AL WORLD 
 
 ROBERT HERRICK
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 RIVERSIDE
 
 MACMILLAN'S STANDARD LIBRARY 
 
 THE REAL WORLD
 
 THE REAL WORLD 
 
 BY 
 
 ROBERT HERRICK 
 "* 
 
 AUTHOR OF "THE WEB OF LIFB," "THE GOSPEL OF 
 
 FBEEDOM," " THE MAN WHO WINS," " LITERARY 
 
 LOVE-LKTTEKS AND OTHER 8TOKIK8," KTC. 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 GROSSET & DUNLAP 
 PUBLISHERS
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1901, 
 
 BY THE MACMILLAN COMPANY. 
 
 Special edition, in paper covers, June, twice, 1905. 
 Reprinted May, 1906. 
 
 Nurtooofi $rtss 
 
 J. 8. Caching * Co. Berwick gt Smith C. 
 Norwood, Maw., U.S.A.
 
 R. M. L. 
 
 "And though we wear out life,, alas I 
 
 Distracted as a homeless wind, 
 In beating where we must not past, 
 In seeking what we shall not find; 
 
 " Jet we shall one day gain, life past, \ 
 
 Clear prospect o'er our being's whole ; 
 Shall see ourselves, and learn at last 
 Our true affinities of soul."
 
 " THE severe Schools shall never laugh me out of the 
 Philosophy of Hermes, that this visible World is but a 
 Picture of the invisible, wherein, as in a Pourtraict, 
 things are not truely, but in equivocal shapes, and as 
 they counterfeit some more real substance in that invisi 
 ble fabrick." 
 
 SIR THOMAS BROWNE.
 
 BOOK I 
 BOYHOOD
 
 THE REAL WORLD 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 HE hung there peering over the picket fence into the 
 March dusk long after he had really given up all hope 
 of seeing his brother's tall form come up the lane. 
 Steve usually got home from the Academy by one 
 o'clock, or a little after. Jack had looked for him 
 pretty steadily since twelve. A dozen times his grip 
 on the pickets had tightened nervously when he de 
 tected some one in the vague territory at the extremity 
 of the lane, and then slowly relaxed as a stranger's 
 countenance emerged on a nearer view. At first the day 
 had been brilliantly lighted with clear sun, but as the 
 hours crept on and the wrong figures repeated them 
 selves with increasing frequency, thin vaporish clouds 
 had spread themselves over the blue sky, and a spring 
 fog had come from the distant seacoast, filtering through 
 the straggling houses, casting a mantle of doubt over 
 common objects. So the persons of the passers-by had 
 taken on an unreality, a vagueness of outline, correspond 
 ing with the cloudy thoughts, the disappointment in the 
 boy's heart. Neighbor Pancoast's yard, midway of the 
 lane, began to fill with whitish ghosts; the open field 
 
 3
 
 4 THE HEAL WOULD 
 
 along the distant avenue, where the older boys played 
 ball, expanded into a gray limitless moor; the figures 
 passing from time to time into the cross-streets formed 
 an endless procession of uncouth giants. So strongly 
 had this insubstantial appearance of the visible world 
 got hold of the boy that when the shuffling figure of old 
 man Cliff paused opposite him and the old man said, 
 "What are yer lookin' fer?" Jack drew back from 
 the fence without replying, frightened by the earthly 
 habit of speech betrayed by this bulky shadow. When 
 the old man resumed his shamble down the lane, the boy 
 relapsed at once into the hypnotic spell created by the 
 stream of silent, foggy forms. 
 
 Earlier in the afternoon, before the mist had blotted 
 out the usual aspect of affairs, his sister had come from 
 the house to entice him from his post ; she had tried to 
 soften the keen edge of his disappointment with a piece 
 of candied ginger. But she was an ineffective person, 
 whose chief offices in life were feebly consolatory. After 
 the fashion of those whose dull perceptions are incapable 
 of sounding the gulfs of grief, she believed that soft 
 words and candied ginger were adequate poultices for 
 all woes. Thus he had clung to his post by the picket 
 fence, not encouraging with a reply this offer of weak 
 sympathy. The silence, the moving illusory figures, 
 were a pleasanter balm than any she had to offer ! 
 
 Their father had some free tickets from the opera 
 company that was filling its annual spring engagement 
 in the neighboring city. In years before, whenever there 
 were tickets, their mother had been induced after much
 
 THE REAL WORLD , 5 
 
 coaxing to go to the opera ; but this year she had refused 
 so stubbornly that the tickets for the matinee had been 
 handed over to Steve, with the understanding that he 
 was to come home from the Academy promptly and take 
 his younger brother to the opera. This arrangement had 
 been made the evening before, after some wrangling 
 between his father and his mother that closed in the 
 usual recriminations, abuse, and, finally, sullen silence. 
 Steve escaped these frequent thunderstorms by going 
 to a neighbor's, or down to the shops in the " square " ; 
 the younger boy, who was not permitted to leave the 
 house after dark for fear of possible corruptions, with 
 drew to his attic room, or to the cellar, where the noise 
 of harsh words penetrated only in the louder bursts of 
 passion. But last night both boys had been present at 
 the quarrel, and, moreover, Jack had seen his father 
 hand over the tickets to Steve this morning before he 
 left the house. There could be no mistake on his part; 
 it was only one of those irrational interruptions in the 
 flow of events that made all life so chaotic, so unreal ! 
 
 He knew little enough about the opera. It was some 
 thing like the theatre, he had been once to see " Ham 
 let," only there was singing, his sister said, and it was 
 nicer. Some of the things they sang in opera he had 
 heard, for his father often played accompaniments in 
 concerts, and now and then the performers had come to 
 the house to rehearse their arias. These times he had 
 hung around the house, in the dining room, or in the 
 yard outside, savoring surreptitiously the sweeter bars, 
 the more melodious passages of the florid arias. He
 
 6 THE REAL WORLD 
 
 recalled with especial vividness one of these people, a 
 woman, who sang contralto in the church where his 
 father had been organist ; and her voice still thrilled him 
 with a curious feeling of mystery, of perfect harmony, 
 like a peaceful day in the house, when his parents were 
 of one accord, not unlike a well-oiled mechanism, such 
 as a delicately made knife, that works precisely and 
 smoothly, as it ought to do. That strange sense of the 
 harmony of another world, into which the voice of the 
 singer had lifted him for a few seconds, sank deeper into 
 his memory because of the strident catastrophe of its 
 end. The swelling, tumultuous note where the con 
 tralto's voice rested powerfully, had been broken by 
 the noise of sharp, angry voices in dispute. He knew 
 at once that there was some row. It was the last time 
 the contralto came to the house. The strip of neglected 
 yard, with its rotting fence and dying peach tree, took 
 hold of the boy's imagination at that moment all the 
 more acutely. The dull day, the dreary yard, his own 
 bleak little cosmos, was all the drearier for the singer's 
 notes ; nevertheless, he craved the excitement, as one 
 might crave a narcotic that brought its relentless sequel 
 of pain. The hope of hearing that voice made him 
 almost willing to go to church, whither since he was five 
 he had been scrupulously driven by his mother. There, 
 in what seemed to him the interminable routine of forms 
 and words, he waited for the moments of perfect song ; 
 and they were rare, indeed, coming unexpectedly in 
 the middle of the Te Deum, in a single bar of a tedious 
 anthem, in the gently chanted Kyrie Elison, never
 
 THE REAL WORLD 7 
 
 sounding at all for many weeks at a time. But there 
 was ever the chance ! And when the note was struck, 
 the little church, of a rude, mill-made gothic character, 
 expanded largely ; the quiescent worshippers, soggy from 
 their late Sunday breakfasts, rose and shone as beautiful 
 men and women : the other world enfolded him, and he 
 was content. 
 
 So keen was his longing for this other world of har 
 mony that he had found new ways of summoning it, 
 certain books, a few moments of the day at certain sea 
 sons of the year. Sometimes the vision had come of its 
 own accord when he had retreated to the dusty cellar to 
 escape the storms above, and these moments had been 
 the best, because they had not been bought by any effort ; 
 and fading they left in their train less dinginess, less 
 disappointment. 
 
 So the opera had stirred a vast cloud of phantoms 
 for the few hours that he had had to expect it, he 
 wished it were a week off, and he had promised himself 
 unconsciously three hours of just such trance as the 
 contralto's aria from the Messiah had raised. He had 
 not dared to say anything to Steve about the engagement 
 he judged it would be safer to take it for granted. 
 When he finally realized that Steve was not coming, 
 unspeakable rage slowly suffocated his heart ; he thought 
 of what he could do to hurt this stronger person. He 
 knew it would be useless to speak to his mother, as 
 she would in the end take Steve's part, no matter what 
 the quarrel might be. Mary would try to keep him 
 from telling his father to avoid the family dispute;
 
 8 THE REAL WORLD 
 
 but ha would not be appeased, he would make Steve 
 suffer ! 
 
 But as the day wore on, and the mist came up the 
 lane, and the dull details of his landscape transformed 
 themselves, his rage died out, and a wistful wonder suc 
 ceeded a wonder why so much of the time the untidy 
 yard, the dusty street, the ugly men, the quarrelsome 
 family existed, and so rarely, so briefly, this other kind 
 of a world, which seemed to have a better right to exist, 
 took its place. Alas! every one persisted in acting 
 as if there were but one kind of world. Mary, for 
 example, he doubted if Mary knew of any other world, 
 and he was sure that neither Steve nor his mother 
 knew what he knew about it. 
 
 By the time that his father's form emerged from the 
 mist, his rage against Steve had quite died out, and also 
 his curiosity over the puzzle of his non-appearance. His 
 father came along the Pancoasts' fence, slowly, as if he 
 were dragged out by the day's duties. His head leaned 
 forward, his eyes were bent toward the ground, and a roll 
 in his hand bumped negligently against the fence palings. 
 He never looked up, not even when he reached the gate, 
 merely fumbled at the latch and pushed his way in, as if 
 he had resigned his will to habit in so much as he could. 
 The boy slipped down from the fence and made him 
 self felt ; his father looked at him kindly, and asked in 
 a tired voice : 
 
 " Is that you, Jack ? How did you like the opera? " 
 
 Jack did not answer. The sense of disappointment 
 returned and choked him.
 
 THE REAL WORLD . 9 
 
 " You got home early. Did you stay for the last act ?" 
 
 " Steve didn't come." He could find, no more incisive 
 words. 
 
 " What ! " his father exclaimed, stopping and straight 
 ening himself. "I gave him the tickets this morning. 
 What's happened to him ? " 
 
 Jack shook his head, and the man took the boy's hand 
 sympathetically, saying gently : 
 
 " Well, I'll take you next week if I can get the tickets. 
 Don't bother, and don't say anything to Steve. Perhaps 
 he forgot all about it." 
 
 At first the boy was consoled, but at the last words, 
 denying him just vengeance, he withdrew his hand. He 
 knew why his father was trying to smooth it over, just 
 like Mary, so that his mother shouldn't talk and get 
 into one of her rages. A feeling almost of contempt for 
 his father swept over him, and he said no more. He 
 would take his own measures. 
 
 Together they proceeded to the back door of the house. 
 It was a stucco-covered brick affair, and large patches of 
 the stucco, colored and lined in imitation of sandstone 
 blocks, were peeling off. The building was shedding its 
 false skin ; the ragged grass plots, the abandoned flower 
 beds, made it more unlovely. 
 
 " Ann's gone," the boy said, pregnantly, with a bitter 
 desire to solace his burning resentment by chronicling 
 misfortune. The man's shoulders stooped unconsciously. 
 
 " Mother said she was drunk and impudent," he con 
 tinued, anxious to make an impression. "She sent her 
 away. Ann swore and made a fuss."
 
 10 THE REAL WORLD 
 
 It was not the first time that the old Irishwoman had 
 been discharged from the Pemberton household. But 
 after her sprees, when her too truthful tongue no longer 
 wagged with liquor, she came back, and was forgiven. 
 She was the only servant whom Mrs. Pemberton could 
 keep, for she knew the family disagreements, and a new 
 servant would have to learn them. 
 
 "The doctor's been here most half an hour," Jack 
 continued, impartially ; " and mother's gone to bed." 
 
 They had reached the back door, and Mr. Pemberton 
 was not obliged to recognize the information. Jack fol 
 lowed his father into the house and waited to see what 
 he would do in face of the bare dining-room table and 
 the cluttered kitchen, which corroborated his story. 
 
 Mr. Pemberton opened the hall door noiselessly, de 
 posited his roll of music, his hat and coat, and returned 
 to the kitchen. Jack helped him as he had done so 
 often on similar occasions, running to the cellar for 
 kindling, getting the eggs and butter and bread from the 
 pantry, buttering the toast after his father had prepared 
 it. The boy said nothing. For the first time he was 
 thinking of what they were doing, of what it meant. 
 At last, when the elements of a supper were ready, his 
 father said: "Get me the tray, Jack, and go and call 
 Mary." 
 
 Then selecting the best slice of toast, the best cup and 
 saucer, and the silver cream-jug, Mr. Pemberton arranged 
 the tray. As Jack went to call his sister, he could hear 
 his father's soothing, somewhat timid voice, in the room 
 above, and his mother's querulous answer. Instead of
 
 THE REAL WORLD 11 
 
 calling Mary, he listened, the feeling of contempt again 
 filling his heart. Soon there came a murmur of expostu 
 lating voices from the room above, and finally distinct, 
 sharp sentences : 
 
 "Steve would be all right if you did something for 
 your family. He can't have fit associates, living where 
 we do and how we do. The nice boys at the Academy 
 won't go with him. A music teacher " 
 
 " Is a pettifogging country lawyer, like your father was, 
 any better ? " the man's voice flamed back with unusual 
 spirit. 
 
 Jack retreated from the front hall and called out of 
 the dining-room window, " Mary, Mary ! " until his sister 
 appeared at a gap in the fence.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 STEVE did not appear the next day, nor was anything 
 heard from him for two days thereafter. 
 
 Jack was not told this, but he knew it instinctively. 
 The atmosphere of the house was ominous, something like 
 what it had been when his little brother had died three 
 years before. His mother remained in bed in her dark 
 ened room; his father and Mary and he prepared the 
 desultory meals, maintaining a constrained silence. At 
 first there had been loud, angry discussions in his mother's 
 room above, followed by hysterical tears ; and the doctor 
 a fashionably attired man, who was driven by a negro 
 servant came every day, a sure sign that the family 
 crisis was important. Then Mary was taken into the 
 confidence of her parents; attired in her best church 
 dress she disappeared into the town on mysterious 
 errands. She could not be induced to divulge these, and 
 she wore perpetually an air of secret and responsible 
 grief that irritated the thirteen-year-old boy. Their 
 father and Jack wished to eat in the kitchen, as the most 
 labor-saving method, but Mary, who was nearly fifteen, 
 was loyal to the prejudices of both sides of the family, 
 and insisted upon setting the table in the dining room 
 and presiding in her mother's place with funereal grav 
 ity, alternating with feeble sallies of conventional remarks. 
 
 12
 
 THE REAL WORLD 13 
 
 During this interregnum Jack had unusual freedom. 
 He had taken advantage of his freedom once to stray 
 from the neighborhood into the busy "square," where 
 he bought some candy and cigarettes, as he had seen 
 Steve do, but this one excursion satisfied him except for 
 surreptitious visits to old man Cliff's market garden that 
 stretched in green furrows behind the Pemberton hen 
 house. These excursions were made less in the desire of 
 loot from the Cliff strawberry beds than in the hope of 
 finding little Isabelle Mather in the old pavilion at the 
 farther end of the Cliff garden. General Mather's estate 
 stretched from this humble quarter of the town up the 
 long slope of a gentle hill to the family mansion, the 
 most considerable house in Biverside, as the Mathers 
 were the most considerable family. Mrs. Pemberton had 
 once exchanged calls with Mrs. Mather, and to this day, 
 years after Mrs. Mather's death, the Mathers were ever 
 on Mrs. Pemberton's tongue. For that reason Jack might 
 have avoided the Mather place, but having found one 
 summer day the abandoned pavilion, and recognizing its 
 favorable position as a depository for his loot, as well as 
 a tranquil retreat from storms, he had made of it a nest 
 during the summer while the great wooden house on the 
 hill was shut. There, one day in the early autumn, he 
 had been surprised by the young daughter of the people 
 on the hill, a tall, fair girl, and this chance acquaint 
 ance, made as child with child, instead of driving him 
 from his retreat, rendered it the more attractive. Isabelle 
 Mather was eleven to his thirteen, and yet her calm man 
 ners, her deep, tranquil eyes, and gentle voice gave her the
 
 14 THE BEAL WOBLD 
 
 advantage of age. She came and went from the Kiver. 
 side house, now to the seaside or the mountains, again 
 to visit in New York, leading altogether a strangely 
 pleasant existence of variety which the boy envied her. 
 
 Lately he had seen her across Cliffs rhubarb beds 
 strolling sedately near the pavilion, and he had care 
 fully concealed the fact of her return from Mary, who 
 had fluttering ambitions of a girlish sort toward Isa- 
 belle. So when these days of interregnum came, and his 
 heart was heavy with the sultry imminence of some un 
 known crisis, he had tried clumsily to tell Isabelle Mather 
 of the other world which puzzled him, to see whether she 
 had any knowlege of this double certainty, feeling assured 
 that in her larger experience the girl must have oppor 
 tunities denied to him. He told her, then, of the lost 
 opera, of his dream of what it would have been. But 
 the young girl looked at him coldly ; her blue eyes had 
 the glitter of winter water. 
 
 !. "Oh! it was very bad, papa said it's lots nicer in 
 New York and Paris." 
 
 Forgetting this rebuff, he went at the thing again and 
 stumbled on unhappy phrases. 
 
 " I don't understand," she answered primly, with a little 
 shade of disdain on her delicate face. The boy read the 
 child's reserve : " She doesn't want to be intimate with 
 me they have told her not to see me." 
 
 His rapid surmise was met by her next remark: "I 
 don't think you should come here this way through the 
 fence. It isn't nice; you should come to the house 
 like our other friends."
 
 THE REAL WORLD 15 
 
 Jack's face turned very red. 
 
 "I don't want to go to your house like your other 
 friends ! " 
 
 The little girl arranged her muslin skirt as she answered 
 haughtily : 
 
 "Eoger says it isn't manly to sneak into people's 
 grounds, and Roger says " 
 
 But catching sight of the boy's expression, she paused. 
 Jack laughed disagreeably. 
 
 " Tell your brother I don't care what he thinks. He's 
 like Steve, I guess," he added with final contempt. 
 
 "Don't say that!" the girl replied more gently. "I 
 am sorry I," her lips trembled, "I like you, and 
 I want to hear oh ! Don't go that way ! " 
 
 But in spite of this appeal he had turned his back with 
 a boy's brusqueness. She ran after him a few steps, and 
 then recollecting her admirable manners, she stopped and 
 called regretfully : " Do come again, once more. I didn't 
 mean to hurt your feelings." 
 
 From the Cliff side of the fence Jack could see her 
 walking up the gravelled path, a dainty aristocrat, mov 
 ing with instinctive precision and indifference to things 
 animate. The boy watched her, his heart angry and sad. 
 She might have been unlike the others ! And he learned 
 from her the lesson of caste the first and most insidi 
 ous poison that drops into a child's heart. This was what 
 his mother fussed over. But instead of sympathizing with 
 her longings, he hated Isabelle and all the Mathers, and 
 withdrew into the unfurnished world of his imagination. 
 
 For years the muslin-clad figure of the child, with her
 
 16 THE HEAL WOBLD 
 
 hard, beautiful blue eyes and dainty-mannered air, stood 
 in his mind for the world the world of other people 
 which his heart refused hotly to accept. 
 
 These days of Steve's disappearance Jack had given up 
 going to school, not in defiance of authority, but from 
 the consciousness of disturbed conditions, of impending 
 change. And the gloomy atmosphere of his household 
 fascinated him strangely. The other world, to be sure, 
 was far away, but the present one did not exist any 
 more; it was neither one thing nor the other merely a 
 void condition that must precede some convulsion, like the 
 sultry, brooding moments that intervene between the wind 
 and the rain of a severe thunderstorm. A time for much 
 speculation, and laborious endeavors to understand ! The 
 first passionate contempt for his father for not rendering 
 him justice, for submitting to degrading conditions of 
 family servitude, wore away, and the boy began to feel a 
 kind of pity for the stooping, gray-haired man, whose 
 irresolute, dragging steps along the cinder path beside 
 the Pancoast fence as he went away in the morning or 
 came back at night on his round of lesson-giving, sounded 
 of defeat. Jack did not know what defeat meant; he 
 thought of it as a complete surrender to the ordinary 
 world of things the rotting peach tree, the untidy 
 yard, the scaling stucco, the shabby mal-adjusted house. 
 And he wondered if this portentous change would make 
 it impossible for him too to escape from what men called 
 real if it would mean a complete and eternal fixing of 
 the sordid world as it was.
 
 THE REAL WORLD 17 
 
 This ignorant pity for his father made him kinder and 
 more helpful. He ran errands, cooked what he could, 
 and refrained from announcing disagreeable items of 
 news, such as the doctor's frequent visits. The fifth 
 day there came a change in the gloomy house ; a letter 
 arrived, he saw Mary carry it upstairs, and, later, 
 his mother came down, dressed in a black gown, and 
 scolded him for not being at school. Mary would say 
 nothing about the letter, but a breath of action blew 
 through the house. There was a stormy discussion in 
 the evening between his father and his mother, and his 
 father walked to the telegraph office late at night. The 
 next day Jack went to school, but he could not read a 
 word; he was wondering what was going on at home. 
 When, on his return, he entered the dining room, he 
 heard voices in his father's music room, which Steve was 
 allowed to use for a study since he attended the Acad 
 emy. There was a strange woman's voice a deep bass 
 that he had heard before, but could not remember where. 
 At last, at the risk of being snubbed, he pushed open the 
 door and crept into the music room. 
 
 Steve was there; as Jack entered, Steve winked at 
 him. By his side sat a large, fair-skinned woman dressed 
 tidily in a black gown with silk ribbons on her bonnet. 
 His father stood by the mantelpiece, his head bowed 
 in his hand. His mother sat very stiff and cold opposite 
 Steve. The stranger was saying : 
 
 " Well, if it hain't been for your tele-gram, I said to John 
 we'd better let the boy stay at the farm and work out his 
 keep. John was going to write that to Arthur but "
 
 18 THE REAL WORLD 
 
 "I don't know what Mr. Pemberton might do," his 
 mother interrupted, in her rapid staccato tones. " But 
 I should never consent. I don't want my boy brought 
 up on a farm and educated as a clodhopper. We have 
 had enough farming in the family, I should think." 
 
 The large woman tossed her head at the sneer in the 
 last words, and retorted : 
 
 " Well, folks as can't keep their children contented at 
 home " 
 
 " Mr. Pemberton," Jack's mother interrupted angrily, 
 "will you stand there and hear your sister-in-law insult 
 your wife ! " 
 
 "Julia," his father began deprecatingly, raising his 
 hand. And at the name there flashed into the boy's 
 mind a distant memory of a visit to a little white house, 
 a journey made by steamboat, a green country, and a 
 large cheerful woman, whom his mother seemed to dis 
 like especially, his Aunt Julia. How did Steve and 
 Aunt Julia come together ! In his excitement he walked 
 up to his aunt's side, and his presence became known to 
 his mother. 
 
 " Go right out, Jack ! " she exclaimed crossly. "What 
 are you sneaking in here for ! " And as Jack still lin 
 gered, she rose nervously to lay hands on him. 
 
 " What's the matter, Sarah ? " his aunt interposed in 
 her broad, guttural speech. " Jock's all right ; he wants 
 to see his aunt, more'n the rest of you seem to." 
 
 As no one ventured a remark, the boy said impul 
 sively : 
 
 " I wish you'd ask me to go stay with you, Aunt Julia,
 
 THE REAL WOULD 19 
 
 if mother don't want Steve to go. She won't care if you 
 take me ! I'd like to live on the farm." 
 
 His excited mind already suggested that this might be 
 the great event which had been in the air these days. 
 His mother had often said in her accesses of bad temper 
 that he was "just a Pemberton over again," and had 
 even threatened to make his father send him away to 
 the country. 
 
 In the enthusiasm of his desire he felt, nevertheless, 
 the depressed sinking of his father's head upon his hand, 
 as if some one had suddenly given him an unexpected 
 blow. His mother's lips drew together as she ejacu 
 lated, "Heartless!" 
 
 " Thinks the same way as Steve, it appears," his Aunt 
 Julia remarked maliciously, still holding Jack's hand. 
 " Couldn't hardly get Steve to the station this morning." 
 
 So Steve had been all these days at Aunt Julia's ! 
 Very far away in Pemberton Neck beyond Portland. 
 The sense of mystery grew, and Jack gripped his aunt's 
 hand tighter. She kept on, having the evident ad 
 vantage : 
 
 " Arthur, what do you say ? John and I want a boy 
 about. We ain't had any children, and we ain't like city 
 folks we always wanted 'em. Let us take Jock now, 
 leastwise for a time." 
 
 Her voice was conciliatory, almost pleading, and the 
 boy felt the tension of the moment in the stuffy, furnace- 
 heated room. It was no longer a question of Steve, of 
 the injury to him in the opera matter, but of his own 
 fate that was to be decided by the next words. His
 
 20 THE HEAL WORLD 
 
 mother broke in excitedly: she always carried every 
 thing in a whirlwind before sober people had a chance 
 to weigh their ideas ! 
 
 "Mr. Pemberton, will you not speak? Will you let 
 your sister-in-law entice your children away from their 
 homes before your face?" 
 
 His father lifted his head with a certain weary 
 dignity. 
 
 " I think, Sarah, if the boys feel as they do, perhaps 
 it shows that it would be best for them to go." 
 
 Jack did not quite understand what his father meant. 
 It never occurred to him that going away with Aunt 
 Julia meant abandoning his family. There was no time 
 for working the matter out in detail ; his mother's tem 
 pestuous tongue had broken loose once more : 
 
 "That's like the Pembertons and the Maxwells no 
 more spirit than barn-mice ! What if the boys do want 
 to run away? Whose fault is it? If you had given 
 them a chance to take their place with nice people, if 
 you gave them any advantages " 
 
 Mr. Pemberton waved his hand distractedly, and Aunt 
 Julia came to his rescue. 
 
 "Well, Sarah, don't go over that story again. We 
 hain't the time. I guess Arthur has done as well by his 
 family as most. Steve is going to the Academy, isn't 
 he?" 
 
 Thereupon Mrs. Pemberton poured out her wrath upon 
 the placid, florid woman, and there was a jangle of 
 family charges, until Aunt Julia, releasing her grasp 
 of Jack's hand, rose and said:
 
 THE REAL WORLD 21 
 
 " I hain't called on to hear such business ! I'll get that 
 five o'clock train, Arthur, for Boston. How about that 
 money the boys took " 
 
 At this juncture, Jack was pushed out of the room. 
 Not until years after did he learn all the details of 
 Steve's flght, how he and another boy had taken some 
 bills from the cash drawer in the store kept by the boy's 
 father, and after going to the opera and spending most 
 of the money in forbidden pleasures, had started for 
 Pemberton Neck with the remaining dollars. There 
 they had arrived two days later, footsore, penniless, and 
 jubilant, expecting a warm welcome from Uncle John 
 and Aunt Julia. 
 
 When Jack was thrust from the room, his hopes some 
 what dashed, he took refuge in the dining room, where 
 Mary was setting the table very elaborately, as for guests. 
 " I'm going back with Aunt Julia," he announced to Mary 
 importantly, and Mary looked at him in astonishment and 
 then cried a few feeble tears. Aunt Julia, however, left 
 the house without even asking to see him again, refusing 
 point blank to sit down "in such a scolding family." 
 Mary had all the labor of putting back the best china in 
 the parlor closet, and setting the table over again more 
 simply. 
 
 At first it seemed to him that the crisis had come to 
 nothing, that the ensuing vacuum was worse than the 
 old condition. But there was a change, perceptible to 
 his awakened senses, and the change was due to his own 
 impulsive words. Steve and Mary, severally and to 
 gether, when they wished to snub him, accused him of
 
 22 THE BEAL WORLD 
 
 disloyalty, of cruelly wounding their father and mother. 
 And as he pondered on the scene in the study, and gath 
 ered up the bitter words let fall at the table or in the 
 heat of argument between his parents, he came to see 
 that the crisis had really taken place, that these older 
 people, with their larger freedom, their opportunities, 
 had seen clearly, cruelly, the wreck of this family life. 
 Perhaps for the first time both had understood what it 
 meant, their perpetual wrangling, and accusation, and 
 discontent: with the elements of their experience they 
 had created this unreal world, unlovely, harsh, sor 
 did, out of which the young beings sprung from their 
 loins had wished to flee, as the vine reaches up from 
 shade to light. And they saw that their world of discord 
 existed, once created : they could never build it afresh.
 
 CHAPTEB III 
 
 THE little scene in the study marked the beginning 
 of the end in the music-teacher's family. For months 
 thereafter the jarring tempers of the household were 
 more subdued: in their place succeeded a sour silence 
 as of despair. From this time the boy began to piece 
 together the fragments of talk that had hitherto fallen 
 on unheeding ears. Little by little he learned certain 
 facts about the family. His father's people had been 
 poor farmers in a seacoast village of Maine, and his 
 mother never let her children forget that she had been 
 a Russell, third cousin of the Burton Russells ; that her 
 father had been the leading lawyer of Coffin's Falls; 
 and that her brother was the pastor of the largest church 
 in that New Hampshire town. Years later, when the 
 boy saw for the first time the " Russell place," -a neat 
 little house on the outskirts of Coffin's Falls, with its own 
 little drive and stable, he failed to perceive the magni 
 tude of difference that in his mother's eyes had sepa 
 rated the family of Pemberton Neck from the family of 
 Coffin's Falls. His youthful imagination had pictured 
 the prim little wooden house as an opulent brick man 
 sion lying in the midst of ancestral acres. 
 
 The other triumphs of the Russells also lost their 
 glamoui as he grew to know the world. The case before 
 
 23
 
 24 THE REAL WORLD 
 
 the Supreme Court at Washington, the term in the New 
 Hampshire legislature, the visit to some New York Bus- 
 sells, isolated points of bravery in a prolonged term 
 of Coffin's Falls, were a meagre enough glory. Even 
 the two years in the Boston boarding school, where his 
 mother had met his father, did not indicate a position of 
 grandeur. However petty these differences might seem 
 to Jack, years later, they were vital to the disappointed 
 woman, and accepted by her family. Her husband had 
 agreed to them, and that was most essential. 
 
 About his father the information gathered at this 
 period was less fruitful. Beyond the taunt of being a 
 farmer's son, a "clodhopper," there was little to learn 
 concerning Mr. Pemberton or his family. It was unsafe 
 to mention the Pembertons in the house on clear days. 
 Aunt Julia, a woman from Prince Edward Island, of 
 immediate English extraction, was ridiculed as illiterate 
 and boorish. His father never mentioned the Pember 
 tons in public. Surreptitiously, when less heavy-hearted 
 than usual, he would speak to Jack of Pemberton Neck, 
 of the sweet-smelling northern woods, the cold black 
 seas ; the boy learned to drop these reminiscences when 
 his mother appeared, as he learned to shuffle out of sight 
 an old copy of Painter's Palace of Pleasure when asked 
 on Sundays if he had by heart his collect and epistle. 
 
 But before his father died he heard the story of the 
 great effort the Pemberton family had made, years 
 earlier, to thrust its one aspiring member into prom 
 inence, of the two years at a country college, the 
 ambitions in music, the glorious days of early success in
 
 THE REAL WOKLD 25 
 
 Boston, the dreams of foreign study, put aside by a 
 hasty marriage after a three-months' acquaintance, and 
 finally abandoned as the cares of life overtook the buoy 
 ant young man one by one and laid hands on his aspir 
 ing march. Once, on an occasion when Mrs. Pemberton 
 was away from the house, his father had even dug out 
 some old manuscripts and had consented to play over the 
 forgotten strains of his cantata, The Song of Solomon. 
 The yellowed sheets bent limply in the piano rack ; Jack 
 had held them, while his father, first stumbling over the 
 dim notes, then gathering courage and memory, swept 
 on through the mazes of his ancient dream. The boy 
 never forgot that perception of his father. The bowed 
 head straightened, the faded blue eyes flashed and then 
 closed ; the years of sordid care, of miserable incapacity 
 before life, slipped away ; and he played as a young man 
 with the visions of the cities of youth stretched before him. 
 No music that Jack was to hear would ever have the 
 peculiar poignancy, the grandiose beauty of that un 
 finished cantata. Suddenly it came to an abrupt end, 
 as if the manuscript had been torn across by some 
 ignorant hand. 
 
 " I was going to London, when it was finished," Mr. 
 Pemberton had said quietly in explanation. And the 
 boy had sense enough not to probe farther. 
 
 On this occasion he had seen also copies of published 
 compositions, songs and waltzes, adaptations of ora 
 torios, arrangements for church music, a thick sheaf in 
 all. The sheets bore old dates and the names of forgot 
 ten publishers.
 
 26 THE REAL WORLD 
 
 "They do these things better now," Mr. Pemberton 
 said, throwing the music back into the drawer from 
 which he had unearthed it. 
 
 " Why don't you write some new ones ? " Jack asked. 
 
 "I haven't anything to say leastwise what is lift 
 ing, and the world wants only lifting things, Jack." 
 
 Jack understood. 
 
 Yet his father remained to him for years afterward a 
 mystery. He knew that earlier the family prospects had 
 been much brighter ; at first his father had had an organ 
 in a church near Boston. And even when for some 
 reason he had moved to this smaller town, where he was 
 chief organist in the place, there had been more money, 
 more ease, than now. Pupils had come to him from the 
 surrounding towns, and he had been accounted a success 
 ful teacher. Latterly they had fallen off, and he had 
 been obliged to take a smaller pla'ce as organist, for his 
 wife had offended the people of the old church, and had 
 sent away some of his best pupils in a huff. Now, each 
 year revealed the further disintegration of his affairs. 
 Yet even the boy knew that these obvious facts did not 
 explain. There was a secret mystery of character, some 
 fundamentally sapping decay of tissue, of old standing, 
 but recent manifestations. Even the boy felt that a 
 sound-looking ship does not founder at the first blows of 
 the waves, crumbling from one shock into the sea. Be 
 neath the fair decks and stout masts there must be rotting 
 timber, which had undone the ship before it sailed from 
 port. 
 
 With this sense of mystery about his father's career,
 
 THE HEAL WORLD 27 
 
 this inexplicable failure before the common trials of life, 
 the boy grew to have a special knowledge and affection 
 for the man. Throughout his life he would see the 
 weary, dragging figure as it came along the Pancoasts 7 
 fence, its fallen shoulders, its untidy shock of gray hair, 
 its long arms with bent, tapering fingers, and the face 
 that never smiled, but seemed always blind. He would 
 see, also, the upthrown head, the strong body movements, 
 when the man played the cantata. Thus his father was 
 curiously two persons, a man of youth and a man of age. 
 And their relations were likewise double. For he felt 
 sure that his father had known the other world, perhaps 
 even better than he had. The cantata seemed a pure 
 burst of light from the beautiful skies of that silent land. 
 But, somehow, inexplicably, the man had become involved 
 in what people called real, and had let those ugly facts 
 reported by the common senses of man get hold of him, 
 until the boy doubted if he ever wholly escaped from 
 them now. Father and son never discussed the matter, 
 but words let fall as they worked together in the kitchen, 
 mornings and evenings, washing dishes, preparing toast 
 or broiling meat, made the boy sure it had not always 
 been with the man's soul as it was now. 
 
 The dissolution of the Pemberton family took three 
 years. During this time Jack was attending the public 
 school ; there was no money to send him to the Academy 
 as Steve had been sent. He detested his school life. 
 He was shabbily dressed, usually in clothes too small for 
 his large frame, and the boys he would have liked to 
 know drew away from him, as if warned at home of his
 
 28 THE HEAL WORLD 
 
 social degeneracy. He had shot up into a large, black- 
 haired, brown-skinned youth, "a clodhopper Pember- 
 ton," his mother said, and he cursed his lengthening 
 shadow for its ungainly appearance. 
 
 The shabby, shrunken clothes were not so much the 
 cause of his loneliness as the gradual social descent of 
 the family. The aristocracy of the town was formed by 
 the faculties of the Academy and of the Theological 
 Seminary, together with a few large mill-owners, all of 
 whom lived on the "Hill." That the Pembertons had 
 slipped from their first uncertain position with these hill 
 people was due, so Mrs. Pemberton reiterated, to the 
 fact that Mr. Pemberton persisted in keeping the Pan- 
 coast Lane house. There had been talk for years of 
 moving up the hiH away from the humbler trades-people 
 of the lane. This subject had been the seed of much 
 family strife. As the Pembertons were usually behind 
 with their rent, and rents were much higher on the hill, 
 they had never left Pancoast's Lane. Latterly, even 
 Mrs. Pemberton had given up agitating the question. 
 
 The last hope of social rehabilitation had been Steve. 
 He had been sent to the Academy, and furnished with 
 smart clothes. He was a pretty, pert boy, and he grew 
 to be a pretty young man of a common American type, 
 with glossy blond hair that he brushed smooth and parted 
 in the middle, pretty red cheeks and brown eyes, and a 
 little curling brown mustache. His coloring was Kus- 
 sell, his mother said, and his form not too heavy to be 
 Russell also. His beauty was of a chromo type that 
 was very seductive to young women, and he had begun
 
 THE REAL WORLD 20 
 
 to " have girls " before he was sixteen. Unfortunately 
 he gravitated toward the more common families of the 
 valley, where he was very popular. When he was seven 
 teen, having failed to pass from one class to another, 
 he left the Academy, and made up his mind that he 
 would go into business. Thereupon he loafed about the 
 town for several months, getting into various small 
 scrapes of a vulgar kind; then he entered a mill as a 
 clerk. He became very "dressy," and smoked cigars. 
 It was known that he had been drunk once or twice. 
 His mother, who hoped now that he might make money, 
 helped out his small salary with occasional five-dollar 
 bills, scolded from her husband, and contrived to hide 
 his cheap little excesses. 
 
 The five-dollar bills were harder and harder to get, 
 even after the shrillest outbursts, the fiercest taunts, for 
 the music teacher was laboring hard, pressed on all sides, 
 breathing heavily, with the bloodshot eyes of the human 
 animal in his last covert. Ann, the servant, never came 
 back. Mary and Jack and their father did most of the 
 housework. The old corduroy -covered furniture accumu 
 lated holes and grease spots; nothing was renewed. 
 Finally the music teacher dragged himself home one day 
 and lay down on the sofa-bed in the study : he never got 
 up again. The doctor came and said things, and Mary 
 went for the medicines. But Jack, when he returned 
 from school and saw his father lying motionless beside 
 the window, his face turned to the wall, knew that the 
 end of the crisis was coming. 
 
 For a week Mrs. Pemberton did not come downstairs,
 
 30 THE KEAL WOKLD 
 
 convinced that this reported sickness was sulkiness or 
 laziness. Finally, the doctor went upstairs, and said 
 some brutal things before leaving the house. Then she 
 went downstairs and looked at the sick man. As she 
 entered the room, he turned his head to the wall, as if 
 to dodge a blow or to gather his courage for an impend 
 ing assault. But she was tamed by the doctor's words, 
 the doctor who had been her old ally, her one thread of 
 connection with the Hill, and for the six weeks that 
 her husband lived thereafter she nursed him in a kind 
 of exaltation, of romantic devotion, with tears and 
 smothered exclamations, as she had married him nine 
 teen years before. All of which feeling he seemed to 
 take gratefully, much to Jack's disgust. The boy was 
 bitter and passionate for his father, who had spent his 
 spirit and was cravenly resigned. Jack wanted to take 
 his mother and thrust her out of the room, hissing at 
 her, " Too late, too late. No acting here. Go to church 
 and weep, and order your cre"pe bonnet. This man must 
 die in peace ! " 
 
 She felt the boy's antagonism, and rebuked it by send 
 ing him on long errands with useless letters to the 
 doctor, thus keeping him out of the sick-room as much 
 as possible. Toward the end, however, he had to be 
 allowed to stay with the sick man while other members 
 of the family were busy or slept. One such occasion, 
 it was dusk of a fine April day, he sat by the open 
 window, watching the unearthly fog steal like enchant 
 ment over the Pancoast garden, blotting out the dusty 
 wooden cottages of the lane and the freshly budding
 
 THE REAL WORLD . 31 
 
 cherry trees. His father had not spoken for hours, but 
 he rarely said anything lately, merely moved his hand and 
 pointed for what he wanted. The misty landscape was 
 stealing hypnotic fingers over the boy, when he heard his 
 father's voice say feebly : 
 
 "Jack!" 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " Come here." 
 
 Jack put the window down and went over to the 
 bedside. 
 
 " You remember the music ? " 
 
 Jack nodded, a lump in his throat. 
 
 " Get it out of the drawer." 
 
 Jack obeyed, his hands trembling as they fumbled 
 among the cluttered contents of the deep drawer. He 
 found the yellowed sheets rolled up and tied with a piece 
 of twine, and put them on the bed beside his father's 
 hand. The long, bony, hairy fingers, unnaturally whi 
 tened by illness, stretched out and took the sheets, and 
 brought them near the eyes. He could not read the 
 notes. 
 
 " You can't play it," his father said, with a sigh. 
 
 The boy half groaned. His mother had forbidden his 
 learning to play any instrument, not wishing her sons 
 to follow their father's footsteps. 
 
 " Well, then, burn them." And as the boy still hesi 
 tated, averse thus to wipe out the last record of his 
 father's might, the sick man said irritably, " Burn them 
 at once," and shoved the pages off the bed. 
 
 Jack took the loose sheets to the fireplace and touched
 
 32 THE HEAL WORLD 
 
 a match to them. His father raised himself slightly 
 and looked at the flaming paper until the wan, powdery 
 ashes swirled up the chimney. The sudden flame lit up 
 his bristly face and bony arms. A grotesque figure, an 
 irony of life, a triumph of the real ! 
 
 The boy shuddered unconsciously. His father said 
 weakly, after the flames had died down : 
 
 " Come here. I want to say something." 
 
 Jack obeyed, kneeling by the bedside to catch the 
 faint tones of the fading voice. 
 
 " Remember, Jack," his father whispered, " your time 
 is coming to choose temptation older " 
 
 The feeble tones died out, and the head sank back as 
 if too exhausted to shape the wandering thoughts of a 
 sick mind into intelligible words. Perhaps, feeling at 
 the very end the inutility of speech, the final feebleness 
 of the best chosen words, he had given over the desire 
 to explain, to exhort, and resigned his son to life. 
 
 When Jack saw that his father had changed his mind, 
 he went back to his chair by the window, haunted by 
 the mystery of this life that was dying out so close to 
 him, wondering what that message to him might have 
 been, baffled as of old by his perception of the wanton 
 wreck that life had made. The mist had shut in thick 
 and white about the house, cutting off the cherry trees 
 not ten feet from the window, hemming in the silent 
 room in a great waste of the unknown. The phenomena 
 of the world, those that he shared with others, the 
 streets, the houses, the fences, the furniture of life, with 
 their common angular aspects, slipped away like sand
 
 THE REAL WORLD 33 
 
 running through the fingers. There was left a void, 
 enveloping, awful, consolatory, out of which sounded 
 the past, as sounds the gurgle of rushing waters in the 
 ears of the diver. The world that others saw did not 
 exist, nor as yet another world, mere strangeness . . . 
 
 " Jack ! " He heard his mother's voice, with a new 
 note in it. " Your father is dead ! " 
 
 She shrieked and fell sobbing beside the inert form. 
 
 Jack rose from his chair, stumbled as in a dark and 
 whirling room of unfamiliar things. He saw the white, 
 exhausted face of the sleeping man. And the boy was 
 ^silent, strangely content that it should be so.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 " WHY don't you cry ? " Mary demanded impatiently 
 between two sobs. " You haven't cried once since father 
 died, and mother says you're heartless." 
 
 Jack looked at the girl resentfully out of his burning 
 eyes and left the room. He could not endure the general 
 tears of the household. Even Steve, who had kept away 
 from the sick-room much of the time, had red eyes these 
 days and a broken voice. Jack knew that they all de 
 spised him, even his Uncle Talbot, who had been sum 
 moned from Coffin's Falls by his mother, and her cousin, 
 Anne Russell, who had also felt bound to respond to the 
 family call. They did not perceive as he did the hideous- 
 ness of loud lamentations over this soothing passing 
 from a grim unreality to a gentle unreality. The dead 
 man, he knew, would feel as he felt. The others missed, 
 as they had always missed, the right interpretation of 
 things. They might at least leave him alone to struggle 
 with the besetting shades of life, to gain some terra 
 Jirma of reality ! Since that misty April night when he 
 had listened for his father's last words, he had been drift 
 ing in a sea of sleep, clutching now and again at a 
 thought that promised support. 
 
 When Aunt Julia and Uncle John arrived, he had felt 
 sympathy with their sober, repressed grief. Their pres- 
 
 34
 
 THE REAL WORLD 35 
 
 ence divided the little house of mourning into two camps : 
 the Eussells were laboriously courteous and distant, and 
 the two old country people were evidently ill at ease. 
 Jack noticed the division and openly joined the weaker 
 party, spending his time with them, scarcely speaking to 
 his mother's relatives. He knew that the Russells looked 
 at his shabby clothes and commented on his table-man 
 ners, and condoled with his mother over him as one of 
 her evident trials. At the family council, held shortly 
 after the funeral, he was excluded ; he learned from Mary's 
 remarks that his fate had been settled by a high-handed 
 edict. He was to accompany his mother and Mary to 
 Coffin's Falls and find a place there in some store. Steve 
 was to remain in his present place until the Russell 
 influence could be exerted toward obtaining a better 
 position in Boston or New York. 
 
 "I won't go," Jack announced to Mary, unpassion- 
 ately. " If the family is like him, I don't want to live in 
 the same town with 'em." And careless of Mary's pro 
 tests, he went to seek out his Aunt Julia and Uncle John. 
 
 "Aunt Julia," he demanded, "will you take me back 
 with you ? It won't be long before I can earn my living, 
 and I can help Uncle John. If you don't " 
 
 But his threat was never uttered, for the dumpy old 
 Englishwoman replied in her soft, rolling utterance: 
 "Why, Jock, your uncle and I thought maybe you'd 
 come to us, but your mother's folks were so sot agin it 
 and mortal proud that John got in a huff and wouldn't 
 say a word." 
 
 The boy closed his lips doggedly, and said no more to
 
 36 THE REAL WORLD 
 
 his aunt. When the Reverend Talbot Russell entered 
 the room, Jack turned to him. 
 
 " I'm going to Maine with my uncle and aunt, Uncle 
 Talbot," he announced without parley. 
 
 "You're very abrupt, my boy," the tall clergyman 
 answered, an icy smile creeping over his waxy face. 
 " That is not the way to reject the kind offices of your 
 relatives, who offer you the advantages of life." 
 
 But he made no further objections to Jack's decision. 
 Doubtless he argued that there would be one less un 
 fortunate for the Russells to protect, and that a lad with 
 such loutish instincts as to prefer these illiterate people 
 to the society of Coffin's Falls would scarce become a 
 source of family pride. 
 
 So it was arranged that after Jack had helped to pack 
 the furniture of the Pancoast Lane house he was to 
 take the coast steamboat from Boston and follow his aunt 
 and uncle to Pemberton Neck. These were not pleasant 
 days : his mother and Steve let him see how wanting in 
 " family feeling " he had shown himself. They taunted 
 him with the homeliness of the farmer-folk whose lot 
 he had chosen. The boy was made to feel that he was 
 abandoning his caste in the world and wilfully sinking to 
 a low level the level of neighbor Cliff, or, worse, old 
 man Cliffs hired man, dirty, tobacco-chewing Mike. 
 Isabelle Mather would avoid him more than ever ! But 
 Jack held his tongue, and worked away stolidly at the 
 barrels and boxes. 
 
 This tearing to pieces of the home the only habita-
 
 THE REAL WORLD 37 
 
 tion he had ever known was a grim dismemberment 
 of some stage-scene. The play that had been enacted 
 there could never be repeated. The boy was somehow 
 glad of that : it had been a gloomy mistake. None the 
 less was it a solemn thing to dismember this past, to lay 
 away the broken elements of what had been. These 
 household things once dislodged and scattered, the last 
 signs of that little world which his people took for 
 real, in which his life had been set, would pass like smoke 
 into the vast heavens. As he worked, he thought of his 
 father, he knew not where, and he was sure that he 
 was content to have the painful scene through which he 
 had toiled, dispersed. 
 
 The last night he was summoned from the kitchen, 
 where he was tying together pots and kettles, to the de 
 nuded dining room. Steve and Mary were sitting on the 
 barrels and boxes. His mother had been crying. 
 
 "John," she sobbed, "you can go to-morrow morning 
 with us as far as Boston since you have made up your 
 mind to abandon your family." 
 
 Jack's jaw dropped sullenly. He hated the injustice 
 of woman's logic. 
 
 " You're a great fool, Jack, to leave your mother and 
 sister," Steve added, "and go down there with those 
 people." 
 
 " I guess you don't want me much ! " Jack retorted 
 defensively. 
 
 " How can you say that ! " Mary exclaimed tearfully. 
 
 "I always said you were a Pemberton or a Max 
 well." (The Maxwells were his father's mother's people,
 
 38 
 
 a degree lower in Mrs. Pemberton's estimation than the 
 Pembertons.) 
 
 " Pm glad I am a Pemberton," Jack answered hotly. 
 He did not know what it was to be a Pemberton, but he 
 wished to strike out in loyalty to his father. " And I 
 don't see as Steve is doing such an awful lot for you or 
 Mary." 
 
 Steve cast one contemptuous glance at the boy, and 
 rolled his cigar between his lips. 
 
 "Some day you'll see the mistake you'll wish you 
 weren't a clodhopper." 
 
 " I won't be a clodhopper," the boy answered sullenly, 
 with a quick resolve to justify his choice. 
 
 As they went to bed, Jack shyly pulled his sister into 
 his room, and said to her : 
 
 " I didn't mean you, Mary. I'm sorry I shan't be with 
 you." 
 
 "But you trouble mother so!" Mary responded se 
 verely. 
 
 The next morning, however, Mary went out to the 
 Cliffs' garden and brought in a rose that she persisted in 
 pinning to the lapel of Jack's abbreviated coat. Mary 
 was punctilious about the sentiments. When they were 
 on the train for Boston, Mrs. Pemberton put aside the 
 thick veil she had drawn over her face, and called Jack 
 to her. 
 
 " Here is a prayer-book and hymnal," she said, with a 
 choking voice. " I hope you'll attend your own church, 
 and not that meeting-house where the Pembertons go." 
 
 These were the last words that he remembered after-
 
 THE REAL WORLD 39 
 
 wards his mother had spoken to him. Then he had 
 merely slipped the little books into his pocket with a 
 feeling of nausea at the religious counsel. What was 
 religion good for, if it did not make people gentler, 
 kinder ? And he had never seen it do that in his home. 
 Later, when experience had led him a little farther into 
 the secrets of his family life, he regarded these words 
 more tolerantly, trying to understand the curious relation 
 that religion has to the conduct of a woman like his 
 mother. That night, as he stood on the deck of the 
 steamboat and watched the harbor lights wink dimly in 
 the spring fog, he tried to think what was really true. 
 Was he heartless in resolving to leave his mother and 
 Mary ? He was sorry to leave Mary, he was sure of 
 that, and later he might be sorry to have left his 
 mother. But just now the solace of loneliness was infi 
 nite. That curious panorama that people had called his 
 world for sixteen years was fading into the gloom, as the 
 buildings of the retreating city shrouded themselves in 
 the night. That was not real, could not be real, the boy 
 told himself. The only real thing had been his father, 
 and he, too, had gone, half-explained, a sweetly sad 
 puzzle. He was left, pushing on like this vessel into the 
 damp, dark sea beyond the land. . . . 
 
 Early the next morning he roused himself in the stuffy 
 air of the lower cabin. Picking his way among the pros 
 trate, snoring figures that were scattered over the floor, he 
 went on deck. The boat was slowly steaming up the coast 
 between green islands. The sun that had barely peeped 
 above the horizon had not burned away the morning mist,
 
 40 THE REAL WORLD 
 
 which hung in huge, fantastic wreaths over the wooded 
 shores and bathed the vessel in gleaming dew. The air 
 was soft and damp ; the water, which the blunt prow cut 
 almost without a ripple, was cold and black. Little dusky- 
 edged waves from the wake of the steamer nibbled the 
 rocky shores of the islands. 
 
 No one was stirring except the silent pilot in the wheel- 
 house, who from time to time with an apparent uncon 
 sciousness moved the electric indicator under his hand, 
 as one by one the landmarks of the course came into view. 
 When the mist rose higher on the land, there emerged 
 green fields surrounding white cottages, with sometimes 
 a rude granite pier. The early cocks hailed the boat; 
 their jubilant notes rang with strange familiarity across 
 the silent water. Far away to the south the rays of a 
 belated light vied with the beams of the sun. The steam 
 boat passed on, sweeping in graceful curves from thor 
 oughfare to thoroughfare, silent except for the human 
 respiration of its boiler, steadily cleaving its way in the 
 still morning into the voiceless lands of the future. 
 
 As the sun rose higher, the resinous perfume from the 
 fir-covered islands floated out to the expectant boy, and he 
 breathed deeply the spicy wine of the north coast. The 
 sun drove the fog-wreaths higher and higher up the hills 
 behind the islands, until they rested in the dimpled sur 
 faces of their crests. These hills, bathed in purple to 
 their feet which touched the water, their heads crowned 
 with the white fog, impressive in their morning loveli 
 ness, were the most beautiful things the boy had ever seen. 
 Purple and gold and white and green, the forest-covered
 
 THE REAL WORLD 41 
 
 coast hills marched, step by step, to the unclouded sky 
 above ! This, Jack thought, had been his father's home. 
 He seemed to feel him standing by his side, his chest 
 heaving with the large air of his youth, his head erect to 
 the hills, as he had seen him once when he played 
 over his old cantata. In the still morning air the tri 
 umphant notes of the Song of Solomon floated out from 
 the spice-laden islands, filling the cool emptiness of 
 the spacious sea with its longing and hope. 
 
 " There's Pemberton Neck," the pilot said to the boy, 
 leaning out of his open window as the steamboat swung 
 around the black nose of a little island into an open bay. 
 
 The merest ruffle of the wind stirred the waters, send 
 ing a white streak like teeth upon the island's shore. 
 The chill black water threw off a scent of the ocean 
 that cut the warm spice of the firs. Across the bay, 
 immediately in the path of the steamboat, a finger of 
 land curved out to the ocean. Jack gazed entranced at 
 the dim line of rocks that marked it off from the sea. 
 There had been his father's home ; his, now, where life 
 was to be made.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 A YELLOW map of the county, dated 1850, hung in the 
 tiny hall of the Pemberton house. Its broad surface 
 enlarged the little section of Maine coast to the propor 
 tions of a German kingdom. Jack studied every inch 
 of it, tracing out the bays that cut like long fingers into 
 the land, folio-wing the rambling roads as they wound 
 around the heads of the bays, across the hills, and finally 
 disappeared into the adjacent counties. Every house 
 holder of that date had his name and homestead indi 
 cated upon the map. Along the shore of Green Bay, the 
 east defence of which was the curving peninsula of Pem 
 berton Neck, the Pemberton name appeared again and 
 again, with various combinations of initials. Near the 
 head waters of the bay, in the little town of Pemberton 
 Mills, and along the lower course of Parker's River, the 
 Pembertons were as thick as blueberries in their pastures. 
 
 " Most died out or moved away," Uncle John remarked 
 succinctly, adding : " The land hereabouts used to belong 
 mostly to the Pembertons or Maxwells, but in them days 
 there was shippin' up Parker's Eiver, and the Mills 
 was an outfitten port for fishermen." 
 
 The Pembertons that were left were " of no account," 
 u run out," as Aunt Julia, who was a foreigner, placidly 
 
 42
 
 THE REAL WORLD 43 
 
 admitted. Most of them that had had farms on the 
 Neck had been glad to sell their rocky acres to city 
 people when the first wave of summer immigration had 
 reached Green Hill Bay twenty years before. Up 
 country there were a few left, digging their stony 
 farms in summer and fishing in winter. Old Judge 
 Pemberton, who had been in Congress just after the war, 
 still kept his grandfather's house at the Mills, and occa 
 sionally in summer some of his family came from Phila 
 delphia and opened the old house. They were very 
 distantly connected with Jack's branch of the family. 
 Cousin Hadley Pemberton, over on the east side of the 
 Neck, had been shrewd enough not to sell all his shore 
 farm. In one corner he had put up a long, rambling, 
 thin wooden hotel, that even the northeasters had not 
 subdued to harmonious tints, and he was said to be 
 making money. He had some of the best " points " of 
 the shore still in his possession, which he was holding 
 for fabulous prices. 
 
 For the rest, the Pembertons had been rubbed off the 
 map in the last thirty years, or had grown poorer and 
 poorer, as the tide of affairs set more swiftly away 
 from Green Bay. A group of the country people could 
 scarcely gather in the store at Pemberton Mill without 
 containing one or more of these weaker offshoots of the 
 family tree. Bent, rugged, with knotty hands and un 
 couth feet, slow and timid, these were the "clod 
 hoppers " for whom Jack's mother had had her taunts. 
 
 Jack was known among them from the first as 
 " Arthur's boy," and after he left the store these distant
 
 44 THE HEAL WORLD 
 
 relatives went over his father's story again and again 
 as follows: 
 
 " Ain't exactly like Arthur." 
 
 Arthur didn't do very well." 
 
 He was a smart boy, but soft with the girls." 
 
 I hear his wife thought an awful sight of herself." 
 
 " Wouldn't have nothin' to do with John and Julia." 
 
 " Arthur didn't get much, marryin' that woman." 
 
 " Music feller, weren't he ? " 
 
 And so forth, until some unknown spirit moved and 
 separated the party. 
 
 These uncouth, poverty-betraying figures explained a 
 good deal to Jack of his mother's and sister's feelings of 
 social difference. Even the dingy house on Pancoast's 
 Lane was not like the close little frame cottages an 
 attic above two rooms that M^ine farmers lived in. 
 
 John Pemberton's house was of this type; the broad, 
 two-story, square farmhouse of the Massachusetts country, 
 which Jack had expected to find, did not exist in Maine, 
 except as an occasional instance of wealth in the vil 
 lages, such as Judge Pemberton's brick mansion. But 
 Aunt Julia, of thrifty Yorkshire descent, gave the little 
 farm at Parker's Kiver an air of comfort. The cottage 
 glistened with white paint; the sweet-pea vines rioted 
 in the thin soil; and the barn had a salty cleanness 
 and freshness about it. There was not much farming, 
 a cow, a horse, some hens, a pig, a few fields pied 
 with daisies and buttercups to till, and a salt meadow. 
 Uncle John made his living out of the stone quarry over 
 the hill beside the bay, and out of his old schooner, the
 
 THE REAL WORLD . 45 
 
 Julia P., that lay up in the cove by the bridge. Past 
 years he had fished off the Banks, but since one spring 
 he had returned from Prince Edward Island with Aunt 
 Julia, he had given up venturesome pursuits, and taken 
 more assiduously to the stone quarry. 
 
 He was a little man with a red bunch of a beard hang 
 ing from his chin, an untidy bald head, and eyes set in 
 furrowed wrinkles. He had welcomed Jack, not demon 
 stratively, but kindly ; for deep in his heart he had kept 
 warm his admiration and loyalty for the brilliant older 
 brother, in whose behalf the family had spent their little 
 hoard years ago. He taught Jack to split the rough 
 blocks of Belgian pavement that were piled up beside the 
 bay for shipment in the fall. Days at a time the two 
 sat under a rude shelter of an old sail stretched over a 
 wooden frame, and clipped, clipped at the native rock, 
 silent, with a passive sympathy for one another. Or the 
 boy helped the old fisherman with his lobster-pots, learn 
 ing to know the sea in its unruffled moods at dawn. Dur 
 ing the summer season Jack was sent to the hotel and 
 the cottages on the Neck with lobsters or vegetables or 
 milk. These excursions into the strangers' lively world 
 were the least tolerable tasks of the year ; for in spite 
 of all his good sense, he felt that he was justifying Steve 
 and his mother in their sneers. The back doors of the 
 cottages, the hired servants who chaffed him, stirred a 
 pride that he despised in himself, but could not conquer. 
 
 For the most part, however, existence was calm, pleas 
 antly empty of events, colored by sensations of the clear, 
 dry atmosphere and spicy woods and salt water. The
 
 46 THE BEAL WORLD 
 
 mechanical labor of the stone-shed and the lobster sloop 
 dulled his mind and soothed the vigor of his strong 
 limbs. The silent meals with his uncle and aunt were 
 never dreary. It was a peaceful, monotonous period when 
 nature was unfolding her plant robustly, unconsciously. 
 As the summer waned, there was less to do; and fine 
 afternoons Jack could tramp over the country after game, 
 or sail across the bay to the purple hills which had lifted 
 up his soul the day he came. He learned to know the 
 woods in their most revealing time, the brooding days 
 when the first leaves fall gently, and the seasons have 
 come to their full time. 
 
 His uncle and aunt talked of his " schoolin' " as the 
 winter approached. They had their plan. Ira Pember- 
 ton's boy had been at the " Commercial Institute " in 
 Rockland, and had graduated after two years into a 
 clerkship in Bath. Ira's boy had not impressed Jack 
 pleasantly. He was a sharp village boy, who imitated 
 in his clothes the youth at the cottages. But as Jack 
 had nothing else to suggest, he entered the Eockland 
 business college. Early in the spring he returned to 
 the Neck to help on the farm, and the second summer 
 slipped away as the first. When Christmas had passed 
 and Aunt Julia was making preparations for his going to 
 Eockland, Jack spoke his mind : 
 
 " I can't go back there, Aunt Julia," he said squarely. 
 
 " Why ? " the comfortable woman asked with soothing 
 slowness. "Don't they treat you right, Jock? They 
 say it's a good school."
 
 THE REAL WORLD 47 
 
 " I learned all they have to teach about bookkeeping in 
 a few weeks and there isn't anything else." 
 
 His aunt waited patiently. She could not understand 
 his repugnance to the cheap country boys with their talk 
 of fifteen dollars a week, their dream of getting to Boston 
 or Portland as the farthest goal in life. They were am 
 bitious "clodhoppers," but worse than the simple animal. 
 
 " What are yer goin' to do if you don't try bizness ? " 
 she asked at last. " You don't want to hang around 
 here like them fence-rails up to the store." 
 
 " I don't know yet," the young fellow answered. " I 
 guess I'll find out some day." 
 
 "Don't go dreaming, Jock," his aunt commented 
 pleasantly. 
 
 " I've been speaking to Hadley about yer," Uncle John 
 put in rather morosely. " He might take yer for second 
 clerk at the hotel, if yer'd finished your schoolin' up at 
 Kockland." 
 
 "I can do his job," Jack answered confidently, and 
 then added more slowly, "and I will. I'll go over to 
 see him soon. I won't disappoint you." 
 
 "I'm afraid he's going to be like his father," Aunt 
 Julia remarked later to her husband. 
 
 " He won't get no help here for any foolishness," John 
 Pemberton answered grimly. " Hadley'll show him what 
 to do to get a dollar. He's smart enough." 
 
 So when Hadley Pemberton's big hotel on the Neck 
 opened the next June, Jack Pemberton registered the 
 early guests, and, as the country girls had not yet come
 
 48 THE REAL WORLD 
 
 from the normal schools, waited upon them at table. 
 There were only a few old people the first week, who did 
 not embarrass the awkward boy. Yet, as he stood be 
 hind their chairs and took their orders, his white apron 
 dangling about his legs, he was conscious of what his 
 mother would feel should she suddenly appear. When 
 the rest of the "help" arrived, however, he would not 
 be obliged to wait at table. 
 
 The second Monday of his service more guests came, 
 and at dinner a party of people from one of the cottages 
 had a small table to themselves. As he stood by them 
 to get orders, one of them, a middle-aged gentleman, his 
 head bent over the menu, growled : 
 
 " Waiter ! Take that dish away ! And don't touch my 
 chair. Here, this napkin is damp." 
 
 He uttered these complaints without looking from the 
 menu, and continued to his table companions, "That's 
 the trouble with these Maine hotels, beastly service 
 country louts." 
 
 Jack, whose hand had fallen carelessly on the back of 
 the stranger's chair, started as if he had touched hot steel. 
 His face crimsoned, and his arm twitched. Something 
 inherent in every self-respecting American made him 
 loathe his position even more than he detested the man 
 who had insulted him. He had convinced himself that 
 his mother's feelings about such matters were silly, and 
 yet when it came to the pinch, a dumb instinct of self- 
 respect made him revolt. He took the offending dish 
 with a sweep of his hand, as if he were about to throw it 
 at the stranger's bent head. His eyes met the intelligent
 
 THE KEAL WORLD . 49 
 
 glance of a young woman who sat opposite the man. 
 He had not seen her before, and his hand was arrested 
 in its violent motion. She was smiling sympathetically, 
 as if she had caught the whole thing and understood his 
 feelings better than he did. When his eyes met hers, 
 the smile deepened. 
 
 It was a wonderfully speaking face! Every feature 
 seemed to do its best to make constant expression. The 
 warm gray eyes, the curving mouth, the soft little hands 
 that strayed over the table-cloth, smoothing it out, all 
 spoke meaningly. As Jack paused, the objectionable dish 
 suspended in the air, the man looked up impatiently and 
 would have burst out again. 
 
 " Won't you get me a glass of water, please ? " the girl 
 interposed quickly, holding up the thick tumbler and 
 smiling at the young fellow. When Jack took the 
 tumbler from her fingers, she detained him by an imper 
 ceptible motion of her hand, and asked in a low, resonant, 
 half-laughing voice: 
 
 " What is your name ? You weren't here last year." 
 
 f'Pemberton," Jack muttered thickly; "Jack Pem- 
 berton." 
 
 "Thank you, Mr. Pemberton," the girl said quickly, 
 throwing the merest stress on the conventional title of 
 respect. " Mr. Gushing would like a dry napkin, if you 
 can get it for him ; and bring us all some clear soup and 
 fish, if it's nice." 
 
 She paused and looked up seriously into the young 
 fellow's face, as if she were relying upon his judgment 
 and good will in an important matter.
 
 50 THE HEAL WORLD 
 
 " If it's fresh, you know, right out of the Bay. What 
 do you think ? " 
 
 "My uncle caught it this morning," Jack replied 
 simply, blushing again. " And I brought it over here." 
 
 "Ah, that's the kind! A personally conducted fish 
 right from the water." 
 
 He went out to the serving-room with his tray, feeling 
 that he had been despatched on a confidential mission. 
 Years after, when his experience had shown him the 
 tactful manners of many facile people, this woman's 
 simple method of direct approach remained as potent as 
 on that day. 
 
 "You'll spoil him, Elsie," her mother objected 
 placidly, when the boy had gone. 
 
 " Don't think it," the girl laughed. "You can't handle 
 these people like club waiters, Mr. Gushing. That boy 
 may be your governor, or something. He has a keen 
 face, handsome, don't you think so? Oh, you didn't 
 notice you were fussing over your napkin ! I am as 
 hungry as the Frenchman at Pau. That beastly steam 
 boat gives you such an appetite. Did you see the 
 wretches strewn about the floor this morning " 
 
 She galloped on, with a never-failing zest for talk, 
 taking the commonest incidents as hurdles for her dash 
 ing humor. 
 
 Outside in the serving-room Jack Pemberton was biting 
 his lip in mortification and self -consciousness, hating him 
 self, his uncle, Hadley Pemberton. When he appeared 
 finally with his great tray piled high above his flapping 
 apron, he heard the girl's laughing tones :
 
 THE REAL WORLD 51 
 
 " Here comes my Ganymede ! How like Jove's eagle 
 he bears aloft " 
 
 They had been making sport of him ! Suddenly he 
 placed the dishes on the nearest table and went out to 
 the serving-room to order one of the newly arrived girls 
 to wait on them. 
 
 After dinner the clerk, who had come from Boston on 
 the afternoon boat, gave his assistant a lesson in his 
 duties as head waiter. 
 
 " You don't want to shoo the people to their seats like 
 a country sexton at a funeral. Just walk up the dining 
 room as if you were leading the band, and pull out the 
 chairs so, with a flourish, so the folks will feel grand as 
 they sit down. And show some sense between folks. I 
 saw you hustling that old man Wilkinson to his seat and 
 lettin' A. R Wyman find his place himself. Wilkinson 
 and his family take two small rooms in the annex, and 
 Wyman has the best suite every year. Keep your wits 
 about you and know your people. Mr. Cushing's been 
 kicking to me about you already." 
 
 The clerk, a trim, carefully dressed young man, who 
 was third assistant clerk in a Boston hotel, continued his 
 instructions in a not unkindly manner, as if he were con 
 scientiously rehearsing the rudiments of a good educa 
 tion. As they sat down to their supper with the house 
 keepers, he concluded his remarks : 
 
 "You want to jolly 'em up ask how the fishin' has 
 gone. Inquire now and then whether everything is all 
 right, and tell 'em you'll speak to Mr. Pemberton when 
 they kick. And when things give out in the kitchen,
 
 52 THE REAL WORLD 
 
 make up a good story, stuff 'em with taffy all you can, 
 anyways. The feller that had your place last year was a 
 college boy, and he carried away two hundred dollars, 
 besides his salary and keep for the ten weeks." 
 
 Jack took his supper at the hotel, for he relieved the 
 clerk at the desk during the evening hours. The house 
 keepers gave him little attention, confining their interest 
 to the head clerk. They talked about the new arrivals 
 and the cottage owners. 
 
 " Did you see Mr. Cushing's yacht, The Skylark, come 
 in to-day?" the first housekeeper asked. "It's an 
 chored up the cove, off Parker's Point." 
 
 " He's awful sweet on that Mason girl this time," the 
 second housekeeper added. "It's the third season his 
 yacht's been in here most all summer last year." 
 
 "He's a high roller," the clerk commented. "His 
 wine bills are more'n all the rest of the hotel put 
 together." 
 
 "Well, the girls don't see his money he's as mean 
 as dirt." 
 
 "I guess Lettie did," the clerk added significantly. 
 The women giggled, and looked suspiciously at young 
 Pemberton. 
 
 "Where is she now ? " 
 
 The clerk shrugged his shoulders as if to say how 
 should he know where were the snows of yesteryear. 
 
 " I saw her once drivin' in Fifth Avenue." 
 
 "With him? Oh, he's a hard one." 
 
 " Say, that cook you got from New York is just fine." 
 And the talk went on in mumbled mouthfuls.
 
 THE REAL WORLD 53 
 
 All that evening Jack furtively watched for another 
 view of the girl whose rapid eyes had read him so easily ; 
 but in vain. He handed out keys, discussed the arrival 
 and the departure of mails, sold postage stamps, listened 
 to complaints about chambermaids, and answered the 
 thousand little aimless questions of the pampered 
 " guests," but never once did the girl or her mother or 
 Mr. Gushing come through the broad open doors from 
 the veranda. When the clerk, who had been out driving, 
 came in, Jack ventured to ask him what rooms the Masons 
 had. 
 
 "Oh, they ain't in the hotel this year," the clerk 
 answered nonchalantly. " They've rented the big Peters 
 cottage up around Parker's Point." 
 
 As Jack went home he made a detour by way of the 
 shore road. When he reached the summit of a little hill 
 that shelved off gradually into the water, he noticed the 
 dark lines of a schooner yacht, its night lights burning 
 dimly in the damp air. The Peters cottage on the crest 
 of the hill was well lighted, and as he lingered he heard 
 the tinkle of a piano, now soft, now loud, as though 
 played by an idle hand in the interludes of desultory 
 talk. 
 
 He walked on between the bayberry-scented thickets 
 in the still night, realizing dimly some of the social facts 
 of life which had seemed so grotesque in Pancoast Lane. 
 This gayly lighted cottage was a territory as much be 
 yond his reach as the Shah of Persia's palace. He did 
 not know that he wanted to reach it especially. But he 
 resented the fact that he was kept within the territory of
 
 54 THE HEAL WORLD 
 
 the clerk and the housekeepers and the waitresses, that 
 his was the back door entrance upon life. In a way the 
 cottage realm was no more real than the servants' table 
 realm, but for the first time he was conscious of a desire 
 to pick, to choose his world, not to have it thrust upon 
 him in the careless revolutions of fate. 
 
 Aunt Julia and Uncle John were sitting up for him, 
 and when he came in, they asked slowly, hiding their 
 curiosity behind a lethargic calm : 
 
 "How are you gettin' on up at the hotel? Hadley 
 said anything ? " 
 
 " I guess if s all right," he answered wearily. " Some 
 things well and some things badly. I can keep the books 
 all right and give satisfaction, when I've learned how 
 to smooth people out. I'm going to bed," he concluded 
 abruptly. 
 
 "He don't seem just contented," Aunt Julia remarked 
 after he had gone. 
 
 " I guess he'll make out," Uncle John replied, as he 
 gathered up his discarded boots. " Ther's a place there 
 for a clerk, so Hadley told me, if he takes hold. Hadley 
 pays that feller from Boston a hundred dollars a month 
 and keep. He'd give Jack seventy-five next year ! " 
 
 Later he ventured to express a doubt : 
 
 " I hope he won't go messin' round with them table- 
 girls. Arthur was a great hand for girls, more's the 
 pity." 
 
 " I never heard Jock mention a thing about a girl," 
 Aunt Julia replied placidly. "Seems as if he never 
 looked at 'cm."
 
 THE EEAL WORLD 55 
 
 " Oh ! he can look all right," the old fisherman retorted 
 slyly. 
 
 Above, underneath the peak of the roof, Jack was 
 trying to get to sleep, his brain heated with confused 
 ideas. He kept hearing the clatter of heavy crockery 
 as it slid back and forth in the hands of the dish 
 washers, the fanning to and fro of large doors, the shrill 
 exclamations of the waitresses, the tinkle and clash of 
 plates and knives and forks in the big, bare dining room. 
 He jumped from his hot bed, and put his head out of the 
 tiny window. The night air was heavy with salty fog, 
 and the hills across the bay were dark as if a thick cur 
 tain had been let down at the end of an act. The face 
 of the girl who had looked into his eyes came out of 
 the mist and stayed with him.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 "WHAT are you doing there ? " 
 
 Jack straightened up and blushed, as he recognized 
 the Masons' smart little run-about and the young woman 
 who held the reins. She had pulled up her horse ab 
 ruptly, and held him firmly as he tried to get away down 
 the bush-fringed road. 
 
 " I'm cutting balsam for the hotel. They're going to 
 have some show or other this evening." 
 
 " How nice it smells ! Here, Tom, take the trap home." 
 
 She cleared the awkward wheel skilfully, and shook 
 herself as she lightly touched the road before Jack could 
 offer her any help. 
 
 "Drive on, Tom," she said quickly, turning toward 
 the young clerk. " I'll help you. I drove over to Ledge 
 Harbor stupid place to luncheon, and I didn't know 
 what to do before dinner. This is nice ! " 
 
 She threw herself luxuriously on the bundle of boughs 
 and tore off her hat, stretching out her well-shod feet with 
 the air of a nicely licked kitten. The white waist and 
 stiff piqu^ skirt were more becoming than the clothes 
 she had worn on the few occasions when Jack had caught 
 glimpses of her. As she lay stretched out on the green 
 boughs, her brown hair crushed against her white neck, 
 she was a figure of perfect animal freshness and vitality. 
 Jack devoured the picture in awkward silence. 
 
 66
 
 THE REAL WORLD 57 
 
 "Don't stand there staring at me. Get about your 
 work and let me see how you select the balsam." 
 
 He began to cut branches feebly, but in a few minutes 
 sat down at the edge of the pile. 
 
 " It's too fine to work. Besides, I've got most enough." 
 
 " Tell me," the girl demanded abruptly. " How do you 
 come here? You aren't old Hadley Pemberton's son 
 you aren't one bit like any of them. I could see that 
 when you almost flung that dish at Mr. Gushing." 
 
 She laughed merrily, and suddenly stopped, turning 
 her eyes appealingly on the boy as if he were the one 
 essential person she had ever met in the world. 
 
 " My father came from here," Jack replied rather stiffly. 
 
 "What did he do? What was he?" the girl asked 
 brusquely, as if between them there would be no reserves. 
 " You know I like to find out all about people and what 
 they do, and I knew you were new at the business." 
 
 " He was a music teacher," Jack said shortly. 
 
 " And you are fond of music ? " she pressed on eagerly. 
 
 " I don't know anything about it. My mother wouldn't 
 let me learn she was afraid I'd grow up to be a music 
 teacher." 
 
 "And she didn't think much of the profession," the 
 girl suggested coaxingly. 
 
 "I guess she thought she thinks it beneath the 
 family, like being a drug clerk, or waiter in a hotel," the 
 boy ended sardonically. 
 
 " So you're going to be something different," she said 
 neutrally, as if she were merely drawing inferences for 
 her own amusement.
 
 58 THE BBAL WOBLD 
 
 " Yes," Jack replied shortly. 
 
 "What will it be?" 
 
 "I don't know not clerking in a hotel, I guess. 1 * 
 
 " I see," the girl mused. " You don't like waiting on 
 people " 
 
 " Not for their food and drinks and rooms." 
 
 "And you don't like the people you see." 
 
 " I don't know. I never saw many others. The girls 
 that work there are nice enough." 
 
 Miss Mason settled back on her balsam boughs and 
 shaded her eyes from the warm sun, patting her plump 
 arms approvingly. The boy continued : 
 
 "I don't like being different." 
 
 "From what?" Miss Mason turned her gray eyes 
 upon him wonderingly. 
 
 " From other people." 
 
 " But you're not. You're six feet tall, and built like a 
 varsity crew man, with two arms, two eyes, two ears " 
 
 "You know what I mean," Jack interrupted impa 
 tiently. But if she did know, she did not choose to let 
 him see it. Suddenly she pointed to the shore beneath 
 them and said, with a fresh burst of interest : 
 
 " What's that man doing down there ? " 
 
 "He's dipping salmon from a weir," Jack answered 
 indifferently. 
 
 " How does he do it ? I mean, how do they get in ? 
 Tell me all about it." 
 
 Her breathless eagerness made the boy laugh. 
 
 "Why, they swim in I'll take you over and show 
 you them at low water. It's my uncle's weir."
 
 THE REAL WORLD 59 
 
 " And is that your uncle down there ? " 
 
 Jack squinted at the dumpy little figure wading about 
 in rubber boots, and said slowly : 
 
 Yes." 
 
 " You live with him ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " If you don't get to work, Mr. Pemberton, they won't 
 have their decorative foliage for the ball this evening." 
 
 " I don't care to work for your amusement." 
 
 The girl sat up, a new wonder on her face. 
 
 " That isn't the way to speak to a woman." 
 
 "I don't know how to speak to a woman at least, if 
 she's any different from a man." 
 
 " She's very different from a man. That's your first 
 lesson in life. Tell her every time you can that you 
 are treating her just like a man and don't." 
 
 She jumped up from her couch and took the hatchet 
 from Jack. After cutting boughs until she was breath 
 less, she said : 
 
 " Now let's go home." 
 
 "I'll take you through the woods I know a way 
 over the hill to your cottage." 
 
 Miss Mason looked at him shrewdly, and then turned 
 up the hill in the direction he pointed. She walked 
 lightly, swinging her lithe body from stone to stone in 
 the rough road. She was alive with energy, like an 
 active child that perpetually must have fresh food for 
 its hands and eyes and mind. Every now and then she 
 stopped abruptly and peered at some object, a bug, a 
 flower, a bit of water in the deep hoof-mark left by a
 
 60 THE REAL WORLD 
 
 cow, and each time she chatted about it like a wren 
 building a nest. 
 
 The boy watched her eagerly, absorbed in her fine, 
 rapid motions, in her breathing, abundant life. He had 
 never seen any one so wonderfully alive. She was froth 
 ing like a heady wine, and brilliant like a tree in the 
 sun. It made no difference what she said or did; it 
 was all alike unexpected and apparently important. He 
 was immensely curious in a shy way to know more about 
 her, what she did, what she said about things, what 
 people she saw. 
 
 "Hello!" Miss Mason exclaimed, as the road came 
 out into an open field. "There's a new yacht in! I 
 bet it's Tommy Enderson's. We'll have some sport if 
 it is. This place is as dull as a German spa; don't 
 you think so?" 
 
 Jack wondered what a German spa might be, but he 
 busied himself in helping his companion over a stile 
 where the barbed wire caught her skirt. He carefully 
 unhooked the skirt from the fence while she watched him 
 seriously, her face very close to his. He turned his eyes 
 once from the skirt and noticed how much like a child's 
 the girl's face looked at close range, the soft skin, the 
 serious gray eyes, the trembling curve of the mouth. 
 She breathed in little gasps like an excited child. 
 
 " Don't make eyes at me, clumsy ! " she commanded. 
 "You'll tear it, and I haven't another decent frock to 
 cover me with." 
 
 And then, when he had finally extricated her, she 
 gave him her hand graciously and stepped daintily over
 
 THE REAL WORLD 61 
 
 the stile. There was only one field more between them 
 and the cottage ; Jack was suddenly anxious to ask some 
 questions. Finally he stammered : 
 
 " What makes people different ; men, I mean ? n 
 
 " They're born different, I expect." 
 
 "That isn't all. I mean what makes Mr. Robinson, 
 the clerk, different well, from that Mr. Gushing," he 
 blurted out, at a loss for a better example. 
 
 "Why, why everything," she answered, looking at 
 him with curious eyes. 
 
 " It isn't money, is it, altogether ? " He pressed for a 
 definite answer. 
 
 "They've lived differently," she answered more seri 
 ously, " known different kinds of people, had different 
 opportunities in society." 
 
 " How have the men you know lived ? " 
 
 " Some of them have had money. The best of them 
 came from good families, where they always saw nice 
 people, and had advantages." 
 
 Unconsciously they walked more closely together. 
 Jack had noticed that whenever she was especially inter 
 ested she drew very close to his side, an instinctive ex 
 pression of comradeship, her arm brushing his, her elbow 
 touching his in the uneven passages of the road. Now 
 she loitered and looked confidingly into Jack's face, her 
 gray eyes round with sympathy, in constant wonder over 
 the dramatic surprises of life. 
 
 " Then if a man isn't born so as to have the right sort 
 of people around him, he will always be ( different ' ? " 
 Jack asked simply and incisively.
 
 62 THE BEAL WORLD 
 
 "Why, there's education!" the girl exclaimed. "I 
 forgot that. That counts so much nowadays I " 
 
 "What do you mean by education?" 
 
 " Why, why I can't tell," the girl stammered, more 
 puzzled. " Knowing things, silly ! No, not that : looking 
 at things in a way that isn't common, being clever 
 oh, heavens, boy ! ask me something easier." 
 
 " I am not a boy," Jack retorted stiffly, drawing away 
 from her as if to indicate that, if her interest was a con 
 descension to his youth and inexperience, he would have 
 none of it. 
 
 "Yes, you are," she laughed back, "or you wouldn't 
 be asking me such fool questions ! " 
 
 He laughed in the contagion of her good spirits. 
 
 " The men I've known," she continued, considering the 
 question seriously, "the most interesting, were college 
 men. I don't mean college made them interesting, but 
 they came from the great universities." 
 
 " Oh ! " the boy rejoined, illuminated. " Harvard and 
 Yale?" 
 
 " Yes, but I've seen regular muffs duffers, you know, 
 who were Harvard or Yale men. It isn't enough to go 
 there; you've got to be the sort that gets something 
 out of it, polish, poise, ideas all that. Wow! what a 
 stretch you put my brain to ! " ... 
 
 " I see ! " the boy exclaimed. He walked on musingly, 
 his mind probing the fresh considerations his companion 
 had suggested ; he was so absorbed in them that he did 
 not notice when they reached the little gravel path of 
 the cottage.
 
 THE BEAL WOELD 63 
 
 "Won't you come in?" Miss Mason asked heart 
 ily. "Come in, and we'll have something good to 
 drink." 
 
 Jack hesitated a moment, instinctively drawing back 
 from any contact with this other, more privileged exist 
 ence, and then glancing into the spontaneous, winning 
 face of the girl, he yielded to her and threw down the fir 
 branches. 
 
 In the large living-room of the cottage a little group of 
 chattering men and women were seated about a wicker 
 tea-table in various lounging attitudes. As Miss Mason 
 opened the door, letting in the strong sea-breeze, with a 
 touch of the ardent summer sun, the talkers paused and 
 looked at her, each one expecting to be relieved of his 
 individual ennui. 
 
 " Anything good to drink ? " she demanded generally. 
 " I know Bushy has had something better than tea. Oh, 
 mother, let me present to you Mr. Pemberton." 
 
 She brought the name out slowly and looked about at 
 the various faces, with a little smile of amusement. A 
 middle-aged, rather fleshy woman extended a hand to the 
 stranger. "Glad to see you where have you been, 
 Elsie ? " 
 
 "And Miss Chesney," the girl continued, her quiet 
 amusement deepening. 
 
 A tall, handsome young woman with strong features 
 nodded imperceptibly and looked at the awkward boy. 
 
 " And Mr. Gushing," Miss Mason ended. 
 
 The man, whom Jack had judged to be over fifty, but 
 was really hardly forty, mumbled some acknowledg-
 
 64 THE BEAL WORLD 
 
 ment, and turned abruptly to Miss Chesney : " The beast 
 bolted, and I told Harry " he continued. 
 
 Miss Mason was shaking hands with a pale girl who 
 sat at one side. She looked at Jack as if expecting an 
 introduction, but Miss Mason apparently forgot her 
 charge. Miss Mason seemed to treat this visitor less 
 easily than the others, and the two girls were soon in 
 the thick of talk. Jack, left to himself, was infinitely 
 angry that he had been beguiled into his position. He 
 glanced about the rooms ; there was a profusion of photo 
 graphs, books, music-scores, some odd-looking candle 
 sticks, and strange, dull pieces of old silver. To him the 
 cottage seemed luxurious and complete, as if these peo 
 ple had been living in it for years, instead of weeks. 
 The ornaments, in themselves of slight value, gave an 
 impression of personal refinement, of individuality. In 
 one corner over a writing table was draped a piece of 
 stained brocade, giving what Miss Mason's friends called 
 her " touch," her sense of " effect." 
 
 He was wondering how he might escape from these 
 people who talked on without heeding him. Suddenly 
 Miss Mason came toward him with a cup of tea; he 
 blushed afresh and refused it, consciously. 
 
 " Bushy," the girl remarked, still standing by the boy, 
 " do you know, I believe Tommy Enderson's yacht is in. 
 Mother, Tommy'll be here for dinner. Get out all your 
 wine and your beer, for Tommy is uncommon dry when 
 he reaches Maine." 
 
 The pale girl's face looked polite contempt. Miss 
 Chesney remarked :
 
 THE BEAL WORLD 65 
 
 " Tina said he would be in some day this week." 
 
 " Tina isn't going to have him," Miss Mason retorted. 
 ** We'll carry him off tinder Tina's sharp little nose." 
 
 " Elsie ! " Mrs. Mason protested feebly. 
 
 A new-comer a fresh-colored, tall young man slipped 
 into the group with a familiar nod and word to all. Jack 
 managed to rise and indicate the fact that he wanted to 
 depart. He did not like Miss Mason here, as he had 
 liked her on the boughs, in the wood road. There was 
 something cheaply flippant and common in her famili 
 arity with the world, which he did not understand. 
 
 " You'll come again ! " the girl said cordially, looking 
 into his face with her pleading, personal air. "And 
 we'll go down to the shore, won't we ? Bushy, Mr. Pem- 
 berton is going to take me whale-fishing down by the 
 cove in those queer places." 
 
 Mr. Gushing made no sign of having heard anything, 
 and in a moment Miss Mason was talking to the new 
 young man. Jack knew that he should have gone before. 
 By the time his back was turned, the group was at its 
 chaff once more, without a thought of him. The boy's 
 color rose, and he ground his teeth, foolishly. He would 
 take care not to let himself be caught in that way 
 again. 
 
 Once outside the cottage, however, on the deserted 
 road, in the cool sharp shadows of the Maine twilight, he 
 forgot his personal annoyance, and as he hurried to the 
 hotel with the balsam, his heart was suffused with a 
 gentle happiness, a personal warmth, that it had rarely
 
 66 THE REAL WORLD 
 
 known. The girl had a warm, clinging charm that sur 
 mounted her brusqueness, her slang, her careless man 
 ners, that set her quite apart. He could see her smile, 
 hear her breathless words, sounding in his ears like a 
 bustling brook among the hills. 
 
 In a patch of raspberry bushes beside the road he 
 noticed the calico sun-bonnet of a little girl. The child 
 had fallen asleep under the bunches of syrupy, ripe, red 
 berries, and as she lay, her little arm doubled under her 
 stained face, he caught a close resemblance to the young 
 woman he had left, the same full, curving, little lips, the 
 soft, moist cheek like the skin of dew-sprinkled fruit. 
 The girl was but a bounteous child. He gathered up the 
 stray morsel under the berry bushes and carried her 
 tenderly, still asleep, to the cottage across the road. 
 Thus shielding her from the damp dews, he seemed in a 
 way cherishing the woman who had spoken to him out 
 of the silent reaches of his unpeopled world. And the 
 man's instinct for expression of love, for protection and 
 service of something wayward, awoke with a fierce ten 
 derness, a hunger that threatened his content. 
 
 A good many days followed in which he caught no 
 glimpse of Elsie Mason. Miss Chesney he saw at the 
 hotel once or twice, and received a cool, slight nod. 
 When he met Mr. Gushing on the wharf, that person 
 passed him over as one of the idle loafers that fre 
 quented the boat-landing. Every night on his return 
 to his uncle's cottage he took the winding " cove road," 
 with a boy's shy hope of some accident in the routine 
 of life. But the Mason cottage remained like the other
 
 THE BBAL WORLD 67 
 
 cottages sprinkled over the Neck a little world by 
 themselves, whose occupants came and went, passing him 
 heedlessly on the hard highroads of life. 
 
 But his mind was at work, pondering minutely certain 
 ideas set in motion by this ignorant, careless girl. She 
 had touched his imagination with vague fancies of a 
 larger existence than he had ever dreamed of. At the 
 hotel there was living a tutor, who coached certain hours 
 each day the idle sons of the cottagers, who had failed 
 in their examinations at Harvard and Yale. From him 
 Jack learned what he must know to enter a large uni 
 versity. Then he wrote to his sister, asking her to send 
 him the books Steve had used at the Academy. And the 
 good-natured tutor, who had felt the sting of ambition 
 in narrow circumstances, lent him other books and helped 
 him with the cleverness of the expert in furnishing 
 the least possible information required for a pass-mark. 
 Thus, blindly, the boy stretched out his hands to an 
 other future. 
 
 Later when his uncle asked him if the Boston clerk 
 couldn't get him a place in a city hotel for the winter, 
 he answered steadily : 
 
 " I don't want one. I am going to college as soon as 
 I can get in." 
 
 In the agony of his tongue-tied habit of mind, the old 
 fisherman could only scratch his head. 
 
 "You doan't want to fuss with books," his aunt 
 answered, flattening her vowels in the excitement of her 
 fear. " That's loike your fayther. You're going the 
 same way, and he didn't get much satisfaction "
 
 68 THE REAL WORLD 
 
 " Where ? " Uncle John jerked out at last. 
 
 " Harvard. That's the biggest and best." 
 
 His tone was so calm and confident that it disarmed 
 much of the protest. He spoke as if it were a small 
 matter of choice, upon which he had exercised his judg 
 ment and could not be stirred. 
 
 "Land save us!" his uncle spluttered. "You speak 
 as if you were a millionnaire's son ; one of them fellers 
 that go about summers in cotton drawers. Where do you 
 think the money'll come from ? " 
 
 " I don't know. I shall have a little in the fall, and 
 the fellow that's tutoring at the hotel says you can get 
 on somehow, if you are smart enough." 
 
 "It's your father over again," Uncle John replied, 
 more calmly, sadly. " He didn't get on fur. I thought 
 you'd seen the dog-arned foolishness of it, and was goin' 
 to make money." 
 
 " Perhaps I shall," the boy protested. " There were 
 other Pembertons beside my father who went to college, 
 and they did something there's Judge Cyrus, and 
 Elwell Pemberton " 
 
 The fisherman waved his hand resignedly. He accepted 
 the decision without comment, in the dumb, fateful man 
 ner of the silent puritan. He never referred to the 
 question again. But to his wife, later, he said, " Same 
 as Arthur, same as Arthur ! " 
 
 " Except for the women. He doesn't trouble with the 
 girls much." 
 
 "He will fast enough, when that comes on him," the 
 old man replied dejectedly.
 
 THE REAL WOULD 69 
 
 "He's full of dreams, Jock is, goes 'round as if 
 folks and things were no more than a basket of clothes 
 pins." 
 
 "I guess he'll learn 'taint so 'fore he gets through 
 with the world." 
 
 " He's chock full o' dreams," the old woman repeated, 
 self-satisfied with her analysis, and without complaint. 
 The world held such people once in so often, and it was 
 useless to worry yourself over them. They would right 
 themselves sooner or later, after one or two knocks 
 against the surfaces of circumstance, or sink submerged 
 in their own folly.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 THE "help" in the hotel were to have their annual 
 picnic the last week of August. They were to take 
 buckboards to a little shanty on a lake among the hills, 
 and have supper and a dance, returning by moonlight, 
 like the "city-folks." The affair was managed by the 
 chief clerk, who left most of the details to Jack. At 
 first Jack was determined not to go, for the manners 
 of some of the "table-girls" made him uncomfortably 
 shame-faced, and he remembered with disgust how the 
 buckboards passed his uncle's house the year before, 
 the men shouting inanely, the women laughing immod 
 erately. He thought they were all drunk. But as the 
 day for the picnic drew nearer, he feared that his refusal 
 to join them would be taken very ill by his fellow-laborers, 
 and he was ashamed of his desire to keep apart from 
 them. 
 
 So, after the dinner at the hotel, which had been put 
 forward to give the servants a long evening, he got into 
 the last buckboard with two girls, rather quieter than the 
 others, with whom he felt more or less at home. The 
 drive out to Clear Lake in the cool twilight was demure 
 enough. The two girls on his seat left him alone, he 
 fancied they were rather provoked at having him for 
 an escort, and talked to themselves about the people 
 at the hotel and the cottagers. 
 
 70
 
 THE REAL WORLD 71 
 
 "The Mathers have four girls and two men," Hope 
 Haskins observed. 
 
 " The Masons have only three," Ruth Maxwell replied 
 tolerantly ; " but they're real nice people, not a bit fussy. 
 And do you see how the Mason girl dresses she had 
 on a long, cream-colored coat the other day when it 
 was cold broadcloth. My! it makes your eyes pop 
 out. And she has a different waist for every hour in 
 the day " 
 
 "She ain't anythin' to compare with that Chesney 
 girl," Hope broke in, disdainfully. "The Masons ain't 
 much tryin' to know folks, I guess; but General 
 Mather is the real thing, a first-class swell, and barrels 
 and barrels of money. And Mis' Mather has her own 
 maid, a foreign woman, I shoiild think, by the looks of 
 her. She wears clothes fit for a queen herself." 
 
 " Well," Ruth drawled, picking at the sleeves of her 
 stiff shirtwaist, " I want nothin' better than the Masons. 
 I waited on table for 'em wheu they first come, before 
 they begun housekeeping and I know real nice people 
 when I see 'em. Mis' Mason gave me this skirt." 
 
 Jack found himself listening with interest to the 
 gossip about the two families. Suddenly Hope ap 
 pealed to him with a little conscious laugh : 
 
 " Say, Mr. Pemberton, ain't that young college feller 
 down here a-studyin' with the General's son?" 
 
 " He's tutoring him for Harvard," Jack replied. 
 
 " I see you're quite thick with him. Thinking of being 
 a college boy yourself ? " 
 
 " Perhaps," he admitted uncomfortably.
 
 72 THE REAL WORLD 
 
 " Won't you be fine, with one of them great shirts on, 
 covered with figures like a cashmere shawl ! " 
 
 The girls giggled and looked at the boy quizzically. 
 
 " You'll be too grand to wait on table and run 'round 
 with ice-pitchers, I pre-sume," Hope drawled teasingly. 
 
 " Most too fine now," her companion giggled. " He'll 
 be puttin' on a swaller-tail coat and takin' his dinner 
 up to the cottages." 
 
 " Look how Mr. Cramp is carryin' on with Sadie. He 
 ought to be ashamed of himself, teasin' her like that. 
 Say, Mr. Cramp, who was the girl you went out sailin' 
 with last Sunday ? " 
 
 The young man on the front seat, who combined the 
 duties of barber with those of barkeeper, turned and 
 winked. 
 
 " I know another girl who'd 'a' liked to been there." 
 
 "Oh, you do!" his companion, Sadie Pemberton, a 
 fat, red-cheeked girl, scoffed. " You can keep your old 
 boat to yourself, Mr. Cramp. I've my own feller. I 
 don't have to pick up with any city dude that clips 
 hair." 
 
 "You don't, don't you?" the young barber jeered. 
 " Well, come in some day and let me clip that bang for 
 you. Ladies in fashion aren't wearing bangs this year. 
 They does their hair up in a mop, so." 
 
 He illustrated the fashion by grasping the thick braids 
 of his companion. She squealed, and the barber put his 
 arms around her to hold her. She shrieked louder and 
 fought energetically, until the rest of the buckboard was 
 aroused and took part in the game. Hope and Ruth
 
 THE REAL WORLD 73 
 
 tried to pinch the barber's arm in intervals of giggles. 
 Finally Cramp released his grip. 
 
 "You're sorry now!" he exclaimed, looking at Jack 
 and winking broadly, as if to say, " That's the way to 
 handle the girls." 
 
 Ruth Maxwell turned to Jack. 
 
 "They do carry on dreadful. That Cramp feller is 
 awful rude with the girls." 
 
 Kuth was known among the girls of the hotel as 
 "pious." She attended prayer-meeting in the Mills 
 meeting-house every Wednesday evening. She was 
 slight and thin, with a flickering complexion of a red 
 sweet-pea blossom. Jack had noticed that she was too 
 frail to carry her heavy trays, and had often relieved her 
 when he could. She nestled closer to him away from 
 the boisterous party, who were teasing Sadie Pemberton. 
 For the rest of the drive Jack talked with Buth, and she 
 confided in him her ambition " to go up state to the Nor 
 mal School " and teach. She did not like " hotel work," 
 but " pop " had six children, all girls but one. And Jack 
 gathered that " pop " was rather shiftless. 
 
 When the buckboard drew up by the shanty known 
 as Clear Lake Hotel, the two were good friends. Jack 
 helped the other men to unload the case of beer and the 
 packages of cake and pie, and to build the fire. There 
 was no necessity for the fire, but Cramp insisted on one 
 being built. What was a picnic without a fire? The 
 blaze was started amid much chaffing and joking. 
 Cramp received a box on the ear from a frisky kitchen 
 girl and returned it with good will. The girl cried,
 
 74 THE REAL WORLD 
 
 and the Boston clerk rebuked Cramp for being so " tuff 
 and loud." There followed an explosive altercation 
 between the barber and the clerk, who made a favor 
 able impression by saying that, " All these young ladies 
 don't want such impoliteness." Finally the dispute 
 was drawn by a joke, and the party scattered into the 
 woods and along the fine sandy beach of the lake, 
 two by two. The clerk led off the assistant house 
 keeper to "Moonlight Dell." Cramp poled Sadie Pem- 
 berton in a leaky, flat-bottomed scow after lily-buds. 
 Jack found himself with the gentle little table-girl; 
 the two strolled beside the still lake that lay as light 
 as day under the full moon. The pastry-cook, a tall 
 auburn-headed man, disappeared with his companion into 
 the thicket ahead of them. In the uncertain broken 
 moonlight Jack caught sight of the man's arm about 
 the girl's waist, and a moment later his keen ears de 
 tected the sounds of a faint, affected protest from the 
 girl. He imagined that the arm had been drawn more 
 tightly about the woman's waist. Euth had seen the 
 man and the girl, too, and had heard the noise in 
 the thicket. She laughed a little self-consciously, re 
 marking : 
 
 "Some men are so awful rude and heady!" 
 Jack, realizing that the manner rather than the act 
 offended his companion, made no reply. He felt ill at 
 ease, here in the soft moonlight and shadow, with so 
 much merry, frank courting going on around him, and 
 this girl brushing close by his side. 
 " That's what they most always do at these suppers,"
 
 THE REAL WORLD . 75 
 
 Ruth continued as Jack remained silent. " They get off 
 in the woods by themselves " 
 
 Her sentence was interrupted by a shriek followed 
 by a loud giggle from a point across the lake. Jack 
 stepped on impatiently, irritated with himself for " feel 
 ing goody," as his companion would have said. 
 
 "Some folks don't mind letting the whole world 
 know what they're up to," Ruth observed rather cen 
 soriously. 
 
 "Let's walk out to the point over there," Jack sug 
 gested hastily, and hurried on his companion. 
 
 When they reached the spit of sand that he had indi 
 cated, Ruth sat down, saying she was " mortal tired and 
 couldn't drag a step." Jack threw himself on the sand 
 by her side and said nothing. 
 
 " Don't you like girls ? " Ruth asked at last. 
 
 " I don't know many," Jack admitted. 
 
 " Hain't you any sisters or cousins ? " 
 
 "One sister. Plenty of cousins hereabouts. I sup 
 pose that Sadie Pemberton is one of my cousins same 
 name and same district." 
 
 Ruth settled herself more comfortably very near her 
 companion. 
 
 " I kind 'er thought you didn't fancy girls." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "Oh! all the girls at the hotel say so. Some think 
 you're stuck up, but I said it weren't so." 
 
 " I haven't anything to be stuck up about," Jack ob 
 served. 
 
 " You're awful good to me I "
 
 76 THE BEAL WORLD 
 
 Jack flung a stone into the water. It dimpled the sil 
 ver surface for a moment. Then Ruth began a new subject. 
 
 " I had a feller keepin' company with me last winter. 
 He worked in a store up at Stacey's Falls, and used to 
 come over Sundays, but pop didn't like him. Pop was 
 real mean." 
 
 "Did you like him?" Jack asked, to make conversa 
 tion. 
 
 " Pretty well. He weren't rough like that Cramp fel 
 ler. He gave me that ring." 
 
 She held out her hand : the little palm was white and 
 bloodless ; a small gold ring circled one of the red fingers. 
 The little hand wasted and red from the constant 
 washing of heavy dishes appealed to Jack. It might 
 have been such a pretty hand, soft and delicately tapered 
 like Miss Mason's. 
 
 " There's some kind of a foreign stone in it can you 
 see?" 
 
 Jack took the proffered hand in his, and examined the 
 ring more closely. Euth bent her head nearer, and they 
 looked at the ring without speaking. At first Jack 
 found it awkward to drop the hand, and then as he kept 
 it, he had a strange, new pleasure. The gentle little 
 girl by his side, with her sweet-pea color, and delicate, 
 wistful features, pleased him. She did not seem to mind 
 his holding her hand. A restful, dreamy look stole over 
 her tired face, and he knew that she was very grateful to 
 him for being with her, for not being " rough " like the 
 others. He put his arm behind her to shelter her, and 
 insensibly she nestled closer and closer.
 
 THE REAL WORLD 77 
 
 An unknown desire stirred his heart to thumping. A 
 temptation swept over him to taste a sweet that seemed 
 almost at his lips. Then, unaccountably, he hated him 
 self for the thought, as for a piece of infidelity to some 
 thing he knew not what. He dropped the girl's hand 
 and drew himself away a very little. The impulse of 
 the moment the desire to taste and feel even for an 
 instant a mortal, human thing passed. Kuth looked 
 at him with startled, reproachful eyes. 
 
 "Jack," she murmured, and obedient to her need of 
 him, he took her hand again. With a sigh she let her 
 head fall on his arm, close to his burning face. 
 
 " Save me ! save me ! I'm drowning ! " 
 
 The cries came from the lake behind the point. Jack 
 started up and ran to the shore. In the deceitful light 
 he could see a boat floating, a dark spot on the silver 
 water, and a man struggling to crawl upon its up 
 turned bottom. The shrieks were from another figure 
 floundering in the water a dozen feet from the boat. 
 The man, who was Cramp, got on top of the boat and 
 joined his cries to the woman's. 
 
 " She's drowning ! Save her ! " 
 
 " Why don't you help her, you fool ! " Jack cried out, 
 as he threw off his coat and waded into the water. By 
 the time Jack reached them, the fat girl was breathless 
 with terror and speechless from the water that she had 
 gulped down. He got her ashore without much trouble ; 
 and in a few minutes she had revived enough to limp to 
 the fire, holding his arm. The company, startled by 
 Sadie's cries, came in from the nooks where they had
 
 78 THE REAL WORLD 
 
 been carrying on their flirtations. The barber appeared 
 last, trying to wring the water from his coat as he 
 walked. 
 
 " Oh, you good-f or-nothin' dog ! " Sadie gasped at him, 
 shaking her fist. 
 
 " Come, now, Sade, I was afeard of your tongue," the 
 barber protested, trying to regain his swagger. 
 
 " Before I trust myself to a drinkin' man again " 
 
 " He's cold water, now," the pastry-cook observed. 
 
 " I guess I'll mix a drink," the barber retorted, fetch 
 ing a flask from the baskets. 
 
 "None of that!" the clerk said warningly. And 
 Cramp was too depressed by his ruined clothes to insist 
 upon having his drink. 
 
 The incident furnished talk and wit for the supper, 
 which was eaten indoors about a roaring fire for the 
 sake of the three wet people. When the "lager" was 
 opened, the hilarity of the party rose by leaps and 
 bounds. Sadie persisted in heaping attentions upon Jack, 
 who, she averred, had saved her from drowning in that 
 filthy pond. Jack protested that the water was not four 
 feet deep where she was upset. But nothing could pro 
 tect him from the girl's devotion. As Cramp's jealousy 
 rose, her efforts increased. Then some one struck up a 
 waltz on the wheezy piano in the corner, and Jack, pro 
 testing that he could not dance, found himself whirling 
 around the room in the firm embrace of the plump Sadie. 
 The others joined in the romp, bumping and jostling 
 each other with the greatest good humor. Cramp had 
 seized Euth, and as they passed in their frantic whirl,
 
 THE REAL WOULD 79 
 
 Jack could feel the girl's reproachful glances. But his 
 robust partner held him in an iron embrace. 
 
 Suddenly the door swung open, letting in the calm 
 moonlight and the damp, cool air. Jack glanced over 
 the shoulder of his panting partner and caught sight 
 of Miss Mason's cool gray eyes measuring the scene. 
 A little smile flickered over her mouth, a disdainful, 
 impertinent smile. With her were several young women, 
 and among them the pale young girl Jack had seen at 
 Miss Mason's cottage. A tall gentleman, whom he recog 
 nized as General Mather, and his son were talking with 
 the clerk, and presently they went outside, shutting the 
 door. 
 
 " Don't let us disturb you," Miss Mason said coolly to 
 the embarrassed group. "We've met with an accident; 
 nothing serious." 
 
 " We should like to enjoy your fire, if you will be kind 
 enough to let us," her companion added, in a more friendly 
 manner. " But do keep on with your dance, or we'll go 
 outside and wait." 
 
 Jack's face burned with resentment at Miss Mason's 
 manner. He turned his discomfited eyes to the young 
 girl who had just spoken. She, too, seemed to be look 
 ing at him in response to a low word from Miss Mason. 
 Jack divined that she was the General's daughter, the 
 little girl of the summer house beyond Cliff's garden. 
 Perhaps she remembered him, too ! He turned his back 
 brusquely on the new-comers, defiant, yet provoked with 
 himself ; he was where he belonged in the social scheme 
 of things.
 
 80 THE REAL WOULD 
 
 " Pray, go on," Miss Mason remarked, picking her way 
 daintily among the beer bottles and luncheon baskets 
 towards the fire. As she passed Jack she smiled patron 
 izingly at him, adding fury to his embarrassment. 
 
 " Come," he said roughly to his stout partner ; " let's 
 dance ! " 
 
 But the girls were giggling and talking among them 
 selves. Finally Cramp stepped forward as spokes 
 man: 
 
 "The ladies were saying, miss, that if you'd take a 
 turn, we'd be very pleased " 
 
 " I don't care to dance," Miss Mason replied shortly, 
 after eying the man with cool scrutiny. She turned to 
 the fire and tapped the bricks with the toe of her boot, 
 as if the place did not exist for her. Her manners were 
 so unlike what Jack expected from her, that he thought 
 they must be due to the presence of the Mathers. Yet 
 Miss Mather, turning to Euth, said : 
 
 " You haven't a partner. Will you dance ? I can waltz 
 man-fashion. Come ! Miss Mason, please play for us." 
 
 Miss Mason thumped out " The Belle of New York " 
 on the rusty piano in true music-hall style. But the 
 party danced slowly and uncomfortably. The other 
 strangers stood about the fire in conscious attitudes, 
 talking among themselves. They were lithe, strong, 
 young creatures, conspicuously well dressed, with mo 
 bile, pretty features. Not one was beautiful, but all 
 were attractive. They gave the rough room another 
 atmosphere, and the men and girls stared at them 
 admiringly.
 
 THE KEAL WORLD . 81 
 
 After a time the barber went up to Miss Mather and 
 asked her to dance. She hesitated, -while Miss Mason 
 watched her from the piano; but then the door opened 
 and the others returned. As the intruders went out, Miss 
 Mason passed close to Jack. When he drew back stiffly 
 and turned his face away, she paused and said teasingly : 
 
 " You haven't time to come to see me ? Are you too 
 busy with your friends ? " 
 
 "I guess I don't want to see you again," the boy 
 blurted out bitterly. 
 
 " Oh ! " the girl laughed. Good night." 
 
 The little adventure ended the dance. The girls and 
 men stood about discussing the strangers. 
 
 "Your Mis' Mather don't dress much different from 
 us," Kuth observed scornfully, to Hope. 
 
 " She don't have to," Hope answered discerningly. 
 
 " She ain't a good color, just a plain little girl," 
 added the barber, who resented his repulse. "Now I 
 like a real good color." 
 
 " Peony ? " 
 
 " So you tried to see if it would wash ! " 
 
 Sadie's cheeks flamed amiably under the chaff. When 
 the clerk said that it was time for them to start, Sadie 
 consented to sit next to Cramp. As one buckboard had 
 been surrendered to General Mather's party, Jack and 
 Kuth were crowded into the same seat with Cramp 
 and his partner. Cramp's arm was about Sadie's waist, 
 and his knuckles dug into Jack's ribs. This contact 
 irritated the boy, and Cramp's witticisms about Miss 
 Mather enraged him. The fact that this girl who had
 
 82 THE REAL WORLD 
 
 given him his first snub should have found him there 
 with the servants disturbed him more than Miss Mason's 
 supercilious manners. He seemed to prove that she was 
 right as a little girl in refusing his acquaintanceship. 
 And he was angry with himself for caring about this, 
 for being ashamed of his companions. What was Miss 
 Mason to him, or the others ? These were his people, 
 Ruth and Sadie and Cramp. Yet when Ruth made little 
 advances, he scarcely answered her. His face burned as 
 he thought of their talk by the lake, of how near he 
 had been to playing the fool with this girl. He could 
 not help contrasting these women with the girls in 
 General Mather's party, and though he said to himself 
 contemptuously " fine feathers," yet the memory of their 
 pretty clothes, their delicate features, and white-gloved 
 hands imposed itself upon him. 
 
 The noisy buckboards jolted over the stony roads 
 to the accompaniment of little shrieks and bursts of 
 empty laughter. Sadie squirmed in Cramp's embrace. 
 The pastry-cook tickled Ruth with a bayberry branch 
 from the seat behind, and Ruth complained in a queru 
 lous giggle, until Jack turned and seized the bayberry 
 branch and flung it into the road. 
 
 " What's the matter with you, Snifty ? " the red 
 headed man asked truculently. 
 
 By the time the buckboard drew up before his uncle's 
 cottage, Jack felt that the party were glad to be rid of 
 him. He had been a kill-joy. 
 
 " Go to bed, Sissy," the pastry-cook called out, as the 
 horses started.
 
 THE BEAL WORLD 83 
 
 " Don't let your 'ma know you've been out with the 
 girls," Cramp added. 
 
 "Please don't! I'm too young!" Sadie cackled in 
 a falsetto note. 
 
 The buckboards disappeared down the hill in a rattle of 
 small stones and a cloud of dust, with a trailing sound 
 of loud laughter. Jack kicked a pebble into the road 
 with vicious emphasis. The full moon shone placidly 
 over the fields and rocky shore. The little cottage lay 
 like a white tent in the soft gleam. The unearthly 
 stillness of the place settled like a balm on the boy's 
 troubled spirit. 
 
 What had made him thrill in response to that stupid 
 little girl ? How did those men amuse themselves fool 
 ing with loud-mouthed, silly women? Miss Mason, 
 Euth, Sadie, Hope, all of them were sickly, unpleas 
 ant phantoms. He stretched his strong young frame 
 with a shrug of contempt. His should be a world of 
 men
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 NEVERTHELESS lie was not to escape so lightly from 
 the world of women. His fellow-workers at the hotel 
 amused themselves with guying him, the girls more in 
 sistently than the men, as if resenting his distaste for 
 their sex. And the picture of the other young women, 
 of Miss Mason especially, haunted him with unprovoked 
 tenacity. He could not seem to free himself from the 
 images created that night. 
 
 One day he took himself off into the woods, drawn by 
 the silence and the calm of the purple hills across Green 
 Hill Bay. His road ran up the windings of the Neck, 
 across the farms of Parker's River, where his people had 
 once thrived, around the marshy head-waters of the Bay, 
 and then into the dense thickets of the slope. The day 
 was still, as if summer were brooding over its departing 
 glories, but above in the treetops of the higher slopes 
 there sounded now and then the meditative rustle of the 
 autumn wind. The clear air, like an old, rare wine, was 
 warmed with the sun, which lay invitingly in the open 
 glades of the forest. The exhausted streams trickled 
 deep in their brown beds, talking in the ruminative 
 manner of the hills. As he mounted higher along the 
 first ridges of the range, he caught glimpses of the blue 
 waters of the Bay and the long, spruce-wooded Neck. 
 
 84
 
 THE BBAL WORLD 85 
 
 The yachts of the summer people lay still as chips be 
 yond the steamboat wharf. On a higher slope, which 
 gave a view of the coast for many miles, edged to the 
 west by a billowy sea of green woods, he stopped, content 
 with his position. The sun drew out pungent, resinous 
 scents from fir and spruce and arbor-vitae. He threw 
 himself down on a bed of dry moss, and thought as the 
 sun sloped down into the woody plain behind. 
 
 There beneath him lay the fields where his people had 
 lived and prospered and died out. Now he knew what 
 it was to be a Pemberton ! And he knew, also, what his 
 mother and Steve aspired to be like those inhabitants 
 of the cottages on the Neck, like the people at the hotel 
 for whose trivial wants he was hired to fetch and carry. 
 And he desired neither. The distorted, coarsened figures 
 of his cousins Pemberton told the story of a life of narrow, 
 undeveloping toil. And something in his serious nature 
 made him scorn, likewise, the ostentation, the cheap 
 luxuries of " the city folks." Instinctively he felt that 
 the two were not far apart in the ultimate standard of 
 things: Ruth and Sadie and Cramp, and those they 
 served and envied. No ! neither a square white cottage 
 in the rocky fields, nor a " place " on the Neck : life must 
 hold more than these two aspirations. 
 
 He wondered what his father had asked of life when 
 he looked forth, from the same calm height, over the 
 fields of the Pembertons. Some impulse must have 
 stirred in that soul which he had known only in cloud, 
 some great thirst to taste the unknown, to sail out of this 
 Bay to the larger fields of men. And so he had set forth,
 
 86 THE BEAL WORLD 
 
 under the spell of this desire, to suffer shipwreck, alas! 
 only a little way from port. He, too, might meet the 
 same catastrophe, moved from the humble harbor of his 
 race by the same blind desire. His jaws closed un 
 consciously, broadening the hard sweep of his chin. 
 Well, then, let it be failure ! For he should make trial 
 of life, how, he was yet at a loss to say. He had few 
 landmarks to steer by, the idle suggestion of an idle 
 woman, the imagination of a boy over the privileges of 
 others ! . To college, for a few years, and then where ? 
 
 Some deep spirit, murmuring like the summer stream 
 far down in the secret fastness of its rocky bed, promised 
 that light would shine upon the way. The void of life, 
 the peaceful calm that had filled the place of the abortive 
 images of Pancoast Lane, would be peopled. Life would 
 come, the real life, flooding into the empty bays like the 
 swift tides of the north, the real life that tantalized 
 him now with rare glimpses of its beauty, yes, the real 
 world! He should know what was meant for eternity 
 and what was the mist of the hour. . . . 
 
 His head sank back on the cool moss, and his eyes 
 pierced the multitudinous leafy forest to the swimming 
 blue above. The thick, syrupy scents of the oozing firs 
 drowsed away his consciousness ; the peace of the large 
 woods, of the deep-hearted sea, carried him away. 
 
 And the unpeopled vista began to fill with shapes of 
 men and things, shapes that he had never seen before, 
 even in his swift glimpses of the other world. He moved 
 among them as he would among solid objects, and he 
 knew they were quite real, not fictions between him
 
 THE KEAL WORLD 87 
 
 and his neighbors. Finally they marshalled off and left 
 him climbing, climbing, swinging upwards through a cool 
 forest of exquisite shade, with flashes of light like glints 
 from steel swords, until he was alone, yet suddenly not 
 all alone. For a woman was looking at him, some one 
 who knew an incredible amount that he did not, and yet 
 who supplicated him with a smiling glance. She seemed 
 to sketch stories of strange lives playfully, as if knowl 
 edge were nothing, and at the same time to plead with 
 him for protection against what? To plead for love 
 and tenderness. Her face was more living than any 
 human face he had ever seen; the muscles of her bare 
 neck rippled under the repression of speech ; and the 
 skin of her cheeks and temples had the silkiness of vital 
 flesh. She was so immensely tender ! and yet so plead 
 ing with him for protection, beautifully supplicant! 
 He found himself asking her, almost pettishly , " Where 
 have you been all this time ? " 
 
 And when she smiled, he added, more masterfully : 
 "I don't like living with shadows. Don't go away 
 again. I knew you were somewhere. Come, let us go 
 home and be happy." 
 
 He stretched out his hand to lead her over the rocks, 
 and found the place very dark. He turned over to get 
 at the light and her, and then he knew that she was not 
 there. 
 
 As he betook himself down the dark hills, he was quite 
 sure that she lived. This woman's eager, speaking face 
 was utterly unlike the countenance of any woman he had
 
 88 THE REAL WORLD 
 
 ever seen. Yet was she much more real than anything 
 vouchsafed him hitherto! He could turn his eyes on 
 that vision at will, and feel the living, breathing actuality 
 of it. It thrilled through his senses with a richness, an 
 intimacy of emotion, that he had never imagined. He 
 was fearful lest it should prove a picture of the hour, 
 fading as he emerged into the dusk of the lower fields, 
 like the purple garment of the hills. So, while he brushed 
 on through the dew-scented grass, he kept turning his 
 thoughts to her, suifusing himself with the subtle con 
 sciousness of her existence while it lasted, as the heated 
 bather plunges his fiery face again and again into the 
 water. Each moment he feared would be the last, but, 
 to his joy, he discovered that it went on, this intimacy 
 with the real, sharpening itself, rather than dulling, by 
 use. 
 
 And for months and years thereafter in all the troub 
 lesome fret of the intangible world, this vision of the 
 real stayed with him, keener at some periods, fainter at 
 others, like a scarce-perceived scent about things laid 
 away. But always fragrant with its own ineffable sweet 
 ness and tenderness, filling his soul with yearning, with 
 belief, with courage.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 HE did not forget the girl who had given him the first 
 great purpose of his youth. As he passed the Masons' 
 cottage twice a day, he secretly desired the courage 
 to go in. He knew that the Masons with the Mathers 
 and a few other families were to linger on into the 
 golden second summer. Most of the cottages were clos 
 ing one by one; the hotel was to be shut at the end of 
 the next week. Then he would have ten days to him 
 self for his mathematics and Latin before the exami 
 nations began. The tutor, who remained for Ned 
 Mather, had promised to give him more help. The tutor 
 thought he had a fair chance of passing in enough sub 
 jects to admit him to Harvard. 
 
 One afternoon he met Miss Mason on the road near her 
 cottage. He was hurrying diffidently past with a bare 
 word, but she stopped him and stood to chat. 
 
 "Did you have a good time the other night at your 
 party ? " she asked familiarly. 
 
 " No ! " he answered shortly, offended at the easy im 
 pudence she showed in referring to the occasion where 
 she had snubbed him. He would have left her, if he 
 had known how to do so. 
 
 "I saw that the thin little girl with the red cheeks 
 was making eyes at you. E-uth isn't that her name?
 
 90 THE REAL WORLD 
 
 Her mother does our washing. If you don't look out, 
 Ruth will snare you. And the big one, too, the one you 
 were dancing with. Who is she ? " 
 
 "Why do you talk about them to me?" Jack ex 
 claimed angrily. " You despise them and me. I guess 
 they're all right, as good as the folks up at the hotel. 
 Besides, I'm not going to bother with girls ! " 
 
 " Oh ! " she bowed mockingly. " Good afternoon, Mr. 
 Pemberton." 
 
 The glossy leaves of a rank blackberry creeper threw 
 flickering shadows over the girl's fair skin. In spite of 
 her words, she did not move, but looked into his face 
 with a teasing smile. 
 
 "I'm going to college this fall," he explained, "and 
 maybe I shan't come back to the hotel." 
 
 " Mr. Ferris, the tutor, told me you meant to try the 
 examinations. Do you think you can pass ? " 
 
 " Somehow ! " he answered lightly, with the assurance 
 that might send him straight on his path. " I guess I 
 won't be a star, but I'll get in somehow." 
 
 " What do your aunt and uncle think of it ? " 
 
 "Just Pemberton foolishness," Jack replied, with a 
 laugh. " Which way were you going ? " he added, for 
 getting his resentment. 
 
 "Nowhere just yet; to the Mathers' later." 
 
 "The Mathers used to live near us at Kiverside. I 
 didn't expect to find them up here," Jack remarked 
 irrelevantly. 
 
 " General Mather's house was the first summer cottage 
 on the Neck. Did you know them ? "
 
 THE HEAL WORLD 91 
 
 "No," Jack answered quickly, and then added, "Do 
 you like them the Mathers ? " 
 
 " Not much," the girl responded impassively. "They're 
 great swells in their way and snobs." 
 
 The characterization was precisely what his own would 
 have been, yet it displeased him to have her use those 
 words. They jarred with the unconscious ideal of refine 
 ment he had created for her. And it surprised him to 
 find that in this world of summer leisure where she lived 
 there were grades, differences, circles within circles. 
 
 "I see something of Ned Mather at the hotel. He 
 seems to be a good fellow." 
 
 "Oh! he's slated for the usual thing all the best 
 clubs at Harvard, and a chair in papa's office when he 
 graduates." 
 
 " I thought General Mather wasn't in business," Jack 
 observed with curiosity. 
 
 "Did you never hear of the banking firm of Lord, 
 Mather, and Greenacre ? The General doesn't do much. 
 His eldest son goes to the office when he hasn't anything 
 better to do. They just keep the firm going, it's so old 
 and respectable. They made their money in cotton mills 
 years and years ago, and so they have the right to look 
 down on any money that's come since the war." 
 
 " Do you see much of 'em in New York ? " Jack ven 
 tured to ask. 
 
 The girl laughed good-humoredly. 
 
 " You don't mind asking questions ! I never met them 
 before this summer. When we return, Mr. Eoger will 
 probably pay his respects to me once or twice, but his
 
 92 THE KEAL WOULD 
 
 mother and sister won't. Is there anything more I can 
 tell you about my affairs ? " 
 
 "I didn't mean to be impertinent," Jack answered 
 penitently ; " only you know such a lot more about peo 
 ple and things than I do." 
 
 " I don't mind telling you," the girl responded warmly. 
 " Come, let's do something. Don' t you want to cut your 
 job for an hour or two ? I am not dying for the Mathers' 
 society this afternoon." 
 
 " I'll sail you over to Seal Island," Jack suggested im 
 pulsively, grateful for her kindness, which was but the 
 whim of a capricious will. "The surf is great there 
 now." 
 
 They turned up the road in the direction of the boat- 
 landing, Jack tremulous with sudden pleasure, his tongue 
 tied with multitudinous thoughts, unexpected things he 
 wanted to say to this strange, beautiful, impulsive crea 
 ture. They passed the tennis courts at the hotel, where 
 the young people of the settlement were gathered. They 
 hailed Miss Mason frequently, and she stopped to chat now 
 and then, while Jack watched her furtively, fearful lest 
 she might escape him. On the float were a large party 
 who were preparing for a sail, and as soon as Miss Mason 
 appeared, she was greeted with an approving chorus. 
 The girl enjoyed the commotion she created, and she 
 enjoyed still more the looks of amusement and surprise 
 which came when she refused to join them. At last they 
 pushed off, and Jack was relieved. Suddenly a new 
 danger appeared in the person of young Mather, who 
 came ashore from a yacht anchored in the cove. Jack,
 
 THE REAL WORLD 93 
 
 whose heart had been jubilant, saw himself discredited. 
 When Koger Mather approached Miss Mason with an 
 air of special ownership, as if their meeting had been 
 the most expected thing, Miss Mason's flippant manner 
 changed; she was almost ill at ease. Mather spoke to 
 her in low tones, and she seemed to hesitate. Then in a 
 moment she responded unhesitatingly : 
 
 "Sorry, but Mr. Pemberton and I are going over to 
 Seal Island." 
 
 The young man looked over the girl's head at Jack 
 with the impertinence of perfect self-possession. 
 
 "Ah!" he observed, and he loitered on the landing 
 stage while Jack got the boat ready, hoisted the sail, and 
 pushed off. Miss Mason's face had clouded over, and 
 Jack, though grateful to her for her kindness, was sorry 
 that he should be the means of her embarrassment. As 
 the boat floated out from the calm water of the cove, he 
 thought of the gay, prettily dressed girls, the handsome 
 young fellows with slightly arrogant manners, to whom 
 Miss Mason belonged. These sons and daughters of 
 wealth, for whom he labored in a menial position, ordi 
 narily meant nothing to him. They had their horse- 
 show, their library fair, their dances, their picnics, their 
 dinners, and made a great fuss over their amusements. 
 For all that, he had had a mild contempt and no envy. 
 They passed him on the hotel verandas, on the road, in 
 the shops, at the landing stage, and he was merely not 
 one of them: he was an unfelt ghost. But to-day, this 
 afternoon, while he waited when she stopped to gossip 
 with them, his feelings had changed. What made them
 
 94 THE REAL WORLD 
 
 all so different! The girls whose fathers had often 
 started their lives in more sordid lines than his had the 
 elusive, faintly aristocratic air which wealth gives the 
 American woman. The possession of riches that was 
 the necessary step toward being one of this gay little 
 world. Then, as he reflected upon the strange influence 
 the Mathers seemed to have over Miss Mason, he felt 
 that something more than money was ultimately neces 
 sary. The boy was anxious to learn what this difference 
 might be. 
 
 "Do you like Roger Mather especially?" he asked 
 abruptly. 
 
 " No," Miss Mason answered promptly. She had been 
 pondering some matters also. She added frankly : " He 
 is very much the gentleman well-bred, all that you know, 
 more like foreign men, an Englishman of good family." 
 
 In a few moments Jack returned to the subject. 
 
 " Why are the Mathers better than the others ? You 
 treat them differently. Every one does here. You were 
 ashamed to know me the other day when I was with the 
 hotel crowd, just because the Mathers happened to be 
 there." 
 
 " You are a boy," Miss Mason laughed back, not dis 
 turbed at his accusation. " I suppose it's because most 
 of us are nouveaux, and the General has real position. 
 That's something you can't buy all at once. See ? " 
 
 Jack nodded. His next remark was quite as blunt as 
 the former. 
 
 "Are you much older than I am? You seem young 
 and old. When you're with folks, people," he cor-
 
 THE REAL WORLD 95 
 
 rected Ms idiom, " you are as old as the rest, but with 
 me" 
 
 "I'm nearly twenty," Miss Mason answered soberly. 
 "You haven't seen as much as I have, and a woman's 
 older anyway." 
 
 " I wish you would tell me " 
 
 He was about to say something that he already recog 
 nized would be rude, but refrained. 
 
 " What is it you wanted to ask me ? " she said, 
 settling back in her seat as if she had forgotten the Neck. 
 
 " Why were you so horrid the other night at Clear 
 Lake ? You despised those folks, people, and you 
 despised me for being there. But I'm no better than they 
 are. We are all as good as the next, I guess," he ended 
 belligerently, with the American faith in pure democracy. 
 
 "That's all rot," the girl answered calmly. "Are 
 those the people you want to live with ? Do you expect 
 to grow up here and marry one of them, a kitchen girl, 
 out of this hotel ? I don't believe it. I knew from the 
 moment I saw you that you weren't that kind. Now, 
 don't talk any nonsense about their being as good as 
 ourselves. Of course they are in the Constitution and 
 before God, but in the eyes of man they aren't The 
 first thing for you to learn is that they aren't like you, 
 that your life is going to be lots bigger, richer, stronger, 
 more interesting, than theirs. And the sooner you feel 
 that, the luckier for you." 
 
 The boy looked at her in simple amazement, and she 
 continued authoritatively : 
 
 "I've been all through that. Out in Zenobia, Ohio,
 
 96 THE REAL WORLD 
 
 where we used to live, I wasn't so very different from Sadie 
 and Buth. We had an ugly, pine-shingled Queen Anne 
 house upon a clay road back of the town. It was filled 
 with Grand Rapids stuff, chairs and tables and hideous 
 carved things, like hotel furniture, you know what 
 that is ? We knew the people of the place, all there 
 were, but that wasn't much. Mother knew more than 
 father about the other kind of life ; and she sent me 
 away to school to Pitthampton. That didn't do much 
 good : most of the girls were like me, only had more 
 money. Then papa made some money, and mother and 
 I went to Europe. Oh! I've seen a bit of the world. 
 I've been all around, living in hotels for months, years 
 almost; and I have learned to know my way among 
 people a little. Do you suppose I could afford to be 
 chummy with Sadie and Ruth and you, and the Mathers 
 standing around, and saying to themselves, ' That's her 
 kind'? Not yet!" 
 
 " So you like only rich people." 
 
 Miss Mason looked at Jack contemptuously; her 
 energetic exposition had been thrown away. Just then 
 the boat grated on the gravel shore of Seal Island, and 
 Jack helped his companion over the boulder-strewn 
 beach. They climbed the cliffs to the cool shade of the 
 big firs, and then crossed the island and gained the mas 
 sive, rocky fortress which breasted the open seas. The 
 swell boomed beneath them in the hollows of the granite, 
 flinging upward salty spume. The girl settled herself 
 in the sunny lee of a rock and resumed the topic where 
 they had broken off.
 
 THE REAL WORLD 97 
 
 "No! I don't like only rich people, or swell people. 
 I like you a lot, when you aren't silly ! " 
 
 She looked into his earnest face without a trace of 
 coquetry. 
 
 " And I am going to tell you some things which you 
 will have to learn, things you ought to know already. 
 There are somebodies and nobodies in this world, and if 
 you've got any spirit in you, you want to be a somebody." 
 
 " What's the use of being a somebody ? " Jack asked 
 rather meekly. 
 
 The girl looked at him impatiently. 
 
 " Do you have to ask that ? What's the use of living ? 
 do you have to be told that ? Why, we Americans have 
 the most glorious chance that ever was. Do you see, 
 people like you and me, just plain people from nowhere 
 with nothing behind them, with money or without if 
 necessary, we can do what we like. We can be what 
 we like. We can know the people we want to we can 
 conquer the world, if we are big enough." 
 
 She stopped breathlessly. 
 
 "Perhaps," Jack assented dubiously. The glowing 
 phrases hadn't much significance for him. "Do you mean 
 to conquer the world ? " he asked naively 
 
 " Yes, yes ; a thousand times ! " she laughed back. 
 "Watch me! There are a dozen worlds I can't know 
 now; but wait! I'm only twenty, and I have fifteen 
 years to go this way, that way. I shall marry. Of 
 course I shall marry. I shall try this and that, but I 
 shall come out ! " 
 
 She shook her head, half playfully.
 
 98 THE REAL WORLD 
 
 "And you?" she asked soberly. "A man has so 
 much more chance." 
 
 " I must learn something." 
 
 "College is only the beginning mere nothing. What 
 will you do after, that's it. Will you be content to sit 
 around here, lawyer, doctor, hotel-keeper ? Do you 
 feel strong enough to get down into the fight in the big 
 rings ? Can you make money, and make the little men 
 buckle under to you, and the women give you what you 
 want ? That's what it is to be a man ! " 
 
 The strong spirit of the girl's will fired the youth, 
 supple to impulse from woman as man has been from the 
 beginning. 
 
 " So that is the other world ! " he murmured, his eyes 
 staring into the fog-banks. 
 
 " This world, my friend, " the girl said excitedly. " Oh, 
 of course, there are other things : being good, excessively 
 good, and sacrifice, and religion, and all that. But I 
 don't believe a man who is a man ever feels the call that 
 way first hand. He wants to triumph, to fight with his 
 fellows. Don't you ? " 
 
 And in the glamour of the moment, Jack answered 
 literally : 
 
 " Yes ! And if I win " 
 
 "I shall be proud to know you, and I'll help you and 
 a woman can help an American woman " 
 
 "And if I fail?" he asked curiously. 
 
 The girl shrugged her shoulders dramatically. "I 
 never know failures ! " 
 
 There was a touch of hardness in her voice, but the
 
 THE REAL WORLD 99 
 
 fresh words that poured tumultuously forth destroyed the 
 impression. 
 
 "But there is no failure pluck, some brains, health 
 you've all those. And then a fair field, some money to 
 get, some stupid thousands of men and women to drive 
 your way. Oh! what a lovely country is ours! I could 
 wish to have been born a man, if I hadn't been a woman." 
 
 She laughed at her own wild mood. 
 
 " Come, we must be friends " she held out her hand. 
 " You'll get blue. You won't think it pays. You'll see 
 a nice little Ruth in the lane some day, and when she puts 
 her head on your shoulders, you'll think you want to 
 marry her and that would be the end of you. Remem 
 ber what I say : there's nothing like being a nouveau, if 
 you've got the wit and the grit to make the world accept 
 you. As I mean it shall ! " she ended more meditatively, 
 her gray eyes staring out at the empty horizon. Then 
 the humor of her words rushed over her, and she laughed 
 buoyantly. "My ! what a big talk I've been giving you ! 
 But you see, your situation interests me. You and I are 
 rather by the way of being in the same boat. My career 
 is as much to make as yours." 
 
 The young fellow listened abashed, unconscious of the 
 erratic frankness, the egotism, the maturity and imma 
 turity of the girl. When she paused, he said simply : 
 
 "I wish you would tell me more, what you mean by 
 ' career ' tell me all you've done. I want to know you." 
 
 The gray eyes rested on his eager face for a few con 
 templative moments. The mobile mouth smiled at his 
 simplicity and boyishness. Something in his direct,
 
 100 THE HEAL WORLD 
 
 ignorant manner, however, appealed to the woman ; some 
 thing in her own restless, self-absorbed so\il prompted 
 her to confidence. 
 
 Jack Pemberton never forgot those wonderful hours 
 on the sea-washed rocks, just above the insistent grum 
 ble of the ocean. The girl woman, rather told him 
 the story of her drifting life, from Zenobia, Ohio, and 
 New York to Pau and Trouville and Paris, Dresden, 
 Borne, and London. Such wonderful talk he had never 
 heard, such pictures of many new and strange people, as 
 he saw in the vivid, slangy phrases of this girl ! She 
 described the men of Zenobia where her father had his 
 silver-plate factory, the New York school where she 
 had first learned social distinctions, the New York 
 hotels that reeked with lavish expenditure, the Ameri 
 cans men and women who wander like a herd of 
 semi-domesticated cattle across the face of Europe! 
 Mr. Mason's fortunes had bobbed up and down. When 
 they were low, the wife and daughter had flitted to 
 Europe, and when they were high, they had come back 
 to New York hotels and restaurants, lavish temporary 
 quarters where they lived as they lived in Europe, ever 
 suspecting some new mandate of fortune. There were 
 many acquaintances of the table d'hote, or hotel ve 
 randa, and few friends. The brother had been sent to 
 St. Jacques, and was now in Harvard, a fact which 
 explained the appearance of the family in Pemberton 
 Neck. 
 
 The girl had relished this salad existence, welcoming
 
 THE REAL WORLD 101 
 
 change, content with the temporary aspect of things. 
 Hitherto she had lived on the outskirts of society, but 
 now, with irresistible charm and gallant will, she was 
 contemplating a new campaign, the significance of which 
 Jack could but partially realize. 
 
 "So," she concluded, "you can see that our friends, 
 the Mathers, are important to me. As I told you, they 
 are somebodies, and I am tired of nobodies." 
 
 There may have been a suspicion in the young fellow's 
 mind that her brilliant summary of the ends of living 
 was inadequate on some sides ; that it might be enough 
 to be strong and tender and fine without seeking the rich 
 foods of the world. But he would have put the idea from 
 his mind. What was good in her eyes would be his good. 
 
 While they had talked, the sun had dipped beyond the 
 purple crests of Green Hill, leaving a cold, black shadow 
 on the rocks. Miss Mason sprang up, exclaiming : 
 
 " You've made me miss my dinner, and Mr. Gushing 
 is there ! Come, take me home ! " she commanded with 
 a new intimacy in her tone. 
 
 "I should have been at the hotel hours ago," he re 
 joined, luxuriating in his freedom. 
 
 "What will they do to you ? " 
 
 " The clerk will row me," he admitted. " But I don't 
 care. I never was so happy in my life. Things mean so 
 much more now." 
 
 The girl laughed joyously. Her eyes danced with the 
 glory of this new conquest, this new possession, and with 
 a little mockery of herself and of him. 
 
 " Well, then," she said, " you will have to take dinner
 
 102 THE BEAL WOULD 
 
 with me, and give the clerk something more to row you 
 about." 
 
 They found the boat afloat, and the rocks on which 
 they had landed, under water. Jack turned to the girl 
 with more confidence than he had ever displayed. 
 
 " I shall have to carry you." 
 
 Lifting her in his arms, he strode out into the water 
 toward the boat, seeking carefully his footing ,on the 
 slippery rocks. She made no protests, expressed no self- 
 conscious pruderies, but held the young fellow's shoulders 
 firmly, studying his earnest face with her keen eyes. 
 The complete confidence and simplicity of the girl 
 touched a fresh chord of tenderness in him. He would 
 have borne her thus steadily for long miles, until his 
 strength gave out. As he placed her gently in the stern 
 of the boat she murmured appreciatively : 
 
 " What a strong man ! " 
 
 He wrapped her deftly in a rug, for the wind had 
 freshened, and tucked cushions here and there. It was 
 not love this exquisite pleasure of serving. He did 
 not know the first step of love, and if he had, such a con 
 sciousness toward this girl, who seemed to lean down to 
 him from some more brilliant star, would have made him 
 sneer at himself. It was not love ; but if she had needed 
 it, he would have taken out his strong heart and handed 
 it to her to play with. 
 
 As the little boat floated up to the landing stage in the 
 evening shadows, Miss Mason leaned forward impulsively. 
 
 " We're such good friends, aren't we ? " 
 
 Jack merely nodded, not knowing any fit words.
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 " ELSIE'S cub," Gushing called him, -with a laugh that 
 was full of sous-entendu for men. Mather, in response to 
 the phrase, smiled contemptuously. Secretly he thought 
 as poorly of Gushing as of the cub ; Elsie's crowd were 
 all rather common. Yet he had taken more vacation than 
 usual this summer, and had spent most of it at the Neck. 
 
 " Yes, my cub," the girl took up the phrase as a chal 
 lenge ; " and, see here, Bushy, you are a wise man : be 
 nice to the cub. That's all ! " 
 
 Gushing, who had just snubbed young Pemberton, 
 flicked his glasses, and Miss Mason, with rising color, 
 continued : 
 
 "Yes; he's only a country boy, he's nobody, you 
 won't tread on anybody's toes if you are small and mean 
 to him, except mine." 
 
 "Ami des femmesl" interpolated Mather, trying to 
 break what he would call the girl's rowdy mood. 
 
 This interruption won a bitter glance from the gray 
 eyes. 
 
 " I say, Bushy, you shall be nice to him. What are 
 we ? What am I ? What are you? His name is better 
 than mine, and maybe some day, Bushy, you and I 
 shall be glad we can say we knew him. Nonsense! 
 I don't mean that that's snobby and cheap, and he isn't 
 
 103
 
 104 THE KEAL WORLD 
 
 that. Do you know any one in our acquaintance who has 
 that head " 
 
 "And those clothes." 
 
 " And those shoulders." 
 
 " I hear he's going to Harvard," added Mather. " He'll 
 have rather a dull time." 
 
 "Why should he? He's got twice the stuff in him 
 Frank has, or " 
 
 "Ned?" Mather suggested. "Well, you see clever 
 ness hasn't much to do with having a good time in this 
 world." 
 
 "No!" the girl admitted bitterly. "Worse luck!" 
 And for that speech Roger Mather counselled his sister 
 not to be too intimate in her farewells. "They've come 
 here to get in. She's clever and clear sport but loud, 
 and the mother and father ! You don't want to shoulder 
 them in New York." 
 
 The women had arrived at this conclusion indepen 
 dently. Elsie Mason, her best friends admitted, was 
 "loud"; the older feminine critics said "vulgar." Miss 
 Chesney, who stood midway in liberality, held that her 
 honesty was always giving her needless reprobation. 
 " She is so loud that you can hear her a block off, but 
 she is amusing and she knows better. Some day when 
 it suits her fancy she will be the primest thing in life." 
 
 No one accused her of being sentimental or flirta 
 tious, although she was intimate with men rather than 
 with women. She treated all men with the brusque 
 honesty, the unsexual frankness, that she had shown to 
 the boy.
 
 THE REAL WORLD 105 
 
 " You're too ambitious to care for one man," Gushing 
 told her once, with the smart of having followed her in 
 vain since she was a child. 
 
 "Because you don't meet my ambition?" she had 
 retorted imperturbably. 
 
 And he wondered what her figure might be, as he 
 crassly phrased it. 
 
 If she had not conciliated the critical spirits of Pem- 
 berton Neck, her brother Frank had made ample amends. 
 He had attached himself to Ned Mather at St. Jacques, 
 and thanks to the Mather influence had "made the 
 Dickey" and was on the right road at Harvard. He had 
 selected Pemberton Neck for his family, because of the 
 Mathers, the Chesneys, the Sewalls, and other good peo 
 ple, who had had places there ever since the north shore 
 existed. To his disappointment, Elsie had succeeded 
 only indifferently in establishing the same cordial rela 
 tions that he enjoyed with these people. The men 
 flocked about her, but the women looked at her coldly 
 across tea-tables. Frank was popular all along the coast 
 from Nahant to Campobello. He was a pretty boy, with 
 regular features, a perpetual smile, and an apparently 
 frank manner. He could do passably well all outdoor 
 sports, sing a little, and write a little music. His sister's 
 freakish interest in the young clerk at the hotel was abso 
 lutely incomprehensible to him. Since he had turned 
 fifteen there had existed for him but one class of people, 
 those worth knowing. And with all the pertinacity 
 of the good parasite, he inserted his tendrils here and 
 there in the crannies of the strong social wall.
 
 106 THE KEAL WORLD 
 
 He was attentive to Isabelle Mather, and his sister 
 helped him with the girl where she could. Brother and 
 sister had a tacit agreement about their various purposes. 
 But hers were the larger views. 
 
 "You must have courage enough to know the un 
 known," she said to him these days, observing his 
 supercilious politeness to Jack. " Until you are strong 
 enough to be daring you won't arrive. Isabelle would be 
 the first to detect your little weakness, brother." 
 
 Likewise, when their genial father arrived to spend the 
 last days of the season with his family, she gloried in him 
 almost ostentatiously, while Frank was unpleasantly con 
 scious of Mr. Mason's evident inferiority to the distin 
 guished General, whose daughter he sought. There was 
 something in the gambling, roving nature of the Ohio 
 manufacturer that the daughter shared. He had won 
 and lost two small fortunes since he had sold the silver- 
 plate business and moved from Zenobia to New York. 
 Elsie remembered how, three years before, he had an 
 nounced his second reverse jovially at the dinner-table 
 over a glass of champagne. 
 
 "I'm cleaned out, old girl." 
 
 While Mrs. Mason was absorbing the horror of the 
 news, Elsie had kissed her father's fat cheeks, saying : 
 
 " You dear thing, stop your poker and don't make us 
 beggars. Mamma will go over to Aix this time." 
 
 And with many sighs Mrs. Mason had packed her eight 
 trunks and, leaving Frank at Harvard, had gone obedi 
 ently to Aix. There Elsie had had affairs with men, 
 and finally, in consternation, Mrs. Mason had packed
 
 THE REAL WORLD . 107 
 
 her trunks hastily, and they had sailed to New York, 
 Mr. Mason welcoming them on the dock as jovially as 
 he had sped them the year before. He was making 
 money once more, he said, and that summer they had 
 gone for the first time to Pemberton Neck. The follow 
 ing summer, as Mr. Mason continued to make money, 
 they had rented the Peters' cottage. Gushing was one 
 of the few people whom the family knew that Mr. Mason 
 also knew ; and if it had not been for Gushing, the fat, 
 white-haired little man would have been at a loss for 
 diversion in Pemberton Neck, so far from his two daily 
 games. He understood Gushing, who knew how to make 
 money, and whenever Mr. Mason visited his family, Gush 
 ing was more intimate than ever at the Peters' cottage. 
 
 All these people Jack watched and wondered about, 
 trying to relate them one to another, trying especially 
 to connect them with the girl, who seemed infinitely 
 better than them all. And in the hours he spent at 
 the Masons' cottage or out on the sea with this young 
 woman, who had seen her little world pretty thoroughly, 
 he learned more than the years at the university would 
 teach him. He read her half phrases and searched her 
 mobile face for the interpretation of what he saw but 
 could not understand in that little social pool of rich 
 Americans. After the Mathers left, he had her society 
 when he sought it. His absolute admiration and un 
 spoken devotion pleased the egotism of the girl. He 
 was but a boy, she may have said to herself. But a 
 stronger reason for her freedom with him was that they
 
 108 THE REAL WORLD 
 
 were Americans, equal before the social struggle, with a 
 similar homely past, with similar possibilities. 
 
 Those rare autumn days ! In some clear, sunlit Olym 
 pus like this the gods must sit to meditate the myste 
 rious joy of creation, the youth thought, and he was 
 conscious of treading in their footsteps. Pain and per 
 plexity later, labor and strife and sullen discontent, 
 they must return ; but three, five, six days of a free spirit 
 unleashed, with the dream of strange events to come, 
 who would not stand like a man and suffer later the 
 pangs of disillusion ? The boy in the youth was ignorant 
 of the woman's cleverness; the man in him cherished her 
 sweetest qualities. That she liked him, that he saw her 
 daily for long hours, was that not matter for lasting 
 gratitude ? 
 
 The black water of the north sea laps a cold, bleak 
 shore. The firs, rain-soaked, shrouded in mist, rise stiff 
 and dark above the black rocks. For days, sometimes 
 weeks, when the rest of the world basks in the languid 
 south wind, the North Shore is gloomy and fog-ridden. 
 But it has its own recompense when the fog-banks are 
 driven far out into the gray sea, when the tide murmurs 
 sweetly against the little islands, when the clear sun- 
 mellowed air throws an enchantment over the homely 
 coast. The human eye has the feeling that it can see 
 far into the distance. Remote trees and rocks stand out 
 with the sharp relief of marble. Then an intoxication 
 possesses the blood, not the carnal bedevilment of drink 
 or drug, but a quiet, happy conviction that the spirit 
 sees and feels. The incumbent heavy consciousness, the
 
 THE REAL WORLD 109 
 
 weary weight of flesh are lifted : one breathes, one knows 
 the power of life ! 
 
 The afternoon of the last day they were returning 
 from a long drive over the hills of Green Bay. They 
 had risen slowly at a walk out of a spacious inland 
 plateau of waving, many-colored trees and lingered on 
 the stony crest before turning down the steep road to 
 the shore. Behind them in the murmuring trees the 
 black shadows of the autumn night were playing, but a 
 few last golden streaks of sunlight illuminated the 
 dusky islands of the Bay. The still, searching beauty 
 of this piece of the world shone in the girl's face, 
 which was unwontedly passive. 
 
 "I never liked the neck so much as to-day!" she 
 exclaimed. 
 
 "You are always happy," Jack commented enviously. 
 
 "What's the use of sulking? I wouldn't give in, 
 not if we lost every cent. I know what it is to be poor 
 and to be snubbed. Let 'em all talk " 
 
 She restrained herself, but Jack knew what she meant. 
 He, too, was outside of this sleek little world below them. 
 
 " Shall you come back another summer ? Shall I see 
 you ? " he asked rather shamefacedly. 
 
 " Perhaps who knows ? Frank likes it " 
 
 " You're the first real person I ever knew." He spoke 
 to himself. She looked at him wonderingly, ignorant of 
 the bleak spiritual experience that the boy was trying to 
 express. 
 
 " The first person who is real and what you want her 
 to be," he stammered on.
 
 110 THE BEAL WORLD 
 
 She took it as a bizarre compliment, and her eyes 
 sparkled with pleasure. 
 
 " Wait think of all that's coming ! n 
 
 " Oh yes, crowds of people," he agreed, with the as 
 sumption of youth, " but not this." 
 
 She suspected sentiment and drew off bluffly. 
 
 " If you don't forget, come to see me in New York." 
 
 " No ! I'd rather do something first, make some sort of 
 a place, so those people every one won't think I am out 
 of it." 
 
 " Silly ! What do you care for them ? " 
 
 " Nothing here, but a lot when they're around." 
 
 " Why, if you run about a little and dress like them 
 and see what they're doing, you'll be just like them. 
 And then I shan't care a fig for you." 
 
 "You aren't that kind!" the young fellow replied 
 promptly. 
 
 " I don't know what kind I am I'm every kind." 
 
 " You don't seem happy now," he said gently. 
 
 " Look at that partridge ! You could have hit it with 
 a stick. There goes another, and another ! " 
 
 She dropped the reins in her excitement, but Jack 
 paid no attention to the covey of partridges that scuttled 
 over the road. 
 
 " I wish you'd tell me what's the matter," he persisted. 
 
 "You wouldn't understand," she answered peremp 
 torily. 
 
 Jack turned red slowly, painfully, and raised his deep 
 brown eyes resentfully to the girl's face. 
 
 "I shouldn't have said that," Elsie added, quickly
 
 THE REAL WORLD 111 
 
 laying her hand on his; "for you understand almost 
 everything, and are the greatest dear in the world." 
 
 The young fellow touched the horse impatiently with 
 the whip; the animal sprang forward down the rocky 
 road. The cart rocked and swayed, and the girl had all 
 she could do to guide it around the sharp turns of the 
 wooded road. 
 
 " Don't do that again," she said, when the horse settled 
 into a fast trot over a level piece of road. 
 
 " Don't say that again," Jack responded haughtily. 
 
 "No! , I won't ever again Jack," she whispered 
 teasingly, her head swaying close to his. " You goose ! " 
 
 And he raged, like the youth he was, at the feeling of 
 his real remoteness from this woman. When they came 
 to close quarters she withdrew into a cloudland of multi 
 form experience, where Bushy and Roger Mather and 
 Miss Chesney and many others were at home. He 
 merely looked over the fence. 
 
 "You must come to see me," she repeated soon, nes 
 tling unconsciously closer to him in the eagerness of her 
 sympathy. "You will? I'll take you to the theatre 
 and show you the great ones in evening undress. I'll 
 have you meet the tiniest buds in the world, and you'll 
 fall desperately in love, and it will be quite hopeless, you 
 know, for they won't look at you, no matter how clever 
 you are, not a bud of this generation, less than fifty 
 thousand a year. And it will take you years and years 
 to" 
 
 " Will fifty thousand satisfy you ? " Jack asked. 
 
 She paused in her breathless gabble to think.
 
 112 THE BEAL WORLD 
 
 " If he is the right sort, good style, good family, 
 correct in all points, why " 
 
 " Roger Mather, for instance ? " 
 
 " Don't be impertinent ! If he is all that, I might try 
 to get along on something less, but for the ordinary run 
 fifty is the very least." 
 
 Jack looked at her critically to see whether she was 
 serious. 
 
 "And I'm not worldly, not one little bit. But you 
 don't know how nasty it's been not having money, 
 being snubbed, and skipping about from hotel to hotel 
 not much ! " She ended with a grimace. 
 
 "But I thought you had money," Jack persisted 
 literally. 
 
 " Rather more than Miss Sadie, or Miss Ruth." 
 
 Jack nettled, and she added more seriously : 
 
 " Frank takes an awful lot, and " 
 
 " I didn't know people had to have so much money to 
 be happy." 
 
 " You don't understand." 
 
 "There seems to be a lot I don't understand," he 
 growled. 
 
 " There is, just dead loads. When you come to New 
 York, I'll try to make you understand a little." 
 
 " Isn't it possible this is better ? " he asked. 
 
 Her lip trembled. The boy had touched a remote 
 chord. The desire for peace that lies beneath the mis 
 cellaneous impulses of a healthy nature made itself felt 
 for one moment. 
 
 "Perhaps!" she admitted. "No! That's just plain
 
 THE REAL WORLD 113 
 
 rot. Good for failures and middle-aged people and inva 
 lids. Don't think poetry, Jack. Remember, to enjoy 
 poetry you must know the other kind of thing. Will 
 you write me, too?" She changed the theme briskly. 
 " I like you clear through, and I don't want to lose sight 
 of you. Maybe I can help you some day." 
 
 " And I you ? " he asked. 
 
 " You do ! You make me feel just right, just myself. 
 Now I'm going to call on your aunt, while you drive 
 over to the store for the mail." 
 
 Jack thanked the girl with a glance, and helped her 
 to dismount. When he returned with the mail he could 
 see her eager face through the little front window behind 
 the hollyhocks. She was talking in the same absorbed, 
 animated fashion that he loved. He waited five, ten, 
 fifteen minutes, watching her, until at last she appeared, 
 accompanied by the heavy form of his aunt. He could 
 see that Aunt Julia had been conquered by the irresisti 
 ble human charm of the girl, and was responding in her 
 lumbering way to the sympathetic touch. 
 
 " Hope we're agoin' to see you in Pemberton Neck next 
 season," Aunt Julia rolled out in her broad tones, as she 
 plucked a handful of flowers from the garden strip. " It's 
 been real nice to watch you drivin' past." 
 
 "I shan't drive past next year," the girl retorted 
 swiftly. 
 
 " That's right," Aunt Julia laughed. " Drive right up 
 and hitch here." 
 
 " Good-by, Jack," the girl said, as Jack carefully 
 covered her feet with the robe. She stretched out her
 
 114 THE HEAL WORLD 
 
 hand, and as her fingers closed warmly about his hand, 
 the young fellow answered : 
 
 " Good-by, Elsie." 
 
 " See you soon," she called back over her shoulder, as 
 the cart rolled into the road. 
 
 The girl swung her lash lightly above the mare and 
 called to her cheerily as if speaking to an old friend. 
 The mare responded with a long stride, and the last 
 word Jack caught was the cheerful, " Step lively, Molly," 
 almost drowned in the rattle of the wheels. He stood 
 watching until the erect figure disappeared into the dark 
 gulf of the arching trees. 
 
 He stood on, alone, to catch the last echoes of the trap. 
 The cold autumn night had shut in, hiding the islands 
 in the Bay, leaving the broad stretches of inner waters 
 black as bottomless pools. In the frosty stillness of the 
 evening the slap of the tidal swells resounded sharply 
 against the rocks. Color and warmth had faded from 
 the beautiful land, but his heart held a warm glow that 
 could never fade. The purest devotion a man ever gives 
 to woman, the devotion of youth, that asks nothing, 
 hopes for nothing, gives all and gets little, filled him 
 with happiness.
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 " HAD your supper, Jack ? " His uncle stepped quietly 
 out of the shadow of the shed. 
 
 " No ! " the boy answered. 
 
 "Been out with that girl up to the Neck ? " 
 
 " Yes," he said shortly, disliking the homely directness 
 of his uncle's reference to Miss Mason. 
 
 "Seen a good deal of her lately?" the little man 
 continued, running his finger under his suspenders and 
 stretching his slippered feet apart. As Jack said nothing, 
 he added: "And there's Euth, and Sade, and maybe 
 others just like your father ! " 
 
 " What do you mean ? " Jack demanded sternly. 
 
 The fisherman spat carefully beyond the well-brushed 
 gravel path, and said : 
 
 "Time you knew, Jack; time you knew, now you're 
 goin' off to college much like Arthur. 'Twas the gels 
 that ruined him! I ain't sayin' nothin' agin wimen. 
 When the time comes, you'll want to marry a good gel, 
 and maybe Ruth's good's the rest, maybe Sade. But 
 your father didn't wait till the right time ! He was a 
 great hand with the gels at the church parties. There 
 wan't no summer folks then, so's the wimen folk were 
 all of a kind, like us. And I kin remember," he con- 
 
 115
 
 116 THE REAL WORLD 
 
 tinned, spitting again, " when I was a little feller, seem* 
 Arthur goin' off drivin' with the gels, and berryin', and 
 choir practice, seems he was allus after 'em " 
 
 " Well, I haven't seen much of them, Sadie or Ruth 
 or the rest," Jack interrupted in cold disgust, "and I 
 don't see what you're telling me this for." 
 
 " So's to warn yer, Jack," the little man continued 
 stubbornly. " There was never a brother loved a brother 
 more'n I loved Arthur. I'd a put myself in that there 
 road, and let him drive over me, but I seed what ruined 
 him. It was gels wimen. And now you're doin' 
 much like he did. He went off up to Boston, and the 
 next thing we know'd he married one of 'em. She hooked 
 him 'fore he knew what he wanted, and she cotched him, 
 'cause why ? 'Cause she thought a lot of herself ; 'cause 
 she put on airs; 'cause her folks thought themselves fine 
 like this one." 
 
 Jack squirmed at the abrupt application of the moral. 
 
 " Now I don't want to say no more 'bout your mother. 
 But leave gels alone till you're a man ripe, and then don't 
 go hangin' bout folks that are too fine for yer. You're 
 goin' to college agin my advice, and you kin take this 
 advice or leave it, as you like." 
 
 He walked away to the barn, his natural waddling gait 
 emphasized by the passion of unusual speech. Jack 
 stood, stunned by the savagery of the words, inclined to 
 resent them. It seemed as if a dirty rag had been drawn 
 carelessly across a delicate picture in his mind. All the 
 exquisite outlines with which his imagination had painted 
 this one woman had been fouled. And his memory of
 
 THE BEAL WORLD 117 
 
 his father had been fouled, too, a definite cause for 
 that pitiful failure suggested, an idea that would lie and 
 fester in his mind. He could not cease to wonder how 
 literally the words should be taken, to what extremities 
 his father's weakness had led him. He had been inno 
 cent of wrong, except so far as he had taken joy from 
 this beautiful girl. With a scowl he started down the 
 path toward the shore ; his aunt put her head out of the 
 back door, and called, " Jock, Jock, don't you want no 
 supper ? " 
 
 He turned back and went to his supper in the little 
 kitchen. As he said nothing, his aunt suggested various 
 topics. 
 
 " I packed your trunk, Jock." 
 
 " Thank you." 
 
 " How much money have you ? " 
 
 " About two hundred and fifty dollars." 
 
 "Will that be enough ? " 
 
 "Guess it will have to be, if I can't get some more 
 down there." 
 
 " I've quite a bit saved up, one way and another " 
 
 " No, Aunt Julia," he interrupted quickly. " You and 
 Uncle John don't believe in this that I'm going to do, 
 and I shouldn't feel right in taking your money." 
 
 "Well," she drawled slowly, "you needn't look at it 
 that way. John is a bit uneasy 'count of your father, 
 but I guess " 
 
 " What was the matter with my father ? " Jack de 
 manded sharply. 
 
 " I doan't know as there was much," Aunt Julia replied
 
 118 THE BBAL WORLD 
 
 gently. "He was kind of sweet on the gurls, and I 
 guess, as you know, his marryin' " 
 
 " Did he ever do any girl any harm ? " Jack asked, 
 putting down his knife and fork. 
 
 " I doan't know. Your cousin Cyrus' folks talk about 
 some girl, a Maxwell, over at Brooksville, but 'tain't 
 nothin' but talk. I shouldn't let that fear you. Your 
 poor father, God rest him, had enough trouble 'fore he 
 died. He was kind of lively and gay and loved com 
 pany I guess that was just all. There was your great- 
 uncle Ferdinand he by all accounts was a hard one." 
 
 Jack made her tell the village stories about the ad 
 venturous Ferdinand, who had attempted to keep two 
 establishments, and had come to grief. That led to other 
 tales of Pembertons, a web of provincial intrigue that 
 connected the different generations of Puritan licentious 
 ness, repressed decently, but ever reappearing, aveng 
 ing the asceticism of one generation by the overstrung 
 nerves of the second. The young fellow sat before his 
 food, but did not eat. He leaned his elbows on the 
 kitchen table and loosened the coarse flannel shirt to 
 give his neck freedom, and stared out of the little win 
 dow into the dark fields. His black hair grew thickly 
 down the nape of his neck and around his neck to the 
 breast. His arms had thickened and toughened like 
 northern saplings, and bronzed under the sun. The 
 youth's form was swelling into the man's mould, and 
 the leaping red blood pushed and tingled over the body, 
 filling him with the vital consciousness of life. His face 
 burned red, as he listened, and of the broken threads
 
 THE HEAL WORLD 119 
 
 of old stories lie pieced out life-histories, tragedies of 
 family. . . 
 
 From out these stony, barren fields sprang this people 
 of his, hard and rough like the ledges of their coast, but 
 with this strange incentive to animal indulgence. In the 
 heat of his fancy he saw them all, all his people, 
 soft, sensual, yielding, some few repressing their sen 
 suality, only to have it descend a greater burden of 
 flesh to their children. 
 
 He knew now the thrill, the temptation that had come 
 unknown, the moonlight night when he had sat with his 
 arm half clasping the little waitress. And his aunt and 
 uncle put down his joy in Miss Mason to the same cor 
 rupt root. He drew himself up from the table with a 
 gesture of powerful, deep disdain, as if he would take 
 this vision of kindly beauty and bear it away to some 
 inner sanctuary where the ignorant could not blow 
 upon it. 
 
 " That Mis' Mason," his aunt observed at last, con 
 scious of his tense expression and anxious to get his 
 thoughts into pleasanter channels, "that Mis' Mason 
 is a most amusin' child, and as nice a one as I ever saw." 
 
 "Don't speak about her," Jack ordered harshly. "I 
 shall never see her again." 
 
 His aunt stared in amazement at the unaccustomed 
 anger in his tone, but like the wise woman of the people 
 that she was kept her peace in ignorance.
 
 BOOK II 
 YOUTH
 
 CHAPTEB I 
 
 "!T'S no kind of a mix-up. I've seen a dozen boys 
 just in from the plains that could run the whole push 
 into the lock-up. Now it's beginning to rain, they'll all 
 go home and change their neckties." 
 
 Jack laughed at the whimsical growling of the fellow. 
 He had strolled over to the "yard" from his room to 
 see the antics of " bloody Monday night," and had been 
 disgusted, as was this brawny stranger, by the half-hearted, 
 feeble endeavors of a few freshmen and sophomores to 
 observe an old tradition of the place. The big stranger, 
 who had spoken to him from the necessity to free his 
 mind frankly to some one, continued: 
 
 " Here, I've lost a new hat and had my collar-button 
 torn out, the worst I could do. I guess the old man's 
 drool this morning took the ginger out of 'em. But if 
 they're going to be good and not act like naughty boys, 
 why don't they keep out ; and if they're not going to be 
 grown-up and dignified as the Prex told 'em to, why don't 
 they pitch in and hustle ? " 
 
 " Are you new here ? " Jack asked. 
 
 " Yes. First time I ever smelled salt water. And it's 
 given me a cold in my head. There's no use slopping 
 'round here in the wet. Let's move on." 
 
 The feeble mob of undergraduates that had been 
 pushing aimlessly here and there was breaking up dis- 
 
 123
 
 124 THE REAL WOBLD 
 
 heartened. Jack sauntered off with, his new acquaint 
 ance, immensely pleased to hear the sound of a human 
 voice addressed to him after five days of complete lone 
 liness. 
 
 " Come up to my room, won't you ? n he suggested 
 timidly, as the rain pattered insistently among the 
 autumn leaves of the old elms. 
 
 " Whereabouts ? " the stranger demanded. 
 
 "College House, top floor," Jack responded, as yet 
 unconscious of the social inadequacy of his quarters. 
 
 The two scrambled up the dingy stairs of the old 
 brick hall; Jack opened the door of his tiny room, 
 turned up the gas, and wheeled eagerly to look at his 
 companion. 
 
 " Stevenson, Jeff Stevenson," the big fellow ex 
 plained, falling into a chair and stretching out his hands 
 to the little grate fire. " And you're Pemberton, 18 , 
 saw it on the door while you were hunting for a match. 
 I'm from Mound City, Iowa. Where are you from ? " 
 
 " Pemberton Neck, Maine," Jack responded. 
 
 " So ? Got a place named for you? Well, they named 
 a little two-story shanty, saloon, and stock-house up in 
 the woods, Stevenson, after the old man ; but it hasn't 
 grown much, guess it never will." 
 
 Stevenson had a pleasant, big voice, all in the lower 
 register. It reminded Jack of the bellow of the waves 
 on the rocks of Seal Island as it came to land softened 
 by the fog bank. His large, bony frame fitted the voice 
 and also his huge feet, two of which, side by side, occu 
 pied the hearth, and his long, broad, hairy hands. A
 
 THE REAL WORLD 125 
 
 thick growth of hair came far down on his forehead, 
 and was met over the cheek bones by two wide, black 
 streaks where the beard was shaved. A mustache curved 
 above the large mouth. The chief thing about the man 
 he was obviously older than the average freshman 
 was the liberal scale of his physique. It was not until 
 Jack stood off from him that he realized how handsome 
 he was in spite of the heavy lines. His big, brown eyes 
 peering out under the thatch of hair burned with kindly 
 warmth. 
 
 " What are you doing for yourself ? " Stevenson asked 
 slowly. " I've been running 'round to see the profs, but 
 they seem too busy to pass the time of day. Every 
 one hereabouts is just wiggling for all he's worth; so I 
 gave it up, and just trot here and there and look at 
 things. Been to Concord and Bunker Hill. It's mighty 
 different around here." 
 
 " What's Mound City ? ""Jack asked, immensely inter 
 ested in this careless, casual person. 
 
 "Oh! just a crossroads where the road headquarters 
 are, and the shops, and all that. It's goin' to be the 
 prettiest town of its size in the state. Ever been 
 West?" 
 
 Jack shook his head. 
 
 " You should see a Ked Eiver Valley farm my old 
 man owns two or three big ones, and I've been up there 
 harvestin' times. Why, on one of them we keep five 
 experts just riding about fixing the machines." 
 
 The big fellow lounged back in the chair and closed 
 his eyes, as if he were dreaming of the level golden
 
 126 THE BBAL WORLD 
 
 plains with the music of the reapers in his ears. He 
 talked on ; from anybody else Jack would have called it 
 brag, but from Stevenson it was only the egotistic over 
 flow of a powerful, zestful nature. 
 
 " When the boys went to school, Michigan, Cornell, 
 Kansas, and so on, I went into railroadin'," he ended. 
 " Only last year the old man fixed his business up so as 
 I could be free. And I thought I'd see what it was like 
 here. I read a good deal in the papers about Harvard, 
 and when I had a chance to choose I took Harvard." 
 
 Jack's own tale seemed tame to him in comparison 
 with the hard-working years that Stevenson had spent 
 on the wheat farm and in the railroad offices of Mound 
 City. The black-browed Westerner with his massive, 
 gentle face had already tasted many of the joys of a 
 man's life. 
 
 "What are you going to do?" Stevenson asked 
 abruptly. 
 
 "I don't know. There are so many things in this 
 place to study, I don't even know where to begin." 
 
 " I went through their prospectus with the old man, 
 and we picked out about a couple of dozen courses. I'm 
 down for six this year. What's your line ? " 
 
 " Nothing particular," Jack replied evasively. " Lan 
 guages, I guess, at first. I expect to waste a year 
 rinding out what I want. I didn't come just for the 
 courses." 
 
 The big fellow looked puzzled, and Jack was too 
 timid to explain what he meant. They talked on into 
 the quiet hours of the rainy night, like two imaginative
 
 THE REAL WORLD 127 
 
 boys, sounding each other, discovering the capes of dis 
 similar experience, laying the broad foundations of 
 friendship. Stevenson took off his coat and collar and 
 rolled up his shirt sleeves to cool his big body. He 
 talked like a massive engine that had its business in the 
 world to do, and played in the joyous heat of its per 
 formance. 
 
 " Well," he said at last, " I'd bunk in with you right 
 here, but your quarters are kind of small." It was not 
 said in criticism, and Jack offered no apology. In truth, 
 there was only a narrow iron bed sht off in a corner by 
 a calico curtain, a table, two chairs, and a strip of carpet. 
 " I live over the other end of the town. Where do you 
 feed ? At the great trough in the Hall ? Well, I'll see 
 you there to-morrow, and we'll try to fix it so's to get 
 together at table, if agreeable to you." 
 
 When he had gone, and his heavy tread sounded loudly 
 from the old staircase, which he covered three steps at a 
 time, Jack Pemberton walked back and forth as if to 
 shake himself awake. The vital, physical presence of 
 the young man still remained in the room, and stirred 
 him like a hearty clap on the shoulder. He opened the 
 window and looked out. Stevenson was pulling up his 
 coat collar and ramming the felt hat Jack had lent 
 him firmly on his head. Then he started up the avenue 
 out of the square, walking leisurely as if a Cambridge 
 drizzle had no terrors. Jack watched him until his 
 broad shoulders faded into the damp night. 
 
 He stood there by the window, gazing into the deserted 
 square, where the big electric light cast a blue blur over
 
 128 THE BBAL WORLD 
 
 the wet roadway. The streets were muddy, and the col 
 lege buildings across the way were shrouded in the cold 
 mist, yet for the first day since his arrival in Cambridge 
 the place painted itself large in his imagination. It was 
 like coming across the form of a young god in a new 
 country this finding of Stevenson. 
 
 The next morning the sky was washed cold and blue ; 
 there was a feeling of distant, frosty hills in the air. The 
 beautiful New England autumn had set in. Jack hurried 
 over to the dining hall, the first love for the old place 
 stirring in his heart. He had been assigned a seat in 
 that vast establishment with a number of other nonde 
 script youths that had as yet no companions. In the 
 bustle of the great hall, with the steam of the food cloud 
 ing the big stained-glass windows, the perpetual stream 
 of students in and out, the tables loaded with used dishes, 
 Jack sat and watched the scene. The youth next him, a 
 pale, near-sighted chap, who ate as if all food were the 
 same thing, had propped his morning paper on the water- 
 pitcher and buried himself unsociably in its folds. Jack 
 looked him over, trying to place him. He was more of 
 the student than any man he had yet seen; he was 
 dressed with the greatest economy, evidently, his black, 
 ready-made clothes having been brushed until they 
 shone. 
 
 As the stranger turned the newspaper, Jack noticed 
 that he stopped the mechanical process of shovelling in 
 his breakfast and stared at the lines of print in front of 
 him. He did not seem to read; he did not turn the 
 newspaper, to the discomfort of Jack, who was furtively
 
 THE REAL WORLD 129 
 
 gathering the news of a great yacht race. Finally, Jack 
 rose and left his neighbor staring with unseeing eyes at 
 the heavy black lines of the Herald. As he sauntered 
 out of the smelly hall into the marble-paved transept, the 
 October sunlight shot through the open doors, lighting 
 the memorial tablets. Jack stopped and read the names, 
 passing on from tablet to tablet with its simple record 
 of forgotten heroes. This contribution of the university 
 to the national life suddenly meant something to him : 
 Antietam, Chancellorsville, the Wilderness, odd names, 
 crude names, beautiful names, more penetrating than 
 Marathon, or Philippi, or Agincourt! The names of 
 the men were recorded in little black letters that sank 
 coldly into the angular marble tablets: 
 
 John Errant. 
 Andrew Nixon. 
 Benjamin F. Pauling. 
 
 Another tablet : 
 
 Amos DuranL 
 
 Edward Sewall Mather, Captain. 
 
 That must be a relative of his classmate, young Mather ! 
 The last time he had seen Ned Mather he was superin 
 tending the loading of his polo ponies on the Northern 
 Star at the Neck. Jack wondered if Mather had ever 
 stood beneath this record of honor. Thirty years before 
 almost to the day of the month, Captain Edward Sewall 
 Mather, who was then barely twenty, had left Harvard 
 with his regiment, and two years later was shot at Gettys-
 
 130 THE KBAL WOBLD 
 
 burg. Jack passed on, reading the names, many of which 
 were familiar and honored throughout New England. 
 
 A broad streak of violet light waved across the marble 
 floor. The students came thickly now, hurrying to their 
 morning classes or sauntering to a belated breakfast. 
 These men, he supposed, were much the same as those of 
 the preceding generation, whose names alone were left 
 in this unlovely hall of fame. The freshman stand 
 ing there in his loneliness and bewilderment and igno 
 rance of what to do with his life, reproached his age 
 for denying him the opportunities it had given to 
 these. The crude impatience of youth saw only their 
 heroism ! 
 
 One of the figures that came through the swinging 
 doors of the dining hall moved over the flags with the 
 dragging step of a somnambulist. It was the fellow who 
 had sat next Jack at breakfast. He carried the Herald 
 open in his hand, but his eyes stared above the page into 
 an empty distance. Jack followed him, fascinated by the 
 man's preoccupation. The young student with the paper 
 turned mechanically up the street in the direction of the 
 square. As he crossed the path that led to the big reci 
 tation hall, he paused for a moment, and his eyes sought 
 the paper once more. Then he crawled on. 
 
 The bell had ceased ringing. Jack had a nine o'clock 
 lecture at Sever Hall, but he followed the fellow with 
 the paper. Some impulse overbore the careful restraint, 
 the habit of not speaking, which Cambridge so quickly 
 teaches; perhaps it was Stevenson's burly example. 
 He touched the quiet little man on his shoulder.
 
 THE REAL WORLD 131 
 
 "The bell has just stopped," he said foolishly. "Are 
 you going to English A ? " 
 
 The man shrank away from the touch suspiciously, 
 and then gave a little wizened laugh. 
 
 "I was going somewhere, but I guess I'm not, ever 
 going anywhere again." 
 
 " What's up ? " Jack asked, with more assurance. 
 
 The little man looked away. 
 
 "Oh, nothing!" But his hand trembled until the 
 newspaper fluttered. 
 
 " Something in the paper ? " Jack asked persistently. 
 
 The stranger shoved the paper under his nose. There 
 were the headlines about the yacht race, and side by side 
 a little six-line item about an embezzlement from a coun 
 try bank. Jack wondered if the fellow had put all his 
 money on the wrong boat, but he rejected the idea; the 
 pale, near-sighted fellow was not that kind. 
 
 "The Chicopee Bank," the stranger laughed. "Said 
 to be as strong as a safe. Had all my money, and 
 now that fellow's got it all." 
 
 " That's tough," Jack said sympathetically. 
 
 "I guess you'd say so," the little man retorted irritably. 
 " If you'd saved it for five years, working by the hour." 
 
 Jack said nothing, but walked along, forgetful of his 
 English recitation. 
 
 "For two years I've been proof-reading over in the 
 big printing house by the river, and from the window 
 by my desk I have seen nothing but that tower." 
 
 He turned and pointed to the massive, ugly, slate- 
 covered tower of Memorial Hall.
 
 132 THE REAL WORLD 
 
 " Is it all gone ? " Jack ventured to ask. 
 
 " I've ten dollars," the fellow answered, " somewhere, 
 if that hasn't been stolen, too." 
 
 They were in the Yard, now, and the stranger looked 
 about at the homely old brick buildings with a wistful 
 air. 
 
 " I'm glad to have seen it near to, and been a student, 
 if only for two days. I said I wouldn't come over until 
 I had the money in the bank and could be a member. 
 Well, I must go back to Boston." 
 
 But he lingered, evidently loath to shut himself up 
 with his stunning disappointment. 
 
 "You aren't going to give in?" Jack exclaimed. 
 
 The little man laughed drearily ; words were cheap. 
 
 " Come over with me, I've got a room ; it isn't much, 
 but it's paid for. And they say a fellow who is smart 
 can always get on. Perhaps the bank will pay up 
 sometime." 
 
 The little man shook his head incredulously. But 
 Jack persisted. 'Here was a fellow who wanted the 
 courses, who knew what he wanted 'far more than he 
 did, who had struggled for it, fought for five years ! It 
 was preposterous that he should be cheated out of it. 
 So he persuaded Black Eaymond Black was the 
 stranger's name to come up to his room to talk it 
 over, and to canvass the question of ways and means. 
 He succeeded in having Black put off his flight for that 
 day, and then he went to his eleven o'clock recitation, 
 hoping to run across Stevenson. The big Westerner, he 
 thought, might be helpful.
 
 THE REAL WORLD 133 
 
 His mind was busy with this idea, and he paid little 
 attention to the lecture, a talk on methods of study 
 ing history, delivered to a class of four hundred boys, 
 a third of whom could catch the words of the lecturer 
 only occasionally. At the sound of the bell the pent-up 
 youth tumbled gayly out of the stuffy hall. Some hurried 
 over to the library to secure the books mentioned by the 
 lecturer; others straggled to other lectures; but the 
 larger part drifted through the Square into the little cross 
 streets where are the private clubs and the luxurious 
 private dormitories. Jack noticed that these students 
 were the better dressed, more distinctively "college boys," 
 such as he had seen in the hotel, and he strolled along 
 with them, observing their ease of manner with one 
 another and their dress. They clustered like flies about 
 the billiard rooms and cigar shops on Massachusetts 
 Avenue. He met Mason, and stopped to greet him. 
 Frank Mason called out with a show of cordiality, 
 "Hello, Pemberton," and asked him how he was "get 
 ting on." As the two talked, Mason's eyes wandered 
 up and down the street. And from moment to moment 
 he nodded to passing fellows, with the same genial smile, 
 "Hello, Ned; Hello, Prentiss; Hello, Tom." He 
 seemed to know the world by the first name. 
 
 Jack lingered, without anything to say, merely from 
 the pleasure of seeing Elsie's brother. In a few moments 
 Mason smiled again and moved on, saying, "Come in 
 some time when you are going by; Claverly is my 
 building." He evidently meant to be nice to Pemberton. 
 But a man's acquaintance was like a well-packed bag ; it
 
 134 THE EEAL WORLD 
 
 was boring to be asked to add a superfluous article. 
 Jack thought it would be a long time before he should 
 be passing Claverly way. 
 
 As he turned back to the less fashionable quarter of 
 the Square, he caught sight of Stevenson's big form in 
 front of a popular cigar shop. He was looking at some 
 prize cups exhibited in the window, and as Jack hailed 
 him he exclaimed, carrying on the thought that was in 
 his mind : 
 
 " Athletics's the thing here you want to get out and 
 hustle. I'm going over to the big ranch beyond the 
 creek, and try my luck with the padded breeches. Come 
 on, young feller." 
 
 "You'll never make the team," Jack replied pessi 
 mistically. " It's always made up beforehand from the 
 men who have been on school teams. You aren't in 
 the set." 
 
 Mason had given him a sour feeling that extended 
 to every suggestion. He even doubted whether Black 
 could be helped. 
 
 " That's all right," Stevenson answered good-naturedly. 
 " They haven't seen me yet. I could push a flat-car up 
 grade this morning." 
 
 " Well, I want your advice," Jack said more hopefully. 
 He told Stevenson about the man he had met at Memo 
 rial. Stevenson took the little tragedy as a good joke, 
 remarking : " So the cashier skipped with every cent, and 
 the little fellow is landed here strapped ? Why don't he 
 get a gun and start for his man ? " 
 
 "If you saw Black, you'd know why. Besides, we
 
 THE REAL WORLD 135 
 
 don't settle those matters so simply here," Jack 
 observed. 
 
 When the big man had time to let all sides of the 
 affair penetrate his mind, he sobered enough. 
 
 "He mustn't get out give up like that when the 
 game is going the wrong way. Just let him show his 
 nerve and stay in. The bank will pay up some day, or 
 something'll happen. Let's have a look at him ! " 
 
 In the end Stevenson put heart into the little man, and 
 Jack got Mather's tutor to promise to send him a job. 
 Meantime Stevenson lent him some money to go on 
 with. 
 
 "He wants college more than I do," Stevenson re 
 marked " more'n most, and we'll see he gets it, won't 
 we?" 
 
 Jack assented, with a grim sense of humor. His own 
 affairs, he began to realize, were not in the brightest 
 case, but he assimilated something of the big man's 
 broad trust in the future, and looked ahead with 
 a steady glance. About the first thing he did was to 
 order a suit of clothes from one of the Boston tailors 
 that advertised in the college papers. The price of his 
 suit cut deeply into his small hoard, but he said imper- 
 turbably to little Black, who gasped at his recklessness : 
 
 " I hate slops, and I've always had slops to wear. I'm 
 going to run on a different gauge here, as Stevenson 
 would call it." 
 
 It would be hard to say what is so deeply symbolical 
 to the ambitious American in a new suit of clothes.
 
 CHAPTER H 
 
 THE memory of the tablets in Memorial Hall recurred 
 from time to time that first year. He wondered what 
 Ned Mather was doing with himself at Harvard. He 
 had seen him occasionally driving up Massachusetts 
 Avenue, but he had not met him. In the intolerable 
 loneliness of the first months he had thought of calling 
 on him, but his pride, which had grown vastly in the 
 college atmosphere, prevented him. He made few ac 
 quaintances ; sometimes he envied little Black, who had 
 unerringly formed relations with a few "grinds," ac 
 quaintances made in the class room, at the library, or 
 over borrowed note-books. For Black there seemed to be 
 but one road in life, while he stood confused in the 
 market-place. Stevenson, also, pushed his burly form 
 here and there, attracting acquaintances easily, with a 
 large trust in the future. As for Mason and Mather and 
 the idle men of their set, he supposed they were confi 
 dent that the future would settle itself, as it had for 
 their fathers and their older brothers, advantageously. 
 
 Meantime, as the year wore on, a more pressing anxiety 
 occupied his thoughts: his little hoard was giving out 
 very fast. The day came when he was ready to acknowl 
 edge his defeat and to return to Pemberton Neck quite 
 penniless, but accidentally that evening he found a way to 
 
 136
 
 THE KEAL WORLD 137 
 
 earn some money. By the close of the year he could 
 make nearly fifteen dollars a week by writing for a 
 Boston newspaper. The chance had come to him 
 through Zimmerman, a young instructor in English, who 
 had read something of the boy's story between the lines 
 of his theme-work. That cape of distress rounded, Jack 
 gained a certain confidence. It was a good thing early 
 in life to walk up close to failure and look it in the face. 
 
 Harvard was a silent world for him. Beyond Stevenson, 
 Black, and a rare word with Zimmerman or some other 
 busy instructor, Jack had no occasion to use his tongue. 
 The place began to have the aspect of a city of animated 
 shades, who hourly walked up and down on the brick 
 pavements, and talked and whistled and sang and then 
 reentered their respective abodes until the old bell rang 
 again. He did not dislike this isolation, for all his 
 conscious life he had lived so largely with shades that 
 he had grown accustomed to silence. Now and then he 
 went to the theatre with Stevenson, who had a passion 
 for the play. After the heat and bad air of the upper 
 gallery they were glad to walk out over the long bridge 
 to Cambridge, discussing, venting the keen impressions 
 of the evening. Jack had the shy desire to write a 
 play, about wraiths, and Stevenson's ambition was to 
 know the author of the Private Detective, or the actress 
 of the hour. 
 
 On one of these occasions they had run across Ned 
 Mather rather drunk and in dispute with some men who 
 were trying to get his money. Stevenson had put the 
 men to flight, and then they had got Mather to Cambridge
 
 138 THE BEAL WORLD 
 
 in a cab. As they were leaving him at his rooms, he 
 urged them to come in and spend the night with him. 
 
 " I can't sleep," he explained, with polite coherence, 
 " and if you wouldn't mind I hate to be alone. We'll 
 have something cool upstairs, and just talk, until that 
 fool Mason turns up." 
 
 Stevenson declined and went away. While Jack hesi 
 tated, disliking a drunken cordiality, the young fellow 
 pulled his arm. 
 
 " For God's sake, Pemberton, don't leave me ! These 
 times I can't stand being alone. I'd, I'd go back to town." 
 
 There was something appealing in the gentle, regular 
 features of the boy, a wistf ulness that attracted Jack even 
 more than the fine courtesy and amusing irony he had 
 displayed on the drive from town. So Jack steadied 
 Mather's footsteps in the dark hall, and got him into a 
 chair near the window, where the soft April breeze puffed 
 out the heavy curtains. Mather leaned his head wearily 
 on the cushions and closed his eyes. It was a singularly 
 handsome and impassive face, with the sad, youthful 
 expression of a renaissance portrait. Lean and long in 
 feature, heavy-lidded, with luxuriant hair, the head gave 
 a sense of repose, of a wistful inner life that rarely 
 expressed itself in action. 
 
 " Nice and calm out there. Nice place here if you 
 hadn't to bother with things," Mather murmured, his 
 eyes still closed. 
 
 " You don't very much," Jack suggested, with growing 
 curiosity. 
 
 For reply Mather pointed to the door, which was care-
 
 THE HEAL WOULD 139 
 
 fully decorated with little oblong cards, "invitations 
 from the Dean." 
 
 " Another one, and I shall take a vacation," he com 
 mented, with a sigh. 
 
 "But it's easy enough to keep along and not worry 
 one's self," Jack remonstrated. 
 
 " I suppose so at least Roger thinks so, and the gov 
 ernor. The tutor put Roger through, but he hasn't suc 
 ceeded with me. If one could only care a little " 
 
 He hesitated with the awkwardness of youth in con 
 fession. But he had the desire to talk. The fumes of the 
 evening, as they scattered, left his mind singularly clear. 
 
 " My people have always been here ; never done much, 
 you know. But the governor can't imagine our not get 
 ting the degree. I shall be an awful shock to him. / 
 don't want the degree. As soon as I can get out of this, 
 I'm going to Carolina or Mexico or some place, and start 
 a ranch. The only thing I care about is horses. Then 
 I'll come back north at times for polo and a little run in 
 the cities." 
 
 " You'd get sick of that soon," Jack observed wisely. 
 
 " Do you think so ? Not much ! What's the use of liv 
 ing up to the other fellow's ideal, or what you call it ? 
 There's my uncle " 
 
 The simple tablet in Memorial rose before Jack's eyes, 
 and he listened eagerly. 
 
 " He was a sport ; only instead of playing polo and go 
 ing in town, he went to the war and got shot. Suppose 
 I'd do the same thing if I had his chance. They call him 
 a hero, and I'm a plain bum. What's the difference ? " 

 
 140 THE REAL WOULD 
 
 The idea in the boy's mind was more or less logical, and 
 Jack refrained from protesting. 
 
 " They keep me out here, and I make the best of it, kill 
 time when I can." 
 
 He fetched some apollinaris from a sideboard, and con 
 tinued to talk desultorily, revealing his methods of kill 
 ing time with literalness and humor. He did not care for 
 fame : he had no desire to distinguish himself in athlet 
 ics, in society, in the larger world beyond the A. B. It 
 was all a matter of ennui. But the fresh air of the moun 
 tains, the rough zest of the great plains, the simple joys 
 of the body, with these he could be content. And he 
 was " not a bad lot," as he himself said. Frank Mason 
 and Roger ran about with the women in their social set, 
 the good society of New York and Boston, and a naughty 
 lot of girls and women they were, according to this youth. 
 Their weaknesses and follies had no charms for him ; he 
 had seen them grow up. " If I want that kind of thing," 
 he observed, "you know I had rather take it straight. 
 It's no good making the world all nasty." 
 
 The narrowness and emptiness of life ! The boy un 
 consciously painted the futility of living. That was the 
 story of the impassive, sad renaissance face, a mask 
 for ennui. He had inherited what Elsie Mason had set 
 forth in her incisive philosophy of life as the desirable 
 things to strive for, and they had no zest. Yet, as he 
 talked, Jack saw that after all the young generation was 
 close to the one that had tablets raised in its honor in 
 Memorial Hall. Let there come to-night a call, a chance 
 for some definite excitement, be the cause good or bad.
 
 THE REAL WORLD 141 
 
 and Ned Mather and his kind would be the first to grasp 
 the sword. The run of men are simple children, and 
 they cannot respond to the abstract needs of life : they 
 need the battle-cry and the flag ! 
 
 When the morning light came, Mather prepared coffee, 
 and suggested turning in. " Another warning in History 
 12," he yawned. " I suppose you never get them ? " he 
 inquired of Jack with some curiosity. 
 
 " I've got to get on," Jack answered bluntly. " It's no 
 virtue in me ! " 
 
 " Ah ! " Mather commented politely. " Didn't you use 
 to live near us at Riverside ? My sister said something 
 about it." 
 
 "Yes. I lived back of your place, Pancoast Lane." 
 
 " Ah ! " Mather repeated with an air of polite specula 
 tion, as if their respective position was one of the ironies 
 of life. " And you like it here ? " 
 
 "Not especially," Jack replied. "I, too, don't know 
 just what to do." 
 
 "That wouldn't bother me much," Mather responded 
 ironically, " if the good people here would only let me 
 alone." 
 
 After that night the two saw each other occasionally. 
 Jack induced Mather to engage the services of Raymond 
 Black as his tutor, with the result that for a time the 
 Dean's invitations became less pressing. Sometimes 
 they went to the theatre, or played tennis together; but 
 as Jack frequented the upper gallery and Mather the 
 floor of the theatre, and as Jack had little time for ten 
 nis, these engagements were more or less artificial.
 
 142 THE REAL WORLD 
 
 Mather lived half of his time in the city, or at a country 
 club where he kept his horses. He never walked; he 
 dined in a small private club; he rarely followed the 
 college sports. So Jack observed that two citizens of a 
 democracy may cherish the most kindly feelings toward 
 one another, and yet never meet on an equality. 
 
 Thus the first year wore away the year of his great 
 venture, towards which he had looked with so many 
 boyish imaginings. College was not all that he had sup 
 posed it to be. It was neither quite all cakes and ale, or 
 beautiful, enticing work which held one in spell. Indeed, 
 thus far, he attended his lectures, and did the required 
 reading in his courses conscientiously, but with little real 
 appetite. He was one of two hundred or more boys in 
 most of his courses, and he was at sea. The only thing 
 to do was to swim on stoutly in the hope some day of 
 feeling ground under his feet. But this indifferent, un- 
 emphatic attitude toward his courses was really one of 
 the best things Harvard had to offer. It threw Jack Pem- 
 berton and many another young fellow back upon the 
 place itself, upon the subjects themselves ; and already 
 before his freshman year was spent he had begun to 
 realize that the intangible spirit of the college was more 
 than lectures or courses, more than information or schol 
 arship. And that spirit was a sense of catholic, high- 
 minded living, a feeling that the world was a fine and 
 noble place to live in, if you lived in it like a gentleman. 
 And this corner of the new world, from which the pas 
 sion and glory of worldly success had shifted forever to
 
 THE REAL WORLD 143 
 
 broader, fresher regions, had this to offer from its store 
 of tradition in culture and learning, that to live finely was 
 the best thing in life, better than honor and fame and 
 success. Not in a day, nor in a year, but slowly, like all 
 truths of the spirit, this immutable conviction was born 
 in Jack Pemberton. Later he knew that that was pretty 
 nearly all Harvard had given him from her treasury. 
 
 Meantime, it was a lonely place, God knows! The 
 little world went its busy little way and left one alone, 
 especially if one were a freshman not from a large 
 school, without previously formed relations, with the 
 puritan shame of knocking at the doors of strangers. 
 Many a day Jack Pemberton strode up quiet Brattle 
 Street, out into the fields that were turning green, with 
 a thirst for a human word, nay, the mere presence of 
 another silent person. And he knew there were count 
 less others among the hard-working students, or the 
 great mass of middle youth, who knew their neighbors 
 well enough to borrow oil or matches, who went to two 
 or three rooms at rare intervals, but at the end of four 
 years passed out of Cambridge, as much alone as they 
 had entered it. If it had not been for Stevenson and 
 little Black, it would have been far worse, but Stevenson 
 "Big Steve," as he was usually called was roam 
 ing ceaselessly to this man or that; and little Black, 
 who had won a scholarship at Christmas, was working 
 furiously day and night. 
 
 Jack Pemberton was finding his place, slowly but 
 inevitably, in the Harvard world. He was a " B " stu 
 dent, who wrote a boyish hand, and whose labored exam-
 
 144 THE BBAL WOULD 
 
 ination books lay undistinguished in the blue mass submit 
 ted to the overworked instructor. He was trying to get 
 on the Daily Crimson, in emulation of Stevenson, and 
 correcting manuscripts for the indiscriminate Boston 
 Scavenger, with the tactful earnestness of one whose daily 
 bread depends upon the adequate accomplishment of the 
 daily task. He had not entered a private dwelling since 
 he had left his uncle's little cottage, and had not spoken 
 to a woman. Elsie had written to him as she had prom 
 ised. She had not forgotten her " cub." But Jack, stung 
 by the crude criticism that his uncle and aunt had made 
 of his liking for this woman, had never replied. 
 
 Days came, the warm days in early June, in which the 
 bluff New England country puts forth its most winsome 
 aspect, when Jack heard the thrushes calling from island 
 to island over Green Hill Bay, when he smelled the 
 resinous wine of the far North Shore, and saw the color 
 come and go on a mobile face that seemed the most 
 responsive, most human thing in the round world. And 
 the face of the ambitious girl confused itself with the 
 face of the vision he had seen on Green Hill. Together 
 they called him, and his heart responded with a rush of 
 tenderness, of service, and then he put them both from 
 his mind as Woman, the thing that disturbs and mad 
 dens ; the thing that was not for him. But they came 
 again and entered his heart. Such days the old brick 
 buildings, the busy Square, the multitudinous youth, took 
 themselves into the dim, phantasmagoric region that ever 
 beset him. This college world was no more real than 
 the other worlds, only more gentle, more decorous. He
 
 THE REAL WORLD 145 
 
 was still sitting before the players' few yards of stage, 
 and hearkening to the strange sounds of mock voices, 
 watching the antic motions of nervous puppets. Ah! 
 for the grip of those warm fingers, the ripple of that 
 laugh . . . 
 
 There sounded the incessant clap, clap, tap, rap of the 
 footsteps of the youth on the brick pavement beneath 
 his window. The recitations were out, and the young 
 men were going hither, thither, as if the world were 
 real, were really real 1
 
 CHAPTER in 
 
 THAT summer Jack took the place of the Boston clerk 
 in his cousin's hotel, and performed his duties so skil 
 fully that his uncle and aunt refrained from criticising 
 harshly the higher education. Elsie Mason spent very 
 few days at the Neck, her summer going in a round of 
 visits. Ned Mather was in bed in the Mather cottage 
 for long weeks, suffering from rheumatic fever, and the 
 incipient friendship Jack had had with him strength 
 ened. Late in the season Black came to the Neck to 
 tutor Mather, who had numberless conditions, and the 
 three young men spent a week together shooting in the 
 backwoods of Maine. 
 
 When he returned to Cambridge, the college world 
 broadened for Jack. Here and there he made friends, 
 and finally joined one of the more modest societies. But 
 the big Westerner and the demure student remained his 
 only close companions. Mather had gone back to his 
 polo, and Jack had not seen him for weeks, when one 
 Saturday afternoon he appeared in the little College 
 House room and asked Jack to drive out to Riverside 
 with him and spend the Sunday. His sister had opened 
 the place for a few weeks, he explained, and Jack with 
 out hesitation accepted. It would be odd to look at Pan- 
 coast Lane from the other side of the fence ! He found 
 
 146
 
 THE REAL WORLD 147 
 
 a small house party in the old place on the hill, of whom 
 the Mathers and Frank Mason were the only ones he 
 knew. They were all young people, Isabelle Mather's 
 set, and they had a thousand links, formed from com 
 mon enjoyments and common idleness. Miss Mather, 
 who for her brother's sake made special efforts to in 
 terest the new-comer, pleased Jack the least. She had 
 grown tall and thin. Her coloring was pale and fine; 
 her eyes blue; and her hair almost yellow. A little 
 bloodless and delicate, a little thin and narrow, so 
 Jack thought, but for all that a distinguished flower 
 from the old Puritan family. Her manners were as well 
 thought out as her gowns, and she never forgot herself 
 for one instant. Jack detected soon that there was 
 something between her and Frank Mason, who was the 
 pet of the set. It made him vaguely uneasy to see the 
 intensity of feeling that flashed into Isabelle Mather's 
 deep eyes for this Mason, whom he considered a common 
 toady. 
 
 Sunday evening it was at the close of a warm April 
 day Jack came across the two in the old pavilion, which 
 was now a mere wreck for vines to climb over. He had 
 been prowling about old Cliff's garden, which was in the 
 process of being converted into town lots, and had for a 
 half hour gazed over into the weedy back yard of the 
 Pancoast Lane house. It was a dismal place ! The cave 
 of misfortune, sure enough! Possibly his family had 
 cursed it, and no successor had had enough sweetness 
 to eradicate their story of depression and defeat. On 
 his way back he had turned to the pavilion, the secret
 
 148 THE BBAL WORLD 
 
 retreat of his earlier years, where the young aristocrat 
 had given him his first social lesson. Frank Mason and 
 Miss Mather rose at the sound of his steps. He noticed 
 that her pale face was flushed, her eyes exultant; the 
 young man looked consciously satisfied. The intruder 
 halted clumsily and turned to leave them to themselves, 
 but Miss Mather called him, with a cool and indifferent 
 note in her voice : 
 
 " Were you recalling old memories, Mr. Pemberton ? " 
 
 "Yes," he replied shortly, turning again to leave 
 them. 
 
 " Don't run away," Miss Mather continued. " You 
 might point out the scenes of your childhood to Mr. 
 Mason and me." 
 
 Jack thought she was poking fun at him, but in fact 
 she was merely embarrassed. 
 
 " I remember pretty distinctly one small, disagreeable 
 scene that took place in this arbor." 
 
 " What was it ? " she asked idly, evidently to keep the 
 conversation going. Mason whistled and struck at the 
 dead leaves in the path, gradually drawing away from 
 them. 
 
 "Merely a very good lesson administered by you," 
 Jack replied. 
 
 "Oh, I remember!" Miss Mather admitted, blushing 
 with annoyance. Her mood was joyous, however, and 
 she refused to be disturbed. Jack made no effort to find 
 a new topic of conversation. Miss Mather suddenly re 
 marked, as if she had found some common ground : 
 
 "I hoped that Miss Mason would be here. But shs
 
 THE REAL WORLD 149 
 
 is so very busy in New York. You like Miss Mason a 
 great deal, don't you ? " 
 
 " Yes," Jack answered simply. 
 
 " So do I ! " Miss Mather exclaimed, with unaccus 
 tomed animation. " She is so unusual and honest, 
 don't you think so ? " 
 
 " Yes," Jack admitted, in the same reserved manner. 
 
 " Have you seen her lately ? " she continued, as though 
 resolved not to lose sight of this topic. 
 
 "No, not lately." 
 
 The limited replies dampened the girl's cordiality. At 
 a loss what to do with this singular guest, whom her 
 brother had injected into her house party, she led the 
 way toward the house. 
 
 " Do you like your college life, Mr. Pemberton ? " she 
 asked, making another effort. 
 
 "Sometimes," Jack laughed, and then Miss Mather 
 laughed at their futile attempts to converse. She was 
 gay and excited a mood that Jack attributed to the 
 t&te-h-t&te which he had interrupted. 
 
 "Do you see Mr. Mason in Cambridge?" the girl 
 asked shyly. 
 
 "Never," Jack replied promptly. 
 
 Then she took him to the stables to show him a new 
 pony that Ned had just bought, and from there they 
 went to the conservatory to see an orchid which had 
 been much praised. Her hospitable attempts irritated 
 Jack, and yet he rather liked the girl. While she talked 
 he kept wondering what qualities in Frank Mason had 
 attracted her.
 
 150 THE REAL WORLD 
 
 That something had happened which might bring 
 Mason nearer to the Mather family, he could guess from 
 Ned Mather's attitude toward Mason the next morning 
 on their way to Cambridge. He caught Mather's cold, 
 expressionless face studying Mason with nonchalant 
 scrutiny, as if he were searching for the charm that had 
 acted on his reserved sister. Jack fancied that it would 
 not be altogether agreeable to be a nouveau, as Elsie ex 
 pressed it, and a suitor for Miss Mather's hand. After 
 Ned's comparatively harmless scrutiny, there would be 
 Eoger's and the General's. But Frank Mason was ap 
 parently undisturbed. 
 
 Jack was glad to be back in his work-a-day world, with 
 an engagement at the editorial rooms of the Boston Scav 
 enger, a thesis in constitutional history to be finished, 
 and a hundred petty obligations which weigh upon the 
 poor and ambitious. Stevenson tramped boisterously 
 into his room at noon, with the announcement that he 
 had been promoted from the second to the first 'varsity 
 boat. 
 
 "Who says that everything goes by favor in this 
 town ? " he demanded exultantly. 
 
 Jack did not agree with the inference altogether, but 
 he rejoiced at the fact. After Stevenson had departed 
 to carry his joy elsewhere, Zimmerman dropped in for 
 a few minutes. This young instructor, who had recently 
 passed through the struggles which beset Jack, had 
 taken a great liking for the younger man, and talked 
 with him openly as a comrade. He it was who gradu 
 ally turned Jack's thoughts to the law school, that tradi-
 
 THE REAL WORLD 151 
 
 tional gate through which so many poor and ambitious 
 American young men have passed out into life. After 
 Zimmerman had gone, Jack settled himself at work, and 
 it was not until far into the evening that the thought 
 of Riverside, Frank Mason, the Mathers, returned to his 
 mind. 
 
 Frank Mason might be said to have arrived ! He won 
 dered if Elsie had been equally successful. The little 
 he had heard of her lately had not enlightened him. As 
 he thought of her in the idle moments at the close of his 
 busy day, the old longing to be with her, to hear her 
 voice, came over him. Should he ever see her again, 
 intimately ? He laughed at himself, and went to bed. 
 
 Not many weeks thereafter occurred the first great 
 baseball game of the season between Harvard and Yale 
 on Soldiers' Field. As Jack was leaving at the close of 
 the fifth inning, he heard his name called from a row 
 of seats before which he had to pass. 
 
 "Jack!" 
 
 He stopped, and looked vaguely at the sea of faces. 
 
 "Jack!" 
 
 There could be no mistake in the tone, and this time 
 he saw Mason, who was leaning over his sister's shoulder 
 and whispering. But Elsie waved Frank aside impa 
 tiently, and stood up. Jack raised his hat, and climbed 
 impetuously up the rough corners of the staging until 
 his head emerged on a level with Mason's. Elsie, 
 who had been watching him eagerly, smiled, and said, 
 mischievously :
 
 152 THE REAL WOKLD 
 
 " Couldn't I do that ? Give me your hand." 
 
 Before Frank could place a detaining hand upon her 
 arm, she had slipped from her seat and was swinging 
 down the trusses. A laugh followed her from the sec 
 tion. Elsie looked up, waved her hand jauntily at her 
 party, and turned to Jack. 
 
 " Why haven't you written me ? What are you doing 
 with yourself ? Are you forgetful or just nasty ? " 
 
 " I wanted to forget ! " Jack exclaimed. 
 
 " Pride, eh ? Bad thing. Now that stupid game will 
 last another hour. You are going to take me over to the 
 river and talk to me until six. Then you can bring me 
 back to Frank's rooms. Come ! " 
 
 They skirted the semicircle of lofty staging, which 
 was black with restless people. Elsie glanced at the 
 young man critically. Finally, she delivered her opin 
 ion: 
 
 " You're most a man now, Jack, did you know it ? 
 And handsome." 
 
 " You have changed, too," he replied, blushing. 
 
 " Yes," she admitted. " The two years have gone fast. 
 Tell me ! " She came closer to him, brushing his arm in 
 her eagerness. " Do you like me just as well as ever ? " 
 
 He would not reply, and she dashed off upon a new 
 attack. 
 
 " Tell me all about yourself. What are you going to 
 do ? Have you made your place here ? Who are your 
 friends ? But first, what profession will you take ? I 
 want to know all ! " 
 
 " Law, I guess," Jack responded, with amusement.
 
 THE REAL WORLD 153 
 
 " That's good," she commented thoughtfully. " I 
 should say that or journalism. Law opens up into many 
 paths, politics, diplomacy, higher business. We Ameri 
 cans don't think enough of diplomacy. Yes, I am 
 pleased with law." 
 
 Her air of worldly judgment amused Jack, and also 
 the summary method in which she disposed of all alter 
 natives. 
 
 " You haven't influence enough for business." 
 
 " I thought of teaching," he added. Elsie frowned. 
 
 "Teaching, even the professor's work in a university, 
 doesn't count for much in our country. We're too young. 
 In England it is another thing, or Germany, but only 
 timid ones or queer people you never know take to 
 that kind of thing in our country. I don't mean to be 
 little the scholar," she added, with an air of broad world- 
 liness, " any more than the minister, if one is called." 
 
 She left it to be inferred that to be " called " to either 
 form of ministration should be regarded as a calamity. 
 Jack smiled at her conception of choosing a career, as if 
 it were a practical affair like selecting a house-lot, over 
 which one should not waste too much time coquetting 
 with the soul, but should dash ahead at once, and never 
 look back. 
 
 "Well, now that is settled," she continued, "tell me 
 about your friends, your social life. People, you know, 
 are more important than books. Every solid acquaint 
 ance you make now is like a seed planted ; you will get 
 results later. You know I don't mean that in the snobby 
 way Frank would take it ! I don't mean merely as con-
 
 154 THE REAL WORLD 
 
 nections they will be valuable, but as interests. You 
 should know people who will mean something in the 
 world, as you will mean something." 
 
 "I haven't much to show," Jack responded half- 
 humorously. "Only little Black, and Big Steve, and 
 Mather, and Zimmerman." 
 
 He sketched these friends for her in a few words. 
 
 " I like your man Stevenson," Elsie responded quickly. 
 " Frank would not know enough to appreciate him, would 
 see only his ' bounder ' side ; but power will out, and the 
 power in our country lies with just such men. Black's 
 story is pathetic and all that, but he will be a mouse in 
 a corner. Don't take yourself cheaply. People will 
 make room for you at your own estimate of size. Make 
 that large," she ended sagely. 
 
 Her parade of aphoristic wisdom amused and troubled 
 Jack, and yet he was inclined to heed her advice as he 
 had done before. He suspected that she voiced the 
 thoughts of the people with whom she lived. 
 
 "Now you?" he suggested. 
 
 " Yes," she exclaimed, with a new zest of egotism, " I 
 have seen so much ! " 
 
 And she plunged in, talking rapidly, helping out her 
 meaning with little gestures, calling upon his sympathy 
 to fill in with detail what she had time merely to hint 
 at. Her circle had widened and shifted. There was an 
 odor of what Elsie called " Bohemianism " to it. Tut- 
 trell's name came in again and again. Jack had seen this 
 name in the popular magazines. He was a spirit that 
 lived in the mixed waters of literature, journalism, and
 
 THE REAL WORLD 155 
 
 magazine appearance. To coin a word, he was " magazin- 
 ist." Elsie seemed to prize him highly, as a kind of 
 intellectual etiquette to the social brew she was making. 
 She also handled familiarly the name of Scanlan, the 
 artist, assuming that the man's fame had reached Jack's 
 world. In an aside she counselled him to see pictures : 
 there was no better road to real culture. Then there were 
 foreigners artists, attache's, special commissioners. Her 
 ease with foreign languages had been helpful. She ad 
 vised Jack to master French, at least. Lastly came 
 more familiar names, and among them the Mathers, who 
 seemed of quite secondary importance now. "Frank, 
 you know, is very sweet on Isabelle," she closed. 
 
 They had reached the end of the river path, where the 
 dredging machines were at work. The sunset was fading 
 over the green cemetery. Elsie looked at her watch 
 with a business-like sense of time. 
 
 " We must get back to Frank's room," she ordered. 
 
 Jack found surprisingly little to say to this alert, 
 worldly-wise young woman, whose very sympathy was 
 mere egotism. She had outdistanced him again in these 
 two years. She swept the pretty spring landscape, 
 bounded by the graceful curves of the Brookline hills, 
 but her face betrayed no especial pleasure. She gathered 
 her dainty skirt in her firm hand to protect it from the 
 dew of the marsh grass. 
 
 " It's great to be with you, Jack," she remarked, re 
 turning as always to the dominant personal note. " Give 
 me your arm ! There, I like to feel that you are tall and 
 strong."
 
 156 THE REAL WORLD 
 
 They talked little on their way back. When they 
 reached the streets of the town, which were filled 
 with students accompanying ladies, she dropped his 
 arm. 
 
 " When are you going to pay me that visit ? " she 
 demanded. "This spring?" 
 
 " Oh, sometime," he replied evasively. 
 
 " But you will write, at least ? And this summer ? " 
 
 "I have some work in Boston. I shan't be at the 
 Neck." 
 
 " Then you must come on the first thing next fall, and 
 write me, won't you ? " 
 
 She threw all the stress of her imperative will into the 
 demand, and forgetting his resolution, he agreed to write, 
 to visit her, not to drift away again. 
 
 They met Frank at the entrance to Claverly with Miss 
 Mather and her brother and the chaperone. They all 
 stood chatting for a few minutes. Miss Mather spoke 
 to Jack ; her face had the same joyous animation he had 
 felt in her mood at Riverside. She had forgotten herself 
 momentarily, and was happy at nothing. Frank asked 
 Jack to join them at supper, but he refused and took 
 leave of them, Elsie nodding to him lightly as if they 
 should meet on the morrow. Ned Mather overtook him 
 after he had gone a little way, and the two strolled toward 
 the noisy avenue where the crowded electric cars were 
 making a great noise. 
 
 "Odd, isn't it?" Mather observed in his tranquil, 
 detached manner. 
 
 "What's odd?"
 
 THE BEAL WORLD 157 
 
 " That such a thoroughbred and such a mongrel should 
 come from the same stock." 
 
 The epithets seemed to Jack especially apt ; coming 
 from a possible brother-in-law, they had a strange 
 audacity. 
 
 Nevertheless, the visit to New York was put off for one 
 reason or another. Elsie wrote at long intervals, and 
 Jack answered at still longer intervals. He was exceed 
 ingly busy : by taking extra courses and studying in the 
 summer school while working in Boston, he finished his 
 undergraduate course in three years and entered the law 
 school. He had worked hard, achieving a reputation 
 among the instructors who noticed him of honest intel 
 ligence and maturity rather than of cleverness. His 
 silent, inquiring face attracted the attention of a lec 
 turer, who found himself frequently talking to this face 
 rather than to his class. Yet it was impossible to sur 
 mount the youthful shyness and reticence of the fellow : 
 the instructors never came to know him. 
 
 One May day, at the close of his first year in the law 
 school, the occasion for the visit came about. Steve was 
 ill in New York, his sister Mary wrote him, and his 
 mother thought he should show enough brotherly feeling 
 to see what could be done for Steve. And one of Elsie's 
 rare letters had come that week. It was an unusually 
 fluttered missive, ending: 
 
 " But I can't write it this thing which I started to 
 tell you. It is very important, and I want to see you. 
 Do you care enough after these three years to come ? "
 
 158 THE KEAL WORLD 
 
 Was he boy enough to follow the bait ? He knew that 
 he was. 
 
 It was a little epoch in his life this journey to New 
 York. With a certain complacency he reviewed the 
 years since the girl's honest, kindly words had first 
 aroused his boy's mind. Then he had framed a plan, 
 and now he could see it partly executed. She had said 
 that the first thing which separated him from other 
 people was education. That in the accepted sense he 
 had got, and he could see his way pretty clearly to his 
 professional training. A small publishing house had 
 offered him work, which he could do while taking his 
 courses in the law school. And in the larger experi 
 ence of life he had gained something; his Harvard, maybe, 
 was narrow and quiet, but it was nevertheless dear to 
 him. He had accepted his position in the great middle 
 class of nobodies, and had made himself respected enough. 
 
 So, as he walked down the flag-stones beneath the trees 
 that were pushing out their young leaves, and enjoyed the 
 May sunshine which had opened the windows and drawn 
 the men out of doors, he had a pleasant content. " Big 
 Steve " joined him on his way home from a class, and 
 they dawdled companionably in the warm air. Stevenson, 
 who had renounced 'varsity athletics in his senior year, 
 smoked his pipe with all the enjoyment given by a long 
 period of enforced fast. They talked of little Black's 
 triumph in getting final highest honors in classics. 
 
 "Done in handsome style just nerve," the big fellow 
 commented appreciatively. "He'll get one of the best 
 scholarships, and then a travelling one, and some day
 
 THE REAL WORLD 159 
 
 he'll be a Ph.D. of some German university, and then up 
 there behind a desk is Sever. Would you like it ? " 
 
 Jack shook his head. 
 
 " No more than I, but it's pretty to see a man cut out 
 from the herd, and lay a straight line across the prairie 
 all by his lonesome." 
 
 " You gave him his boost," Jack demurred. 
 
 " That don't count," Stevenson responded wisely, wag 
 ging his pipe. "It isn't the boost there are plenty of 
 them ; it's the jump a man's got after he's had the boost. 
 Zimmerman gave you the boost, and he's given it to 
 others ; but you took it with a spring. What do you say 
 to coming out to Mound City with me this summer ? " he 
 ended abruptly. 
 
 "And what?" Jack asked. 
 
 " Oh ! just to look around, and breathe the prairie air 
 a few months. You can have your horse and rig, and if 
 you want to hunt a job, the old man will fix up something 
 on a ranch or in the road. The road's just getting on its 
 feet. They're building an extension nearly as long as the 
 road itself. I'm going to touch the old man for the job 
 of 'general counsel' when I've swallowed enough law. 
 I will look out for you if you say so." 
 
 The Iowa and Northern, as the railroad was ambi 
 tiously named, was a byword and joke among Big Steve's 
 friends. Stevenson had told Jack the story of its forma 
 tion and growth, the dramatic story of the elder Steven 
 son's struggle for the success of the little railroad. Jack, 
 accustomed to Big Steve's hyperbolic imagination, made 
 the proper New England discount upon all the optimistic
 
 160 THE KEAL WORLD 
 
 suggestions thus thrown out. Yet, standing there in the 
 scented spring air, his first heat in life well run, with 
 broader avenues opening before his energetic will, the 
 inner joy of sturdy friendship at his heart, he began to 
 see the world of shapes take form and substance. Possi 
 bly in time it would come to speak to him personally ; 
 already he seemed to stand above the vanity and worldli- 
 ness of Elsie and her associates, and to feel her desires 
 to be petty and mean, not sufficient for the broad purposes 
 of a man.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 THE Masons were living in a large, new "double- 
 decker " apartment overlooking the Park. Certain pieces 
 of Italian renaissance furniture, mixed with Louis XV. 
 mirrors, hung against faded brocade, and a number 
 of battered candlesticks and old prints appeared rather 
 odd in the radiator-and-hardwood-floor American apart 
 ment. But they spoke of Elsie and her wanderings, as 
 did also the authors' copies of several modern books 
 scattered over the table by her desk. On the one hand 
 she was seeking to make her way among people; on 
 the other she amused herself with artists, and believed 
 she had tastes. 
 
 Jack came in at dinner, at which he was the only guest. 
 They were all to go to the opera, a first night of some new 
 singer, and Elsie seemed more absorbed in that than in 
 anything else. After dinner, while he was smoking a ciga 
 rette, and Mr. and Mrs. Mason were putting on their 
 wraps, she came and stood before him with a little air 
 of expectant admiration. She had grown thin, and that 
 had seemingly added to her height, and had deepened 
 her eyes. Her complexion, in spite of the season's wear 
 and tear, had the velvety softness of a child's. In her 
 x 161
 
 162 THE EEAL WOULD 
 
 opera cloak, with her long, dangling white gloves, the 
 touch of smooth skin across the shoulders, and the black 
 line of her dress, she deserved the admiration. 
 
 "You like me?" 
 
 " Tremendously." 
 
 " I was never better." She patted the fur-tipped sleeves 
 of her cloak approvingly. 
 
 "Never!" 
 
 " I'm not going to talk to-night ; you must come to-mor 
 row morning at eleven-thirty, remember, and then we'll 
 be by ourselves, and I'll tell you everything " 
 
 Jack laughed. 
 
 " A great secret ? " 
 
 "A very great secret, and you must approve. Ah! 
 Jack it's so good to see you; you're one that just fits, 
 everywhere, here," she tapped her heart, "and here," 
 she swept her head. "I know something about you. 
 You are sincere and solemn, and much re-spected." She 
 drew the word out mockingly like a child. " Why didn't 
 you make up to that nice Belle Mather, the one Frank's 
 going to marry ? She's of the party to-night. But you 
 mustn't marry," she galloped on. " It would ruin you, 
 now, and you'd take some duffer of a girl who had been 
 sweet to you. And there you'd be, flat, a thousand a 
 year, babies. No, Jackey, just bleed the world a little 
 first. I won't let you marry." 
 
 She raced on, in a wave of high spirits, which never 
 flagged for an instant. At the theatre they met Gushing, 
 and Miss Mather, and Frank, who had come with another 
 party. Although it was late in the season, the evening
 
 THE REAL WORLD 163 
 
 was what Elsie pronounced brilliant. The boxes were 
 filled, and Elsie amused herself with pointing out people 
 of importance to Jack, who sat behind her in their box. 
 As she swept the auditorium with her glass, each dis 
 covery elicited an exclamation and comment. This was 
 her world, the one she labored for and despised. The 
 young man at her side looked up and down the boxes 
 with their women, old, young, homely, pretty, over 
 dressed, over jewelled, haggard, plump, vicious, vacuous, 
 or indifferent, and wondered, like a young man, what 
 could make the array so vitally absorbing, what aspira 
 tion could be perpetually fed by the sight of this Ameri 
 can aristocracy. Gushing, who had grown stouter and 
 grayer and slower in movement these last years, stood 
 at the other side of Elsie and drawled comments. It 
 was a relief when the orchestra compelled partial silence. 
 
 A throng of people dashed in and out of the box during 
 the entr'actes. Gushing and Frank made their calls, but 
 Jack sat on, dumb and overlooked in his corner, trying to 
 see the world as these people saw it, and getting hope 
 lessly puzzled. Some of the women leaned close to 
 Elsie's ear and whispered something that made her 
 smile, and then pressed her hand meaningly. Finally, 
 Jack roused himself and talked with Isabelle Mather, 
 who was pale and more bloodless than ever, with black 
 circles beneath her eyes. To be engaged, Jack observed, 
 for a woman in the world, was a great strain. Even the 
 natural pleasures of humanity came with social weight 
 and worry. 
 
 "Don't be peevish!" Elsie exclaimed the next morn-
 
 164 THE REAL WORLD 
 
 ing when Jack arrived on the moment designated. "1 
 hate peevish children, and you were very peevish yester 
 day evening." 
 
 "I'm no good with people," Jack defended himself. 
 
 " Lumpy ! Make yourself some good. Do you think 
 people are going to look through your glum eyes and sour 
 mouth, and see what a gold mine they're missing in that 
 solid head." 
 
 "You are so tired, Elsie!" he retorted impulsively. 
 "You look this morning years older than at the Neck. 
 What is the matter ? " 
 
 " Jack," she smiled dolefully, " I am tired, and years 
 older. We can't talk here. Let's go out to the Park 
 among the nurse maids." 
 
 When they had dodged the thundering cars in the 
 street and plunged into the green park, she began: 
 
 " You don't know how good it is to see you. It's like 
 a taste from the salty ocean across Seal Island! Will 
 you be good to me and understand, try to understand I 
 always want to tell you things, Jack." 
 
 She was the pleading child once more, demanding that 
 everything about her should be in tune, throwing herself 
 impulsively on the mercy of his stolid will, a tired, 
 worn child, who had an unusually long sum in arithmetic 
 before her and had forgotten the rules. He made no re 
 sponse, confident that more was to come, passive as was 
 his habit in words, but with a dumb, masculine tender 
 ness in face and eyes. 
 
 "Do you know what's happened?" Elsie broke in 
 again. " Do you know what I made you come on for ? "
 
 THE REAL WOBLD 165 
 
 At last Jack looked up from the gravel path which he 
 had been studying, and asked abruptly : " Do you like 
 Bushy Mr. Gushing, I mean ? " 
 
 "Jack," she put her hand on his arm and made 
 him stand still, " I'm, well I'm going to marry 
 Bushy." 
 
 He dropped his arm, as if struck by some unforeseen 
 calamity. 
 
 " What's the matter ? You take it as if I had just said 
 I was going to take poison. See, listen, and don't be 
 peevish." She led the way to a bench, and, sitting 
 down, turned her face to his ; she was serious, eager to con 
 vince him, to justify herself. " I admire Mr. Gushing im 
 mensely you don't understand him ! He is very clever 
 not your way, but in business, and has made all his 
 fortune, himself. He's wanted to marry me for years, 
 and, well, I'm engaged." 
 
 Jack laughed vacantly. It was all very absurd. 
 
 " He belongs to a good family, too, and we don't." 
 
 " What's that got to do with it ? " Jack asked roughly, 
 laughing at her. 
 
 " Everything ! I want my chance." 
 
 She emphasized the words lingeringly, and as Jack 
 gave her no clew, nothing to argue about, she con 
 tinued : 
 
 "I am always on the outside, a rank outsider; you 
 can't see, but I know and feel it every day. And to have 
 the best people for friends, you've got to have position. 
 Now I can't make a position, can I ? I've done pretty 
 well with what I have had to start with. But you can't
 
 166 THE HEAL, WORLD 
 
 pick up the nicest people here and there as you want 
 'em. Money won't do it. And I haven't even money. 
 A woman must have position, Jack ; of course you can't 
 understand that, but if you went about when you know 
 the world you'll understand." 
 
 She used her hands nervously, outlining in the air the 
 vague creations of her mind, which loomed before her as 
 vividly as the distant roofs of the city that he could see 
 in the haze beyond the Park. She was groping for a 
 larger field, a higher altitude, and he listened, trying to 
 grasp her meaning. 
 
 " One doesn't want to be second-rate, Jack, does one ? " 
 she questioned scornfully, and went on without pause. 
 "I want people about me, millions of 'em, and houses, 
 and horses, and everything up there." She waved her 
 hand sharply in the direction of the avenue. "And he 
 sympathizes, he understands what a woman needs, and 
 we shall be united, I think." 
 
 Jack laughed again senselessly. 
 
 "You don't do him justice! His father lost all he 
 had before he died, and Mr. Gushing has made his own 
 fortune, built up his business himself, that's a fine 
 thing, Jack, and earned the respect of self-made men, as 
 well as old swells like Marchmount and General Mather. 
 Shouldn't I feel proud that a man like that cares to 
 marry me, a nobody from Ohio ? " 
 
 "I guess so," Jack observed laconically, and then 
 laughed again. " You talk queerly, though, using your 
 wits too much." 
 
 " Oh, Jack," she murmured appealingly. " Don't say
 
 THE REAL WORLD 167 
 
 that. You know I can feel Well," her voice 
 changed to a new, hard key, "suppose I am heartless 
 and worldly. What of it ? " 
 
 "But you're not, all the way through," Jack remon 
 strated stoutly. 
 
 " I don't know. I feel as hard as nails some days. I 
 feel I could do anything to get what I wanted." 
 
 " What's the matter with what you have ? " 
 
 "To be snubbed by Mrs. Marchmount! You don't 
 understand, Jack. You think all those people fashion 
 able you saw yesterday at the opera. Well, they're not ; 
 most of them are only halfway. And that's what I 
 have been all my life, just halfway a kind of superior 
 hotel girl. Papa and mamma don't want anything better 
 than good dinners and the theatre, but I," her passion 
 ate face wore the expression of age that had come about 
 her eyes "I will go farther, and the first thing to do is 
 to marry ! " 
 
 " He takes you on those terms, does he ? " Jack asked 
 curiously. " Doesn't he want you to love him ? " 
 
 " Of course, I love him, Jack I'd be a fool to marry 
 him if I didn't ! And it would be very wrong, too ! I 
 don't love him sentimentally, and gushingly, like a girl, 
 but honestly, with respect and all that." 
 
 " You don't seem to love him any too much ! " 
 
 " Why do you say that ? " 
 
 " You're too clear-headed about it, and what you want 
 to get." 
 
 " Nonsense ! You're a mere boy." 
 
 " Think so ? " He turned his bloodshot brown eyes on
 
 168 THE HEAL WORLD 
 
 her hungrily. "You don't know what it is to love, I 
 believe, and perhaps never will." 
 
 " What is it to love, then ? " she asked, with childish 
 impetuosity, as if eager for the revelation of a new 
 mystery. 
 
 "It's to see what you love taken away before your 
 eyes, and keep on loving for the sake of loving," Jack 
 answered, rather darkly. " It's to care for nothing else, 
 to see nothing else, to hope for nothing else." 
 
 " Could you love that way ? " she demanded, with vivid 
 curiosity. 
 
 " Elsie, Elsie," he repeated, lingering on the name that 
 he rarely used even to himself, "I love you that way, 
 and it's so sublimely silly, especially now ! But I know 
 what I say is so. I shall always love you " 
 
 He stopped, embarrassed by his courage. The girl's 
 buoyant manner sank to a stillness that was oppressive. 
 
 " Nonsense ! " she exclaimed at length, with an effort. 
 " You're silly, and I never expected that of you. We've 
 never been sentimental." 
 
 " Don't bother about it," Jack retorted, wincing. " I 
 shouldn't have said anything if it hadn't been so far 
 away and impossible. Put it down to me as a little 
 eccentricity it won't do you any harm. But that's 
 what love is the power to care just the same when it's 
 beyond your reach." 
 
 " You're not a boy any longer," she said, after a mo 
 ment, " and I am glad you feel that way. It somehow 
 is so strange ! " 
 
 She put her hand upon his, as though to bring them
 
 THE REAL WORLD 169 
 
 nearer. He took it gently, and touched it softly with 
 his other hand. "Always," he muttered. "Almost! 
 almost ! " 
 
 " What do you mean, Jack ? " she asked, with grave 
 curiosity. 
 
 He smiled, his eyes far away upon the misty hills 
 above Green Bay. 
 
 "A feeling I have," he explained, "that things are 
 always just beyond, hidden away, beyond my reach. 
 You stepped out from the fog, and now you will step 
 back." 
 
 "No, no, no," she iterated appealingly. "Don't! I 
 want you to love me for always." 
 
 "A selfish child !" 
 
 " Yes," she admitted honestly. " Horribly selfish." 
 
 " Well, you will always have it will that please you, 
 Elsie ? " 
 
 " Yes," she answered, withdrawing her hand as a victo 
 ria came toward them from the lower end of the park. 
 
 " Of course," she resumed, when the carriage had passed, 
 " I've thought about all that. But I suppose I am not 
 like most girls. I'm practical and outspoken, and really 
 matter of fact. Perhaps I haven't what people call 
 heart." 
 
 "I hope not," the young man commented bluntly. 
 " And that you'll never di scorer one later. People seem 
 all alike," he mused on. " Groping for something that 
 will be real to them. I wonder if most of them ever find 
 it ! I thought you were different never had to go a-grop- 
 ing in the dark, but you're groping harder than the
 
 170 THE BBAL TTOBLD 
 
 rest. I hope you'll find what you want, Fm sure. I think 
 I never shall." 
 
 " Of course I'll find it," she rejoined triumphantly, re 
 lieved that they were back once more on the safe ground 
 of her puissant ambitions, where her indomitable will and 
 assurance could find ground to play. "I shall be some 
 body the world will move." 
 
 " Your world will always move," he assented, with a 
 touch of his old admiration. 
 
 " And I've thought, too, that I could make yours a little 
 better. Yes, really, I've thought lots about that what 
 I could do for you when I am established." 
 
 He did not thank her, and she continued coaxingly : 
 
 " Bushy we are going to build a splendid cottage at 
 High Head, the other side of the Neck. He bought the 
 land last summer. And there are to be loads and loads 
 of guest-rooms, and a small harbor, and a breakwater, and 
 stables. And we've selected a lot up here east of the 
 Park. " 
 
 " Then the fog will lift," he remarked, following a dif 
 ferent line of thought. 
 
 " Tell me what you mean by the fog ! " she demanded. 
 
 So he tried to tell her how his life had been the sim 
 ple, intangible experiences of his soul, the perpetual iso 
 lation, the nothings, until he had known her. 
 
 " And you were real," he ended, with a laugh. " At 
 least I thought so." 
 
 " You think I'm not now. I'm groping ? n 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " In a selfish way, blindly, marrying Bushy ? n
 
 THE REAL WORLD 171 
 
 " Yes, marrying Bushy ! " 
 
 "I suppose so," she acknowledged, "but I don't feel 
 this way often. I see things and I want them." 
 
 " I hope you'll get them," he answered, a little wearily. 
 
 " Well, we must go home for luncheon now," she re 
 joined briskly. "You must be nice to Bushy I'll 
 make him be nice to you." 
 
 They walked down the path in silence, but before they 
 came out into the glare of the avenue near the apartment 
 building, she paused a moment and put her hand on his 
 arm. 
 
 " Jack, I don't love that way ! " Her face was very ear 
 nest and puzzled. " Perhaps there's something the mat 
 ter with me ! But I am glad you feel that way. Will 
 you always ? " 
 
 " Always," he repeated, laughing ironically, " long after 
 you have forgotten this and me." 
 
 " I sha'n't forget, Jack ! You have given me too much." 
 
 He smiled sadly in acknowledgment, and taking her 
 small, firm hand, carried it to his lips. Then he blushed, 
 discomfited, with the Anglo-Saxon self-consciousness in 
 yielding to his impulse. 
 
 " Jack, dear Jack ! " she murmured, and seemed loath 
 to have the moment pass. 
 
 Yet, in spite of the genuine tenderness of her voice, her 
 manner, there was something in the very firmness of flesh, 
 the cool hard tones of the face and hands that gave the man 
 a sensation of essential coldness. Perhaps to every one, 
 to the next caller, or Bushy himself, she was equally 
 frank, generous, entertaining, and heartless. There was
 
 172 THE REAL WORLD 
 
 nothing false or hypocritical in her, and possibly nothing 
 capable of great tenderness, of great passion and devo 
 tion. If so, she might be wise to play with her world as 
 she had. When she left him at the entrance to the Park 
 for he refused to return to luncheon and walked away, 
 erect, determined, admirably capable for any event, he 
 felt again those firm, cool hands, and saw the gray, cool 
 eyes. Was it perfect health, perfect sanity, and noth 
 ing more ? 
 
 He roamed about the Park aimlessly, and after a time 
 he found the bench where they had sat, and stayed there 
 for hours. He listened closely for the tones of the girl's 
 voice, and he still tingled with the glow she had always 
 given him in spite of the wretched conviction that for 
 the first time she was taking a false step, which would 
 lead her into undreamed-of difficulties and self-deceits. 
 She was so possessed by what immediately surrounded 
 her ! Could she not see that in a short time these sur 
 roundings would shift, vanish, change, and that the bustle 
 of her mind would change too ? 
 
 He was not so devoid of humor as not to smile at him 
 self, twenty-one, as nearly penniless as a man could be, 
 his 'prentice years not finished, and in love with a woman 
 who cared supremely for all the things that he had not ! 
 Until she had told him, in her casual, irresponsible 
 manner, that she was to marry, he had never thought 
 what she was to him. He told her that he should always 
 love her, and he had no sense now of personal loss. 
 For in his imagination she was always moving in spaces 
 withdrawn from his silent world. Her determination to
 
 THE EEAL WORLD 173 
 
 marry this man, or any other, was but a harsh sign of her 
 physical remoteness from him. That could not take 
 away his love or stale the joy of it. It simply set it 
 firm, as one of the unalterable elements of his life. 
 She would need it, too, he felt secretly, she would 
 always need love and devotion, more than one man could 
 give, more than this gray, heavy person called Gushing 
 had the power to give. Some day in the more peopled 
 future, he should touch her perchance more nearly. 
 
 The feathery verdure of the trees swam mistily in the 
 soft heavens, the roar of the great city enveloped the Park, 
 like a powerful overtone. An energetic sparrow hopped 
 pretentiously to and fro on the gravelled path in front of 
 his bench, officiously displaying its private affairs. 
 From the gay people in the opera boxes to this important 
 sparrow at his feet life hummed past him, each member 
 performing with ridiculous self-absorption and energy 
 his little puppet-show! He drew himself from the 
 bench, and slowly, wearily feeling the pounds of his 
 body and counting his steps, he walked on, determined 
 to plant himself in the thick of things, sooner or 
 later, and start there his puppet-show and lose him 
 self as the others did in enthusiasm over their own 
 antics. 
 
 The girl was so fair and appealing ! Her white hand 
 trembled in his, her eyes struggled to see beyond the 
 surface brilliance of her little scene, her mouth rippled 
 in eager speech the pity that she would cast herself 
 into that man's cold arms ! 
 
 His purposeless steps brought him to the steep heights
 
 174 THE REAL WORLD 
 
 far up the city. He looked down hungrily into the city's 
 depth, searching in the indistinguishable blur of roofs 
 for the big apartment building that held her. That was 
 her world, the opulent city 1 And he was a tramp who 
 had wandered into its streets. Some day he should 
 return to the city and to her.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 STEVE PEMBERTON lived in a small flat in a new apart 
 ment building on one of the thoroughfares of upper 
 Harlem. When Jack called he was admitted, after a 
 long delay, by a young woman who peered around the 
 edge of the door, holding together the folds of a wrapper 
 with one hand. After the first moment of suspicious 
 scrutiny, she threw open the door and smiled rapidly. 
 
 " I guess you're Jack," she said, laughing at the young 
 man's astonishment. "Come right in. Steve's gone 
 round the corner to get a shave, and he'll be back directly. 
 We've been looking for you most all day." 
 
 Talking and laughing alternately, she hurried Jack 
 into the front room and pushed out a large " rocker " for 
 him. He was too much puzzled to reply to the little ques 
 tions she emitted. Mary had not written him of Steve's 
 marriage, and he was confident that she would not omit 
 such an important bit of family news. This young wo 
 man, on the other hand, with her intimate air of proprie 
 torship in the flat and in Steve could not be a servant, or a 
 nurse. Possibly she was the landlady of the apartment. 
 
 She made many apologies for her wrapper, which 
 though far from fresh, became her tall figure, and for 
 her rumpled hair, which she poked nervously without 
 obtaining any perceptible order in its fluffy mass. Her 
 
 175
 
 176 THE KEAL WOULD 
 
 volubility declined under Jack's diffidence. She sat 
 down on the edge of the lounge opposite him and crossed 
 her legs, stretching out two plump, rather large hands 
 over her knees in order to display her rings. She was 
 pretty in spite of her large hands, high cheek bones, and 
 a defective tooth. Her hair of a peculiar light gold 
 was brushed up in fluffy waves according to the new Paris 
 mode, which Jack had seen the evening before for the 
 first time. There were evident remains of powder over 
 her plump face, and deep circles under the blue eyes, 
 which added to their prettiness. A slight puffiness of 
 flesh, both of face and of arms, indicated a lack of exer 
 cise. 
 
 " How do you like the city ? Ever been here before ? " 
 she repeated more slowly, endeavoring to cover the bare 
 arms in her wrapper. 
 
 Jack's stumbling answer was interrupted by the arri 
 val of Steve, who carried a bulky paper parcel. The two 
 brothers shook hands and looked each other over with 
 mutual curiosity, as if inquiring what changes four years 
 had wrought. Steve had grown noticeably stouter, and 
 his blond mustache had thickened. Jack's memories of 
 his older brother had softened during their separation ; 
 he was not prepared for this rather loudly dressed, hand 
 some but sensual young clerk. The years at Cambridge 
 had accustomed him to a different type. 
 
 " You're looking better than I expected to find you," 
 Jack said first. " Mary wrote you were sick." 
 
 " Stella has nursed me fine," Steve replied, jerking his 
 head in the direction of the young woman. " Have you
 
 THE REAL WORLD 177 
 
 introduced yourself ? " he added. And in spite of Stella's 
 giggling response, "I guess we made out to pass the 
 time of day," Steve pronounced the proper formula: 
 " Make you acquainted with Miss Seymour, my brother 
 John." Stella and Jack shook hands, and Stella said 
 briskly, "Be pleased to know you better, Mr. Pember- 
 ton." 
 
 After a moment's embarrassed silence, she remarked : 
 
 " Yes, your brother's been real bad. He'd be all right, 
 if he behaved half decent, wouldn't you, Steve ? " 
 
 Then perceiving the bundle, she seized upon it with 
 hilarity. 
 
 " Got anything good there ? I hope you brought along 
 some cr&me de menthe. I don't like your horrid whiskey." 
 
 She jumped up from the lounge and whisked across 
 the room to a tiny secretary, which contained various bot 
 tles, and noisily rattled them about. Then she whisked 
 into the inner room to wash some glasses, her stride 
 bringing out the rustle of a silk skirt beneath the wrap 
 per. 
 
 "Stella's been real nice," Steve observed, when she 
 was out of the room, as if to break up Jack's shyness. 
 
 " What's that he's saying 'bout me ? " Stella called 
 from the inner room. "I wouldn't trust your brother 
 'round the door, he's so smooth with the ladies." 
 
 She burst into a trill of laughter and opened her eyes 
 full upon Jack as she reappeared, holding the glasses at 
 arm's length by their stems. Her pose reminded Jack 
 of one of the soubrettes Stevenson and he had admired 
 from the gallery of the theatre. Only all her acts, in this
 
 178 THE BBAL WORLD 
 
 tiny apartment, were emphasized and coarsened, as is a 
 photograph when drawn rapidly toward the eyes. 
 
 " Have a drink ? " she asked cheerily, flourishing a 
 bottle over her shoulder. "I don't like to see ladies 
 drinkin' whiskey, do you?" she added, peering confi 
 dently into Jack's face and opening her lips in a rapid 
 smile. "It looks tough, I say; most of the girls do, 
 though." 
 
 Tongue-tied Jack felt like a fool. 
 
 " A little cordial, or wine, or a nice tintsy, wintsy cock 
 tail now ? " She raised the glass in a theatrical sweep, 
 and with a " To our better acquaintance," drank it off. 
 
 Then she offered Jack a cigarette and lit one. Throw 
 ing herself into a lounging chair, she inhaled a long puff 
 of smoke, letting it filter through her nostrils, closing 
 her eyes in dream. In a moment she was up again, 
 whisking in and out, walking with the soubrette swagger 
 and sweep. Jack could not talk. Even when she was 
 out of the room, he could not bring his eyes to rest 
 easily on his brother. The girl made an uncomfortable 
 consciousness between them of something not to be 
 mentioned. 
 
 A slatternly servant came in from somewhere at this 
 point, and with Stella's assistance prepared dinner. 
 When Stella was removed, the embarrassment between 
 the brothers increased rather than lessened. The woman 
 rose between them as something that could not be dis 
 cussed. In an effort to regain his assurance, Steve began 
 to talk about the family. Had Jack been to Coffin's 
 Falls to see them? On Jack's shaking his head, the
 
 THE REAL WORLD 179 
 
 older brother had his chance to deliver a little lecture 
 011 family feeling, which put him in a comfortable posi 
 tion of superiority once more : 
 
 "Mother's poorly," he ended. "And when she's gone, 
 you'll know what you missed and what you haven't done. 
 Mary's grown to be quite a girl." 
 
 Then he talked about his business he was salesman 
 in an iron foundry business and asked Jack about 
 Harvard, commenting: 
 
 "I've never seen anything but fooling among college 
 boys. All they go there for, I guess, is to have a good 
 time, easy, for four years." 
 
 He shared the universal belief of his class in the 
 inutility of the higher education. 
 
 So it was a relief to sit down to dinner with Miss 
 Seymour, who had exchanged the wrapper for a bright 
 lavender silk skirt and white waist which made her 
 seem larger and more buoyant than ever. She was 
 good-natured and full of lively spirits. Jack forgot his 
 embarrassment, and enjoyed her little worldly airs, her 
 vivacity and slang. 
 
 " You're going to take me to the show," she announced 
 at dessert. "Old Lou gave me tickets when I went to 
 strike him for a job yesterday. Mamie Holabird is in 
 it." 
 
 Steve made no objections, and after Stella had cautioned 
 her invalid jocularly not to make a night of it with some 
 other lady, the two took the elevated train for the city. 
 In the car, which was well filled with men and women on 
 their way to the theatres, Stella attracted attention less
 
 180 THE HEAL WORLD 
 
 by her dress than by her manner and her abundant laugh. 
 Jack was uncomfortably conscious that he and his com 
 panion were of vivid interest to fifteen or twenty dull 
 persons. 
 
 At first Stella's habit of looking very intently into his 
 face, coyly closing her eyes only to open them full upon 
 him, disturbed him, but when he realized that this was 
 but a trick, probably caught at the theatre, and did not 
 mean flirtation, he did not mind it. Indeed, beneath 
 the superficial surface of dress and manner, Stella was a 
 city relative of Sadie or Ruth of Pemberton Neck. She 
 had her own standards of propriety and decency, and 
 rather obtrusively paraded these and her honest thoughts. 
 She seemed to comprehend Jack far better than did his 
 brother, and tried to suppress what might appear to him 
 irregular and give him the belief that she was not quite 
 nice, "like a lady," as she would say. She would 
 have considered it quite abominable to flirt with him or 
 treat him as a gallant. 
 
 The play was a popular society comedy, something 
 vulgarized from the French by a coarse English adapter. 
 Stella had a keen eye for the gowns and the decorative 
 elements of the scene. 
 
 " Are you on the stage ? " Jack asked after the curtain 
 went down. 
 
 " I'm not regularly connected," Stella answered. " Last 
 season I was on the road, but the manager went broke." 
 
 "Do you like it?" 
 
 " They don't pay nothin', and when a girl wants her 
 fling they fire her."
 
 THE REAL WORLD 181 
 
 Later she told him that she was expecting to get a 
 place with this company, that she was negotiating with 
 the manager. At the close of the next act she asked 
 about Harvard, and about the Maine country. 
 
 "I'd like to get into the country some summer," she 
 added. "A feller a friend of mine was going to 
 take some of us girls down to a cottage on the shore, but 
 I guess he went broke. I spent a week two summers ago 
 up on a farm in Vermont. They were real nice folks, 
 and, my ! it was a rest." 
 
 They had established a good human understanding, 
 and the girl, who had all the narrow egotism, the child 
 ishness, of her class, told him about her career. She had 
 been born in a little stuffy side street of Brooklyn, and 
 almost from the cradle her joys had been candy, "fellers," 
 and the theatre. After she left school at fourteen, she had 
 tried working in a store. There she had her love affair, 
 which she talked about with great freedom, as of some 
 rather distinguishing experience, like religion or great 
 worldly success. It had an unfortunate termination. And 
 then had come the old cravings for pleasure, for candy 
 and " fellers " and clothes and champagne and the theatre. 
 
 " My folks are real good," she ended, rather boastfully. 
 " And they think I'm working at a big salary. I go to 
 see 'em every now and then, when I've got any pennies, 
 and take 'em something. My sister is married to a fine 
 gentleman out in Buffalo." 
 
 The pitiful effort to impress him touched the young 
 man. If it were not for her connection with Steve, he 
 could have been honestly friendly with her. But all the
 
 182 THE REAL WORLD 
 
 instincts of his life made it impossible easily to overlook 
 that irregular relation. 
 
 " You ain't a bit like Steve," Stella observed at last. 
 
 " Why not ? " Jack inquired, with curiosity. 
 
 " Oh ! your brother is a bad boy," she laughed back. 
 "You're nice and pleasant and friendly. I hate those 
 loud ways all the time." 
 
 Her face clouded in the pathetic desire for repose of 
 the tired creature. 
 
 As they emerged from the theatre, Stella discovered a 
 friend in the crowded foyer, a tall girl with a sweeping 
 " picture " hat that became her well. 
 
 "Isn't this just luck! There's Liddy, and we'll go 
 out to Biron's over on Broadway and have a bite." 
 
 The introductions were made, rather loudly; Jack 
 noticed that some of the people who were waiting for 
 their carriages turned and looked at them. His compan 
 ions were richly dressed, not unlike the innumerable 
 photographs of actresses that were set about the foyer 
 on little easels. Stella and Liddy were of the theatre, 
 there could be no doubt of that, even if they were at the 
 bottom of the " profession." 
 
 As they left the theatre, Stella brushed close to one of 
 the women who was waiting for a carriage. Jack recog 
 nized Miss Mather and prepared to bow, but she turned 
 her face blankly in another direction, leaving him with 
 the unpleasant sensation of having been observed and 
 not seen. 
 
 In the basement cafe", glittering with the reflection of 
 electric lights upon marble, there were many little theatre
 
 THE REAL WORLD 183 
 
 parties. Jack's companions stood in the middle of the 
 room, debating loudly what table to select. They flung 
 themselves into their chairs with dramatic abandon, and 
 unbuttoned their light coats, negligently looking over 
 the assembled company. At the other tables there were 
 some women like Stella and Liddy, and more that gazed 
 oflishly and curiously at them. 
 
 " Have you any change, Liddy ? " Stella asked play 
 fully. Liddy displayed a little gold-mesh purse, from 
 which she drew ten cents. 
 
 " That for car-fare to-morrow." 
 
 The girls giggled and made much of the topic. Finally 
 they ordered their supper, an expensive one Jack thought 
 when he came to pay the bill, but he little knew what 
 Stella's kindness had saved him from. For Liddy dis 
 played the insatiable greed of the courtesan who sees her 
 chance. Jack noticed that Stella touched her companion 
 with her foot beneath the table, signalling her in some 
 way. The order given, Liddy turned her languishing 
 eyes upon Jack. They had the same deep circles that 
 he had first noticed in Stella. Her manner was more 
 composed; she was evidently more experienced than 
 Stella. 
 
 " Do you know Frank Mason ? " she asked Jack, when 
 she had learned from Stella that he was at college. 
 " He's a great friend of mine Mr. Mason." 
 
 Jack started at the sound of the name. He did not 
 care to press the subject, however. The recklessness 
 of the girls rose with the wine they drank. They lopped 
 more carelessly over the table, and Liddy dropped her
 
 184 THE REAL WORLD 
 
 arm caressingly on Jack's arm. They smoked, one 
 cigarette after another. The other women those that 
 had stayed on were also smoking, and over in a 
 corner a rather boisterous struggle was in progress be 
 tween a man in evening dress and a stout young Jewess. 
 
 At twelve they were on the deserted street, walking in 
 the direction of Liddy's room, which was near by. Stella 
 spoke of spending the night there. Liddy was hanging 
 on Jack's arm, her plumed hat brushing against his face. 
 She was talking more rapidly now, and in a pleasant, 
 rather southern voice. When they stopped before a 
 dark house in the cross-street, and he let Liddy's arm 
 fall, Stella exclaimed : 
 
 " You ain't goin'. Come in and have somethin' on 
 Liddy. Then you can take me up Harlem way to 
 Steve's." 
 
 Jack, who was disposed to accept the suggestion un 
 suspiciously, disliked the plain reference to her relation 
 with Steve. 
 
 " Come in," Liddy urged. " Stella can have Mame's 
 room, I know it's too late to go way up town. I don't 
 see why Mr. Pemberton lives off there at land's end ! " 
 
 Then Jack started to mount the long brown steps, 
 not knowing how to refuse, and on the whole quite 
 willing to carry out the adventure of the day. Liddy 
 took his arm. 
 
 " Course you're coming right in I " Liddy urged, wink 
 ing at Stella. 
 
 Down the street, several doors away, a cab had driven 
 up, and from it emerged the man they had seen with the
 
 THE REAL WORLD 185 
 
 Jewess in the restaurant, and after him the woman her 
 self. His silk hat was tipped forward on his head, and 
 he looked stupidly at the cabman, then at the woman. 
 His companion seized his arm and thrust her hand into 
 his watch pocket, taking thence some bills, one of which 
 she handed to the driver. The man laughed foolishly ; 
 the couple turned to mount the steps. 
 
 A sudden wave of contempt, of instinctive repugnance 
 at the aspects of debauch, surged over Jack, who had 
 caught the scene at a glance. 
 
 " Good night," he exclaimed abruptly, and slid his arm 
 from Liddy's grasp. As he walked up the street toward 
 Broadway, he could easily hear the exclamations, and 
 then the laughter, of the two girls. 
 
 "He's too green anyway," was the last intelligible 
 remark that reached his ears, followed by a high-pitched 
 laugh. 
 
 He had gone but a few steps before he blamed himself 
 for his rough manner, and concluded that he ought to 
 have stayed and conducted Stella back to Harlem. But 
 the girls had entered the house, and in the uniform row 
 of brown steps he could not make out which house was 
 Liddy's lodging-place. So he continued his walk in the 
 soft April night, with a refreshing sense of relief from 
 the clatter of the two girls. 
 
 There was no very definite feeling of virtue in his 
 breast. Though he had seen enough vice in the New 
 England places where he had lived, vice of a dull, 
 animal kind that reeks in New England towns in spite 
 of conventional restraints, he had never touched the
 
 186 THE REAL WOULD 
 
 world at that spot. He did not have enough experience 
 to be priggish. As he thought of Stella, with her airs, 
 her gayety, her childish narrowness of the pavement- 
 bred, he liked her, and had it not been for Steve he 
 should have liked to see her again. That relation with 
 Steve filled him with a quick sense of shame. He did 
 not know how to behave with her. She was not Steve's 
 wife ; she was not his own sister ; she was not a girl to 
 be played with. And in Stella's nervous movements 
 about the Harlem flat there had been a certain extra 
 bravado, an air of saying, " I've no business here, I 
 suppose you're thinking. But I don't care what you 
 think, you prude ! " 
 
 It was the pitiful air of self-defence of the woman 
 used as an animal. It sickened him, and he had a vivid 
 sense of shame before the woman, as if he were observ 
 ing intimacies that he had no right to observe. Steve 
 was a fool and a brute. 
 
 As he walked up the deserted avenue, glad to walk in 
 the silent city, careless where he should sleep, he remem 
 bered Aunt Julia's tale of the Pemberton excesses, the 
 village debaucheries of many of his people. So this was 
 what it meant. The eternal itch for pleasure, for relief 
 from the burden of dull living, stung each generation. 
 The thought made him heavy-hearted. Late diners were 
 coming out of the fashionable restaurants on the avenue, 
 and entering the waiting carriages. This part of the 
 city was the great field where seethed, night after night, 
 the passion for pleasure. 
 
 Did Steve give way to the common craving in a desire
 
 THE REAL WORLD 187 
 
 to find something real, some experience that would bite 
 the consciousness either painfully or pleasantly ? Was 
 Steve tormented by the same longing he had had to 
 find the real, to escape the indifferent shades of mere 
 appearance ? 
 
 He wandered far into the morning hours, his pulses 
 beating hard against the moist skin of his neck and 
 hands, his brain tumultuous with longings and wonder. 
 He himself had not been far from Liddy's facile door ! 
 Pleasure, self-abandonment, the debauch, poor human 
 souls flung themselves upon that empty void, the ghostly 
 simulacrum of this our life, granted by God in pitiful 
 measure, flung themselves in inarticulate longing for 
 the world of reality, of which their dreams were but 
 the shadows on the curtain. 
 
 " Steve's just stepped out. Come in and make your 
 self easy." 
 
 Jack came in to wait for Steve. He reproached him 
 self for not having seen more of his brother, while he was 
 in New York. Stella was lolling by the window in a 
 rather dirty kimono and broken red slippers. Steve's 
 establishment was distinctly in undress this evening, 
 as if the occupants were recovering from some excessive 
 excitement. There was an odor of scent in the room 
 battling with the fumes of stale cocktails and tobacco. 
 Stella seemed heavy and lethargic. She tightened the 
 folds of her kimono and put her hands to her hair in an 
 endeavor to tidy the mass. 
 
 "You ran away the other evening," she remarked in
 
 188 THE REAL WORLD 
 
 petulant tones. " Didn't you like Liddy ? Most gentle 
 men think she's quite a peach. And she was awful cut 
 up by your acting that way. Don't you like girls ? " 
 
 " Yes," Jack answered slowly. " I guess I like girls." 
 
 " Well, Steve thought it was a fine joke he'll tease 
 you right well when he comes in. My, how hot it is ! 
 And only May. My head aches awful bad, back here," 
 she pointed to the exact spot. " Steve's gone to get 
 something to help it We've been out to the races all 
 day." 
 
 She wandered on, not caring for more response than 
 an interjection now and then. She poured out a cord 
 ial and handed a glass to Jack ; then she lit a cigarette, 
 and threw her head far back. The cordial and the 
 tobacco seemed to soothe her nerves for a few moments, 
 and carry her away in a dream. 
 
 "I guess," she mused, "you don't like girls like me 
 and Liddy. You think we're real wicked, don't you ? 
 But there's lots worse than us, and those that hold their 
 heads high and mighty, too." 
 
 " I don't think you are wicked," Jack replied stupidly, 
 "and I like you." 
 
 " You're sorry for me ? " she asked quickly, looking at 
 him. 
 
 " No, not exactly," he said honestly. 
 
 " Well," she threw herself back in the chair again with 
 a sigh, "I like you you're nice and refined, more'n 
 Steve. But you wouldn't have nothing to do with me!" 
 
 Her face expressed the doubt and wistfulness of the 
 flabby creature who touches a harder fibre than hers.
 
 THE REAL WORLD 189 
 
 u Let's not talk about it ! " Jack exclaimed. 
 
 " Why not ? I want to talk about it what's the diff, 
 anyway ? I'm not going to turn cry-baby now, you can 
 bet. When I was in trouble two years ago, I swore I'd 
 go straight, keep out of trouble ; but you know I guess 
 I don't want to be much different, anyway." 
 
 She went to the piano and began to play vehemently a 
 waltz of the Broadway pavement, until the perspiration 
 started from her temples. 
 
 " My ! my head aches. Why don't Steve come ! " She 
 wheeled around once more to face Jack. " Do you feel 
 sweet on that girl the one in the park you were with ? 
 I saw you the other morning." 
 
 Jack frowned, but in an instant his first impulse of 
 reticence seemed to him absurd, conventional. 
 
 " Yes, but she is to marry another man." 
 
 " Oh, well, a feller of your years don't want to be tied 
 up with a wife and children. You'd better come to New 
 York and see something of life that's what Steve wants 
 you to do." 
 
 The young man smiled at the irony of the idea. He 
 had lived a year or two in the few days that he had been 
 in New York, and he did not believe that Stella or Liddy 
 would give him more experience of life than he had al 
 ready won by following the ordinary path. Already the 
 habits of these people bored him. The cheap set nt, the 
 odor of liquor and cigarettes, the theatre, the flabby vo 
 luptuous woman's flesh, it was a vulgar little round, 
 less interesting than the shining prizes that Elsie panted 
 for. One and all they thirsted for thrills that were always
 
 190 THE BEAT. WORLD 
 
 denied in full measure something told him that always 
 would be denied, let the human nerves throb as they 
 might. 
 
 " I may come to New York some day/' he admitted. 
 " Play me something." 
 
 She played a sentimental song about a woman and her 
 child, and sang the refrain in the vaudeville twang. Her 
 face responded to the empty sentiment of the song. 
 
 " Say," she broke in, looking up at him with the dumb 
 appeal of the burdened animal, " do you think the folks 
 that are good I mean really good, no seeming are 
 happy, any happier than we are ? " 
 
 "I don't know," he answered sadly. "I suppose so 
 they wouldn't struggle so " 
 
 " If I had married a feller, good to me, like you could 
 be ! I like babies, most girls don't, but I like babies ! " 
 And she repeated the phrase until it sounded shrill and 
 foolish : " I like babies, yes, I like babies." 
 
 Then Steve came in, boisterous, with the swagger and 
 assurance of recovered health, and inclined to tease his 
 brother. But Stella, whose sentimental mood remained, 
 put a period to Steve's attacks ; and they sat about the 
 stuffy flat, at a loss for topics of common interest for 
 conversation, exchanging desultory remarks about the 
 races, the weather, and the properties of mized drink. 
 Finally it came time for Jack to leave, in order to take 
 the train for Boston. While Steve hunted for his hat, 
 Stella and Jack had a few words together. 
 
 " I hope I shall see you the next time I come," Jack 
 said quite honestly.
 
 THE REAL WORLD 191 
 
 "As like as not you'll not" Stella replied glumly, 
 "unless you come mighty quick." Then, to explain, 
 she added, "Steve ain't the man to care long for any 
 thing, not even a dog." 
 
 " I'm glad I did see you," Jack said awkwardly. 
 
 "Are you? So'm I real glad," and they shook 
 hands with smiles. 
 
 Yet he thought that it would be a relief to her to have 
 him gone, to be able to sink back in the crease of habit 
 without useless longings and unaccustomed ideas. As 
 for himself, he was genuinely attracted by her, feeling 
 beneath her boisterous vulgarity the simple humanity 
 so often missed in more complex souls. 
 
 On the street Steve asked abruptly : 
 
 "What are you going to do when you're done with 
 college ? " 
 
 "Law." 
 
 "When you're fifty, maybe you can buy yourself a 
 cigar on Sundays, unless you're sharper than you 
 look," the older brother remarked sententiously. "I 
 know a dozen lawyers who can't skin twenty dollars a 
 week." 
 
 "You say mother is poorly," Jack remarked to lead 
 the conversation back to common grounds. 
 
 " She and Mary don't like Coffin's Falls. I guess 
 Uncle Talbot is tired of having them around. He wrote 
 me a long preachy letter about giving them a home. 
 They don't know up in Coffin's Falls what it costs to 
 live on a salary. I was making money before last 
 January, but I went and blew it in wrong on the market,
 
 192 THE BBAL WOELD 
 
 and some that wasn't mine, and the end was I had to 
 take this job with Bradshaw & Gushing. And there are 
 no extras there ! " 
 
 "Perhaps we could manage it, together," Jack sug 
 gested doubtfully. 
 
 " Oh ! later," Steve assented vaguely. 
 
 The occupants of the close little flats in the neighbor 
 hood were thronging the street through which they were 
 passing to the Harlem station. Many of the women, 
 Jack judged, were like Stella, tenants at will in some 
 irregular establishment. They had an American stylish 
 ness, a certain gloss that made them out finer than they 
 were. Oppressed by the unseasonable heat, they were 
 sauntering to and fro in couples, throwing curious li 
 censed glances about at the other promenaders, especially 
 at the two men who passed in solitary distinction. 
 
 " Why don't you marry, Steve ? " Jack asked after a 
 period of silence. 
 
 " What do I want of a woman tied with a halter to my 
 neck!" Steve retorted irritably, and added a popular 
 economic apothegm. 
 
 " I mean marry Stella," his brother continued. 
 
 "What!" Steve ejaculated, stopping short in his 
 amazement. "You're more of a jackass than I thought 
 you were." 
 
 " She's a pretty good girl," Jack continued imperturb- 
 ably. " I think she would like to be married, and and 
 live differently." 
 
 " I rather guess she would 1 " Steve chuckled. "What 
 do you take me for ? "
 
 THE HEAL WOULD 193 
 
 " It seems hard," Jack explained, with infinite trouble 
 in expressing himself before this scorn. "They she 
 and Liddy, have the look of whipped dogs, really and 
 she would be happy more than you or I know if she 
 were married to a man who would be a bit kind to her 
 poor girl ! " 
 
 "Is that what you learn at Harvard?" Steve de 
 manded ironically. 
 
 "No," Jack replied simply, with the conviction that 
 he was a fool. " It just occurred to me, seeing her there 
 with you." 
 
 "It's time you saw something of the world," Steve 
 commented patronizingly. " You're too green." 
 
 They shook hands at the foot of the stairs that led to 
 the station. From the elevated platform Jack watched 
 the streaming lines of men and women, moving restlessly 
 up and down the streets for the sake of air and excite 
 ment. The great city lay undulating like the sheen of 
 a rich garment, with the spangles of its enormous build 
 ings, flowing over valley and height, outlined by the 
 piercing dots of light from the arc-lamps. Men and 
 women, seekers for pleasure, toilers for pleasure, 
 a multitude of hearts longing for the visions that denied 
 themselves . . . 
 
 And in the strange, tidal motion of man's soul, there 
 flooded into his crowded thoughts this one vague concep 
 tion, that to possess the ultimate vision of things he 
 must forego the alleviations to pain proffered by his clam 
 orous senses. Steve and Stella and Liddy Mather and 
 Elsie and Bushy and the countless other thousands of
 
 194 THE BBAL WORLD 
 
 their kind played with the phantoms of a world, and 
 called it real. In one embrace or another they spent 
 their bodies and souls, and with each pang of the striv 
 ing nerves they lost the power to possess. And the 
 temptation his uncle and aunt had feared for him, the 
 brutal thirst of sex, seemed far away and impossible. 
 
 The rage that might spend itself thus in drops, 
 dammed and pent within, would some day create the 
 other world ! Beneath his sleepless head that night, the 
 car-wheels beat the burden of this new song : " Live and 
 love, and desire and deny, for in the end ye shall conquer 
 and know peace."
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 THE steamer poked its way cautiously up the tortuous 
 channel to the new wharf near the hotel. Jack stood 
 with Stevenson on the upper deck, beneath the pilot-house, 
 and in the rifts of the fog pointed out to his companion 
 the landmarks of Pemberton Neck. The new cottages, 
 which thrust their unfamiliar roofs through the dark firs, 
 were much larger than the old, weather-stained ones. 
 
 " Grow'd consider'ble," the old pilot remarked, leaning 
 sociably out of his window. " There's the latest addition 
 
 that palace there atop of High Head, round Maxwell 
 Point. They say the road up there over the Point cost 
 more'n fifty thousand dollars, and the stables them's 
 the roofs you see be as good as a hotel. That Gushing 
 
 you remember him, the feller that owned the Eyrie 
 built it, begun two years ago in September. They say 
 he's worth a number of millions made it in steel." 
 
 " So that's the Gushing place ! " Jack exclaimed, follow 
 ing the irregular outline of roofs with an interested eye. 
 
 " Yes, sir," the pilot resumed. " And there ain't a more 
 costly house on the shore. Pemberton Neck's looking up 
 Bar Harbor'll have to hustle to keep in the procession 
 soon ! And it weren't much of a place before Gushing 
 began his house. There are them up here who don't look 
 kindly on rich fellers coming in with their horses and ker- 
 
 195
 
 196 THE BEAL WORLD 
 
 ridges, raisin' the prices of their dod-blasted old stone 
 quarries. Your Uncle John's one of them kind ! But I 
 guess your cousin feels different he made a fortune." 
 
 According to the pilot's account, the majority of the 
 natives regarded Edward Price Gushing as a philanthro 
 pist, who had turned a part of the golden stream which 
 had been fertilizing Mt. Desert, Newport, and other well- 
 known spots to their deserving village. No matter what 
 his associates might have to say about the unscrupulous- 
 ness of the steel and iron manufacturer, no matter how 
 frequent or how bitter were the strikes in his Ohio mills, 
 the progressive residents of Pemberton Neck honored the 
 owner of High Head. The reactionaries, such as Uncle 
 John, had only feeble and vague arguments with which 
 to combat the potent testimony of dollars scattered loosely 
 over the country. 
 
 " Your Uncle John," explained the pilot, " undertakes to 
 tell how folks would be better off without sellin' their 
 land, just scratchin' round on it as their fathers did. He 
 says it costs more to live, and it don't make no differ 
 ence how much you pour into the barrel so long as you 
 draw out jest as much. But your Uncle John ain't sold 
 his farm yet ! " 
 
 " Seems to be the same old row between the two schools 
 of political economy," Stevenson observed. 
 
 " And you take sides according to the same old law," 
 his companion added. 
 
 The boat backed into the dock, which was crowded with 
 smart traps with men in livery. 
 
 The hotel, whither Jack conducted Stevenson, was
 
 THE REAL WORLD 197 
 
 scarcely recognizable ; it had taken to itself various gawky 
 children in the shape of wings, and it was surrounded by 
 a further offspring of cottages. Yet the broad verandas, 
 where, as Jack remembered, the young men and women 
 tramped and flirted while the mammas sat in innumer 
 able wicker chairs, seemed deserted and forlorn. Pem- 
 berton Neck had advanced beyond the rank of a hotel 
 resort. 
 
 In the evening, when Jack walked over to his uncle's 
 farm, the road among the black firs was brilliant with 
 electric lights. There were cement walks and hydrants, 
 pipes and drains, and macadamized road-beds. From, the 
 main road there branched a multitude of unfamiliar ave 
 nues leading to the new cottages. Victorias rolled past 
 him, their harnesses jangling, two men on the box. 
 Fashion was exploiting Pemberton Neck with its usual 
 vivacity. 
 
 Beyond the Neck there were fewer changes, although 
 some of the late comers had been squeezed out of the 
 Point up the Cove. The little white cottage, with its 
 border of open fields, was as he knew it. Uncle John was 
 dozing, his slippers off beside the base-burner, and Aunt 
 Julia was reading the Bangor Times. They seemed 
 scarcely more immovable than six years before. 
 
 " John said you'd come by train same as most of the 
 summer folks, but I thought you'd take the boat. How 
 be you, Jock ? " his aunt asked placidly, as if he had 
 been away a week. 
 
 " Seed the improvements ? " his uncle asked. " Your 
 cousin's sold his hotel."
 
 198 THE REAL WORLD 
 
 "And the feller that took it has mortgaged it. Hotels 
 don't pay ! " his aunt added. 
 
 Jack smiled. This was their acknowledgment that 
 they had been wrong in urging him to stick to Cousin 
 Hadley's hotel. 
 
 " So you're a full-fledged lawyer ? " Uncle John asked, 
 turning his wizened head with its wagging beard nearer 
 the light. 
 
 They did not ask him effusively about his plans. They 
 were waiting. His good clothes, his general air of pros 
 perity, evidently pleased them. Secretly they were proud 
 enough, and Jack knew it. Nothing is so glorious to the 
 New England farmer as the legal profession. Promptly 
 at nine the old man gathered up his slippers and hobbled 
 to bed. Aunt Julia stayed to talk. 
 
 " There be lots of new cottages, Jock," she remarked, 
 after a period of silence. " The roads are most too full 
 of bosses and kerridges in summer, but I like to see 'em 
 go by the house. Land's higher'n ever. We got an 
 offer last winter, and I wanted to take it and move over 
 to Rockland, but your uncle is sot on stayin' on the 
 farm. Would you be thinking of coming here to settle, 
 some time ? There's a lawyer at the Cove now, and he 
 ain't much of a lawyer, I guess, but he makes a good 
 living." 
 
 Jack shook his head. 
 
 " I am going to New York in September." 
 
 The old lady sighed, but looked at him with an approv 
 ing smile. 
 
 " What put you up to that ? "
 
 THE REAL WORLD 199 
 
 "I have meant to for a long time," Jack answered 
 simply. " And now I've got an opening in a good office. 
 It will be hard work to live and send mother something, 
 and I could get more out West with Stevenson. He 
 wants me to go in with him in Mound City form a 
 partnership. But I have always thought of going to 
 New York ever since I thought much about those 
 matters." 
 
 "Sot as you allus was," his aunt remarked, not un 
 graciously. " Seems to me I should go West." 
 
 " New York is the biggest pool," Jack observed, with 
 an air of finality. 
 
 Then Aunt Julia started a new topic. 
 
 " You remember, of course, that Mason girl ? " 
 
 Jack nodded, suddenly eager for news about Elsie 
 even from Aunt Julia. 
 
 " They've built that great place over yonder." 
 
 " So the pilot told me. It's huge ! " 
 
 " She's a real nice girl, Jock. I ain't surprised you were 
 sweet on her. I see her now once in a while. She comes 
 to call. My ! Ain't she a talker, chatter, chatter, and 
 amusin' as the day is long ! She allus asks for you, what 
 we've heard from you, though I guess she knows 'bout 
 as much as we do. She was up here yestiddy, after some 
 sweet peas for a party, and I told her we were expectin' 
 of you some time this month." 
 
 Aunt Julia paused there, and Jack was forced to ask : 
 
 "And what did she say ? " 
 
 " She grew kind of dumb, and then she said she s'posed 
 you'd let her know when you got here."
 
 200 THE REAL WORLD 
 
 As Jack made no observation, Aunt Julia added in her 
 meditative drawl: 
 
 " I doan't make as much as some o' the man she mar 
 ried, with all his money. A taller-complected feller 
 with a sour temper, I take him to be, and I guess she has 
 to pay high 'nugh for her house and kerridges." 
 
 "Probably." 
 
 " Well, she's gay and light-hearted as they make 'em. 
 She keeps the place full of folks, a lot of men dangling 
 about, and she's free and easy with 'em all, same as she 
 used to be. I guess she'll allus be cheerful, no matter 
 what comes, and that's the best way a woman can take a 
 husband, be he good or bad." 
 
 As they started for bed, Aunt Julia asked with a little 
 note of trepidation in her voice : 
 
 " There ain't been any gurls, Jock ? " 
 
 He smiled and shook his head. 
 
 "I shouldn't wonder, Jock, that you'd be the one 
 Pemberton to get safe over the divide. They're clever 
 enough, all your family, but they're dreadful weak." 
 
 Jack smiled more sadly. 
 
 "I don't think it'll take me that way ! " 
 
 Neither the next day nor the next thereafter did Jack 
 call at the Cushings' or let Elsie know of his arrival. 
 Instead) he sailed Stevenson about the bay, or loitered 
 around the little cottage, discussing with Uncle John 
 the strike in the Green Hill quarries. He avoided the 
 dusty electric-lighted roads, but one evening, as he was 
 returning from the hotel where he had left Stevenson, 
 Mrs. Gushing passed him in a light buckboard. He had
 
 THE REAL WORLD 201 
 
 almost said, "Elsie," she passed so close to him, talking 
 with the groom, but he repressed the name and looked at 
 her, hurriedly seizing all that he could from the moment. 
 She had grown enough stouter to give her a woman's 
 presence. Her features were fuller, but she retained her 
 rare girlish coloring. Her heavily embroidered gray 
 gown and her erect position lent her an air of stiffness, 
 of propriety, that was new. She talked to the groom in 
 the voice of the competent mistress. Elsie was now a 
 woman ! 
 
 Many a time they had driven down this road in the 
 autumn twilight, and she had chattered of the future. 
 He wondered if she were now content with what she 
 had accomplished. The next afternoon, when the shadows 
 began to lie broad and cool over the upper harbor road, 
 he walked to Maxwell Point. The county road had been 
 altered to suit the transformation of High Head. As he 
 entered the winding drive which had aroused the pilot's 
 admiration, he remembered that somewhere near by he 
 had been cutting balsam boughs when Elsie Mason had 
 pulled up her horse and joined him. At one of the turns 
 in the road, he sat down to watch the harbor quiet at 
 this mid-afternoon hour. The balsam scent was pungent 
 about him, and a large blackberry vine ran riotously over 
 the ledge that had been blasted for the drive. The hardy 
 growth of the coast was doing its best to cover up the 
 scars made by the strangers. 
 
 A rattling cart came down the drive from the cot 
 tage above. The spokes and the felloes sang a discord 
 ant tune to the accompaniment of hoof-beats. A thin
 
 202 THE HEAL WORLD 
 
 woman, one of the " natives," was driving the old white 
 horse, and holding a child in her lap. Another child 
 was asleep in an empty berry crate. As the white horse 
 deliberately halted at the turn in the road, Jack rose, 
 and recognizing the woman, bowed. 
 
 " It ain't you, Mr. Pemberton ! " the woman exclaimed, 
 a streak of color staining her white cheeks. 
 
 " Yes, no one else, Ruth," Jack answered, holding out 
 his hand. 
 
 Ruth pulled up the hard-bitted old horse and put out 
 a long, thin hand from her shawl. Jack felt the bones 
 as he took the hand 'in his, such a feeble hand ! 
 
 " How are you ? " he asked. 
 
 " Not so good, this summer," she answered querulously. 
 " You've grown you're goin' to be a big man, Jack." 
 
 She blushed at the hardihood of her remark. And 
 with the color a trace of the old sweet-pea bloom 
 returned, effacing the brutal ravages of her laborious 
 life. 
 
 "You're married, my aunt tells me," Jack said, to 
 make conversation. 
 
 " Yes," Ruth answered, the flush coming back. " Been 
 married most three years. Them's the children." 
 
 Her eyes looked down vacantly at the babies, who 
 stared at the stranger. 
 
 " It ain't been easy," she volunteered. " If 'tweren't 
 for the berries and the chickens, I dunno how we'd get 
 along. I been up to the Cushings' with berries and eggs. 
 They take all I have." 
 
 Jack patted the head of the child in the crate.
 
 THE REAL WORLD 203 
 
 "How've you been?" Kuth asked more boldly. "I 
 heard you were a scholar goin' to preach ? " 
 
 " No," Jack laughed, " I guess not." 
 
 And as he found nothing more to say, he asked her 
 where she lived. 
 
 " Out on the Bluefields Road. I'd be real pleased to 
 see you ; my husband, too." 
 
 Jack shook hands and turned to go. The woman's wan 
 face, the aspect of the last effort in her struggle, was in 
 tolerable. Ruth spoke to the horse, who with due 
 deliberation started, and the spokes rattled once more 
 with increasing fury as the old cart gathered speed. 
 Jack strode on up the drive, Ruth's haggard face in his 
 eyes. The poor girl had married, craving the solace of 
 her kind, and her pitiful rushlight of life was snuffing 
 out. She would leave these two babies, to repeat her 
 slight bloom, her longings. . . . 
 
 The Cushings' stable was placed among the fir trees 
 on the hillside below the house. He saw a groom walk 
 ing two saddle horses up and down before the stable. 
 Otherwise the house and the stable were deserted. The 
 broad veranda displayed the dainty disorder of occu 
 pancy ; a novel had fallen open beside a chair, as if 
 thoughtlessly dropped from ennui. It was a long time 
 before there was any answer to his ring. The house 
 seemed asleep at this early hour. Finally a maid 
 scurried across the hall, and in response to his demand 
 for Mrs. Gushing, pointed to a room leading from the 
 hall, and disappeared, as if unaccustomed to this kind of 
 service.
 
 204 THE KBAL WORLD 
 
 Jack entered the spacious drawing-room, through 
 whose long windows the shore breeze was drawing lazily. 
 It was deserted like the rest of the mansion, and he 
 walked slowly down its great length. Elsie had found 
 here her " room to turn around in." The large house, the 
 spacious elegance of the whole place, reflected her ambi 
 tion. Jack flung himself down before an open window 
 and mused in the solitude of the great room. She must 
 have changed three years with Gushing, three years 
 with all the power of his money; it would be impossi 
 ble for her to keep that soft impressionability of child 
 hood, that dance of emotion which he loved. She would 
 have beaten him again in the race of experience. After 
 a time he grew restless ; the long, silent room oppressed 
 him. He walked about, looking at the books, touching 
 the bric-a-brac on the tables, his footsteps muffled in the 
 heavy rugs. At the end of the drawing-room a passage 
 way, concealed by a half-drawn portiere, led on to another 
 large room, which, from its bare furnishings, he judged 
 was used as a music room. It formed a wing of the 
 house to the north, under the shelter of the firs, and a 
 small door opened directly out of the room to the hill 
 side. Shades were drawn over the small windows, cre 
 ating a pleasant dusk. As Jack stood in the doorway, 
 he was conscious that some one was in the room, with 
 that subtle intimation that body gives to body. At the 
 extreme end there was a kind of recess, circled with tiny 
 leaded-glass windows. A grand piano cut off this part 
 of the room, and its raised cover formed a kind of screen 
 between him and the window.
 
 THE REAL WORLD 205 
 
 He moved down the room noiselessly. Then he stopped 
 and coughed, but as no one appeared he walked on again, 
 looking for the people he felt sure were there. He was 
 not mistaken. Within the recess on a bench beneath the 
 window Elsie was seated with a man, as though she had 
 just moved from the piano. She was looking at the man 
 with a peculiarly direct, feverish glance, the look that a 
 woman gives when a long-expected crisis has come ; when 
 all is known, and she looks into the dark, hidden soul of 
 her neighbor to seek even more. The man's arm rested 
 on the casement ; his hand was on a level with her neck, 
 and very close to it, as if at the moment withdrawn from 
 touching the soft curves of her chin. The instant of 
 revelation, of intimacy, froze Jack to the spot where he 
 stood. He seemed to read many secret pages and 
 then, finally, Elsie's eyes dropped, wandered, swept past 
 the screen of the piano, and rested on Jack. She started, 
 dropping from her hands some trinket. The object hit 
 the floor with a sharp click and rolled beneath the piano. 
 Thereupon the man turned his head, and straightened 
 himself lazily into a more conventional position. Jack 
 knew the face, though he had not seen it for a good many 
 years. 
 
 He was much the most embarrassed of the three. 
 Elsie was herself once more, and hurrying forward held 
 out her hand with the frank cordiality of old days. 
 
 "Jack, Jack! And you never let me know! Why, 
 I've been in a rage to see you, and I'll bet you have been 
 here a week without letting me know, without coming 
 here, first, and last, and all the time. Is there some one
 
 206 THE REAL WORLD 
 
 else in the Neck, Jack ? Some other girl in some other 
 cottage ? Roger," she summoned her companion impe 
 riously. " You remember Mr. Pemberton ? " 
 
 Mather rose in a negligent, bored manner. He was in 
 riding costume ; the white trousers and lacquered boots 
 had the pleasant affectation of an aristocratic amusement 
 of other days. When Elsie drew his attention to Jack, 
 he nodded indifferently and sat down at the piano, wait 
 ing for the interrupting episode to conclude. Elsie 
 moved about restlessly, talking in impetuous, incomplete 
 phrases. 
 
 "Come over here! Sit there," she ordered. "No, 
 there ! Turn your head and let me look at you," 
 
 She pulled up a low divan and sat very close to him, 
 leaning forward, looking into his face, her lips parted in 
 a happy smile, as if she would drink in the answers to 
 her volley of questions. 
 
 " Yes, yes, go on, go on. I want to hear all about 
 every last thing. Stop thumping that piano, Roger ! " 
 
 But Jack, still under the impression of that revealing 
 moment, and constrained Ly the presence of Mather, who 
 sauntered up and down the room, examining nothings 
 with a detached air, biding his time, humoring the 
 woman, was more dumb than ever. There was so little 
 to tell : he had merely lived and worked, worked hard. 
 He stated baldly the leading facts, that he was to enter 
 a law firm in New York, that he had persuaded his 
 friend, Stevenson, to spend a few weeks at the Neck. 
 Then he talked about Stevenson. "And you?" he 
 ended.
 
 THE REAL WORLD 207 
 
 " It will take hours ! You will lunch with me, and I 
 will talk you blind. It will be so nice to go all over it 
 again, and tell you how I was presented, in London and 
 in Rome, how fine I looked, and what a lot of beaux I 
 had, and about Bushy in court dress. Oh ! Bushy was 
 great in court dress, wasn't he, Koger ? " 
 
 Mather had completed the circle of the room, and was 
 looking for something else to do. 
 
 "Why do you stand there like a stone!" Elsie ex 
 claimed, in a burst of annoyance. " Go into the drawing, 
 room and amuse yourself, or go home." 
 
 " I guess that's what I'll do," Mather drawled lazily. 
 " Good-by, Elsie. A ce soir." 
 
 He held out his hand to Jack, who rose and bowed in 
 a prim fashion.
 
 CHAPTER VIE 
 
 "JACK!" 
 
 She took his hands and held them tightly while he 
 waited in fear for the torrent of explanation and defence, 
 which he knew was inevitable. But she said nothing about 
 herself after all, and dropping his hands began to talk 
 indifferently about Pemberton Neck, and the house, 
 which seemed to have lost already some of the lustre 
 of the new toy. She discussed the architect's ideas, 
 cleverly using the proper vocabulary, evidently bored. 
 Then she came back to him, his plans and hopes, and 
 was reanimated for a moment only to wander off to a 
 new field. And to avoid the inevitable topic he talked 
 of himself, of his little triumphs in the steadfast plod 
 ding of the road. 
 
 But they were ill at ease, and at every corner of their 
 talk they met the same idea. In one of the awkward 
 pauses he saw that her eyes were full of tears. 
 
 " You think I am too low for blame ! " she exclaimed 
 impetuously. " You can't be angry." 
 
 " Don't say that, Elsie," he protested, at a loss what to 
 say, touched by the feeling that she still cared for his 
 opinion. " I wish I wish I hadn't been there, hadn't 
 seen, that is all," he faltered. 
 
 208
 
 THE REAL WORLD 209 
 
 Her eyes flamed out at this, as if he had made an accu 
 sation. 
 
 " What have you seen ? Don't imagine more than you 
 have a right to! A woman has her friendships, even 
 when she is married, and when a man has a tendresse " 
 
 But she stopped. His steady eyes rather shamed her 
 subterfuges. As he made no reply, she burst out again : 
 
 " What am I, Jack ? Tell me, won't you, what I am ! 
 I can't see. I have gone on from one step to another 
 I have lost the way. Oh ! I wish I had been dead before 
 you could despise me." 
 
 " I don't despise you, Elsie." 
 
 "You should, then. I haven't had the sand to play 
 the game according to the rules. I was no fool when I 
 married. I knew Bushy well, the good and the bad, and I 
 took him deliberately, after considering it all for months. 
 I said that was what I wanted, didn't I, Jack ? there in 
 the Park when I told you of my engagement? And I 
 meant to be a good wife, to play fair " 
 
 " You have," he affirmed, trying to stem the tempest. 
 
 " What's the use of your saying so ! " Her voice grew 
 hard and calmer, as she proceeded with the cynical analy 
 sis. " I've always said that the women who flirted, squeezed 
 hands in corners, let men kiss their hands, then their arms, 
 then anything except, except the last thing, were a 
 mean lot. It would be better to go the whole way, to be 
 honest to some one. But that's what I have done, after 
 all said no, and taken a bite; said no again and taken a 
 larger bite. What do you think of me ? I am not alone 
 there are hundreds and hundreds in my crowd, just like 
 
 T
 
 210 THE REAL WORLD 
 
 that, or worse, and the world wags on so long as we 
 kiss in corners ! " 
 
 She could see from the man's white face that she was 
 wounding him more than herself. But the desire to tear, 
 even his heart, to make the man's soul bleed, overmas 
 tered her. He leaned against the casement, drumming 
 mechanically on the little panes, wondering that she 
 could make them both so futilely wretched. 
 
 " But no one understands what it has been," she went 
 on, softening to herself. " My life is horrid, horrid. He 
 doesn't care what I do, so long as I keep within the 
 limits of our crowd. He would drive a woman to any 
 thing." 
 
 " Don't speak of him, Elsie ! " Jack exclaimed irrita 
 bly. " It's pretty cheap to hunt for excuses, isn't it ? " 
 
 " I will, I will, I will," she cried angrily. " Do you 
 suppose a woman would do even that, if she had any 
 thing to live for ? If I had a husband who was more 
 than a block of wood, without ideas, without feelings, 
 without fine ambitions a man who will make money, 
 money, money, lives in money, and would squeeze the life 
 out of a friend for his money. He's proud of nothing 
 but the fact that he's been trickier than the next man. 
 Yes, I know what you are going to say ; that's what I 
 wanted. And / make him spend it. I'll spend millions 
 before I am done, everything he has. I'll ruin him, 
 Jack. I'll ruin him that would be some fun. He 
 would feel that." 
 
 " Stop this, Elsie ! " Jack ordered. "If you keep on 
 it's useless. I am going."
 
 THE REAL WORLD 211 
 
 "Don't go yet! Don't leave me now! If you care 
 the least bit, wait, Jack. I'll I'll be decent. Just let 
 me talk it out. I haven't in four years really, I haven't, 
 not to a soul, not to my mother, not to him. Be patient 
 a bit, Jack." 
 
 "It's only that it will make it harder for you later on," 
 he responded in a dead tone. 
 
 "Oh, no. It's better already. It's outside of me 
 now. And I don't want you to think that I haven't done 
 my share, that I haven't tried to make his marriage worth 
 while. His own friends will tell you that. I have made 
 his house something more than a rich man's eating and 
 sleeping place. I have brought to the house people 
 worth knowing, clever people, influential people, dis 
 tinguished men. He wants to be ambassador. Bushy 
 wants to be ambassador ! " 
 
 She laughed, and Jack joined in, relieved by this note 
 of former gayety. 
 
 "Well, I think he will be ambassador, and he'll have 
 me to thank if he's sent to Spain next spring." 
 
 " You will make a stunning ambassadress, Elsie." 
 
 " Oh ! yes," she smiled. " I can do most things when 
 I try and he will think it's all his power, his money, 
 and position. Mr. E. P. Gushing is not a generous man, 
 even to his wife." 
 
 " But, Elsie," he protested. " After all, you've got " 
 
 " What I bargained for, Mr. Lawyer. That's a pretty 
 mechanical view, brother ! Can a woman ever make an 
 absolute contract? Does a contract hold in law when 
 you've bargained to deliver something you can't ?"
 
 212 THE REAL WORLD 
 
 'Yes," he answered, with a smile. "You pay the 
 forfeit." 
 
 "Well, I'm paying." 
 
 " That is what I want to be sure of." 
 
 " You think I am disloyal ? " she flamed forth 
 again. 
 
 " Not until you tell me with your own lips, which you 
 won't, you can't ! " he said, almost pleadingly. He had 
 turned toward the door, but she stopped him, laying her 
 hand affectionately on his arm. 
 
 " Don't go. Listen. Stay a moment. Listen." 
 
 She looked into his eyes with the old appeal, the honest, 
 frank look of the untrained woman. There rose before 
 him the vision of that other woman he had dreamed into 
 being years before on the slopes of Green Hill. She had 
 pleaded with the same tender, defeated, despairing eyes. 
 And for that moment she was the more real, the living 
 creature, and this clogged soul beating next him, a 
 weaker, vaguer shadow. . . . 
 
 " Listen ! I want to play fair. I want to live it out, 
 to keep the contract, not just before the world, but really, 
 absolutely, to the last dot of the last letter. To-day you 
 saw the, the " 
 
 " Don't say it, Elsie. I have seen nothing. You were 
 only looking into the gulf that's all." 
 
 " Yes, listen. He kissed me ; I let him ; I didn't try to 
 avoid it. He'd wanted to lots of times other men, too ; 
 I've always run away until then. But I thought, what's 
 the use ? What is so awful in it ? I wanted to be kissed, 
 to be loved a little that way. I am honest, Jack. No,
 
 THE REAL WORLD 213 
 
 listen ! It was the first time, upon my honor upon your 
 honor, Jack." 
 
 He listened without trying to calm her or to escape. In 
 voluntarily he crushed her hands in his grip until a wave 
 of pain shot across her mobile face. 
 
 " And now ? " he whispered. 
 
 " God knows. Tell me what will happen." 
 
 He dropped her hands and laughed contemptuously. 
 
 " You know better than I, I guess. Either you stay, 
 and are a liar and a coward, or you go, and are " 
 
 " A liar and a sneak," she filled in. " Is there noth 
 ing else ? " 
 
 " Do you really care for Mm f" 
 , She paused, and then answered deliberately. 
 
 " I don't know. It might have been some other one, I 
 suppose, with with the same conditions." 
 
 He laughed as he had before, with a loud, unnatural 
 sound that struck his own ears disagreeably. 
 
 "I think I'd make up my mind on that point first. 
 You wouldn't want to have to try again." 
 
 She closed her eyes. 
 
 " Oh ! you couldn't have said that before ! Would you 
 care very much, now ? " 
 
 " More than you, I think." 
 
 She shivered, and held out her hands impulsively. 
 
 " Help me ! Believe in me a little longer, trust me. 
 You did care ! If I promise, if I go back do you think 
 I am big enough ? " 
 
 She appealed to him for strength, for will, confident in 
 his power, with an instinctive grasp of his nature, know-
 
 214 THE REAL WORLD 
 
 ing that he measured things differently from herself, or 
 from those around her. She did not understand his life, 
 but she read it large, magnified it in her human need for 
 an ideal, for an unalterable will, a rocky purpose. And 
 he, with all the faith of youth in the same power of the 
 will, of the idea, of the resolve to conquer habit, passion, 
 inheritance, flesh and nature, all the giants with which 
 the spirit strives, felt that they two could make a prom 
 ise that would control her life. This conviction of their 
 spiritual power softened the hateful story, ennobled the 
 weakness and triviality to which the woman confessed. 
 So they stood, making this covenant as it were, looking 
 at each other trustingly, without speaking, for they had 
 spent their words on the sordid facts. At last she 
 whispered : 
 
 " Kemember, you said you would always care ! " 
 
 " Haven't I ! " he answered. 
 
 There were steps in the drawing-room. The afternoon 
 sun had left the casement windows, and the twilight was 
 filling the long music room. Mr. Cushing's voice could be 
 heard in the next room ordering a servant to light the fire, 
 they walked toward him slowly, both feeling that their 
 understanding was not quite complete, that more had to be 
 said. Mr. Gushing was in evening dress, and, as he turned 
 from the fireplace, he seemed to Jack whiter, stiffer, older, 
 than ever. He had the same cunning scowl between his 
 eyes, and the same ill-tempered droop to the lower lip. 
 
 " This is a pretty gloomy hole," he observed, not notic 
 ing Jack. " Where's Thompson ? I thought you were 
 out with Mather."
 
 THE REAL WORLD 215 
 
 " We returned some time ago," Elsie replied. " This is 
 Mr. Pemberton." 
 
 " How do ! " Gushing jerked out, holding forth a thin arm 
 to the young man. Then he added to his wife : 
 
 " You aren't going to dine in that rag, are you ? " 
 
 Elsie paid no attention to the remark, but turned to 
 Jack. 
 
 " You will stay to dinner ? " 
 
 " Not to-day, Elsie," he said quickly. " I have stayed 
 too long ! " 
 
 " Not a moment," she answered, but she did not urge him 
 to remain. She accompanied him down the long drawing- 
 room, where the servant was lighting the lamps and the 
 candles ; she kept close to his side, looking up into his 
 face, loath to have him go beyond her reach. When they 
 were alone in the hall, she detained him to say one thing 
 more. 
 
 " You'll come again very soon ? And, Jack, you don't 
 know half what it is. There are reasons I am bound, 
 hand and foot. But," she uttered the words with a 
 little gasp, "I think I shall never rebel again." 
 
 Then she fluttered away up the dark staircase, and at 
 the landing turned and waved her hand with a little of 
 her old buoyancy. The missing Thompson appeared and 
 opened the door with a flourish. As Jack stepped forth 
 on the gravel drive, something more than the mere dusk 
 of the evening blurred the landscape. The visions of his 
 youth had been rubbed and tarnished, and he walked heav 
 ily in the uncertain gloom of the night.
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 THE " Bluefields Eoad " crossed tlie coast hills behind 
 Pemberton Mills. It was a rough, rocky road, little fre 
 quented except by horseback riders. The Betts house 
 was one of those rain-washed, gray shanties standing in 
 the lush grass of an unkempt orchard to be found along 
 the back roads of New England. An ell of the house 
 had been torn down, and the timbers used for fire-wood. 
 The scar where the gable was torn off was visible from 
 the road. 
 
 The house with its orchard and meadow fields was in 
 a little pocket behind the hills, beyond the beautiful 
 coast. When Jack reached it one afternoon, the shadows 
 were already stealing over the fields from the dark firs, 
 and a cold dampness, like rank sweat, was rising from 
 the meadows. A lean unshaven young man with faded 
 eyes was smoking before the door. Jack recognized 
 him as one of the gawky older boys that used to loaf 
 about the Mills. In answer to Jack's greeting, he rose 
 from the broken kitchen chair by the door and slouched 
 down the path. 
 
 " Not many folks come this way," he observed wistfully, 
 "'cept they want somethin' berries or washin' or 
 chickens." 
 
 " I came to see you and Euth," Jack hastened to ex 
 plain. 
 
 216
 
 THE BBAL WORLD 217 
 
 " She's pretty bad to-day," Betts said dolefully, spitting 
 at an over-familiar chicken. " Jes' can't get around. I 
 dunno exactly what's the matter, why she 'pears so low. 
 No stuff does her much good." 
 
 The house, overrun with chickens who stalked proudly 
 in and out of the door, wore the same air of expected 
 misfortune that the man's remarks gave. 
 
 "I guess it's damp hereabouts," Betts suggested, spit 
 ting again. 
 
 When Jack asked to see Ruth, Betts led the way into 
 a darkened room where his wife was lying on a bed, a 
 dirty cotton comforter thrown over her figure. 
 
 " Jack ! " she cried, with delight and surprise. " Ezra, 
 how could you bring Mr. Pemberton into this messy 
 room ! " 
 
 "Don't get up," Jack urged, as Ruth raised herself, 
 revealing untidy masses of brown hair. " I wanted to see 
 you again before I went, and I may leave any time now. 
 So I walked across the woods this afternoon." 
 
 Goin' back to the city ? " Ruth asked wistfully. " I 
 was tellin' Ezra how you'd have a place on the Neck 
 some day." 
 
 Betts left them to fetch the cow from the pasture, and 
 when they were alone a sudden awkwardness made them 
 silent. 
 
 " I just hate to have you see this," she repeated, point 
 ing to the unkempt bed and the dirty child who was 
 playing on the floor. "You'll think we ain't no pride. 
 I guess we kind of giv' up ! It's too much, too 
 much 1 "
 
 218 THE REAL WORLD 
 
 She began to cry silently. 
 
 " It's hard not to be well and so much to do." 
 
 "I don't blame him. He's done the best he can, but 
 the children came, and he ain't the man to get on. And 
 then I'm no good most of the time. But he's real kind 
 to me never complains. We're just played out." 
 
 Any denial would have been palpably false. 
 
 "Yes," she insisted, with a clear conception of her 
 wasting life. " We're just used up. The worst of it is 
 the children ; they'll grow to do the same thing." 
 
 Then, with a feeling that she was putting forth her 
 miseries indelicately, she tried to talk about other mat 
 ters, the girls they had known at the hotel, the village 
 people, and the Neck. The luxury of this fashionable 
 life fascinated her, like the pictures of high life in the 
 story papers that came her way, or the florid paragraphs 
 about the extremely rich in the newspapers. She told 
 him the gossip of the doings at the Neck, the strange 
 tales that start from the back steps, the kitchen veran 
 das of cottages. 
 
 " You remember the picnic at the lake, and how those 
 ladies came in ? That Mis' Mather has been real kind 
 she stops in here most every week. I kind of thought 
 when I heard you outside it might be her. She and Mis' 
 Gushing are both real good. We heard that Mis' Mather 
 was goin' to marry Mi's' Cushing's brother, but it's been 
 a long time now, and nothin' seems to come of it." 
 
 When Jack undertook to leave, Euth begged him to 
 stay. 
 
 "I don't cal'late to see you agin. I like to talk to
 
 THE REAL WORLD 219 
 
 you you seem so strong and well and happy. And we 
 don't see much like that up here on the Bluefields Road." 
 
 So he lingered, and they talked about the same people 
 all over again. The air was musty and close, and Jack 
 insisted on building a fire in the big chimney. Then he 
 played with the little boy, who brought out the contents 
 of the wood-box for his inspection. 
 
 "It's him," Ruth murmured, looking at Jack mean 
 ingly, her weak white face ennobled for the moment by 
 insight. "It's him! He'll be like me, like his father, 
 or worse." 
 
 This was the ghost that haunted her dying the 
 sense of inevitable repetition of fate. The young man 
 started forward, moved beyond his habitual constraint 
 by pity for the forlorn being who was withering away. 
 
 " Don't worry, Ruth ! Something better will come ! " 
 
 "No, it can't! There's no use talking. Them that's 
 down in this world is down, and stays down unless a 
 miracle happens." 
 
 " No, no," he expostulated. " Something will open for 
 him. Don't worry over your babies. If I can, I will see 
 that they start fair. Yes, I can, I know I can, and I 
 will see that they start fair." 
 
 " Will you ! " she exclaimed doubtfully. 
 
 " Yes, I promise," he answered, the first vague impulse 
 of comforting the poor creature growing into a larger 
 determination. 
 
 Her face flushed with the old weak trustfulness, the 
 sweet-pea instinct to twist its tendrils about any firm 
 prop.
 
 220 THE HEAL WORLD 
 
 " It may not be much, but I'll do that little. Euth v 
 I'll help them to start fair," he repeated. 
 
 " That's real good," she sighed. " I always knew you 
 were kind, Jack." 
 
 She lay without speaking, exhausted by the unusual 
 emotion. In the next room Betts was preparing the 
 evening meal and talking to the baby. As Jack was 
 leaving the sick-room, some one came up the path from 
 the road. 
 
 " That's Mis' Mather," Euth whispered more animatedly, 
 and drew herself from the pillows, attempting to smooth 
 her hair. 
 
 Jack had not seen Miss Mather since the evening 
 when he had been with Stella and Liddy, and she had 
 so obviously overlooked him in the foyer of the theatre. 
 Now she bowed slightly to him and turned directly to 
 the sick woman. 
 
 " I am not going to stay," she explained, as Jack bade 
 Ruth good-by. 
 
 " It's kind of late for you to be goin' thro' them pines 
 alone," the sick woman observed. 
 
 " I will wait outside for you, if I may," Jack offered. 
 
 Miss Mather agreed to his proposal not very cordially. 
 
 Outside, the dark twilight line had crept from the fir 
 trees to the house. A streak of red across a fluffy cloud 
 betrayed the last gleam, of the sun, that was setting over 
 the bay in the more open land. Jack took the broken 
 chair beyond the sound of the voices inside and tilted it 
 against the gray shingles. Silence seemed to steal out of 
 the forest, to envelop the unkempt house like the mists of
 
 THE BBAL WORLD 221 
 
 evening, surrounding it with a vast desert of loneliness. 
 The sick woman within was struggling in this loneliness, 
 this abandonment to silence. As he thought of his 
 promise to her about her babies, he was strangely glad. 
 It was the happiest thought he had had for months. He 
 would see her once more and make the thing clearer 
 to her so that the peace of it would be fuller. There was 
 a subtle pleasure in the thought, strange in his isolated 
 life, that in all the dark perplexity, the numb touch that 
 the world gave, these helpless people offered the precious 
 warmth of humanity. 
 
 Miss Mather came from the house at last, pulling on 
 her gloves thoughtfully, and without speaking they 
 started up the road. He noticed that she was thin and 
 her face was worn, the muscles of the mouth quivering 
 now and then as if her apparent composure needed a 
 distinct tension of the will. She held herself erect and 
 walked well, with a little air of aloofness. Not every 
 transient wayfarer could get close enough to Isabelle 
 Mather to know what passed beneath the quivering face. 
 He wondered what had become of her engagement : he 
 had meant to ask Elsie. 
 
 "I am afraid she can't get to church again. I was 
 going to send the carriage to-morrow," Miss Mather re 
 marked at last. 
 
 The reflection seemed to Jack irritatingly trivial. 
 
 "What does she want to go to church for!" he 
 exclaimed harshly. " She's good enough for any world 
 that's better than this."
 
 222 THE REAL WOULD 
 
 " I didn't mean that. She sees people, you know. It's 
 about the last tie she has to society, and she's always 
 brighter afterwards." 
 
 " Oh ! " Jack responded, mollified. 
 
 "As long as she could sell berries, it was different. 
 She can't outlive the winter, I'm afraid." 
 
 " I hope not. It must be dreadful, the winter here." 
 
 "But her children," the woman protested softly. 
 "Every month of pain can be endured for them. Poor 
 thing ! " 
 
 " Yes, poor thing," he repeated bitterly without know 
 ing why. " Poor dumb thing ! " 
 
 Just ahead of them on the edge of a small hill a man 
 was splitting wood in front of a cottage. As he raised 
 his axe, which was caught in a block of wood, his large 
 muscular figure was outlined against the sky. Again 
 and again he raised the axe, swiftly, surely, revealing 
 the reach of his arm, the perfect working of his strong 
 body. The two walkers involuntarily stopped to watch 
 him. 
 
 " That is so great ! " Miss Mather murmured as to her 
 self. " That is power, force." 
 
 " And you like it ? " 
 
 " I love to see power more than anything in the world ! 
 Force, force ! " she repeated in rhythm to the axe. " Oh, 
 for more power, like that ! " 
 
 There was something spontaneous in her cry, as if the 
 secret of her pale face had slipped unconsciously from 
 her lips. There was no need to explain the reason of
 
 THE REAL WOULD 223 
 
 her long engagement. She had evidently learned the 
 central weakness of the man she loved. 
 
 " I had rather see the other thing repose," Jack re 
 joined. She closed her lips, and they started forward. 
 On the other side of the hill they caught sight of two 
 people on horseback, who had emerged from a cross-road. 
 
 " That must be Roger and Elsie/' Miss Mather ob 
 served, watching them plunge into the dark gulf of the 
 wooded road. " How she rides ! As she does everything 
 else, as though it were the only moment she had to 
 live." 
 
 " There's enough force for you," Jack said with spleen. 
 " And what comes of it ? " 
 
 " I should say a great deal : she makes many people 
 very happy." 
 
 " Is she happy ? " 
 
 "Why shouldn't you think so? I am sure no one 
 could say that she was unhappy." 
 
 Her cautious answers irritated him. She was always 
 on the right side of the fence. He resented her fine 
 breeding, her reserve. She must know Elsie's situation 
 a thousand times better than he did, in a way, but she 
 would be very careful not to let him know that she did. 
 
 "Most of us see very little of Elsie," Miss Mather 
 continued. " She's too busy to have intimates. She can 
 never give more than a quarter of a minute to any one, 
 but she makes you feel as if you were the only person in 
 the world for that quarter of a minute. She's the most 
 marvellous woman I know," she continued in tranquil 
 analysis. "Elsie does and says the most unpardonable
 
 224 THE REAL WORLD 
 
 things if it weren't Elsie. But it is Elsie, and you 
 forgive her. Some people can risk breaking a good many 
 commandments." 
 
 "Because she says in French what can't be said in 
 English, and rides like the devil, I suppose?" Jack 
 suggested truculently. 
 
 " Oh, no ! Lots of women in her set do that. Because 
 she makes you feel that she's the most important person 
 in the world. She's horribly egotistic and spoiled. Elsie 
 is a mere wonder ! And I think " she turned her grave 
 eyes to the man to impress upon him her words " Mr. 
 Gushing is an excellent husband for her." 
 
 " So that seems to you quite the ideal marriage ? " he 
 queried brusquely. 
 
 " And, pray, why not ? Elsie loves luxury and power." 
 
 Jack, thinking of the tall man's figure that was riding 
 ahead of them so close beside Elsie, retorted ironically : 
 
 "It's pretty hard to tell what any woman does love 
 most, isn't it ? " 
 
 Again Miss Mather's cool eyes studied the man's face, 
 as if she were wondering where to place him. After 
 some deliberation, she replied: 
 
 " I don't think you can give any general answer to that 
 question, do you ? " 
 
 The safe commonplace baffled Jack once more. He 
 had found out nothing about Elsie from this carefully 
 trained, self-possessed young woman, and he knew that 
 he had given a rather poor account of himself. On all 
 the rare occasions when he had been thrown with Miss 
 Mather, from the time when they met as children in the
 
 THE REAL WORLD 225 
 
 summer house, he had been at a disadvantage. She 
 seemed to possess a peculiar ability of showing him to 
 himself as crude, raw, and common in short, as one of 
 the people whom she did not ordinarily meet. They 
 walked more rapidly, anxious to finish this enforced 
 tgte-a-te'te. 
 
 "You will go to Elsie's ball Saturday, of course?" 
 Miss Mather asked idly to make conversation. 
 
 "I don't know," he answered shortly. "I might as 
 well begin my work at once, and balls won't be a part of 
 that." 
 
 The girl smiled. 
 
 " But if you want to see Elsie at her best, with all 
 her train, you should go to the ball. She's giving it for 
 the foreigners she has been entertaining. The German 
 ambassador will be there, and a lot of gay people are 
 coming to the Neck just for that. It will be the great 
 event of our season. You had better stay over for it," 
 she added, good naturedly, as though advising a boy to 
 behave himself. 
 
 Then she spoke of her brother Ned, who was the spoiled 
 child of the family. Nominally he was supposed to be in 
 a broker's office in New York, but having hurt his leg in 
 a polo match the year before he had had an excuse for 
 not confining himself to business. The General and she 
 were to return to the Kiverside home this fall and live 
 there permanently. She did not seem to regret giving up 
 the enjoyments of New York, and looked forward with 
 pleasure to the tranquil winter months in the old house 
 on the hill. As she talked, Jack realized the womanly 
 
 Q
 
 226 THE REAL WORLD 
 
 maturity which underlay her reserved manners. She 
 possessed, in contradistinction to Elsie, character, in the 
 usual sense of the term. Even her commonplaces were 
 significant of that, and, albeit unwillingly, his nature 
 responded to that element in hers. When they reached 
 General Mather's driveway, she extended her hand 
 cordially and said: 
 
 "I hope I have persuaded you about Saturday. I'm 
 sure it will do you good I mean you will have a good 
 time," she corrected swiftly, noticing Jack's smile. Then 
 with a rapid change of mood, she asked meaningly: 
 " Why aren't we Elsie's friends and mine as enter 
 taining as other women ? " 
 
 Jack noticed the sudden emphasis of her tone. He 
 remembered the servants' picnic, and the foyer of the 
 New York theatre when she had seen him with Stella 
 and Liddy. He blushed with embarrassment as he 
 answered : 
 
 " I suppose they are. I don't make any distinctions." 
 
 Indeed !
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 HE had waited for hours, standing by the open window 
 in the dark corner of the veranda, watching the people 
 eat and dance, and listening to the broken fragments 
 of talk that fell around him. Early in the evening 
 before the dancing had begun, Elsie had passed him in 
 the crush, leaning on the ambassador's arm, and had 
 stopped to give him a special welcome. 
 
 " Isabelle said you would come," she whispered with 
 a malicious little smile. "Been flirting with Isabelle? 
 She's in the music room, and wants to see you. Isabelle 
 is a good one to begin with, Jack. Don't keep company 
 with the stars ! " 
 
 He had been too dull to enter into her gay mood, that 
 sparkled like the stones in her brown hair. He had never 
 seen her so excited with the pleasant incense of success. 
 The black pupils of her eyes swam in a mist beneath the 
 dark fringe of lashes. Her mouth quivered in childlike 
 ripples of joy. She had kept the ambassador waiting 
 while she leaned confidentially toward him and laid her 
 hand affectionately on his arm. The skin of her arm, 
 he remembered, had a rose flush like the transparent 
 flesh of her temples. 
 
 " I want to see you again," he stammered. " I'm 
 going to-morrow."
 
 228 THE HEAL WORLD 
 
 " No, no, not to-morrow," she pleaded, all for him in 
 the moment that she stole from another. "After to 
 morrow we shall be very quiet, and we could have some 
 good times, the old times. Promise me you won't go to 
 morrow ? There are some matters, very important ones. 
 I want your help. Promise me you will wait." 
 
 He had stammered something, confused by the crowd, 
 and the curious eyes that were upon them both. Finally 
 he had said no, he could not stay on, and she had replied 
 hurriedly : " Very well, later to-night, after supper, there 
 will be time." 
 
 With a smile she had drawn back from the window, 
 and with a fresh smile and a word to her waiting escort 
 had swept into the vortex of people beyond his vision. 
 So he had staid on, for Elsie never forgot and never dis 
 appointed. It was less for the news she wanted to tell 
 him, some trivial thing, than for one more chance to 
 see the face he loved, alert and happy with success. He 
 watched her go out to supper with the ambassador, and 
 then return to the music room to dance with the French 
 attache, then with Eoger Mather, who, he was forced to 
 admit, was much the handsomest, most distinguished 
 young man in the room. Stevenson was dancing with 
 Miss Mather. Her face and dress struck him as colorless 
 and subdued among all the rich tints, the vivacious faces, 
 that surrounded her. She danced listlessly, wearily, and 
 Stevenson was soon dancing with another. He was to 
 take the early morning train, and was absorbing to the 
 full the last moments of his vacation. 
 
 Mr. Gushing came out upon the veranda to smoke,
 
 THE REAL WORLD 229 
 
 stalking back and forth behind Jack, now and then look- 
 ing at the dancers with an impassive, imperturbable air. 
 Others came to the cool, dark veranda to flirt for a fraction 
 of an hour. On the lips of all, in the corners, in the 
 smoking-room, among the casual lovers, Jack caught the 
 refrain of Elsie's triumph. 
 
 " It is Mrs. Gushing* s night." 
 
 " She keeps her baby looks." 
 
 "Those foreign chaps know a good American thing," 
 a man observed complacently in the smoking-room. 
 
 " She never spares herself," a young woman commented 
 enviously. "And she never shows it, not a line." 
 
 And once while he was following her with his devour 
 ing eyes, Miss Mather spoke to him. 
 
 " Worshipping too ? It was worth coming for, wasn't 
 it? You couldn't get a better frame for your goddess. 
 There are times when Elsie is not at ease, but she carries 
 everything with her here. I could just follow her about 
 and adore, as you have done all the evening. You see 
 she isn't for one, but for all." 
 
 Her tone had a little malice in it, as though she were 
 laughing at his rustic admiration. Yet he was glad to 
 see her, and when she made a place for him he sat down 
 beside her to talk. But his mind wandered from her to 
 the dancers, and when Elsie left the room he became 
 restless. 
 
 " You don't enjoy yourself," Miss Mather observed. 
 
 "You have to learn this thing early, I suppose," he 
 admitted. " It doesn't belong to my life." 
 
 " Why not to you, as much as to the next one ? "
 
 230 THE REAL WORLD 
 
 " Because, why, I have just work ahead." 
 
 " Does that keep you from playing ? " 
 
 " Yes, this kind of play. My work can't be with these 
 people," he answered brusquely, "nor my play. I am a 
 mere stranger, who has happened in by mistake and who 
 will go back to his bench to-morrow." 
 
 Miss Mather pondered his remarks seriously. He 
 puzzled her. 
 
 " These are working people, too." 
 
 "Not in my way. I've always belonged to the plain 
 workers, and I don't know how to do this. Pancoast 
 Lane is a long way off, isn't it]? " 
 
 She blushed at his gaucherie, his insisting on matters 
 that were usually overlooked. 
 
 " Do you want to learn ? " she asked. 
 
 "No I don't believe I do. I thought once I did 
 it was the chief thing I worked for, I believe." 
 
 He did not say that Elsie had given him that ambition, 
 and that to be of the world which Elsie loved and admired 
 had been the secret spring of much toilsome effort. To 
 night that fact seemed silly and childish. He could 
 never be like these other people, and he had a crude dis 
 like of them because they had cheapened for him his 
 dream of Elsie. 
 
 "It isn't really worth while," Miss Mather mused. 
 " One learns it easily, not as well perhaps as Elsie, but 
 well enough. There are other things to learn, to do, 
 and I suppose you mean to do them." 
 
 Her voice was singularly earnest, and her eyes had an 
 unexpected fire.
 
 THE HEAL WORLD 231 
 
 " Just now it doesn't seem very clear what is worth 
 doing," he admitted frankly. 
 
 " Everything ! " she exclaimed. " To work out some 
 thing good in life, some achievement ! " 
 
 " Do you suppose you'd feel any better if you did ? " 
 
 She glanced at him coldly, and then seeing the troubled 
 expression of his face, she said gently : 
 
 "For one thing you make life better and easier for 
 others." 
 
 There was something personal in this, which he was 
 curious to understand, but a man broke in upon their 
 talk, and he did not see her again. 
 
 Then Jack talked to the older women whom he knew. 
 They had supped very well, and did not listen to his 
 conversation, their eyes following the movements of the 
 younger people with unquenched enthusiasm. So he 
 relapsed into gazing at the brilliant faces of the women. 
 To his uncritical eyes they were all lovely, with deli 
 cate features and vivacious, sympathetic eyes, all 
 dainty and seductive, the decorative, floral tracery of 
 the world. The heat of the room, the recurring bars of 
 dance-music, the maze of changing features slowly hypno 
 tized him until the scene seemed to have repeated itself 
 over and over in his consciousness, like some symbolical 
 movement. 
 
 Gradually the ranks thinned, and the voices grew 
 louder. He could distinguish discordant bursts of laugh 
 ter, and awkward lurching movements. The champagne 
 and heat were taking their effect. It was nearly three 
 o'clock, and those couples that had stayed went out to
 
 232 THE REAL WORLD 
 
 the dining room for a second supper. This was more 
 noisy and boisterous than the former one in spite of the 
 diminished numbers. Only intimates seemed to have 
 remained. Jack was on the point of hunting up Steven 
 son to take him to his train, when Elsie slipped from the 
 supper-room and laid her hand on his arm. 
 
 "Let's go out on the veranda," she said wearily. 
 "They are so noisy they won't miss us. I am nearly 
 dead, and the end isn't yet. Did you like me this even 
 ing ? " she asked with her usual egotism. 
 
 " I never knew how beautiful you were ! n 
 
 She smiled, pleasantly soothed by his unreserved ad 
 miration. 
 
 " I think I was rather fit, myself. The young and old, 
 my infant class and my old guard, have done their pret 
 tiest, too. But goody ! I am tired. What's that, a fire 
 at sea?" She pointed to a spot of light above Seal 
 Island. 
 
 "Merely the first streak of dawn above Seal Island, 
 Elsie. Time for bed ! " 
 
 " I don't want to go to bed ! Do you remember, Jack, 
 the afternoon we spent over on the rocks there; how I 
 gave you your first lessons about the world and things ? 
 How green I was, and how I loved to teach you ! " 
 
 " I remember that better than I remember anything." 
 
 "What good days we had that September! Some 
 times I think all the really best times of my life I have 
 had with you, Jack." 
 
 She clung very close to his arm, gazing out at the 
 advancing dawn above Seal Island. Fresh shouts of
 
 THE HEAL WORLD 233 
 
 laughter mingled with loud cries reached them from the 
 supper-room. 
 
 "Billy Enders is doing stunts, I suppose. I hope 
 they'll leave some glass unbroken," Elsie observed. 
 
 " I know I oughtn't to keep you ! " Jack exclaimed 
 reluctantly. 
 
 " They're happy, and I am happy to be here with you 
 like this, dear Jack ! " 
 
 She touched his shoulder with her head affectionately 
 for a moment. He trembled involuntarily, and spoke 
 with mechanical slowness. 
 
 " I am glad I saw this, Elsie. To-night convinces me 
 that you chose right, that you are really happier so 
 than without all this. You may want something more, 
 now and then, but you'll say to yourself, 'No, I have 
 what I really want,' won't you ? " 
 
 " Don't lecture me, Jack. Just let me stand here and 
 forget what I am. I don't want to think of myself just 
 yet." 
 
 So they stood watching the eastern glow without 
 speaking until he noticed that she shivered. 
 
 " You are getting cold." 
 
 "No, I was thinking of something. Fetch me that 
 cloak if you want to. I was thinking of to-morrow." 
 
 " Don't think of to-morrow ! " he responded more gayly. 
 
 "I must. There'll be a terrible scene with Bushy. 
 He's a Turk ! I can say it to you, Jack. I can say any 
 thing to you. It isn't like talking to the other men 
 you understand. He's been waspish all the summer 
 doesn't like that little Duroy. I believe he doesn't
 
 234 THE EEAL WOELD 
 
 mind how many men I have around me, so long as I 
 keep to Americans, bat he doesn't like foreigners. He 
 can't speak the language, and when we talk French he 
 doesn't know what we're saying, and thinks it must be 
 scandalous. He almost made a fuss at dinner to-night, 
 and he's sulking now in the smoking-room. Don't you 
 see why I have to have my excitements? I can't, I 
 can't drop people, and give up my interest in men. I 
 couldn't play out the farce ! And I can't shut my doors 
 on people, every one he takes it into his head to be 
 nasty about. He hates all the interesting ones. If they 
 haven't money, if they are just artists or actors or clever, 
 he insults them insults them in his own house! And 
 if they have position, and he doesn't dare to insult them, 
 he takes it out of me. Oh, Jack, you always make me 
 think, and I hate thinking." 
 
 He held her hot hand in his broad palm, and caressed 
 it gently as he would a child's. In the pallor of the 
 morning dusk her sparkle had gone out. For the first 
 time he could see lines of experience and nervous ex 
 haustion creep into her face. 
 
 " So you won't stay over even one day for me ? " she 
 resumed peevishly. "You think I am altogether hor 
 rid to say such things as I tell you. Well, I feel 'em, 
 and lots worse beside. And you're wrong in saying that 
 this pays. I am not so cheap as that! Why don't I 
 break off then and live apart? You don't know how 
 things tie themselves into ten thousand knots. There's 
 Frank ! He's gone and made a mess of things in busi 
 ness, and Bushy's got to help him out. Father hasn't a
 
 THE REAL WORLD 235 
 
 ent that's another story ! Ugh ! I wonder some 
 times there aren't more of those horrible newspaper 
 stories about husbands that die poisoned, or suicides by 
 wives ! " 
 
 She broke off with a laugh. 
 
 " You think I am pretty far gone ? But you care a 
 little still, just a little ? Tell me ! " 
 
 She took the lapels of Ms coat and played with them, 
 pulling him nearer to her, in the irresistible desire for 
 sympathy. 
 
 "I can see nothing, nothing, not five minutes ahead! 
 If I were only like you, Jack ! But women arent made 
 that way. They haven't the power to live along without 
 getting what they want. You'll find a better woman, 
 Jack ; some one who will love enough I am a selfish, 
 useless thing, and you make me feel it. And thafs why 
 I can't let you go to-night, for I don't know how long. 
 I want to say something to you, make that promise, you 
 remember. I want to have it to think of when I am 
 just ready to forget everything. We can't talk of it 
 to-night, but to-morrow, to-morrow " 
 
 " Where are you hiding, Mrs. Cushing ? " a jovial voice 
 broke in behind them. " If s dangerous watching sunrises. 
 Miss Dominic is going to " 
 
 "You're wanted inside, Elsie," Koger Mather inter 
 rupted. " They're getting pretty lively." 
 
 Jack followed Mather and Elsie into the house to hunt 
 for Stevenson, who had probably forgotten all about his 
 train. He found him in the smoking-room, surrounded 
 by a group of hilarious young men, who were laughing
 
 236 THE REAL WORLD 
 
 loudly at stories which they had not heard. Other men 
 were stretched out on the divans, overcome by champagne 
 and sleep. One middle-aged man a well-known lawyer 
 had slipped from the leather chair where a friend had 
 placed him, and lay in a knot on the floor. As Jack 
 entered, he raised his head, blinked feebly at the electric 
 light, and sank back with a contented sigh. 
 
 "This is what I call a thoroughly husky party," 
 Stevenson observed genially to Jack, when he was re 
 minded of his train. " It's worth while missing the train 
 to see so much good society unbend." 
 
 He insisted on making his farewells to Mrs. Gushing. 
 They found her in the music room with the remaining 
 guests. All the people who could be accused of having 
 serious tastes had taken their departure long before. 
 Those who had "stayed on" seemed to have counted 
 especially on this end of the night. An impromptu 
 vaudeville was in progress. When the two men entered, 
 a rather plump young married woman had just finished a 
 dance upon a table and was being lifted to the floor by 
 young Enderson amid much uproar. Then Elsie began the 
 accompaniment of a popular song, and a little fluffy- 
 haired girl sang the French words. Her childlike face 
 emphasized the sous-entendu of the lines; at times the 
 company drowned her thin voice and the tinkle of the 
 piano by stamping their feet, clapping and howling the 
 chorus, which seemed very familiar. One of the servants 
 was serving champagne and removing the empty glasses 
 out of the reach of the boisterous guests. His white, 
 sleepy face, as he performed his task mechanically, con-
 
 THE BBAL WORLD 237 
 
 trasted amusingly with, the perspiring, purple counte 
 nances of the feasters. 
 
 "Come on," Stevenson exclaimed gruffly. "It turns 
 my stomach when the women begin to mix in this kind 
 of thing." 
 
 Jack nodded. It reminded him of the servants' picnic 
 when Elsie had shown her contempt for the vulgar. 
 He remembered oddly that Miss Mather had not been 
 offended that night. He pictured to himself the sneer 
 on her fine, regular face at this performance. She could 
 never tolerate the common thing, the sensual abandon 
 ment of self, such as this. 
 
 A servant lay stretched on the hall-seat, snoring. 
 The two young men let themselves out of the house and 
 walked to the stables for their trap. There the grooms 
 and maids from the large house, and the ladies' maids 
 who were waiting for their mistresses, were entertaining 
 themselves with champagne and ices. While the drunken 
 groom was bringing their horse and carriage, they watched 
 the servants carouse. 
 
 "They aren't so rowdy as the others!" Stevenson 
 commented, taking the horse from the groom. 
 
 As they whirled rapidly down the drive, the notes of 
 the chorus to the French song shouted in every key 
 floated out from the cottage on the Head.
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 AFTER Jack had bidden Stevenson good-by at the sta 
 tion, he sent the carriage back to the hotel and started 
 over the hills in the direction of Pemberton Mills. Now 
 that he had put off leaving at Elsie's request, he had 
 time to spare and no desire to sleep. The cheerfulness 
 of the dawn, which spread with a certain solemnity and 
 fresh grace across the hills, soothed him and laid to 
 rest the distorted, incoherent thoughts that beset him 
 these days. He was glad to think of seeing Elsie once 
 more, and subtly touched with gratitude that she cared 
 for him, useless as he was in all her perplexities, and 
 did him the grace to pour out to him her stormy heart. 
 When he stopped to consider her calmly, to ponder her 
 vehement accusations and lamentations, he judged her 
 narrowly and hardly. But this morning, with the touch 
 of her hands still on his arm, he was unwarrantably 
 happy. He could believe that she would still win peace 
 and power over herself, and that he could in some dark 
 fashion save her from her more desperate moods. 
 
 As he reached the Cove, a light mantle of morning 
 mist was rising from the sea and wrapping itself about 
 High Head. He wondered if the revel up there had 
 come to an end at last. With a feeling of disgust at 
 the men and women whom he had left drinking and 
 
 238
 
 THE REAL WORLD 239 
 
 romping in the cottage, he passed the silent lodge. 
 Beyond, beneath the cliff, a path led through the woods 
 around the Point. Elsie and he had often taken it in 
 preference to the high-road, and he wondered if it still 
 remained, after Gushing had improved the property. In 
 the idleness of his mood, he climbed over the stone wall 
 and pushed his way through the undergrowth to the 
 shore. After a few moments he was on the path, walk 
 ing out to the Point, following aimlessly the convolu 
 tions of the steep shore-line. He passed beneath the 
 Cushings' stables, where the servants of the belated 
 guests were still carousing. 
 
 Finally he stopped, not knowing how close to the 
 house the path might lead him; he had no wish to 
 return to the party. The slanting rays of the sun were 
 burning off the mist that rose from the cold water. 
 The sun seemed to struggle with the heavy spirits of 
 the night, now dissipating for a space the thin vapors, 
 and again shrouding itself in fresh banks of fog. Yet, 
 he thought the sun would conquer, making a resplendent 
 September day. Under the thick firs it was still dark, 
 and his feet tripped over the interlacing roots of the 
 trees. His mind glowed with thoughts of Elsie, brighter 
 conceptions struggling with his gloomy doubts, as the 
 sun's warmth contended with the fog. She was a braver 
 soul, tenderer and truer than his harsh judging admitted. 
 He was hard she suffered, and her words were but her 
 impulsive, wild, rebellious self. All would come out 
 right ! And when she had subdued herself to acceptance 
 of her fate, she would make her acceptance magnificent,
 
 240 THE REAL WORLD 
 
 full and cordial and sweet, like her gentle self, that he 
 had loved for years, would always love. 
 
 He had already begun to retrace his steps when a 
 movement among the firs above him caught his attentive 
 ears. At first it seemed the snapping of a dead branch. 
 Then, as he listened, he heard a human sound a mur 
 mur of voices, and through the thick branches he saw 
 the outline of figures on the path above him. Some ser 
 vants playing the game of their masters ! But he 
 turned, without purpose, and swiftly climbed back on 
 the path until he was on a level with the figures, and 
 suddenly beyond a wide-reaching branch that stretched 
 across the path, he came upon them. The man was in 
 evening dress, the woman in a long gray cloak, which 
 Jack remembered he had taken from the hall to cover 
 Elsie with. Their backs were turned to him, but he 
 knew and for a moment he thought to escape. The 
 woman's form muffled in the cloak was clinging to the 
 man, a passive weight, one arm slipping in nerveless 
 abandonment from the folds of the garment. . . . 
 
 The man raised his head and looked at Jack, then 
 spoke to the woman, who sprang forward. 
 
 "Jack ! It's Jack ! Why, I thought you had gone 
 hours ago " 
 
 Her voice broke harshly in the attempt to gain her 
 usual assurance, and the face looked gray and hard in 
 the pallid light beneath the trees. 
 
 " Why, why," she resumed, summoning her quick will. 
 " Why did you come back ? " 
 
 Jack shook, as if the dank morning air had given
 
 THE REAL WOULD 241 
 
 an ague. He listened, seemed to wait for her to say 
 something, and did not reply. But lie blocked the path ; 
 Elsie began again : 
 
 " We have been having a morning walk to get cool 
 it's been such a stuffy night. We found this old path 
 the path along the shore " 
 
 " Don't lie, Elsie," Jack interrupted in a monotonous 
 voice. 
 
 At the words Elsie shivered, and again her face set 
 hard and gray. She gathered the cloak about her and 
 took Mather's arm. Jack pushed back into the trees 
 to let them pass. She walked unsteadily, as if the 
 champagne she had drunk had suddenly gone to her 
 head, and Mather supported her. But she pushed him 
 from her and walked ahead more surely, passing Jack 
 without a glance. As Mather followed close behind, 
 something in his face, half sneer, half-irritated self- 
 contempt, a mere flicker of hatred for the person who 
 caused this scene, caught the eye of the trembling 
 man, whose arm he almost knocked as he sauntered past 
 in the narrow path. The foolish trembling ceased, and 
 in a moment the hot blood surged over Jack once more. 
 Blindly, purposely, with the inarticulate cry of the beast, 
 he threw himself on Mather. The force of his spring 
 carried Mather from his feet, and together the men 
 rolled across the slippery path, and crashed into the 
 underbrush beneath. Mather seized his enemy about the 
 neck, and Jack fought to wrench himself free. The 
 pent-up strength of his peasant people rose in his blood, 
 uncontrolled by thought of decency, of self, of any catas-
 
 242 THE REAL WORLD 
 
 trophe. One desire, one thirst, one fever, possessed him, 
 to kill this man, whom he hated, who had been base 
 enough to take the woman he loved when she was weak. 
 
 In the struggle they fell and rolled over the steep 
 bank, fighting wildly, Jack's hand at the other's throat, 
 his neck bent and twisted in Mather's grip. Thus they 
 plunged together down the bank, rolled over the cold 
 ledge of the shore, and with a final lurch fell into the 
 water. The one conscious idea that filled Jack's mind 
 was the desire to choke the throat he held in his hand, 
 to throttle the man's life, to kill him first where they lay 
 like dogs in a shallow pool. The icy sea lapped their 
 faces. The man in the convulsive grasp of Jack's broad 
 hand relaxed his grip, groaned and gagged. Mechani 
 cally, unconsciously, feeling himself free, Jack raised the 
 limp head in his hand and banged it against the rocky 
 bottom of the pool. He dug his knees into the breast 
 to get a firmer hold, and beat the head back and forth. 
 
 " Will you murder him ! Stop, Jack, stop ! Jack, 
 stop, will you murder him ! " 
 
 Elsie seized his arm and dragged it back. He threw 
 her off roughly. 
 
 "Are you mad? You will kill him! you will kill 
 him!" she shrieked, trying to pinion his arms. 
 
 The hysterical tones of her voice broke the tension in 
 his mind. He let the head fall back into the pool and 
 straightened himself, looking vacantly at Elsie. 
 
 " You have killed him ! " she cried, dragging Mather's 
 limp head from the tide and pillowing it on a rock. 
 "Why don't you kill me?"
 
 THE BEAL WORLD 243 
 
 Jack's arms twitched, and he strode toward her. She 
 cowered down beside Mather and waited for the blow. 
 But Jack looked at the motionless figure of the man. 
 
 " Is he dead ? " he whispered hoarsely. " Is he dead 
 yet, Elsie?" 
 
 Elsie wiped the still face with her handkerchief, and 
 presently Mather moaned and opened his eyes. 
 
 " Go home ! go home at once ! Get away," Jack 
 ordered, in his normal voice. As she hesitated, still 
 wiping the bleeding face, he repeated angrily: "Go 
 home. The man is alive. I will attend to him. Get 
 out of this ! " 
 
 He grasped Mather's shoulders and drew him to the 
 bank, placing him carefully among the bushes. 
 
 " I will find some one to help me," he said calmly. 
 And as Elsie still lingered he added roughly : 
 
 " You can do no good. Get away I " 
 
 Elsie obeyed, hurrying up the bank. At the top she 
 looked back and saw Jack bending over the body in the 
 bushes ; then she hurried on toward the house.
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 THE rosy daybreak had given false promise. A thick, 
 dull gray strip of fog laced the sea-line, and every minute 
 broadened, as though a greasy fluid had been poured out 
 upon the glassy surface of the water. Two young men, 
 who were getting ready a seine-boat at the head of 
 the cove, looked searchingly from time to time at the 
 open sea and made remarks. They encouraged each 
 other to believe well of the day, but did not hasten their 
 preparations. Finally they moored the heavy boat in 
 deep water and lit their pipes. The figure of a man, 
 hatless, with torn shirt and rumpled coat, could be seen, 
 stumbling over the rocky shore, coming towards the boat. 
 As he drew near, they recognized young Pemberton, and 
 hailed him, asking what was the matter. He told them 
 briefly that a man had fallen into the water off High 
 Head and had disabled himself. He directed them 
 where to find the injured man, and jumping into the 
 boat, called out: 
 
 " I will sail around and help you take him off in the 
 boat." 
 
 The two fishermen, stupefied by the man's excitement, 
 asked no questions, but set off by the shore path whence 
 Jack had come. With nervous haste, Jack trimmed the 
 sails and got the lumbering seiner under way. He headed 
 
 244
 
 THE HEAL WORLD 245 
 
 for the point of the Neck, which was marked by the roof 
 of the Gushing cottage. 
 
 The cheerful lap of the little morning waves soothed 
 the passions of the man. The soft tug of the tiller under 
 his arm helped him to think more connectedly, to see 
 things clearer. Mather was not dead, nor very seri 
 ously hurt, he believed. He had spoken quite rationally 
 before Jack left to seek help. He had not killed him. 
 He was glad of it now ! The fishermen would find 
 Mather thirsty and ill-tempered, and the three of them 
 could get him into the boat. Then he would let them 
 sail the injured man over to the General's cottage, 
 and take himself off, away from Pemberton Neck for 
 ever! 
 
 The tide, stronger than the fitful shore breeze, swept 
 the seiner out by High Head close to the iron-stained 
 ledges at the foot of the cottage. The fog, which was 
 threading inshore rapidly, shifted for a moment and 
 revealed near at hand above him the broad veranda, the 
 gable ends of the house. As his eyes rested there, he 
 saw a woman's arm cautiously reach out and draw in the 
 blinds of a window on the second floor. For an instant 
 before the broad blind swung in, he caught sight of a 
 white figure gazing out at the fog. Abandoning the tiller, 
 he stood up and strained his eyes to recognize the woman. 
 Her attention, too, was attracted by the boat. She 
 lingered at the window, watching intently. . . . 
 
 The boat came into the wind ; the little waves slapped 
 against the prow more querulously. Jack grasped the 
 tiller and set his face from the land. A moment more
 
 246 THE REAL WORLD 
 
 a filmy, damp shadow fell from the sky, completely 
 enveloping the boat. The cottage was gone; the iron- 
 stained ledges fast faded into the streamers of the fog- 
 bank, which filtered into the Bay from the open sea. 
 He still held the heavy boat on her course, regardless of 
 the encroaching fog, which disguised the long, thin reefs 
 that ran out into the Bay. Thicker and thicker came 
 the fog, in banks, in fast filing clouds. The wind had 
 shifted and was blowing steadily, faster than the silent 
 fog-banks. He no longer knew how he was headed. 
 
 The fog was thick like greasy water, heavy and bring 
 ing heaviness to the heart of the man, something insub 
 stantial like the forms of fear against which man vainly 
 casts himself. The impalpable waste divided before him, 
 swallowed him and his craft, and immediately closed 
 stealthily behind him, pressing him on all sides with 
 dreary, silent insistence. The land might be a stone's 
 throw from him ; it might be in another planet. A puff 
 of wind might tear the veil asunder for a moment, but 
 for a moment only. Long threads of grayish white drew 
 across the sails, leaving bright beads of moisture, and the 
 water gurgled mournfully beneath the bowsprit. 
 
 He liked the cold touch of the fog, which bathed his 
 heated breast like a damp sponge. He liked the sense 
 of motion, of cleaving a way through vast gulfs of yield 
 ing air. The isolation, the will-less motion from this 
 world to others, on, elsewhere, beyond, calmed his 
 chafed spirit. The brutal outburst of bloody desire 
 faded, and he knew himself no longer. The man Mather, 
 the woman he had loved, took on the pitiful ghostliness
 
 THE BEAL WORLD 247 
 
 of the uncertain fog, and human anger became as the 
 inarticulate expostulation of wraiths. Through the 
 grayish waves there sounded the thud of lazily heaving 
 billows on a rocky shore some island ahead, some 
 hard speck in the swimming vacuity of fog-land ! He 
 neither courted it nor fled from it. As the seiner swept 
 on under the wind, a bell-buoy clanged its harsh note, 
 which soon softened into uncertainty in the fog, as 
 though the bell were muffled in felt. In his lethargy he 
 cared little whether he was to bring up on the Bull Reef 
 or some other ledge of the treacherous coast. The world 
 that had struggled into being, the world that he had 
 created faithfully in abstinence and with longing effort, 
 was dissolving and floating away, like the streamers of 
 mist that swept across the sails. 
 
 A small, weak cause for this wreck of a man's world, 
 he told himself. A woman that would take her cheap 
 pleasure! There were other men and women to believe 
 in and a world to gain yet. But of that he knew noth 
 ing now. All such reasonableness of a sensible man had 
 fled when his hand was on Mather's throat. She, too, 
 was created of mist, insubstantial, deceptive, fleeting ! 
 The love that he had given her, the very elements of 
 courage and manliness which she had first given him, 
 vanished as the illusions of a silly youth. Again and 
 again, while he clung to the wet tiller, he tried to sum 
 mon his courage, as a general calls upon his reserve ; he 
 put forth his will to remember the world as it stood 
 before this fog. Again and again it was swallowed up 
 until the sail and the waves, the wet boat and his clammy
 
 248 THE KEAL WOBLD 
 
 body were drifting in the billowy waste. There was 
 nothing firm and abiding; he was nothing. 
 
 She had used him as a plaything for her virtuous 
 moods. She had spilled the sentimental yearnings of 
 her soul in his ears. They had made a solemn covenant 
 of will together, and in a few hours she had taken her 
 life of pleasure, like a common woman, stealing from 
 her husband's house ! She was no other than Stella and 
 Liddy, and less than the little waitress. 
 
 All the selfishness and egotism of her nature were 
 stripped bare before him. He had thought her cold and 
 chaste, almost unwomanly hard, and so she was for him. 
 She would not sin with him. But in her heart she was 
 carnal. A strange desire, an unknown brutality, took 
 possession of him. He would go back to her and master 
 her. A time would come in her facile heart for him. 
 From one man to another "she would turn, pushing her 
 unappeased desires for pleasure a little farther each 
 time, demanding more license, more brutal sensations. 
 All the animal instincts of his nature, hitherto repressed 
 and scourged by his strong will, asserted themselves with 
 feverish visions. He remembered how soft and white her 
 flesh had seemed that very night. There were treasures 
 of voluptuousness in the woman. He had held her as 
 the chief of his reverences, but she was a thing to use 
 like other coarse vessels, to use and throw away. The 
 round, white arms, the arching lips that would tremble 
 in passion, the mottled flush of her warm skin, the scent 
 of her hair, the abandon of her desirable person. . . . 
 
 That was the part of a man to wait and use her
 
 THE REAL WORLD 249 
 
 when his turn came in the round of her desires, to sat 
 isfy this horrible lust and forget, not to sit here like 
 a shivering idiot, soaking in this rotting fog. As Steve 
 said, he was ignorant of life, a green country boy who did 
 not know how to make himself comfortable among men. 
 
 The seiner came heavily into the wind and fell off, 
 wallowing into the bosom of the fog, its track wiped 
 from the oily waters as it passed. A sickly gleam of 
 warmish sun permeated the damp : the day was getting 
 on; by the time he reached Pemberton Neck, the sea- 
 turn would have been swept away and the ordinary raw 
 landscape of life would appear. He must get to work, 
 make his money, and learn to satisfy his wants, like the 
 other animals, at the huge feeding-trough of life. . . . 
 
 She had led him to this defilement of soul where there 
 was nothing but lust, lust and hate. He had dreamed 
 her walking fearlessly with, generous heart, pure and 
 daring, foolish but sound and sweet. He saw her now 
 as a mere soft, pleasant-bodied playfellow, a stimulat 
 ing gamester to win from. It was but a boy's dream the 
 other world of restraint and noble desires, the life of 
 the soul. The only world real or unreal was the 
 world that touched these sharp senses. He laughed 
 insolently in the dreary fog, and stretched his numb 
 limbs. He was something of a man; his long well- 
 nourished body, his smoothly thumping heart, his heavy 
 hands and powerful arms appealed to him in a new way. 
 " An engine of mortality," he muttered. Yes ! an engine 
 that had its work of destruction before it. 
 
 In the eagerness of this new purpose, he fixed the tiller
 
 250 THE EEAL WORLD 
 
 and hunted through the lockers for a compass. This he 
 dusted carefully and set beside him on the seat. He 
 was impatient with the folly that had blown him hither 
 and thither for hours. He was hungry and cold; his 
 good body reminded him of the idiotic neglect he had 
 paid it. He would feed it grossly enough when he got 
 safe out of this. Elsie would find a new man would 
 she like him ? 
 
 The whistle of a large vessel bellowed close at hand, 
 and in a moment bellowed again impatiently like a help 
 less beast blindfolded among dangers. He listened for 
 the note. It was not the whistle of a local boat. He 
 judged it to be the St. John's steamer: he had been 
 blown far out to sea. The wind freshened, bringing in 
 thick volumes of the muddy fog, and the seiner's tackle 
 groaned. Suddenly the black side of a steel steamer 
 loomed up over his quarter like the flank of a monster, 
 and at the same instant the fog- whistle bellowed. A man 
 peered down from the bridge at the coatless, hatless 
 figure in the little boat ; the steamer's screw kicked up 
 a little spume, and the monster moved off slowly, bellow 
 ing in grievous complaint. 
 
 He shook the compass ; it bobbed to and fro aimlessly, 
 worthlessly. He was lost, fast enough ! He crouched 
 back beside the tiller, the warmth of his fierce passions 
 chilled by the shrouding fog. He would not reach the 
 Neck he no longer cared to. Elsie had gone, disap 
 peared like this phantom of a boat. The new idols of 
 his foolish imagination had taken themselves away and 
 with them had flown desire. Blank waste remained, like
 
 THE REAL WORLD 251 
 
 these fog-swept waters through which he was plunging, 
 wallowing, groaning. The voices of the world struck 
 muffled on his deadened ears, moaning, as ghosts might 
 moan in the desert places of a new world. Faith ? Faith 
 had faded with the streak of dawn. There was nothing 
 in his mind but the old kaleidoscope of antic men and 
 women. . . . 
 
 " Well you been drunk, I callate." 
 
 A man clothed in oil-skins was leaning over the side of 
 the seiner. The dirty dory in which he stood bobbed up 
 and down. Jack looked at him and laughed vacantly. 
 
 " I suppose so ! Where am I ? " 
 
 " Ashore on Big Hog Back, and if I hadn't seen you 
 from the light, I guess you'd been buried here." 
 
 "Is that so?" Jack asked, trying to move his stiff 
 limbs. " Give me a drink I'm cold clear through." 
 
 "I guess you had enough of that before you went to 
 sea in that rig," the man answered cautiously. 
 
 "Well, don't give me a drink then," Jack retorted 
 glumly. "But take me ashore whereabouts is your 
 old sand-spit, anyway ? "
 
 BOOK m 
 
 MANHOOD
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 IT was sultry even in Hodder and Kimball's offices on 
 the thirteenth floor of the Nassau Street building. The 
 senior member of the law firm had been out of town for 
 the last month ; the junior member was in Europe in 
 search of rest. On this Saturday afternoon Jack Pem- 
 berton was alone in the office. The clerks, and the two 
 other young lawyers associated with Hodder and Kim- 
 ball, had fled to the seashore for a little respite from 
 the heat of early September. Jack had moved his desk 
 to the open window, in the hope of waylaying a stray 
 puff of air. A long, typewritten manuscript lay on the 
 desk before him. He pushed it to one side and took up 
 a voluminous letter from Stevenson that he had already 
 read. There was an unusual note of depression in it. 
 
 " It isn't any bonanza I'm urging you to take. To tell 
 the truth, I want you, and I am afraid I am asking you 
 to join us against your best interests. This panic has 
 struck my father between wind and water. He had just 
 about got matters where he wanted them, when the bad 
 times came. Now it isn't a question of the road's paying 
 anything to him and his friends, who own the stock. 
 It's nip and tuck to pay the interest on the bonds and 
 keep out of the courts. Between ourselves, the Iowa 
 and Northern is in pretty bad shape. But if you like a 
 
 255
 
 256 THE KEAL WORLD 
 
 fight, we can accommodate you. ... I may be East 
 this winter, and I will explain what we are doing. . . . 
 Little Black got that job at Iowa City. He's happy " 
 
 Jack laid the letter aside, and resumed his study of 
 the typewritten document. That was concerned with 
 the most considerable piece of business which he had 
 yet had intrusted to him. Oddly enough, it had some 
 slight connection with Stevenson ; for when the broker 
 age firm of Greenacre and Co. had assigned, certain bonds 
 of the Iowa and Northern had appeared as a not incon 
 siderable item in the assets of the firm. At the time of 
 Greenacre and Co.'s assignment, he had helped Mr. Kim- 
 ball unravel the snarl of the firm's affairs. 
 
 He leaned back in his chair and summed up the his 
 tory of the case. The man Greenacre had been con 
 nected with the old firm of Boston bankers, Lord, 
 Mather, & Greenacre. The methods of this reputable firm, 
 whose sign had grown faded and rusty in the sixty years 
 it had hung over the windows of their State Street offices, 
 had cramped the ambitions of young Greenacre, nephew 
 of General Mather's partner, and he had moved to New 
 York in the eighties to find a larger field for his opera 
 tions. There he had had an almost instant success, and 
 when Ned Mather had finally removed himself from 
 Harvard and chosen to live in New York, Greenacre 
 had taken him into his office, thus allying himself more 
 closely with the Boston banking house. Then, a few 
 years later, Frank Mason had found a berth in the same 
 office. In a very short time these two young men had 
 become partners with Greenacre, at least in name. The
 
 THE REAL WORLD 257 
 
 Gushing and the Mather interests furnished a certain 
 solid reputation for the operations of the firm. 
 
 Then followed, as Jack knew thoroughly, the specula 
 tive career of the house of Greenacre and Co., which had 
 closed in the office of Hodder and Kimball. When the 
 smash came, the firm's affairs were so closely interwoven 
 with family relationships that their settlement had re 
 solved itself pretty largely into an adjustment between 
 E. P. Gushing and General Mather. And, as Jack also 
 knew, the Mathers had got the worst of it. General 
 Mather had paid liberally for his son's business training, 
 and in return had been forced to take these Iowa and 
 Northern bonds for which there was no ready market, 
 while E. P. Gushing had skilfully covered himself from 
 any large loss before the assignment. The details of the 
 transaction were embedded in the long typewritten manu 
 script, which Jack had helped to prepare. 
 
 He laid the document aside, and knitting his hands 
 behind his head, allowed his mind to wander over the 
 human questions suggested by the dull sheets. "What 
 had happened to the engagement between Frank Mason 
 and Miss Mather ? It had dragged on now for over six 
 years, and even if it had survived the wreck of Greenacre 
 and Co., and the Jew dealing of Gushing in the settle 
 ment, could it survive the latest manifestation of the 
 young man's worthlessness ? That was a recent develop 
 ment of the failure, and, as Kimball was in Europe, it 
 had fallen upon Jack to take charge of it. It was partly 
 on this account that he was to be found here in the sultry 
 office on a September Saturday afternoon. Was there a
 
 258 THE HEAL WOELD 
 
 / 
 
 loophole of escape for young Mason, honorable, or even 
 legally possible, without having recourse to his rich 
 brother-in-law ? After a weary day of investigation, 
 during which he had reviewed the entire history of 
 Green acre and Co., he had come to the conclusion that 
 there was none. Either Gushing must pay a considerable 
 sum, or his brother-in-law must take the consequences of 
 a criminal act. He hoped sincerely that Miss Mather 
 had broken with the fellow, and would no longer suffer 
 for him. 
 
 He smiled as he recalled the attitude of Ned Mather 
 during the protracted investigation of Greenacre and 
 Co.'s affairs. It had been almost impossible to find him, 
 especially when the polo season openedj and when he 
 was induced to attend the meetings in Hodder and 
 Kimball's office, he showed an astounding ignorance of 
 what his firm had been doing. His face wore the passive, 
 sad expression of the renaissance portrait, accented by a 
 sardonic droop to the mouth, and his bearing with the 
 lawyers and creditors was haughty. The personal lesson 
 he drew from the experience was an amusing one. 
 
 " I told the General," he confided to Jack on one of 
 these occasions, "that he would save money by setting 
 me up on a ranch. Koger is no star in business, but he's 
 never cost the family what this will. The General prob 
 ably agrees with me now ; but he is an obstinate man. 
 He can't surmount his prejudices in favor of hustling. 
 He doesn't understand the inevitable growth of a leisure 
 class in American society, but this will open his eyes, 
 perhaps."
 
 THE REAL WORLD 259 
 
 Mather had displayed unexpected flashes of shrewd 
 ness, also. 
 
 "Greenacre is a rascal," Mather told Kimball and 
 Pemberton one afternoon, after a meeting during which 
 he had apparently been asleep. " Mason was a tool, and 
 I, a fool ; but Greenacre was plain bad. When Cushing's 
 steel business was incorporated, he and Gushing first got 
 together. They are no saints ! " 
 
 Jack and the older lawyer came to the same conclusion, 
 and though the new development in the case, which 
 involved Mason, shook his faith in the latter's innocence, 
 he was inclined to suspend judgment. Ned Mather and 
 the General were the only figures in the affair who had 
 left an agreeable impression upon the young lawyer. 
 
 His connection with the case had been distasteful to 
 him; but Kimball, whose health had already begun to 
 break, had leaned on him more and more. The other 
 young men in the office had envied him the preference 
 which Kimball had shown, and had predicted for him a 
 rapid rise in the office, especially when Kimball had gone 
 abroad, leaving Jack in charge of much of his business. 
 Yet, in spite of this fair prospect, Jack did not dismiss 
 Stevenson's invitation lightly. The chance for a good fight, 
 even a losing one, attracted him ; still more, the vision of 
 a new field, where men touched one another more inti 
 mately than in the routine practice of Hodder and Kim- 
 ball's office. Stevenson and he had talked of this plan 
 ever since their first year at the Law School, but some 
 thing had always intervened to deter him from going West. 
 Now it was Kimball's absence, as much as anything.
 
 260 . THE REAL WOULD 
 
 He wrote one or two letters, then closed his desk and 
 left the silent building. There was nothing for him to 
 do before dinner, and to waste the time he strolled up 
 town through the interminable thoroughfare of shops. 
 The clatter of the city dulled his thoughts. He became 
 a machine. At 'the proper time he would know that he 
 was hungry, and satisfy his hunger. Then he would put 
 himself upon his bed and in due time fall asleep. To 
 morrow he would rise and return to the Nassau Street 
 offices, and as problems arose in the course of the day 
 he would solve them, his mind putting forth a certain 
 idea in response to a certain stimulus, as a machine lifts 
 a long arm and then drops it. The next day, the same ; 
 and the next, and the next. This was life. . . . 
 
 He liked the down-town office buildings, the wholesale 
 stores, and banks, even the roar of the drays and the 
 turmoil of men in the heat of their affairs. All this 
 sweat of life appealed to his machine nature. That was 
 repeated, too, day by day, for all the years and the 
 centuries : that made existence, as we know it, he said 
 to himself. 
 
 He liked it less as the character of the thoroughfare 
 changed, first about Fourteenth Street to large retail shops 
 and the cheaper marts of feminine fashion, and then 
 at Twenty-third Street, to more luxurious shops. Be 
 yond Twenty-third Street, the city was given over to 
 luxury, pleasure, ostentation. The play of man pleased 
 him less than his work. They rushed up here the 
 fortunate ones each day, as soon as they could escape 
 from the sweat down below. And the sweat of the
 
 THE REAL WORLD 261 
 
 machine-made work went on more fiercely as man strug 
 gled harder and harder to get up here. . . . 
 
 The business of the day came back to his mind in the 
 shape of the persons concerned, Ned Mather, the old 
 General, Isabelle Mather, the Cushings, Stevenson. In 
 the dead air of the city they seemed to move wearily, 
 mechanically. The girl alone had animation, the 
 woman whose face he had seen flushed with joy and 
 pride because she loved Frank Mason. Some day he 
 should have to see Mason and tell him that he had been 
 weak once too often. The girl had not married him; 
 perhaps she had learned to know his nature before this. 
 So much the better ! . Now it was time to dine.
 
 CHAPTER H 
 
 "HELLO, Jack, if it is Jack!" 
 
 Pemberton looked suspiciously at the woman who ac 
 costed him at the exit of a Broadway theatre. 
 
 " Well, what is it ? " he asked cautiously. 
 
 " Go long, you know me Stella ? I was with your 
 brother up Harlem way. Kemember ? " 
 
 "Perfectly," Jack replied, with a slight increase of 
 animation. " How have you been ? " 
 
 " Up and down mostly down, I guess." 
 
 She seemed anxious to detain him, and Jack suggested 
 that they walk on. He was aware that people were look 
 ing at them ; three years of New York had taught him 
 to read this form of curiosity. 
 
 " Have you seen Steve lately ? " Stella asked, pulling 
 a small cape about her shoulders and assuming her theat 
 rical stride. 
 
 " Not for about a year. He left New York, you know. 
 Got a place in Cleveland. He doesn't write often." 
 
 " You didn't know, then, that he is in trouble ? " 
 
 "No," Jack answered slowly, looking at Stella with 
 fresh suspicion. " He usually lets me know on such oc 
 casions." 
 
 The last one had cost him two hundred dollars. 
 262
 
 THE REAL WOULD 263 
 
 "He's been pulled last Monday, and I guess it's 
 awful bad." 
 
 They were passing a small restaurant, and Jack, who 
 foresaw that the tale might be a long one, invited Stella 
 to have supper with him. She followed him rather 
 timidly, and ordered her supper with an interested, but 
 subdued, air. She had grown stout, and her face was 
 slightly flabby. The plain black skirt and soiled silk 
 waist had the air of being sole possessions. The straw 
 hat, in spite of some new velvet, was shabby. She took 
 this off, as if conscious of its defects, and, having patted 
 her hair, looked dumbly across the table at Jack. 
 
 " How did you learn this ? " Jack asked. 
 
 "He came to my room when he brought up in New 
 York. I'm living with Liddy over on Sixth Avenue. 
 We've been there " 
 
 " So Steve is in New York ? " Jack interrupted. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "How long?" 
 
 " Most a month, I guess, before they tracked him." 
 
 Who tracked him ? " 
 
 "The detectives." 
 
 Jack ceased questioning the woman, who grew more 
 timid, and ate furtively with an awkward display of her 
 good manners. He hesitated before probing farther, a 
 sickening feeling of impending misfortune tempting 
 him to put the woman off, to escape the unpleasant truth 
 as long as he could. Finally, as Stella ceased to eat 
 and looked at him expectantly, he said : 
 
 "Well, what of it?"
 
 264 THE REAL WORLD 
 
 " Steve told me to see you as soon as I could he 
 thought maybe you could do something. But I lost the 
 address, and I was waiting for a chance to see him 
 again " 
 
 She rambled on disconnectedly, while Jack thought. 
 
 " What was it ? " he asked finally. 
 
 " I don't just know," Stella replied, dropping her eyes. 
 " Money, I guess he took some he'd a long talk about 
 it but I guess that's it. It's generally that with Steve." 
 
 "Yes, it's generally that with Steve," Jack repeated. 
 How much ? " 
 
 " A lot more than ever before," Stella admitted 
 slowly. 
 
 Jack laughed. 
 
 " You will do something ? " Stella asked anxiously. 
 
 " What do you care whether I do or not ? " Jack asked 
 roughly. 
 
 " Of course I care," Stella cried, bridling, and for the 
 first time showing confidence. "Steve's been hard on 
 me, left me when I was in trouble, but I don't want him 
 to go to prison. Do you want your brother in the 
 penitentiary ? " 
 
 Jack moved nervously at the woman's plain words. 
 Seeing her advantage, Stella pushed on. 
 
 "Steve's foolish, foolisher than most. He always 
 will have a good time whether he's got the stuff or not ; 
 but he is generous and freehanded when he's got any 
 thing. He's his own worst enemy ! " she proclaimed 
 finally, as a convincing argument. "I often said to 
 him, 'You're nobody's enemy, Steve, but your own!'"
 
 THE REAL WORLD 265 
 
 Her plea had little apparent effect upon Jack, who 
 played absently with the forks and spoons on the table. 
 Stella exclaimed : 
 
 " You won't let your brother go to prison ! " 
 
 " I don't know what I shall do," Jack answered irri 
 tably, rising from the table. Stella hastily put on her 
 hat and followed him closely into the street. She seemed 
 determined not to let him escape without some promise. 
 
 "What's he done for you?" Jack asked abruptly, 
 when they had reached the sidewalk. 
 
 Stella reddened and did not answer. Jack continued 
 brusquely : 
 
 " What did he do when your child came ? " 
 
 "He couldn't do much, his pay was all tied up, 
 but he sent me a little money now and then, when he 
 had anything, and he used to bring the baby beautiful 
 presents. Steve's generous. Nobody can say Steve ain't 
 generous." 
 
 She clung to her idea of Steve's magnanimity, esti 
 mating, in feminine fashion, good-will as a large part of 
 generosity. 
 
 "Very generous!" Jack repeated ironically. "He 
 left you and went to Cleveland. Did he send you any 
 thing?" 
 
 " You know he couldn't stay here ! He was pestered 
 with debts, couldn't walk out on the streets, and the 
 folks he owed money to bothered his firm. What could 
 he do ? Steve ain't as successful as some men who look 
 after themselves mighty welll" she concluded sus 
 piciously.
 
 266 THE REAL WORLD 
 
 " Where's your child ? " 
 
 " Up country with Liddy's folks." 
 
 "Do you ever want to see it ? " 
 
 " I had it back last fall for a time, but I couldn't do 
 nothing with it," she explained heavily. 
 
 "My dear Stella," Jack resumed, after they had 
 walked a block in silence, "Steve is absolutely worth 
 less. He is one of the weakest and most selfish men 
 you have ever seen. It's the luckiest thing that ever 
 happened to you that he hadn't the decency to marry 
 you. Now, I advise you to shake him once for all, and 
 do the best you can with the child. He will never do any 
 thing for it or for you, and he will always think he is 
 doing something, or that the world is so hard on him he's 
 never had a chance. Take my advice, and thank God 
 he's locked up where he can't trouble you." 
 
 "So you're going to let your brother go to prison!" 
 Stella retorted sullenly. " You're a nice one ! " 
 
 "I don't know what I am going to do," Jack said 
 wearily. " I shan't know to-night, so you had better let 
 me see you home." 
 
 They walked another block, and then Stella said timidly, 
 " I guess you needn't trouble to come along any further ; 
 I've got an errand " 
 
 The late passers-by turned their heads, stared curiously 
 at the two, and then hurried on. Jack buttoned up his 
 overcoat. 
 
 "Good night, Stella. Kemember what I said about 
 Steve. It's true dead true, every word." 
 
 "Mayn't I come to see you to-morrow?" she asked.
 
 THE REAL WORLD 267 
 
 " Maybe you'll feel different. I'll go to your office any 
 time you say, and then I can see Steve and make him 
 easy." 
 
 " Not at the office," Jack replied ; " I'll meet you where 
 we had supper, after the theatre." 
 
 Stella started up the cross-street. Jack watched 
 her for a block, and then strolled on to his boarding- 
 house. 
 
 The next morning he had not made up his mind whether 
 he should pay any attention to Stella's tale or not. Dur 
 ing the forenoon, however, he was forced to make some 
 decision. An emissary from Steve, in the form of one of 
 the scavengers who haunt criminal courts, called upon 
 him. He was young, bald, sallow, and dirty. He laid 
 his card upon Jack's desk with a flourish. It read, G. 
 Linepecker. 
 
 " I have been requested by my client, Mr. Pemberton, 
 to confer with you." 
 
 Jack eyed the cheap little lawyer, and asked, " How 
 much is it this time, Mr. Linepecker ? " 
 
 The criminal lawyer, understanding the professional 
 competency of his client's brother, replied without hesi 
 tation : 
 
 " Thirty-two hundred and fifty-six dollars on the origi 
 nal draft, and court expenses, fees, incidentals, you under 
 stand." He waved his hand vaguely. 
 
 " Say thirty-seven hundred," Jack suggested, with a 
 smile. " And the charge ? " 
 
 " Embezzlement." 
 
 The little lawyer looked at the other young man, and
 
 268 THE KEAL WORLD 
 
 then glanced about the well-appointed office. After allow 
 ing Jack a decent time for reflection, he added : 
 
 " They expect to get the requisition papers to-morrow." 
 
 " Very well, Mr. Linepecker. You may tell your client 
 I will see him this noon. Good morning." 
 
 And the little lawyer, who had planned a more com 
 plex method of arrangement, found himself in the outer 
 office. 
 
 The talk between the two brothers was brief. Jack's 
 one object was to find out all the facts, and Steve, who 
 was in a very nervous condition, was only too eager to tell 
 his story. He had been given the draft by the treasurer 
 of the company, in a somewhat irregular fashion, Jack 
 surmised that it was for purposes which could not con 
 veniently appear on the books of the company, and had 
 cashed it, while drunk. When, after a few days, he had 
 found himself in New York, he possessed neither draft 
 nor money. Then, foolishly, he had gone into hiding at 
 Stella's rooms. 
 
 " But if they try to push me into prison, I'll make it 
 hot for 'em. I'll tell what they drew the draft for. I'll 
 make a stink " 
 
 Jack waved his hand in cool disgust. 
 
 " Have they an office here ? " he asked. 
 
 Having found out that the President and General 
 Manager of the Celina Iron Works had his office in New 
 York, Jack next went to find him. On the door of the 
 suite of offices had been painted in large letters above 
 The Celina Wire Works, THE GUSHING STEEL WOBKS 
 COMPANY. The name recalled to Jack's mind a detail
 
 THE REAL WORLD 269 
 
 of the Greenacre failure, in which E. P. Gushing was 
 also interested. 
 
 The manager, to whom Jack explained his errand, 
 seemed anxious " to arrange the matter," as he phrased 
 it Pemberton was a very able business man, he said, 
 valuable to his company, and they had done what they 
 could for him in New York, until his habits had become 
 too bad to endure. Then they had started him afresh at 
 the Cleveland agency, in hopes that he would sober 
 down. But this matter of the draft was too serious to 
 pass over ; moreover, he could not if he would, for he 
 was responsible to the Gushing Company board of direc 
 tors. In reply to Jack's question, he admitted that if 
 the money were returned, legal action would be stopped ; 
 indeed, if a considerable portion of the money were re 
 turned, they would not press the matter, Pemberton's 
 long connection with the business being taken into con 
 sideration, their dislike of publicity, etc., etc. There 
 ensued a long pause, which Jack broke. 
 
 " May I ask what is the amount you would accept ? n 
 
 The manager looked the young man over keenly. 
 
 " You are a lawyer ? " 
 
 Jack nodded. 
 
 " On a salary, I suppose ? n 
 
 Jack nodded again. 
 
 " Suppose we say one half ? " he suggested blithely. 
 
 Instead of replying directly, Jack asked : 
 
 " There were circumstances connected with the use of 
 this money that make it convenient for your company to 
 have the matter dropped ? "
 
 270 THE REAL WORLD 
 
 This opened a long discussion, during which Jack 
 found that the company had other charges against Steve 
 of misappropriation of money. 
 
 " You needn't think you've got a club," the manager 
 concluded roughly. " I've given your brother good terms, 
 and I'll let you have two days to make up your mind." 
 
 "If we settle the matter," Jack replied curtly, "it 
 will be for the entire amount. I don't care to take your 
 terms. As for the other charges, you know well enough 
 that they won't stand in law, and I doubt if ethically 
 they're sound. Your company knew what my brother 
 was doing with some of that money, junketing firms and 
 individuals you hoped to get orders from. You kept 
 him on because he was a good man to do that kind of 
 thing. People like to paint the town with him, and he 
 knows how to fix men without offending them. So far 
 as your company is concerned, I don't give a damn 
 whether you lose the money or not, or rather I should 
 like to see you lose that and a lot more. It comes down 
 to the question whether I want to see my brother in 
 prison or not." 
 
 " Just that ! " the manager assented, with a shrug for 
 Jack's opinion of his company's methods. 
 
 " And I have forty-eight hours ? " 
 
 "That's what I said." 
 
 When he left the manager's office, Jack was no nearer 
 a solution of the question than before. During the after 
 noon, while he was busy in his office, his mind reverted 
 to Steve's case; and he carried it, still unsolved, to his 
 lonely dinner at a restaurant. Should he pay ? Could
 
 THE KEAL WOKLD 271 
 
 he pay? He could get the money. His firm would 
 advance him something, Stevenson would lend him 
 some more, and he had a few hundreds of dollars in 
 the bank. It would be placing a very large mortgage 
 on his life, one that would weight him heavily just now, 
 when he needed every sinew for the mad struggle in 
 New York. Moreover, it would make it impossible for 
 him to do what he planned for Mary, for his mother, 
 who were more or less discontented in their position at 
 Coffin's Falls. Of course he knew what their wish would 
 be anything to save Steve, to save the family disgrace. 
 
 He came to this theme with his coffee, and pondered 
 while he sipped it and watched the people around him. 
 As a lawyer he had reason to know what strength, as a 
 human motive, this desire to avoid disgrace had with 
 people in his position. It kept two adulterous people 
 in the bonds of matrimony; it drove a young girl to 
 fulfil the void engagement of her heart, made in igno 
 rance and trust ; it forced the old to beggar themselves 
 and their dependents for the sake of avoiding public 
 comment upon a worthless child. His judgment resented 
 the folly of it ; his heart hated the hypocrisy of it. In 
 this queer world of shadows, of wooden dummies, of 
 empty cries, of shadowy desires and hopes and fears, it 
 seemed to him some daylight might shine, should people 
 be but honest to themselves, to others. And his pro 
 fession was concerned very largely with the dishonest 
 compromises men make to avoid disgrace. 
 
 Clearly, as he judged himself, as he judged the world, 
 Steve ought to take the penalty of his weak acts. If
 
 272 THE REAL WORLD 
 
 there were such a thing as responsibility, if there were 
 any law in this whirligig of illusion, man must pay for 
 his acts, and pay what society demanded. Why should 
 one escape and another pay ? He need but glance at the 
 evening paper to read the names of those who paid. And 
 he had been spending his day in seeking means by which 
 one favored individual could escape from the conse 
 quences of his dishonor. No! that was the injustice 
 that would wreck the present kind of civilization which 
 man gloried in; that was the injustice that made life 
 insane, incomprehensible. 
 
 Instead of going to the theatre, as he had intended, he 
 strolled about the streets, thinking, thinking vaguely 
 and comprehensively, as he could think best within 
 sound of the human roar of the city, within touch of 
 the passing multitude. If Steve went to prison, within 
 forty-eight hours every man or woman he knew would 
 have a chance to know the fact and to say his say about 
 him. To a young man, no matter how well he might 
 stand with his neighbors, this was not only unpleasant, 
 but harmful. Yet the thought of it merely strayed 
 through his mind, and was dismissed contemptuously. 
 He had lived through worse things than scandal ! They 
 might say their say, and he would outlive their chatter. 
 
 His mother and sister, his uncle and aunt, would suffer. 
 Where was his affection, they would cry, accusingly, 
 he, the only strong one, to let the weak go down without 
 stretching out his hand ? Had he any affection ? Not 
 much, it must be confessed. He was not a person of easy 
 affections, and he did not admit conventional claims. His
 
 THE REAL WORLD 273 
 
 life had been solitary, and he had not got the habit of 
 easily flaming sympathy. He had never liked to be with 
 Steve for any considerable length of time, and he had a 
 thorough contempt for his way of life. Indeed, he had 
 more affection for Stella that weak and faded soul 
 little as he had seen her, than he had ever had for Steve. 
 So, if he stretched out the hand, it would be in pity 
 for Stella, for his mother and sister, for all the weak ones, 
 who would weep their weak and futile tears. . . . 
 
 He must decide before he saw Stella at the restaurant, 
 and he would decide, not let himself be pushed by some 
 impulse this way or that. And that decision came, little 
 by little, as he tramped the crowded streets, the hard 
 lines of determination forming themselves from the float 
 ing impressions, the vague feelings for right and justice 
 and order, that make the nebulous world in which man 
 lives, and as they shaped themselves, he felt a certain 
 conscious relief and calm. 
 
 He would not interfere. 
 
 Stella was waiting at the corner, studying the display 
 of lobsters and game in the window of the restaurant. 
 The pheasants, the empty champagne bottles, the big red 
 shellfish, had a certain symbolical significance to her : she 
 was reflecting. 
 
 Jack, who had noticed her interest in the window, 
 ordered the best supper he could think of, and while they 
 waited, they talked about the theatres, especially about a 
 new ballet that was being imported from London at great 
 expense. When the supper came, Stella devoted herself
 
 274 THE REAL WORLD 
 
 to her fish and game. Finally, when she had satisfied the 
 first relish of her appetite, she looked across the table at 
 Jack. 
 
 " You've seen Steve ? n 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Is it very bad?" 
 
 He nodded. 
 
 "Noway out?" 
 
 " One way they'll let him off if a part of the money 
 is paid back." 
 
 Stella's eyes fell. She knew that it was a large sum. 
 
 " Can you raise it ? " she asked at length. 
 
 "I might," Jack answered, and she waited, her lips 
 open in eager anticipation. 
 
 " But," he said slowly, " I shan't try. Steve's got to 
 take his punishment this time." 
 
 Stella began to eat, mechanically, with little appetite. 
 
 " So, he's got to go to prison ? " she asked, and then, 
 with rising voice, "So you're going to let him go to 
 prison ! You're a nice brother, you are." 
 
 The people at the next table looked at the two with 
 interest, but Jack was too much absorbed to notice them. 
 He tried to calm the woman, to give her his reasons in 
 the simplest form, and she listened truculently. 
 
 " I had rather do what I can for you, and Steve's child," 
 he concluded. "I can do a little of Steve's work for 
 him, and later, when he's had his lesson, perhaps he'll 
 try to be a little more of a man and do it himself." 
 
 "I don't want your dirty money," Stella cried. "I 
 wish I had the ten dollars you gave me yesterday. I'd
 
 THE REAL WORLD 275 
 
 rather " But a threatening look from Jack calmed 
 her, and she contented herself with tears, ineffectively 
 mopping her eyes with her handkerchief. 
 
 "As you like," Jack answered impatiently. "You 
 must take it for the baby, anyway. But we'll see about 
 that later. Perhaps you'll feel differently then." 
 
 " I'll never feel any different," she shot out angrily. 
 " I ain't a cold-blooded brute, who'll see his own family 
 in trouble, and talk and talk, and reason up and down 
 hill. I have some feelings. Steve has some feelings, 
 too. He wouldn't let a friend, let alone a brother, go to 
 prison if he could help it." 
 
 "The trouble is he can never help anything," Jack 
 interposed wearily. 
 
 " Well, I'll stick to him, if he is down," she ended, and 
 pushed back her chair. "I don't want nothing more. 
 Nor of you, either. Steve's got a few friends, and I 
 guess I'll see if some folks haven't more heart than a 
 brother." 
 
 She flitted up the street, tossing the last taunt over 
 her shoulder.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 JACK folded the newspaper and laid it to one side. 
 The announcement of Steve's embezzlement and arrest 
 was very brief; more important affairs in the great 
 metropolis rendered this petty crime insignificant to the 
 city editors. The five-line paragraph was salient enough, 
 however, to penetrate to every town in the United States 
 where the Pemberton name was known. It was a record, 
 in a way more inexpugnable than the verdict of the 
 court. 
 
 Jack had spent the evening before with his sister, 
 who had come from Coffin's Falls for the one pur 
 pose of inducing him to raise the necessary money 
 and release Steve. Previously he had spent a bitter 
 hour with Steve. They had not shaken his resolution ; 
 but their entreaties, their reproaches, their distress, 
 haunted him. When he had read the newspaper para 
 graph this morning, he had gone over the stony road of 
 his resolution once more, and although he had come to 
 the same conclusion, his mind was dull and sore. 
 
 Late in the morning Mr. Hodder sent for Jack. In 
 the private office of the senior member of the firm were 
 General Mather and his daughter. Jack bowed to the 
 latter, and Mr. Hodder remarked : 
 
 " General Mather, Mr. Pemberton. Mr. Pemberton 
 276
 
 THE REAL WORLD 277 
 
 knows more than I do of this affair. He will be able 
 to answer your questions. I am sorry Mr. Kimball is 
 out of the country. But you can trust Mr. Pemberton's 
 discretion and ability." 
 
 After this introduction there was a pause, and Jack 
 looked at General Mather with some curiosity. General 
 Mather was tall and lean, almost gaunt, and his thin 
 shoulders had begun to bend. The white flesh of his 
 face was sparsely covered with a snow-white beard. 
 Even in the warm office he kept his long overcoat tightly 
 buttoned, and his long, thin hands trembled as from 
 cold or the palsy of age. His blue eyes, steel-blue like 
 his daughter's, gleamed from the sunken sockets with 
 remarkable power. He was old and frail and wasted, 
 but he was as shrewd as ever. When he spoke, his tones 
 were as cold as his eyes. He seemed indifferent, if not 
 annoyed, and Jack could feel that he disliked to deal 
 with a young man. 
 
 " Can you tell General Mather what this new compli 
 cation is which retards the final settlement of the Green- 
 acre case ? " the older lawyer asked. " I have not looked 
 into the matter since my return." 
 
 " Mr. Kimball, before his departure, arranged a basis 
 of settlement with the various interests that was appar 
 ently satisfactory," Jack began, rather nervously. 
 
 General Mather nodded, and said gruffly : 
 
 " I supposed that ended it. It was bad enough ! But 
 my daughter heard from Mrs. Gushing that there was a 
 sequel. Just what is it ? " 
 
 "There was only one point left in abeyance at the
 
 278 THE REAL WORLD 
 
 time of settlement," Jack continued slowly, following 
 the old man's eyes, " and that, it was supposed, would 
 be privately settled by the parties especially inter 
 ested." 
 
 "Young Mason's share," General Mather filled in 
 grimly. 
 
 Jack nodded, and hesitated in embarrassment. The 
 tall young woman, who had sat motionless all this 
 time, leaned forward, and Jack could feel her intense 
 expectancy. 
 
 "Only yesterday," Jack continued, searching for 
 periphrases, "I had a letter from Mr. Gushing, which 
 makes it clear that the expected arrangement will not 
 be possible." 
 
 Mr. Hodder at this point excused himself and left the 
 office. Then the others breathed more easily. 
 
 "I understand you to mean that Gushing refuses to 
 pull his brother-in-law out of prison," General Mather 
 observed clearly. 
 
 Miss Mather's lips trembled. She was on the point 
 of asking a question, and finally she summoned her 
 courage : 
 
 " Where is he, Mr. Pemberton ? " 
 
 Jack, who looked at her closely for the first time, 
 answered gently: 
 
 " His friends have thought best to have him out of the 
 way until the matter could be adjusted." 
 
 " Oh ! " the woman exclaimed. And then, summoning 
 her courage again, she asked with an evident effort: 
 " You mean that he could not, it would not be safe ? "
 
 THE REAL WORLD 279 
 
 "He would probably be arrested, if he appeared in 
 New York," Jack explained firmly. 
 
 "And if if Mr. Gushing refuses; if the thing can't 
 be settled " 
 
 "He could never come back here," Jack completed, 
 with the same directness. 
 
 General Mather, who had risen and walked to the 
 bookcases, turned and shot a cold glance at his daughter. 
 
 " I told you, Isabelle ! He is a thorough rascal. You 
 can speak openly, Mr. Pemberton. I wish my daughter 
 to know the whole thing the whole thing." 
 
 He took his seat again, and there was a period of 
 silence before Miss Mather spoke. She looked at Jack, 
 with the pain of her broken pride written plainly on her 
 face. "Yes, I want to know just what it was. You 
 need not consider my feelings, Mr. Pemberton." 
 
 Her manner appealed to Jack. He liked her direct 
 ness, her simplicity, her mastered pride ; and he resolved 
 to do exactly what she asked, hurt as it might. 
 
 " Briefly," he said, " the story is this. When Mr. 
 Kiinball went into the affairs of the firm, he found them 
 badly involved. That is a polite word for very tricky 
 bookkeeping. There were several sets of books, and in 
 the end we suspect that Mr. Greenacre had another set 
 which would be more enlightening if we could come at 
 it which he kept in his head. It took the accountants 
 several weeks to get any idea of the conditions, and new 
 liabilities were constantly turning up. In short, the firm 
 had engaged in every kind of enterprise, and had done 
 things not countenanced by conservative, or, we may
 
 280 THE EEAL WORLD 
 
 say, honest, business. Greenacre was a bad lot, in 
 short." 
 
 Miss Mather followed every word, studying Jack's face 
 as if to read there more than he said. At his character 
 ization of Greenacre, the General smiled faintly. 
 
 " At the very end," Jack continued, " when we thought 
 we had straightened the tangle out, we found that certain 
 securities belonging to a customer had disappeared." 
 
 Miss Mather nodded impatiently. 
 
 "Later those securities were traced; they had been 
 negotiated." 
 
 " He had taken them ? " Miss Mather said, in vague 
 question. 
 
 " That I do not say," Jack hastened to reply. " The 
 circumstance was peculiar. It seems that two days 
 before the assignment an old customer of the firm 
 brought in some bonds, which were to be used as col 
 lateral for a loan the customer desired to make. Although 
 the firm was then in trouble, and we have reason to 
 believe that Mr. Mason knew it would suspend, he re 
 ceived the bonds." 
 
 Miss Mather sighed, and Jack hastened to add : 
 
 "There was nothing exceptional in that part of the 
 story. It was late when the bonds were delivered, per 
 sonally, into Mr. Mason's hands; and though the safe 
 was closed at the time, he received them, and gave the 
 firm's receipt." 
 
 Jack paused a moment, and then continued : 
 
 " The bonds were never deposited in the safe ; they 
 disappeared. Greenacre claims that he never saw them.
 
 THE REAL WORLD 281 
 
 At all events, in the eyes of the law Mason is the re 
 sponsible person, and he has not attempted to deny his 
 responsibility. I believe, myself," he added hastily, 
 " that Greenacre's connection with this part of the affair 
 will never be known. However, as it stands, those 
 securities must be replaced, every dollar, or " 
 
 He waited, but as neither the General nor Miss Mather 
 spoke, he explained : 
 
 " You see, they were not assets of the firm ; they were 
 private funds deposited in their charge. Just as if I 
 gave your father my purse to keep while I " 
 
 Miss Mather stopped him with a sudden gesture. She 
 understood. As the story was finished, General Mather 
 observed in his dry, distant manner : 
 
 " You have stated the facts very well, Mr. Pemberton. 
 My daughter insisted on coming here, although I could 
 have told her the sum of what you have said. I think 
 we need not take your time further, Mr. Pemberton." 
 
 Jack rose quickly to leave, but Miss Mather detained 
 him. 
 
 " You say that Mr. Gushing refuses ? " she asked. 
 
 " He will do nothing ; he leaves it to his wife ; and I 
 suppose that Mrs. Gushing will hardly be able to pay the 
 amount without her husband's help." 
 
 " It is a very large sum ? " she asked timidly. 
 
 " Oh ! I don't remember exactly about forty-five thou 
 sand dollars, possibly a few thousand more under fifty." 
 
 " Elsio never could pay it," Miss Mather remarked. 
 
 Suddenly she turned to her father, and asked him to 
 wait for her in the next room.
 
 282 THE REAL WORLD 
 
 " I want to ask Mr. Pemberton some questions," she 
 explained briefly. 
 
 "Certainly," the General assented, as if tired of the 
 whole affair. 
 
 When Jack returned from showing the General to 
 his own office, Miss Mather was standing with her 
 back to him. When she turned, she made no attempt 
 to hide her tears. Jack pushed forward a chair and 
 waited. 
 
 " You think he really stole ? " she asked at last " I 
 mean that he knew what he was doing." 
 
 " Yes, I think we must assume that a man of his years 
 knew that he was doing something illegal when he hy 
 pothecated the securities. I suspect that Greenacre con 
 nived at it, perhaps encouraged it ; that we shall never 
 know. Greenacre is a clever rascal. But no matter what 
 Greenacre's share may have been, the fact remains that 
 Mr. Mason first received the bonds and, I fear, never 
 deposited them in the safe. He must have known enough 
 business to realize what he was doing. Why, a child 
 would have known that ! " 
 
 " You do not give him the advantage of a single doubt ! 
 You condemn him unheard. I want to hear his defence," 
 she protested, with spirit. 
 
 " Why isn't he here, then ? " Jack suggested quietly. 
 " Why hasn't he made at least an intelligible statement of 
 his acts, instead of leaving it to his friends to compromise 
 or settle as best they can ? " 
 
 The last shadow of hope faded from Miss Mather's 
 face. Jack sat waiting, sincerely miserable for her.
 
 THE REAL WORLD 283 
 
 " Thank you," she said. " You are right. It is good 
 to know all, the whole wretched story." 
 
 After another pause she asked : 
 
 " And he must go to prison ? " 
 
 "Not necessarily. He won't come back until it's 
 patched up, I suppose." 
 
 " You haven't any sympathy with patching it up ? " she 
 demanded quickly. 
 
 Jack shook his head. 
 
 " A lot of harm is done that way," he answered, firmly 
 convinced about this point from recent experience. 
 
 "But why shouldn't he have another chance?" the 
 woman protested. 
 
 " To swindle some one else ? No, not necessarily that. 
 But why shouldn't the others, the thousands and thou 
 sands who can't make ' settlements ' and ' compromises ' 
 and ' arrangements ' ; who haven't rich and influential 
 relatives and friends that are afraid of the disgrace, 
 why shouldn't they escape their sins, too ? " 
 
 The heat of his words breathed an animus, a hatred of 
 privilege, of class. 
 
 " You would let Frank go to prison just because the 
 next sinner had to go ? " she asked reproachfully. 
 
 " It isn't my place to judge this case, Miss Mather," 
 Jack responded, after a time. " I shall do what I can to 
 make a settlement. I have already begun negotiations 
 with the parties interested to get their consent to accept 
 less than the full amount, say thirty thousand dollars, or 
 even twenty-five, and I shall write Mrs. Gushing when I 
 have heard from them. If you ask my private opinion,
 
 284 THE REAL WORLD 
 
 I must say frankly that I don't like this business, this 
 compromising." 
 
 " I mustn't take more of your time," she said, rising. 
 " You have been really kind." 
 
 " I wish I could do something ! " the young lawyer ex 
 claimed. The woman's suffering, the old appeal that 
 always touched his heart, made him miserable. He re 
 gretted his plain words, and he added gently : " I know 
 what it is to you. No one can help you." 
 
 " No," she said, with a little smile of gratitude for his 
 sympathy. " No one can help me. It is worse than you 
 know, than a man can know." 
 
 "Yes," he assented. 
 
 " I do not want you to believe that I I love him as 
 you think," she added hastily, with a burst of frankness, 
 a need for telling the exact truth of her heart. " After 
 these years, after knowing all, that would be impossible, 
 the romance, I mean, the looking up, which is so much 
 to a woman. But I want to save him ! " she ended, with a 
 sudden cry, " to save him from himself. Poor Frank ! " 
 
 Her face was no longer cold, indifferent, as he had 
 always thought it. The years that she had suffered had 
 broken her little reserves, her little pride, and she was 
 neither conscious nor ashamed in revealing her intimate 
 pain. When she spoke of her present feeling for Frank, 
 Jack's heart responded with sympathy and admiration. 
 He remembered the afternoon at Riverside, when he had 
 come upon her and Mason in the little pavilion, surpris 
 ing her in the first flush of her love. Between that face 
 and this one there had been painful years, honestly and
 
 THE BBAL WORLD 285 
 
 bravely lived, with a steadfast purpose. The fineness of 
 race, which she had from her father, united with a fine 
 ness of spirit, which was her own. 
 
 " I will do my utmost to save him," Jack responded 
 warmly, in his desire to comfort her. "Mrs. Gushing 
 can't let this this scandal happen." 
 
 " I didn't mean that," Miss Mather answered quickly. 
 " But yes, he must be freed from the disgrace, too. You 
 see a woman, Mr. Pemberton, can't take your stern view 
 of it, especially when the woman has loved." 
 
 "Well, I shall make every effort. I will write Mrs. 
 Gushing to-day," he said warmly. 
 
 " Do you see Elsie ? " Miss Mather asked. 
 
 "Occasionally," the young lawyer answered in a matter- 
 of-fact voice. " She has been abroad a great deal these 
 last years." 
 
 " She is pleasure-loving, like him," Miss Mather mused. 
 
 u Yes," he replied, " but she is stronger than he is." 
 
 " Or hasn't been put to the proof." 
 
 " That we cannot say," he responded gently. 
 
 There was nothing further to be said, and he waited 
 for her to take leave. But she had something on her 
 mind which caused her to linger, trying to overcome her 
 shyness. 
 
 " You haven't been at the Keck for a long while," she 
 observed. 
 
 "I have not taken a vacation since I came to New York." 
 
 "Mrs. Betts, you remember her ? died winter before 
 last." 
 
 " My aunt wrote me."
 
 286 THE HEAL WORLD 
 
 "He married again last year, a woman from Kock- 
 land." 
 
 She was thinking probably of his promise to the sick 
 woman. He had not forgotten it, but he refused to be 
 drawn out. This meeting was essentially a business 
 matter, and he never made concessions to the social sides 
 of his profession. As they shook hands, Miss Mather 
 asked him to call upon her while she was in New York, 
 and he promised to do so. 
 
 " I will bring you news very soon." 
 
 In the other office Mr. Hodder was telling General 
 Mather some story. But the General rose with alacrity 
 at sight of his daughter, and bowing to Jack, shook 
 hands formally with the older lawyer and left. As Jack 
 sat down at his desk, he noticed that the morning paper 
 had been unfolded and laid aside. He wondered how 
 carefully General Mather had read the page that was 
 opened before him. 
 
 "Curious old swell," Mr. Hodder remarked to the 
 younger lawyer, looking at his watch. "You handled 
 that very well, Pemberton. I thought we should have a 
 scene. I gather that he brought his daughter here to let 
 her hear the worst, and he is not sorry to have the rela 
 tionship broken. I don't believe the Mathers fancied the 
 least bit her marrying Mason." 
 
 "No, I guess not," Jack assented. 
 
 "An American mesalliance," Mr. Hodder summed up 
 neatly. " Won't you lunch with me at the Union ? " 
 
 As the two men left the office, Mr. Hodder remarked 
 casually :
 
 THE REAL WORLD 287 
 
 " I see by the paper that some one of your name has 
 been getting into trouble." 
 
 " My brother," Jack answered steadily. 
 
 The older lawyer took Jack's arm as they crossed the 
 hall to the elevator. 
 
 " I'm sorry, my boy," he said simply.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 As Jack had told Miss Mather, he had seen Elsie occa 
 sionally. The first months of his life in New York he 
 had been afraid of meeting her, and yet whenever he was 
 where she might possibly be found he had looked for her 
 with a furtive desire to see her, to hear from her. But 
 New York, especially for an utterly unknown young man 
 who spends his days on the thirteenth floor of a Nassau 
 Street building and his nights in an Irving Place board 
 ing-house, is a continent in itself. The few times he had 
 met Frank Mason or Ned Mather, the only men he knew 
 who were likely to see Elsie, he had heard nothing of 
 her. His other friends were young men like himself, very 
 near the bottom of the ladder, some reporting for the 
 newspapers, one engaged in the routine of magazine edit 
 ing, others nursing their infant practice in the newer sec 
 tions of the great city, still more with tiny homes far out 
 on some of the innumerable suburban radii. They met 
 at their college club, or at luncheon down town, or at the 
 theatre. None of them had opportunities of knowing 
 Mrs. Gushing. 
 
 So, what little he knew about her came from the news 
 papers, to whom she was only of minor importance, her 
 movements to be recorded in a dearth of more promi 
 nent names. The house on Madison Avenue was fre- 
 
 288
 
 THE EEAL WORLD 289 
 
 quently closed for long periods. Sometimes the name of 
 Mr. Cushing's steam yacht appeared in the papers as 
 entering or leaving a foreign port, but Mrs. Gushing was 
 not always on board. They had a place in the country 
 on Long Island, as well as the Pemberton Neck house. 
 And Elsie flitted about in the fitful manner of the imper 
 manent rich, whose numbers, ever increasing, gradually 
 form a little world for themselves, one that exists side 
 by side with the more stable world, yet rarely touches it. 
 Once, his second year in New York, he had met Elsie at 
 the Kimball's. It was a large dinner-party, and he had 
 merely touched hands with her. A few weeks afterward 
 she had asked him to dinner, and after much wavering in 
 his mind he had declined. Then he had met her coming 
 out of a picture dealer's on Fifth Avenue, and she had 
 made him stop and chat. He had promised to call and had 
 done so, much later, only to find the house closed for the 
 season. Lately she had come to the office to see Mr. Kim- 
 ball, who was her lawyer, and he had exchanged a word 
 with her while she waited for the lawyer. But they were 
 strangers, acquaintances who had once been friends, 
 and he always wished that they might not meet, neither 
 he nor Elsie being expert in conducting a conversation on 
 indifferent topics. She changed very slightly, keeping 
 marvellously the fresh tints, the bloom of a child, which 
 she had always had. Her manner, in spite of occasional 
 bursts of frankness, was much more composed. Out 
 wardly, at least, she had found that self-mastery which 
 she had lacked all the early years of their acquaintance. 
 Probably, he thought, she had made her compromise, her
 
 290 THE KEAL WORLD 
 
 arrangement with her life, and had sufficient wit and pur 
 pose to stick to it. She had always been keen, teachable; 
 and she had doubtless learned how far she could go and 
 on the whole keep where she wanted to be, a kind of 
 worldly wisdom that Jack had had no opportunity to 
 value properly. 
 
 Yet all these three years, while he was toiling in his 
 lonely fashion, with the underlying conviction that he 
 touched wood, not human flesh; that he played a dull 
 game, such as solitaire, as did others, but did not live, 
 the woman haunted his mind ! Not the present, com 
 petent Mrs. Gushing, who was like a hundred other 
 figures to be passed on the Avenue every bright after 
 noon, but the girl he had known in her first joyous 
 experiments ; the girl of ambitions, who had given him 
 the first impulse to make a world for himself, to follow 
 her. He had told her, boyishly, that he should always 
 love her! And those boyish words, now that he no 
 longer wished to think of her, seemed a prophecy from 
 which he could not escape. 
 
 Instead of replying to his letter about her brother's 
 affair, Mrs. Gushing came to the office, as Jack had half 
 expected she would do. The difficulties in which she 
 found herself solely preoccupied her. She talked quite 
 openly and without sentiment. Jack soon saw that, from 
 a totally different reason, there was as little need for 
 euphemism with Mrs. Gushing as with Miss Mather. 
 
 "It's a nasty mess all around," Mrs. Gushing said at 
 once, "and peculiarly like Frank, just feeble and
 
 THE BEAL WORLD 291 
 
 cat's-pawish, the child that's always getting into the 
 puddle. What makes it worse is, that the bonds be 
 longed to just those people of all others. They hate 
 me, and they're talking. That can't be helped. Thank 
 heavens, it takes a lot of talk to hurt me ! " 
 
 "They will be content with twenty-fire thousand, 
 and I think I can stop their mouths, somewhat," Jack 
 answered, adjusting his point of view exactly to that of 
 his client. Mrs. Gushing was familiar with these irregu 
 larities in the world in which she moved. Every family 
 had its black sheep, and the stone of gossip was scarcely 
 a safe one to raise. Instead of shrinking from the com 
 promise suggested, she asked shrewdly : 
 
 " Is that the best that can be done ? " 
 
 " The very best," Jack answered, with a smile. u They 
 have a strong case, you know, Mrs. Gushing." 
 
 "What could they do?" she asked, looking at the 
 lawyer keenly. 
 
 "They could, and undoubtedly might, discover his 
 hiding-place, and have him brought back. Then they 
 would put him in prison." 
 
 "It's the firm!" Mrs. Gushing cried. "Why aren't 
 Greenacre and young Mather in it, too?" 
 
 " I tried to explain in my first letter why your brother 
 is solely involved," Jack answered coolly. "General 
 Mather has had to pay heavily for his son's share in 
 the failure, but he has escaped without disgrace." 
 
 "Frank is such a fool!" Mrs. Gushing reflected. 
 "He had everything made "y for him, and engaged 
 to Isabelle Mather, too, nice girl, if she is slow and
 
 292 THE BEAL WORLD 
 
 old-maidish. Men are such, fools they go and do 
 something that makes a nasty row!" 
 
 Jack listened with a certain amusement to this explo 
 sion of irritation. 
 
 "But I can't get all that money I can't possibly," 
 she concluded, as if some extortion were being practised 
 upon her. " Mr. Gushing won't hear Frank's name with 
 out foaming. Besides, he's going to Japan. You know 
 we have an arrangement, and I can't get one cent more. 
 I've overdrawn already, and High Head, which he made 
 over to me, is mortgaged to the chimneys. You must 
 write them that it can't be done twenty-five thousand 
 is too much ! " 
 
 "To return fifty per cent of stolen property isn't 
 usually regarded as hard terms," Jack observed dryly. 
 " You will let the affair take its course, then ? " 
 
 " Have Frank brought back here ! Everything in the 
 papers and the trial ! Why, I might just as well move 
 out of New York for good ; and I am sick of Europe." 
 
 Jack made no suggestion. 
 
 " I wish Mr. Kimball were here ! " Mrs. Gushing ex 
 claimed in despair. " There must be some way out of 
 it!" 
 
 " If you would like to see Mr. Hodder," Jack replied, 
 rising quickly. "You must know, Mrs. Gushing, how 
 disagreeable my connection with the case has been to me. 
 It came to me through Mr. Kimball's illness, and I saw 
 no way to avoid it. Believe me, I have done the very 
 best I can for your brother." 
 
 " Of course ! Don't take it so personally, Jack Mr.
 
 THE BEAL WORLD 293 
 
 Pemberton. Only there are always ways out of these 
 scrapes. Mr. Kimball knows the world." 
 
 " As I do not," Jack admitted dryly. " But I know 
 the law, and I know that in this case there is no way out, 
 unless you are willing to pay." 
 
 " But I can't. I couldn't sell every jewel I possess for 
 half that sum. There are my pictures and the old 
 tapestries, but one can't sell such things at an hour's 
 notice." 
 
 " The bank " 
 
 Mrs. Gushing waved her hand in despair. 
 
 "And what shall we do with him afterwards? He 
 can't come back here ! There will be talk. Besides, he'll 
 get into a new mess in six months." 
 
 " There's always the West," Jack suggested. " Besides, 
 we have Porto Rico, Cuba, and the Philippines. I should 
 recommend the Philippines ; it's a long way off, and the 
 army officers are the only ones that get into trouble out 
 there." 
 
 "That might be possible," Mrs. Gushing agreed, 
 ignoring the irony of the advice. 
 
 "Well, I will go and see what I can raise," she 
 concluded, with a sigh. "Perhaps Zufeldt will give 
 me something on my pictures. You haven't seen my 
 pictures ? " she added, glad to slip to another subject. 
 "I have the best Maufras in America, and some very 
 good Monets and Fragonards. Why don't you ever come 
 to see me ? " 
 
 Jack's color rose, and he moved awkwardly in his 
 chair.
 
 294 THE BBAL WORLD 
 
 "You see, I have really good things, all the men 
 who know, say so, and my collection is worth a good 
 deal more than I paid for it. You must come and see it, 
 and the house. I've had it almost all done over. It was 
 such a fright ! I hadn't any taste when I was married. 
 I don't see how we lived in it. When will you come ? " 
 
 "Whenever you say," Jack answered, before he knew 
 what he was saying. 
 
 " Come Sunday, to luncheon," she appointed, after 
 meditating ; '' ^u. ^y that time I shall know what I can 
 do. You can put them off until Sunday, can't you? 
 That's only four days. If they are going to get all that 
 money " 
 
 "I will manage to put them off," Jack interrupted 
 shortly. 
 
 " Very well ; Sunday, at two." 
 
 She gave his hand a warm pressure, and smiled. 
 
 " It's so good to see you again, Mr. Pemberton," she 
 drawled the name, " even on this dreary occasion."
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 MRS. GUSHING had certainly developed in taste since 
 the time when she had been content with " effects " ob 
 tained by old candlesticks and pieces of faded brocade. 
 Her means, perhaps, had permitted then no further dis 
 play of sestheticism, but it took some years, after the 
 enlargement of her means by marriage, before she learned 
 to distinguish between the numerous Louis, and knew 
 that Bouguereau, her girlhood's idol, was impossible, and 
 that copies of old masters were only bought by certain 
 classes of Americans. Her renaissance in art, however, 
 when it did set in, came very fast. A young American 
 sculptor, whom she had known in his productive years 
 before his work had a market value, had introduced her 
 to some real artists. They liked her dinners ; they liked 
 still better her reckless talk and vivid wilfulness. She 
 reminded them of the happy boulevards of their youth, 
 where one said what one pleased, provided it was witty. 
 So they taught her the superficial small talk of art, and 
 amused themselves with making of her a connoisseur. 
 Her house was an agreeable one, and when she had money 
 she bought generously of their goods. In the bottom of 
 their hearts the serious men, those who painted, or 
 wrote, or thought, despised her knowledge of art, but 
 liked to flirt and talk French with their amusing hostess. 
 
 295
 
 296 THE REAL WORLD 
 
 To them she was but another form of American glibness 
 and pretension, not as dull or as vulgar as the merely 
 rich. She bought what they told her to; she said 
 picturesquely what they said soberly. And because men 
 -who had won some renown loafed at her house and called 
 her by her first name, she felt that she had made a niche 
 for herself in society, and was distinguished from the 
 hundreds of people who left cards at her door. These 
 people, who aspired for some similar kind of distinction 
 from the other hundreds, also felt that she had arrived. 
 They called her "eccentric," "artistic," "intellectual," 
 or "bohemian," according to their respective vocabu 
 laries. And those who preferred polo, or yachting, or 
 gambling, as did her husband, thought her house dull, 
 and the company one met there rather common. 
 
 Jack was ignorant of Mrs. Cushing's renaissance in 
 taste, and when he found himself the following Sunday 
 in a reception room scrupulously Empire in style, he was 
 not keenly aware of the contrast it presented to the 
 rooms in the " double-decker " above the Park. He had 
 had several minds about keeping this engagement ; and 
 had finally agreed with himself not to make excuses 
 from fear lest he should seem to take a conventional 
 invitation altogether too seriously. Besides, he supposed 
 that there would be other guests. But when Elsie ap 
 peared in a soft, white morning-gown, as fresh and as 
 enjoyable as herself, she explained negligently that they 
 were to lunch alone. 
 
 "I tried to get Isabelle and Ned," she added. "But 
 they had engagements or something. You seem to have
 
 THE HEAL WORLD 297 
 
 made a great impression on Isabelle. She asked me a 
 string of questions about you, which, of course, I couldn't 
 answer." 
 
 As Jack did not rise to her sally, she continued idly : 
 
 " Why didn't Isabelle look at you instead of Frank ! 
 You're both such solemn puritans, you would have fitted. 
 She ought to know that brother is a weak brother, and 
 always will be." 
 
 " Perhaps she does," Jack observed dryly. 
 
 " Well, then, if she wanted him, why didn't she marry 
 him years ago, instead of moping along like a young 
 widow ! " 
 
 " Possibly the General objected ? " 
 
 "No," Elsie replied impartially. "Neither the Gen 
 eral nor Eoger exactly fancied the connection, but Isa 
 belle could manage them. And there would have been 
 money enough even for Frank's idle hands. No! She 
 had some idea, a theory, that he must be successful, do 
 something first, show that he could support her at least. 
 All silly sentiment ! She might have seen he wasn't that 
 kind, and been willing to pay for him, if she wanted him. 
 But she is sentimental, like you, Jack." 
 
 She ended with this provocative fling, turning her eyes 
 full upon him. 
 
 "Do you call it sentimental to wish that the man 
 you are going to marry should show himself worthy of 
 the honor ? " Jack retorted bluntly. 
 
 "Tut, tut, friend, who is worthy of the honor of 
 Isabelle's fair hand ? " she said, mimicking his grave 
 tone. " No, it's one thing or the other. She loves him
 
 298 THE EEAL WORLD 
 
 and wants him, or doesn't love him. That's what I told 
 her two years ago when Frank made a fizzle of it in Mr. 
 Cushing's business. ' Look here, Isabelle,' I said. ' He 
 isn't nearly good enough for you ; even he can see it. 
 He is selfish, weak, and I'm afraid, deceitful. If he had 
 had any money, nobody would find all that out his 
 nice manners and parlor tricks would have carried him 
 through life. But Bushy won't do anything more for 
 him, and papa can't. It sounds brutal for me to say it, 
 but I wish you would break with him, Isabelle.' " 
 
 " And what did she answer ? " Jack asked, with curi 
 osity. 
 
 " Oh ! she drew herself up with that haughty smile, as 
 if she were teaching the vulgar what it means to be well 
 born, and said, ' Perhaps I care more for him because he 
 needs some one.' " 
 
 Elsie laughed, as she mimicked Isabelle Mather's icy 
 tones. Then she resumed : 
 
 "'Why don't you marry your baby, then,' I said. 
 'Not until he cares enough for me to make a little place 
 for himself in the world,' she answered. 'No matter 
 how I might love him ! ' So there you have her, and if 
 you can understand her, you are cleverer than I am ! " 
 
 " Do you think she cares still ? " Jack asked, remem 
 bering Isabelle Mather's proud confession in his office. 
 
 Mrs. Gushing shrugged her shoulders. 
 
 " I should say she did ! But we've spent a lot of time 
 gabbing about other people. Let's have luncheon. We'll 
 do very well by ourselves, don't you think so ? " 
 
 She smiled and patted her plump hands, quite content
 
 THE REAL WORLD 299 
 
 with the first impression she had made upon Jack, and 
 sailed softly across the hall. Her color was high, and 
 her voice buoyant. Having but just risen and had her 
 bath, she seemed to look at life with amiability and con 
 tent. She glanced about her rooms with satisfaction. 
 
 " I must show you everything after luncheon ; but the 
 dining room is the best, I think." 
 
 Jack felt that it was cool and large and dignified. He 
 did not distinguish the lovely renaissance fireplace, the 
 tapestries that concealed all but a few feet of the walls, 
 the soft gold ceiling, the rug that was one in a year's im 
 portations. Mrs. Gushing, who was watching him from 
 the door, frowned ; and with her old impulsiveness, she 
 took his arm and led him to one of the tapestries. 
 
 " That came from the Louville collection. Harry Bat- 
 terson says there isn't another such piece to be had in 
 Europe," she exclaimed impatiently. " See how soft the 
 coloring is, and it is in very good condition." 
 
 As the young lawyer's eyes roved about the room, 
 seeking to find some other point where he could show 
 intelligently the expected admiration, she called his 
 attention to the fireplace. 
 
 " Ferguson, the architect, got it for me from a palace in 
 Pisa. The figures are said to be by Arnolfo di Cambio." 
 
 She sank into a large Italian renaissance chair, and 
 motioned to him to take a similar one opposite her. 
 
 " I got these when I first went to Italy after my mar 
 riage. They aren't bad, but they are too heavy for the 
 room. I'm looking for some smaller ones. The table is 
 a beauty, isn't it ? I found it in Rome. It's the exact
 
 300 THE KEAL WORLD 
 
 form of a table in one of Veronese's pictures. The legs 
 are particularly good." 
 
 She rambled on while the servants served the luncheon. 
 Jack listened, amused at the knowing way in which she 
 displayed her information, not braggingly to impress 
 him with her luxury, but from pride in a new acquisition. 
 So far as he was concerned, the room might have been 
 done in polished cabinet work by Davenport or in imita 
 tion Flemish. A dining room was still a dining room to 
 him, and very little else. But he was keenly conscious 
 of the splendid setting the dark room, the tapestried 
 walls, the massive chair, created for the smiling woman 
 opposite him. She seemed more opulent, more sensuous 
 and commanding, than of old. Instinctively she had 
 amassed the furniture that became her bloom. 
 
 " I believe a home should express your own individu 
 ality," she said, with complacent enjoyment of the plati 
 tude, as they went upstairs to the library for their coffee. 
 " Everything here is like me, is mine" she pronounced 
 with emphasis. " I have spent days, months, in selecting 
 every article of furniture, every chair and picture and 
 rug, down to the paper-cutters on the table." 
 
 "You have succeeded," Jack responded, a little wearily. 
 
 " This is my last treasure. Stand there." 
 
 She touched the electric light, and pointed to a Kenoir, 
 the picture of a girl lying in a sun-beaten field, her 
 naked flesh strangely spotted with light. 
 
 " Hasn't that force ? Doesn't it glow ? He is a ma 
 gician, that man." 
 
 Jack, who had not risen to the higher notes of the im-
 
 THE REAL WORLD 301 
 
 pressionists, looked at it suspiciously. His untrained 
 eyes refused to enjoy the plague-spotted flesh, the me 
 tallic lustre of the fields. 
 
 "You don't like it!" Mrs. Gushing exclaimed disap 
 pointedly. " Look at my Mauf ras, then." 
 
 Thus they made the tour of the long room, and Jack 
 responded as freely as he could to the constant demand 
 for appreciation. Something made him feel that she 
 herself did not thoroughly enjoy her own treasures; 
 her mood was too restless. 
 
 " Come ! " she said at last. " The coffee will get cold, 
 and you don't care for pictures. I am boring you." 
 
 " No, not that," Jack protested. " You make me feel 
 fearfully ignorant. You have gone so far beyond me." 
 
 " One can pick it all up easily enough, if one cares," 
 she replied graciously, lighting her cigarette and handing 
 the tray to Jack. "Perhaps you don't care are too 
 serious." 
 
 " I'm afraid I'm not as quick as you are, Mrs. Cush- 
 ing." 
 
 " Why Mrs. Gushing, Mr. Pemberton ? " she asked, re 
 moving her cigarette and looking steadfastly at Jack, 
 who turned his head away to avoid an answer. " Don't 
 you like me any more than you do my house, Jack ? " 
 she persisted. 
 
 " Oh ! " he answered, with a laugh, "I always think of 
 you now as my client, Mrs. Gushing." 
 
 "Now?" she questioned, in a lower tone, "/never 
 forget." 
 
 "Nor I," he responded calmly, looking at her once
 
 302 THE BEAL WORLD 
 
 more. After the silence had grown embarrassing, he 
 added : " But I think we had best regard that as closed, 
 don't you ? " 
 
 " As you wish," she agreed briskly. But her look puz 
 zled him. With Elsie it was never as any one else 
 thought best ; it was as she thought best. 
 In a few minutes she reverted to the house. 
 " I am pleased with my things. I think I have made 
 something of my home. It isn't just a big barn where 
 some one has dumped a lot of furniture and money. 
 And I have interesting people here, too ; as interesting 
 as you find in America. They say it's a place wher 
 men talk and women listen. Don't you think that's 
 worth while ? " 
 
 " It might depend on the women." 
 " You've made up your mind not to be pleased." 
 " I am glad, indeed, you have found what you wanted." 
 "Oh! I don't say that. Only bores find what they 
 want. But I've found what a good many other people 
 want!" 
 
 Jack laughed, and looked at his watch. 
 "Oh, Frank! I had nearly forgotten brother in the 
 excitement of seeing you. I have the money." 
 
 Her cool, matter-of-fact manner jarred on the young 
 lawyer. " Will you send it to the office to-morrow ? " he 
 asked, rising. 
 
 " Why, you might as well take it now, hadn't you ? " 
 She pushed her cigarette into the ash-tray and fluttered 
 across the room to an old desk, which was laden with un 
 opened notes. After a time she found a long envelope
 
 THE REAL WORLD 303 
 
 and gave it to Jack. " There's the money, in bills," she 
 said. " We'll consider what to do with him next." 
 
 "I will count it, and give you a receipt," the lawyer 
 replied, sitting down at the smoking-table again. Mrs. 
 Gushing lit another cigarette and opened some letters, 
 while Jack drew out the bills and counted them. They 
 were five hundreds and thousands. After a time he 
 glanced up nervously, exclaiming : 
 
 "There's a mistake! The amount was twenty-five 
 thousand, and there is a good deal more here." 
 
 "Oh!" Mrs. Gushing blushed, and then answered 
 quickly : " I thought it best that the sum be paid in whole 
 not to compromise with those people. They would 
 always talk, you know." 
 
 Jack looked at her hard. He knew that she was 
 lying. Finally he began to count the bills again. 
 
 "I am very glad," he observed, still looking at her. 
 She burst into laughter, and laughed for several minutes 
 nervously. 
 
 " What's the use of fibbing I It isn't my idea at alL 
 It's Isabelle's, and the money is hers, too. / couldn't 
 get it in four days! Of course, I borrowed it; and I 
 promised Isabelle I wouldn't let any one know, not even 
 you. So you mustn't tell, will you ? She was very keen 
 that you shouldn't know. But I could see at once that 
 you suspected me." 
 
 " I shan't be likely to tell," Jack answered gravely. 
 " It is the full amount, plus the interest, to the last cent. 
 Here is a receipt, which you will return to me when you 
 have received the other receipt."
 
 304 THE HEAL WORLD 
 
 She laid the piece of paper on the cigarette tray, and 
 clasping her hands behind her head, looked coolly at the 
 man. 
 
 " Why don't you take to Isabelle, Jack ? You would 
 fit very well. You have the same prejudices ! " 
 
 " Against prevarication ? " Jack asked, holding out his 
 hand. 
 
 Mrs. Gushing laughed good-naturedly, as she gave him 
 her hand.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 NEVERTHELESS he wen again and again to the house 
 with the excuse of business or without it. For Elsie had 
 not exaggerated when she boasted that men liked her 
 house, and that one heard good talk there. To a young 
 man engaged in the solitary struggle of New York with 
 few houses where he could go for something more than 
 a meal, it was a revelation of social delights. There at 
 supper after the theatre he met men of all the profes 
 sions, and they talked, as Elsie had said, and the women 
 listened. The frequenters of the house accepted him cord 
 ially as a new recruit, and very soon his shy, taciturn 
 self-consciousness wore away. He discovered in himself 
 an unknown treasure of humor and good-fellowship, 
 which relieved the homely intellectual honesty of his 
 mind. The other men recognized his intelligence, and 
 cared little for his ignorance of aesthetic small talk. 
 
 At first he had taken himself to task for thus slipping 
 into new relations with Elsie and her world, but it came 
 about so gradually and naturally, with so many innocent 
 pretexts, that he soon forgot his scruples, or laughed at 
 them as affectations. And Elsie made no attempt to 
 recall the past. She accepted his terms laid down that 
 first Sunday afternoon, and treated him altogether as a 
 new acquaintance, whom she admitted to her circle on 
 z 305
 
 306 THE BEAL WORLD 
 
 terms of perfect equality. She flattered him by empha 
 sizing this new relationship of equality. He was asked 
 to the most interesting dinners and suppers that she 
 gave, and she honored him by according him no special 
 intimacy, no advantage over the others due to old friend 
 ship. Before, she had petted him and domineered, like 
 a privileged sister. Now she gave him what she gave 
 the world, and it pleased his pride. From her house he 
 went to others, where he was also welcomed for his own 
 sake. Thus Elsie again in his new, man's life indirectly 
 steered him and shaped the world for him. Her first 
 crude lessons at Pemberton Neck had given him the 
 desire to reach beyond the hotel ; now, more skilful and 
 subtle in her methods, she taught him to enjoy, to under 
 stand art and people and life. 
 
 For a time, moreover, he went to her house to see Isa- 
 belle Mather, who was visiting Mrs. Gushing, and asked 
 him to call. Employing many tactful feminine devices, 
 Elsie threw them together until the two stubborn natures 
 softened toward one another, understood and respected 
 each other, sharing silent sympathies unknown to Elsie's 
 positive soul. It was during this visit that Miss Mather 
 had her last meeting with her old lover, and made it 
 clear to him that he had lost all but the woman's pitying 
 contempt. Jack Pemberton, who had Mason in charge 
 during his short stay in New York, saw that the man 
 realized this as his greatest misfortune. What he had 
 always taken lightly, as a thing of course, Isabelle's 
 love for him, had melted away during the years of his 
 incapacity. And the best thing that Jack had to report
 
 THE REAL WORLD 307 
 
 of him to his sister, when he returned from seeing Mason 
 off at the steamer, was this subdued, unrebellious regret, 
 this sense of irreparable loss. " The only thing left for 
 me to do is to keep out of their way for good," he had 
 said, and Jack had nodded assent. 
 
 When Miss Mather ended her visit a few days later, 
 she asked Jack to visit her father and her at Pemberton 
 Neck. 
 
 " I shall never go back there," he replied quickly. 
 
 " Well, then, next fall at Eiverside," she persisted. 
 
 "Perhaps some time," he accepted vaguely. 
 
 A few days after Miss Mather had left, he dropped in 
 at the Madison Avenue house on his way home from his 
 office, and found Elsie alone. She had just come in from 
 a concert, one of a series given by subscription to revive 
 old music very dull, as most of the patrons confessed, 
 but instructive and intellectually praiseworthy. Some 
 of the ennui of the afternoon survived in her listless 
 attitude. She leaned forward over the blaze of the fire, 
 whipping her skirt restlessly with her long gloves. 
 Now and then she looked at the man with a slow, inquir 
 ing gaze that puzzled him. Elsie's silent moods were 
 discomforting. 
 
 "I heard from Mr. Gushing to-day," she said at last 
 " He will be home in a week. Then I suppose we shall 
 go to the country, or abroad. He wants to go to the 
 country, and I to St. Moritz, for the summer. Bushy is 
 more tolerable abroad," she burst out in her old manner. 
 
 " So you leave town soon," Jack observed.
 
 308 THE REAL WOELD 
 
 "Very soon," she answered, looking at him as she 
 had before. " And I don't want to leave this spring 
 I never wanted to leave so little ! " 
 
 He made the commonplace rejoinder demanded, and 
 she studied the fire again. Soon she exclaimed : 
 
 " Jack ! Jack, I want you to do something for me." 
 
 " What is it ? " he asked, on his guard, disturbed by 
 her troubled mood. 
 
 " Oh ! you needn't be afraid, Mr. Lawyer. It's noth 
 ing criminal. I want you to go home and dress and 
 come back for dinner. I am alone to-night, and I have 
 the creeps when I dine alone." 
 
 He offered some excuses, but she moved her hand 
 impatiently. 
 
 " Will you or will you not ? " 
 
 "I will," he answered slowly, ashamed of his own 
 nervousness. "In fact, I shall be most glad to." 
 
 When he returned, an hour later, Mrs. Gushing had 
 not come down, and he was shown to the library. He 
 had learned to like this room, to feel its warmth and 
 twilight repose. He understood a little better the 
 real value of the things it contained, although he still 
 held out against the mottled Eenoir. The man deftly 
 arranged a little table before the fire, and placed the 
 cigarettes and the evening papers by his side. Then 
 he brought some absinthe and a cocktail, and, arrang 
 ing the electric lights so that the larger part of the 
 great room was in dusk, he went out softly. Every 
 thing in Elsie's establishment moved with the utmost 
 precision and ease, creating an atmosphere absolutely
 
 THE KEAL WORLD 309 
 
 free from friction. Evidently she had understood from 
 the first that what the world needs is to be soothed, and 
 if one wishes to attract desirable people, one must give 
 them a subconscious, physical content. Then, as Jack 
 knew, she had a wonderfully good head for detail, for 
 executive management. She did not fritter away her 
 strength in petty worries. 
 
 Jack leaned back and closed his eyes, feeling, as for 
 the first time, the comfort and charm and exceeding 
 quiet of the place, which penetrated his limbs and 
 lapped him away to dreams. He had not cared for 
 atmosphere in the old days of his youth ; this sense of 
 physical peace was new and strange. It was the new 
 Elsie ! In a flash he saw her marvellous unfolding from 
 the society of Zenobia, Ohio, the boarding-school, the 
 European vagabondage, the New York apartment house, 
 the summer seaside cottage, to this. And she had un 
 folded from the loud, slangy, "breezy" American girl, 
 quick-witted and uneducated, to the woman who knew 
 rather more than the names of things, who was sure of 
 herself and her world, who had picked what she wanted 
 from the vulgar profusion of riches, and fitted to herself 
 an environment like a glove ! Yes, it was admirable, but 
 he did not admire. In the rapid bloom of the hybrid 
 there had emerged something hard, metallic, common, 
 which he did not analyze, but which he felt, like the 
 touch of iron. She had gone far, but she had reached 
 the crest of her wave. When she was silent and thought, 
 was she conscious that she lacked something was she 
 dissatisfied with the result of her creation ?
 
 I 
 310 THE REAL WOULD 
 
 She was a long time dressing, he thought, when a 
 clock struck seven and a half. But she cared more now 
 for dress, and all the physical details of life, than she 
 had as a girl. She never neglected her hours for exer 
 cise the swimming-pool, the ride in the Park, or, if 
 the weather was bad, fencing. The masseuse, the mani 
 cure, the teacher of physical culture, each had his 
 allotted moments of the full day. The care of her 
 beautiful body was first in the category of her duties. 
 Mrs. Gushing was not one to come out of the season 
 haggard and worn; the morning after the hardest 
 evening of the week she was fresh and redundantly 
 vital. All was perfectly arranged and thought out! 
 
 He lit another cigarette, sipped the last drops of the 
 cocktail, and stole about the room, opening books, exam 
 ining the bibelots, whose jargon he had heard so often of 
 late. She was nothing to him, he kept saying, with a 
 feeble delight in the phrase. She was but a good dinner 
 and a vivacious hour of talk. He knew her, alas ! He 
 knew her to the remotest corner of the soul he had once 
 loved, like a dog, as grown men do not love, with worship 
 and reverence and faith, with a subduing sense of the 
 mystery in woman. Perhaps she had taught him most 
 kindly the lesson of life that savage summer morning 
 beside the pool of cold sea water. . . . 
 
 The silence made the man nervous. What was in the 
 woman's mind this afternoon? Why had she need 
 of him ? He could not talk, nor flatter her pride and 
 conceit, nor add fame to her house, nor tickle her 
 vanity, nor even make love to her ! He might be useful
 
 THE REAL WORLD 311 
 
 to her, but he was scarcely decorative. The unornamental 
 and necessary furniture of life she was wont to shove out 
 of sight. And while he waited in the dim, silent room, 
 penetrated with the silences of the other rooms, the aloof 
 ness of the great house, strange fancies flitted through 
 his sensible mind; wild thoughts of mad acts, sinful, 
 inhuman visions of deeds done beyond the confines of 
 this moral world of ours souls without regret, with 
 out bonds, not tethered with the halting lassitude of 
 our dull, weary lives, such moments as spring un 
 foreseen upon the temperate and restrained, disclosing 
 caverns under their well-ordered acts where strange 
 passions seethe. . . . 
 
 " You are here ! " 
 
 At the rustle of her dress he had started, as if detected 
 in some furtive act, and he tried to gain his usual com 
 posure by the matter-of-fact phrases which he uttered. 
 
 " An hour or more, I should say. When do you usually 
 dine?" 
 
 " It doesn't make any matter to-night, does it ? I told 
 Thompson eight. Shall we go now ? " 
 
 Her eyes were unnaturally bright. He would have 
 said, if he had not known her to be abstemious, that she 
 had been drinking, or had taken some poison to dilate the 
 pupils. But she smiled tranquilly, interpreting his ner 
 vousness as a tribute to her appearance. For her little 
 dinner intime she had taken the trouble to put on full 
 evening dress. Now that her figure had gained a number 
 of pounds, she needed splendor more than simplicity. 
 
 They dined, rather dully and gloomily. All the gayety
 
 312 THE REAL WORLD 
 
 and sprightliness of her usual mood were snuffed out, and 
 if it had not been for the intense brilliancy of her eyes, 
 he would have thought her bored. She scarcely spoke 
 after he had started to talk about Stevenson and his work 
 on the little Iowa railroad. Under the scrutiny of her 
 eye, he rambled on in great detail about the railroad, its 
 misfortunes, and Stevenson's plucky fight to save his 
 father's fortune in these hard times. He explained the 
 situation of the road, the legal questions, the bonds, the 
 debenture stock, the common stock talking in a haze, 
 with the eagerness of a man who talks to prove that he is 
 not drunk. Mrs. Gushing ate little, and merely touched her 
 champagne with her lips. But he drank more than usual, 
 gaining a certain command of his nervousness from the 
 wine. Finally, as Elsie had ceased to eat altogether and 
 sat resting her elbows upon the table, her eyes fixed upon 
 him, he broke off his tale. 
 
 " I don't know why I am so stupid to-night, and bore 
 you with all this shop." 
 
 " I like it," she responded slowly. " I like to hear you 
 talk about affairs business. You make it clear and im 
 portant. You are a man now, and you talk well very 
 well, Jack." > ; 
 
 As he did not continue, she made an effort to start him 
 once more. 
 
 " So your friend has been in New York to see about 
 raising money. What has he done ? " 
 
 This he had told long before, and he saw that her mind 
 had been wandering all the time while her eyes were 
 fixed upon him. When he failed to reply, she pushed
 
 THE REAL WORLD 813 
 
 back her chair, and silently they returned to the library 
 where their coffee was waiting. 
 
 " No, you are not very brilliant to-night," she observed 
 accusingly. " We will go to the opera instead of staring 
 each other out of countenance all the evening." 
 
 The carriage was waiting at the door. He realized 
 that she had intended all the time to go. While they 
 were driving the few blocks, he heard her rapid breath 
 ing, as if she were greatly excited, but whenever she 
 spoke, her voice was slow and dull. The second act of 
 the opera had begun when they entered the box. Elsie 
 dropped into a chair near the door, and motioned to him 
 to take the one beside her. From where they sat noth 
 ing was visible but the florid ceiling and the vast arch of 
 the upper stage, and for once the house was hushed, the 
 chatter from the boxes extinguished, as Ternina's voice 
 rose in the long triumphant desire of Isolde 
 
 41 ... wie sie es wendet 
 
 wie sie es endet, 
 
 was sie mir ktiret, 
 
 wohin mich f iihret 
 ihr ward ich zu eigen : 
 nun lass 1 mich gekorsam zeigen !" 
 
 The woman beside him closed her eyes, and seemed to 
 sink into the waves of sound. The soft, passionate, in 
 sistent duet began with its recurrent melody, its leap 
 ing, quivering, maddening ecstasy the music of the 
 body, the poignant cry of the nerves. At first the music 
 stilled his nervous tremor, calmed him like an opiate, 
 but as the themes returned, ever higher, ever more yearn-
 
 314 THE REAL WORLD 
 
 ing for satisfaction of desire, for peace to the body, the 
 pulses in his hands beat faster, and the strange madness 
 of music, the intoxication wilder than the intoxication of 
 drug or wine, overcame his senses. The fever flooded 
 ever fiercer, submerging the little landmarks of resolu 
 tion, glorifying the common thoughts of common things 
 pleading, demanding, promising, revealing. . . . 
 
 She was breathing faster in obedience to the same in 
 fluence, abandoning herself with less resistance to the 
 seductive draught, assuaging the savage instincts of her 
 tortuous nature in the moralless, enervating bliss of the 
 music. With the last note, at the sound of the wooden 
 rap-rap, tap-tap of the applause, she opened her eyes and 
 looked at the man, one long sigh fluttering from her lips. 
 
 " Jack, Jack ! " she murmured drowsily, as if scarcely 
 awakened from a wonderful sleep. 
 
 His hand met hers, and they waited, not knowing 
 themselves, their hearts beating loudly, calling across 
 the little space between their bodies. And in those mo 
 ments, while the audience moved and made little human, 
 discordant noises, proving to themselves that they were 
 just the same little people with proper ideas and moral 
 codes, these two trembled and looked into each other's 
 eyes, afraid and tempted, each searching the mystery of 
 the other ! 
 
 "Come, let's go," she whispered, gathering up her 
 opera cloak. Jack followed her, his body still stiff and 
 unfamiliar. She led the way to some little-used exit, 
 and they found themselves in the damp night, through 
 which filtered the flakes of a spring snowstorm. She
 
 THE REAL WORLD 315 
 
 took his arm, and they walked up the sloppy pavement, 
 heedless of the loungers, of the swirling wisps of clotted 
 snow. 
 
 " And now ? " Jack asked, trying to throw off the 
 weight that clogged his mind. 
 
 " We will go home not back there. Come, here's a 
 carriage," and with sudden energy she sprang into a 
 waiting cab. He gave the address and pulled the door 
 to, then turned to look at her, gravely, doubtingly, his 
 heart still beating fiercely. 
 
 " You meant it ! " he said accusingly. 
 
 " Yes, I meant it ! " she exclaimed, her face close to 
 his, her eyes answering his defiantly. " And I am glad, 
 I am glad."
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 A BED of red fire gleamed through the gray ashes on 
 the hearth. The room was permeated with the pleasant 
 warmth and pungent odors of the burned wood. A read 
 ing lamp, and the rosy glow from the hearth, barely 
 revealed one corner, and touched the white surface of a 
 marble torso. 
 
 Elsie slipped the long cloak from her shoulders and 
 tossed it upon a chair, turning with the same swift motion 
 to Jack, who stood quite still before the fire. 
 
 " Yes ! " she exclaimed, a slight smile on her lips, her 
 hands outstretched to him. " I am glad, glad ! " 
 
 The man, drawn by the gesture, the triumphant words, 
 the shining face, slowly responded to her appeal, coming 
 nearer and nearer until he felt the repressed breathing, 
 the subtle dilation of the warm, vital creature almost 
 within his arms. For a moment they stood thus without 
 words, the woman's lips still smiling in joyous welcome, 
 her arms reached to him. In the chaotic swirl of thought 
 and feeling, the man paused, knowing the trick and hating 
 it, understanding in one swift revelation all the power 
 and recklessness of the woman, his heart strangely dead 
 within him, but his blood singing savagely in every vein 
 of his body. The poignant, appealing strains of the 
 music he had just heard sounded in his ears like the 
 
 316
 
 THE HEAL WOULD 317 
 
 phrase of fate, and she, too, was hearing those strains 
 and yielding to their sensuous impulsion. For a moment, 
 thus, they swayed before the wind of passion. 
 
 " For I love you, love you, love you," she said, iterating 
 the word with savage emphasis. " And you have loved 
 me always ! " 
 
 He cried vainly, blindly, "No! no!" a cry that 
 closed in pain and inarticulate moan, and then he 
 seized her and kissed her lips, as they smiled triumphantly 
 at him. They were soft and cool, fresh as the surface of 
 rain-washed fruit. As he touched them, the sensuous 
 glow of her body enveloped him, the spell of the woman 
 as woman, with all her hidden instincts, her beguiling, 
 unseen mastery of flesh. The repressed rage, the carnal 
 temptations of his race, swept over the man, surging in 
 him like the maddening music, the one great desire 
 that would be appeased, even to death. 
 
 " I love you, love you, love you," she repeated in her 
 triumph, bringing him nearer within the circle of her 
 arms, her lips still close to his. 
 
 " I almost hate you ! " he answered dully. In the 
 silence of the dim room something seemed to break, like 
 the snapping of a taut ligament. He seized her arms and 
 held her away, looking into her eyes, which Were soft and 
 wet. The intensity of her gaze had melted in the dream. 
 Her eyes slowly closed. He held her thus in his rough 
 grip, fighting for one last moment, in one last struggle 
 against the insane visions, the cravings of his body. 
 
 " No ! no ! " she murmured. " / know. You will love 
 me always. Why fight ? "
 
 318 THE REAL WORLD 
 
 Ah ! Why fight ! From his long fight with the ghosts 
 of things as they are, he had won nothing, nothing not 
 one appeasement, one comforting truth, one little sip of 
 the wine of life. Why fight for things unseen, and not 
 take what was within his hands ! Swiftly, thinking long 
 thoughts without the lapse of time, he made his last strug 
 gle, unconscious of all but the face before him, the woman 
 he held in his convulsive grip. Imperceptibly her face 
 faded, the sure joyousness departed from it, and she be 
 sought him with her eyes not to fail her. This appeal 
 awoke the old vision of his youth, his boyish dream upon 
 the hillside, but the woman's face was another's. This 
 was the appeal of despair, of defeat ! For the first time 
 in years he saw the other as he had seen it in the clear 
 October sunlight of his dream, and the vision of it stayed 
 his heart. The beast died out of him. He opened his 
 hands and staggered back into the gloom of the room. 
 
 "Jack! Jack!" 
 
 The cry rang out, forlornly, entreatingly ; he stepped 
 forward in unconscious obedience to it. But the spell 
 had broken. Painfully, with a physical sensation, like 
 the lifting of vast, dead weight, his will asserted itself. 
 There came to him the curious consciousness of having a 
 will, the power to lift, to thrust something from him, 
 to act! 
 
 " Jack, you can't leave me ! You love me, don't you 
 understand? And now I have you, and it has come 
 together, our love. What is the matter, Jack? What 
 is the matter? We have waited, oh, so long! I have 
 been blind and stupid. I did not know, when you spoke
 
 THE REAL WORLD 319 
 
 in the Park, years ago, you remember. It has taken me 
 all this time to learn, to be a woman. Now I know it 
 is the one thing, the whole." 
 
 She spoke rapidly, laying her hand upon his arm in 
 the old manner of intimate appeal. 
 
 " It is yours, Jack, all that I have, everything 
 everything you wanted, once." 
 
 The feeling of will, the sense of heavy weights to 
 be lifted, lifted, and held firm, clogged his tongue. 
 Finally he said, in a drowsy voice as to himself : 
 
 " Yes, I want you, Elsie ! My God, how I want you ! 
 And I hate you ! . . . I want your eyes and your hair, 
 your lips and your body," he cried, more wildly, wrench 
 ing out the brutal words. 
 
 She listened, the soft, sensuous dream stealing over 
 her warm face once more. 
 
 "And I want you, Jack! I have learned, at last. 
 Give me peace peace," she repeated softly, her arms 
 falling by her side. 
 
 " I cannot," he whispered, breathing hard, once more 
 grasping her arms and drawing her to him, then pushing 
 her away. "I will not ! Do you hear ? I will not ! 
 I want you, but I will not." 
 
 He repeated the words mechanically and again walked 
 away as if to feel that he could walk. Elsie dropped 
 into a chair and leaned toward the fire, covering her face 
 with her hands. 
 
 " Coward ! " she moaned desperately. " Coward 1 " 
 
 He came and stood by her. 
 
 " Yes, coward ! " he repeated after her. " Yes, coward ! "
 
 320 THE REAL WORLD 
 
 " A man ! to hold what you have wanted for years in 
 your arms and afraid to to take it! Listen! I am a 
 woman a bad woman, you think. That doesn't trouble 
 me. I have learned to take from life what I want. And 
 if I were to suffer for it, years of hell, such as they talk 
 about to frighten us, I would still take it. Yes, I would 
 take it and smile through my years of hell smile 
 gladly, having onoe tasted joy and known what it is. I 
 would pay, but you " 
 
 " I am afraid ! " he said bluntly. " Not of hell and 
 what you talk about. But I am afraid of myself." 
 
 He could not phrase the subtle fear that had held him 
 that moment; that had shown him the twilight land 
 beyond reason and a man's will. 
 
 " Afraid ! " she sneered. " Ah, Jack, Jack ! " 
 
 Her soul knew no fears ; what she touched and saw, 
 that only she knew. 
 
 " I should kill you," he burst out. " I want you, and 
 I should kill you out there in the desert beyond life 
 when we were both mad. I should kill you, Elsie, and 
 then kill myself." 
 
 She trembled in spite of his calm tones, feeling the 
 stronger currents of his nature, which threatened to 
 sweep her under. He knelt by her chair and whispered 
 to her : 
 
 " So it's best not ! I see. I know. It's best not. I 
 should kill you, Elsie ! " 
 
 She looked into his eyes, and said slowly : 
 
 " Well. Kill me, then ! " 
 
 The little ground of resolution he had won slipped
 
 THE REAL WORLD 321 
 
 back beneath his feet. His eyes burned; his hands 
 sweated, as if the body shared the toil of the soul. He 
 held her again in his arms, and again the yielding flesh, 
 the caressing eyes and face, the warm beating blood 
 called him insistently. . . . The moments danced past, 
 while his heart stood still. 
 
 " Then kill me ! " she repeated softly. 
 
 He staggered to his feet, throwing her aside, and 
 strode down the room. At the door he paused. She 
 was crying in little sobs of despair and rage. He lis 
 tened, hesitated, and plunged forward into the dark 
 hall. 
 
 The snow had ceased to fall, leaving a cool, dark, 
 starry vault of heaven. On the pavements the soft mat 
 of fresh snow muffled the footfalls of the few wayfarers. 
 The night was calm and luminous, and the great build 
 ings of the city seemed asleep and peaceful. He walked 
 up the broad avenue, pleased with the silence of his muf 
 fled steps. His limbs hung heavy, and he felt his body 
 in every muscle. But the tumult of his mind was gone, 
 as a bank of fog is scattered by -some strong wind. The 
 vast, cool heavens exhilarated him ; he felt strangely con 
 scious of moving and being, of mere existence upon the 
 inanimate earth. Thus for miles he went, calm and sure 
 with measured stride, up through the houses, into the 
 deserted Park, on up the heights of the farther city, and 
 beyond the straggling apartment buildings, walking upon 
 the earth which suddenly was new, made afresh, created 
 by that act of will which had torn him.
 
 322 THE EEAL WORLD 
 
 Something created ! Something real ! Something his 
 own ! Out of the shadows of things, out of the broken 
 ideals, the wooden dummies with which he had labored so 
 many years, a world seemed to be born, a new world that 
 was true to the touch, where he could live and work 
 untormented by shadows. He felt the eternal convic 
 tion of will, undebatable and undemonstrable, the 
 will that shapes and makes; the will that creates the 
 real from the unreal ; the will that out of pain and labor 
 gives peace !
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 " You look as if you had been up against something 
 pretty hard," Stevenson remarked frankly to Jack, after 
 scrutinizing his face for some moments. "Too much 
 work! No vacation in three years, and this damned 
 roar always beating in your ears! That's no way to 
 live ; out with us there's work enough for any man, but 
 we don't live beyond a five-cent fare from the open coun 
 try. That's the great thing, to know you can get away 
 from a white shirt and a typewriter any day you want to. 
 Why won't you come out and try it for a time ? They 
 aren't making it so fearfully seductive here, are they ? " 
 
 " I think I will try it for good," Jack answered deliber 
 ately, wheeling about in his chair. "Kimball comes 
 back next week, and I've no obligations to stay on after 
 that. I have been meaning to write you that I was 
 thinking of it." 
 
 The big man rose and slowly put out his heavy hand. 
 
 "We'll make a man of you," he exclaimed, trying 
 feebly to express his joy. "God, how I have wanted 
 you within a couple of hundred miles ! We'll pull this 
 railroad business off sure, now, and it'll make you rich." 
 
 Jack smiled ironically at Stevenson's indomitable 
 hyperbole, but the big man's mood exhilarated him. 
 
 "Listen," Stevenson continued, striding about the office 
 323
 
 324 THE REAL WORLD 
 
 in his excitement. " I'll tell you the whole thing. It's 
 this way : either we win, and the governor saves all he's 
 worked for, and a lot of other people who've put their 
 savings in or but there's no 'if and ' or ' about it. 
 We've got to win, if we take to guns to do it." 
 
 Jack, who knew pretty accurately the state of affairs 
 with the Iowa and Northern, was less sanguine of ultimate 
 success, but in his present frame of mind that considera 
 tion influenced him little. 
 
 " When the hard times came on," Stevenson broke in, 
 " we had things in pretty good shape as I told you. We 
 had just made some favorable traffic arrangements, the 
 new extensions were paying, and we had a dividend in 
 sight. Then every one in the country got a sour-belly 
 view of things, and now it's hard scratching to pay the 
 interest on the bonds." 
 
 "Do you know where the bonds are?" Jack asked 
 suddenly. 
 
 " I heard that a bum firm of New York brokers, Greene 
 or something, were buying all that were offered." 
 
 "And from Greenacre they went to whom, do you 
 suppose ? " 
 
 " Give it up. They were cheap enough, in the for 
 ties, but I don't see what your eastern capitalists wanted 
 of them. That's been bothering us a good deal." 
 
 "I don't know what Greenacre wanted of them, but 
 General Mather has his block now." 
 
 Jack explained briefly the transactions following the 
 Greenacre failure. 
 
 " Well," Stevenson commented, " so long as we can pay
 
 THE REAL WORLD 325 
 
 the interest, it don't matter. The bonds represent only a 
 fraction of what's gone into the road, and we don't pro- 
 pose to give any of your Wall Street speculators a chance 
 to freeze us out." 
 
 The two men went up town to dine at Stevenson's hotel, 
 and continued their discussion of the Iowa and Northern 
 affairs far into the evening. Big Steve could talk of 
 nothing else. 
 
 He had inherited his faith in the little railroad from 
 his father ; he believed in it with all the fire in his big 
 body; he had a sentiment for it as for some righteous 
 cause. His enthusiasm touched his less excitable friend. 
 Jack felt the romance of the story, the fight that the 
 elder Stevenson had made for his fortune and the for 
 tunes of his friends who had trusted him. He accepted 
 Stevenson's large hopes for the future, " when the coun 
 try recovered from its sour-belly fit and went to work." 
 According to Stevenson there was a place for the Iowa 
 and Northern in the scheme of creation, and that place 
 must be won. So it was arranged that Jack should enter 
 the legal department of the road in Mound City, where 
 Stevenson also had his headquarters as assistant general 
 manager. Together they would fight the coming fight 
 and save the road from " a Wall Street reorganization." 
 Jack was fired with the sense of freer life and creative 
 purpose, which the big man breathed ; out there in that 
 new land a man might see his will take shape and grow ! 
 
 As they parted that night, Stevenson remarked : 
 
 "I'd hoped to see Mrs. Gushing this trip. But her 
 place is closed up, and the servant said she'd gone to
 
 326 THE EEAL WORLD 
 
 Europe. She don't let time hang heavy on her hands ; 
 this is the second time I've missed her. Have you seen 
 much of her lately ? " 
 
 " Yes, a good deal," Jack answered. 
 " Pretty gay ranch, isn't it ? " 
 " So people say," Jack replied impassively. 
 Stevenson soon turned to another subject. 
 " What's become of the Mathers ? " 
 " That's a long story, and not for to-night." 
 Jack learned that Elsie had gone to Europe, with a 
 sudden feeling of relief. For the triumphant mood of 
 the night when he had left her had ebbed as the conquer 
 ing moods of the will must ebb, and again and again he 
 had lived over the struggle of will and desire. Once, 
 twice, since the day of his temptation, he had gone to 
 the Madison Avenue house, drawn by the terrible in 
 sanity, the abnegation of will, which forces the climber 
 to the precipice. He had looked at the door and passed. 
 He learned that he could pass ! Between the real and 
 the unreal lay that misty chasm, from which for all his 
 life he had escaped during those long moments in that 
 silent room, his face to hers. 
 
 There were a number of things to be done before he 
 could start the new life in the little Iowa town. He had 
 thrown himself into the plan with all his will : he would 
 close the old chapters of his life and begin the new one 
 without links to the past. When he gave notice of his 
 intentions to his firm, Mr. Hodder sent for him and ex 
 pressed his regret. Mr. Kimball asked some searching
 
 THE REAL WORLD 327 
 
 questions about the new position, and when Jack men 
 tioned the name of the railroad, the two lawyers ex 
 changed glances. Mr. Kim ball remarked : 
 
 "That's a pretty shaky concern! Don't you think 
 you are ill-advised to go into it before you have looked 
 over the situation more carefully ? The Iowa and North 
 ern has a bad reputation." 
 
 " I have no large stake," Jack replied. " I shall get 
 a salary, and when that ceases I must look elsewhere." 
 
 " You are giving up a good opening," Mr. Hodder 
 remonstrated. "We had intended when the times im 
 proved to make a new arrangement, a very favorable 
 arrangement, for you." 
 
 Jack, after acknowledging the implied offer, stated his 
 determination to leave New York, to start in a smaller 
 place, " where a man counted for more." 
 
 Mr. Kimball observed, smiling indulgently : 
 
 "I don't know where a man counts for more in our 
 country than in New York, provided he's the right 
 man." 
 
 " You mean where a man can earn more money," the 
 young lawyer corrected, with a laugh. 
 
 " And position, and professional standing," Mr. Hodder 
 added gravely. 
 
 " It is a personal question," Jack replied, after reflec 
 tion. " I don't believe I want merely money, or position, 
 or professional reputation, assuming that I could win all 
 that." 
 
 "Yes, it is a personal question," Kimball assented 
 coldly, feeling that he had been mistaken in the maturity
 
 328 
 
 of the capable young man before him. " But I think you 
 would find few men of our profession who would prefer 
 Mound City, Iowa, to a favorable opening in New York." 
 
 "Probably," Jack agreed, and the discussion ended 
 there. 
 
 He went about his preparations with a certain exhil 
 aration, as if he were arranging for a holiday. Every 
 thing seemed possible, a mood of optimism caught 
 from Stevenson, or latent in himself, and repressed while 
 he toiled over compromises and adjustments in the office 
 of Hodder and Kimball. He determined to take his 
 sister with him, for his mother had died early in the 
 winter, leaving Mary at the age of thirty with the cau 
 tious habits and views of an elderly spinster. There 
 were also Kuth's two little children to be looked out for. 
 They should have the chance he had lightly promised 
 their dying mother, a chance in a new world, his new 
 world. Concerning this plan he wrote Miss Mather, 
 who was at Pemberton Neck ; finally Aunt Julia brought 
 the children to New York. 
 
 "Your uncle is too old to travel," she explained to 
 Jack, complacently, enjoying the experience, with an air 
 of self-congratulation upon her superior mobility. " And 
 your uncle ain't decided in his own mind yet whether 
 you're on the right road. He's waitin' for you to come 
 to the Neck and put up a new hotel, or somethin'. But 
 I trust yer, Jock. The dreamin' ain't done no harm to 
 anybody so fer." 
 
 In his exuberant mood of will, his fresh imagination, 
 he formed another plan: before he left New York and
 
 THE REAL WORLD 329 
 
 his old life, he would find Stella, and make her follow 
 his new fortunes. When he saw her and opened his 
 plan to her, she was sullen at first, and disinclined to 
 talk with him; finally she agreed to walk with him 
 out to the Park and hear what he had to say. 
 
 " I shall find something out there for you," he ended, 
 "if you want it, if you. want to live with your child 
 and take care of it." 
 
 "There ain't nothing for me," Stella answered, with 
 the settled dreariness of lassitude and poverty. " When 
 a woman's getting old, like I am " 
 
 "Oh, yes, there is," he interrupted, the irrepressible 
 hopefulness springing freshly before the darkest prob 
 lems. " It's only the wish ! Steve will be free in a little 
 while." 
 
 " What's that to me or to you ? " she asked sullenly. 
 
 " It ought to be something to you, and I think it will 
 be," he replied, overbearing her discouragement. And 
 he persisted in his idea until his strong purpose had 
 prompted the flabby resolution of the woman. She 
 saw nothing but the gravel path before her feet and the 
 shabby clothes upon her body, and he saw more. In 
 time she came to see with him a little way into the 
 dim future of things. They went back to the city, 
 and when Jack left her, she had her own glimmer of 
 hope. 
 
 " If you don't go back on it, like the rest," she concluded 
 fearfully. " You won't forget ? " 
 
 " Not for one day." 
 
 He had finished what there was for him to do in Neir
 
 330 THE REAL WORLD 
 
 York, and a sense of peace and content stole over 
 while he treaded the noisy streets these last days. 
 
 The second morning of the journey to Mound City, the 
 train was crossing the fertile farms of northern Illinois, 
 rolling on for indefinite miles through broad corn-lands 
 among the low hills. Very early in the morning Jack 
 awoke and watched the monotonous landscape with a 
 keen interest in the aspect of the slightest things. He 
 left the close car and stood upon the platform, soothed 
 by the slow rhythm of the great train and the fresh air 
 of the summer day. It was an uninspiring country, 
 mile after mile of rolling hill and corn-covered plain, 
 broken at intervals by small shabby houses standing 
 beside large barns and windmills that were lazily sweep 
 ing their iron wings in the morning air. The corn was 
 rank and high, barely tasselled, rich with early juices. 
 It was a peaceful and fertile land, ribbed with black 
 loamy roads that ran over the low hills to distant horizons. 
 Now and then the train rumbled over a culvert above a 
 muddy stream already sunk between its clayey banks in 
 summer drought. Not a beautiful country, surely ! But 
 to the young man who watched it unroll from the speed 
 ing train, it seemed a land vitally real, a land of work, 
 rich in promise and fertile in fulfilment. 
 
 The train slackened speed and halted at a rough wooden 
 shed on the outskirts of an ugly little town named Ever 
 green Springs. Some heavy farm wagons, their broad 
 tires caked with dirt from the clay roads, stood about 
 the station, loading farming machinery from the freight
 
 THE REAL WORLD 331 
 
 shed. The strip of road beyond the station was thick 
 with fine dust, and the grass along its border, yellow 
 and dead. The summer sun lay broad and warm upon 
 the town and stifled the breeze from the prairies. Such 
 was probably Mound City, but its slovenly aspect did not 
 depress the stranger, who looked at it curiously. 
 
 Just beyond the town the train passed the walls of a 
 dismantled factory building of considerable size. The 
 abandoned look of the place was emphasized by the fer 
 tile fields that reached to its walls. Something broken 
 and old and wasted, it rose sullenly in the cloudless 
 sky. What was the meaning of its desolation here in 
 this new country ? The abortive expenditure of energy 
 and purpose was a scar upon the land. Jack watched 
 the crumbling stone walls recede behind the train, fasci 
 nated by its ruin where all was new. It spoke of old 
 plans, purposes once strong and vital as his, that had 
 ceased to act or had flowed into other channels, leaving 
 this monument of their defeat to crumble into useless 
 decay. Was it so with all effort ? Did it have its day 
 of life and energy, of existence, and then was it thrown 
 aside like a used garment ? Was all creation but the 
 sport of the hour ? And the world real for a moment, 
 was it unreal always ? 
 
 Like a cloud out of the burnished sky the idea dark 
 ened the man's mind, while the train sped away from the 
 deserted building a mere speck upon the flat fields. 
 Then he dismissed it from his mind unanswered. Often, 
 however, during the future months while he was toiling 
 in the routine of affairs, the picture of the abandoned
 
 332 THE REAL WORLD 
 
 factory would rise, unwelcome, before his vision, and he 
 would wonder whether all men in the stress of accom 
 plishment were haunted by this imagination of defeat, 
 of mistake. Again and again his strong will saved him, 
 the will to put the vision away from his eyes, the will to 
 believe that waste and abortive effort assisted, likewise, 
 in creation. . . . 
 
 Stevenson was at the station in Mound City to wel 
 come the newcomer, with his father and Black, who 
 had come from the little town a hundred miles away 
 where he was teaching. The elder Stevenson was a 
 large, heavy man, loosely built like his son, ponderously 
 shy and kind. They walked into the little city, and 
 before they reached the brick building which contained 
 the general offices of the Iowa and Northern, Jack 
 felt that he had known the heavy, white-haired man for 
 a long time. That evening they sat on the broad veranda 
 of the 8tevensons' house, where Jack was to make his 
 home for the present, and talked as old friends who had 
 come by different paths to meet each other. The silence 
 of the summer night was broken now and then by a puff 
 ing locomotive, or the thud of freight cars as a long train 
 buckled up in the yards below the city. The blue circles 
 of the arc lamps outlined the rambling prairie town, and 
 beyond their range there seemed to exist a vast country 
 into which the locomotives disappeared with shrill, joy 
 ful calls.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 THE fight came even before it was expected. As Big 
 Steve expressed it, Jack had scarcely time to get his coat 
 off and to size up the ring, before the first round was 
 called. Late in the summer the railroad defaulted on the 
 interest on its bonds. The elder Stevenson had been to 
 St. Louis and to Chicago to raise money, and had failed. 
 Then he had turned to the bondholders, and, in company 
 with the general counsel of the road and Jack, had held 
 several meetings with them, and arranged the preliminaries 
 for a receivership friendly to the real owners of the road. 
 But the disturbing fact could not be disguised, that only 
 a minority of the bondholders were represented at these 
 meetings. Where were the other bonds, scattered or 
 in powerful hands ? 
 
 Early in October, certain Eastern bondholders made 
 application to the courts for foreclosure and the appoint 
 ment of a receiver, and named a man who was connected 
 with a rival road, the C. I. & M., one division of which 
 ended at Mound City. This move disclosed the object of 
 buying the bonds : the receivership proceedings were but 
 the first step in taking possession of the Iowa and 
 Northern, and selling it out to its stronger rival, at the 
 merely nominal price of the bonds. If, as Stevenson 
 remarked, the stock of the Iowa and Northern had been
 
 334 THE HEAL WORLD 
 
 mere water, as was the almost universal case in that part 
 of the country, the proceeding would have been just 
 enough. But in the belief of the Stevensons and the 
 other people who had nursed the little railroad, the bonds 
 represented less than a third of the true value of the 
 property. Their interests, which they had struggled to 
 preserve, would be wiped out in case the bondholders took 
 possession. 
 
 So while Jack was settling his new family in one of the 
 frame houses on the edge of the prairie town and gradu 
 ally learning to comprehend his new situation, there were 
 gloomy times in the little brick building that held the 
 general offices of the Iowa and Northern. Under the 
 leadership of Judge Bestor, the general counsel for the 
 road and a large stockholder, the Stevenson forces pre 
 pared to fight. Their minority association of bondholders 
 represented less than a third of the bonds, but nine-tenths 
 of the stock, common and preferred. The elder Stevenson 
 went East to secure the cooperation of the few bondholders 
 he knew. But in spite of his best efforts, there seemed to 
 be but one outcome for the situation. Thus the winter 
 wore on. The two friends went over and over the affair, 
 studying every aspect of the road's financial history to 
 discover some loophole of escape. 
 
 "If it were only our pile," Big Steve remarked one 
 Sunday, when they were reviewing the new developments 
 of the week at Jack's dinner-table, " I can say without 
 any flim-flam, the old man would lose without kicking 
 much. He's mortgaged pretty nearly everything all 
 the farm lands up north, and the Dakota ranch, but he
 
 THE EEAL WORLD 335 
 
 could stand being wiped out even at sixty. So could I. 
 There's enough money to be made, and it isn't the hardest 
 trick in life to make money. But it's the others, the 
 little fellers, the old friends, who put their money in 
 because the governor urged them to ; the shopkeepers in 
 this little town, who've invested their savings in it ; old 
 Bill the agent up at Pine Forks all of 'em ! " he ended, 
 with a gesture of despair. 
 
 " They can't lay the blame on you," Black, who was visit 
 ing Jack during his holidays, observed. 
 
 " Won't they ! " Stevenson retorted brusquely. " You 
 don't know humans much if you think that. They'll curse 
 us worse than confidence men. They'll say we sold 'em 
 out, and have got the profits packed away in a bank East. 
 They'll say anything, and you would, too, if you saw all 
 the few dollars you had scraped up in years just scratched 
 from the slate by a bit of Wall Street 'reorganization.' 
 How did you feel when the bank bust just as you started 
 at college ? " 
 
 " I didn't feel," Black answered humorously. " I was 
 too much surprised to feel ! " 
 
 " Well, if you'd had to start over again from the first, 
 you'd have got over your surprise mighty quick ! " 
 
 When Black left the room to find Mary, in whom he was 
 more vividly interested than in the Iowa and Northern, 
 Jack said slowly : 
 
 "There's only one chance, Steve. We must get hold 
 of Mather's bonds, if he's kept them." 
 
 "I have thought of that," the other replied. "But 
 he mayn't have enough, and he mayn't have kept 'em.
 
 336 THE REAL WORLD 
 
 Then what's the likelihood he's going to join us ? It's 
 much more likely he's in the other gang already." 
 
 " I rather think he has kept them, and if I remember 
 rightly, they were a goodish lot. Do you know, from 
 the fact that Hodder and Kimball made the application, 
 I think the General is back of the Eastern crowd." 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 " We must get him to have a change of heart." 
 
 Big Steve shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 ** I'd rather tackle a German Jew ! You don't know the 
 prejudices of that Boston crowd. If they see a chance 
 of losing a cent, they get scared to death. Besides, the 
 old General is a Tartar, isn't he ? As hard as one of 
 your Maine paving-stones?" 
 
 "Pretty nearly, but I should like to try him." 
 
 "You can have the opportunity fast enough, if you 
 Trant it bad!" 
 
 When the elder Stevenson returned from the East, 
 he confirmed Jack's conjectures : General Mather was 
 the main part of the association of Eastern bondholders, 
 who were acting through Hodder and Kimball as attor 
 neys. Gushing, who had forced these securities upon 
 the Mathers at the time of Greenacre's failure, had over 
 reached himself. It seemed likely that the General 
 would reap large profits from the despised bonds, and 
 he was not the man to let his chance slip by unim 
 proved. The elder Stevenson had as little confidence as 
 his son that anything could be done in that direction. 
 So matters drifted on until March. The hearing of 
 the suit for foreclosure would be in April.
 
 THE REAL WORLD 337 
 
 Jack could not abandon the idea that something might 
 be done with the Mathers. He remembered the General's 
 attitude in Hodder and Kimball's office that afternoon 
 when he had accompanied his daughter; and though 
 the old man's manner had been cold and hard, Jack 
 believed that his mind was not closed to persuasion. 
 As the date for the hearing drew near, and final defeat 
 loomed more darkly on the horizon, the Stevensons lis 
 tened to his arguments. 
 
 " We must try Mather," Jack iterated. " It's the last 
 chance." 
 
 " We'll go on, then/' Big Steve finally agreed. u We 
 shall only be out our fares, anyway." 
 
 Even the elder Stevenson's eyes flashed with a trace 
 of their old hopefulness. 
 
 " If he could only see it as I see it," he muttered to 
 himself. 
 
 "We'll make him!" Jack asserted. "Let Judge 
 Bestor get us every possible delay at Omaha. Get us 
 a week or ten days if you can." 
 
 They left Mound City the next morning. The broad 
 fields were still under the plough ; here and there the 
 first green of the grass colored the roadsides. As 
 the train passed Evergreen Springs, the gaunt walls of the 
 deserted factory struck Jack's eye. It stood there, in 
 the new seed time, like an evil omen of failure! It 
 had been a mistake. Man's effort in building its stout 
 walls had been abortive. In the same way all the 
 struggles of the brave old man they had left behind 
 in Mound City were to prove useless merely mistaken
 
 338 THE REAL WORLD 
 
 energy. A month hence his labor and that of hundreds 
 of others would be wiped from the world by a decree of 
 court. All the invention and energy that had gone into 
 the creation of the little Iowa and Northern was a waste. 
 
 Thus man created, as for eternity, and the work of his 
 will crumbled sooner or later, to give place to some 
 new piece of creation, indifferent or antagonistic to his. 
 The world had been real for him, with limitless avenues 
 for his eager feet, but the world died with him, or briefly 
 thereafter. Thus cities grew and decayed, one generation 
 destroying what another had striven to create. Why 
 strive? Why not accept the wind of fate, as it blew, 
 now harsh, now soft ? In the interminable change, why 
 seek for permanence ? 
 
 Yet here he was, hastening with all the passion of his 
 soul to interpose his hand, to strive against some other 
 scheme of things, to make his own will prevail. 
 
 Yes ! That was the condition of human life. Each 
 man made his world, filled it with the molten metal of his 
 own visions, created it, realized it, and lived in it ! What 
 matter, then, that his creations died early or late in the 
 world of things ? Would he take to himself the privi 
 lege of the gods? Was it not enough to live and 
 create? . . . Jack unconsciously stretched his hands 
 out to the passive earth, eager to walk upon it and act, 
 an irresistible, unreasoning conviction of joy in existence 
 flooding back to his body and soul. 
 
 He was less hopeful, however, two days later as he 
 and Stevenson left their hotel in Boston to go to the
 
 THE REAL WORLD 339 
 
 office of Lord, Mather, and Greenacre. Two days of 
 railroad travel liad given him time to see all the obsta 
 cles in his way and to feel the inevitable reaction from 
 his enthusiasm for his plan. As he thought it out coldly, 
 it was flimsy, quixotic, absurd, unbusinesslike. What 
 good reason could he find to influence this cold, experi 
 enced man of affairs that he should sacrifice a sure, im 
 mediate advantage for the sake of justice to some remote 
 people ? Why should the General rely upon his word ? 
 It was sentimental, nonsensical, foredoomed to failure! 
 Even Big Steve was less boyish and exuberant than 
 usual. They walked up Washington Street, silent, each 
 preoccupied with his own fears. 
 
 The old sign had disappeared. In its place in 
 small gilt letters were two names : ROGER MATHER, 
 and ROGER MATHER, JR. The firm had finally gone out 
 of existence. Jack found some small comfort in that 
 fact. They asked to see General Mather, and Jack 
 sent in his card. Instead of the General, however, Ned 
 Mather came from the inner office and welcomed them 
 cordially. 
 
 "The General doesn't come in often," he explained, 
 after the first greetings. "What can I do for you? 
 You see I am harnessed at last, as well as Roger. He's 
 in there." 
 
 Jack determined quickly to lay the case before young 
 Mather, to secure his influence, however little it might 
 be. They sat down there in the outer office, and Jack 
 stated the affair of the bonds, the foreclosure, and the 
 object of his visit, as briefly as possible. Young Mather
 
 340 THE REAL WORLD 
 
 listened, comprehending more easily than Jack had 
 hoped. At the end he said : 
 
 " So these New York sharks are squeezing the breath 
 out of you, and you want us to give your people a chance 
 to breathe ? " 
 
 Jack nodded. 
 
 " That's it ! " Stevenson exclaimed. 
 
 Young Mather laughed in a detached manner. 
 
 " Why, the General and Roger are hugging themselves 
 over the idea that they are squeezing so successfully! 
 They wouldn't let go for worlds." 
 
 Stevenson rose immediately, a round oath in his mouth. 
 He wanted to punch somebody. Jack said nothing. 
 After young Mather had had another laugh, he added : 
 
 "Of course, you're right. I should like to help you 
 out, I really should." 
 
 " Will you ? " Jack asked doubtingly. 
 
 " What can I do ? These bonds are my only rehabili 
 tation in the family. They got them through me, by 
 some odd chance, and they're the only profitable things 
 they ever got through me." 
 
 "We don't ask you to throw 'em away," Stevenson 
 put in. 
 
 "I don't care what they do with them," Mather re 
 marked pleasantly. " I'll state your case to Roger, any 
 way. Come in early this afternoon. Perhaps the General 
 will be here. I was going out of town, but I suppose 
 you are in a hurry." 
 
 "The fellow who is getting squeezed generally is," 
 Stevenson answered ruefully.
 
 THE REAL WOBLD 341 
 
 When the two men returned in the afternoon, they 
 were shown into the inner office. Instead of the General, 
 whom Jack had hoped to see, Roger Mather walked in, 
 after keeping them waiting half an hour* He bowed 
 very slightly to Stevenson and his companion, and sat 
 down at his desk. He was whiter, less athletic than his 
 younger brother, and colder, more indifferent in his 
 manners, which were scrupulously polite. He looked at 
 Jack as if he had never seen him before, and Jack 
 knew that they were wasting their time sitting there, 
 whatever value it might have to them. 
 
 "My brother has told me of your extraordinary 
 errand," Mather said slowly. " I can answer you very 
 briefly. Our interests are in the hands of Hodder 
 and Kimball of New York. I advise you to see 
 them." 
 
 " Can we see General Mather ? " Jack asked, rising at 
 once from his chair. 
 
 " The General rarely comes in from Riverside," Mather 
 answered slowly, looking at Jack with a gleam of passion 
 in his eyes. " Besides, he would not see you in any case. 
 I have answered you." 
 
 So here was the brief conclusion of his cherished plan. 
 He could not even see General Mather ! Roger Mather 
 eyed him for several moments with the insolent assur 
 ance of having given checkmate. What evil chance had 
 put this man again in his path? He longed to seize 
 him; to feel his fingers about his enemy's neck, as he 
 had years before. 
 
 " Come ! " Stevenson muttered, turning away.
 
 342 THE HEAL WORLD 
 
 Jack waited, trying to find some words; and then 
 slowly took his hat and followed Stevenson. A futile 
 rage choked him. He might have foreseen from the 
 start this inevitable defeat. He had rushed blindly into 
 the hands of his enemy. The old quarrel had lain buried 
 in his heart with his old love, his old world. But as the 
 two friends slowly and silently retraced their way to 
 their hotel, hate of this man raged and scorched him 
 afresh. Hitherto he had fought the battle for the sake 
 of his friend, for his belief in the real justice of his 
 cause. Now he longed to win in order that he might 
 whip the cold, sneering man whose life he had once 
 held in his strong hands. 
 
 " I suppose that ends it," Stevenson remarked as they 
 reached their hotel. 
 
 " I suppose so ! " Jack admitted heavily. 
 
 "Let's have a drink," Stevenson suggested. "If I 
 don't, I'll hit somebody." 
 
 While they waited for their drinks, Jack's mind 
 throbbed. He could not give up ! A part of the strong 
 new world under his feet seemed to be slipping away. 
 The brute clamor of his will drove him on. As Steven 
 son finished his glass and slowly pulled his heavy body 
 upright, with a little boyish sigh of disappointment, 
 Jack said: 
 
 " I am going out there to see the General." 
 
 " Better save your car-fare," Stevenson advised. 
 
 "It isn't much seventy cents round trip," Jack 
 answered dryly. "Besides, it's my old home. Don't 
 you want to risit the home of my youth ? "
 
 THE REAL WORLD 343 
 
 "Thanks. I'm going to see Nethersole and try 
 to get some consolation out of this damned town," 
 Stevenson grumbled. 
 
 " You'll see me back before long." 
 
 "Hope so."
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 THE servant said that General Mather was walking in 
 the garden with his daughter, and offered to call him. 
 But Jack intimated that he would find them, he knew 
 his way, and the servant let him out of the old hall 
 to the terrace above the gardens. He could see the 
 General at the other end of the walk, near the summer 
 house, leaning on his cane, while his daughter stooped to 
 pick something from the border. Jack walked down the 
 path, his heart beating in trepidation. At the sound of 
 his steps on the walk, General Mather looked up and 
 scrutinized him, waiting for him to explain himself. 
 He did not bow, even when Jack raised his hat, but 
 across the old man's face there passed an expression of 
 recollection. Jack thought that the General knew per 
 fectly well who he was. 
 
 " General Mather," he said finally, when he was but a 
 few feet from the old man. 
 
 At the sound of the words Miss Mather turned, and per 
 ceiving Jack, hurried toward him, holding out her hand. 
 
 " What good fortune brought you here ! " she exclaimed, 
 with a cordiality unusual in her manner. " I am so glad 
 to see you ! Papa, you remember Mr. Pemberton. You 
 met him at Mr. Hodder's office in New York," she 
 added slowly. 
 
 344
 
 THE REAL WORLD 345 
 
 General Mather bowed very slightly and murmured 
 through his thin lips, " Mr. Pernberton." 
 
 His eyes were as sharp as ever, and, as they covered 
 the young man, the recollection of the General's reading 
 the account of Steve's embezzlement flashed oddly into 
 Jack's mind. 
 
 "Do you like it in Iowa?" Miss Mather continued, 
 trying to cover up her father's coldness of manner. " Are 
 you still with Mr. Stevenson in the railroad ? " 
 
 She asked a great many questions, to which Jack 
 answered vaguely. The old man's blue eyes still rested 
 on him, and the impartial scrutiny took away the little 
 confidence he had. The three moved toward the house. 
 Jack paused on the terrace, and said hurriedly that he 
 had come to see the General on business. 
 
 " What is it ? " General Mather asked abruptly, as if 
 any business that the young man might have with him 
 could be transacted where they stood. Miss Mather turned 
 away and busied herself with a vine that was pushing its 
 spring growth over the wall. Jack began awkwardly : 
 
 " It is concerned with the railroad I am connected with 
 the Iowa and Northern." 
 
 The old man did not betray by the quiver of a muscle 
 that he had ever heard of that piece of property. Jack 
 told his story, at first stumbling over the details, and 
 somewhat vague at important points, but speaking more 
 fluently as he went on, seeming to realize that the case 
 was lost but that he could make this old man feel it was 
 a case worth fighting for. Some passion crept into his 
 tones as he painted the cynical methods, by means of
 
 846 THE REAL WORLD 
 
 which hundreds of little owners were to be wiped out, 
 and the property turned over to its rival for a merely 
 nominal sum, which would be shared by people who 
 had bought the bonds at forty cents on the dollar as 
 a pure speculation. At the close the old man asked 
 simply : 
 
 " Did you go to my office ? n 
 
 Jack nodded. 
 
 " Did you see my son ? n 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 What did he say ? " 
 
 " He referred me to the lawyers who represent the ma 
 jority bondholders the very people who are conducting 
 this deal." 
 
 General Mather nodded approvingly. 
 
 " That is what I should have said." 
 
 "You will not consider any other method of of ac 
 tion ? " Jack asked in a low voice. 
 
 General Mather moved toward the door of the house, 
 and for reply said : 
 
 " No ! I don't like to consider business matters in my 
 house. Isabelle, I think it is growing cold. I shall go 
 in for my tea." 
 
 He bowed to Jack and left the terrace. 
 
 For a minute Jack stood where he had been left, star 
 ing out at the garden with the summer house at the end 
 of the vista, his mind dulled by the sense of absolute 
 defeat. He had clung tenaciously to every hope, and 
 now that there was not one left, he felt an unreasonable 
 despair, an inability to pull himself together.
 
 THE REAL WORLD 347 
 
 " It is too bad," Miss Mather said, her eyes flashing 
 with anger. " It is Eoger, I am afraid." 
 
 Jack scarcely heard her. He had forgotten that she 
 was there. 
 
 "I am very, very sorry," she continued. "I see it 
 all ! It is a mere matter of business to these bondhold 
 ers. They have bought cheaply and want to sell for a 
 high figure. And the other road can afford to pay them 
 par for their bonds and more, because they haven't to 
 pay the others who really own the road." 
 
 "That is about it," Jack answered wearily. "No 
 wonder the ignorant fellow on a farm wants to pay his 
 debts in cheap money, when this is the way " 
 
 He broke off, realizing that he was talking to a woman 
 who could not be interested in his conclusions. 
 
 "I have failed that is all. And, of course, I see 
 but one side. We offer very little but promises to the 
 bondholders for waiting until better times. Good-by 
 I must get back to town." 
 
 " Don't go ! " Miss Mather exclaimed. " You mustn't 
 fail ! You did it badly. You shouldn't have approached 
 papa in that way. He hates to be taken by surprise. 
 He isn't a hard man or unjust, but he has been very un 
 successful lately and thinks he has been cheated. I am 
 sure if he could have the matter presented to him differ 
 ently, at another time, he would feel more disposed to 
 help your friends. You should have written to me first." 
 
 "I didn't think of that, and I am not sure I should 
 have done it, anyway," Jack answered, with the man's 
 dislike of engaging feminine cooperation in a business
 
 348 THE REAL WORLD 
 
 affair. "Then there is your brother. General Mather 
 had to be won at once before " He hesitated again. 
 
 "Before Roger could influence him," she supplied. 
 " Yes, Roger would do all in his power to defeat you, I 
 am afraid." 
 
 Her heightened color and embarrassed manner made 
 Jack wonder whether she knew the reasons for her broth 
 er's animosity to him. 
 
 " So it is of no use," Jack ended. u It is too late now." 
 
 "No! no!" the woman protested. "Roger doesn't 
 come out here very often. You needn't be afraid of his 
 influence. Tell me more about the road, all that you 
 would have told my father if you had had a good chance. 
 Perhaps I can do something." 
 
 He told her every detail that he knew, without much 
 belief in her ability to change his ill fate, but grateful to 
 her for her sympathy. As he went into the matter, 
 describing the people concerned in the road, whom he 
 had learned to know, and explaining the legal questions 
 involved, he warmed again with his old enthusiasm and 
 passion for the justice of his cause. 
 
 " You see," he ended, " how a small matter of business 
 involves the happiness of a lot of people. This affair is 
 a drop in the Wall Street bucket, but it means a great 
 deal for some decent people." 
 
 "It means justice!" Miss Mather exclaimed, with a 
 curious vibration of sympathetic passion in her voice. 
 
 " Justice and for my friend and my friend's father, 
 the power to keep faith with people who have trusted 
 them."
 
 THE REAL WORLD 349 
 
 " Yes ! " she assented, touched by this appeal even 
 more than by the other. 
 
 They looked into the quiet garden without speaking 
 until Jack moved : 
 
 "Well, I'm glad we had the talk, we agree, and the 
 failure " 
 
 " Come to-morrow about eleven." She interrupted his 
 idle speech with her sanguine words. " You will see my 
 father again, I think, at that time, and don't put too 
 much emphasis on his chance of getting as much for his 
 bonds if he joins your side. Let him feel the justice of 
 your cause. You and I and he are of the same blood 1 " 
 she concluded. 
 
 " I'll make it strong enough ! n 
 
 u To think that after all it will depend very largely on 
 whether he has a good night or not ! One takes a more 
 liberal view of one's neighbors after a good sleep," she 
 remarked whimsically as they shook hands. 
 
 The next morning Jack arrived at Riverside rather too 
 early for his appointment, and to pass the time before 
 eleven o'clock he strolled through Pancoast Lane, trying 
 to recall in its twists and turns, its cottage fronts and 
 gnarled trees, the vast geography it had been to him as 
 a boy. When he reached the house where he had been 
 born and lived so many phantom years, he scarcely 
 recognized it. The dirty stucco walls had been freshly 
 sanded and tinted ; the decayed fence had been replaced 
 by a thick hedge ; the yard, where burdocks and plan 
 tains had rioted, was covered with grass. The spot which 
 he had imagined all these years as a kind of cave of
 
 850 THE BEAL WORLD 
 
 despair, had become the suburban home of some clerk, 
 and the two little children playing in the front yard had 
 taken the place of his own discordant family. The 
 change in his old home gave him in some remote way 
 fresh courage and hope. That miasmatic past had faded 
 into the unreality from which it had originally come. 
 The discords, the phantoms, which had engulfed his 
 father had fled. With hope, positive and vital, stirring 
 in his heart, he left Pancoast Lane and climbed the little 
 hill to General Mather's house. He found the old man 
 sitting before a coal fire in one of the first floor rooms, 
 which he used for a private library. 
 
 " Well," the General said, pointing to a chair on the 
 other side of the fire, "my daughter felt that you 
 didn't get a fair hearing yesterday." 
 
 The smile that broke beneath the white mustache con 
 vinced Jack that the General had had the necessary sleep. 
 
 "I was weak in pleading my case," Jack responded 
 buoyantly, " but I have got my nerve this morning." 
 
 "Go on," General Mather said briefly, shielding his 
 face from the fire with a newspaper. 
 
 And Jack had his chance. The General made no com 
 ments, did not interrupt, and frequently hid his face 
 behind the newspaper, but Jack felt the old man's eyes 
 ferretting into his mind, his ears absorbing every word, 
 his keen mind revolving every consideration presented. 
 When Jack had finished his plea, the General said noth 
 ing for a time which seemed to the young man inter 
 minable. Finally, scratching his thin white beard, he 
 observed tentatively :
 
 THE REAL WORLD 351 
 
 " Your people out there in the West are rather fond of 
 getting out of their obligations. That's what all this 
 silver talk amounts to." 
 
 "As for that," Jack replied, "I can't say. I am a 
 stranger still. But I know that the Stevensons aren't 
 that kind!" 
 
 " You think this man Stevenson is honest ? " 
 
 "I know he is honest." 
 
 " Well, is he a big enough man to reorganize the prop 
 erty and make it pay ? " 
 
 "That it would be hard to tell," Jack answered 
 cautiously. "But one fact is sure: the C. I. & M. 
 wants the road, needs it, and they will pay a good 
 deal more than they are likely to under the present 
 scheme." 
 
 "You are asking me to take a very large risk. I 
 suppose you know how many of these bonds I hold ? " 
 
 " Only roughly. But the bonds are good at least for 
 what was paid for them." 
 
 General Mather smiled and again scratched his beard. 
 
 " You think they will resume payment on the bonds 
 within a year ? You see, I have to trust your informa 
 tion entirely ! " 
 
 "You could send your own men out to examine the 
 property," Jack suggested. 
 
 " That would take some time. I understand that the 
 need is urgent." 
 
 " Immediate ! " 
 
 And all had been said. 
 
 General Mather looked at Jack, and then looked at
 
 352 THE REAL WORLD 
 
 the fire. Jack knew later how great a risk he had asked 
 the General to run. Moreover, in the last years there 
 had been severe losses on many of the Mather invest 
 ments. Other Western railroads, and mines also, had 
 ceased to pay their fixed charges. Ever since Green- 
 acre and Co. had failed, General Mather had lost money. 
 He was no longer a very rich man. 
 
 These considerations were doubtless passing through 
 the old man's mind, and others also, which would be 
 difficult to state in exact terms. It was said among his 
 financial associates that Mather had lost none of his 
 shrewdness, his tenacious grasp, the money-making 
 trick, in spite of his advanced age. The blood ran 
 thinner, the transparent skin grew whiter, but the cold 
 blue eyes were as piercing as ever. Yet, at the begin 
 ning of his seventieth year, the old man was, possibly, 
 in a more favorable mood for committing a rash quixotism 
 than ever before in his life. He had never cherished any 
 illusions about most aspects of life, and least of all about 
 his sons. That they were futile people, he had accepted 
 years ago as a grim irony. He had, nevertheless, scarcely 
 considered whether it would be well to leave in their 
 weak hands his estate. Like many men of his class he 
 had skilfully contrived a trust into which his fortune 
 would go until the third generation appeared, in the 
 rague hope that this future generation might be strong 
 enough to hold it. 
 
 As he listened to the young lawyer's arguments, there 
 fore, he was not much disturbed by fears of loss of prop 
 erty. To keep his wealth, to hand it on to the uncertain
 
 THE REAL WORLD 353 
 
 future, did not appeal so strongly to the old man as it 
 would have appealed to him years before. Moreover, the 
 plea for justice, which his daughter had urged Jack to 
 make the bulwark of his argument, had its effect. The 
 sense of justice detached itself *~~ personal considera 
 tions, from petty human motives ; as years before it had 
 urged him to the great conflict, now it urged him old, 
 passionless, removed from the stress of life to perform 
 an unselfish act. Thus the old man ended where the 
 young man began. From out the shifting panorama of 
 his life, with all its experience of men, good and bad, 
 in labor to obtain their desires, few considerations ap 
 pealed to him as important, steadfast, eternal, as did 
 this consideration of human justice. 
 
 The old man still thought to himself, while Jack 
 waited, counting the moments and wondering what was 
 passing behind the bloodless face opposite him. ... It 
 was an unbusinesslike, young man's scheme. The General 
 knew that well enough. He knew the inhuman laws 
 of human business. He knew the chicanery of Wall 
 Street no one better. He knew that when one man 
 had an advantage he must press it, even if he squeezed 
 the breath of life from some unknown neighbor. He 
 had never mixed philanthropy and business. But now, 
 when he was about to relinquish his share in the human 
 game, the desire to win no longer drove him on. He 
 looked down upon life and saw writ large therein a 
 few truths, mercy, trust, justice. 
 
 " I will write the necessary letters this afternoon," he 
 said quietly, when he had finished his meditation. 
 
 2A
 
 354 THE HEAL WOKLD 
 
 " You will withdraw from the majority bondholders ! " 
 Jack stammered, scarcely comprehending. 
 
 "No," the old man responded, with a slow smile. 
 "The minority will become the majority that is what 
 you want, isn't it ? My daughter wishes you to dine with 
 us. We dine at one o'clock. You will find her in the 
 library across the hall. Good morning, Mr. Pemberton." 
 
 There was something cold and distant even in the old 
 man's amenities. Jack left him without thanking him, 
 subtly aware that the considerations which had induced 
 the General to act were not ones that called for thanks. 
 When Jack opened the door to the library, Miss Mather 
 rose from her desk, where she had been writing a letter, 
 and came to meet him, an expectant smile upon her face. 
 
 " You succeeded ? " 
 
 " I think the General had his good night ! " 
 
 " Oh ! Papa is a dear ! You have to present things 
 to him in proper form, though," Miss Mather rejoined, 
 thus admitting her woman's share in the triumph. 
 " And I presented a few ! " 
 
 "I felt that!" Jack exclaimed. "Without you we 
 should have lost." 
 
 "Perhaps. But now you want to send some tele 
 grams, don't you ? And write letters ? This afternoon 
 you shall do no business ! " 
 
 She left him to send his telegrams, against his will, 
 for he was eager to go over the affair, to savor all the 
 pleasure of the triumph with this intelligent, sympa 
 thetic woman. But he sat down at her desk and did 
 as he was bid.
 
 THE REAL WORLD 355 
 
 After dinner they strolled through the garden, where 
 the first tentative shoots of spring were pushing their 
 way in the May sunshine. They came to the old pavil 
 ion at the end of the garden, where once Jack had 
 concealed the loot taken from old man Cliff's fertile beds. 
 It had been repaired, and held some garden chairs and a 
 table for the tea service. 
 
 " Do you remember that I used to break through into 
 this place, and you came here until " 
 
 " Yes," Miss Mather interrupted, slowly blushing. " I 
 remember very well! I must have been a nasty little 
 girl" 
 
 "You couldn't understand when I tried to explain 
 how some things were real and some were not, and how 
 hard it was to know which were really real, those that 
 most people thought were so, or the other things 1 " 
 
 " I understand now a little better." 
 
 " It was odd ! " Jack mused. " It has all been odd 
 until very lately. I don't wonder you thought I was not 
 a desirable acquaintance," he continued, with a laugh. 
 " But it was true, what I tried to tell you ; the deepest 
 truth I knew. There were two worlds ! And only very 
 lately I discovered which was real." 
 
 They talked through the long afternoon, intimately, as 
 if they had gone back to the simple time when they were 
 boy and girl. He told her of the dreams he had dreamed, 
 which were more real than what people called the world ; 
 of the struggle that had made up his life between these 
 two worlds; of the conquest by the dead benumbing 
 world during the years he had labored in New York,
 
 356 THE REAL WOELD 
 
 and of the final escape, the truths he had never spoken, 
 had but half realized ; the truths a man speaks of rarely, 
 if he cherishes them. 
 
 " And now I know," he said, speaking as much to him 
 self as to her. " Life is splendidly real ! This promise 
 of your father is a part of it. ... He mustn't lose ! " 
 he broke off grimly. 
 
 " He will not lose." she answered, with conviction. 
 
 " No ! Stevenson will feel double obligation, now. 
 How relieved he must be ! He can go back to that town 
 and look his neighbors in the face. The men who have 
 trusted him will not be ruined." 
 
 They walked slowly to the terrace, Jack's mind still 
 full of this topic. 
 
 " It is a great thing to have kept faith ! " he exclaimed, 
 thinking of Stevenson and the troubled affairs of the 
 Iowa and Northern. 
 
 "Yes," the woman responded, looking at Jack, her 
 eyes illuminated with a larger thought. " It is a great 
 thing to have kept faith with life ! "
 
 EPILOGUE 
 
 AFTER the days of heavy September rain the sky is 
 purest blue along the North Shore, and the air so trans 
 parent that the distant hills of Green Bay mount firm 
 and large from the water's edge. The westerly wind 
 sweeps across the Bay, crowding far out to the open sea 
 the last wreaths of the broken fog-banks. Then the 
 restless summer people have scattered ; their houses and 
 hotels are closed and forlorn. But the little white cot 
 tages of the farms shine like beacons along the shore. 
 The great peace of winter casts its shadow before, and 
 with the heavens washed clean and fair the seasons seem 
 to sleep. 
 
 In this October beneficence Jack returned to Pemberton 
 Neck. The tasks of the year had been done. And the 
 larger enterprises of youth and manhood were pushing 
 forth toward their completion. The Iowa and Northern 
 had been reorganized and not rifled. In the new road 
 he had his place. His brother Steve had come from the 
 Ohio prison, and had gone with his wife and child to one 
 of Stevenson's wheat farms in the Red River valley. 
 Mary and Euth's children were happy in his home at 
 Mound City. . . . 
 
 As the steamer swept into the Bay, his eye fell upon 
 the dimpled crest of the hills where he had once lain 
 
 367
 
 358 THE BEAL WORLD 
 
 down to dream. He remembered the vision of his dream, 
 the face that had come to him from time to time in 
 the stress of his life, a face unlike any that he had ever 
 met. Then he turned to his companion whose eyes had 
 followed his gaze, and something therein new-born, some 
 new revelation of spirit, touched the features he loved. 
 She spoke to him now as she had spoken to him as a boy 
 in his dream, with tenderness and appeal and love.
 
 A BEAUTIFUL BOOK 
 
 LORNA DOONE 
 
 EXMOOR EDITION. Ev R. D. BLACKMORR 
 
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 and fifty drawings, initial letters, head and tail pieces, etc , 
 by some of the best American Artists, among whom are 
 Henry Sandham, George Wharton Edwards, W. H. 
 Drake, Harry Fenn, and Wm. Hamilton Gibson. Un 
 doubtedly the most elaborate and expensively printed 
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 A Hard Luck Story 
 
 By HENRY M. BLOSSOM, JR. 
 Author of "The Documents in Evidence" 
 
 Abounds in the most racy and picturesque slang. N. 
 T. Recorder. 
 
 'Checkers" is an interesting and entertaining chap, 
 a distinct type, with a separate tongue and a way of 
 saying things that is oddly humorous. Chicago Record. 
 
 If I had to ride from New York to Chicago on a slow 
 train, I should like a half-dozen books as gladsome as 
 Checkers' ' and I could laugh at the trip. N. T. Ctm- 
 mercial Advertiser. 
 
 "Checkers" himself is as distinct a creation as Chim- 
 mie Fadden and his racy slang expresses a livelier wit. 
 The racing part is clever reporting and as horsey and 
 * 'up-to-date" as any one could ask. The slang of the 
 race-course is caught with skill and is vivid and pictur 
 esque, and students of the byways of language may find 
 some new gems of colloquial speach to add to their lexi 
 cons. Springfield Republican. 
 
 A new popular edition just issued, in attractive cloth 
 binding, small I2mo in size. Price, 75 cents, postpaid. 
 
 GROSSET & DUNLAP 
 
 52 Duane Street, :: :: :: New York
 
 BREWSTER'S MILLIONS 
 
 BY 
 
 GEORGE BARR McCUTCHEON 
 
 41/Thc hero is a young New Yorker of good parts who, 
 to save an inheritance of seven millions, starts out to 
 spend a fortune of one million within a year. An eccen 
 tric uncle, ignorant of the earlier legacy, leaves him 
 seven millions to be delivered at the expiration of a year, 
 on the condition that at that time he is penniless, and 
 has proven himself a capable business man, able to 
 manage his own affairs. The problem that confronts 
 Brewster is to spend his legacy without proving himself 
 either reckless or dissipated. He has ideas about the dis 
 position of the seven millions which are not those of the 
 uncle when he tried to supply an alternative in case the 
 nephew failed him. His adventures in pursuit of poverty 
 are decidedly of an unusual kind, and his disappoint 
 ments are funny in quite a new way. The situation is 
 developed with an immense amount of humor. 
 
 OTHER BOOKS BY THE SAME AUTHOR: 
 GRAUSTARK, The Story of a Love behind a Throne. 
 CASTLE CRANEYCROW. THE SHERRODS. 
 
 Handsime doth bound vo/umts, 5 ctnts each. 
 
 At all Booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by 
 the Publishers. 
 
 GROSSET & DUNLAP :: NEW YORK
 
 The Pleasures of Literature 
 and the Solace of Books 
 
 COMPILED BY JOSEPH SHALER WITH 
 AN INTRODUCTION BY ANDREW LANG 
 
 A volume that will appeal to every book lover, pre 
 senting, as it does, in chaste and elegant style, the 
 thoughts of great men of all ages on books and the read 
 ing thereof. 
 
 A particularly dainty and appropriate gift for the 
 reader or student, and one that is sure to be appreciated. 
 
 Printed en the finest deckle edge paper and bound in 
 the best silk finished cloth, with frtntispiect and rubricated 
 title page. Elaborate cover design in gold. Price , $l.OO 
 
 Mrs. Jerningham's Journal 
 John Jerningham's Journal 
 
 The re-publication of this exquisite love story in verse 
 is an event that will be heartily welcomed by those who 
 can appreciate beauty of sentiment when presented in 
 an unusual guise. No book is so appropriate for a dainty 
 and inexpensive wedding gift. 
 
 Two vtlumes, small I2mo in size , printed en the highest 
 grade deckle edge paper and bound in light green clttb with 
 ivory and green decorations. Encased in a fiat box. 
 
 Price, $1.50 per set, postpaid. 
 
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 , 52 Duane Street, NEW YORK.
 
 Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam 
 
 Rendered into English verse by Edward Fitzgerald. A 
 correct version of the text of the Fourth Edition, with 
 accurate notes, a biography of both Omar and Fitzger 
 ald, and a Poetical Tribute by Andrew Lang, together 
 with a remarkable descriptive and comparative article by 
 Edward S. Holden. Beautifully printed in two colon on 
 deckel edge paper, with decorative borders, fourteen 
 half-tone illustrations by Gilbert James, and a portrait of 
 Fitzgerald. Gilt tops, attractively bound in cloth and 
 gold and each volume encased in a flat box with cover. 
 Size, $% x 7$/ s . PRICE, $1.25. 
 THE SAME, small izmo in size, handsomely bound in 
 cloth and printed on the finest deckle edge paper, with 
 the fifteen illustrations in two colors, and containing the 
 same matter as the foregoing volume. PRICE, 5oc. 
 THE SAME, small 1 2mo in size, exquisitely bound in 
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 PRICE, $1.00. 
 
 THE SAME, in booklet form, 24 pages, printed in two 
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 KIPLING'S POEMS, BARRACK ROOM 
 BALLADS, DEPARTMENTAL DITTIES, ETC. 
 
 Two volumes in one, with glossary. Fourteen full-page 
 pen-and-ink drawings together with a new portrait of the 
 author. Handsomely bound in cloth, gilt tops, and 
 printed on old Chester antique deckel edge paper. Size, 
 5^x75/6 in -> 34 P a es - PRICE, $1.50. 
 
 All books sent postpaid on receipt af price. 
 
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 52 Duane Street :: :: :: :: NEW YORK
 
 THE POPULAR NOVELS OF 
 
 A. W. MARCHMONT 
 
 NOW OFFERED IN HANDSOMELY MADE 
 CLOTH BOUND EDITIONS AT LOW PRICES 
 
 Few writers of recent years have achieved such a wide 
 popularity in this particular field as has Mr. Marchmont. 
 For rattling good stories of love, intrigue, adventure, 
 plots and counter-plots, we know of nothing better, and 
 to the reader who has become surfeited with the analyti 
 cal and so-called historical novels of the day, we heartily 
 commend them. There is life, movement, animation, 
 on every page, and for a tedious railway journey or a 
 dull rainy afternoon, nothing could be better. They will 
 make you forget your troubles. 
 
 The following five volumes are now ready in our 
 popular copyright series: 
 
 BY RIGHT OF SWORD 
 
 With illustrations by POWELL CHASE. 
 
 A DASH FOR A THRONE 
 
 With illustrations by D. MURRAY SMITH. 
 
 MISER HOADLEY'S SECRET 
 
 With illustrations by CLARE ANGELL. 
 
 THE PRICE OF FREEDOM 
 
 With illustrations by CLARE ANGELL. 
 
 THE HERITAGE OF PERIL 
 
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 Large i imo in size, handsomely bound in cloth, 
 
 uniform in style. 
 Price 75 cents per volume, postpaid. 
 
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 Tales of the Ex-Tanks 
 
 A BOOK OF HARD LUCK STORIES 
 By CLARENCE LOUIS CULLEN 
 
 Under the above title we have published a volume of 
 stories or sketches that treat of the "strenuous life" 
 from the viewpoint of men who have been up against the 
 real thing. 
 
 It is a book of tales of good fellows who have won out 
 from many odd and humorous predicaments, in many 
 sections of the United States, after having played too 
 assiduous tag with the Flagon, likewise the Tankard, 
 similarly the Bowl; and if, after reading this book, you 
 will not conclude that there is no old rummy game of 
 hard luck from which a man of fair wit can't win out with 
 an even break then we'll stand for a correction; that's all. 
 
 From the Chief Ex-Tank down to No. 1 3, the Hoodoo 
 Ex-Tank, they are all live ones; and they're all stake 
 clasi. If you've ever got a tolar plexus or an uppercut 
 from the mallet-like fist of that top-notch heavyweight of 
 them all Hard Luck these reminiscences of the Ex- 
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 riences with a sense of mellow recognition. 
 
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 man of to-day has yet been published. 
 
 Bound in cloth, with characteristic cover design 75* cents. 
 
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 Town Topics says; "The book is full of laughter. 
 No student to American slang can afford to pass it by."
 
 NEW EDITIONS IN UNIFORM BINDING 
 
 WORKS OF 
 
 F. MARION CRAWFORD 
 
 izmo, Cloth, each 75 cents, postpaid 
 
 VIA CRUCIS : A Romance of the Second Crusade. 
 
 Illustrated by Louis Loeb. 
 
 Mr. Crawford hat manifestly brought his best qualities 
 os a student of history, and his finest resources as a master 
 af an original and picturesque style, to bear upon this story. 
 
 MR. ISAACS : A Tale of Modern India. 
 
 Under an unpretentious title we have here one of the 
 most brilliant novels that has been given to the world. 
 
 THE WEART OF ROME. 
 
 The legend of a buried treasure under the walls of the 
 palace of Conn, known to but few, provides the frame 
 work for many exciting incidents. 
 
 SARACINESCA 
 
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 the Pope's temporal power. 
 
 SANT' ILARIO ; A Sequel to Saracinesca. 
 
 A singularly powerful and beautiful story, fulfilling every 
 requirement of artistic fiction. 
 
 IN THE PALACE OF THE KING: A Love Story 
 
 of Old Madrid. Illustrated. 
 
 The imaginative richness, the marvellous ingenuity of 
 plot, and the charm of romantic environment, rank this 
 novel among the great creations. 
 
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 The QUEST of HAPPINESS 
 
 A Study of the Victory over Life's Troubles. By NEW- 
 ILL DWIGHT HILLIS, Pastor of Plymouth Congrega 
 tional Church, Brooklyn. Cloth, Decorated Border, 
 75C., postpaid. 
 
 It is a consummate statement of the highest conception 
 of the nature of human life, and of the only methods by 
 which its meaning and possibilities can be attained. A 
 serene satisfaction with God's method of moral govern 
 ment breathes from every page and makes the teacher 
 trustworthy. CHARLES FREDERICK Goss. 
 
 The Quest of Happiness " is Dr. Hillis' very best 
 book. It is strong, vivid, clear, and has a certain indefin 
 able human quality which will be sure to give it a large 
 circulation and make it a source of great helpfulness. 
 AUORY H. BRADFORD, Pastor of the First Congrega 
 tional Church, Montclair, N. J. 
 
 I find "The Quest of Happiness " a very rich and 
 beautiful work. It is eminently a book for the home. 
 PHILIP S. MOXON, Pastor of South Congregational 
 Church, Springfield, Mass. 
 
 HAPPINESS 
 
 Essays on the Meaning of Life. By CARL HILTT. 
 
 Translated by Francis Greenwood Peabody, Pro 
 fessor of Christian Morals, Harvard University, 
 Cambridge. 12 mo, cloth, 75 cents, postpaid. 
 Great numbers of thoughtful people are just now much 
 perplexed to know what to make of the facts of life, and 
 are looking around them for some reasonable interpreta 
 tion of the modern world. To this state of mind the 
 reflections of Prof. Hilty have already brought much reas 
 surance and composure. 
 
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 New and Cheaper 'Editions of Books by 
 
 Mr. Hamilton Mabie 
 
 I2mo, cloth, 75 cents per copy, postpaid 
 
 PARABLES OF LIFE 
 
 Poetic in conception* vivid and true in imagery, deli 
 cately clear and pure in diction, these little pieces belong 
 to Mr. Mabie' s finest and strongest work. HENRY VAN 
 DYKE. 
 
 WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE 
 
 Poet, Dramatist, Man 
 
 Professor F. H. Stoddard speaks or this work at 
 '* almost unique in Shakespeare literature, in it that is a 
 continuous and thoroughly worked out study of the whole 
 personality of Shakespeare." 
 
 A BOOK OF OLD ENGLISH LOVE SONGS 
 
 Edited by Hamilton Mabie. Superbly illustrated with 
 Drawings and Decorations by George Wharton Edwards. 
 
 One of the daintiest specimens of bookmaking, designed to serve 
 both as a gift book and work of reference. 
 
 A BOOK OF OLD ENGLISH BALLADS 
 
 Edited by Hamilton Mabie. Superbly illustrated with 
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 BOOKS ON ART 
 
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 This volume aims to present in a popular and non 
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 ROMAN AND MEDIEVAL ART. By W. H. 
 GOODYEAR, M.A. New edition, revised and en 
 larged. Profusely illustrated. I2tno, cloth. 
 The epochs treated in this work, those of the Romans 
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 trate the text. 
 
 A HISTORY OF GREEK ART. With an Intro 
 ductory Chapter on Art in Egypt and Mesopotamia. 
 By PROF. T. B. TARBELL, of the University of 
 Chicago. Profusely illustrated. I2mo, cloth. 
 This book has been written in the conviction that the 
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 THE CALL OF THE WILD 
 
 With Illustrations by Philip R. Goodwin and Charles Livingiton Bull 
 Decorated by Charles Edward Hopper 
 
 "A tale that is literature . . . the unity of its plan 
 and the firmness of its execution are equally remarkable 
 ... a story that grips the reader deeply. It is art, it 
 
 is literature It stands apart, far apart with 
 
 so much skill, so much reasonableness, so much convinc 
 ing logic." N. Y, Mail And Express. 
 
 'A big story in sober English, and with thorough art 
 in the construction ... a wonderfully perfect bit of 
 work. The dog adventures are as exciting as any man's 
 exploits could be, and Mr. London's workmanship is 
 wholly satisfying." The New York Sun. 
 
 " The story is one that will stir the blood of every 
 lover of a life in its closest relation to nature. Whoever 
 loves the open or adventure for its own sake will find 
 'The Call of the Wild* a most fascinating book." 
 The Brooklyn Eagle. 
 
 THE SEA WOLF 
 
 Illustrated by W. J. Aylward 
 
 ' This story surely has the pure Stevenson ring, the 
 adventurous glamour, the vertebrate stoicism. 'Tis surely 
 the story of the making of a man, the sculptor being 
 Captain Larsen, and the clay, the ease-loving, well-to-do, 
 half-drowned man, to all appearances his helpless prey." 
 Critic. 
 
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 his or her veins, will agree that the trite saying applies to 
 the attention which this story commands. New York Sun. 
 
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 There are no dragging intervals in this volume : from the 
 moment of their landing on the island until the rescuing 
 crew find them there, there is not a dull moment for the 
 young people nor for the reader either." Nem York 
 Times. 
 
 THE KING OF DIAMONDS 
 
 Verily, Mr. Tracy is a prince of story-tellers. His 
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 that of a rainbow. The reader is carried along by the 
 robust imagination of the author. San Francisco Exam 
 iner. 
 
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