ex- 
 pected Heaven only knows what he had 
 expected. 
 
 " You have loved me, Jessica ? Oh, why 
 didn't I know it ? You have made me so 
 unhappy, Jessica. Why didn't you tell 
 me ?" 
 
 " Why, how could I tell you ? You never 
 asked me. You never trusted me. I never 
 could be myself before you. You prevented 
 my coming here when I left you, for fear 
 you would think my charity but another 
 wile. I have hardly dared to be as good as 
 I wanted to be since I knew you !" 
 
 " Oh, Jessica, how charming you are ! 
 But how much time we have wasted !" 
 
 " We have not wasted a moment. We 
 never could have arrived at this stage if we 
 had not been looking at ourselves through 
 each other's eyes. Then, too, I never dared 
 let myself go after what I heard of poor 
 Polly Pope." 
 
 " ' Poor Polly Pope ' happens to be en- 
 gaged to an imbecile millionnaire just at 
 present. Did you believe that I was en- 
 gaged to her? I never was. She could 
 68
 
 A STUDY IN HEARTS 
 
 have stopped the talk in a moment if she 
 only would, /could say nothing." 
 
 " I knew you could explain it!" she cried. 
 " I felt that most positively when I saw you 
 yesterday." 
 
 " Was that why you looked at me when I 
 closed the carriage door ?" 
 
 " Did I look at you ?" murmured Jessica. 
 
 " Did you look at me ? I wonder if a 
 woman ever looks at a man like that with- 
 out being conscious of it ? So you have be- 
 lieved in me since yesterday ?" 
 
 " And that is longer than you have be- 
 lieved in me, by twenty-four hours." 
 
 " I told you yesterday when I saw you 
 that I had just decided to run down to 
 see you. Of course you knew what that 
 meant." 
 
 " It meant that you had determined to 
 allow yourself to love me in spite of all you 
 had heard in spite of everything. You 
 did not really believe in me until just now 
 until I told you that I " 
 
 "That you loved me! Oh, Jessica, dear 
 Jessica !" 
 
 " It's true ! That is what I told you. 
 69
 
 A STUDY IN HEARTS 
 
 How helpless a man is when he depends 
 on reason ! I hadfaitA in you." 
 
 " No, no, dear love. I was afraid of you, 
 that was all. I had heard so much about 
 poor Frank Fair and the others. All the 
 fellows who hadn't been in love with you 
 were just going to be. Everybody warned 
 me. I never dared hope that you could 
 care for me. I don't deserve you, Jessica. 
 I can only say that I have loved you from 
 the first time I ever saw you, more and 
 more every minute and every hour, until 
 even you, who have been loved by so many, 
 should be satisfied." 
 
 " Don't talk about the others," she mur- 
 mured. "They have made us trouble 
 enough. Think only that you love me and 
 that I love you !" 
 
 " I got onions, Misther Van Buren," cried 
 a voice on the stairs, " thinkin' you might 
 enjoy the taste of an onion this blessed 
 Christmas Day." 
 
 " Thank you, Mrs. O'Reilly, it isn't ex- 
 actly onions that my mind is fixed on to- 
 day. This is Miss Drew " 
 
 " Bless her dear face, she was here yes- 
 70
 
 A STUDY IN HEARTS 
 
 terday after you left ! I just know her to 
 be God's own angel." 
 
 " Indeed, Mrs. O'Reilly, you are a wo- 
 man of wonderful discernment. Where is 
 Tommy ?" 
 
 " Tommy is sick, sor, wid the candy." 
 
 " Good. I am glad to hear it. That 
 makes Christmas quite complete that, 
 and what has just happened to me. As 
 soon as you feel better, Tommy, eat some 
 more and get sick again. If you have to 
 have a doctor, I'll pay for him most cheer- 
 fully. I couldrrt invest my money better." 
 
 " Well, saints preserve us," said Mrs. 
 O'Reilly, when Jessica and Van Buren 
 were gone, " did you ever see such a free- 
 handed gintlemin ? Offering to pay the 
 doctor so handsome. What a pity one of 
 us couldn't be took sick to-day instead of 
 last week ! Ah, he is a foine man." 
 
 " It's all along of der loidy," said Tom- 
 my, uncoiling himself in his corner. 
 
 Mrs. O'Reilly hung out of her window. 
 
 " They come in two carriages," she said, 
 " but they wint away in wan."
 
 THE HEART OF BRIER ROSE
 
 THE HEART OF BRIER ROSE 
 
 THE Weeping Willow telegraph - office 
 faced the level prairie. Up and down be- 
 fore it, like shining ribbons, lay the rail- 
 road tracks, converging mysteriously until 
 distance blended them into one. Back of 
 it flared the wide main street, with stores 
 and cottages indiscriminately mingled, 
 which marks the disconsolate prairie town. 
 Beyond, enclosed by a white picket-fence, 
 straggled the desolate graveyard. Some 
 sorry-looking brutes, with down-hung heads 
 and burrs in their tails, were hitched in front 
 of the post-office. For the rest, there was 
 the vastness and lonely boundlessness of the 
 never-ending prairie. Mounted guard over 
 this living finger-post, quivered the remote 
 75
 
 THE HEART OF BRIER ROSE 
 
 sky, with its unblinking Cyclops eye. It 
 was a barren and meagre settlement of fam- 
 ilies from other states, casting their lots to- 
 gether to make a scanty whole, and fore- 
 casting their dreary life's end by naming 
 their village Weeping Willow. The only 
 thing in plenty which Nature supplied was 
 room. There was an abundance of space. 
 It was quite a walk to cross the street. 
 Neighbors' houses stood aloof. Nobody 
 was crowded, even in the graveyard. 
 
 The telegraph - operator, satiated with 
 landscape, leaned back, stretched himself 
 prodigiously, yawned audibly, and collapsed 
 in his chair, which creaked in vexed remon- 
 strance. He tossed a remark over his 
 shoulder. " So this is what you are yearnin' 
 fur, Dave ?" 
 
 Dave took his cane, and, limping to the 
 door, viewed the inertness in silence. Then 
 he roused himself, and said, cheerfully : 
 
 " A telegraph- operator is all I'm good fur 
 since I got hurt. Thankful enough I'll be 
 if I get the Red Valley job. . I'd like to be 
 so near to you, Joe." 
 
 " Seems like the comp'ny might have done 
 76
 
 THE HEART OF BRIER ROSE 
 
 more for you when you got smashed up in 
 their own accident. 'Twouldn't have hurt 
 'em none to keep you as conductor," grum- 
 bled his friend. 
 
 " How could a lame man be a con- 
 ductor?" returned Dave, with his unfailing 
 good-humor. 
 
 " A railroad company is a measly concern 
 on the pay act," observed Joe, gloomily. 
 
 Suddenly the afternoon stillness was 
 broken by excited voices, and the sharp 
 barking and yapping of dogs. Joe brought 
 his feet to the floor in a hurry. 
 
 " I can't leave the machine, Dave. Go 
 and see what the rumpus is about. I'll bet 
 Brier Rose is up to somethin'. It takes 
 that there girl to stir up the boys. No, 
 Foxy," he said to his terrier, who was whirl- 
 ing around in an ecstasy of anticipation, 
 "you stay here. If Brier Rose is at the 
 bottom of it, a little feller like you might 
 get lost in the shuffle." 
 
 Dave obediently limped up the street, 
 
 where, m the midst of a crowd of rough 
 
 men, stood a girl holding some little animal 
 
 high above her head, while the dogs leaped 
 
 77
 
 THE HEART OF BRIER ROSE 
 
 and snapped around her. The men were 
 laughing and keeping the dogs partly in 
 check. The girl, with scarlet cheeks, begged 
 and scolded and threatened them all, to 
 their infinite amusement. 
 
 " Call off your dawg, Jim !" she said, 
 fiercely, to the owner of the largest, whose 
 leaps sometimes almost reached the quiver- 
 ing little object in her hands. 
 
 " Throw down the beast an' I will," he 
 answered. 
 
 She turned her flashing eyes on him. "If 
 that there dawg gives another jump, I'll 
 pizen him before sun-up," she said, slowly. 
 
 Jim made a lunge for the dog, and sat on 
 him to keep him down, while the crowd 
 hooted in derision of his obedience. 
 
 " What's all this ?" cried Dave, coming up 
 and pushing his way through their midst. 
 
 " Brier Rose is bein' held up !" cried a 
 voice. 
 
 The crowd yelled with delight. The girl's 
 whole face became white with rage as she 
 singled out the speaker. 
 
 " You'll pay for that, Ben Miles, as you've 
 paid before," she said. 
 78
 
 THE HEART OF BRIER ROSE 
 
 Again they shouted at some recollection. 
 Even Brier Rose condescended to laugh, 
 angry as she was, and Ben subsided. 
 
 "Call off those brutes," cried Dave, rap- 
 ping the nearest dog with his cane. " For 
 shame, to tease a woman !" 
 
 " Look a-hyer, stranger," said a young 
 giant, menacingly. He towered above Dave, 
 who stood his ground. 
 
 " I'm lame, and no account in a fight," 
 said Dave, "but half a man ain't goin' to 
 see a woman tormented." 
 
 "Who in thunder " began his threat- 
 ener, but Ben Miles laid a hand on his arm. 
 
 " Hold on, Jim," he said ; " that there's 
 Dave Comstock, conductor of the smashed- 
 up No. 7." 
 
 " Not the feller that got hurt savin' the 
 baby?" 
 
 " The same." 
 
 " Sho, stranger !" said the mollified Jim. 
 "You're welcome to interfere. Give us yer 
 hand. We wouldn't hurt her fur nothin'. 
 Bless my stars ! Brier Rose can take care of 
 herself better'n most men." 
 
 " You see, it's seldom we git a chance to 
 79
 
 THE HEART OF BRIER ROSE 
 
 git even," explained Ben Miles, as the men 
 closed around Dave to shake hands. 
 
 " Get even fur what?" 
 
 " Fur what ? Lord, stranger, you must 
 come from parts unknown ! Fur everything ! 
 Ther' ain't a man in Weepin' Wilier but 
 what's been sassed by Brier Rose. Sassed ? 
 Lord ! I should say so. But we wouldn't 
 hurt her none. Stranger, lemme give you 
 an advise : don't you worry none about Brier 
 Rose !" 
 
 The crowd roared. The dogs were all 
 held now, and the girl put her tired arms 
 down. She looked curiously at this man, 
 whose brave story she knew by heart, as she 
 heard him defend her. To be sure, she had 
 been defended before ; there was hardly a 
 man who would not have risked his life to 
 save hers, but they teased her unmercifully 
 whenever they got the chance. Dave's in- 
 terference was on a new line. She did not 
 quite understand it, but it appealed to her at 
 once. She wrapped her apron around the 
 little animal, and with a new sensation 
 stirring at her heart Brier Rose slipped 
 away. 
 
 80
 
 THE HEART OF BRIER ROSE 
 
 When Dave went back to the station to 
 tell Joe, the latter roared with delight. 
 
 "Just like her! Edzackly like her!" he 
 cried, slapping his leg so inhumanly that 
 his lame friend winced for him. 
 
 " Who is Brier Rose ?" he repeated, in an- 
 swer to Dave's question. " You don't know 
 much if you don't know old Bryan's daugh- 
 ter. She's the best-known girl from Horse- 
 shoe Gap to Powder Crik. Old Bryan's been 
 engineer on the road ever since the track 
 was laid. There's them that can remember 
 his takin' the child with him on the engine 
 when she was a little mite of a thing. All 
 eyes she was then, as she is now. What 
 wasn't eyes was temper. Same now, savin 
 that now she bosses the boys in addition to 
 old Bryan. She can run an engine with the 
 best of 'em. Bryan's taught her all the 
 tricks, and he thinks the sun rises and sets 
 for just her. Sharp as chain -lightnin', is 
 Brier Rose, an' prickly as a cactus. All the 
 boys been touched in the head about her at 
 one time or another, but she sasses the hull 
 of 'em. It's my belief that she'll wipe the 
 earth with Ben Miles for that there ' Brier 
 F 81
 
 THE HEART OF BRIER ROSE 
 
 Rose is bein' held up.' He'll wisht he was 
 dead before she gits through with him. You 
 hear me !" And Joe's noisy mirth made the 
 windows rattle. 
 
 " Strange she would defend a gopher, 
 when she's so hard on the boys," observed 
 Dave. 
 
 "That's just it! That's Brier Rose! 
 She's got more tame pets ! She's friendlier 
 with every beast in Weepin' Wilier than 
 with any of the boys. She's just that 
 curious. She ain't even got a head fur any- 
 body but old Bryan you notice I make no 
 mention of heart concernin' Brier Rose ; I 
 don't keer to talk of what she ain't got 
 and just now she's specially bewitched about 
 him. After keepin' straight for forty years, 
 he's taken to drink. The girl knows he'll 
 lose his job if the company gets wind of it, 
 and she watches him like a hawk. Many's 
 the time she's made his night run with him, 
 for fear he'd lose his head. It's only at 
 times he goes on a tear, and she knows the 
 signs. Brier Rose is proud as Lucy Fire, 
 and knows how to keep her mouth shut 
 (which the same I can't say for most women ; 
 82
 
 THE HEART OF BRIER ROSE 
 
 wisht I could) ; but we all know about it, 
 and look out for her." 
 
 " What's Bryan's run ?" 
 
 " Horseshoe to Powder Crik. She knows 
 every inch of track and siding. And I 
 wisht you could see her handle the critter. 
 She knows all Bryan does, and she's a heap 
 sight quicker calc'latin' than the old man. 
 She can tell about how fast any train's goin' 
 if it just runs by her, or if she's on it either 
 one. It's wuth while to see her oil and 
 clean the machine. She goes over it spry 
 as a kitten." 
 
 " She's handsome," said Dave, simply. 
 
 " Humph ! Handsome is as handsome 
 does," observed Joe, grumpily. " She's cold 
 as ice and hard as a rock. It's my belief that 
 she 'ain't got no heart same as other wimmin. 
 And as to love! Whew! Standoff! There's 
 a touch-me-not for you ! And sassy? Lord!" 
 
 "All the boys been touched in the head 
 about her, I believe you said," remarked 
 Dave, mischievously. 
 
 Joe hitched at his left suspender uncom- 
 fortably and slowly reddened. "Nigh about 
 nigh about," he said, hastily. 
 83
 
 THE HEART OF BRIER ROSE 
 
 Dave looked down the glistening tracks, 
 which seemed to stretch imploringly into 
 the future. " I hope I'll get the Red Val- 
 ley job," he said, abruptly. 
 
 In spite of what he had heard or, per- 
 haps, because of what he had heard, for who 
 has language subtle enough to follow the in- 
 tricate pathway of a human soul? all things, 
 even the melancholy town itself, grew rose- 
 colored to Dave's sunny eyes. With his 
 usual unfailing cheerfulness, he waited 
 hopefully for news of his appointment at 
 Red Valley, and hovered, as if fascinated, 
 around engine Forty-four. 
 
 Neither the boys nor old Bryan were 
 slow to notice this, the latter having accept- 
 ed such attentions periodically from all the 
 young men. It was so inevitable a proceed- 
 ing that, up to the time of the Middleton's 
 dance, they paid no attention to it. But 
 that night something extraordinary hap- 
 pened. 
 
 The next day, as Brier Rose rode down 
 the street on her hardy Texas pony, the 
 boys gathered around her eagerly, notwith- 
 standing the fact that she had a stout little 
 84
 
 THE HEART OF BRIER ROSE 
 
 whip in her hand. They had something 
 new and strange to tease her about. 
 
 " Brier Rose," called out Jim, as she drew 
 rein, "you don't care nothin' about dancin', 
 do you ?" 
 
 "You'd ruther set all the evenin', wouldn't 
 you, now ?" 
 
 " D'you like the name o' Dave, or do you 
 reckon you'd ruther have Comstock?" 
 
 Rose looked from one to the other as the 
 bottled-up taunts fell rapidly upon her ears, 
 her cheeks and lips growing scarlet. For 
 once her ready tongue failed her. Small 
 need to ask them what they meant. Too 
 well she knew. But was her subjugation 
 apparent in such a trifle ? And so soon ? 
 And Dave, as yet, had said nothing. Oh, 
 shame! shame ! Her eyes smouldered dan- 
 gerously, yet with all her gathering fury 
 there was an odd fluttering in her white 
 throat and a cruel pain at her heart. Em- 
 boldened by her silence, they went further. 
 
 " What does he say about it ?" 
 
 She thought she detected the mockery of 
 the question, being all unaware of Dave's 
 interest in the Forty-four. The shamed 
 85
 
 THE HEART OF BRIER ROSE 
 
 crimson leaped to her very temples and 
 receded, leaving her face pitifully white. 
 The boys must know that poor Brier Rose 
 was ready to be plucked before she was 
 sought, or they would not dare to speak of 
 it ! Her wounded pride now panted for but 
 one thing a way out. She saw him coming 
 down the street. 
 
 " Do you love him ? Say, Brier Rose, do 
 you love Dave ?" cried the one farthest from 
 her whip. 
 
 Her courage came back at Dave's ap- 
 proach, and the spell of her unwonted si- 
 lence was broken. She laughed scornfully 
 as she saw that he had heard the question 
 and had involuntarily paused for her reply. 
 
 " Do I love him ?" she cried, looking him 
 fairly in the face. " I come nearer to hatin' 
 him !" 
 
 She turned her horse sharply, and the 
 blows the boys had expected fell on her fiery 
 little Texan. He craned his neck and went 
 up the street on a dead run ; but fast as 
 Rose flew, the grieved look in Dave Com- 
 stock's blue eyes kept pace with her. 
 
 86
 
 THE HEART OF BRIER ROSE 
 
 That night Joe fidgeted around, unable 
 to decide whether or not he should speak to 
 Dave about the occurrence of the afternoon. 
 Dave's genial smile and cheery hopefulness 
 were gone. He sat with his face buried in 
 his folded arms. 
 
 Joe drove his hands deep into his pockets, 
 and strode up and down the room stormily. 
 Finally he burst out with : 
 
 " Dave, don't mind it, old feller. I told 
 you she hadn't a heart for a man ; she 
 wastes it all on dumb brutes. She ain't 
 worth grievin' after. I'm sorry you ever 
 saw her. You're not ? Well, of course, if 
 you feel that-a-way, I've nothin' more to say. 
 Only, Dave, my boy, you're too good for 
 her." 
 
 " No, no, Joe, don't say that. We're none 
 of us good enough for a woman when it 
 comes to that. I don't blame her. Of 
 course I'm lame, and you can't expect a 
 woman to love a lame man when there are 
 so many others, can you, Joe ?" 
 
 Joe coughed noisily, but said nothing. 
 Dave looked down at his poor, maimed 
 foot. 
 
 87
 
 THE HEART OF BRIER ROSE 
 
 " Joe, do you know that little baby I saved 
 from the wreck had brown eyes like Brier 
 Rose ? I remember the baby smiled when 
 I held it out to the men. You know my 
 foot was caught and I couldn't move. I've 
 never seen Brier Rose smile at me that way. 
 If I had saved her, perhaps she would. Do 
 you think so, Joe ?" 
 
 ***** 
 
 At home, Rose was thinking of the story 
 of Dave's bravery in the wrecked train, of 
 the lives he had saved, of his defence of 
 her. And to-day, in return, she had mocked 
 him. Ay, if the look he gave her spoke truly, 
 she had cut him to the heart. Tears tears 
 in the eyes of Brier Rose ! 
 
 II 
 
 The position of telegraph-operator at Red 
 Valley was given to Dave Comstock. The 
 afternoon freight, heavily loaded, had just 
 pulled clumsily out of the Weeping Willow 
 station, with Dave on the rear platform of the 
 way-car. Joe waved his hat to him from the 
 88
 
 THE HEART OF BRIER ROSE 
 
 window, and Brier Rose, from the cab of 
 the Forty -four, looked wistfully after him, 
 and shook her shining hair over her eyes to 
 hide their dimness. 
 
 The Forty-four, having come down on the 
 rear of the freight as second engine, now 
 stood on the siding, waiting to go back to 
 Horseshoe for the midnight express. Old 
 Bryan was up in a crowd of men in front of 
 the post-office. Brier Rose watched him anx- 
 iously. As long as he kept away from The 
 Owl she felt easy. He knew she was watch- 
 ing him. He also knew that she would not 
 hesitate to come after him if The Owl proved 
 too strong an attraction. Therefore he kept 
 away. 
 
 Joe stood in the doorway, and admired 
 Brier Rose against his will. He still was 
 sore at heart over his friend, and fear of 
 getting the worst of it alone prevented him 
 from giving that girl a piece of his mind. 
 
 She trod fearlessly along the side of the 
 boiler, rubbing the hand-rail with a black, 
 oil-sodden cloth. She touched the engine 
 as if she loved it. Every part of it shone 
 like the sun. Her long-pointed oil-can had 
 89
 
 THE HEART OF BRIER ROSE 
 
 done its work. Every valve worked with 
 precision. Each screw was secure. Joe 
 laughed to see her fling a shovelful of coal 
 into the furnace like a born fireman. 
 
 His own machine called his attention from 
 the Forty-four. Then Rose heard him cry 
 out, and, springing down, she rushed into 
 the station. 
 
 " A runaway engine coming this way !" 
 he said, hoarsely. " Spite work of a dis- 
 charged engineer. No one on her going 
 twenty-five miles an hour a single track 
 Dave's train only going fifteen the Forty- 
 four and that ore-car on the only siding be- 
 tween here and Red Valley. My God !" 
 
 " Where is it ?" cried Brier Rose. 
 
 "It broke away from Horseshoe Gap. 
 Message is from Prairie City. It's already 
 passed Prairie City, headed straight for 
 here. It's bound to catch Dave before his 
 train gets to Red Valley." 
 
 Rose turned white to her very lips. She 
 covered her face with her brown hands. 
 Only for a moment, though. Then she flung 
 back her head, and looked Joe full in the 
 face. 
 
 90
 
 THE HEART OF BRIER ROSE 
 
 " I can save him !" she cried. She sprang 
 for her engine and climbed into the cab. 
 
 " Rose ! Rose !" roared Joe, in dismay. 
 
 Rose turned her white face towards him 
 imploringly. " Be at the switch, Joe, and 
 listen for my signals, as you value Dave's 
 life !" she cried. Then she pulled the throttle- 
 valve out to its full extent. The engine 
 shivered all over ; and, at fifty miles an 
 hour, the Forty-four, driven by Brier Rose, 
 leaped down the track to meet the run- 
 away. 
 
 There was not a moment to lose. A cer- 
 tain number of miles, lessening every mo- 
 ment, lay between the lumbering freight 
 with Dave on board, and the cruel, sense- 
 less, runaway engine. Between them was 
 Brier Rose, with just a chance of safety. 
 
 Feverishly she examined the familiar ma- 
 chinery. Eagerly she scanned the track for 
 signs of the runaway. She knew that a 
 loosened rail or any obstruction would hurl 
 her to her doom, and still not avert disaster 
 from Dave. The whistle of the Forty-four 
 shrilled out an unearthly screech continu- 
 ally, to warn even the birds from fluttering 
 9 1
 
 THE HEART OF BRIER ROSE 
 
 too near the messenger of life. The prai- 
 rie-dogs scuttled into their holes in fear. 
 The telegraph-wires intoned. The bending 
 sky took on a new meaning to her. The 
 engine rocked from side to side at the dizzy 
 rate of speed. For the first time the odor 
 of hot oil made Rose feel faint. She hung 
 half out of the cab -window, panting for 
 breath, with her hands clinging crazily to 
 the window for support. 
 
 Suddenly she saw smoke in the distance. 
 Larger and larger grew the black speck on 
 the track. Faster and faster flew the Forty- 
 four to meet it. Nearer and nearer came 
 the runaway. When she could plainly see 
 the shape of the approaching engine, she 
 closed the throttle with a rush which made 
 the Forty-four tremble. She reversed her 
 engine, and, at little less than twenty- five 
 miles an hour, began running away from 
 the runaway. 
 
 Slowly, almost imperceptibly, it gained 
 on her brave engine. A horrible fear took 
 possession of her that it was too slowly, 
 and that they both would reach Dave's 
 train before she stopped the runaway. She 
 92
 
 THE HEART OF BRIER ROSE 
 
 changed the speed, and let the engine gain 
 on her faster. 
 
 " I can signal for the siding, if I fail," 
 thought Brier Rose. "Joe will obey my 
 signal." But she shuddered. 
 
 Mile after mile they traversed in the di- 
 rection of Weeping Willow and Red Val- 
 ley. 
 
 In sight of Weeping Willow at last ! 
 The Forty -four whistled frantically. Rose 
 signalled for a clear track, and only a 
 train-length apart the Forty -four and the 
 runaway flew past the little station plat- 
 form, crowded with every man, woman, 
 and. child in town, who cheered the fly- 
 ing engine and the white -faced girl like 
 mad. 
 
 Joe understood her plan now. He bound- 
 ed into the station, frenzied with excitement, 
 and telegraphed to Red Valley what Brier 
 Rose was doing ; then, from sheer nervous- 
 ness, he squeezed Foxy until he yelped 
 wildly. 
 
 Out of sight of Weeping Willow, and 
 Dave's train in the distance ! Nearer and 
 nearer came the runaway. The Forty-four 
 93
 
 THE HEART OF BRIER ROSE 
 
 snorted in defiance of being caught. Rose 
 braced herself for the shock. Crash ! came 
 the pilot of the runaway into the unpro- 
 tected rear of the gallant Forty-four. They 
 separated with the shock, and bounded 
 together again ; but this time Rose had 
 loosened her hold, and the concussion flung 
 her to the floor, with her soft cheek against 
 the cab seat. 
 
 Faint from her fall, she gathered herself 
 together and shut off the steam. Then, with 
 the nose of the runaway viciously pushing 
 the Forty-four, Brier Rose crept like a cat 
 over the tender, down over the trembling 
 engine, and on her hands and knees. she 
 crawled over to the runaway, up along the 
 boiler side, into the cab, and crashed the 
 throttle shut when the Forty-four was within 
 a car's-length of Dave's train. She had only 
 strength enough to get her hand on the 
 whistle, hear its shrill call, when, woman- 
 like, she fainted. 
 
 When she came to herself she was in the 
 Red Valley station. Dave was bending 
 over her, and calling her name with trem- 
 94
 
 THE HEART OF BRIER ROSE 
 
 bling lips. She opened her eyes and smiled 
 into his face. 
 
 " Oh, Brier Rose, how could you do it ?" 
 he whispered, with a shudder. 
 
 "I did it for you, David for you!"
 
 LIZZIE LEE'S SEPARATION
 
 LIZZIE LEE'S SEPARATION 
 
 " IT all comes of so much marryin'," said 
 Aunt Dony Tuggle, pulling her spectacles 
 down from the crown of her head, where 
 they had been winking at the fire, to set 
 the heel in the gray sock she was knitting. 
 " Some folks just seem possessed to marry." 
 
 "And then they ain't satisfied not half 
 of them," supplemented Aunt Mary Battle, 
 looking around pugnaciously, as if daring 
 anybody to prove the contrary. 
 
 At these discouraging statements, Cousin 
 Mary Lou, the only one in the assemblage 
 who contemplated a further outrage in that 
 direction, shook her head at the strange 
 Cousin Sara, and laid a slim forefinger on 
 her lip. 
 
 " Still, in this case, I shouldn't say that 
 marryin' was to blame," ventured Aunt Em- 
 99
 
 LIZZIE LEE'S SEPARATION 
 
 meline Tally, timidly. " Plenty of folks 
 marry and live peaceable." 
 
 "/ should say that the trouble was with 
 Lizzie Lee herself," burst out Aunt Mary 
 Battle, wrathfully. " If she couldn't marry 
 into the best family in the State of Missis- 
 sippi, and be too proud of doin' it to bring 
 trouble, she'd better have stayed out of it. 
 That's what / say. But she always was a 
 headstrong, con-tra-ry little minx." 
 
 The six rocking-chairs came to a stand- 
 still as if by common consent. The shocked 
 silence made itself felt, even upon Aunt 
 Mary. 
 
 "I don't think," said Couin Sophie 
 Moore, gently, but with increasing color, 
 "that I ever heard any one in our family 
 called such a name befo'. 
 
 " I believe in callin' a spade a spade," 
 snapped Aunt Mary, "and not 'a sweet lit- 
 tle shovel,' specially when it is a spade, 
 and not entirely free from garden mould, 
 either!" 
 
 She was surprised and hurt to find the 
 family dissenting from her. " Besides," she 
 added, significantly, " Lizzie Lee was a Mur-
 
 LIZZIE LEE'S SEPARATION 
 
 chison, and we all know what the Murchi- 
 sons are." 
 
 "She married^. Mo' !" said Cousin Sophie. 
 
 That settled it. Aunt Mary said no more, 
 but she shook her head several times, and 
 ordered black Anna Potts to go tell her 
 mother to tell Lucius to tell Amos to bring 
 a back -log, in a voice which made Anna 
 skip. 
 
 "The family never had a breath of scan- 
 dal breathed on it befo','' said Aunt Emme- 
 line Tally. " It has somehow seemed to 
 me, and I reckon this is a judgment on me 
 for it, but it has appeared that our family 
 was kind of sacred blessed of the Lord, I 
 mean, Sist' Mary. The childern have all 
 been strong and healthy, have been tol'ble 
 good growin' up, and have made sensible 
 marriages with families as good as ours." 
 
 " Nearly as good," assented Cousin So- 
 phie. 
 
 Aunt Dony Tuggle took up the thread of 
 the narrative. 
 
 " Then when Cuthbert Mo' married Liz- 
 zie Lee Murchison, we all said that while 
 the Murchisons befo' the war never amount- 
 101
 
 LIZZIE LEE'S SEPARATION 
 
 ed to much, still there was a Judge Murchi- 
 son 'way back on her father's side, and it 
 wouldn't have made any difference what we 
 said, because Cuthbert would have her, and 
 nobody would do him but Lizzie Lee. Our 
 sayin' she was powerful con-/ra-ry didn't 
 bother him any. He must have her, and 
 he got her." 
 
 Aunt Dony, being large and comfortable 
 herself, laughed largely and comfortably. 
 
 " He took her over the heads of half the 
 county, too," added Aunt Emtneline, with 
 dainty, faded pride. 
 
 The younger cousins, not daring to inter- 
 rupt this serious conversation, Mary Lou 
 leaned over and asked Sara in pantomime 
 if she should hemstitch that ruffle ; Sara 
 nodded. 
 
 " We said all we could to keep him from 
 it," went on Aunt Dony, amiably, rehearsing 
 the story to get as much good out of it as 
 possible, " and tried to make him see that 
 con-/Avz-ry women don't make good wives. 
 Then we took to her, havin' married a Mo', 
 and visited her and treated her just like we 
 do our own kin. And wasn't she the sweet-
 
 LIZZIE LEE'S SEPARATION 
 
 est, prettiest little bride, with those cheeks 
 of hers as red as a rose, and eyes as big as 
 that !" Aunt Dony put her thumb and fore- 
 finger together, making a circle something 
 the size of a silver dollar. 
 
 " But now," burst forth Aunt Mary Battle 
 again, " here she ups and says that she 
 can't live with Cuthbert, and she won't live 
 with him, and she's left him. That's what 
 she's done. She's left him. And he a Mo'!" 
 
 " Mist' Tally says Cuthbert feels powerful 
 bad," said Aunt Emmeline. " He won't 
 eat nor sleep, but just grieves after Lizzie 
 Lee all the time, like she was dead." 
 
 "Oh, Sist' Emmeline!" remonstrated Aunt 
 Dony, who kept unwholesome thoughts well 
 away from herself. 
 
 " That's what Mist' Tally said," reiterated 
 Aunt Emmeline. 
 
 " Oh, but that's a dreadful thing to say /" 
 
 " Mist' Tally said so," insisted Aunt Em- 
 meline, with the gentle stubbornness of a 
 negative nature. 
 
 " If I could just see Lizzie Lee," said 
 Cousin Sophie, mournfully. 
 
 "I hope he won't come here!" cried Aunt 
 103
 
 LIZZIE LEE'S SEPARATION 
 
 Mary. " I couldn't treat her decently. You 
 Anna, did you tell Amos to bring that back- 
 log?" 
 
 "Yas'm. An' he done say he'd breng it 
 jes' soon as he hep feed de calves." 
 
 " It's too bad of Lizzie Lee." Aunt Dony 
 rocked and knitted and went on placidly 
 with what she had to say. " She ought to 
 have had mo' patience with him. Cuthbert 
 admits that he was wearin'. But, laws! 
 sister, most men are !" 
 
 All five of the rocking-chairs assented to 
 this. 
 
 " You didn't hear any reason given for her 
 leavin' him, Sist' Mary?" 
 
 " No, it came on me like a clap of thunder, 
 right in church. Miz. Haney wrote it on 
 her hymn-book, just above ' I've a message 
 from the Lord, Hallelujah !' And it gave me 
 such a turn that when we stood up I came 
 mighty near singin', ' Did you know that 
 Lizzie Lee had left her husband ?' Those 
 words just danced befo' my eyes." 
 
 " If Miz. Haney hadn't told it to anybody 
 but you, I reckon folks needn't have known 
 about it yet awhile," sighed Aunt Emmeline. 
 104
 
 LIZZIE LEE'S SEPARATION 
 
 Aunt Mary looked uneasy, for she was the 
 greatest talker in the county. The others 
 glanced at her dubiously. 
 
 "It was "Lizzie. Lee's turn to sit up with 
 little Mattie Haney Sadday night, and no- 
 body would have thought strange of her 
 stayin' to let Miz. Haney come to preachin'." 
 
 No one said anything in reply. Out on 
 the side -porch they could hear the jerky 
 revolutions of the barrel-churn, as black 
 Alice Potts endeavored to earn her right to 
 wait on the table for company by bringing 
 butter under two hours. Her voice, clear 
 and sweet, rose high over the dull pounding 
 of the churn, as she sang : 
 
 ' ' ' Rained forty days and forty nights, 
 An' washed dem sinners out of sight. 
 See dem sinners svvimmin' aroun' 
 An' cryin' to Noah befo' dey drown. 
 Good Lawd done been here, 
 An' bless my soul an' gone !' " 
 
 They all listened absently, and the last 
 of the fire-logs fell apart in a shower of 
 sparks, leaving only a glowing bed of coals. 
 
 " Well, I'll never believe that it was Cuth- 
 bert's fault," sighed Aunt Emmeline.
 
 LIZZIE LEE'S SEPARATION 
 
 A little noise on the side-porch made 
 Cousin Sophie say : 
 
 " I reckon that's Amos now." But when 
 the door opened it opened to admit, not 
 Amos, but the subject of all this discus- 
 sion, Lizzie Lee Moore. 
 
 They all looked at her with eager curiosi- 
 ty, the little, round, soft beauty, who had set 
 the county by the ears with her great brown 
 eyes and the delicate pink of her peachy 
 cheeks. 
 
 She looked around at the gathered rela- 
 tives shyly, knowing that they had come to 
 talk her over and to condemn her all his 
 relatives, not one of hers. Through the 
 open door behind her the blue sky above 
 the horizon made a light background, against 
 which her slim figure looked singularly child- 
 ish and helpless. 
 
 She stood with one hand still on the door- 
 knob, not as if uncertain whether to enter, 
 but as if seeking to know from their faces 
 which of them had condemned her unheard. 
 And in the embarrassed silence they all 
 felt somewhat guilty. 
 
 If she had been less pretty, it would have 
 1 06
 
 LIZZIE LEE'S SEPARATION 
 
 seemed brazen in her to come. As it was, 
 her childishness made it appear brave. 
 
 Cousin Sophie was the first to recover 
 herself, and to remember that a guest stood 
 on her door-step, waiting to be welcomed. 
 From the time she took Lizzie Lee's hand 
 in hers and felt it tremble, the best in the 
 house was at the disposal, for as long as 
 she chose to remain, of the girl who had left 
 her husband one of their family, too and 
 she a Murchison. 
 
 " You all are mighty kind," said Lizzie 
 Lee, from the depths of Aunt Mary Battle's 
 rocking-chair, where she had been forcibly 
 placed by that remorseful lady, while she went 
 to take it out on Amos about the back-log. 
 
 The December sun streamed in warmly, 
 and the holly bushes tapped their prickly 
 leaves against the window-panes in sharp 
 remonstrance, as if to say, "There are two 
 sides to this question." 
 
 "Mighty kind," reiterated Cuthbert 
 Moore's wife. "I I didn't expect it 
 hardly." 
 
 Aunt Mary appeared at the door, push- 
 ing Amos before her. 
 
 107
 
 LIZZIE LEE'S SEPARATION 
 
 "Just look at that fire! Ain't you 
 ashamed of yourself to let the fire go plumb 
 out with Miss Sara here visiting your Miss 
 Sophie, and our sweet Miss Lizzie Lee 
 come in from a long ride, and cold as ice 
 from head to foot. Then here you come 
 with a little bitty back -log that would do 
 for kincllin', tryin' to warm up these pretty 
 young ladies with chips. Go on out of here 
 and bring a back -log now that will bend 
 you double. You hear ?" 
 
 And as the grinning, shuffling boy sham- 
 bled out, Aunt Mary sat down, having re- 
 lieved her conscience and regulated Cousin 
 Sophie's household at one fell swoop. 
 
 The big plantation -bell, which hung, 
 poised like a great black bird of prey, from 
 the top of a dead tree back of the house, 
 began to clang forth its summons for the 
 field -hands, and Cousin Lisle Moore, So- 
 phie's husband, drawn thither by news from 
 the swarming coloreds about the place that 
 "Miss Lizzie Lee done come to dinner," 
 came in, and greeted his guest with evident 
 concern. It was plain to be seen that he 
 did not know which way the tide of condem- 
 108
 
 LIZZIE LEE'S SEPARATION 
 
 nation flowed, and that he was not going to 
 commit himself. 
 
 The silence was beginning to be a little 
 awkward, when he suddenly burst out with 
 a subject which he felt to be safe. 
 
 " Cousin Sara, I'm sorry to say that old 
 Isrul can't preach Sunday. Cousin Sara 
 said she was dyin' to hear a colored preacher* 
 Miss Lizzie Lee, and I wanted her to hear 
 Isrul. You know old Isrul Potts, the grand- 
 father of all these black apes around hyer." 
 The three children crouching around the 
 fire, seeing themselves glanced at, ducked 
 their heads and dived behind chairs, whence 
 they were all rapped out again by thimbles 
 on their woolly heads. " You know, wife, 
 what a great interpreter of the Scrip- 
 tures Isrul is. He studies about it all the 
 time, and he does get some of the most ow- 
 dacious meanings from old texts you ever did 
 hyer. But they won't let him preach any 
 mo'. I'm surprised to hyer it, but they 
 won't. I'm sorry about that, too, for I did 
 want Cousin Sara to hyer him." 
 
 " Why not, Cousin Lisle ?" 
 
 He was looking into the fire and smiling 
 109
 
 LIZZIE LEE'S SEPARATION 
 
 to himself, evidently having forgotten about 
 everything except old Israel. 
 
 " Well, he and his wife, that Sallie, quar'l 
 all the time, and now they've separated. Say 
 they never will live together again, and the 
 scandal " Cousin Sophie brought her foot 
 down on his just here, and then he realized. 
 " What's the manner with your fire, wife ? 
 Why don't you keep these lazy, loafing 
 blacks at work ? You Lelia ! You Anna ! 
 Get out of hyer and bring some wood. 
 Amos, you were sent for that back-log three 
 days ago. I'll have you shot at sun-down. 
 You hyer me ? You've got about fo' hours 
 to live. Get off that cat's tail, suh ! Can't 
 you find any other place to put those big 
 feet of yours except plumb on the cat's tail ? 
 Hyer, wife! Hold Tabby till this black 
 piece of awkwardness gets the fire made. 
 Not there, Amos ! Why don't you put it 
 on the piano and be done with it ? Gimme 
 that log and get out. Start running now, 
 and don't stop till you get to Tuggle's 
 branch. Fall into it, if you want to. Gimme 
 those little sticks, Anna. Now put yours 
 on, Lelia. Shut that door, Lucius, and take 
 no
 
 LIZZIE LEE'S SEPARATION 
 
 Amos's hat out to him. Anna, you go rest 
 Alice at the churn. Lelia, go tell your 
 mother to hurry up dinner. Miss Sara's 
 about starved to death. Wife, I must feed 
 those calves." 
 
 Mary Lou and Sara nudged each other 
 delightedly, for, after scattering the black 
 children like autumn leaves in a high wind, 
 Cousin Lisle bolted, with his face as red as 
 fire. He was a shy man, and anything em- 
 barrassing always sent him, no matter what 
 the hour, to "feed the calves." 
 
 " He never goes near them," whispered 
 Mary Lou. 
 
 Lizzie Lee had glanced around at her in 
 a startled way at his unfortunate remark. 
 The rocking-chairs swayed nervously back 
 and forth, no two in unison. The effect 
 upon the observer was that of a choppy sea. 
 
 After he had gone they all began to talk 
 rather incoherently at once. But Lizzie 
 Lee interrupted them. She leaned her trim 
 figure forward from the cavernous depths of 
 the great chair, and said : 
 
 " I reckon you all feel mighty bad to hear 
 that Mist' Mo' and I have had a fallin' out."
 
 LIZZIE LEE'S SEPARATION 
 
 Her voice trembled a little, and it made 
 them entirely forget that it must have been 
 Lizzie Lee's fault, for nobody ever had 
 quarrelled with Cuthbert before the great, 
 smiling, easy-going young giant, who wor- 
 shipped the ground his wife's little feet trod 
 upon, and whose only fault lay in " spoilin' 
 her to death with his foolishness over her." 
 
 " I want to tell you all about it. That's 
 what I came for. Not that I ever mean to 
 go back to him. It's gone too far for that. 
 Words have been spoken that I can't forget. 
 But just so that you won't blame me." 
 Aunt Mary Battle coughed ominously. "I 
 can't bear to be blamed," said Lizzie Lee, 
 piteously. Aunt Mary patted her hand re- 
 assuringly. 
 
 " I don't know exactly how it began this 
 time, but ever since we have been married 
 Mist' Mo' has been queer about one thing. 
 Whenever he has wanted me to do a thing, 
 he always begins by beggin' me to do just 
 the opposite, as if I was the con-/r-riest 
 thing that ever lived. And when I found 
 that out, it nachally riled me up just same 
 as it would anybody, Cousin Sophie. You 
 112
 
 LIZZIE LEE'S SEPARATION 
 
 know if Cousin Lisle wanted you to stay at 
 home from preachin', you'd hate to have 
 him get you to do it by beggin' you to go, 
 now wouldn't you ?" 
 
 " Yes, honey, I would." 
 
 " Well, whenever my will goes one way 
 and his goes another, which I must admit 
 is pretty often, he gets up and says, ' Well, 
 I was warned of this, and I wouldn't be- 
 lieve it, but I see it's true.' He won't 
 tell me what he was warned about, or who 
 warned him, and I can't find out. I can't 
 ask other people, can I ?" 
 
 Six rocking-chairs began to rock very rap- 
 idly, and Aunt Dony ravelled out half her 
 knitting without knowing it. Mary Lou laid 
 down her hemstitching and looked atten- 
 tively at little Lizzie Lee, as if to learn 
 some of the mysteries of this wonderful 
 married state, which Sara alone was aware 
 that she contemplated entering. 
 
 " I can't bear to ask questions of people 
 who don't love Mist' Mo', because it looks 
 like I didn't trust him, and it reflects on 
 his dignity. That's why I came to you all, 
 because you are his kin, and you love him 
 H 113
 
 LIZZIE LEE'S SEPARATION 
 
 you couldn't help it and if I went home 
 Sist' Katy and all would tell me that if I 
 had taken Nelson Ames, or Totten King, 
 or some of the other boys who waited on 
 me, this wouldn't have happened." 
 
 The entire relationship stopped breathing 
 at this ; but Lizzie Lee continued : 
 
 " But Saturday morning it all came to an 
 end. I hope I didn't do wrong. I wouldn't 
 hurt him for the whole world. I I've al- 
 ways cared too much for him." 
 
 The relatives began to exchange uneasy 
 glances. They had been blaming her for 
 not appreciating one of their family, but 
 this scarcely looked like it. 
 
 " I hardly know how it began this time. 
 I've tried ever so hard, but these two days 
 seem like a week to me. It was Saturday 
 morning when we began to talk. I believe 
 it was about religion. You know I'm a 
 Babtist and all the Mo's are Methodists; 
 and while I freely admit to you all that I 
 don't keep my temper very well, Mist' Mo' 
 is aggravating and when I get real mad 
 with him, he just laughs at me and tries to 
 get me good-humored again by teasin' me. 
 114
 
 LIZZIE LEE'S SEPARATION 
 
 He is a powerful tease, you know, Cousin 
 Sophie." 
 
 The brown eyes, which had melted but a 
 moment ago, began to flash forth sparkles, 
 and the pink deepened in her cheeks, mak- 
 ing her more distractingly pretty than ever. 
 Sara did not wonder that Cuthbert teased 
 her if it made her look like that. 
 
 " When I see how easy some people get 
 along with their husbands, and how patient 
 wives are, I do get ashamed of the way 
 Mist 1 Mo' and I fuss; but somehow, even 
 when I make up my mind not to care, he 
 says something just too much, mostly about 
 babtism, and then I flare up. And Satur- 
 day it began the same way, and he said this 
 thing about being warned, and I fired up 
 and said I'd not listen to that again, and 
 that whoever warned him against me were 
 wicked people, and if I ever found out who 
 they were I'd tell them so, right to their 
 faces, and look them good in the eyes when 
 I did it." And Lizzie Lee gave them the 
 benefit of that look, but entirely unconscious 
 that she was thus carrying out her threat. 
 
 -I meant to say I 
 "5
 
 LIZZIE LEE'S SEPARATION 
 
 was goin' to find out, but he must have 
 thought I meant I was goin' somewhere 
 right then, or he never would have said it 
 to me I'm his wife but he sort of laughed 
 and said, ' Well, go. I'll not hinder you !' 
 Oh, I was so hurt ! I said, ' Do you mean 
 it?' And he said, 'Yes.' ' If I go,' I said, 
 and, Cousin Sophie, my voice choked up so 
 I could hardly speak, and he never seemed 
 to notice don't you think men are queer 
 that way ? ' if I go, I'll never come back.' 
 ' No,' he said, ' never come back. Never 
 come back.' He said that to me. Just 
 think of it !" 
 
 The quick tears sprang to her lovely eyes 
 in a way which would have made Cuthbert 
 forgive her for anything if he could have 
 seen it. Aunt Emmeline sniffed a little in 
 sympathy. Cousin Sophie sighed, and Mary 
 Lou absently wiped a stray tear on her 
 ruffle, and began to pull threads in her 
 handkerchief. 
 
 " I said to him, ' Do you mean that ?' 
 
 And he said, yes, he did. Then he went 
 
 out, and I went up -stairs and put on my 
 
 things. I left everything handy for him, 
 
 116
 
 LIZZIE LEE'S SEPARATION 
 
 and, it being Saturday, I laid out his Sun- 
 day suit, and put the buttons in his cuffs, 
 and laid his blue tie and his handkerchief 
 right by his collar, so he wouldn't miss me 
 the first morning. Then I came away. He 
 told me to. He said never to come back. 
 And I never will. Never, never on this 
 green earth !" 
 
 Lizzie Lee leaned back in her chair and 
 little lines appeared around her mouth, as 
 if, when she said a thing, she meant it. 
 Aunt Mary Battle wiped her glasses and 
 looked at her doubtfully, as much as to say, 
 "Were we altogether wrong?" 
 
 "Have you seen him since?" asked Cou- 
 sin Sophie. 
 
 " He came to Miz. Haney's Sunday was 
 that only yesterday ? but I didn't see him. 
 I told Miz. Haney to tell you, Aunt Mary. 
 I knew you would tell the rest." 
 
 Just then black Edith put her head in at 
 the door. 
 
 " Please, 'm, Miss Sophie, here's Sallie 
 Potts, lake to speak to you just one minute." 
 
 "Tell her to come in, Edith. Come in, 
 Sallie," cried Sara, eagerly. 
 117
 
 LIZZIE LEE'S SEPARATION 
 
 It was inspiration. 
 
 " Howdy, Sallie ?" they said. 
 
 " Howdy, Miss Sophie ? Howdy, Miz. 
 Tally? Howdy, Miz. Tuggle ? Howdy, Miss 
 Sara ? Howdy, Miss Mary Lou ? Howdy, 
 Miss Lizzie Lee ?" 
 
 " We hear bad news of you, Sallie," said 
 Sara, lugubriously. 
 
 Mary Lou pinched her arm, but Sara 
 shook her off. Sallie was a powerfully built 
 colored woman, strong and tall, and was 
 old Israel Potts's fifth wife. 
 
 " Yas'm, I done been cruelly mistreated," 
 she said, standing before them and cross- 
 ing her large arms. " I has, foh a fack. I 
 heard dat mis'ble, no 'count nigger done been 
 up hyah, fillin' Mist' Mo' full o' his side ob 
 de trouble, an' I jis ups an' says, ' I gwine 
 tell Miss Sophie my side.' Trouble between 
 husbun ^n' wife, Miss Sophie, is dey own 
 business, an' nobody got a right to say 
 whedder or no. Dat's what / says, an' I 
 knows, I does. I ain't been mah'd as many 
 times as Isrul, but I'se had enough trouble 
 wid de one husbun I hab had to make up 
 foh it. I has, foh a fack. 
 118
 
 LIZZIE LEE'S SEPARATION 
 
 "V all know what a little bitty black 
 man dat Isrul is little, meachin', sneakin' 
 well 'm, I won't say no mo' on dat head. 
 But he is all ob dat. Yas'm, he sho is. 
 He come a-walkin' in Chewsday was a week 
 ago an' says, ' De Sabbath was made foh 
 man? An' I didn't say nothin', case I see 
 he lef out de ladies a puppose to rile me 
 up, an' jis to spite him I d'termine not to 
 git riled. Den he say, ' Paul say, " Let de 
 ladies keep silence in de chutches, foh it is a 
 shame foh one ob dem to speak in chutch." ' 
 An' de Sunday befo' I had testified right 
 powerful in love - feast, Miss Sophie, an' 
 I knowed he was pintedly meanin' me. 
 'Ya-as,' I says, 'an' Mist' Mo' say Paul 
 done say his own seff dat he wasn' inspired, 
 an / say dat Paul don' need to go to de 
 trouble ob sayin' so, caze dat one ting 
 prove dat he wasn't. 1 An' den I lafe at him 
 good ! An' he say, ' Mist' Mo' never said 
 dat.' An' I say, ' You a lie.' An' he say, 
 ' Don' you say a preacher ob de gospil is a 
 lie.' An' I say, 'You a lie.' An' he say, 
 ' Don' you say dat agin.' An', Miss Sophie, 
 I said it agin. Den he thow his Bible at 
 119
 
 LIZZIE LEE'S SEPARATION 
 
 me, an' it miss me, an' I thow de rollin'-pin 
 at him, an' it hit him, an' bung his eye good. 
 I did dat foh a fack. Yas'm, I sho did. An' 
 he went an' tole everybody in de chutch 
 dat I half kill him, an' dey come an' try to 
 make us up ! An' it done made me so mad, 
 Miss Sophie, dat soon as dey gone I tuk 
 Isrul an' I tied him wid de clozeline to a kitch- 
 en cheer, hand an' foots, an' I tuk my sun- 
 bonnet offen ob de nail, an' I says, ' I leaves 
 you, Revrun Isrul Potts, an' I'se never 
 comin' back. Fom dis time, you yearns 
 yo' cawn-meal an' bakes yo' bread yo'seff. 
 I'se done wid you.' An' he says, ' Goody !' 
 An' I slams de do', an' he hollers, ' Goody,' 
 an' ' Don't you never come back,' tell I git 
 clar out ob hyahin'." 
 
 " How did he get untied ?" asked Mary 
 Lou, breathlessly. 
 
 " Well 'm, he wiggle hisseff to de do', an' 
 got dat open wid his teef, an' den he wiggle 
 hisseff, still in dat cheer, out to de big 
 road, an' set dar, hollerin' fit to bust, tell 
 somebody come by an' ontied him. 
 
 " Now, Miss Sophie, 7 says dat any lady 
 en my place would 'a' done jis same as I 
 
 . I2O
 
 LIZZIE LEE'S SEPARATION 
 
 done. Miss Sophie, he had no bizness to 
 say, ' Don' you say dat agin,' when he know 
 I gwine say it ! Well 'm, I done said my say, 
 an' put my case befo' de white ladies, lake 
 I done said I would. But, Lawd ! I don' 
 know what Isrul gwine do widout me. He 
 can't yearn nothin'. But no seff-respeckful 
 cullud lady gwine take in washin' to feed a 
 man what ain't satisfied to feed huh wid 
 bread f om Heaven by little bits, but what 
 thows the whole Bible at huh to oncet. 
 Dat's all. Miss Lizzie Lee, you lookin' 
 mighty white an pretty to-day. Please, 'm, 
 Miss Sophie, kin I hab a little coffee an' a 
 teeny little bit ob cawn-meal tell I gits de 
 nex' week's wash - money ? Thank you, 
 ma'm. Good-evenin', Miz. Battle. Good- 
 evenin', Miz. Tuggle. Good-evenin', Miz. 
 Tally. Miss Mary Lou. Miss Sara." 
 
 "And Israel says," Sara began, gayly, 
 "that he has done with Sallie for good; and 
 when Cousin Lisle asked where he got his 
 authority, he said the Scriptures say if thy 
 right hand offend thee, cut it off, and a wife 
 is a man's right hand, so he has cut her 
 off." 
 
 121
 
 LIZZIE LEE'S SEPARATION 
 
 Lizzie Lee got up and walked to the 
 window. 
 
 " How dreadful such quarrels are!" sighed 
 Cousin Sophie. 
 
 " They are perfectly absurd !" cried Aunt 
 Mary Battle. 
 
 Lizzie Lee turned around and rested her 
 hands behind her on the window-sill. Her 
 face was scarlet, and her brown eyes drooped. 
 Had she seen and understood ? She looked 
 around the room for some way of escape, 
 but they were all between her and the door. 
 
 " Cousin Sophie, I'm so mortified. I never 
 thought It was such a little thing we quar- 
 relled about. He's been so good to me." 
 She raised her eyes from the floor and went 
 on hurriedly, with strong excitement grow- 
 ing in her voice. " It was such a foolish 
 thing I'll tell him I am sorry. I can't 
 stand it without him. There he comes now, 
 with Cousin Lisle. Cousin Sophie, I'm go- 
 in' to meet him !" 
 
 And she sprang past the rocking-chairs 
 to the door.
 
 MARY LOU'S MARRY1N'
 
 MARY LOU'S MARRYIN' 
 
 WITH a final exhausted puff and a steamy 
 sigh the engine stood panting in front of 
 the Holly Springs station, while the passen- 
 gers trooped from the train for their break- 
 fast. 
 
 The conductor, carrying a lady's travel- 
 ling belongings and followed by a girl in a 
 black fur-trimmed gown, craned his neck 
 over the crowd of men in search of one to 
 relieve him. The girl gazed about with a 
 small wrinkle of perplexity in her smooth, 
 white forehead, saying, vaguely, 
 
 " I am expecting my cousin to meet me, 
 but he does not seem to be here." 
 
 At these words, a man came forward 
 
 with such a cordial, welcoming smile that 
 
 her anxious face relaxed. The conductor 
 
 transferred her affairs to this man, who said : 
 
 I2 5
 
 MARY LOU'S MARRYIN' 
 
 " It's a leetle too early to expect your 
 cousin yet, but he'll be here. And, in the 
 mean time, just let me take you to the parlor, 
 and I'll make you right comfortable. He'll 
 be here directly. Take this rocking-chair. 
 I'll pull it up close to the fire." 
 
 She took off her coat to be able to stand 
 the fire at all, enjoying the cordiality of his 
 manner and the friendly way he beamed on 
 her. She thought it exceedingly kind in 
 Cousin Lisle to have sent word, and, al- 
 though travelling for the first time alone, 
 she did not feel uneasy at being left solitary 
 in a railroad hotel parlor, for everybody 
 looked pleasantly at her, the women who 
 passed nodded and smiled, the men ad- 
 mired without rudeness, and the warm mid- 
 winter sunlight poured radiantly in at the 
 broad windows, as a finishing touch of cor- 
 dial greeting. It fell upon her white face, 
 revealing that its pallor was not natural, for 
 there were dancing lights in her warm, brown 
 eyes, and mirthful curves in the lips which 
 would not stay pressed together as firmly as 
 she strove to make them. It was a sensitive 
 face, with a certain challenge to Fate in the 
 126
 
 MARY LOU'S MARRYIN' 
 
 mutinous eyes and spirited nose, but the 
 fine lines of suffering in her forehead and 
 around her mouth showed that Fate had for 
 the time being triumphed. It showed, too, 
 in the tired way in which she drooped when 
 she was alone. The proud lift of her head 
 was gone, and her eyes saddened with the 
 terrible pathos which looks from the win- 
 dows of a woman's soul when there is no 
 one but God to see. 
 
 She leaned back and absorbed the sooth- 
 ing calm of her surroundings gratefully. 
 The soft Southern voices had no obnoxious 
 Western r's boring their way into innocent 
 words, and clinching them with a last twist 
 as final as a nut on the end of a screw, with 
 which to rasp her sensitive ear. The admir- 
 ing approval which every Southern man be- 
 stows upon a handsome girl held no trace of 
 impertinence. It was a different social at- 
 mosphere which floated in upon her from 
 all around, and if it brought back stinging 
 memories and hungry yearnings for some- 
 thing inexpressibly dear, now gone out of 
 her life forever, no one should ever know. 
 
 " May I ask the name of the cousin you 
 127
 
 MARY LOU'S MARRYIN' 
 
 are expecting?" asked her new friend, ap- 
 pearing at the door. 
 
 "Why, I thought " she began, aghast. 
 Fearful stories of what she had heard of 
 confidence-men flashed into her mind. The 
 train had long since glided down the glisten- 
 ing tracks towards New Orleans. In a mo- 
 ment she was as thoroughly nervous as only 
 a woman can be. 
 
 " Mr. Moore," she said, timidly 
 
 " Which Mr. Mo' ? Holly Springs is full 
 of Mo's." 
 
 " Mr. Lisle Moore, of ' The Hollies.' He 
 is my father's cousin, and if you will only 
 put me in the way of getting to him I shall 
 be greatly obliged to you. I thought, when 
 you said it was too early for him, that you 
 knew him, and that he must have sent word." 
 
 "Mr. Lisle Mo'. Oh-h-h yes, I see. I 
 do know him. It's just as I thought. I 
 knew you must be expectin' to meet some- 
 body from the country, for there wouldn't 
 be no reason why town-folks wouldn't be 
 here to meet you. No, he 'ain't sent word. 
 But he'll be here. No, indeed ; you can't 
 have a carriage and start out ten miles to 
 128
 
 MARY LOU'S MARRYIN' 
 
 his plantation, with only a negro man to 
 drive you. I reckon Mr. Lisle Mo' would 
 whip me if I should let you. You just stay 
 here and go on readin', and I'll send Avery 
 Tuggle." 
 
 He disappeared, and presently another 
 man slowly propelled himself into the room, 
 holding his hat in both hands, and smiling 
 protectingly down upon her. Presumably 
 this was Avery Tuggle ; but who was Avery 
 Tuggle, and why should he have been sent 
 to her ? 
 
 " Mr. Mo' will send in for you, that's cer- 
 tain," he said, evidently possessing the 
 points of the case. " It may be about noon 
 before he comes. Roads kind of bad now, 
 but he'll come." 
 
 "But can't I hire a carriage ? Haven't 
 you a livery-stable in Holly Springs ?" 
 
 He laughed pleasantly. 
 
 "Yes. ma'am, I keep it myself. Oh, I 
 could get you a buggy. 'Tain't that we 
 haven't got none. It's because I wouldn't 
 like to have you go that way, you bein' kin 
 to Mr. Mo'. No, ma'am, you can't start 
 alone. Mr. Mo' would wear me out for let- 
 i 129
 
 MARY LOU'S MARRYIN' 
 
 tin' you. But if he don't come by noon, 
 I'll carry you myself." 
 
 Sara allowed herself to be adopted by the 
 livery man and the hotel-keeper without 
 further protest. Avery Tuggle came back to 
 say that he would telephone Henry Battle 
 if he saw any of the Moores pass his place. 
 Sara supposed that Henry Battle must be 
 her first owner. 
 
 An hour more of solitude drove her to 
 think hungrily of Cousin Lisle Moore's 
 breakfast-table, and the pretty little Cousin 
 Mary Lou, whose wedding she had come to 
 attend. The next time Henry Battle ap- 
 peared, she ventured to suggest break- 
 fast. 
 
 " Of course. It may be right late before 
 anybody comes for you, and you'll be power- 
 ful hungry. Just come with me. Leave all 
 your things. They will be perfectly safe. 
 Not much use for furs in this country." 
 
 The men lounging around the clerk's 
 desk glanced at her in pleasant approval as 
 she passed. No one in the great empty 
 dining-room except herself. Dozens of 
 negro waiters going to and fro, and behind 
 130
 
 MARY LOU'S MARRY1N' 
 
 the swinging-doors such a chorus of sweet 
 voices singing, " Steal away ! Steal away ! 
 Steal away to Jesus !" negro voices, so 
 plaintive and sweet that they brought tears 
 to her eyes. A high, clear tenor led the 
 way; great soft, rumbling bass voices cra- 
 dled the others in a thick blanket of warm 
 melody which swung and rocked Sara's sen- 
 sitive, susceptible, music -loving soul, and 
 flushed her cheeks with the rapture of it. 
 She awakened to a realization that life still 
 held something for her when such music 
 was occasionally to be heard, and when such 
 a breakfast was being spread. She smiled 
 and then deprecated and finally demurred, 
 greatly to the delight of the friendly waiters, 
 who put a breakfast for five hungry men 
 around her modest plate. And still the 
 doors swung open, and still the smoking 
 dishes appeared. Quail on toast ; fried 
 chicken, crisp and golden, with crumpled 
 brown edges and luscious juices of being 
 done to a turn. Waffles as delicate as egg- 
 shells; honey as clear as topaz; coffee like 
 amber, with a fat jug of yellow clotted cream ; 
 beaten biscuits, daintily browned, to say ab-
 
 MARY LOU'S MARRYIN* 
 
 solutely nothing of the fruit she was sup- 
 posed to begin with. 
 
 Sarah never forgot that first breakfast in 
 the South, partly because she was enough 
 of an honest woman to declare that she 
 loved good things to eat, partly because of 
 the adorable singing which went on in the 
 kitchen, only interrupted by orders from 
 the head waiter or an uproarious, infectious 
 burst of negro laughter, even more enchant- 
 ing than the singing, and partly because a 
 vision of loveliness in the shape of Mary 
 Lou rushed in upon her just as she was fin- 
 ishing and gave her the warmest and ten- 
 derest of welcomes. 
 
 Mr. Henry Battle smiled and rubbed his 
 hands with pleasure. All the men from the 
 office gathered around the door, the negroes 
 crowded in from the kitchen, smiling and 
 nodding with sympathetic delight. Their re- 
 spectful interest in Sara's affairs was not to 
 be resented, but cordially appreciated. Mr. 
 Battle put her belongings into the carriage, 
 asked Mary Lou about all of the fam- 
 ily, congratulated the well ones, recom- 
 mended new medicines for the sick, ob- 
 132
 
 MARY LOU'S MARRYIN' 
 
 tallied her news of the bad roads, felicitated 
 the country in general upon the rise in cot- 
 ton, and put both girls into the carriage 
 with brotherly solicitude. Sara felt some 
 trepidation in offering to settle a bill with 
 such an intimate friend of hers as he had 
 now become, but he accepted the amount 
 with the same gallant air with which he had 
 attended to her wants, probably regarding 
 it in the nature of a loan. 
 
 Mary Lou, with affectionate severity, 
 urged upon her negro driver the necessity 
 of getting home before Christmas, at which 
 he ducked his head and grinned delighted- 
 ly A little black girl, who would not ride 
 on the front seat with 'Rastus, crouched at 
 their feet, gazing into Sara's face with the 
 unblinking stare of a young owl. 
 
 In this fashion they drove up to the post- 
 office, where Mary Lou went through simi- 
 lar questionings from the postmaster. He 
 was introduced to " Cousin Sara," and 
 adopted her into his family as joyfully as 
 had Henry Battle and Avery Tuggle. Every 
 known specimen of December magazine was 
 in the armful of mail which Mary Lou stowed
 
 MARY LOU'S MARRYIN' 
 
 under the seat, and there were letters let- 
 ters of a thickness that warmed one's heart 
 to see. 
 
 They drove skilfully between cotton bales 
 piled high, and load upon load of cotton 
 seed gathering around the court-house, and 
 at the edge of town they drew up before the 
 livery-stable. Avery Tuggle, an old friend 
 by this time, hurried out and shook hands 
 cordially. 
 
 " Papa will send in for Cousin Sara's 
 trunk, but you keep her check. Give him 
 your check, Cousin Sara. He said he 
 would send for it some time this week. 
 He's ginnin' all his cotton to take advan- 
 tage of the rise. Good-morninV 
 
 "Good-mornin', Miss Mary Lou," re- 
 sponded Mr. Tuggle. " Mind you take 
 good care of Miss Sara !" 
 
 " Are \ve all related, Mary Lou ?" asked 
 Sara, mischievously, as they drove away. 
 She told her experience. 
 
 " Laws, no !" laughed Mary Lou. " Papa 
 never would have forgiven Mist Tuggle 
 for lettin' you start alone. There's nothin' 
 funny in that. You see, we never got your
 
 MARY LOU'S MARRYIN' 
 
 letter till this mornin'. We sent for the 
 mail yesterday, but Israel never brought it 
 up to the house till about three hours ago. 
 Papa just gave it to him. Said he'd have 
 him shot if he played him such a trick 
 again. Then he told him you were comin' 
 on the ' Cannon-ball,' and would be waitin' 
 there all this time, and made poor old Is- 
 rael feel mighty bad." 
 
 " Every one was so cordial and smiling 
 that I wondered if they knew what I came 
 down here for." 
 
 Mary Lou clutched her arm. 
 
 "You didn't tell them, I hope?" 
 
 " Tell them ! Don't they know it ?" 
 
 "Whoo-ee! No, they don't. Nobody 
 does. I wouldn't have them know for any- 
 thing in this world." 
 
 " How can you keep from talking of it 
 before the servants ?" 
 
 Sara paused in dismay as she met the 
 fixed gaze of the child crouching at their 
 feet. 
 
 " Oh, you needn't mind Alice Potts. 
 Papa calls her ' Non Compos Mentis ' half 
 the time. She answers to that name as quick 
 '35
 
 MARY LOU'S MARRYIN' 
 
 as she does to 'Alice.' Just say something 
 about Christmas, and she'll never know. 
 And 'Rastus is deaf. We don't talk these 
 things over very much in the South. If we 
 can keep it a secret up to the very day, we 
 are mightily pleased to do it." 
 
 " But why ?" 
 
 " Well, on plantations, if the coloreds 
 know there is going to be a marryin', they 
 come in crowds. Whole families shut up 
 their houses and come and stay, and you've 
 got to feed them, and doctor them if they 
 get sick, and give them clothes fit to be seen 
 if you don't want to be disgraced. Then," 
 and her face dropped, " maybe the girl 
 changes her mind at the last minute, and it 
 comes a little hard on the boy if it's known." 
 
 " Naturally." 
 
 " You've never been south before, Cousin 
 Sara ?" 
 
 " Never so far as this. I spent last sum- 
 mer on Lookout Mountain." 
 
 " Oh, that's way up yonder." 
 
 " Mary Lou, tell me about the man you 
 are going to m-a-r-r-y," spelled Sara, in 
 deference to the stare of Non Compos. 
 136
 
 MARY LOU'S MARRYIN' 
 
 Mary Lou laughed and twitched at her 
 ribbons half impatiently. 
 
 " Cousin Sara, would you be very much 
 disappointed if there shouldn't be any mar- 
 ryin' after all ?" 
 
 " After my coming a thousand miles to 
 see you go through with it, and having 
 brought you a white silk dress in my trunk, 
 and a veil and gloves and shoes to match ? 
 Oh no!" 
 
 Mary Lou gave a little bounce. 
 
 " Oh, Cousin Sara, honest true, did you ? 
 Did you, Cousin Sara ? Go along, Bird ! 
 You are the slowest horse ! 'Rastus, can't 
 you make him keep up with Fanny?" 
 
 A pink flush crept into her soft cheeks. 
 She was a little puff-ball of femininity, 
 round and smooth and distracting. 
 
 " It was to have been I mean, it is to be 
 on Christmas Day, because we can have all 
 the preparations made and the necessary 
 cookin' done as if for Christmas, and the 
 negroes will never suspect. What kind of 
 silk is it, Cousin Sara? Oh, lovely! I 
 must just give you another kiss right this 
 minute. I was going to marry in a travel-
 
 MARY LOU'S MARRYIN' 
 
 I'm' -dress. I never thought of a white 
 silk." 
 
 "When do you expect to have your 
 clothes made ?" asked Sara, apprehensively. 
 
 "Oh, they are all bein' made at my 
 dressmaker's in N' Orleans. We'll have 
 to make the white silk ourselves. Old 
 Aunt Sallie sews beautifully. We'll tell her 
 it is your dress." 
 
 "Well, tell me about HIM my new 
 cousin." 
 
 " Oh," answered Mary Lou, half impa- 
 tiently, " he is big and fair, with blue eyes, 
 and light hair that would curl if he gave it 
 a chance. He used to be lively and full of 
 fun, but he's so stern and sad now that I 
 am half afraid of him. He won't tell me 
 what troubles him. He says I am never to 
 be worried by anything, and that he owes 
 it to me to make my life as free from sorrow 
 as he can. I suppose you have all the latest 
 New York styles in your head, haven't you ?" 
 
 " Yes," answered Sara, absently. She 
 wanted Mary Lou to talk further about her 
 fiancb, but this she seemed singularly averse 
 to do. 
 
 138
 
 MARY LOU'S MARRYIN' 
 
 As they drove into the plantation grounds 
 they were assailed by a chorus of dogs and 
 a swarm of black children who flocked from 
 the house, followed by the various members 
 of Mary Lou's family, all eager to bid her 
 welcome. To Sara's surprise, Non Compos, 
 the silent, the stupid, sprang up in the car- 
 riage, waving her little black paws and 
 shrieking, 
 
 " We brungher ! We done fotch de Prin- 
 cess ! Keep away from her, Lucius ! Don't 
 tech her dress wid yo 1 black hands, Anna ! 
 You, Lelia, drap my Miss Sara's hand- 
 baig! I'se gwine ca'y it my own seff." 
 
 Sara's enjoyment was infectious. Her 
 cousins reprimanded the black children, 
 whom they spoiled badly, and made a soft 
 clamor over their kinswoman, as delightful 
 as it was unique. 
 
 Already the pallor was leaving Sara's 
 cheeks. She felt the intoxication of this 
 new mood which had descended upon her. 
 Everything was queer and different, but she 
 chose to enjoy it in her own way. She 
 could scarcely keep her eyes from the black 
 children, who were constantly under-foot,
 
 MARY LOU'S MARRYIN' 
 
 but who were allowed to stay " in de 
 gret house," to learn of their mothers, the 
 house-servants, how to wait on the ladies. 
 It was, 
 
 " Lelia, get Miss Sara a glass of water;" 
 or, 
 
 " Alice Potts, pick up Miss Sara's hand- 
 kerchief;" or, 
 
 " Anna, go tell Lucius to get your pretty 
 Miss Sara some persimmons." 
 
 Mary Lou persuaded her father to send 
 back to town that same day an unheard- 
 of thing for Sara's trunk. When it came, 
 she enjoined the strictest secrecy concern- 
 ing the white silk. If it had been stolen, 
 and detectives on their track, the two girls 
 could not have looked more guilty or more 
 conscious. 
 
 It was, indeed, as Mary Lou had said. 
 The wedding preparations went forward as 
 if for Christmas, and nothing was said about 
 them except in the secret recesses of Sara's 
 room, where, closeted with Mary Lou's 
 mother, Cousin Sophie, endless discussions 
 were held. 
 
 Finally, Sara could stand it no longer. 
 140
 
 MARY LOU'S MARRYIN' 
 
 " Sophie, do tell me about the man him- 
 self." 
 
 " Why, Cousin Sara, I don't believe the 
 child knows which one she's going to 
 marry. But you are right. It certainly 
 is time she decided. I reckon I'll ask 
 her." 
 
 Sara gave up after that. She accepted 
 this, too, as a part and parcel of the new 
 regime, and really came to enjoy the un- 
 certainty. She made sure of a wedding of 
 some kind by stipulating that the white silk 
 was for a wedding-dress. It was bought 
 for that purpose ; it must be used for that 
 purpose or, in the pause which ensued, 
 Mary Lou had awful visions of the dainty 
 thing being withdrawn from her enraptured 
 sight altogether and whisked back the thou- 
 sand miles whence it had come. 
 
 The girls, although so totally unlike, 
 grew fonder of each other daily. They 
 strolled in the grounds, followed by the de- 
 voted Non Compos, and attended by Lu- 
 cius, clad in a cast-off street jacket of Mary 
 Lou's, whose fulness flapped around his 
 lean shanks with such an old-world air that 
 141
 
 MARY LOU'S MARRYIN' 
 
 Sara named it " Lucius's surtout," to his 
 infinite pride. 
 
 So easily are good manners corrupted, or 
 rather are habits of thrift deposed, that 
 Sara no longer wondered why they did not 
 fence the chickens in, instead of converting 
 the violet beds into brush-heaps to prevent 
 the flowers from being eaten bodily. She, 
 herself, now sent the children flying to 
 drive the hens away, or to pile the brush 
 higher. She took a violent interest in the 
 flower pit where Mary Lou hid her more 
 delicate plants from the mild rigor of the 
 Southern winter. She grew to love the great 
 white house, with its green blinds and deep 
 porch. But the great plantation bell, swing- 
 ing like a grim, black sentinel from the top 
 of a dead tree, possessed a fascination for 
 her which with difficulty she resisted at all. 
 
 " I do believe I shall die, Mary Lou, if I 
 can't ring that bell," she said, in one of 
 their walks. 
 
 "That's the only thing on the whole 
 
 plantation that you can't do," said Mary 
 
 Lou. " It would bring all the hands in 
 
 from the cotton-fields, and all the coloreds 
 
 142
 
 MARY LOU'S MARRYIN' 
 
 from far and near. It would make any one 
 ridin' along the big road turn in here to 
 offer help, for it means that somebody is 
 wanted mighty bad, or that something aw- 
 ful has happened at 'The Hollies.' It al- 
 ways scares me to hear it, except at the 
 regular times for it to ring, and then it only 
 gives a peal or two. I do honestly think 
 I would curl up and die if I heard it ring a 
 long time." 
 
 Sara looked at it longingly, but passed 
 on. 
 
 " Miss Sara, take me back up North wid 
 you when you go," cried Non Compos, who 
 was skipping along at her side. 
 
 " Why, Alice, what would you do in a 
 place where there are no grounds for you 
 to play in just houses and houses?" 
 
 "No grounds, Miss Sara?" 
 
 " No, none at all." 
 
 The child stood kicking at a pile of dead 
 leaves in silence for a moment. She al- 
 ways kicked at something when she was 
 about to think. The movement of her 
 feet seemed to loosen a tendon in her 
 brain. 
 
 '43
 
 MARY LOU'S MARRYIN' 
 
 " No grounds, Miss Sara ? Then what do 
 de rain fall awn ?" 
 
 "Just listen at that," said Mary Lou. 
 "I told you she was non compos mentis. 
 Run along, Alice. You bother Miss Sara. 
 Princess, what would you do if you were en- 
 gaged to the wrong man, and had come to 
 the conclusion too late that you. loved the 
 other?" 
 
 " I would break off the engagement, and 
 marry the one I loved," said Sara, with sud- 
 den fire in her tones. 
 
 " Oh, my Brown Eyes ! How I love to 
 see them light up !" 
 
 " Don't !" gasped Sara. " Don't call me 
 that. I I can't bear it." 
 
 Mary Lou was a little ball of thistle- 
 down in many matters, but in affairs of the 
 heart she was a Minerva and a Solomon 
 rolled into one. She looked af her cous- 
 in's white face out of the corners of her 
 eyes. 
 
 " Some man has called her ' Brown 
 Eyes,' " she thought, shrewdly. 
 
 " The man I love has brown eyes," she 
 said, softly. " That is why I speak of 
 144
 
 MARY LOU'S MARRYIN' 
 
 yours so often. I can't bear blue -eyed 
 men." 
 
 Sara laid her hand on the bosom of her 
 gown, under which, in a flat gold heart, lay 
 the picture of a blue-eyed man. She said 
 nothing. 
 
 " She has got his picture in a locket," 
 thought Mary Lou, who watched her. " And, 
 oh dear, there are tears in her eyes." 
 
 " I am going back to the house," she an- 
 nounced. " And the children must come 
 with me. Shall we leave you to finish your 
 walk ?" 
 
 " Yes, do. I will be back soon," said 
 Sara, eagerly. 
 
 " She wants to look at that locket, and 
 think about him alone. She needs a good 
 cry," thought Mary Lou, gathering up the 
 children, and going back with a lovely look 
 of sympathy on her sweet face. 
 
 Left alone, Sara drew out the flat gold 
 heart and looked into the face of the man 
 who gazed out at her with brave, fearless 
 eyes. She unfastened the chain, and held 
 the locket in her hand. Then slowly she 
 took out a letter, almost dropping to pieces
 
 MARY LOU'S MARRYIN' 
 
 from many foldings, and read it again. 
 How many times she had read it already ! 
 
 "Although this letter has neither begin- 
 ning nor ending, you will know from whom 
 it comes. Dear heart, let me call you so, 
 although I have no right to ask, and, what 
 is worse, I never shall have. I am going 
 away without seeing you again. I am 
 strong enough for that, but God knows 
 what might happen if I should beg another 
 interview, even to say the good-bye which 
 wrings my heart to write. 
 
 "I must tell you, in desperation I must 
 tell you that I am bound to another, a sweet 
 girl, whom I thought I loved until I met 
 you. But you, you have shown me what it 
 is to love. I feel that I am both weak and 
 false to her to tell you this, but perhaps, af- 
 ter last night, I owe it to you to paint my- 
 self in my true colors, and let you despise 
 me if you will. The only comfort I have is 
 that your heart is as yet untouched. I beg 
 that you will pardon the arrogance of the 
 words ' as yet,' but I swear to you, by the 
 Heaven above us, that you should love me 
 if I were free to ask ! Yet I love you so 
 146
 
 MARY LOU'S MARRYIN' 
 
 much that I am glad the suffering is to be 
 all mine. I would only plead for a little 
 regret from you, which the tender light in 
 your brown eyes tells me I should have, be- 
 cause you know my pain. 
 
 " I have tried to be true to her, yet this 
 whole letter is a betrayal. I only ask you 
 to believe that I never dreamed I loved you 
 until last night. If I had, I should have gone 
 before now, and this letter would only have 
 come to you sooner. It seems as if Fate 
 first tempts, and then judges inexorably. I 
 have meant to do right, but see how I have 
 fallen. I claim to be strong, yet I deliber- 
 ately choose to send you this letter with all 
 its fatal weakness apparent, and all my love 
 in its possession. 
 
 " I have not the courage to write a last 
 word to you. Let this letter be broken off 
 as abruptly as the current of our two lives. 
 I shall always love you, my Brown Eyes, al- 
 ways, always !" 
 
 When she had finished reading, Sara put 
 her face down in her hands and wept bitter 
 tears upon the face in the gold heart. 
 
 She was so intense a personality, and so
 
 MARY LOU'S MARRYIN' 
 
 self-poised, that few would have suspected 
 her of the weakness of the gold heart. Yet 
 the few might have known, might even feel 
 an understanding compassion for the fool- 
 ishness which wrote " Toujours " across the 
 flat, gold surface. Ah me, and why not ? 
 Are the self-poised forever debarred from 
 foolish delights ? And what would become 
 of the men if only the silly, clinging women 
 were the ones to write " Toujours " across 
 a gold heart, and treasure it against their 
 own ? 
 
 When Sara appeared in the home circle 
 around the great open fire, there were traces 
 of storm in her face to Mary Lou's observ- 
 ant eyes, and there was a pathetic droop in 
 her tired smile which wrung Mary Lou's 
 faithful heart. 
 
 " Miss Sara, will you write my letter to 
 Santa Claw ?" asked Non Compos, thrust- 
 ing paper and pencil into her hand. " Miss 
 Ma'y Lou done wrote Anna's an' Lelia's, 
 but /want de Prin-wss to write mine." 
 
 " Well, tell me what to say," said Sara. 
 
 " ' Dear Santa Claw, thank you for what 
 you brung me las' Christmas, and please, 
 148
 
 MARY LOU'S MARRYIN' 
 
 sir, don't forget me dis time. I'se been a 
 good chile. I done kep' Miss Sophie's 
 chip-box full, an' ain't forgot to draw water 
 and ain't been imperent, an' I'se hunted 
 aigs faithful. Please, sir, bring me a gol' 
 ring an' a silk handkercher. An' bring Miss 
 Sophie her good health back again, wot she 
 done los' since col' weather sot in. An' 
 bring Mist' Mo' some new slippahs, 'case 
 his is all busted out, an' it don' look right 
 for a gemman to wear slippahs dat ain't fit- 
 ten for nobody but a niggah to wear, an' 
 dey would jus' fit Uncle Israel. An' bring 
 Miss Sara ' 
 
 " Say, Miss Sara," said the child, inter- 
 rupting herself, " ain't you got no sweet- 
 heart, lake Miss Ma'y Lou ?" 
 
 " No, Alice, I haven't any." 
 
 " Miss Ma'y Lou's got three or' fo'. Ain't 
 you got ary one ? Ain't you never gwi' 
 mah'y ?'' 
 
 " No, I think not." 
 
 " Miss Ma'y Lou, why don' you give Miss 
 Sara one of yours ? You got mo'n you kin 
 hanT; I done heard Mammy say so." 
 
 " She can have any of mine, except one," 
 149
 
 MARY LOU'S MARRYIN' 
 
 said Mary Lou, laughing. " I must keep 
 one for myself, Alice one with brown 
 eyes." 
 
 " What color -eyes does you want your 
 husbun to hab, Miss Sara ?" 
 
 " Blue, please," said Sara. 
 
 " Now go awn wid de letter. I'se gwi' 
 ask Santa Claw for jus' de ve'y ting y' all 
 want de mos 1 ." 
 
 " ' An' bring Miss Sara an' Miss Ma'y 
 Lou two husbun's, an' don' get 'em mixed 
 up, 'case Miss Ma'y Lou 'bleeged to hab 
 one wid brown eyes, and Miss Sara got to 
 hab de blue-eyed gemman. An' bring Miss 
 Sara's husbun a red cravat an' a gol' collar- 
 button, 'case Miss Sara's a fine lady, an' 
 she mus' hab a fine gemman to mah'y." 
 
 "The very thing we want most," mur- 
 mured Mary Lou. " Consider our pain, 
 Non Compos, to discover that you have 
 divined our secret with such unerring skill. 
 We shall await Christmas day with eager 
 and expectant joy. I sometimes wonder, 
 Alice, if you are as great a fool as you 
 look." 
 
 Alice ducked behind Mary Lou's chair,
 
 MARY LOU'S MARRYIN' 
 
 whence she was promptly rapped out again, 
 with a thimble brought in smart contact 
 with her woolly head. 
 
 It came to be the day before Christmas. 
 The house was in holiday attire. Invita- 
 tions were out long ago for a Christmas 
 party in honor of Cousin Sara. Holly 
 framed the pictures on the walls, and 
 bunches of mistletoe swung from the hang- 
 ing lamps, making even the stateliest prog- 
 ress through the great rooms dangerous. 
 In the yard, for days the large brick ovens 
 had been harboring goodly sights and ex- 
 haling goodlier odors, the results of which 
 were now stacked in kitchen and store- 
 room. A huge box from New York arrived 
 during the day for Sara, with which she 
 closeted herself in her room, demanding 
 that no one should enter there on pain of 
 death. She only emerged to take her 
 meals with the family, and had she not 
 been unusually preoccupied she would have 
 noticed Mary Lou's pale cheeks and mourn- 
 ful droop. 
 
 In the early twilight she called Mary Lou 
 into her room. Everywhere stood odd-
 
 MARY LOU'S MARRYIN' 
 
 shaped parcels, covered with newspapers to 
 conceal their identity. Sara lighted the can- 
 dles in their sconces and began to dress. 
 
 " Well, I've done it," said Mary Lou. 
 
 " Done what ?" 
 
 " I've broken my engagement." 
 
 " For the love of Heaven !" exclaimed 
 Sara. " When ?" 
 
 " Just now. That was he you heard rid- 
 in' out a little while ago. Perhaps I ought 
 not to have let him come." 
 
 " When did he come, and why didn't you 
 tell me ?" 
 
 " He only got in town this mornin', and 
 he's going on this evenin's train to New 
 York, he said, but what he's going there 
 for I don't see. I am just as mad as I can 
 be, too." 
 
 " What are you mad at ? You've been 
 wanting to get rid of him ever since I came. 
 Was he broken-hearted ? Did he reproach 
 you and storm around ?" 
 
 " No," exclaimed Mary Lou, explosively. 
 " That's just what is the matter. He only 
 said, ' Are you sure ? Oh, Miss Mary Lou, 
 are you sure ?' And when I said ' Yes,' as
 
 MARY LOU'S MARRYIN' 
 
 kindly as I could, for fear of hurtin' him, 
 he grabbed my hand and nearly crushed it, 
 and seemed glad actually glad. His face 
 was perfectly radiant." 
 
 Tears of mortification dimmed Mary Lou's 
 eyes. 
 
 Sara finished her hair in a hurry, warmed 
 by Mary Lou's narrative, and struggled with 
 the waist of her gown. One of the many 
 hooks thereon caught in the invisible chain 
 which held her locket and snapped it, drop- 
 ping the gold heart on the floor at Mary 
 Lou's feet, where it lay face upward and 
 open. She glanced down, then seized and 
 looked at it. 
 
 "What are you doin' with Mr. Hilary 
 Bonner's picture in your locket ?" she said, 
 in a low tone. 
 
 Sara almost gasped. 
 
 " How did_>w/ know his name ?" she said. 
 
 " Why shouldn't I know the name of the 
 man I was going to marry, who rode out of 
 these grounds not half an hour ago? 1 ' 
 
 Sara's face grew wan even as her cousin 
 looked at her. They stared at each other 
 in a silence too deep for words. 
 '53
 
 MARY LOU'S MARRYIN' 
 
 " He has been here," whispered Sara, 
 " and I never saw him ? Oh, Mary Lou, 
 and are you the girl I've been envying all 
 this year?" 
 
 " And are you the girl he was so glad to 
 be rid of me for ? Oh, Cousin Sara, I'm so 
 glad ! I'm so glad ! He is the best and 
 the bravest and the truest man in the 
 world except one." 
 
 " But he's gone," whispered Sara again, 
 still holding the gold heart in her two hands, 
 and staring at the face with a look in her 
 eyes that Hilary Bonner should have seen. 
 
 " I wonder, if I sent after him, if anybody 
 could overtake him. Saladin is lame, and 
 papa and mamma took the carriage-horses 
 right after dinner to go for grandma. It's 
 moonlight, so they won't be back till nine 
 o'clock. Lucius couldn't catch a fly if I 
 sent him. Oh dear! oh dear! and he was 
 going on the evenin' train ! " 
 
 " Do you suppose he still cares for me ?" 
 asked Sara, timidly, searching Mary Lou's 
 excited face wistfully. 
 
 "Am I sure? Of course I am. If you 
 could have seen him ! And his going 
 154
 
 MARY LOU'S MARRYIN' 
 
 straight to New York ! Oh, it's like a book 
 it's like a play ! I'll take Fanny and go 
 after him myself." 
 
 " Lucius took Fanny and went to town 
 for me," said Sara. 
 
 " Then we can't possibly overtake him. 
 We'll just have to sit still and let him go. 
 And he breakin' his heart for you, and you 
 breakin' yours for him !" 
 
 Mary Lou wrung her hands. 
 
 " The bell the plantation bell !" cried 
 Sara. 
 
 Mary Lou started and hesitated. 
 
 " There's no one to be scared by it, and 
 who cares if there is ?" she cried, in glad 
 defiance of a law of her childhood. She 
 sprang up, and the two girls rushed from the 
 house and made straight for the dead tree 
 from which swung the black sentinel of 
 " The Hollies." 
 
 Mary Lou seized the bell-rope, but Sara 
 laid a detaining hand on her arm. 
 
 "Oh, Mary Lou, suppose he shouldn't 
 want to come back," she said, with strange 
 timidity. 
 
 " He needn't know that you want him. 
 '55
 
 MARY LOU'S MARRYIN' 
 
 I'll tell him I did it that he forgot his 
 gloves !" cried Mary Lou, stoutly. She 
 leaned to the bell-rope, and a startled peal 
 cut the crisp air, which sent a tingle along 
 Sara's nerves like electricity. Louder, 
 faster, gayer swung the bell. The negroes 
 swarmed in from their cabins. Lanterns 
 flashed to and fro in the soft gloom, and 
 overhead the pale moon was riding high in 
 the heavens, growing brighter and clearer 
 as the shadows deepened upon the earth 
 she watched. 
 
 " Wha's de mattah, chile ? Wha' foh you 
 ring dat bell ?" they cried, gathering around 
 her. 
 
 " Because to-morrow's Christmas !" cried 
 Mary Lou, growing more reckless with the 
 intoxication of the sounds and life she 
 stirred with her clangor. 
 
 A burst of wriggling laughter answered 
 her. 
 
 " Dat's so ! 'Fo' Gawd, de chile's right ! 
 Ring 'em out, Miss Ma'y Lou. Hit sho 
 do soun' putty to hear de Christmas bells 
 a-ringin' in de ole plantation groun's once 
 mo' !" 
 
 156
 
 MARY LOU'S MARRYIN' 
 
 They scattered to their homes again, as 
 satisfied and delighted as children. 
 
 " We are ringin' our weddin' - bells, 
 Cousin Sara !" cried Mary Lou, ringing 
 more madly than ever. 
 
 " Ours ?" exclaimed Sara. 
 
 " Yes, I'm going to marry the brown-eyed 
 husband that Alice ordered for me." 
 
 " Hush a minute," urged Sara. 
 
 Mary Lou paused. Sara was shaking like 
 a leaf. " Will he know that we want him if 
 he hears it ?" 
 
 " Of course he will. So will everybody 
 else. I only hope that a dozen others 
 won't happen along the road just now." 
 
 " Listen !" cried Mary Lou. " I heard a 
 horse but there are wheels, too. That 
 isn't Hilary. He was on horseback." 
 
 They listened eagerly. Soon a buggy, 
 with the horse lashed into a gallop, came 
 into view, turned in at " The Hollies," and 
 Lucius, his face ashen with fright, tumbled 
 out, while poor Fanny heaved and panted 
 as a petted horse always does if she ever 
 goes out of a trot. 
 
 " Foil foil de Lawd's sake, Miss Ma'y 
 '57
 
 MARY LOU'S MARRYIN' 
 
 Lou," stammered Lucius, " wha wha's de 
 mattah ? Is Mist' Mo' daid ?" 
 
 " No, nobody is dead. But to-morrow is 
 Christmas, and I knew you'd come crawl- 
 in' home about New Year's, wantin' to 
 hang up your stockin' if I didn't hurry you 
 up some. Go 'long and feed Fanny mind 
 you rest her and rub her down first. I'm 
 going to ring the bell some more." 
 
 "Oh, don't!" cried Sara, almost in tears. 
 " He's too far away. He can't hear." 
 
 But Mary Lou's spirits were now at a 
 pitch when she wanted to ring the bell at 
 any cost. She swayed to and fro, bending 
 her weight to bring forth a great, sonorous 
 clangor, which made Sara mute with appre- 
 hension. 
 
 Presently she stopped of her own accord. 
 
 " Now, if he hasn't heard by this time, it 
 is too late," she said. 
 
 They stood hand in hand, listening with 
 bated breath. 
 
 " I hear him," whispered Mary Lou, pull- 
 ing at her cousin's hand. " Don't you?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Now do you ?" 
 
 '58
 
 MARY LOU'S MARRYIN' 
 
 " I hear somebody, but perhaps it is not 
 he." 
 
 " But I know it is. Hear him ! Nobody 
 except Hilary can ride like that, and over 
 these roads. Hear him ride !" 
 
 Mary Lou was quite wild with excite- 
 ment. Some of it subtly communicated it- 
 self to Sara. She seized the white shawl 
 from Mary Lou's shoulders, and, flinging it 
 over her head, she sped down the drive to 
 the big gate, which Lucius had left open. 
 
 She stood trembling between hope and 
 fear. Nearer and nearer came the hoof- 
 beats of a madly ridden horse. She looked 
 down the road, and in the pale moonlight 
 she saw the figure of his gallant rider, a 
 part, a parcel of the swift motion beneath 
 him. The horse, dripping with foam, 
 swerved in at the gate, and at the sight of 
 Sara the rider flung himself out of the sad- 
 dle, splashed with mud from head to foot, 
 almost at her very feet. He had expect- 
 ed to see Mary Lou, but terror at the 
 bell's summons and all other apprehensions 
 merged into his incredulous delight at be- 
 ing confronted instead with the deep eyes
 
 MARY LOU'S MARRYIN' 
 
 whose rays had fired his heart on Lookout 
 Mountain, when he had first loved her and 
 had written that letter. 
 
 They remembered to come into the house 
 at last. Mary Lou met them with a whim- 
 sical smile lurking in the corners of her 
 mouth. 
 
 " Howdy, Cousin Hilary?" she said, de- 
 murely. 
 
 Hilary Bonner laughed in proud delight 
 at Sara's furious blushes, and caught both 
 of Mary Lou's hands in his. 
 
 " She has been telling me about it. It 
 is all your doing, you dear, generous little 
 woman." 
 
 The quick tears sprang to Mary Lou's 
 eyes. She turned away to hide them. 
 
 " For mercy's sake, Cousin Sara !" she 
 cried. " You've ruined your dress. It's mud 
 from head to foot. How in the world ' 
 She paused, and glanced at Hilary, but he 
 was studying the holly branches on the wall, 
 and Sara had discreetly vanished. 
 
 On Christmas morning the air was thick 
 with exclamations of " Christmas gif !" 
 "Christmas gif !" as Alice and Anna, Lucius 
 1 60
 
 MARY LOU'S MARRYIN' 
 
 and Lelia built the fires by candlelight, and 
 forced the family to eat breakfast at dawn, 
 in order to hasten the time when they 
 would be " Santa Clawed." 
 
 The servants, old and young, with no end 
 of unexpected relatives and camp-followers, 
 gathered in the parlor to view the mysteries 
 of the bundles hidden therein. As per 
 previous announcement, the children's work 
 for the day had all been done, churning 
 finished, wood and water brought, every- 
 thing cleared away, hearths painted, and a 
 roaring, picturesque wood fire built in every 
 room. The chair which held their stock- 
 ings was uncovered, and with a howl of de- 
 light they sprang upon their property and 
 undid it, " just as if," said Cousin Lisle, 
 " they had not had the identical things 
 every Christmas since they were born." 
 
 The family were in gales of laughter over 
 the antics caused by the wonders contained 
 in Sara's box. How appropriate a blue- 
 gauze fan seemed to old Aunt Sallie, and a 
 card-case to the mother of the twins ! Every 
 one got what had been asked for in the let- 
 ters to Santa Glaus. 
 
 L 161
 
 MARY LOU'S MARRYIN' 
 
 Presently Non Compos wrenched her 
 gaze away from her precious gold ring and 
 pulled at Sara's hand. 
 
 " Miss Sara," she whispered, "I don't see 
 no husbuns." 
 
 " Go out and look, Alice. Ask Cousin 
 Lisle if he saw any." 
 
 She came back radiant. 
 
 " He's out dah talkin' to Mist' Hilary 
 Bonnah an' Mist' Clinton Millah. He say 
 he b'leeve he did see 'em skitin' aroun' 
 some befo' breakfas'. He say he reckon 
 dey roost in de trees wid de tuckeys, an' he 
 gwi' hab 'em shuck down foh me, soon's 
 I fin' him de tree dey's in. He say he 
 b'leeve it's jest gwi' to rain husbuns at ' De 
 Hollies ' dis day, an' Mist' Hilary Bon- 
 nah an' Mist' Clinton Millah lake to bust 
 dey sides a-laffin' at him." 
 
 Towards evening the gathering of the 
 clans began. Buggies and carriages filed 
 into the grounds, negroes ran about shout- 
 ing contrary directions, caring for horses, 
 removing wraps, shaking out tumbled dress- 
 es, supplying pins, even needles and thread 
 when needed. Mary Lou was not to be seen. 
 162
 
 MARY LOU'S MARRYIN' 
 
 Everybody met Cousin Sara, who, in a 
 pink gown which matched her cheeks, had 
 a strange fashion of disappearing every 
 once in a while. Mr. Bonner's tall, soldierly 
 figure also had a way of being in unmis- 
 takable proximity to the pink gown, and 
 at the sight of his bronzed face and intent 
 gaze the pink flush always deepened. 
 
 There were lights and music and flow- 
 ers. There were fresh, sweet faces, and 
 soft, melodious voices, much laughter, and 
 a general air of Christmas gayety in the 
 holly -trimmed rooms. And suddenly a 
 hush, when out from among the throng, 
 which parted to give them place, walked 
 Mary Lou in her sweet white silk, with Mr. 
 Clinton Miller, who paused in the centre of 
 the drawing-room floor, just under the most 
 generous cluster of mistletoe. And in the 
 surprised silence the preacher's voice was 
 heard in the solemn words which gave Mary 
 Lou another's name, even as she long ago 
 had given her heart into another's keeping. 
 
 A brief moment, and Mary Lou's marry- 
 ing, so admirably kept secret, was un fait 
 accompli, a thing to talk about and to emu- 
 163
 
 MARY LOU'S MARRYIN' 
 
 late for years to come, in its secrecy and 
 dispatch, and complete fulfilment of all re- 
 quirements. 
 
 Everybody, including Mr. Hilary Bon- 
 ner, looked so radiantly happy that sounds 
 of woe disturbed his kindly heart. He 
 sought out the mourner, and discovered 
 poor little Non Compos on the porch in the 
 dark, sobbing as if her heart would break. 
 All day long she had wandered around un- 
 noticed, gazing into the tree-tops, whence 
 she had the solemn assurance that the 
 promised husbands would come. Mr. Bon- 
 ner drew forth the story of her deception. 
 
 "An' if cley did come now." she wound 
 up, with a final burst of tears, " it's too 
 dark for me to fin' 'em. I didn't see Mist' 
 Millah drap, an' Miss Ma'y Lou done foun' 
 him widout me. Now, if Miss Sara's comes, 
 I cain't see him, an' I did want to take de 
 Prin-rm her husbun wid my own hand." 
 
 "Poor little soul!" said Mr. Bonner. 
 " Cheer up, Alice. You can take me ! 
 There is Miss Sara standing in the door. 
 Let's go to her. I'll be her husband, if she 
 will let me." 
 
 164
 
 MARY LOU'S MARRYIN' 
 
 Alice sprang up enchanted, and dragged 
 him into the light which streamed from one 
 of the windows. 
 
 " Has you got blue eyes?" she demanded. 
 "De Pr'm-tess p'intedly said her husbun 
 mus' hab blue eyes." 
 
 " Bless her dear heart !" murmured Mr. 
 Hilary Bonner fatuously. 
 
 Hand in hand, the two oddly assorted 
 companions walked up to where Sara stood 
 alone. Alice's face, polished by her tears 
 into a glister resembling a kitchen stove, 
 was resplendent with generous enthusiasm. 
 
 " Dear Miss Prin-tess," she whispered, 
 " Santa Claw sont you a husbun wid blue 
 eyes, lake I done axed him !"
 
 THE STRIKE AT THE "BILLY 
 BOWLEGS"
 
 THE STRIKE AT THE "BILLY 
 BOWLEGS" 
 
 THE miners of the " Billy Bowlegs " had 
 struck. At twelve o'clock, on the 2oth of 
 December, two hundred of them, regardless 
 of the women's prayers and tears, walked 
 out. To be sure they might starve be- 
 fore the owners of the mine, Boston men, 
 would consider their claims and settle, for 
 Cactus Camp was only a mining hamlet in 
 Southern New Mexico ; but the miners had 
 ill-considered that possibility. The week 
 before, they had been visited by the editor 
 of the Labor War Cry, who had made sev- 
 eral speeches, in which he set forth their 
 wrongs. They were the sort of men who 
 nurse their wrath against capital for no 
 169
 
 STRIKE AT THE "BILLY BOWLEGS " 
 
 other reason than that they are poor and 
 others are rich. Unreasoning hatred against 
 a class of whom personally they know abso- 
 lutely nothing smouldered continually in 
 their minds. Anybody with a tongue in his 
 head could stir it up. It was always ready 
 and willing to leap into a flame at a breath. 
 Perhaps with these men of the " Billy Bow- 
 legs " the sight of the rich ore they mined 
 was a constant reminder that there were 
 people in the outside world who revelled in 
 the gold and silver their toil produced, and 
 of which they received such a meagre share. 
 But, more than all, it was the native anar- 
 chy which forever breeds in the souls of a 
 certain class in America, of which the miners 
 of the " Billy Bowlegs " were shining exam- 
 ples. 
 
 In this instance they considered that 
 they had a hold upon the mine -owners 
 which would serve to bring them to book. 
 It was that they had just struck the richest 
 vein of ore yet discovered in the rich " Bil- 
 ly Bowlegs." In these hard times, Peters, 
 the ringleader, urged upon the men that 
 the mine-owners would not be so foolish as 
 170
 
 STRIKE AT THE "BILLY BOWLEGS" 
 
 to stand out on the fifty-cents-a-day raise 
 which they demanded when this new vein 
 had just caused the stock to advance one 
 hundred and ten points. 
 
 There were but two men in Cactus Camp 
 whose fortunes would not be affected by 
 this strike. One was the telegraph-opera- 
 tor, and the other was the clerk in the gen- 
 eral store which purveyed to all the wants 
 of the miners. 
 
 The third day after the strike had been 
 declared, Carson, the clerk, closed up the 
 store and crossed the street to the tele- 
 graph-office. He often wished that this 
 telegraph-office, which was the one thing in 
 camp which was not in the grasp of the 
 store, could have been placed there, not 
 so much from the idea of greed, not be- 
 cause his department-store desired to be- 
 come the one monopoly of Cactus Camp, as 
 because he wanted company. There were 
 long, lonely nights in that isolated mining- 
 camp, and many of them when the friendly 
 clicking of the companionable little ma- 
 chine would have been almost as welcome 
 as a human voice. 
 
 171
 
 STRIKE AT THE "BILLY BOWLEGS " 
 
 Carson, although perhaps the loneliest 
 man in camp since his wife and baby died, 
 had been one of the most social. His 
 whole nature craved companionship, the 
 companionship of woman, and, failing that, 
 the companionship of man. He was said 
 to be " down on his luck." No one knew 
 his personal history, except that he and his 
 brother, in prospecting, had discovered the 
 "Billy Bowlegs." The ore on the surface 
 was not particularly compact, but, even 
 scattered though it was, it was so rich that 
 they considered that it was decidedly worth 
 while. They staked their claim, put all 
 their money into it, and took nothing out. 
 All the ore seemed to be on the surface. 
 Disappointed, yet hopeful with the hopeful 
 fever of mining, they borrowed money, and 
 went deeper deeper into the mine, and 
 deeper into debt. For six years they wast- 
 ed their time and their money in the mine, 
 until finally, disheartened, they offered the 
 mine and all their mining property to the 
 banker who had lent them five thousand 
 dollars. He demurred. He did not want 
 the mine. He did want his money. He 
 172
 
 STRIKE AT THE "BILLY BOWLEGS" 
 
 had more faith in it than they. He offered 
 to extend the loan, and let them have more, 
 but they refused. So they sold the " Billy 
 Bowlegs " for five thousand dollars. The 
 very next week not the next year, nor in 
 ten years, but the very next week the new 
 owners struck a vein which yielded a hundred 
 dollars a ton, and within a year the stock of 
 the "Billy Bowlegs" was the most valuable 
 in the market, and the share -holders were 
 on the high-road to fortune. 
 
 People forget easily. Few, even of the 
 miners who had heard this story, remem- 
 bered that Tom Carson, who lived so silent- 
 ly in their midst, had just missed fortune 
 by a hair's-breadth. Carson was the only 
 man in camp who had good reason to hate 
 the capitalists, who were gathering in the 
 millions which should have been his, or 
 who bore in his own soul a justification, if 
 such there be, for the anarchy which poi- 
 soned the camp. But, curiously enough, he 
 was the one man who was free from the 
 taint. Even Scott, the telegraph-operator, 
 who kept his views to himself, was thought 
 to be friendly to the strikers. 
 173
 
 STRIKE AT THE "BILLY BOWLEGS " 
 
 On this evening Carson went over to see 
 him. The machine clicked pleasantly on 
 the table. 
 
 "Hullo, Scott!" 
 
 " Hullo, Carson 1" 
 
 " Sort of nice, friendly, homey sound the 
 little fellow has," said Carson, jerking his 
 head in the direction of the machine. 
 " Seems the next best thing to hearin' the 
 tea-kettle a-singin' on the stove." 
 
 " Hum ! Guess you wouldn't say it sound- 
 ed like no tea-kettle if you heard the mes- 
 sage it ticked .off just before you came in. 
 It's to Peters, in answer to the letter he 
 sent the boss three days ago." 
 
 " What does he say ? Does he give 'em 
 the raise ?" 
 
 "Raise? Not much. He gives 'em 
 the devil. He says, ' Troops from Fort 
 Bliss ordered to Cactus Camp. Absolute- 
 ly 'no other reply. Withdraw demand or 
 fight.' " 
 
 "Good Lord, you mustn't give 'em that 
 
 message !" exclaimed Carson, anxiously. 
 
 " It'll be like a spark to powder. They are 
 
 just crazy enough, with the whiskey and the 
 
 174
 
 STRIKE AT THE "BILLY BOWLEGS" 
 
 women cryin' and beggin' 'em to back down, 
 to fight like Injuns." 
 
 " Not give 'em the message ? I got to 
 give it to 'em. I can't keep the thing back. 
 Besides, what's the use ? My not tellin' 'em 
 wouldn't keep the troops away." 
 
 " That's so," said Carson, thoughtfully. 
 
 " Seems to me that's a mighty short, 
 sharp message to send the boys, slap-dab, 
 without any temporizin' or soft solder first 
 to let 'em down easy. It '11 make' em crazy." 
 
 " I suppose it's all along of the Lead- 
 ville and Cripple Creek troubles. The boss 
 means to begin where the other fellows left 
 off. Well, it will only end things for every- 
 body quicker." 
 
 Scott glanced at Carson hastily. Car- 
 son's chair was tilted back against the wall, 
 his chin was bent forward on his chest, and 
 his hands were dug down deep into the 
 pockets of his trousers. He was staring 
 moodily at the floor. 
 
 " Sorter down on your luck to-night, old 
 man, aren't you ?" 
 
 " 'Tain't my luck," returned Carson, 
 moodily. " I was thinkin about Jim." 
 '75
 
 STRIKE AT THE "BILLY BOWLEGS " 
 
 " What about Jim ?" 
 
 " Don't you know ? Why, two weeks ago 
 he sent for his wife and baby. He's been 
 savin' up for a year to do it, and she at 
 home in Maine, waitin' to get word to 
 come. She packed up the minute she got 
 the letter, sold all the stuff except what she 
 was goin' to bring, and started the very day 
 of the strike. She ought to be here to-mor- 
 row. Just think what she's comin' to ! Jim 
 out of a job, and so sick he can hardly 
 stand you know he's got consumption, and 
 maybe she's comin' here to starve." 
 
 " Lord, that's tough !" exclaimed Scott. 
 " If there is to be fightin', she stands two 
 chances of bein' a widow. Don't see how 
 she can miss it exactly." 
 
 " The baby is just three years old, Jim 
 says," added Carson. 
 
 " That so ?" said Scott, vaguely. 
 
 " Mine was just that old when he died," 
 said Carson, gently. 
 
 " Didn't know you ever had one," said 
 Scott, awkwardly. 
 
 " Didn't you ?" said Carson, raising his 
 head. " Oh yes, you did. You must have 
 176
 
 STRIKE AT THE "BILLY BOWLEGS " 
 
 known, but you've forgotten. It doesn't 
 mean much to a man when, a baby dies, un- 
 less it's his baby. Why, the mine's named 
 for him! My wife named it. She had a 
 sight of fun in her. I used to call the little 
 chap ' Billy Bowlegs,' because his little legs 
 weren't quite straight when he was born 
 they grew straight before he walked, though 
 and Katie said, when we struck ore, 
 ' Let's call it the " Billy Bowlegs." It may 
 bring us luck.' So we did. She was the 
 merriest -hearted little woman you ever 
 saw." 
 
 " What's become of her 1" asked Scott, 
 sympathetically. 
 
 " Dead," said Carson, shortly. 
 
 Scott was silent from embarrassment. 
 He had never heard Carson talk in this 
 way before. 
 
 "Yes, everybody belongin' to me is 
 dead. As fur as I am concerned, it makes 
 no difference whether this strike is on or 
 off. My job is secure, and so is yours. It's 
 just my luck to be safe from harm now 
 that I'm all alone, and nobody to share it 
 or care whether I live or die. There's Jim, 
 M 177
 
 STRIKE AT THE "BILLY BOWLEGS " 
 
 now. I declare I'm a little tender when I 
 think of Jim's wife and the baby. I wish 
 we could do something." 
 
 " Do you know what night it is?" asked 
 Scott. 
 
 Carson glanced at the calendar. 
 
 " Christmas eve !" he exclaimed. " Christ- 
 mas eve ! Four years ago we were just get- 
 tin' ready for the biggest Christmas tree for 
 our little feller, with candles on it, and cran- 
 berries and pop-corn enough to set a child 
 crazy to look at it, an' he never lived to see 
 it. Took sick and died as quick as that. 
 I've always wished I could see some little 
 fellow's eyes shine over a Christmas tree 
 like we were goin' to give Billy. Do you 
 think we could get up one for Jim's baby ?" 
 
 " I s'pose we could get it up all right, but 
 what would be the good, with him out of a 
 job and the strike on ?" 
 
 " Well, if you'll just hold that message 
 over till to-morrow night, we could give 'em 
 one Christmas that they'd never forget, 
 even if it was over most before they knew 
 it. Will you ?" 
 
 " I don't know as there would be any 
 178
 
 STRIKE AT THE "BILLY BOWLEGS" 
 
 harm," said Scott, dubiously. "They can't 
 send anywhere for arms or ammunition. 
 We're too fur away from the railroad. I 
 don't see who could be hurt by it." 
 
 " I don't, either. And it does seem a pity 
 to spoil Christmas. It comes so seldom. 
 I declare I'd just like to see that little fel- 
 ler's eyes when he sees the tree I'd make 
 for him. I'll make it just as near like the 
 one I made four years ago as two peas. I'll 
 say, will you help ?" 
 
 " Yes, I will, by George !" cried Scott. 
 "I'll hold this message over, if I lose my 
 job for it ! Shall we tell Jim ?" 
 
 " Of course, let's tell Jim. Half the fun 
 will be in letting old Jim help. Come on 
 over to the store. I'll open her up and get 
 the things out now." 
 
 " No, I'll go and cut the tree." 
 
 " Do you think you'll get the right kind ? 
 Mine was about so high and straight. 
 You'll find some over by the " 
 
 " I know I know," said Scott, hastily. 
 " No wonder Carson ain't a success," he 
 thought, as the other hurried away. " No- 
 body ever is that's so took up with other 
 179
 
 STRIKE AT THE "BILLY BOWLEGS" 
 
 people's troubles and other people's Christ- 
 mases the way he is. You've got to stick 
 to business and look out for Number One, 
 and let the other fellow go to the devil, if 
 you expect to make anything in this world. 
 Lord, what a God -forsaken spot a mining- 
 camp is on Christmas !" 
 
 He took an axe and a lantern. Then he 
 went out and made his way to the grave- 
 yard to cut his Christmas tree. 
 
 Carson went out to get Jim. He found 
 him in his little cabin, coughing and shiver- 
 ing in spite of the mild weather. His gen- 
 tle eyes were feverishly bright, and his thin 
 form was almost racked to pieces with every 
 cough. 
 
 " Come in, Carson, come in," he said, 
 eagerly. " It does me good to have you 
 drop in. I was thinking I shouldn't get 
 much sleep to-night. I'm too excited over 
 Mollie's coming, and the baby's. I call 
 him the baby yet, but he must be too big 
 for that now." 
 
 180
 
 STRIKE AT THE "BILLY BOWLEGS" 
 
 "You sure she'll be here to-morrow?" 
 asked Carson. 
 
 " Sure ! I've heard from her. She came 
 on the train I expected, and hurried right 
 on. Fresno has seen her. He got to camp 
 to-night. He said she was well, and that 
 she was pretty. Fresno actually said that, 
 and he said the boy was a peach. He said 
 she was so excited at getting here that he 
 never told her about the strike. He said 
 he guessed she'd know soon enough." 
 
 Carson's mind was filled with her. 
 Young, pretty, and excited with the idea of 
 seeing her husband that poor, shrunken 
 figure, hovering over the fire with his trans- 
 parent fingers held out to the blaze. 
 
 " Seems to me you're worse to - night, 
 Jim." 
 
 " Me ? Of course I'm worse ! Why 
 shouldn't I be worse to give poor Mollie 
 the most forlorn welcome possible. The 
 doctor says this mining is killing me. I 
 got better the first few months I was West. 
 Then I took to mining, and I've got worse 
 ever since. The climate alone would cure 
 me if I could take advantage of it." 
 181
 
 STRIKE AT THE "BILLY BOWLEGS" 
 
 " I believe it would. It's cured worse 
 cases than yours. Say, Jim, I've been 
 thinkin' about goin' back East to my folks, 
 only I don't know of anybody I'd care to 
 leave the store with. Do you believe you'd 
 like that job ?" 
 
 Jim got up and crossed over to Carson 
 with a fierce, wild glare of eagerness in his 
 face. 
 
 "Like it ?" he cried. "Like it ? Why, old 
 man, I'd rather have it than anything else 
 in the world ! Do you mean it ? Oh, to 
 think that I haven't brought Mollie and the 
 baby here to starve !" 
 
 He wrung Carson's hand. Then he sat 
 down and buried his face in his hands. His 
 thin shoulders heaved. 
 
 " Look here, Jim ! Don't do that. I've 
 got another little scheme. Scott's gone out 
 to cut a Christmas tree, and we thought if 
 you'd brace up and help us we'd rig up a 
 tree for the boy to-morrow that would please 
 your wife. We must show her that she 
 hasn't come to the jumping-off place." 
 
 Young. Pretty. With blue eyes, per- 
 haps, like Katie's. And the boy? He 
 182
 
 STRIKE AT THE "BILLY BOWLEGS" 
 
 wondered if he would remind him of 
 Billy. 
 
 Jim's exclamation of delight roused him. 
 
 " Come on, then ! Let's go over to the 
 store and get the things. I I've got my 
 mind about made up as to how we can 
 trim the tree. Can you string cranber- 
 ries ?" 
 
 " Can I ? I've strung barrels of them 
 back in the State of Maine. And pop-corn, 
 too." 
 
 " That's the ticket !" cried Carson, de- 
 lightedly, hunching his great form along 
 beside Jim's slight one. " I declare, you 
 look better already, old man. I believe 
 you'll get well in spite of all we can do to 
 kill you off." 
 
 Jim laughed gleefully. The sound fell 
 curiously on the sullen air of Cactus Camp. 
 A door opened as they passed, and a wom- 
 an thrust her head out to see who could 
 feel like laughing at such a time as that. 
 Her grim face relaxed when she saw Jim. 
 She thought, because of his wife and child, 
 that he was the only one in Cactus Camp 
 so privileged. " And God knows he has 
 '83
 
 STRIKE AT THE "BILLY BOWLEGS " 
 
 little enough call to laugh," she said to her- 
 self, as she closed the door. 
 
 " Who was that ?" asked Carson. 
 
 " It was Peters's wife. Poor woman ! 
 She knows Peters is off somewhere with 
 the boys drinking, and trying to bolster 
 himself up for the fight." 
 
 " What fight ?" asked Carson, apprehen- 
 sively. 
 
 "I mean the strike," explained Jim. 
 
 "Oh," said Carson. 
 
 They came to the store. 
 
 Carson unlocked it and entered. He 
 struck a light and held it over his head. 
 His rugged face had an expression of satis- 
 faction upon it which made it good to look 
 upon. 
 
 He poked around, scooping up cranber- 
 ries and sugar ; measuring out cochineal ; 
 doing up eggs and pop-corn ; counting out 
 candles, and even taking out of the show- 
 case a box of store-candy from Denver. 
 
 Then, burdened with all these breakable 
 articles, the two n\en made their slow way 
 over the uneven ground back to Jim's 
 cabin. 
 
 184
 
 STRIKE AT THE " BILLY BOWLEGS " 
 
 As they passed Peters's cabin they heard 
 the sound of sobs. 
 
 They crept up to the door and listened. 
 The thought was in the mind of each that 
 possibly Peters had come home drunk, and 
 was beating his wife. The thing had hap- 
 pened before. But this time they only 
 heard a woman's sobs and broken prayers 
 to the Virgin. Her wretchedness over her 
 situation seemed complete enough without 
 the thought of Peters's return, who, as ring- 
 leader in the strike, was at the bottom of 
 all this misery. There were some who 
 declared that they could hold out six 
 months. 
 
 Carson and Jim crept away from the 
 door, and reached Jim's cabin in silence. 
 
 They found Scott waiting for them with 
 a Christmas tree which exactly met Car- 
 son's requirements. 
 
 "That's it! That's the ticket!" he ex- 
 claimed. " I couldn't have got a better one 
 if I'd gone after it myself. Say, Jim, isn't 
 that a beauty ? Now nail these here things 
 together, Scott, to make it stand up, and 
 just trim it off a little on the bottom while 
 185
 
 STRIKE AT THE "BILLY BOWLEGS " 
 
 Jim strings the cranberries and I pop the 
 corn. This is goin' to be exactly like like 
 one I made a long time ago." 
 
 Jim was too much overcome at the sight 
 of those two big men working about his lit- 
 tle cabin, making a Christmas tree for his 
 boy, to begin the task that Carson had set 
 for him. 
 
 He sat helplessly watching them. The 
 blows of Scott's hammer deafened him, and 
 the odor of Carson's pop-corn filled the 
 room. 
 
 " I declare, boys " he began, brokenly. 
 Tears gathered in his eyes. 
 
 " Say, Scott," broke in Carson, nervous- 
 ly," guess who is at home with her chil- 
 dren, cryin' and sayin' prayers to the Vir- 
 gin instead of eggin' the other women on 
 the way she did in the last strike ?" 
 
 " Not Em Peters ?" 
 
 " The same. What's got into her, do you 
 s'pose ?" 
 
 "I guess she got enough of strikes two 
 
 years ago," said Jim, "when 'she and her 
 
 children nearly starved to death before the 
 
 thing was settled. She was the worst of the 
 
 186
 
 STRIKE AT THE "BILLY BOWLEGS " 
 
 lot that time. She was out -doors day and 
 night, egging the men on and urging the 
 other women to back their husbands up. 
 Peters was a quiet enough sort of man then. 
 He had to be egged on all the time. Now, 
 I guess, she sees the result of her work. It's 
 Peters that started this strike. But he is 
 keeping up his nerve on whiskey. I don't 
 believe his sand will hold out." 
 
 " Is that so ?" said Scott, pricking up his 
 ears. " I thought he was a good deal of a 
 devil." 
 
 " Not a bit of it. If anybody could get 
 on the right side of Peters, I believe he'd 
 back down, and the rest would follow like a 
 flock of sheep." 
 
 " You don't say so." 
 
 " It's too bad there isn't somebody in 
 camp that's got the gift of gab, who could 
 talk to them. I wish the boss knew as 
 much of the men as I do. He'd send out 
 somebody who could handle them like putty. 
 But they think he will show fight, and they 
 are fixing to play a waiting game. They 
 don't believe he will call out the troops the 
 way they did at Leadville, because he is too 
 187
 
 STRIKE AT THE "BILLY BOWLEGS " 
 
 anxious to mine. They expect to stand a 
 siege." 
 
 Carson and Scott looked at each other. 
 
 " Well, what if he does order out the 
 troops ?" said Carson. 
 
 " Oh, he won't," rejoined Jim. " At least 
 not till after he's talked and talked. 
 They've struck before. They know what 
 to expect. He'll have to give in sooner 
 or later. They are not afraid of being 
 killed. That's always the last thing, you 
 know. They will have plenty of time to 
 brace up for that." 
 
 "Well, what would happen," said Car- 
 son, in a curious tone, watching the gen- 
 tle expression on Jim's girlish face, " if the 
 boss got troops ordered out the first thing 
 and didn't give them any time to think or 
 brace each other up or to talk? Suppose he 
 just fired on them. What then ?" 
 
 "Oh, they'd be killed lots of them," 
 said Jim, quietly " lots of them, that were 
 just led into it by others. Lots of the com- 
 paratively innocent. These men can't fight. 
 They can only throw stones and shout. 
 They are not brave. They are stubborn. 
 188
 
 STRIKE AT THE "BILLY BOWLEGS" 
 
 Oh, yes, they would be killed, but there 
 wouldn't be any more strikes." 
 
 Jim's gentle voice fell with an ominous 
 note upon the ears of Scott and Carson, with 
 the knowledge of the suppressed telegram 
 in their minds. 
 
 " Too bad to have your wife come just 
 now," said Scott, to change the subject, 
 " when you are out of a job." 
 
 " Oh, I am all right," said Jim, placidly, 
 while a beaming smile broke over his face. 
 " Carson, here, is going back East to see his 
 folks, and he is going to give me his job. 
 Did you ever hear of such a piece of good- 
 luck for Mollie and the baby?" 
 
 Carson waved the corn-popper at Scott 
 over Jim's unconscious head. Scott looked 
 at the happy light on Jim's face as he busied 
 himself with his homely task, and then at 
 Carson's huge shoulders and shaggy head. 
 He remembered that glimpse of his heart 
 Carson had given him but a few hours be- 
 fore. He thought of the arrival of Jim's 
 wife and boy. He thought of Emma Peters 
 weeping alone in her cabin, and of the tele- 
 gram hanging over the heads of them all. 
 189
 
 STRIKE AT THE "BILLY BOWLEGS " 
 
 If only somebody who could talk some- 
 body who could do it right could tell those 
 men what was going on in their midst. A 
 sudden thought thrilled him. He wondered 
 if he could do it ? He was not gifted with 
 speech, but was speech necessary ? 
 
 " Say, you fellows," he said, getting up 
 and stretching himself, " you will have to 
 finish this blooming thing by yourselves. 
 When it's done, I'll come and look at it 
 and pat you on the heads if it is well done. 
 And, Jim, I'll bring a present to hang on it 
 for Mollie and the baby." 
 
 Ill 
 
 As if afraid that his courage might waver, 
 Scott hurried to Pedro's, where he knew he 
 should find Peters and most of the others. 
 Some of the miners, the best or the most 
 timid, were at home with their wives. The 
 most of the men at Pedro's had no wives. 
 Peters was an exception. 
 
 He was greeted with a shout as he en- 
 tered. 
 
 190
 
 STRIKE AT THE "BILLY BOWLEGS" 
 
 " Have you come to join us ?" two or 
 three asked. 
 
 " Yes," he said. 
 
 " Good ! Good !" they said, crowding 
 around him. 
 
 " In a drink," he added, with a grin. 
 
 He caught them just right. They fell 
 back with a roar at his joke and demanded 
 to hear his order. 
 
 " Lord knows I need it," he said, tossing 
 it down and ordering another. " I've just 
 about had the ghostly jim-jams." 
 
 He fixed his eye on Peters as if address- 
 ing him, and Peters, like all weak nat- 
 ures, yielded to his influence and moved 
 nearer. 
 
 "What's the matter?" 
 
 "Why, Carson discovered that it was 
 Christmas eve a little while ago, and what 
 do you think he did ?" 
 
 " Don't know. Tell us." 
 
 " By the way, did you know it was Christ- 
 mas eve ?" he demanded suddenly of the 
 flushed faces thrust closely around his. 
 
 They shrank back and looked down, 
 nervously picking at their coat - sleeves. 
 191
 
 STRIKE AT THE "BILLY BOWLEGS" 
 
 Christmas eve ! The words brought back 
 memories to all of them. 
 
 " You know, Carson is a big, soft-hearted 
 old codger, that would walk two miles to 
 keep from hurting even a buzzard, and I 
 guess he got to thinking what an infernal 
 Christmas the women and the kids in this 
 God-forsaken camp are going to have to- 
 morrow. No Christmas trees, no toys, no 
 presents of any kind Why, blame it all, it 
 kind o' gets me to think that / ain't going 
 to have a Christmas present. Not one per- 
 son in all this world is going to think of me 
 to-morrow. I tell you, boys, those of you 
 who've got wives here, and who've got 
 sweethearts anywhere, better be sorry for 
 poor devils like us who haven't got even 
 the love of a prairie-dog. 
 
 " Well, as I was saying, Carson came over 
 and sort of opened up on me about his 
 Christmas four years ago, when he had a 
 wife and baby. He was rigging up the 
 bloomingest kind of Christmas tree for the 
 kid, all hung with strings of cranberries and 
 pop-corn, and lighted with candles, fit to 
 make a' child's eyes pop out of his head to 
 192
 
 STRIKE AT THE "BILLY BOWLEGS" 
 
 see it, and right in the midst of it the little 
 feller took sick and died." 
 
 Scott paused and searched the faces of the 
 men. They were listening intently. Not one 
 was drinking. 
 
 " Didn't know Carson was married," said 
 Peters. 
 
 " Neither did I. Or, at least, I'd forgot- 
 ten. But when he mentioned it, I remem- 
 bered that the mine was named after his 
 boy." 
 
 " The Billy Bovvlegs !" exclaimed Fresno. 
 " It was, sure enough. Carson and his 
 brother discovered it. They worked it for 
 years, and the week after they sold out it 
 began to pan out like blazes. If Carson 
 had held on a week longer, all this stuff 
 would 'a' been his, and he'd be the boss we 
 are fighting." 
 
 " You'd never fight Carson when you hear 
 the rest," said Scott, shaking his head. 
 
 " Go on," said Peters. 
 
 " Well, the upshot of it was that he was 
 
 down on his luck with this here coming of 
 
 Jim's wife and baby, and the tough luck of 
 
 her coming on Christmas Day and finding 
 
 N 193
 
 STRIKE AT THE "BILLY BOWLEGS " 
 
 the strike on, and the camp in such a fix. 
 Carson takes other people's troubles to 
 heart as if they was his own. He declared 
 Jim was goin' to die, and wasn't it the mean- 
 est sort of lines for that poor little woman 
 to have saved up for so long, and for Jim 
 to have saved up, and skimped, and not 
 eaten half he ought to, just to get her out 
 here quicker, and then to have her come to 
 this. I just wish you could 'a' heard Car- 
 son take on. You'd 'a' thought this strike 
 was the worst thing that ever struck the 
 world since the flood. You'd 'a' thought 
 Mollie and the baby were his own wife and 
 boy he was grievin' after. You'd V thought 
 we were all a set of cannibals or heathens 
 to do anything towards carryin' this fight on 
 while that poor little woman was comin' all 
 the way from the State of Maine, headed 
 straight for the perdition of Cactus Camp. 
 I declare I felt as though there was blood 
 on my hands. Poor Carson ! Anybody 'd 
 think Jim's wife was the only woman to be 
 thought of. I guess you've got wives, some 
 of you fellows, that haven't got a much 
 pleasanter Christmas to look forward to." 
 194
 
 STRIKE AT THE "BILLY BOWLEGS" 
 
 He stopped and glanced around. The 
 men looked down in confusion and kicked 
 at the sanded floor. 
 
 "The little woman is pretty," said Fresno, 
 suddenly. " I saw her yesterday. She was 
 'most wild to get to Jim. And the boy say, 
 but he's a hummer." 
 
 " Did you tell her about the strike ?" 
 asked Peters, anxiously. 
 
 " No, I didn't. I lied handsome. I said 
 Jim was well and the camp never better. 
 Poor little thing ! She'll find out soon 
 enough. Mesquite Dan is bringing them 
 in his wagon. They'll be here to-mor- 
 row." 
 
 A dead silence fell. None of the bravado 
 of an hour ago was visible. 
 
 Scott saw his advantage and hurried on. 
 
 "Well, sir, after a while, Carson got so 
 worked up that nothing would do but he 
 must rig up a Christmas tree exactly like 
 the one he was making four years ago to- 
 night for his own little feller, and have it 
 ready to-morrow for Jim's. He sent me 
 after dark to the graveyard to cut one of 
 those baby pines, and he opened up the
 
 STRIKE AT THE "BILLY BOWLEGS" 
 
 store and got the candles and stuff, and he's 
 over there at Jim's now, trimmin' it !" 
 
 " Well, I swan !" said Fresno. 
 
 " Let's go and see him," said Scott. " We 
 can look through the window." 
 
 " All right," they exclaimed. 
 
 There were fourteen of them. 
 
 "Jim won't live six months," said Peters, 
 sullenly. 
 
 "Oh, I forgot to tell you that Carson is 
 going back East ' to see his folks,' he says, 
 but he has given Jim his job." 
 
 A chorus of exclamations greeted this an- 
 nouncement. Those men were quicker to 
 recognize and appreciate a fine deed than 
 their more civilized brothers. Smiles played 
 over their countenances. Gentler expres- 
 sions came into their eyes. Carson was a 
 hero among them. If he had been there 
 they would have given him three cheers. 
 
 "Jim '11 get well now that he's put of the 
 mine," said Fresno. 
 
 Scott purposely took them by Peters's 
 cabin. 
 
 " Hold on. What's that ?" asked Fresno 
 as they came near. 
 
 196
 
 STRIKE AT THE "BILLY BOWLEGS " 
 
 " Oh, it's only one of the women takin' 
 on over the strike," said Scott, carelessly. 
 
 When they reached Jim's cabin, they 
 stealthily crept up and peered in at the 
 window one at a time, then fell back into 
 the shadow. Scott cautioned them to be 
 quiet or they would get caught. 
 
 Peters was the last. As he fell back, he 
 drew the back of his hand across his eyes, 
 and blew his nose tempestuously. 
 
 " Stop that, you old fool," said Fresno, 
 savagely, treading on his foot. 
 
 "I've got a cold," explained Peters, in a 
 hoarse whisper. 
 
 "Well, take it out and lose it," com- 
 manded Fresno. " We don't want to get 
 caught in this. But say, boys, wasn't it 
 pretty? It looked just like the one my 
 mother made for me once when I was a 
 little chap." 
 
 " I remember I had one, too," said Peters. 
 " My kids never saw such a tree." 
 
 " Why don't you make 'em one ?" asked 
 Scott. 
 
 " With this strike on ?" demanded Peters. 
 And as they again neared his cabin he add- 
 197
 
 STRIKE AT THE "BILLY BOWLEGS " 
 
 ed, " Does that sound much like Christmas 
 to hear Em goin' on like that ?" 
 
 " Oh, let's give up the blamed thing," 
 said Fresno. " What's the use of letting 
 Jim's wife be the only happy woman in 
 camp to-morrow. Go on in, Peters, and tell 
 Em to dry up, and let's all have a Christ- 
 mas !" 
 
 Scott held his breath. 
 
 Fetors hesitated, then turned in at his 
 doorway. 
 
 "Hooray !" cried Scott. " Come on, boys. 
 I'll open up the office and telegraph the 
 boss that the deal is off. You'll all get 
 more out of it in the end." 
 
 Carson and Jim heard the noise and came 
 out, running. They heard the news, and they, 
 too, joined the shouting. And it was not 
 long until the whole camp- was out in vari- 
 ous stages of undress to join the others in 
 shouting as loudly because the strike was 
 off as yesterday they had shouted because it 
 was on. They were indeed like sheep. 
 
 Scott lighted up the telegraph-office and 
 wired the message to Boston before they 
 had time to reconsider. 
 I9 8
 
 STRIKE AT THE "BILLY BOWLEGS " 
 
 Carson was called on to unlock the store 
 for the second time that night for Christmas- 
 tree supplies. The women stood around 
 with shawls over their heads, unable to 
 comprehend the sudden and wonderful 
 change. Christmas ! It meant nothing to 
 them. 
 
 " Just wait," the men said. 
 
 Mysterious noises and lights kept the 
 camp uneasy aH the rest of the night. 
 Hard faces relaxed and grew tender over, 
 the sweet old - fashioned thoughts which 
 came thronging in with memories of long- 
 forgotten childhoods. 
 
 When Christmas morning dawned in Cac- 
 tus Camp, and Mollie and the baby came, 
 they were met by Jim and Carson and Scott, 
 and taken post-haste to see the tree. 
 
 Carson slapped his leg every time he 
 thought of it. The boy wouldn't even leave 
 the tree long enough to eat his dinner. 
 Carson had the satisfaction of seeing just 
 " how a little feller's eyes would shine at 
 the sight of that tree." 
 
 By night there was not a tree left in the 
 graveyard. 
 
 199
 
 A WOMAN OF NO NERVES
 
 A WOMAN OF NO NERVES 
 
 AUNT ANN lived in Deerfield, Massachu- 
 setts, and after I had seen her I knew that she 
 could have come from nowhere else. There 
 was something about her which suggested 
 Deerfield. Her appearance indicated long, 
 slow streets, noble, dignified trees, and green 
 meadows full of a benevolent content. She 
 could not have come from Poughkeepsie 
 or Hackensack or Yonkers. These names 
 were not in keeping with Aunt Ann, who 
 was mild-eyed, capacious, contemplative. 
 
 Aunt Ann was unmarried, and must have 
 been about thirty-eight. She still possessed 
 the delicate bloom on her plump cheeks 
 with which New England loves to bless her 
 daughters. Of ample but not unsightly pro- 
 portions was Aunt Ann, with the gentle, di- 
 rect gaze of an Alderney cow a cow in a 
 203
 
 A WOMAN OF NO NERVES 
 
 clover pasture, imbued with the meditative 
 atmosphere of Deerfield, Massachusetts. 
 
 She was almost beautiful, and there was 
 a Sabbath calm in her presence which led 
 one's thoughts, perhaps, not quite to religion, 
 but at least as far as ethics. 
 
 The first time I saw her she entered the 
 room where I had been ill, and simply looked 
 at me out of the dimness a steady, steady- 
 ing look which got me my bearings and 
 gave me something tangible to hold on to. 
 She had a bovine effect upon me which was 
 most agreeable. Then she went away with- 
 out whispering to mamma to tease my curi- 
 osity, and when she spoke she spoke aloud. 
 I heard her laugh in the next room, a deep- 
 throated, comfortable laugh, with a note of 
 contagion in it, causing a shadow of a smile 
 to pass over my own face. 
 
 For days I did not see her again, but I 
 heard her step in the hall, slow, measured. 
 I knew that her shoes were comfortable 
 from their almost inaudible creak, as if her 
 whole weight rested easily upon each sole 
 as she walked. 
 
 I had so dreaded the advent of this maid- 
 204
 
 A WOMAN OF NO NERVES 
 
 en aunt from New England that I was agree- 
 ably surprised thus to learn to like her 
 through closed doors. I found myself long- 
 ing for the calm personality which I sup- 
 posed must accompany these symptoms of 
 pleasantness. When she came, her gentle 
 touch quieted me. Her even, steady tones 
 were inexpressibly soothing. I liked to feel 
 her smooth the pillows. 
 
 But as I grew slowly better I discovered 
 that there was a board in the floor which 
 suddenly developed an exasperating squeak, 
 a reluctant, long-drawn sound which nearly 
 drove me wild. Aunt Ann never failed to 
 step on that particular board. I found my- 
 self, from the moment of her entrance, dread- 
 ing to have her reach, tread upon, and re- 
 lease that complaining bit of the floor. In 
 vain I reminded her in advance. She for- 
 got, and never seemed to hear it. She could 
 rock on it for an hour with no hint from her 
 own sleeping nerves that she was driving 
 the more sensitive frantic. And then, to 
 my despair, for I honestly loved her, I dis- 
 covered that Aunt Ann never could sit very 
 long without jingling two of her rings to- 
 205
 
 A WOMAN OF NO NERVES 
 
 gether or fingering her bunch of keys or 
 tapping her thimble on wood. When she 
 was a child I suppose she wrote with a slate- 
 pencil which but why refer to a sound 
 more horrible in my ears than the wail of a 
 lost soul ? 
 
 She came in one morning to sit with me, 
 with a roll of white cotton cloth in her 
 hand, which she quietly unfolded and be- 
 gan to tear into long, narrow strips. With 
 an angry, snarling rasp the threads yielded, 
 and Aunt Ann, with her plump arms sepa- 
 rated to their fullest extent, complacently 
 tore and tore and tore that awful cloth un- 
 til, in my weak state, I burst into a flood of 
 childish tears. 
 
 " What is the matter, dear ?" asked Aunt 
 Ann, dropping her work and coming towards 
 me. She stopped and looked back. 
 
 " Was I rocking on that board ?" 
 
 I shook my head and began to laugh hys- 
 terically. It was so absurd of her not to 
 hear those dreadful sounds. 
 
 " It was it was the cloth," I managed to 
 say. " It makes me shiver so. How can 
 you stand it yourself ?" 
 206
 
 A WOiMAN OF NO NERVES 
 
 " Such trifles never disturb me," she an- 
 swered, helplessly, " and I can't tell when 
 you are nervous." 
 
 " But I am always nervous. It is not be- 
 cause I have been ill." 
 
 " It is such people as you who are always 
 having nervous prostration," she answered. 
 " You burn up with inward fires. It is very 
 bad for you. I never was ill in my life." 
 
 She was on her knees beside me, smooth- 
 ing my hair and holding both my thin hands 
 in one warm, steady palm. 
 
 " You are very good to me," I murmured, 
 gratefully. 
 
 " You remind me of some one," she said, 
 with a far-away note in her voice as of one 
 who recalls something out of a tender past. 
 For reply I only pressed her hand feebly. 
 A strange, fluttering look swept the placid- 
 ity from her face. " You are so like him !" 
 she whispered, suddenly, with the subdued 
 excitement of those who never yield their 
 self-control except when it is wrested from 
 them by a force from within. 
 
 We had been strangely drawn together 
 from the first, Aunt Ann and I, for, not- 
 207
 
 A WOMAN OF NO NERVES 
 
 withstanding our wide difference in temper- 
 ament, there was a keen bond of sympathy 
 between us, so I was not greatly surprised 
 that she should speak to me of the lover of 
 her youth, whose existence we sometimes 
 had doubted and whose name we never had 
 known. 
 
 " When he was ill at our house," she pro- 
 ceeded, with a pathetic idea that I knew of 
 whom she would speak, because he had 
 been so great a factor in her life, " so long 
 ago, we were talking one morning while I 
 was working on my china - painting, when 
 something I never knew what, grown man 
 that he was made him burst out crying like 
 a child. He was so weak, dear, and had 
 been so very ill." 
 
 A note of apology for her lover's lack of 
 strength crept into Aunt Ann's voice. 
 
 " Of course ; I know. When one has 
 been ill " I said. 
 
 She stroked my hand gratefully. 
 
 " I was young then, and it frightened 
 
 choked me. I ran to him and dropped the 
 
 plate I had been burnishing. I have it yet, 
 
 broken in two pieces. I knelt down by the 
 
 208
 
 A WOMAN OF NO NERVES 
 
 couch and he took my hand, just as you did, 
 and he pressed it with his poor, weak fingers, 
 just as you did. Oh ! you are so like him ! 
 But the pressure meant only gratitude for 
 my kindness. He had been ill and helpless 
 so long, and I had tried to amuse him and 
 occupy his mind. He was all fire and nerves 
 and cleverness. I had been of much use to 
 him. I seemed so strong and well beside 
 him. His weakness went to my heart. 
 Women's hearts are weak, I think, dear. 
 But he was only grateful, while I it was 
 more with me," she said, quietly. " He used 
 to say that I soothed him, that it rested him 
 to look at me. He said I would be just 
 like my mother at her age. He used to call 
 her his" benediction. 
 
 " But I had given him so much out of my 
 simple life. I did not know that he was 
 giving me only gratitude. Such an awful 
 sensation came over me when I realized it! 
 He had been talking of a woman to under- 
 stand him, the kind he needed, and I thought 
 he meant me. But he was thinking of some 
 one else. All at once I felt it, felt that he 
 could love, did love somebody, and I 
 o 209
 
 A WOMAN OF NO NERVES 
 
 never have felt anything since. I put all 
 thought of him away from me then, and on 
 the surface everything went on as usual. 
 But there was a difference. Sometimes I 
 think he saw the change in me and won- 
 dered, for I remember how, whenever I 
 looked at him, I always met his eyes. Then 
 he went away. I never saw him afterwards. 
 We heard from him, of course, for he was so 
 grateful. He had come with letters to us 
 from a dear friend, and had been taken ill at 
 our house, and, as was only natural, mother 
 cared for him through it all. He loved my 
 mother so beautifully. 
 
 " His letters were very sad sometimes, so 
 I used to think that his love for this other 
 woman was not a happy one. He mentioned 
 me, too, kindly, almost tenderly, but I never 
 allowed myself to think of what might have 
 been. That is all. It is little enough, isn't it? 
 So very little to last one's heart a lifetime ?" 
 
 " Dear Aunt Ann," I said, remorsefully, 
 " I'm so sorry I was silly enough to cry, and 
 remind you, and bring it all back. Please 
 to rock on that squeaky board and tear 
 some more cloth. I I like it !"
 
 A WOMAN OF NO NERVES 
 
 Aunt Ann laughed comfortably. Hers 
 must be a wholesome, healthful nature to be 
 able to laugh like that. 
 
 "It has done me good to speak of it. I 
 have been tempted to tell you ever since I 
 came. You are so like him." 
 
 She left me and sat down again, careful- 
 ly avoiding that board with a deprecating 
 glance at me that made us both smile. 
 
 And she never knew that after she had 
 rolled up the objectionable cloth she sat 
 tapping the arm of the chair with her thim- 
 ble for twenty-three minutes. 
 
 When I became well enough to come 
 down to the library, and Aunt Ann was still 
 with us, a friend of mine, the night editor of 
 The Sun- Dispatch, dropped in to see me. 
 The day was raw and cheerless, and he 
 begged me for a cup of tea. 
 
 " You poor little thing," he said, as I 
 busied myself with the cups. " You look 
 as if the draught through a keyhole would 
 blow you away." 
 
 He was a bundle of nerves himself, with 
 a thin, eager face, iron -gray hair brushed 
 back from sunken temples, and a smoulder-
 
 A WOMAN OF NO NERVES 
 
 ing fire in his eyes which told how his 
 strength went. When he sat down he had 
 an alarming way of sinking into his clothes 
 as if some day he might disappear from 
 sight altogether. I always was agreeably 
 surprised when he emerged. 
 
 He stretched a shaking hand out to take 
 his tea, and laughed apologetically. 
 
 " It might be the result of cigarettes or 
 intoxicating liquors or opium," he said, in 
 gay self-derision. " What a pity it is so 
 respectable a thing as lack of sleep." 
 
 I reached for the tongs to stir the fire, 
 and, setting them down carelessly, they fell 
 with a frightful clatter on the marble hearth. 
 
 He gave an expression of exasperated im- 
 patience. 
 
 " How cross you are !" I cried. Then 
 perhaps the shock to my own nerves, com- 
 bined with the look of physical pain between 
 his drawn brows, gave me an excuse to be 
 absurd, and tears started to my eyes. 
 
 " If you cry," he said, setting down his 
 
 cup with much deliberation, " I shall go 
 
 home and shoot myself, and I shall keep 
 
 on shooting myself until I am stone dead. 
 
 212
 
 A WOMAN OF NO NERVES 
 
 There ! That's right laugh. I deserve the 
 shock to iny vanity which it gives me to see 
 you laugh in pure delight at the idea of my 
 demise." 
 
 " You do, indeed, deserve it. I never knew 
 before that you were ill-tempered." 
 
 " Heaven forefend !" he exclaimed, bring- 
 ing his head out of collar to be more im- 
 pressive. " Never, with your fine sense of 
 discrimination, make the mistake of con- 
 founding ill-temper with raw nerves. One 
 is an infirmity ; the other an ailment." 
 
 " The result is the same, and both can be 
 cured," I answered, emphatically. 
 
 He dropped back into his chair with a 
 sigh. 
 
 " I wish I believed that, and, if true, I wish 
 I had known it twenty years ago." 
 
 "Why, would you have established a sana- 
 torium ?'' 
 
 He smiled. 
 
 " I would. A permanent one, for my own 
 exclusive cure, and with only one woman 
 needed for the entire staff of physicians." 
 
 " What do you mean ?" 
 
 " I gave up the only woman I ever loved 
 213
 
 A WOMAN OF NO NERVES 
 
 because she was born without a single nerve, 
 and because she never knew when she was 
 driving me to distraction. I had the cour- 
 age then to do it. Life was all before me, 
 and I did not know then that love comes 
 but once. I did not know how little real 
 love there is in the world. Oh, if men only 
 knew, they would be kinder to it when love- 
 does come ! Nor did I know how much I 
 myself cared. Without vulgarly formulating 
 the thought, I had the vague hope that I 
 would find another as sweet and pure and 
 true, who could comprehend that side of me 
 which she did not. But I never have found 
 her. And now when I look back I do not 
 call my folly courage. It was stupid igno- 
 rance and selfishness, and I have been just- 
 ly and even generously punished." 
 
 I was interested at once. 
 
 " How did she fret you ? What made her, 
 if she cared for you?" I questioned, with 
 hypocritical obtuseness, for my heart was 
 wildly beating with the hope that it might 
 have been Aunt Ann. Absurd, impossible, 
 ridiculous of me, but what if what if 
 
 " She did not care for me. Perhaps in 
 214
 
 A WOMAN OF NO NERVES 
 
 time she might have done so, but she never 
 knew. Fortunately, I was the only one who 
 suffered. The dear little woman !" 
 
 "Tell about it." 
 
 " What a delightful creature you are 1 
 What a gift to be so interested in people !" 
 he exclaimed, coming into view again to put 
 down his empty cup. 
 
 " Well, it was years ago. I often wonder 
 if she ever married. I wonder what kind 
 of a fellow she married. I hope he is good 
 to her. I should like to kill him if he isn't. 
 Years ago but that makes no difference. 
 I know just how she looks if she is alive to- 
 day. She looks as her mother did then, and 
 that would satisfy any man in his senses. If 
 men chose their wives oftener with regard 
 to the mothers' looks and characters, there 
 might be more marriages which retain their 
 flavor. Ann's mother was the most restful 
 picture your mind's eye can conceive, with 
 a sweet, wholesome, clean nature a fresh- 
 ness, a dewiness about her which seemed 
 continually to murmur of ' Green fields ! 
 Green fields!' 
 
 " I went to these dear people for rest af-
 
 A WOMAN OF NO NERVES 
 
 ter an exhaustive political campaign, and 
 1 never received more gracious hospitality 
 or met with kindness tempered with such 
 simple dignity. I repaid their courtesy by 
 pitching headlong to the floor in a faint, 
 which was the beginning of a tedious illness. 
 I begged, I implored to be removed, but the 
 stranger within their gates was to them a 
 brother to whom they established them- 
 selves keeper. I never shall forget their 
 kindness never. Even when I was quite 
 well, and wished to relieve them of an in- 
 valid presence, they would not permit it, and 
 they allowed me to convalesce at my leisure, 
 lying about the house on convenient couch- 
 es, and being coddled in the most delight- 
 ful way. 
 
 " It sounds perfect, doesn't it ? You 
 would think that the presence, the occa- 
 sional presence, of a lovely girl for their 
 dignity was of so perfect a type that Ann's 
 was only a rare and dearly prized advent 
 would lend an intoxication to invalidism. 
 She was like a June rose, and I know now 
 that I loved her. 
 
 " Sometimes I would feel myself almost 
 216
 
 A WOMAN OF NO NERVES 
 
 carried away, and that I must tell her about 
 it, but one thing prevented me. Do you 
 know that if she were in your place this 
 moment she could hear that ice -wagon 
 driving down this paved street at a gallop 
 and not even look up ? She could hear coal 
 put into the furnace all day long and not 
 shriek. If I ever commit suicide you will 
 find that both the ice-box and the furnace 
 are full. In fact, you needn't even look. 
 You will know ! 
 
 " Ann never worked as other girls did. 
 She used to bring her work into the room, 
 and there would always be some irritating, 
 maddening noise about it. Tell me, do girls 
 nowadays squeak and scrape things with- 
 out setting their own teeth on edge, like the 
 thought of lemon-juice ?" 
 
 " No. American girls of to - day are 
 all abundantly supplied with nerve gan- 
 glia." 
 
 " I am delighted to hear it. It is what 
 makes them so keenly sensitive, so adapta- 
 ble, so irresistibly sympathetic." 
 
 " In behalf of American girls," I said, 
 bowing, with my hand on my heart. 
 217
 
 A WOMAN OF NO NERVES 
 
 " Well, to proceed. I was a careless fel- 
 low then, without realizing it, and I must 
 have given their orderly natures a deal of 
 unnecessary disturbance. Many shiftings 
 have come with the years, and I am so im- 
 possibly neat now in these my old bachelor 
 days that I wish with grim amusement that 
 Ann could see a change of which she would 
 so heartily approve. 
 
 1 " I used to go through a pile of news- 
 papers and throw them in a heap on the 
 floor. Then, when Ann came, I would be- 
 gin a discourse on some subject in which 
 we were both interested and which required 
 all my nervous strength to talk about, and 
 as she listened she would smooth every 
 crease from those beastly papers, and fold 
 them, oh, so neatly ! Now you will think 
 me a brute when I tell you that not even the 
 added flush which came into her delicate 
 face from stooping, or the beauty of her 
 white hands, caused me for one moment to 
 forget the exasperating noise of those de- 
 testable papers. It almost distracted me. 
 The squeak of a chair or the rattling of a 
 chandelier or the jingling of ill -balanced 
 218
 
 A WOMAN OF NO NERVES 
 
 china on the sideboard never disturbed 
 either of those two women. 
 
 " One day I begged her to come and talk 
 to me, and she came with her work. She 
 had on a blue gown made of some thin stuff 
 is it muslin or lawn that you wear in the 
 morning? oh, well, dimity then ; with the 
 ruffles edged with lace. I see you smile at 
 my awkward attempt to usurp the preroga- 
 tive of the fashion editor, but a man who 
 never notices ladies' dress may sometimes 
 keenly remember the simple frock which his 
 sweetheart once wore, and in his memory 
 she always wears it and always looks the 
 same. 
 
 " I saw that she had a plate in her hand, 
 for she did china-painting, and in my eyes 
 did it very daintily. You will call me sen- 
 timental if I tell you that on this one she 
 had painted little wreaths of forget-me- 
 nots tied with pink ribbons. Forget-me- 
 nots and pink ribbons ! Doesn't it conjure 
 the whole scene and particularly the nature, 
 the soul of the girl ? Would any one but 
 Ann have painted out the bare whiteness of 
 the plate with so idyllic a theme ? Dear 
 219
 
 A WOMAN OF NO NERVES 
 
 heart ! dear heart ! I had almost made up 
 my mind to speak. We were talking imper- 
 sonally of the need of a certain man for 
 a certain woman, and each secretly, as I 
 thought, adapting the abstract phrases to 
 our concrete senses, when suddenly she took 
 up an emery pencil and began to burnish 
 the gold rim of the plate. Did you ever 
 hear the sound ? Get me a grindstone 
 and any little knife you want sharpened, 
 and I will form an accompaniment to this 
 conversation such as followed the only at- 
 tempt I ever made to make love to a girl." 
 
 There was an undercurrent of bitterness 
 to his half -bantering account which con- 
 vinced me of his sincere feeling. Occasion- 
 ally he lapsed from his effort at self-detach- 
 ment, and swerved to either extreme. When 
 a man is really indifferent he keeps his self- 
 control without effort. 
 
 He leaned forward with his elbows on his 
 knees, sinking again almost out of sight 
 with his face between his hands. 
 
 " Ye gods !" he shivered, " I can hear it 
 now, rasping and scraping the feeling from 
 my heart, and leaving a scar which is there 
 
 220
 
 A WOMAN OF NO NERVES 
 
 yet. If it had been any other woman in 
 the world I might have thought she suspect- 
 ed what I was going to say, and mechani- 
 cally seized upon the only thing at hand to 
 conceal her agitation. But not Ann. She 
 was not only without suspicion of my feel- 
 ing, but without any response to it. For 
 when out of sheer weakness and distraction 
 and uncontrol I gave way and burst into a 
 flood of nervous tears, like an hysterical girl, 
 Ann made the only hurried movement I ever 
 saw in her. She ran to me, dropping her 
 precious plate and breaking it right through 
 a little forget-me-not wreath. She knelt 
 down beside me and took one of my hot 
 hands between both her cool, pink palms. 
 I looked at her in amazement, undeniably 
 wishing that it might mean more than mere 
 womanly compassion, sweet though it was. 
 But her eyes met mine without swerving a 
 friendly, steadying gaze which brought me 
 to my senses like a dash of cold water. 
 
 " Neither said anything I can remember. 
 Broken apologetic nothings, perhaps. She 
 went back to her chair. I watched her pick 
 up the pieces of the plate, to see if I could 
 
 221
 
 A WOMAN OF NO NERVES 
 
 detect any sign of her recognition of the 
 sentiment contained in the broken wreath 
 of forget-me-nots. I wanted to beg her to 
 give it to me, but I had a horrible fear that 
 she would think me a fool. Youth is more 
 afraid of the imputation of sentimentality 
 than middle age, you see. 
 
 "But no, I think Ann regretted her spoiled 
 work, although she was gravely sweet about 
 assuring me that she did not mind. Ah, 
 well! 
 
 " I wrote to them until Ann's mother 
 died, then I wrote to her once or twice, but 
 she never answered my letters. I have of- 
 ten thought of going back to Deerfield and 
 looking her up. But I am afraid that the 
 old fire is not yet burned out, and that if I 
 saw her happily married, with her little chil- 
 dren about her looking like smaller pink- 
 and-cream editions of their pretty mother, 
 or unhappily married, I should want to kill 
 somebody most likely myself." 
 
 " You two would never have been happy 
 together,"' I said, with a secret sweep of joy 
 that nothing pertaining to myself ever had 
 given me. 
 
 222
 
 A WOMAN OF NO NERVES 
 
 " Traitor !" he cried, raising his head and 
 showing me eyes softened with emotion. 
 " You said nerves could be lived down. 
 How dare you destroy an air-castle called 
 ' Might-have-been ' with which I may solace 
 my sleepless hours ? If she only had cared ! 
 Happy? I tell you we would have been 
 happy., Dear Ann! She might have been 
 satisfied wrth me. She was not exacting 
 nor difficult to please." 
 
 "Absurd!" I said, with a feigned heat 
 which I was sadly afraid his keenness would 
 discover, because it was so badly done. 
 " Imagine her here in my place, you and 
 her married. Come, draw your chair near- 
 er ; don't you love to put your feet on the 
 fender? Now look into the fire and pre- 
 tend that the woman in this chair is Ann 
 not any other man's wife, but yours. Now. 
 You are nervous and tired. Hear this chair 
 squeak? Isn't this the way she would do 
 it ? You would stand it about five minutes, 
 then you would leap to your feet with an ir- 
 ritated exclamation, and perhaps rush from 
 the house. Do you hear this ? Isn't this 
 a jolly squeak ?" 
 
 223
 
 A WOMAN OF NO NERVES 
 
 " How more than unkind how cruel, 
 even, a sweet woman can be !" he said, slow- 
 ly turning upon me a look full of reproach. 
 He had followed my thoughts childishly, 
 and let himself drift into a dream of Ann as 
 his wife with the delicious abandon with 
 which a tired body sinks into an easy-chair. 
 " I expected you to laugh, but I did not 
 think you would mock." 
 
 " Because I do not think you are in ear- 
 nest in your reform," I said. " Would you be 
 gentle and patient with her, and say, ' Dear 
 Ann, please don't,' instead of glaring at her 
 as you did at me ?" 
 
 His face twitched as he tried to smile. 
 
 " I must be going," he said, standing up 
 and buttoning his coat across his thin form 
 with pathetic dignity. 
 
 A sudden daring resolve combated my 
 fear of intruding and ruining myself forever 
 both in his eyes and Aunt Ann's. 
 
 "It is pouring rain. Will you do me a 
 favor ? Heap coals of fire on my head, for 
 I have been brutally unkind. Stay to din- 
 ner and help me entertain a difficult, almost 
 impossible, guest. I am so nervous at the 
 224
 
 A WOMAN OF NO NERVES 
 
 prospect that I feel as if I should fly. Have 
 you any other engagement? We will dine 
 early, at half after six if you like, so that 
 you may go whenever you feel that you 
 must." 
 
 "If you really need me " He hesitated. 
 
 " Sit down and wait for me here," I said, 
 rushing out of the room in a distracted fash- 
 ion for fear he might read my tell-tale face. 
 
 " Aunt Ann !" I cried, bursting open her 
 door and discovering her in a blue dressing- 
 gown, doing her hair before the mirror. 
 
 She turned deliberately. She never 
 jumped. 
 
 " Aunt Ann ! have you a light-blue gown 
 of any kind anything thin and soft a a 
 lawn ?" 
 
 " I have a last summer's dimity," she said, 
 slowly, letting her pretty hair fall in its nat- 
 ural waves. 
 
 She went to the closet and brought the 
 dress, holding it out before her and shaking 
 its folds. 
 
 " It needs pressing." 
 
 " Not a bit," I declared. " Put it on 
 quickly. Never mind if you catch your 
 p 225
 
 A WOMAN OF NO NERVES 
 
 death - cold. It's worth it. And do your 
 hair a little looser the way I did it for you. 
 What pretty arms you have ! There is a 
 man down-stairs who will be here to dinner. 
 He is a nervous wretch who almost sets me 
 crazy to watch him, so if you do any squeak- 
 ing or creaking, or dare to touch a news- 
 paper, or jingle your rings, you will see me 
 go right through the ceiling. I simply can- 
 not stand it. You will be a dear, and re- 
 member ? Let me pin that for you. Where 
 does this blue ribbon go ? That's lovely. 
 What a sweet old-ivory color this lace has ! 
 Now you look exactly like that portrait of 
 your mother. Have you a handkerchief ? 
 There. Come on. Oh, how pretty you 
 look ! I am sure Mr. Dudley will admire 
 you. Goodness, Aunt Ann, let go my arm !" 
 
 " Who told you his name ?" she said, 
 steadying herself by the banisters. 
 
 " Told me whose name ?" Then I broke 
 down. " He is in the library Mr. Gilbert 
 Dudley. He doesn't know you are here, 
 but he loves you he has always loved you. 
 He has been telling me about it the other 
 side of your story, and you are going to 
 226
 
 A WOMAN OF NO NERVES 
 
 marry him and be very happy. Aunt Ann, 
 I'll pinch you if you faint. You've lost all 
 your color. Rub your cheeks with your 
 hand. No, harder. Here, let me do it. Oh, 
 did that hurt you ? Well, never mind. You 
 look all right. Aren't you coming? Surely 
 you're not going to back out now, after all 
 my trouble. Now go right in. It will be 
 over in a minute." 
 
 I got behind her and almost pushed her 
 in. I could feel her body tremble. Aunt 
 Ann trembling ! 
 
 I heard an exclamation from him. 
 
 "Ann!" he said, in a dazed way. "Ann !" 
 
 Then a deathly silence which seemed to 
 last five minutes. What was the matter ? 
 Were they dead both of them ? 
 
 I did a dastardly thing. I looked through 
 the crack of the door. He was standing 
 before her, holding both her hands and look- 
 ing down into her eyes with such rapture 
 that his plain face was beautiful, and his 
 bent form was straight, with a dignity which 
 it never had worn before. 
 
 Such a look ! I turned away with tears 
 in my eyes. 
 
 227
 
 A WOMAN OF NO NERVES 
 
 Twenty years ! 
 
 I put my head in at the dining-room 
 door. 
 
 " Don't serve dinner until eight o'clock," 
 I said.
 
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