^UlBRAl i-i **j ^/m\iNr MATTHEW DOYLE. BY Will Garland. AUTHOR OF BROKEN LOCKET," "CONGRESS." ETC. NEW YOR K : G. W. Dillingham Co., Publishers, MDCCCC. COPYRIGHT, 1900, BY G. W. DILLINGHAM COMPANY. \AU rights rtservcd.] Matthew Doyle. i TO That solid class of American Citizens, North, South, East and West, who believe in, and work for, just laws by the legislature, speedy interpretation of them by the judiciary, and their fearless enforcement by the execu- tive, this book is DEDICATED. 2Q62G53 PUBLISHERS NOTICE. Matthew Doyle will be universally read and com- mented upon. Coming as it does, from the pen of a Southerner who entertains forcible ideas on the prevail- ing evil of lynching, and who has the power to put those ideas in telling, at times burning, words, the novel will command the attention of all, and the support of that solid class of people to whom it is dedicated. As a story, Matthew Doyle is interesting from the start, and grows deeply fascinating as the simple plot is unfolded. The high ideals of disinterested friendship between rivals, unswerving fealty to duty at a tragic crisis, and the wages of lawlessness, and the reward of magnani- mity are woven together with strands of love, laughter and pathos; and, at last, when we see the beautiful vision of a Yankee heroine and Dixie hero in future's dreamland, we cry, "Well done!" The book is written with a true conception of the seriousness of the theme of Lynch Law, and it is not too much to prophesy that Matthew Doyle will leave as indelible an impress on the subject of the day, as did " Uncle Tom's Cabin " on slavery. CONTENTS. CHAFTBR PACK I. " Them Butter Balls." . . . .11 II. Neckties and Principle . . . .26 III. " M' Neil " and "Dear " . . . .39 IV. Andy Dodd 52 V. Wicked Bill Ott . . . . . .61 VI. Terrapin and Teacher . . . .68 VII. The Deacon and the Joke . . . .78 VHI. The Joke ....... 88 IX. " Pedro." X. Judge Lynch as a Theory . XI. More Theories XII. Her? XIII. Deacon Doyle Duty XIV. Duty XV. Love and Principle .... XVI. Magnanimity ..... XVII. Andy Dodd, Gent .... XVIII. Hicks, Pedro & Co XIX. "Help !" 10 CONTENTS. CHAPTER PACK XX. The Storm Gathers . . . . .216 XXI. Judge Lynch as a Condition . . .227 XXII. The Harvest . . . . . .241 XXIII. The Cost . 251 XXIV. The Roman Father . ,\ . . . 258 XXV. The Old Story Ever New . . .274 MATTHEW DOYLE. CHAPTEE I. " THEM BUTTER BALLS. Mat Doyle was leaning over the fence, a busy person would say, in a lazy attitude, but in fact not. Mat Doyle was such a tall, angular fellow, and looked so loose in the joints well, to catch at random for an illustration, he reminded me of one of these bicycles; just as long as he was in motion it was all right, but let him come to a stop and there had to be a house, or fence, or something of that sort about, else Mat, like the bicycle, would uncer- emoniously obey the law of gravitation. Yet this wasn't laziness or indolence; it wasn't from any desire to lay around, but simply, for one thing, Mat was none of your jump-at-a-fact-straddle-a-rule fellows ; he was deliberative to a nicety, even pausing to give such a trivial and oft-recur- ring operation as batting his eyes due consideration before proceeding to bat, and hence, for another thing, when he paused in locomotion, he leaned or reclined: and I'm sure that's a deal more Christian than flying in the face [it] 12 MATTHEW DOYLE. of Providence, and saying: "See here, Mother Nature, you put me together, now attend to my standing alone." So, on the occasion of which I am speaking, Mat was leaning over the fence. He held in the crook of his left arm an inverted straw hac, mostly straw, and very little hat; but what hat there was constituted, for the nonce, a receptacle for a quart or so of acorns. A fine old oak stood midway between the house and gate, and Mat, after work, and while he was waiting on supper, in acorn time, would come around from the horse lot and gather a hatful of acorns for his pigs. It was a study in what shall I call it ? say, suppressed speed, to watch Mat get his acorns. When he came well under the branches of the oak he would twirl his hat down, bottom side up, stoop over, and in a creeping fashion, such as Indians, and robbers, and bad men in dime novels assume, would circle around the hat, nipping in acorns, one, two, and three at a time, never missing an acorn, never missing the hat, and never missing a step. From the moment he threw in an armful of fodder for the mules' dessert, until he came to a halt at the fence, Mat never stopped. The fence reached, he would heave to with a contented "h-ehy," and begin call- ing, "soo, pig, soo-i, soo-i, soo-o-o pig.''' He always called, whether the pigs were there or not, although they gen- erally managed to be there. They lounged around Uncle Alec McNeil's corner or Old Man Dodd's post-office pretty much all day in late summer, and when the afternoon train whistled they would start for home, arriving at the fenca while their master was switching off for the acorns. Then began a squealing! To glance at them, only three fat little Poland China shoats, you wouldn't guess there was so much noise in them, but every time Mat threw in an "THEM BUTTER BALLS." 13 acorn they would squeal. I've often wondered why in the world Circe wanted to change her victims into swine: she is reported to have had a good many strings to her mythological bow, and when they were all so many lusty- lunged porkers bawling about her, it must have sounded worse than a session of Congress. I expect, though, the truth of the matter is, only hog-hobbiests, like Mat Doyle and Circe, have that afflatus to see more in a pig than mere breakfast bacon and lard. When his pigs began saying grace, as Betty Doyle called it, Mat's fingers flew a trifle faster, until shortly the crown was brimf ull ; then he would wheel back on the main line for the fence. Mat loved everything on the farm poultry, cattle all, with the minuteness of a penal statute, came in for a share of his affection. Even old Ball, who had been a gallant deer hound in his day, but who was now ending a sportsman's career after the orthodox sportsman-like fashion, i. e., telling monstrous yarns to the young dogs and sniffing contemptuously at anything in the way of game brought on the place (but not refusing to eat the nestor's share, mind you), even old Ball received his daily kind word; but the pigs, "them butter balls," as Uncle Alec McXeil dubbed them, stood away up, first and fore- most in Mat's big heart of course, in that part of his heart devoted to dumb brutes. Whenever Mother Doyle began to talk about the smoke- house and what it was going to contain for the coming winter, and otherwise steer uncomfortably close to " them butter balls," Mat would remark that middlin' was so cheap along now it would'nt pay a fellow to kill any for cold weather. One evening Mother Doyle joined him at the fence and exclaimed: 14 MATTHEW DOYLE. " My land ! Matthew, won't they be powerful fat against Thanksgiving?" and he replied, "Yes'm, mother, but they'll be bigger'n that another year." And Mother Doyle, from whom her son inherited his big heart, made up her mind, then and there, that those pigs would live just as long as it was pleasing to Mat and the Lord. Moreover, she told Betty, on the quiet, that " Mat's darlings shouldn't be touched," and Betty, who thought her big brother was absolutely the best old Mat in creation, and who wasn't far wrong, either, but being, nevertheless, a bit of a tease, would ask him at table how the pigs were coming on, and then add to mother: " Oh, won't the sausages be glorious next Christmas !" But Mother Doyle would tip her a wink to quit, and Betty, who was always too busy bringing in dishes and such like to sit down, would hug Mat and coddle him, company or no company. One evening, when Betty had poked some innocent jibe at him and buried it under a hug and a kiss, Mother Doyle said, a little quickly : " Never mind, Matthew, she just wants to practise up for Andy." She intended the sally to help Mat out, who was slow at such things with the women folks, but she forgot, for the moment, that Andy Dodd's name sounded unpleasing to her son. The twitching of his lips as their smile swiftly faded, and the dropping of his eyes from Betty's face to his plate, reminded her, and she repented the words. How- ever, I'm away off from the fence. There leaned Mat, chucking acorns down and murmuring, "soo, little fellows, soo-i," and he failed to notice Dud Trenome riding by. Dud almost passed Mat, too, without looking up. That would have been meat for talk, for the two young men were in plain sight of three neighbors' houses, to say nothing of Uncle Alec McNeil, who, everybody said, could see "THEM BUTTER BALLS." 1 5 right through his customer's pockets and tell how much money was there and Uncle Alec was standing on his store porch some quarter down the street. Unfortunately for gossip, the two boys once babymates, then schoolmates, and now grown-up-mates, and never yet an unfriendly or unkind word between them spied each other at the same instant, the one through his engrossing pig feeding and the other through a spell of thinking. " Feedin' 'em, are you/' called Dud, giving his rein a pull to one side and coming to the fence. " Yep howdy, how are you soo-i." " Just so, so ; how's all ?" " First rate though mother's been a-workin' too hard." That was Mat's standing opinion fancied, for Mother Doyle had to almost fight with him and Betty time and again to be allowed to bear ever so small a fraction of the domestic labor. Between you and me, if we fellows always fancied that same thing, we would'nt be hearing near so much about how run down our mothers look. " Been over to town ?" continued Mat. "Yeh first time I been in in nigh a week, but they had a meeting to-day." "The directors?" "Yeh an' I might just as well a-stayed at home." t( Huh ; 'd they go against you ? soo-i-pigs." "Yeh that's to be expected. Story owes Hicks for the lumber in his house, and 'course he votes with him." " Huh, that ain't right if it's so." " Pshaw, Mat, everybody knows it's so ; Story never paid a debt, 'cept to make a bigger one." "He paid me for that cow." " Oh, I didn't mean you, old boy, 'cause there ain't any- body 'round here that's goin' to try to beat you." l6 MATTHEW DOYLE. " That's 'cause mother's a widder." " No 'taint it's 'cause you're honest and anybody knows if they try to beat you there ain't a jury in the county but what'll give you damages." "Huh we won't argue it, Dud." "No; first thing I'd know you'd have it proved to me that you're worse'n Hicks just to carry your point." Mat laughed at the compliment to his " lawyer's kink," which was the name Dud gave it down at Uncle Alec McNeil's one night. He said: "Gen'lemen, I'll be dad blamed if Mat Doyle can't argue a man right out of his boots; he's got a reg'lar lawyer's kink though Mat's too honest to ever make a lawyer, I'm here to tell you." " So they were too many for you ?" asked Mat, referring to Dud's first words. " Yeh ; I'm glad my term's up against another fall. Talk about school director to me. Pshaw!" " What they ben a-doin' ?" "Oh, you know we been hanging fire on the assistant up at the school. There was Annie Eose and Tilda Hum- phrey right here in Pike put in their bids. Annie lives little nighest my place, but I made up my mind I wasn't goin' to be partial. Annie or Tilda suited me. "Well, a fellow from town come down here and bid in, and a little trick of a gal from town she come down and bid. I didn't see her. I was aginst the fellow, 'cause I believe in giving the girls a show." " Huh," dissented Mat, " that's why the boys can't make enough now to support a wife the girls are takin' the jobs." " Pshaw, Mat, you can't argue me down on that ; I don't care what sort of proof you bring. Those old codgers "THEM BUTTER BALLS." I/ Plato and all the rest, who've been dead two thousand years can't ram any such stuff in my head." " Now, Dud," began Mat, throwing down the last acorn and clapping his headgear on firmly; "you know women are taking the boys' work away from 'em right and left; look at every district school in forty miles " " That ain't it, Mat," broke in Dud, " that ain't it, Sit all. If you get started right you can beat any of us arguing, but you're way off the trail. I say, give the girls all such work as teaching schools that they want. What's teaching school for a big, strapping buck like you or me? You ain't heard of any girl takin' a plough-hand's job here lately, and you ain't likely to, but I know lots of boys right here in this county who have jumped up and quit farm work gone on the railroad or into town learned enough to gamble, get drunk, spend more'n their pay, and then get fired; and what do they do? Loaf around, hunting a set-down job and mouthin' about the girls bein' teachers, and clerks, and typewriters, and that kind of thing. There's enough open land in this state to support twice as many people as we've got : let those boys come back here and follow a plough like you and me, and I'll bet they can find plenty of gals to cook up what they raise/" "Dud, you agrue too close; yon want all the boys farming." " No nope no, I don't. Mat. Get part of the boys farmin' and kep 'em at it, and there'll be enough surplus stuff raised for nearly all the rest to make up into some- thing useful; and then the few that's left over the runts those who are kinder puny like, can ship it and sell it. The engines do all the pullin', anyhow; they'd just have to put it on the cars ; and as for sellin' it and exchanging 18 MATTHEW DOYLE. it, it don't require a great sight of heavy labor to do that. If it's a good article, it sells itself, and if it ain't, fellows like Uncle Alec McXeil can sell it just the same." The two friends laughed and Mat shifted the conversa- tion back again. " Well, about the assistant did you get one ?" "Yeh they did; I didn't have nothing to do with it. As I was tellin' you, there was four bids Annie and Tilda and the man from town Bryant, or some such name and this little snip from town her name's Hennon." "You never saw her?" " No ; she came down and went back the same day put in her bid with Hicks. The boys say she wasn't bigger'n a partridge, but they voted her in." "Huh; so she got it." "Yeh; and she had the least bid of all. Annie and Tilda bid thirty dollars; the town fellow, thirty-five, and this Hennon gal knocked it down to twenty-five; and, gen'lemen, I'm here to tell you, when they commence knockin' down on as high a profession as teaching, it's time to quit.'' " Huh," grunted Mat, " teaching's nothin'." " Nothin' !" Dud exclaimed, and then solemnly : " Mat Doyle, do you and me want our children (they were both bachelors, and not even engaged) to be instructed by a person who values learnin' so little that they'll cut it down to twenty-five dollars?" Mat's eyes twinkled as he drawled : " Huh, Dud, teaching, and clerking, and typewriting ain't anything much." Dud, laughing heartily at the trap he had fallen into, reached over and tapped Mat playfully with his whip, and replied : "I see I've got to give up somethin' ; have it your "THEM BUTTER BALLS." 19 way, you old lawyer, but I stick to it, I don't believe in cuttin' down on a teacher's pay." " Nobody makes 'em cut down, Dud." " That's just what I hold, and when they come doin' it, I don't place much value on their ability to teach, do you ?" Mat changed his position a little, and pushed back his hat as he answered cautiously: " Not as a general thing ; but when a person's got to make his own living, especially a woman, in these hard times, it gets to be a purty shaving business; I tell you, want cuts mighty keen." '*' 'Course, 'course; true enough, Mat, but the boys all say this little school marm from town was dressed slick as you please; feathers, and ribbons, and what not, and I think if the wolf was gnawing through the door she could a-sorter halted him with her finery before throwin' a five-dollar bill at him." " Yep, that's so, if 'twas like the boys say. Who'd you vote for the highest bidder?" " No-o ; I told you Annie or Tilda, either one, was my candidates. That cuss who run it to thirty-five dollars pshaw! I wouldn't a- voted for him if he'd a-offered to teach free. I didn't vote. I said, 'Gen'lemen, here's two Pike County girls, biddin' at thirty dollars apiece needin' it bad ; good girls, neighbors ; I'm for either one pick straws between 'em. If you're goin' out of Pike County to teach Pike County boys and girls, d d if I'll vote !" "Dudley," remonstrated Mat, "you didn't cuss, did you, and Deacon Hicks right there?" "Yes, I did, Mat; made me so mad to see our home talent treated that way, I up and cussed, and I don't give 2O MATTHEW DOYLE. a beg pardon, Mat I don't care if Hicks does superin- tend the Sunday School." Mat saw Dud was getting wrought up, so he returned to the salary question, easy like. " But, Dud, I thought you believed in good pay." "Why, don't I?" " You didn't vote for the thirty-five-dollar bidder." " Pshaw, he's a man, an' besides, thirty dollars'll sup- port a teacher here handsomely ! Thirty -five dollars ! and him a man, and single ! Gosh, he wanted a good thing, I reckon." "Oh! I see," murmured Mat, innocently. " 'Course," Dud went on, thinking he had him. " When you look at it right, I knew you would. But I couldn't make them see it. They picked the town girl, and all over a paltry five-dollar note. I'd a-been willin' to give the county the difference." Mat smiled at the varying magnitudes Dud gave to five dollars, enlarging and contracting it with the ease of a capitalist, or national banker. " Hicks got mad over it, too," Dud pursued. " Huh, something new, Hicks losing his temper." "Well, he didn't exactly, as you might say, lose his temper. He thought I was votin' against the town marm 'cause she was from New Hampshire, when I didn't know she was from there till he said so. After I made my speech and told 'em I wouldn't go outside of Pike, Hicks said something about my not wanting Miss Hennon 'cause she was from up yonder. You know he bites and chews his words till you have to guess at half he says, but I heard 'Miss Hennon' an' 'New Hampshire/ and I said., ' I don't keer where she comes from Xew Hampshire or New Zealand's all the same to me the question is, we've "THEM BUTTER BALLS." 21 got merit in Pike County, and if we're goin' to go outside of Pike., what's the use of teaching the children at all? There bein' educated won't get 'em a job here, 'cause we'll have to be forever importin' our teachers and the like. Mat opened his lips to say something, very probably argue the point with Dud, when Betty called from the porch that supper was ready, and then, recognizing Dud, she tripped down the front steps and came along the walk, fanning her flushed face for dear life with her apron. "Hello, Betty," called Dud, while Mat turned his head towards her and put in : " Come here, Betsy ; I've got four pigs out here," pointing to Dud, who was leaning on the pommel of his saddle. " Ha ! that fourth must a-been lost In the range," Betty replied, and then to Dud: " I don't know whether I ought to say hello to you or not; you're such a stranger." "Well, you see, I been powerful busy." "I say busy! Sparkin' all those purty girls back of your place." "No, I ain't Betty, and if I knew you wasn't just fishing for a compliment, I'd tell you on which side of my place the purtiest girl lives," and Dud winked at Mat, who was very much tickled to see somebody tease Betty he never could. " Then what's kept you away ?" asked Betty, coming to her brothers side and twisting his ear for laughing at Dud's banter. " That last book Mat lent me ; it's such a long one, and BO interestin', I ain't laid it down hardly long enough to feed my stock or me." "How do you like it?" queried Mat. 22 MATTHEW DOYLE. "First rate, though I didn't like the way that girl acted." " Which book is it, Mat?" Betty asked. "Ten Thousand a Year." "Oh! Have you been reading that?" she exclaimed. "Well, I should say it is long; but it's fine, though. I read it at least I read all about Kate and that Earl, or what-you-may-call-him wasn't he grand? But I couldn't stand the rest; that Titmouse man ugh! wasn't he a wretch r "What was wrong with the girl?" interposed Mat, who scented a struggle. "Why, when she and her folks lost their home and that fellow Betty mentioned the youngster who got beat for Parliament when he wanted to help her and the rest she wouldn't have it. Now I hold that was wrong plain foolishness." " She couldn't accept aid from him," Mat remarked. " Pshaw ! Yes she could, if she hadn't been so proud. Pride don't mix with poverty worth a cuss." " But you see, he loved her." " So much the more reason for him helpin' her and her takin' it ; what's love good for, anyhow, if it can't stand all sorts of weather; and what was the sense of lettin' her brother go to jail, and all of ? em livin' on suff ranee, you might say, when that boy was just a-itching to help 'em out ? If I'd a-been him, dog-goned if I wouldn't a-gone to a store and said: 'Here, you send those folks everything they need right along and charge to me." " That's all right, Dud ; but there's the principle of the thing you've got to look at." " Principle be hanged ! Mat, you're the beatenest fellow "THEM BUTTER BALLS.'* 23 about principle. Principle didn't pay their debts. Prin- ciple didn't " "But look here, Dud " Mat was about to launch out, and, for aught we know, lug in all those codgers who, Dud said, had been cold for twenty centuries, but Betty broke up the impromptu debate. She wasn't much of a hand to either argue or listen to it. Her opinions wouldn't bear arguing; not that they were necessarily wrong, but she said she wasn't going to the trouble of forming notions and then be argued out of them; let people keep their views and she would do likewise. So, without ado, she said, throwing her arm around Mat's shoulder: " Supper ain't goin' to wait on Ten Thousand A Year, and by the time you two have your hands washed I'll have Dud's horse 'round to the barn and feedin.' '' "Much obliged, Betty, but I come off and left my window up." " Oh ! who's goin' to steal anything from an old bach- elor like you, and if they do it won't matter; maybe it'll teach you to get one of those girls back in the hills to come and keep house." She came out of the gate as she spoke and stood by his pony's bridle, and continued. " Light and go in my cookin' ain't a-goin' to hurt you." Mother Do}-le appeared on the porch at that moment. Betty and Mat not coming, she stepped out to see if the pigs had run off with them. "Is that you, Dudley?" she called, shading her eyes. " Well, your plate's on the table, so you needn't be settin' up there like you just stopped to say howdy. 'Light and come in." "There, now," said Betty. "Um huh," remarked Mat. 24 MATTHEW DOYLE. Dud slid down, as Mother Doyle's word was the end of the question, and Betty vaulted sideways into the saddle and cantered around up the lane. Dud came on through the gate, and while he and Mat advanced up the walk he called to Mother Doyle : " I been out here half an hour, but Mat, he was too busy disputin' everything I said to ask me in." " I wouldn't a-let him rode off, mother." Mother Doyle laughed as she replied: " I didn't know you had to be asked in our house, Dud- ley," and as the boys came up the steps she bent over and gave Dud's hand a kindly shake, at the same time taking both their hats and saying to Mat: "The pigs?" "Beautiful, mother, you ought to a-seen 'em this even- ing; they're fatter than they were yesterday." Betty's bustling figure appeared in the hall. She had turned the pony over to a hand and hurried in, and she added to Mat's words, winking at Dud: "Yes, ma, I never saw anything like it; Uncle Alec McXeil calls 'em butter balls, but I declare they look like sausage balls to me." " Well, Dud," broke off Mat, suddenly losing all interest in pork or its concomitants, " let's go and wash up ; Betty says supper beats time and tide at this ranch." They turned in the large hall, at one end of which was a washstand, and while Mat was pouring a bowl for Dud, the latter called to Betty, who was now in the kitchen: "Bet, how d'you like, the pony?" " Fine when'd you get her ?" "Last week; she's only a colt." " She's well broke ; I'm going to get ma to buy her when she gets her growth." "THEM BUTTER BALLS." 2$ As she said that she came ru'stling into the dining room with a big tray of biscuits and fried potatoes. " I won't sell her, Bet but tell you what I'll do : When you and Andy " Dud vas looking mischievously at Mother Doyle, but she held her finger up so quickly that he paused abruptly and stepped over to the basin : " You waitin' on me, Mat ? Beg pardon thought you were washing." He plunged in, while Mat made no reply, but took the pitcher to the well. Mother Doyle seized the instant to approach Dud and whisper, while she unfolded the towel: "Andy's drinkin' agin." " Oh !" Dud exclaimed, softly, " 111 be careful, then," and he murmured, behind the suds: "Poor Betty, she ought to marry him or bounce him, one 'r the other." Which constrains me to remark, that those alternatives are sometimes very like the proverbial forks of the road, where, whichever fork you take, you are shortly very sorry you took it. CHAPTER II. NECKTIES AND PRINCIPLE. That night, after supper, Mat rode home with Dud. Mat never had been much of a ladies' man. When he wasn't working he generally betook himself to his little room and snugged away his leisure moments reading. He possessed an old arm chair, which had been brought up from tho sitting room a chair that must surely have been built for a contortionist, for Mat never could sit upright in it. He would select a book out of his meagre but sub- stantial collection, and flop into his big chair, one foot on the bedstead, window-sill, or stove, the other flung over an arm of the chair, head within whispering distance of the seat, and in that fix he would read until Betty called for meals, or the book run out, or the blood all dammed up in his cranium. He often read on into twilight, and by so doing caused Mother Doyle to peep in and tell him how his grandpa ruined his sight that very way. But either Mat thought his eyes were much more dusk proof than his late grand- father's, or else he was too absorbed in his book. I have said before, Mat wasn't lazy, for he would give a little grunt, shift nearer the window, and continue reading. So Mother Doyle and Betty were always glad when Mat took a little turn about, and that evening Mother Doyle was a bit more glad than usual. Dud had told, at the table, all about the new school- [26] NECKTIES AND PRINCIPLE. 2? marm, and had said he thought she would report soon. In fact, the school opened very early in September, and that was the end of August. This new schoolmarm set Mother Doyle thinking thinking very vigorously along the line of domestic econ- omy. She was an adept in that science: First, a novice from necessity; then growing into an artist, solving and resolving that puzzle of making both ends meet and, what's more, keeping them there and all the while finding she liked it "rael weel"; which we all do when we see the only way of getting round a thing is to tackle it square broadside Deweyize it, like. This making both ends meet is a mighty close study, and, for that reason, domestic economy is entitled to be called an accurate science. In proof whereof, take more out of the larder than you put in, and it is no mathematical trick at all to figure how long or how short the larder will remain unmortgaged. Or, to drop into lecture-hall drone, take hold of this science in the concrete and treat it as a mere approximate problem, and it will speedily loom up in lurid light as an accurate affair, something that you can't handle as a weather signal, trusting to luck, wind and gullibility. Mother Doyle had come abreast of it after her husband's death, when Mat was a youngster and Betty in arms. Widowhood, two helpless children, and a mortgaged farm on account of her husband's having uncorked too many jugs, were dark-visaged couriers of hard times, especially for a woman who had been reared in plenty. But hard times received a warm welcome. Mother Doyle tucked up her sleeves and went at them. She sold everything that was more ornamental than useful in the house; she managed with fewer hands ; lastly, she disposed of the small library, 28 MATTHEW DOYLE. keeping only twelve or fifteen of the best books for Mat, in childhood, showed his unfortunate father's predilection for reading. In short, she was determined to make those trouble'some ends meet, and make them meet she did. Hard times found no whining victim at her house, so they ambled on down to Uncle Alec McNeil's corner and were given a comfortable welcome among the whittling fraternity, who would be at a loss for something to do without hard times. On this, our early acquintance with the Doyles, the farm was free, they had two tenant families, Mat was a prize for work and steadiness, while Betty, grown to womanhood, was a gem for cellar and ground floor and garret. And the simple secret of it all was, Mother Doyle's faculty to make a few dollars and an iron will work in double harness. It was beautiful to see how they worked, bringing the Doyle affairs gradually around from bankruptcy to com- petency plain and unfrilled competency, to be sure, but independent competency; and that word marks the only period where breath is worth the breathing. Just along here, as we have seen, comes Dud Trenome, and with his school-marm news sets Mother Doyle a-pondering. " Betty," she began, after the table was set for the next morning and they were started on a piece of quilting : "Betty, what did Dud say that new teacher's name was?" " Hennon, wasn't it, ma or something that way?" "I believe it was. I was pouring the coffee when he mentioned it, but seems to me 'twas Hennon. I guess she'll come down to see about board soon as they notify her." " Yes'm, I reckon so don't reckon Dud'll meet her at the depot, do you, ma? Poor Dud, he said that finished him with school directin'." NECKTIES AND PRINCIPLE. 29 " Well, of course, we all would have liked to seen one of Pike's girls get it, but they wouldn't bid low enough, and, you know, Betty, counties and states have to economize just as well as other folks." " Yes'm." "And twenty-five dollars will board the new teacher, and more besides." " Why, ma, she can't get board for less than fifteen, and there's her washing, another dollar, at the very lowest, and I reckon she'd want to go into town once a month, any- how, so there's another dollar for her ticket, both ways, and that only leaves her eight dollars." " That's all true enough, Betty, if she has to pay fifteen for board. " Land sakes, ma, you know there's only one place to go since Mrs. Dodd died, and that's Mrs. McNeil's, and she always charges that." " Mrs. McNeil's ain't the only place, Betty ; I don't care what it lias been, but it ain't now. I'll board her for twelve and a half." " You !" This was a surprise to Betty. Mother Doyle calculated it would be, and she had decided to out with it abruptly, so that Betty could regain her balance, and then discuss the why and why not of the thing before Mat returned. The shock, however, seemed to have jarred Betty's small debative bump completely out of place. She sewed in silence, at a great rate for three or four minutes, and then looked up laughingly and said: " Dud's getting to be a stranger as it is, ma, and if we board ' that bunch of feathers/ as he called her, we'd never see hair nor hide of him any more." " Tut," replied Mother Doyle, " I know Dud of old. If 3O MATTHEW DOYLE. she's as fine-feathered as the boys told him, he'll be sparkin* her 'fore the next moon." Betty sewed on for another short stretch, and presently ventured : " I reckon Mrs. McNeil has already got her." " I'll find that out to-morow, and if she hasn't, what do you think about us boardin' her?" Mother Doyle was anxious to come to the merits of the case, for Betty was the one she wanted to gain over. " It would just be more work on you, ma." " Gracious, Betty, you and Mat let me do little enough, anyhow, except boss around." Betty made no reply to this, and Mother Doyle returned to the charge with the main point : " You know, Betsy (she always called her Betsy at the persuasive stage), we agreed not to touch Maf s pigs, and that will pinch the smoke-house. If the cholera hadn't taken the sow and her litter, 'twould have been all right ; but now it's those Poland Chinas or else we'll have to buy. If we get the school- marm at twelve and a half, cheap as that is, it'll buy our winter meat, save Mat's pigs, and not cramp us anywhere else about the place. You know Mat dotes on those pigs." If Betty had entertained any misgivings as to the inno- vation of taking a boarder, she discarded them. She would have given up her best frock cheerfully for Mat's sake, and, that aside, wasn't she showing right along the devotion she bore him? I think so, for she held off with Andy Dodd because Mat showed in a quiet way no blustering nor storming, mind you riot even a word of objection, but just by grim silence, that he didn't like Andy as a prospective brother-in-law, or, rather, as any but a sober brother-in- law. So Betty grounded her needle and came over to the new idea with a most encouraging vim to Mother Doyle. NECKTIES AND PRINCIPLE. 31 "But, ma," she said, suddenly, while they were going over the details ; " you mustn't go to workin' yourself down if we get her." "Who, me? Why, child, before I was half as stout as I am now, I run this farm with you teething and Mat to patch for, and I'd rather patch for three men than a scamp the size Mat was then." " I hope Mrs. McNeil hasn't got her," said Betty, recur- ring to that possibility. " We'll find that out to-morrow, but I don't guess she has this soon. I doubt if she's heard of it." " I'll be bound she knew it before they voted that old woman is as oaa ior new^ as uncle Alec McNeil is for stealing." " Oh, oh ! stealing's a hard word, didn't you know it ?" remonstrated Betty's mother. " Yes'm but what else are you goin' to call it, charging way yonder on everything, and such as it is, too." "Well, Betty, Uncle Alec McNeil has to live, you know, and if people don't like his prices they can trade somewhere's else." "But those poor niggers who mortgage to him; they can't mortgage in town, and his is the only store out here where they can get supplied regular, and everybody knows how he grinds them. I call it worse than stealing." Mother Doyle heaved a little sigh. She had thought of those things often, and in pretty much the same light as Betty, but she reproved her gently with: "Judge not, Betsy; judge not. Uncle Alec McNeil loves a dollar, it's true, but so do the folks who trade with him. I guess it's dog eat dog most of the time at his place." Betty gave a sniff, signifying great contempt for Uncle 31 MATTHEW DOYLE. Alec McNeil and all his tribe, and, glancing at the clock, remarked : "Mat's started home, I reckon. I'll fix him a bite. Say, ma, shall we tell him about the teacher to-night?" " I guess we'd better. I don't want Mat to think we are keeping secrets from him only we needn't tell him it's on account of the pigs." " I think he ought to like the plan. The teacher's sure to be one of the reading kind, and that would tickle Mat." " It might, if she was a man ; but I'm afraid Mat will crawl into his shell like he always does when women are about." " I'll make him crawl out if she boards with us. Good- ness, ma ! he's the only one of us who could keep her much interested, with his books and arguings; and if Mat's ever going to crawl out of his shell after women he'd better begin 'fore he's toothless. I declare, I hope the teacher will be the means of showing him that women folks ain't varmints." The sound of Mat's horse going through the lane broke on their hearing, and Mother Doyle told Betty to throw the back door open so that Mat could see the light, mean- while taking stitches vigorously, as though gathering force for some sort of an encounter. "Well, are you back?" they both asked, as Mat came in and threw his hat on a chair. " Yeh ; Dud tried to persuade me to stay over night, but I knew you'd think the hobgoblins had run off with me." "Did Dud get over Jris upset?" queried Betty, eyeing Mother Doyle. "What? Oh! You mean about the teacher? No; he ain't reconciled to her yet ; -but he will be when he sees it's no use holding off." NECKTIES AND PRINCIPLE. 33 "That's what I told Betty," joined in Mother Doyle. " S'l, Betty, mark my word, Dud'll be courtin' her if she's a right smart-looking girl." " Huh ! I don't know whether he'll get that far along. He says he ain't going about the school house. Says she can teach Hindoo up there for his part." " Well," spoke Mother Doyle, dropping her sewing and facing around. "He can run up on her at other places for instance, if she boards here." " Here !" Mat, for the moment, was as bereft of speech as Betty had been; then he sat down and made a silent onslaught on some cold chicken. " Yes," said Mother Doyle, following up surprise num- ber two. " Betty and I were talldn' it over, and I believe all three of us will like it if she boards with us. Of course, we don't know anything about her, but if we ever do, we'll have to find it out ourselves. You both know I never was much on what people say of each other. I've seen folks with shining reputations who were very lame creatures at bottom. If she boards with us, and we don't like her, we can mighty soon tell her so, and if she don't like us, there won't be any offense in her going elsewhere. Betty and I would both enjoy her company; we ain't so awful bad to get along with, and I don't guess she'll be, and bein' a teacher, Mat, and no doubt up on books, you and she ought to do splendidly." " Huh, I 'spect I'd be too countrified for her ; you know she's a city girl, mother." " Tut, town folks may get the news a little quicker'n you, but you ain't behind them on learnin'." Mat ate on in silence. As I have hinted, he wasn't a 34 MATTHEW DOYLE. < great hand at arguing with the women. When he agreed with them he simply said "Huh, that's so/' or something of the kind. When he disagreed, he shut his mouth, or changed the subject; not because he thought a woman's opinion wasn't worth discussion; he venerated any stand they took on any question, and if he couldn't side with them he would explain afterwards, that, though a woman mightn't be able to bring out her proposition in logical sequence, yet she had such a keen sense of guessing, that all you had to do would be to wait and time would prove her right. Then he would point to instances where Mother Doyle had jumped clean across majors and minors to con- clusions, and when the thing had reached its terminus, worked itself straight, behold her theory was a fact. " Just let a woman's because alone and it'll do the argu- ing," was Mat's quaint but sterling reason for holding his peace. When Mother Doyle had presented her case, so to speak, Mat was employed on the chicken, and, not being able to close his mouth for any length of time, and giving no Indian-like grunt of assent, both Betty and her ma were, for some minutes, in suspense. At last Mat tilted his chair back and contentedly drew the napkin across his lips. Betty removed the things to the kitchen, which was sep- arated from the dining room by a width of porch. This was Mother Doyle's chance, and while you and I know she used the following words diplomatically, still, for my part, I am glad there are brothers and sisters whose love for one another is susceptible to this sort of strategy. Would you mind their increasing as manifold as Abraham's progeny? Even so, there would be no fear of them making the earth bulge out uncomfortably. Mother Doyle said, keeping an eye and an ear both toward NECKTIES AND PRINCIPLE. 35 the kitchen : " I know Betty would like to have the teacher board with us; it wouldn't be nigh so lonely for her." Mat's eyes kindled with a kindly light, but he picked his teeth and remained mute. The thought of a strange female in the house caused him to draw in faster than a terrapin. He was, on occasions, shy enough with his own, folks, especially when Betty began to tease him, and now this brand new idea for the Doyles of taking a boarder a lady boarder a young lady boarder a school teacher fresh from the city, befeathered and beribboned, if the boys were to be believed it obfuscated him. All the words in all the dictionaries rose up before him and reeled and staggered in such a drunken dance that he could not put any two or more of them together, so he worked away with his toothpick and thought about cyclone pits, and wells, and other holes in the ground in which he could hide. " Of course, we don't know whether she'd board here ; she may have already engaged board at McNeil's," remarked Mother Doyle. That was some hope, indeed, as he saw its likelihood, quite cheering. He hated to have Betty disappointed, and wouldn't have brooked the thought on any other question; he mentally vowed he would sell his pigs and buy her a beautiful dress for the loss of the teacher, but, poor Mat, he could not help hoping that the school marm had engaged her domicile. One thing unquestioned if the McNeils wanted her, he knew it would take a mighty early bird to precede them one of those birds that don't go to bed of nights. But Mother Doyle jarred his hopes completely awry by adding: "I'll know to-morrow morning whether the McNeils have her, and if they haven't, I'll write her. In fact, I'll just write to-night, and see Mrs. McNeil 36 MATTHEW DOYLE. soon, and if the teacher ain't promised them, I'll be in time to send the letter off on the morning train. Mat, get out the paper and things and I'll just write or you do it for me, you're such a better hand than me at writing." It had passed the discussive stage now; had arrived at the point of "do," and Mat arose and brought out the writing tools. He would have had little or nothing to say at most, but since it had gone beyond the need of saying anything, he obeyed cheerfully, as he had always done from babyhood. As he pushed the tablecloth partly aside and drew a chair he felt as though he was about to write his execution. "I'm ready, mother." "Well, lessee now put her name down and then I'll have it begun." " Here it is : Miss Laura Hennon I guess she spells it that way." " 111 get her address from Hicks. She made her bid through him, so I s'pose he knows it, and then she'll get it, whether it's spelt right or not. How'd you know her first name. Mat?" " She left some cards with her name on 'em, and Hicks give Dud one." "All right. You've got her name down, now, what else?" Mat smiled as he thought, " if mother wants me to make it up I'd say, 'Miss Laura Hennon, please don't board at our house, yours truly,' " but he said aloud. "Anything '11 do,~mother; just say if she hasn't decided to board anywhere else, you would be glad to have her, and tell her the price." " That's it ; put it down that way, and when you come to the price say twelve dollars and a half." NECKTIES AND PRINCIPLE. 37 "For the whole thing?" "Yes, but that don't include washing." Mat pegged away for a few minutes and then read: " ' Miss Laura Hennon : If you have not made other arrangements, I would be pleased to offer you board and lodging here at twelve dollars and a half per month.' How's that?" " That'll do splendid." "I'll put a stamp inside and leave the envelope blank; you can address it in the morning and put a stamp on, if the McNeils haven't secured her." He put it interroga- tively, and Mother Doyle answered: " No, I wouldn't try to take her away from them, but I certainly hope she ain't gone there yet." Mat was too busy folding the letter to express any hope, though I doubt not he, too, had hopes on the subject. Betty had entered meanwhile, and stood watching her brother, and, from the twinkle of her eye, she enjoyed it immensely. " Say, Mat," she exclaimed, after the reading, " you ought to have told her there was a nice, handsome feller here and then she'd come." " Huh !" and Mat shuddered. " Well, ain't you handsome ?" she asked, coming aronnd the table and hugging him. "I don't know, Betsy; there ain't any looking-glass in my room, and you're always usin' yours." " Oh, you story !" she cried, giving him a pat. "Ain't it so, mother?' he asked, appealing to Mother Doyle. "Well, Matthew, I hear some mighty heavy footsteps in there sometimes." Betty clapped her hands as this point was scored, and 38 MATTHEW DOYLE. laughed and rumpled his hair dreadfully, but Mat pro- tested : "Oh, now, mother! only on Sundays, and then just to fix my necktie." "I'll bet he'll be wearin' 'em every day if the teacher comes," said Betty at the mention of ties. "Huh! No I won't; it'd take more'n a school teacher to make me break a principle." (And Mat was one of those men with whom principle is principle, whether it concerns neckties or salvation). / CHAPTER III. " M'NEIL " AND " DEAR/' Uncle Alec McNeil was down in his store after breakfast dusting off the show cases, rearranging things, and fussing around generally. There was nothing about Uncle Alec McNeil's exterior to excite wonder, or, for the matter of that, a second glance in a crowd. He was, perhaps, five foot eight, or nine, at most ; somewhat stout ; or, more precisely, flabby, there being beneath his eyelids, especially, a puffed-out, vein-swollen apperance that denoted divers trips to the bottle. His moustache was a common enough looking article of its kind a gray-brindle, unkempt daub, with stringy ends that flickered between drooping and dropping, as though having ceased the struggle to main- tain a cavalry twirl. His hair was similar to that of a great many other old gentlemen who have passed through one war and considerably more than one bar-room to sixty- odd years being very sparse around the outposts and quite absent on top. His eyes, like his hair, followed the color of his mous- tache, for the sake of harmony, I suppose; but while the two latter seemed to be running to bare ground, the former took to water. His eyelashes were not there to describe, and possibly that is why the orbs they once protected wept in unceasing driblets because they came not back. His pose, or carriage, or whatever you choose to call it, was a trifle more shuffling than erect, and his head was [39] 4O MATTHEW DOYLE. always tilted to the east by southeast. That may have been an adoption for facility, enabling him to look up at a tall customer or down at a small one with a simple shift of glance, or it may have been and I am inclined to think it was on account of sentiment. One of those fellows who is forever writing deep things on shallow subjects says that a hat worn on the side is a sign of sentiment: much more, then, would the wearing of the head that way be a proof, and, besides, Uncle Alec McNeil was intensely senti- mental, as he frequently averred, over the scales. His hands appeared to have foresworn water, whether to be in amity with his appetite, or because they thought his eyes dabbled enough in that limpid stock to do for the rest of him, I can't tell, but am open to conviction on the latter theory. His dress we will not stop there, for it isn't the clothes that make the man, and I never agreed with Disraeli that a slovenly dressed person is a coward, in spite of himself. I believe those fellows who write and talk about them instead of going and telling them so, are the cowards. Uncle Alec McNeil was no less of a Beau Brummel than you, perhaps, and no more of a slouch than I, albeit his shirt front was a standing advertisement for the brand of tobacco he chewed. In that feature, however, his mous- tache was the star display board, for you could always tell by it what he had last eaten, if you came upon him between meals, before he had time to apply another layer. The queerest thing connected with him was that every- body in Pike not only the village of Pike, but the county called him Uncle Aiec McNeil. It wasn't Uncle Alec, or Uncle McNeil ; it was invariably the whole thing, whether to strangers, friends or himself. Though he was like a multitude of old codgers in his personal appearance, and though his traits were scattered singly, and doubly, and " M'NEIL " AND " DEAR." 41 trebly throughout the family of Adam, yet no individual scion of that house possessed as many or was such a master of them as he ; consequently there was, and properly could be, only one Uncle Alec McNeil. For McNeils the world may never want ; for Alec's drought nor overflow can endanger them ; and for uncles, go down by the seaside and count the sands ; but combine the three into one Uncle Alec McNeil, and Pike, seat of the County of Pike, jurisdiction of Judge Lynch, was, during the tale I tell, the only spot beneath the stars whereat he resided, be now his habitation where it pleases. Another characteristic was his voice: I mean his con- versing voice ; for he was no song bird. In pitch it was, say, a scale higher than tenor ; in modulation, a gentle, sighing cadence, suggestive of a dying dove calling farewell to its mate. The forte, when he was in gin and "ginger," was much stronger than usual, as though a dozen or more doves were about to discard pin feathers for pinions. But strong or soft, Uncle Alec McNeil never talked, spoke, or con- versed he sighed, wheedled, or moaned, as though he existed not because life was worth a penny to him, but for the pecuniary advancement of his customers. And I expect that was really why he continued to live ; at least, he said so, in substance, hundreds of times, and whether or not he was a creditable witness, I will return to the channel of my story, and leave yon to judsre. " Good morning. Mrs. Doyle," he sighed, as the widow entered. "Howdy, Uncle Alec McNeil all well?" " Tollable, to-day ; though I was down with a chill yes- terday." "That's too bad; very hard one?" " Oh ! worst in the world, mum one of those shakers ; 42 MATTHEW DOYLE. I declare, they come on me um yes, mum, was there something I can do for you this morning?" " Thought I'd bring a little butter down ; what's butter worth now?" " A bit." " A bit P " Why, Lord, mum, this warm weather holds on so, butter just melts on my hands dead loss ; ah, hey, dead loss ; yes, mum; but then I take it for accommodation to my cus- tomers. There's no call here for it at all, and I can't get well, the market in town is just overrun how much have you?" " I brought four pounds, but I'll take it back ; a bit's so little " Uncle Alec McNeil looked furtively toward the door and then said, in a breath: " Well, mum, I'll make it fifteen ; but only to you ; lemme tell you what's a fact : I've got butter back there that won't bring a dime to the pound; why, I just tell you; the market in town is, is yes, mum ; now what did you want ?" He removed the butter to his shelf and Mother Doyle looked at a slip of paper and said: "Some sugar how do you sell it?" "Six and a half." " My ! Is it like the last I got from you !" " No, mum, this is a much finer grade cost me five cents at New Orleans; they make it down there from the finest yes, mum; how much?" " Let me see some of it, first." " Certainly ; just come on back here it is." He dived down in a barrel and brought up a scoopful, which Mother Doyle inspected. "This sugar's got trash in it like the other." " M'NEIL " AND " DEAR." 43 "' Why, mum, yon see I've purty nigh run out o' this, and when it gets down to the bottom, continually knockin' ag'inst the barrel and all that, you see, a little of the lint off the wood and dust, too, flyin' around, gets in : now that other sugar was trashy all the way through cheaper grade, you know but this sugar's fine sugar, yes, mum; there's just about ten pounds left, and you can have it all at six cents; the last of the barrel, and I won't hurt nobody but myself knockin' off the half-cent; cost me five and three- quarters laid down, yes, mum; you just take it at six an' " " No ; I only want two bits' worth." He brought a paper sack, and adjusting a pair of scales nearby, weighed out the amount, Mother Doyle keeping at his elbow meanwhile. When he had placed the package in her basket, she finished trading out the price of the butter, and asked if Mrs. McNeil was home ; the house stood some thirty yards from the store. " Yes, mum ; just come back through here and go around the yard; I expect you'll find her and Winnie in the kitchen; leave your things here and I'll put them behind the counter." Mother Doyle hesitated slightly, and then left the basket and went through the back door, mur- muring as she crossed the yard : " He trades close, but I don't believe he steals." Uncle Alec McNeil passed slant- ingly by the open door and saw her enter the house. Then he brought the scoop from the sugar barrel and returned behind the counter, and before Mother Doyle had said much more than "Howdy" to his wife and daughter, there were several ounces of sugar missing from her basket, which she would, in time, charge to the mice for she was a first-rate guesser at about how long two bits' of sugar ought to last. Uncle Alec McNeil next turned his attention to the 44 MATTHEW DOYLE. recently bought butter, and, taking a butcher knife, which he wiped on his sleeve, he cut from the bottom of each pound a slice of a dime's thickness, and laid them away behind the counter. His maneuvres were amazingly quick for an old fellow, showing the despatch that is only acquired by practise, and I have this to say: he was decidedly too near the time when the great invoice would be taken of his comings and shortcomings to be up to any such tricks. Meantime, Mother Doyle was chatting with the remaining members of the McNeil household and was slowly working the conversation around to school talk. With Winnie to deal, it would have been an easy enough matter, for Winnie was yet a school girl, and Mother Doyle could have put some first century (B. C.) question to her as to how she relished returning to her desk; but with Mrs. McNeil the task was not only slow, but herculean. On a simple salu- tation of "Howdy," Mrs. McNeil could talk for hours ; not quarters, nor half-hours, but full, sixty-minute hours. She could work on it and enlarge it, as though she really thought people used that form of greeting to find out her health status, and as she always had, or expected to have, every disease "except housemaid's knee" as Jerome says I could have used days with more exactitude than hours. Mrs. McNeil was a large woman, with a lung capacity for three dozen drummers, and when she opened up on a subject her listeners listened. Sleep was impossible for the noise she felt bound to employ, and, besides, one could always keep awake with the expectation of amusement, for what- ever her theme, as she entered full upon it, she waxed wroth, though it would have led ordinary minds into realms of peace and quiet. Nor did the subject necessarily need be of moment. She could put anything, or merely nothnig, between her teeth and draw talk untold therefrom, and, "M'NEIL" AND "DEAR." 45 hence, I employed the terms "ordinary minds" just now because it requires attributes bordering on the super- natural to adduce something from nothing. " Yes," began Mrs. McNeil, in reply to Mother Doyle's observation on the dry spell : " I never saw the like, and so many people taken down on account of it. McNeil keeps worried to death about me, and tells me not to overheat myself ; but shucks ! there's work got to be done, and that you well know, Mrs. Doyle, and what else can us house- keepers do but drudge, and drudge, and drudge. McNeil wants me to hire help, but one's work ain't half done unless you see to it yourself ; and if I have to stand around over- seein' a passel of lazy servants, why, sakes alive ! I might just as well be a-workin'. McNeil and I almost quarrel about it; he's so anxious about my health you know I never have been what you might call well since I had the grip and McNeil would just spend his last dollar hirin* servants to keep me idle, but shucks ! I believe idleness breeds sickness, anyhow, and then I don't want no niggers about me in the kitchen, nohow; to be forever watchin' em's worse than hard work. I know 'em; oh! I tell you, Mrs. Doyle, I know 'em. McNeil's so trustin' he believes everybody's honest 'cause he is ; but I tell you, when we see things we see things, and pa owned forty of 'em before the war, and I reckon I ought to know 'em. No sirree ; as I told McNeil, ses I, McNeil, ses I, just leave me alone; I'll 'tend to the house, and the store, too, when you're in town; and though I know I can't hold out forever at it, I'm a-goin' to keep on; they just can't down me, and the hotter it gets the harder I'll work and then when Winnie starts in agin to school I'll have to take up her little odds and ends of jobs Winnie, have you made up the beds and swept out ?" 46 MATTHEW DOYLE. " Yes'm." " Well, put some more wood in the stove, and wash the dishes, and pick some greens yes'm, as I was a-sayin', Mrs. Doyle, I made up my mind Winnie sha'n't lose a day's schoolin' on my account; she'll have the best education money can buy there's my own case: see what education done for me: before McNeil married me I was dependent on nobody but our dear Lord, and sometimes I think 'twould a-been better and more nobler, and more Christian- like if I'd a-kept on teaching school and learning the young ones how to get along, but, then, Mrs. Doyle, 'love's stronger than duty', as the poet says, and now we've got our own daughter to see to, and if I'd leave it to McNeil, he's just that liberal he'd a-sent her off to college long ago, but, ses I, McNeil, ses I, let her go through her home school first ; let her get her rudiments, and then we'll send her on up higher though, as to that, Mrs. Doyle, Winnie ain't very far behind the Professor, and as for being able to teach the little class, why from what I hear, they've took the pains to dig around in town and get some girl who ain't a bit bigger'n Winnie, and I doubt if she's much older, and "" " I heard the directors got a new teacher," broke in Mother Doyle by sheer force. She knew if Mrs. McNeil held the floor much longer the morning train would be gone. She continued, " Have you seen her ?" " She took dinner here the day she put in her bid ; she was such a frail-lookin' trick, I never once thought they'd pick her, so I had kttle to say, though " " I guess she'll be down to see about her board the school opens soon, don't it, Winnie?" " Yes'm, on the seventh." "And I don't know where she'll board, either, Mrs. "M'NEIL" AND "DEAR." 47 Doyle. If she was a man she could board with the saw-mill folks ; there was old Mrs. Dodd, who used to take boarders now and then, but she's gone, and " " Well, you have the name for keepin' the best boardin'- house here, Mrs. McNeil." " Me ? Oh, law, Mrs. Doyle ! I really am ashamed of the table I set to my own family ; it takes people who are used to boardin' to run anything like a boardin' house, and, you know, we've had very little experience in it; we don't have to take 'em in, and, consequently, when we let somebody beg us into boardin' 'em, I'm on pins and needles for fear we ain't makin' it home-like enough. McNeil tells me, ses he, 'Dear, I wouldn't take a single boarder; you don't have to, and you ain't used to it, and your health won't stand it I'll just give you for pin money what you'd get from boardin' three or four, and be done with it.' Well, that's McNeil's way- hand to his pocket, ready to give and say no more about it; but it ain't mine, and besides, it's the company I want. If I let anybody board with me they must be able to be some company, and, law me ! that little speck they've done engaged to teach here didn't look to me like she'd be company for a mute not that she didn't talk, for she chattered away all through her meal, but, land sakes! I want people to talk some sense around me and not go glib, glib about nothing he ! he ! I don't know where she'll board; but, of course, I don't want to say a solitary word against her, Mrs. Doyle ; that might keep others from boardin' her. I ain't no dog in the manger, and if I can't gay something good about anybody I don't say a word for I'm a sinner like the rest, and as I tell our dear Lord, if he only had me to look after, he'd have as much on his hands as he could 'tend to not goin' a-ready; sakes, woman, you run in and out like a mouse." 48 MATTHEW DOYLE. " I don't want to keep you from your work, and I know I'm keepin' myself from mine. Come when you get a resting chance, and you, too, Winnie; you know where to find OUT latch-string." Mrs. McNeil accompanied Mother Doyle to the store, talking every step of the way, and saw her visitor cour- teously out, and the last Mother Doyle heard was her tongue going like a piston-rod until the closing of the front door shut off her voice. Mrs. McNeil it was who closed the front door, though it was hot enough to have left it open, and even removed the roof and weather hoarding. She returned to the rear of the store, where Uncle Alec McNeil was leaning somewhat dejectedly against the end of the counter. " You'd better go up and go to bed, McNeil," she said, in a more masculine tone than she used to customers. " I vow, / might as well go to town to buy, so long as you're determined to sell goods in this place, for it looks like you can't go near there without getting drunk and comin' home and droopin' about like a sick cat." "Ah, hey, well, dear, I'm as anxious to leave here as you " " Shucks ! So you say, but if you really meant it, you're too good a liar not to be able to sell out to some greeny." " Heh !" grunted her husband, with a mild chuckle a very mild chuckle. " I wish you would mention somebody about " " I didn't mean l^re, McNeil you know these paupers couldn't buy a settin' of snake eggs. I meant in town; if you didn't put in your spare time there a-drinkin', you might kech a fish." "Ah, hey!" sighed Uncle Alec McNeil, and then he went back of the counter and brought forth the slices of " M'NEIL " AND " DEAR." 49 butter. Handing them over to his wife as a peace offering he said: " I mailed that letter, dear." " Whose butter is this ?" she asked, ignoring the remark. " Some of the Doyleses," he answered, meekly. " That old Doyle busybody brought it down here to make us believe she came to trade did she spend any money?" " No, dear." " I thought not ; she came swishing in there to the kitchen to pump me about the new teacher; did she say anything to you?" "No, dear just said she wanted to see you." " Well, that's what she came for, and she's welcome to all the news she got out of me." " She's only curious, I reckon, dear." " Curious the de'il she's on suffrance, like all the balance around here, and a boarder'd be a God-send. You say you mailed the letter." "Yes it's all right." " If it's delivered soon as it gets there, she'll get it this morning, but old man Dodd's so slow, it's a wonder if he gets it stamped to-day." " Heh !" laughed Uncle Alec McNeil. He made a policy of always laughing at " dear's " humor. "I guess we'll get a new postmaster, dear, when old man Dodd's money comes." " Shucks ! He ain't still harpin' on that money ?" "Well, they say that Andy says, as soon as his pa gets it, he's goin' to hand it over to him, and he's goin' in business and support " " In business, ha ! That drunken sot'll fall in Hick's furnace and kill himself sooner or later. His pa hand it 50 MATTHEW DOYLE. over to him ! Shucks ! Precious little money his pa'll ever get to hand over to him/' " I don't know, dear " " I know you don't ; I know you don't. You don't know how cows gets calves, McNeil. The idea of your putt in' any stock in that jack-o'-lantern chase of old man Dodd's. If he fought in the Mexican War, why didn't he save his papers ? I have no douht he was in it, for he's old enough to a-ben in the Eevolution ; but Uncle Sam ain't a-goin' to take a rebel's say-so that he was in the Mexican War; if he'd been a Yankee he would'nt a-needed any papers to prove nothing, but them kind of pensions ain't given to folks down here and if you put any faith in old man Dodd's talk about it, you're a bigger fool than I thought." " Mamma !" called Winnie, " come in here and help me cut this meat." Her mother replied in a loud, irritated voice: " In a minute," and then remarked to her husband that it seemed like that child couldn't get along two minutes without her, and that if she was as shiftless with her books as she was at cooking, they might as well take her away from school. " The school won't do her much good, nohow, dear," put in Uncle Alec McNeil. " I can barely write my name, and I couldn't read it if I was a-goin' to be hung; but I ain't done so poorly especially in my courtin'." " Shucks, McNeil ! don't be simple,' rejoined " dear " ; but he could see the Barney had dulled the edge of her peevishness for the time being, and on the strength of it he filled his pipe and shuffled out to the porch. Arriving at the door, he opened it and called back: " I hear her now, whis'ling for the crossing." Mrs. McNeil hastened forward, and together they listened "M'NEIL" AND "DEAR." 51 to the oncoming train. The rumbling grew louder and louder, and presently the hoarse shriek of the whistle sounded, and as it died away, Mother Doyle's portly form came hurrying from the direction of Hick's mill toward the depot. " Ain't she gone home, yet ?" declared Mrs. McNeil. " She can't be goin' to town in her mother hubbard," " She's got a letter or something in her hand," spoke Uncle Alec McNeil, shading his eyes and screwing up his face. " Hum, a letter ! Um, hum ! Just as I told you, McNeil ; she thought she was a-foolin' somebody, eh? See, she's handin' it in on the mail car. Oh! I told you so she wasn't down her for a howdy/' CHAPTER IV. ANDY DODD. Mother Doyle had taken an early start with her important letter, knowing that Mrs. McNeil's tongue was a long lane to traverse, and after she had gone, Betty washed the breakfast things and then started in to give the kitchen a general cleaning. Every Saturday she set aside the fore- noon for that purpose, giving the stove a polish, scrubbing the floor, and emptying the safe of leavings, and 1*11 venture to say, there wasn't a housewife about the country who kept a more parlor-like kitchen than did Betty; or, at any rate, kept it more cheerfully. There are whole regiments of tidy housekeepers. I've seen battalions of them myself, but, honestly, there are very few in my circle but who go at it in a most uncomfortable way. They grab a skillet, souse it in the water, dig at it with fierce energy, as though the skillet was persona non grata in that kitchen ; then, having thumped it clean, they hurry to the stove, throw it against the fender to dry, pretty much as if they were pitching it into torment, and then, after spitting out a sharp " Ha !" meaning " one more burden off my hands." they charge back^to the dishpan and dive in with a fury that makes me feel for the cups and plates and things doomed to their grasp. Betty dispensed with all that nonsense, and in place of a dig and a jab, and a grunt and a fling, she hummed all sorts of little old timey tunes, stopping long enough, now [52] ANDY DODD. 53 and then, to throw out some scraps and watch the chickens scramble. It was during one of those intermissions that she spied Andy Dodd coming around the walk which skirted the side of the house and ended at the back gate the same walk that Mat took every evening when he went to feed the squealers. Her eyes lit up with pleasure as she stepped out on the kitchen porch to greet him; and, for my part, I don't see where her eyes could be blamed. Andy Dodd was, take him out and out, a handsome boy. Tall yes; I expect he measured close on to six feet. Slender ; in fact, you might almost say raw-boned, if it hadn't been for the graceful hang of his clothes. His cheek bones stood out just a mite too far; but that was offset by his dark brown eyes- bold, bad eyes, some dear old ladies might say; but, all the same, the kind of eyes that used to play havoc with those dear old ladies long ago. His hair was dark, not what you would call coal black, but close to it, and his complexion was decidedly tanned. You could see that it was a perfectly healthy and normal color, too, for he wore his collar open and his sleeves rolled up. That was either a weakness or habit with Andy possibly both. He knew he looked swagger with his shirt thrown open at the neck, and sleeves tucked up to his elbows, and held there by a pair of red silk supporters; furthermore, he knew the Pike girls thought he looked so picturesque. On the other hand, he ran the engine at Setton Hicks' sawmill fired, as the boys termed it and that sort of work necessitated a decollete attire. So it may have been either or both; when you come to know him better you may decide that point. He was a great tobacco chewer, though it is scarcely 54 MATTHEW DOYLE. necessary to put the word tobacco in there, as everybody around Pike chewed, except Mat Doyle and Setton Hicks barring the women folks, of course, who took it out in snuff. However, you mustn't become set against Andy for chewing. I'll admit it's a filthy vice, but our young friend Dodd didn't chew like Tom, Dick and Harry; nor, for the matter of that, like his pa. Old Man Dodd had been chewing as far back as the Mexican War, and should have been a very pattern for rising chewers, but the fact was, the old fellow had never learnt to spit beyond his chin. I've seen him many a time walk clear the length of his store he kept a bob-tailed store conjointly with the Post Office I've seen him come from behind the counter and go all the way out on the porch to spit, and when he came back there was most of it on his beard. Andy wasn't that kind of a chewer; not that his being beardless was any advantage to begin with, but it just seemed like he could chew cleaner than anybody in the country. Unless you were to see him cut off a piece and place it in his mouth, you couldn't swear before a court whether or not he was chewing. It was the same way with everything else he did easy and insinuating like, even to walking. Upon the occasion referred to he came on around the walk, up the kitchen steps, and took Betty's hands in his and it was all done as graceful as though he had been practising it regularly, which, to be sure, he hadn't. "Howdy, hun; how are you to-day?" he asked, while Betty stooped down and kissed him, which would have been scandalous for anybody but you and me to have seen old lady McNeil, for instance! As it was, "dear" was forever having them at the altar, and, I suppose, could she ANDY DODD. 55 have seen that kiss, baby carriages are the very least she would have prophesied. "Fine as can be/' answered Betty. "Mill ain't running to-day?" "Nope, broke the belting agin yesterday and Hicks had to go to town for a new one this morning. The old skunk did without one 'till the other busted from end to end; he won't spend a nickel unless there's eight cents comin' in right after it. Thank Heaven! he'll have to spend some more money soon, or go to shovelin' sawdust in that worn-out furnace himself." call a "problem" ceases by the snuffing solution? An"Aedepus for an answer. But "Pedro," meanwhile ? Well, we'll continue, and not "progress" any more, as Dooley would opine, and please to bear in mind, as 7 opine, that I am not tapping my imaginative tank to present "Pedro" on this canvas not by a jugfull. If anything, I will be partial to "Pedro" " PEDRO." 105 in his degenerating developments, because, for the life of me, try as I will, (for present purposes), I can't forget the time his mammy and pappy held their tireless and supperless vigils for our mammies and pappies peace and eternal happiness to all of them. So "Pedro," then. Marster and young marster came back at last, no longer marster and young marster Appomattox had stricken the title from liberty's vocabulary. Yes, they came back afoot ; fine horses long since gone : Yes, they came back boots muddy, cracked and worn; "bar's ile" long since gone: Yes, they came back ragged: ragged, did I say? Pretty nigh it; dazzling gray clothes bespattered by the tearing tempests of war's elements; brass buttons, fine sashes, buckskin gauntlets long since gone : Yes, they came back to fields sown in blood and plowed by shell, and reaped with the rake of a lurid hell; to homes that now stood, sorrow to tell a toll from the roll of a fun'ral bell : Yes, they came back, weary as only the wrecked, dreary as only the defeated can be, and they pushed open the big gate, now rotting, and they walked up the wide drive, now weed-grown, and they came, footsore and heartsick, before the portals of the great house, now gaunt and there, surrounding missus and the little missuses, grouped about all they loved best on earth, were old Dinah, Aunt Hannah, Tilda, Uncle Lige, Gabe, Eef, Big John, Little John, and Mammy, and Pappy, and cotton-eyed "Pedro" peeping out from behid mammy's skirt. Take away ! Take away your Reubens', your Raphaels', your Rembrandts', your Millais', your Angelo's take them all away! Take away your rich gilt frames, with their costly carved oak leaves and flutings take them all away ! Carry me back to that picture of what was once marster and young marster, missus and the little missuses in loving embrace, 106 MATTHEW DOYLE. and the frame that encased it ! "The boast of heraldry and the pomp of power" no longer dazzled the uniforms and burnished the swords of marster and young marster; the glare of ballrooms and the glitter of chandeliers no longer wooed the velvet blush on missus' and the little missuses' cheeks; but in that frame beat hearts as true as any steel and stout as any oak; and, though now Mag- nanimity had said : "Let us have peace," and thereby that group were freed men, yet they were more they were friends ! But time and tide go on in seconds and minutes, as well as years and centuries, and marster cleared his throat and bid the lips that had stiffened at Shiloh, be firm. Black hands were thrust forward and grasped; howdy after howdy broke the sobs of missus and the little miss- uses, and, at last welled up the words: "God bless yoo, marster, we'll neber leab yoo." "Friends," he responded, thickly, raising his hand gently for attention; "friends, don't call me marster any longer. The war is over. You are free free to go as citizens. All I have is swept away ; not even the ground I stand upon is mine. The cabins you sleep in are no more mine than yours. I must go to work for my family, and, though we would keep each and every one of you with us if we could, we can't do it. We have nothing to give you: we have nothing for ourselves, and to keep you with us would invite starvation upon/us all. The world lies before you, as it does before us; we must go out into it alike. Eest assured, all of you, that though we must go our separate ways, and say good-by for to-day rest assured, my friends, that whenever I have a meal's victuals for my loved ones, you will not go hungry. We must all make " PEDRO. 107 good citizens you the same as I ; you bury your shackles, I my sword, and we take up the plow, each for himself." Thus they parted, both to look anew a problem in the face; both free and equal before the law; both poor; both at sea; both friends. A bad situation, true enough, and not so bad, true enough, and the last two words, both friends, were the saving clause. Both friends. Study it a moment. Both friends. Ponder it a moment. Both friends. Lay down this page a moment, Judge Lynch can adjourn court while you consider it. What would two sets of people on a perfectly friendly basis have done with such a problem if left to themselves? Solve it, or friendship is not the omnipotent exotic I take it to be. Solve it unconditionally. But it is idle to spec- ulate on what might have been done, and irrelevant to "Pedro," inasmuch as we have to deal with what was done, is done (but I trust not, shall ever be done, Amen!). The group dispersed. Marster's folks went to the city, marster to renew acquaintance with his profession, from which years of luxury had estranged him. Then there appeared in the horizon a speck. Like all other incipient storm-clouds, it was small no larger than a carpet-bag; and, in fact, as its proportions became defined, it was a carpet-bag. Like all other evil storm-clouds, it quickly gathered other carpet-bags, until the South was like unto a plague-stricken Egypt. A land but lately bayonet-ridden was now carpet-bag deluged, and the latter will be by far the worst calamity. Hicksism was a condition. The high- ways and byways, and all the other ways, were infested with gentry who, not being able to accumulate more than a carpet-bag full of chattels North, were obviously com- petent to do so South. Then, indeed, did the f reedman hear some truths. Then, 108 MATTHEW DOYLE. indeed, did political Hicksism show him what should be his true status, i. e., a recumbent attitude upon a hundred- dollar sofa in the bankrupt state's capitol. Then, indeed, were marster's folks held up to him as his worst and most implacable enemies. Then, indeed, was it demonstrated to him that Nature had accomplished for the Ethiopian by a partisan vote what she hasn't yet completed for the Caucasian by evolution. Then, indeed, did his new-found mentors whisper boss in his ear, ballot in his skull, and bullet in his heart. What happened? When power is the highest aim of the white man's game; when we fall every day, prone and prostrate before the gewgaws of garishness, is it inexplicable that "Pedro's" people wavered ? Is it contrary to mathematics that an addition of two and two will result in the sum of four? Well, "Pedro" is helping his little mite to produce the resultant sum helping for woe just as his supper used to help for weal; and Hicksism can thank itself and its teachings that hemp is being used, perforce, as a counter irritant. After the carpet-bags had permeated the erstwhile poor but placid problem, "Pedro" began to absorb the imported doctrine with sponge-like avidity. "Pedro" being by genus imitative, was correlatively absorbent. He scam- pered into the city not with any idea of working, for Hicksism had to j d him that, as a ward of the nation, he needn't work. Consequently, he neglected the faculties necessary to industry aad improved those essential to idle- ness. He was young then, and bright, too; quick to see and quicker to note. He saw that marster no longer went down into a well-filled wallet carpet-bags were fat instead. He swung to the latter. "Pedro" experienced " PEDRO." 109 some halcyon years thereabouts. Vice was unrolled and displayed before him in garbs, and shapes, and patterns that would turn a much paler lad, let alone one of "Pedro's" hue. Virtue was as undisplayable as marster's lean wallet ; vice as full of promise as the carpet-bags. He swung to the latter. Chopping weeds in the cotton was hot work in the sun ; rolling dice in the warehouse was lucrative sport in the shade. He swung to the latter. "Totin" wood to the kitchen was mighty poor fun by the side of seven-up behind a cotton bale. He swung to the latter. And so on down the list. At ten, as a "kid," "Pedro" knew the safest corners of all the warehouses. At fifteen, as a bootblack, he knew which bar-rooms did the biggest business. At twenty, as a procurer, he knew exactly where to locate the best-looking yellow girls. At twenty-five, as a roust- about, he knew every pilot on the river and every engineer on the road. At thirty, as a jailbird, he knew every chain- gang from St. Louis to New Orleans, and at thirty-five, as a vagabond, we find him in Pike, (his stand-by haunt during a blow-over), an adept in every black art, and a stranger to the rudimentary elements of human decency. Long years of vice have made him a villain: long years of rascality, a rogue: long years of dissipation, a drunk- ard : long years of white vice example, a menace to female virtue, and long and notorious proficiency in a game known as "Cinch," "Fifty-two," "Set-back," "High Five," but most commonly, "Pedro," has given him a soubriquet that carries with it a kaleidoscope of deviltry. Thus "Pedro." He has been sojourning in Pike some twelve months, having suddenly left St. Louis a year before, and he will sojourn in Pike until luck, love or IIO MATTHEW DOYLE. laxity lure him citywards. Meanwhile, Bill Ott, Andy Dodd and Company will acquire all of "Pedro's" latest points on pasteboards, and, perchance, acquire a moiety of the cash which caused that gentleman's abrupt abandon- ment of the Missouri metropolis . CHAPTER X. JUDGE LYNCH AS A THEORY. "Bra LYXCHIX' in Clay County," remarked Uncle Alec McNeil, glancing over his specs and holding his news- paper nearer the lamp. They were all sitting around on counters, kegs and cracker-boxes in Uncle Alec McNeil's one evening late in the fall. When I say they, Pantalooned Pike is, of course, meant, to wit, that male portion of Pike who have nothing to do but improve their conversational accomplishments. To these may be added the mill hands Setton Hicks' mill hands, and the mill hands from across the mountain, the evening being Saturday. Included, also, were Mat Doyle and Dud Trenome. Dud had come in for some small trading and had stopped by Mat's (stopped by, not in) had left his pony there, and the two had footed it down. Lastly, Deacon Hicks had just stepped in for a package of oatmeal,, when Uncle Alec McNeil made the above remark. So it may truthfully be said that Uncle Alec McNeil had a large and distinguished audience, and there was nothing in the wide world that tickled the old merchant more. While we are aware, from his own confidential statement to "Dear," that his educational abilities barely permitted. him to sign his name and read it, yet that was no bar whatever to his dispensing the news. All he needed were good sensational headlines, and he could Tin] 112 MATTHEW DOYLE. improvise the rest, and, inasmuch as his listeners during working hours and between trains, were Pantalooned Pike, it didn't matter much whether his improvisations were grammatically, orthographically, or historically correct or not; he would pore over his paper and give the items out in as fantastically worded a garb as a magazine poet would wish. Meanwhile, those of Pantalooned Pike who weren't filching sundry articles of commerce, lounged in a semi-somnolent state, and all was well. You are not to presume, however, that on such occa- sions Uncle Alec McNeil was the least bit unconscious of the filching. He noted every piece of tobacco or candy, every can of sardines, every nail that was taken, and also noted the taker, and you may be sure that in the end Uncle Alec McNeil wasn't the loser. A good many storekeepers prefer to raise a fuss over such things, and thereby lose trade, for it is a self-evident axiom, that if you catch a fellow red-handed and then hurt his feelings, he'll quit trading with you. Uncle Alec McNeil believed in catch- ing them red-handed, or in any other feasible fashion, but he respected their feelings, and went at their pocketbooks in future dealings ; or, if they didn't have any pocketbooks to go at, he went after others who did, and in a quiet way evened it up nicety. Frequently Mother Doyle had had to pay for a piece of "star" which one of the Ott's had surreptitiously slipped in his shirt bosom the day before; but so long as Mother Doyle was ignorant of it, she wasn't hurt. Uncle Alec McNeil got his pay for the "star" and he wasn't hurt; and the filching Ott got the "star" and he wasn't hurt; and I'm confident that however much moralists may differ from Uncle Alec McNeil on the ethics of the transaction^ JUDGE LYNCH AS A THEORY. 113 arithmeticians will be unanimous that the rule of three couldn't have worked it better. Uncle Alec McNeil was always immensely intent on his paper during these readings, both to give the filcher full swing and to impress those who were too lazy to filch, with his erudition. The evening in question was extraordin- arily propitious in both respects. The crowd was large, and Mat, Dud and Hicks were present Pike's trium- virate of scholars. "Yes, sir, big lynchin', in Clay my, my !" and that's as far as Uncle Alec McNeil ventured. He was entirely too politic to take a stand on anything susceptible of a divi- sion, which, of course, didn't include the absurdly, ridic- ulously low prices of his merchandise. His "my, my !" might have meant "my, my ! how terrible !" or, "my, my ! how glorious !" for all any one could tell. Thp look on his face, the inflection of his voice, were just as unenlight- ening as the monosyllables he uttered, so the crowd waited for particulars. "Big lynchin' in Clay my " "Uncle Alec McNeil, you said that before. Less hear the balance; must er been a h I of a big lynchin' to call it over three times." Everybody except Hicks and Mat roared at Wicked Bill's sally. Hicks scowled; Mat didn't. "Well, sir; well, sir, um lessee," mused Uncle Alec McNeil running his eye up and down the whole length of the paper, though, in fact, the article was scarcely a quarter-column. "Lessee : Big lynchin' I believe you said you'd heard that once before, Bill." Everybody roared again, and the filchin got in a little 114 MATTHEW DOYLE. side work, while Uncle Alec McXeil, though ostensibly doubled up with mirth, took copious mental notes thereon. "Yee, hee !" he panted, finally untying himself and wiping his specs ; "Well, we'll try it agin. 'Scuse me, Bill I I I didn't knc*v you were in here ; 'clare to goodness I jes happened to look up an' see you, an' I I I jes thought, Billy, you'd like to hear it hee, hey, ha, -ha, ha ! yee, ha, ha, ha !" and once more the roaring began, with Uncle Alec McXeil far in the van and apparently in a fair way to choke himself to death. "Whee, hey !" he panted, once more untwisting him- self and shaking the paper out, "hee-ay, now boys, less get at it ; an' listen right close, Billy, I don't want to have to read it over agin: 'Clay County, the scene of a bloody tradegy "emmense mob lynches a friend no, fiend um, hum. Smithton, November twentieth : A nigger named Mose Jones assaulted Mrs. John Delanny how do you call that, Mat, Delanny or De?a/?ey well, we'll jes let it go either way assaulted Mrs. Delanny last night, and imme- jiately fleed the the " "Coop," suggested Bill. "Yes, coop'll do. A mob soon gathered in hot pursuit and, um in hot pursuit, an' they caught Mose 'long t'rds nine o'clock, an' strung him up. Great excitement pree- vails, an' the sheriff is a-summonin' a a poss." All of which, though not quite the wording of the article, was the gist. "Sheriff gatherin* a what ?" Dud asked, mischievously. "Why, a crowd o' men," quickly answered Uncle Alec McXeil, who wasn't to be caught on posse. "What the h 1 does he want with 'em? They done caught the nigger," commented Wicked Bill. Bill and Andy must of necessity sad though it is be the same old story, the eagle mates with the buzzard, not to lift him up, out to be dragged down. Andy, to become what misguided youth deems a man, had selected the most dissolute crea- ture he could find for a model. I use the^word selected with due deliberation, notwithstanding it is tHe fashion among grieving mammas and pious, but powerfully provincial,, pastors to charge the full infamy of Andy's undoing- up to Wicked Bill. It were an insult to a youth of Andy'a nature, intellect, and ability to say that he had blindly tsuf- fered himself to be netted and an admission that Nature has no aristocracy. Andv, in his fledgling days, possessed more philosophic comprehension than was ever .dreamt of by an Ott, young or old. If your blue grass colt desires to repudiate the breeding of its gallant sire and noted dam, and take up with a scavenger's plug, it does so in spite of itself and not because of superior attractions, either in the plug or in the wretched career the plug leads. The identical principle is applicable to Andy, and hence I shall not waste any tears over his choice : suffice to say, he adopted Bill for his preceptor, and we all know that the corps of teachers in Experience's school is a high-salaried body, and much given to the applied system, t. e., the system used bv the monkey who let his feline scholar extract the chestnuts from the fire. "Oh, it's the best thing for us that could a-happened," Bill was saying in undertones to Andy. "I'm d d glad he's goin' to run ; Dud won't do a thing to him, d n his sanctimonious hide !" commented Andy. "I don't keer a- d n 'bout that ; what we want is to git I&2 MATTHEW DOYLE. Tobe mcde deputy, an' then we'll have things comin' our way." "Well, h 1, Dud'll make Tobe his deputy Mat's sure for the church vote, an' by G ! Dud'll need us or he's gone to h 1!" "He's got to have us 'n what we want to do is to see him right away/' "Well, Bill, don't you think if we hold up an' let on like we might all vote for Mat that there'd be somethin' in it, besides Tobe's appointment?" <; H 1, no! Dud knows us fellers too well; they ain't no.'bluffin' him there, an', 'sides, what th' h 1 do you want? Tobe's appointment means cash to us. By the way, you owe Tobe ten, don't you ?" "It's thirteen sixty, countin' last night's losin'." "Well, there's one gain a-ready; git Dud's promise o* the 'pointment an' I'll make Tobe square it off. Why, boy, if we don't do somethin' like that, fust thing we know, the Grand Jury'li be raisin' seventeen kinds o' hell ! Hicks 'n his gang 'd be tickled to death to git Mat." "Oh, to h 1 with Mat; he ain't deuce high himself he couldn't tell what we were doin' if he was to run up on us; he don't know one card from another; but it'd be just like him to get a deputy who'd nail us first dash out." "There's where 7/ow.mTsseo'rit, Andy ; if you'd got in with him, why you an' Betty could a-been tied up 'ginst now an' you'd a-been Mat's -deputy an' Jee-sus! what a hog- killin' time we would a-had !" "Oh, well, don't you fret about my gettin' Betty, all right enough even ii' I'm never deputy sheriff. Betty thinks that of a brother of hers is prepared stuff, but jes wait till she's Betty Dodd." MAGNANIMITY. 183 "Ha, ha, ha ! You'll show her how to roll box cars, hey ?" "That's no lie." "Well come on ; Mat'll bout ride out there 'n start back 'ginst we git to the house 'n we'll go by Fritz's anyway 'n take on some oats ; come along. Oh, Tobe !" "Hey?" "Me an' Andy's goin' somewhere." "A' right; we'll be here or down you know." "Umph, huh." "Don't forgit to bring us back three fingers in the washtub." "Ha ! Where's your money ?" Bill and Andy put off through the woods, stopping at Fritz's, a gentleman of Teutonic extraction, who dispensed a decoction of grape and alcoholic extraction, and then winding their way across country until Dud's fences appeared through the trees. After a short reconnoitre they saw that Mat hadn't yet gone, so they lay down in the underbrush not far from the road, and with a social jug of Fritz's vintage between them, waited. When at last Mat and Dud came out to the lot and Mat rode away, the interior of the jug had gradually become a yawning vacuum, and its pair of imbibers were in neither a partic- ularly temperate nor docile frame of mind, and heaped enough imprecations upon Mat for keeping them waiting to have run Bill a whole day and night. Bill and Andy had settled it for the latter to "see" Dud, or, that is, Bill had settled it and Andy had agreed to it. They gave Mat good time to get away and then looked for Dud to re-enter the house; but he flung his arms over the gate and leaned his head on them, and remained motionless so long that they thought he had gone to sleep, and began to switch their abuse from Mat to 1 84 MATTHEW DOYLE. him. But he raised up at length and Bill, whose squint was as telescopic as keen, exclaimed under his breath: "Good God ! The feller's sick !" Just then Dud turned and began pacing up and down the horse lot in a manner to cause the smothered remark from Andy: "That don't look much like a sick walk." Sick or not, the walker kept it up until Bill observed that "they'd a-brought two gallons an' some sow-belly if they'd a-known they wuz agoin' to have to camp." While the walk was seemingly no nearer conclusion than when first started, Dud suddenly wheeled to the left flank and entered his house. Bill arose and said : "Come, Andy, we're late now; less go down a piece an* then you start back up the road. I'll wait at the corner of the field." The willing cat followed his mentor, and some three or four hundred yards toward Pike they emerged into the road, and young Dodd turned his face back in the direction of the Trenome dwelling. He walked on, rolling a cigarette, and coming in sight of Dud's house, looked over in the field, then around the barn, and so on, as though Due 1 might be most anywhere about the place or might not be about the place at all as far as he knew. When he arrived at the gate he called: "Hello !" No reply. "Hello!" Still no answer. "The devil!" he thought, "wonder if he is gone," and then he shouted : "Whoo-ee! Anybody home?" "Come in, Andy," called Dud, leaning out of a front MAGNANIMITY. 1 8$ window, "didn't know anybody was out there; come in, you know the dogs." Andy advanced up the walk and noticed that it had been recently graveled and sideboarded. Dud met him at the gallery and, shaking hands, invited him in. On entering the sitting room he glanced towards a desk and observed writing materials displayed. Dud followed the glance and said: "I was busy doin' a little writin' don't reckon I'd a hardly heard it thunder." Andy sat down and Dud did likewise, and then, for the first time, it struck Andy that Dud didn't look exactly well, but he was full of his mission, and had little time to speculate en aught else. "Well, Dud," he began, "we're all upset in town." "That so?" "We never expected to hear of you and Mat Doyle runnin' 'ginst one another." "Yes?" asked Dud, though from the absent way in which he said it he might as well have used any other monosyllable. "The boys don't think Mat's right," Dodd pursued. "No?" "You started first." "Umph, huh." "An' as far as I'm concerned, I'd vote for you if you hadn't." "Much obliged." "And I believe Bill Ott an' all his friends could be made to do it anyways they ought to." "Yeh reckon so." "Specially if Tobe ever expects to get higher than constable." 1 86 MATTHEW DOYLE. ^That's right." "An' for the matter o' that, he would make a first-rate deputy." "Spec so." This was discouraging to Andy. Dud neither appeared to listen nor to care much about listening, and his short answers, while civil and friendly enough, were so many stumps in the way. Young Dodd smoked away viciously for a minute or so, and then came out with his proposi- tion. Fritz's wine (?) had put him in a hasty temper, and his temper at best was none too meek. "Dud, you stand 0. K. with our crowd." "Your crowd?" "Er Bill's crowd." "Oh!" That "Oh !" was a terrible jab, being tantamount to say- ing: "Andy, you know you don't belong in that crowd." But the "Oh'!" stopped there, and Dud felt really sur- prised in evincing that much interest in the matter. "And, Dud," Andy pursued, "you can get every one of our votes, sure but, of course, we'd like to see Tobe made deputy." Silence. "We don't know whether you've picked your deputy." Silence. "There ain't another deputy who could bring you the votes Tobe can." "I don't need him." "You don't need him! Why, h 1, Dud, Mat'll beat you." "No, Mat won't beat me." Fritz's wine commenced to boil at the idea of anybody getting an office in Pike independent of "the boys." MAGNANIMITY. 1 87 "Mat won't beat you? You're drunk!" "Ha ! Blamed if I don't feel like it." "Or crazy." "Guess you're right." "Oh, come now, Dud you were jes jokin'?" "Nope I don't need Tobe an' if he's sent you here to beg for him, tell him so." "Well, you're beat." "That's my business." "You're the doctor, Dud; what time is it?" "Four ten." "H 1, I'll be night gettin' in." "Stay all night here." "Thanks got a small game up to-night good-by. You'd better change your mind an' not drop the boys." "Andy, you'd better change your mind an' drop 'em you talk about your small games you're too big game for that crowd o' hounds 'n the sweetest girl in Pike your sweetheart, too it's a d n shame, that's what it is !" Andy half- opened his lips and looked as though Dud's unexpected waking up had angered him, but he merely said: "So long." When he came upon Bill he jerked his thumb backwards and said: "N. G." "What!" "No go." G d n him !" "Oh, he's beat." "Beat; yes, beat right now. Less go back an' see Mat 'fore night." "What you want to see him for?" 1 88 MATTHEW DOYLE. "Why, 'bout Tobe you're drunk a-ready?" "He'll never have Tobe." "Oh. I don't know; we'll try him a few anyhow." "D d if / see him ! That's straight." "Yes you will, Andy." "No.; I'll be " "No, no, you won't be nothin' of the kind; look a-here, boy, do you wan't to go up ?" "Nixey." "Well, if Tobe ain't deputy we'll all lose a mighty good chance, if we ain't sent up." By the time they came near the Doyleses, Bill had made good his prediction, and Andy proceeded the last two hun- dred yards alone, leaving his confederate to enter town through the woods. The sun was sinking low in the heavens when he halted at the gate and halloed for Mat. Betty came to the door and called him in, but he declined, saying he'd wait out front. Betty replied: "Mat hasn ; t got up to the house yet he's been at work in the lower field let me see if he's comin'; it's supper time," and she stepped to the end of the porch and looked down past the bam. "I'll go on around the lane, Bet, and meet him," Andy said, starting off, and he began to feel more than ever the tonic effects of Fitz's beverage. Betty remained on thp gallery watching him go up the lane, and observing, the" closer he got, that he avoided her look and appeared in, to her, a rather familiar condition. She ran through the house and out the back way and met him as he came opposite the side gate. "What do you want with Mat, Andy?" she asked. "Jes' a little business politics." MAGNANIMITY. 189 "Oh ! you better stay to supper ; Mat'll be up presently. You look like you been walkin'." "Have." "Well, come in an' wash up for supper; Mat'll be glad for you to stay." "Ain't got time, Bet 1 don't reckon Mat'll grieve much 'bout my not stayin'." "You wrong him, Andy he's your friend." "Yes, I reckon so! I'll take your word for it." "There, I hear him now." Andy turned hastily, and seeing Mat undoing the lot gate leading to the field, stepped away in that direction. Mat brought his horse in and closed the gate, and on fac- ing around beheld young Dodd approaching. "Howdy, Andy," he greeted, holding out his hand. "H'y, Mat," responded Andy, taking the hand and let- ting it fall before giving it a shake, and inquiring, "Can I help you?" "No, I'll have him out and fed in no time go ahead in the house I'll be there" "Thanks ain't got but a minute or so; wanted to see you ; been huntin' for you all day, but heard you were out to Dud's. The boys asked me to bring you word that they were all for you." "The boys?" "Yes Bill Ott an' his friends." "Why, I thought those boys were all 'ginst my plat- form." "Oh, as far as lynchin' goes, you know, Mat, there ain't any of us who are particular 'bout what route a nigger takes to glory." "Yes, I understood as much; and you all are no more particular now than ever?" MATTHEW DOYLE. "'Course not but that don't cut no " "Excuse me for interruptin' you, Andy, but it cuts a figure with me. Have you read my 'nouneement ?" "Yes." "Are you and Bill Ott's friends prepared to denounce mob law?" "Not when it concerns stringin' a nigger." "Then I would much rather you and Bill Ott's friends vote 'ginst me." "H 1, Mat, that ain't no way to look at it. Do you expect to win on a nigger lovin' platform? Why, G dn it" "Andy, don't take God's name in vain around me," "Free country, ain't it ?" "Yes, but don't do it again. I'm obliged for your offer and I'd like to have all your votes but I can't accept 'em and us differin'." "What's that got to do with it? If you aim to beat Dud, why our votes'll do it. Why, for the matter of that, we could run a third man an' beat both of you, for you an' Dud'll jes' split your own strength, an' we could come in with Tobe Ott, for instance, 'n bring him through in a walk." "Do it then." "But we don't want no hard feelin's " "Huh ! There needn't be any. Tobe's got a right to run same as Dud or me, 'n if he's sure of it, he's foolish not to." "We ain't hoggish Tobe'd be satisfied with bein' dep- uty." f "Is that what you wanted to see me about?" "Well, since you ask it yes." "Look here, Andy Dodd, you're the first man who ever proposed a dishonorable action to me." MAGNANIMITY. 19! "Don't reckon I'll be the last since you gone in poli- tics." "It'll be the last one you'll ever propose. This ain't my place if it was I'd order you off but don't you ever speak to me agin." "Why, G " Mat deftly ran his hand back of Andy's shirt collar and said: "Keep your hand out of your pocket; I don't care to fight you. I asked you not to blaspheme around me " "An' I'll blaspheme as much as I G " "What's the matter, boys?" broke in Betty. She had been noticing them from the kitchen window while she was taking up supper, and when Mat grasped Andy she hurried out. "Nothin', Betty," said her brother. "N"othin'?" echoed Andy, twisting desperately, "Take your hand off me and I'll show you, you G ," but he never finished it. Mat could have easily beaten him down like a dog, but he merely stopped his mouth and led him to the lane gate. Betty had it wide open for him and ex- claimed, furiously, "Don't spare him, Mat !" But Mat, the roadside reached, released his hold and walked back giving Andy full opportunity to knife him from behind, which, however, Andy failed to do. Betty threw her arms around her brother and said, vehemently : "I'll never speak to him until he apologizes for insultin* you." "It wasn't me it was God he insulted." "Tie's a a" "Hold on, Betty, you know mother's motto 'Judge not' I see one o' Dud's hands out front h'y, Ed want to see me ?" 192 MATTHEW DOYLE. "Yes, sir heah's a letter heah Mister Dudley says there warn't no answer." "'Light anyhow, Ed go back in the kitchen you can have supper presently." The darkey got down from his horse and brought the letter to Mat, and the latter opened it as he and his sister returned to the house. Coming to the steps he said : "Go on in, Bet, 111 be there directly." When Mat finished the page and glanced up he observed Miss Hennon in the doorway. "Step here," he requested, "and read this." She read : "Dear Mat : The example of true principle you have always set me would be ill requited if I should, after our life-time friendship, fail to profit by it. Since our talk to-day what I should do is plain before me, and, far from hesitating to do it, I feel gratified in being able to give you some little proof that I am not a bad debtor for you know well, old boy, that I am indebted to you for what there is of good in me. "I withdraw to-day from the race for Sheriff and, far from feeling any loss, I feel I have gained and so you must feel the same, and accept my vote and support in the spirit it is tendered. Believe me, inasnmch as 1 am the only one vitally interested in my candidacy, that my withdrawal can cause no disappointment to any one, so long as it has the happy sanction of your friend, Dud." When Miss Hennon /'silently handed the paper back to Mat he said, slowly : "That's what I call the soul of " "Magnanimity," completed the little teacher. CHAPTER XVII. ANDY DODD, GENT. DUD'S withdrawal caused Whittledom, and, indeed, all Pike town and county to lose interest in the Sheriff's race. Of course, it was merely a bluff on Andy's part that Tobe Ott had any serious idea of running. Beyond the outfit, who controlled the town precinct, Tobe couldn't have raised a corporal's guard as against any one man, though had Dud remained in the race, there is no doubt but that disaffected voters would have gone over to the "dark horse." As it was, Mat was nominated, and, six weeks later, elected and duly installed in office. Dud gained universal odium by what Pike thought was his milk-and-water policy. His erstwhile staunchest supporters drew off from him in dudgeon, and allowed that "they wuz denied glad he showed his lack o' sand while the game was young; for they'd 'a hated powerful bad to help 'lect a Xancy for Sheriff." The idiots little kenned the magnanimity that had inspired Dud's move, or the moral courage it had taken to consum- mate it : true disinterestedness was as foreign to them as it is to your tailor-made cit. Dud, with the Ott wing back of him, would have been invincible, and for a man to hand over an office to his antagonist in that manner was well- nigh inexplicable to those constituents, whom our politi- cians are prone to denominate "the incorruptible yeo- manry/' But Dud had no explanations or apologies to offer. He [193] 194 MATTHEW DOYLE. still kept close at home, albeit the repairs on his place stopped. There were those who prophesied that he would be Mat's deputy, especially the Ott outfit; but, to Pike's amazement, Mat took the reins of office in hand without a deputy. He said it was nonsense, and a waste of money, and he didn't intend having one except during his tax- collecting trips, and he made good his intention. True, it gave him plenty to do ; but he said that was what he looked for, and he didn't suppose the State could make any sort of an out hiring do-nothings, he found he never could on the farm. Deacon Hicks kept getting more and more rushed with business, and scarcely had time to stop by the Court House and say "Morning" to "Sheriff Doyle," as he was fond of dubbing him. So the fall began to glide away into winter, and when Mat went on his first collecting trip, lo! all Pike County stood agape he wore a brand new necktie, week days as well as Sundays. The old heads allowed that "he sartinly wuz a-gittin' stuck up quicker'n the average, 'n if he stayed in thar two terms he'd be a-wearin' a long-tailed ^behavior' 'n a plug hat he would, by gum!" The good Deacon smiled way up his sleeve and stated, for his part, that it was no Sheriff's office that ever bought that cravat, no, sir ; and that whatever was the cause of its appearance, they could expect a wedding ring from the same source some time in the no^far-distant future. He made it a point to deliver that and like remarks where Mat could acci- dentally overhear them ; for instance, after meetings, or on mill days, or in the post-office ; and it frequently happened that (by chance, purely), he would saunter arm in arm part of the way home with Mat of an evening and cite him case after case where friends of his back East had married and ANDY DODD, GENT. 195 settled down in business; and, with Aladdin-like alacrity, had overtaken Dame Fortune in her most smiling humor, and had not neglected their mothers and sisters, either; it seemed they all had mothers and sisters. And (to out with the whole thing), Mat, from merely listening, or murmuring "Huh," came to inquiring the names of those friends, and who they married, and how their mothers and sisters liked it, and what sort of businesses they embarked in; and, upon Brother Hicks remembering, singularly enough, three out of four times, that it was the lumber business, Mat became very thoughtful. Then would Setton retire to his sanctuary, and inwardly contemplate the beatitudes of perseverance, and call to mind that Scottish legend of how another spider had crawled out of a hole after persistent climbing. One evening in November, Dud had just sat down before his fire and began to fall into a gentle reverie to the accom- paniment of a melancholy north wind without. It was one year, precisely, since the time he had stayed all night at Mat's and met Her, and he thought: "There can't be no great sin in my rememberin' it, an 'sort o' dreamin' about it, like ; nor no harm to Mat ; it's only a memory, an' he's got her before- him in life 'n for life, too." There came a tap at his door, and he called : "Come." One of his hands entered with the mail, having just returned from town. "Cold out, Ed ?" asked Dud, listlessly taking the package. "Yessir; 'spec there'll be a heavy frost 'fore mawninV "See any o' Mister Mat's folks ?" "No, sir ; Mister Mat's gone to town." "City?" 19$ MATTHEW DOYLE. "Yessir; him and Deacon Hicks; everybody says they done gone into pa'dnership." "Partnership in what ?" "Sawmillin', I reckon, sir." "Don't see what they wanted to go up to the city for to draw up a partnership lawyers here." "I heerd Old Mister Dodd a-sayin' that he'd a-loaned Mister Mat all he wanted on his ma's place, if he'd a-had his pension money, 'n so I calculated " "Yes, yes; that's about it; that's about it; ah-hey I shan't want anything else to-night, Ed. Did you rub the horse down?" "Yessir ; got plenty o' wood ?" "Plenty; I'm goin' to bed early." "Good night, sir." "Sight, Ed." When the door closed Dud repeated : "Yes, that's jes' about it: gone up to mortgage, 'n, by ganny ! that's what Hicks was raisin' such a hullabaloo for last spring. I' gad ! he'll be in clover, now ; he'll keep Mat busy in the Sheriff's office 'n make the poor fellow believe anything. May not turn out as I suspect, but I'm mightily 'fraid. Mat's so easy an' good; if he was mean like me, he'd keep an eye out for that psalm singer. Ah-hey well, it's no time for my, 'put,' even if it was asked, which it ain't been. An' so Old Man Dodd would 'a ha ! poor old feller, that blamed pension'll -be as near to him when he's cold as it is now 'n I guess it's better that way, for no tellin' what kind o' devilment Andy wouldn't stir up with a couple o' thousand it's a shame 'bout that boy !" Then he relapsed into his reverie, and sat as still as though sleeping until long after the fire had flickered down to a few sparkless embers. ANDY DODD, GENT. 197 Little though Dud or anyone else expected it, a letter was then en route to Old Man Dodd, bearing the news the old postmaster had so long striven and hoped for, and when the new firm of Hicks and Doyle returned from the city next morning they found Pike in a state of unpre- cedented uproar. The morning's mail had brought a com- munication from the Pension Office at Washington, stating that a treasury draft, covering all back payments due on pension number so-and-so, would, in due and early course, be sent to A. B. Dodd, said draft being Uncle Sam's testi- monial for certain services rendered him by A. B. Dodd under Taylor in the forties a long time a regular Rip- Van-Winkle time for our Uncle to be waking 'up but, better late than never. Oh, the Pecksniffs and Bumbles who materialized by the time the draft arrived ! Oh, what a fine pension it was ! Oh, how they all knew that it had been merely a question of time until it should come, though nobody ventured to say just how long a time ! Oh, what a lovable old gentleman Old Man Dodd became ! Oh, how many petticoats were ready to sacrifice themselves and take charge of the dear old gentleman's domestic affairs poor dear he had been a widower so long! Oh, how "inter- estin' " Andy became ! Oh, wasn't it a pity he and Betty were "out" ! Oh, if he and Betty couldn't be brought "in," wouldn't the young petticoats cheerfully undertake to reform him ! Oh, my, wouldn't they ! And, oh ! wasn't it a shame such a smart lad had to run a mill engine awful shame ! Wouldn't a nice business be the thing for him the very thing! So said "Dear" McNeil; so said Uncle Alec McNeil ; and then they looked at Winnie and repeated "the very thing!" and rolled the tid-bit in their mouths, and became' real loving just too loving for r.ny use I "Go 'long, McNeil/' said "Dear," pinching his ear. 198 MATTHEW DOYLE. "Lord bless my soul, dear !" declared Uncle Alec McNeil (who didn't "go 'long") ; "I'd jes give ant/thing to help 'Andy. Why, gracious alive ! I'd jes turn him over my business jes give it to him, y-e-s, umph, huh hee-ha- hey!" "Oh, McNeil, you're so liberal ! He ! he ! he !" "No, 'pon my soul, gecminee ! the money that boy could make ! Dear, can't you fix up a nice little supper to-night some chicken, 'n pie, 'n beat a few eggs, 'n have a little real old-time egg-nog. Lord-a-mercy ! I'll be bound Andy M like a little egg-nog/' "Go right down, McNeil, and tell him jes make him come he needn't be afraid of his old Aunty McNeil; an' tell him about the egg-nog he can jes have it all to him- self." "Y-e-s, dear; and we'll have Mm all to ourselves, hee, ha, hey ! Lord bless my time !" "Go 'long, McNeil an' here, take him two o' these cigars you've had on hand since last Christmas." "Cert'inly, cert'inly, dear; what a dip dip " "Dipper r "Hee! No, no, dear! dip dip oh, shucks dip- low " "Oh, tut, McNeil ! Diplomat's what you're thinkin' of diplomat's a forrener." "Is it? Well, I must a meant oh, yes, yes, yes, I got it turned 'round diplomat's a f orrener, an' an emigrant that's what I was a-gittin at an emigrant's a " "Land sakes, McNeil ! Take them cigars on down to that dear boy an emigrant! Don't you know an emigrant is a varmint, between the size of a muskrat 'n a 'possum idea o' callin' me an emigrant !" "Hee! ha! hey! Well, you're a a " ANDY DODD, GENT. 199 "Oh, hurry, McNeil; some o' those wicked, low-down Ott's '11 be tryin' to lead poor Andy off." 'Tin gone, then don't forgit to charge them cigars to lemme see " "I'll charge 'em to Dud Trenome " "But he don't use 'em." "Well, he uses coffee, don't he? McXeil, you're gettin* dull powerful dull ; 'n jes when you ought to be sharpest." "I'll sharpen up 'ginst to-night," and out he shuffled, leaving "Dear" immersed in streams of blissful speculation. What was the upshot of all this Pecksniffianism and Bumbledumism ? If the reader has read Andy's nature aright, the upshot was not whether it made a fool of him, but how big a fool it made. Without pausing to consider that that most powerful of all lubricators, money, had greased the hinges of his flatterers' knees, and without seeming to recollect that those very flatterers, and, first and foremost, the McXeils, had, up to the morning of the Pension Office notification, been his most consistent abus- ers, he opened his maw like a young catbird, and gulped down the gobs of sickly sycophancy, all the while crying, like the birdling: "Pee wee! More yet! Pee wee! More yet !" And while Pike was thusly loading him with the hope of eventually pumping him the more dry, did he think of Betty? Yes, he thought of her; he remembered her years of love for him ; he called to mind that when his new-found friends were belching venomous scandal at him from every cross fence, Betty was his comforter, his apologist, his true- blue sweetheart ; yes, these things came to him, and here is the effect they produced: "Xow, by G d," he said to Bill Ott, when the pension news came ; "now I reckon Bet Doyle'll sing a new tune < 200 MATTHEW DOYLE. she'll kind o' wish she hadn't been so d n brash 'bout hidin' that white-livered brother behind her skirts! But 6he can go to the devil! I'm d n lucky I give her her walkin' papers hey, Bill?" "Why, sure, Andy does credit to your good sense," and down went another gob. Of course, Old Man Dodd had the highest attainable notions of what he would have Andy do with the pension all his plans converging to the title of Andy Dodd, Gent. But a man who could ,sink to such a stage of moral perver- sion as to even breathe Betty's pure name before Bill Ott, the apotheosis of contamination, could hardly be expected to realize any status significant of gentility or gentlemanli- ness, although 1 am not prepared to deny that he might readily lay claim to designation Andy Dodd, M. P. (Moral Pervert.) Be that as it may, Andy agreed with the McNeils that "firin' " was beneath him. We know that he had long detested the service of friend Hicks; now he found that he had really detested all "firin' " service. Conse- quently, he determined to bid adieu to Hicks' service in particular, and all "firin' " service in general, and just how to do it consistent with the dignity of Andy Dodd, Gent, was a matter of no little consideration. He couldn't just quit. That suited laborers well enough, but it wouldn't do at all for gentlemen. So he solved it in your true gen- tlemanly style : met Hicks in a crowd, and after giving him a genteel cursing out/for old time's sake, resigned, and wished the firm of Hicks & Doyle a cold berth here and a hot one hereafter, (though why he should want to be in proximity to his enemies for eternity is beyond me). The Pecksniffs and the Bumbles roared over Andy's gentleman-like way of "firin' Hicks 'n Doyle," as Wicked ANDY DODD, GENT. 2OI Bill termed it ; but when Mat heard of it he stepped over to 'the deadfall and said to his partner: "Deacon, I'm sorry I wasn't there yesterday. Bein' as I'm partner, I ought to come in for half the cussin's Huh!" The Deacon feigned a most pious "hit-me-on-the-other- cheek" air, and, pointing to his Bible, said : "Forgive him, he knew not what he did." "Oh, huh ! You know I'll freely forgive him." "That's right, my son, perfectly right. '// thine enemy smite thee' elf? eh?" And thereby hangs a tale ! CHAPTEB x vni- LM: j ::. flat the Beacon forgot or it safeh" fn Us little it draw interest Ac : : II^-H: "i: ^- T : _: :; * * J3 J3 ' .: - " ~\i . ''-'-- : .'- -' . .' '.:'- r :: L -L~ .-- -^- .: v-i.r L! :-_: :-: - :: . ;^ '.'. _ ! _t 1 " r J'l I.": LT 1 :.!': >:- . 2O4 MATTHEW DOYLE. The train from the north didn't stop at Pike in those days, but threw the mail off as she passed. She had scarcely cleared the corporation limits before the agent came bust- ling in and tossed the familiar-looking sacks over the counter. With his accustomed circumspection, the old man emptied them, and began assorting their contents, Deacon Hicks remarking that he'd wait for his mail. After the letters had been stamped and pigeon-holed, there remained laying on the table a long envelope, ad- dressed to A. B. Dodd, Esq. A. B. Dodd, Esq., opened it, and presently called to Hicks: "Dee-con, will you please step here?" "Cer-nly, sir, cer-nly," and behind the case he went. "Here it is," said the old man, holding out a slip of paper." "You mean draft?" ^es the dra-aft." "Congratulations, sir; congratulations, dear sir." "Dee-con, I'd like to go right up to teown 'n get the money, but Andy's done gone 'n I declare, I " "Not another word, sir ! Lessee, lessee, eight ten plenty time, plenty time allow me to go." "Dee-con, that's powerful kind of you to " "No more, sir not kind at all, at all gives greatest pleasure; now just Morse it 'dorse it." "You mean put my name " "That's it, sir right/there little further up there good! Now, lessee, eight twelve, ten minutes yet. I'll step over Court House." "Well Dee-con, 'fore you go, lemme give you a little tin box I got here it'll be the very thing to put the money in here it is." HICKS, PEDRO AND CO. "Beautiful beau-tiful, sir just it." "It's a box they sent me from the Department when I was first appointed see, it's got U. S. on it." "U. S. the very thing " "'N Dee-con, git it all in currency." "Currency good, sir, lessee, eight fifteen, good-bye, sir; be home this evening." A cordial handshake and the Deacon, the draft and the little box departed. That afternoon, at three thirty to the dot, the Deacon, the little box, and a package of nice, new, crisp greenbacks, walked into the post-office, followed by Whittledom. The news had gone around, and Old Man Dodd had told over and over again just what he had said, and just what the "Dee-con" had said, and all about it little box, U. S., and all. After the greenbacks were viewed by enraptured Whittledom, Hicks and Old Man Dodd retired to the latter's sleeping room. Closeted together there, Hicks informed his "dear old friend" that he would gladly offer him his safe for temporary use, but it was such an old, easily-gotten-into affair, that he, himself, never kept much cash in it, and since he and Matthew had gone into partnership, he had been more careful than ever, as it was his duty to be on Mat's account. The Deacon whipped the Devil around a regular Califor- nia stump in telling this, and it was all wasted, for the old man said, when Hicks had finished : "I'm powerful obliged to you, Dee-con, but I ain't a-skeered to keep it here ; I got no enemies, thank the Lord ! 'n I don't believe the world's as bad as it's made out to be nohow. I'll jes put it right down in this little trunk, snug as you please; Andy'll be home by supper, 'n it'll give the dear boy a hearty appetite to take a look at his money 'n, Dee-con, Andy may be jes 206 MATTHEW DOYLE. a leetle wild, J n hot-headed, but he'll come out strong yet 'n make that money count." Hicks thought so, too had thought so all along and after assisting the old man to put the box away (and noticing the trunk lock was broken), took his leave. Supper time came, but Andy didn't; night time came, but still no Andy; and after prolonging his bedtime until far past his usual hour, Old Man Dodd retired alone. There are very few business firms that cannot be found in Bradstreet's, but I am inclined to believe that the firm which was established that night in Pike is one of them "Hicks, Pedro & Co." The firm was organized shortly after dusk in the Deacon's sanctuary, and after an execu- tive session of an hour's duration, took a recess. Later in the night the firm again held a business meeting, evidently for the purpose of capitalizing stock, for a package of crisp, Hew greenbacks was much in evidence. When the meeting adjourned, the afore-mentioned package was placed in a neat little tin box bearing the initials IT. S., and that was in turn, placed in the Deacon's trunk. The following morning Andy and the Otts returned from Fritz's, and had hardly entered town before being apprised of the draft's arrival. Andy hurried over home and received in detail from his father the much-rehashed account of what had been said and done on the day before ; and then the old man, beaming with anticipations of Andy's delight, took his son back to the trunk, raised the lid, and said: "Now, Andy, you lift the tray up 'n I'll git it." Up went the tray, and the old man stooped down, mur- muring : "It's right in this corner, underneath my winter why, let me see no maybe I put it in the other corner HICKS, PEDRO AND CO. 2O7 I'll de clare maybe it's at the bottom Andy! Andy! Andy! It's gone my Lord! it's gone!" Down fell the tray; down knelt Andy right and left went the contents of the trunk, and finally, young Dodd, perspiring and trembling, gasped: "Gone, by G d ! You've played h 1, pa !" Gone it was, and the poor old man sobbed like a child (as, indeed, he was in all but age), and heard not the harsh, wicked, unfilial words of his son. Poor old man left a widower when Andy was in knee-breeches con- centrating all his hopes on his only child, and now, when needing the affection and strong arm of that child, to have a profane exclamation of selfish chagrin hurled at his gray head. The loss of money ! What was it ? Some- thing ascertainable and attainable by dollars and cents by labor, by supply and demand, by skill, by luck, by chance, by theft: a sum a fortune, if you will but something that represented to Andy not one tithe of the princely fortune he had in an example of integrity, Christianity and humility. The loss of the greenbacks! The repeatedly voluntary rejection of a legacy of rectitude and righteous- ness ! The two won't bear comparison, and contrast but minimizes the one and magnifies the other. Day after day, year after year, Andy had let Sin steal his father's teach- ings, little thinking that the grave grew ever closer, little supposing that once gone, "The wealth of every treasure store" could not bring back his sire and little caring ! Money the earning of which Andy held in the skill of his own good right hand ; placed higher in his heart than a heritage of honor. Well had the mentor, Bill Ott, taught his pupil ! iSTow, when he could witness grief for him only and not for the money in itself; now, when he could stab that grief with "You've played h 1, pa!" now, I 2O8 MATTHEW DOYLE, say, was he truly fit for a diploma signed by depravity's entire faculty. Every effort was made, but no trace could be found of the money, or the thief or thieves. It seemed insoluble. The firm of "Hicks, Pedro & Co." were silent partners, as silent as futurity, the Sphinx, and the Seven Sleepers com- bined and condensed. The night the money was stolen, just as the firm adjourned, and, to all intents and pur- poses, dissolved, the senior member whispered to the junior member : "Pedro must lie low low, Pedro, low. Soon excite- ment blows over authorities quiet down division you your share me, mine, eh, Pedro, eh ?" Pedro "eh'd" and assented, knowing the "sanctuary" would be the last place in the world searched, and the Deacon the last human, being suspected. CHAPTER XIX. "HELP !" TIME kept rolling on in Pike pretty much after the same fashion of its rolling in other places only, maybe, not as varied. The Dodd robbery was still unravelled, and though Mat had worked tirelessly on the case, it was a case that wouldn't untangle for Mat or anybody else. The Deacon from time to time had essayed to coach his partner, suggesting pos- sible clews that turned out with a monotonous sameness, to wit, nil. As for Old Man Dodd, he remained as dazed as though humanity's perpetual Lawn-Mower had never rolled an inch since the greenbacks disappeared. He saw and noted (and his heart bled thereat), Andy's reckless course, and, simple-minded old fellow that he was, he cherished a mute hope that whoever took the money would also see and note his boy's kennel-ward drift and return the money, thereby damming the drift. But as the good old Christian never gave voice to the hope, the hypoth- ecator of those greenbacks couldn't ever become aware of it, or the greenbacks would most assuredly have been replaced with interest. He consulted Brother Hicks about the advisability of posting a notice of his hope in the shape of a reward, but upon the Deacon informing him that that wo aid constitute the fearful crime of compounding a felony, the old man alarmedly abandoned the notion. So it went or, more precisely, so it stopped. Panta- [209] 2IO MATTHEW DOYLE. looned Pike's bucolic Pinkertons gave it up, and resumed whittling; Petticoated Pike did likewise, and resumed scandal and kindred neighborly diversions or, in other words, the particular criminal not being located, they went back to their occupation of manufacturing bad characters at second hand. Mat and the Deacon were the only people in the country who held to it Mat from a sincerely disinterested desire to recover the money, and Hicks from a sincerely interested desire to keep his partners mind from (sawmill) business worries. Andy, when he found Time so unaccommodating about its rolling, and no signs of apprehending the taker or the taken, took the next best thing a firmer grip on the moral toboggan slide than he had hitherto enjoyed. He wouldn't have gone back to Hicks for any consideration, although Hicks was (good soul!) more than willing to reinstate him, telling Mat that " 'To err was human and' eh? eh? Matthew ?" and "Matthew," needless to say, replied, "Huh, 'course, Deacon : Lord knows I bear him no malice." But Andy bore enough malice for Mat and him both, and at the bare suggestion of returning to his old duties (with better pay, too, which was Mat's work), sneered: "Me go back to firm' for that push, after the way they've acted ? Not by a h 1 of a d n sight !" He did venture up to city and even joined the union, but as his father had to go-, up a few days later and bail him out of the caliboose, he concluded that Pike and liberty (license) was preferable to the city and calibooses; so he came back to Bill of profane fame, and having several flasks secreted about him, was, if you will believe me, welcomed with salvos of sulphuric salutations. "Pedro" had essayed to re-enter the gaieties of urban life " HELP " 211 several times, but the Deacon gave first one plausible reason for postponing the division of the greenbacks, and then another, until early summer had nigh set in and found our sable friend still waiting, though he was not waiting as still as Hicks could wish. Occasionally he managed to obtain a small advancement on the dividend, but Bill and Andy and Constable Tobe usually had it discounted by mid- night, for although the negro was proficient in metropol- itan card methods, he found the rural white man's burden a losing game in Pike. Miss Hennon's second term was drawing to a close. She had grown to be a general favorite, not alone with the young folks, but the old ones as well. When she first came, Pike eyed her somewhat askance. Dud, who had jiot then lost prestige, had negatively opposed her selec- tion, from a natural and laudable enough point of view; and Pike echoed his sentiments, not because of any sec- tional prejudice, you understand, but because every town or county likes "home talent" best; and, for my part, if 'liome talent" isn't supported at Iwme, and is even half- way worthy of support, why, the chances are, it will have an uphill fight getting it abroad. Of coiirse, citizens of the Ott calibre opposed Miss Hen- non, just as they would oppose the Saviour Himself, if he had hailed from Yankee-land; but the citizens of the Ott calibre were the very same citizens who bushwhacked and pillaged and fought bluecoats every way except face to face in the sixties; were the very citizens who were negro overseers in the fifties, and negro seducers in the seven- ties ; were the verj citizens who cried "Hurrah !" when the South's best friend fell in Ford's Theatre (and when the real Confederates were genuinely indignant at the assassin- ation) ; were the very citizens but why go on? That 212 MATTHEW DOYLE. calibre may control the miserable, little, non-representative, back-water stations along the railroads, but they will never control the sons of Stevens, Davis, Lee, Lamar, Beck and Grady. That calibre is a curse, but not a criterion; and so the little teacher taught on, and her well wishers were legion. At the close of the first term she, in conjunction with some mothers and big sisters, had given the scholars a pic-nic; this year it was to be repeated, and from the amount of cakes and pies and things being made at the Doyleses, Mat observed: "Picnic ! I say pic-nic to-morrow the doctor'll say "Gee whillikens!" "Never mind, Laura," laughed Mother Doyle, "he's jea mad 'cause he ain't a-goin'. "