/7*APE COD 
 V9 STORIES 
 
 JOSEPH C.JJNCOLN
 
 o-o
 
 UNIT, OP CALIF. LIBRARY. LOS ANGELE*
 
 CAPE COD STORIES 
 
 OR 
 
 THE "OLD HOME HOUSE"
 
 Cape Cod Stories 
 
 FORMERLY PUBLISHED UNDER THE TITLE OF 
 "THE OLD HOME HOUSE" 
 
 By JOSEPH C. LINCOLN 
 
 Author of" Mr. Pratt," "Cap n Eri," "Partners of the 
 Tide," "The Depot Master," etc. 
 
 A. L. BURT COMPANY 
 
 PUBLISHERS NEW YORK
 
 Copyright 190 7 by 
 S. BARNES & COMPANY 
 All rights reserved
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Two PAIRS OF SHOES i 
 
 THE COUNT AND THE MANAGER. ... 29 
 
 THE SOUTH SHORE WEATHER BUREAU . 53 
 
 THE DOG STAR 77 
 
 THE MARE AND THE MOTOR .... 103 
 
 THE MARK ON THE DOOR 125 
 
 THE LOVE OF LOBELIA ANKINS . . . 155 
 
 THE MEANNESS OF ROSY 181 
 
 THE ANTIQUERS 209 
 
 His NATIVE HEATH 233 
 
 "JONESY" 26l 
 
 2130923
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 "SHE JIBED OH, YES SHE JIBED" Frontispiece 
 WE HOVE IN SIGHT OF DILLAMEAD . . 7 
 HE RARED UP ON His HANDS , 47 
 
 IN COMES EBEN AND THE WIDDER ... 71 
 "THEY RE EATING HIM ALIVE" .... 97 
 HE PITCHED HEAD FIRST INTO THE COCKPIT 113 
 
 "HE FAIRLY SOBBED WITH DISAPPOINT 
 MENT" 130 
 
 "I Pur FOR THE WOODS" 170 
 
 ROSY TOOK THE QUEEN S PICTURE . . . 195 
 
 FRIENDS HAD A CHANCE TO VIEW THE 
 
 REMAINS 219 
 
 THAT WAS His AFTERNOON S WORK . . 243 
 
 INSIDE OF A FORTNIGHT HE WAS A GONE 
 GOOSE 285 
 
 rii
 
 THE 
 "OLD HOME HOUSE "
 
 THE "OLD HOME HOUSE 
 
 TWO PAIRS OF SHOES 
 
 I don t exactly know why Cap n Jonadab and 
 me went to the post-office that night; we wa n t 
 expecting any mail, that s sartin. I guess likely 
 we done it for the reason the feller that tumbled 
 overboard went to the bottom twas the handiest 
 place to go. 
 
 Anyway we was there, and I was propping up 
 the stove with my feet and holding down a chair 
 with the rest of me, when Jonadab heaves along 
 side flying distress signals. He had an envelope 
 in his starboard mitten, and, coming to anchor 
 with a flop in the next chair, sets shifting the 
 thing from one hand to the other as if it twas 
 red hot. 
 
 I watched this performance for a spell, waiting 
 for him to say something, but he didn t, so I 
 hailed, kind of sarcastic, and says: "What you
 
 2 THE " OLD HOME HOUSE " 
 
 doing playing solitaire ? Which hand s ahead ? " 
 
 He kind of woke up then, and passes the 
 envelope over to me. 
 
 "Barzilla," he says, "what in time do you 
 s pose that is ? " 
 
 Twas a queer looking envelope, more n the 
 average length fore and aft, but kind of scant in 
 the beam. There was a puddle of red sealing 
 wax on the back of it with a "D" in the middle, 
 and up in one corner was a kind of picture thing 
 in colors, with some printing in a foreign language 
 underneath it. I b lieve twas what they call a 
 "coat-of-arms," but it looked more like a patch 
 work comforter than it did like any coat ever 
 / see. The envelope was addressed to "Captain 
 Jonadab Wixon, Orham, Mass." 
 
 I took my turn at twisting the thing around, 
 and then I hands it back to Jonadab. 
 
 "I pass," I says. "Where d you get it?" 
 
 Twas in my box," says he. " Must have 
 come in to-night s mail." 
 
 I didn t know the mail was sorted, but when 
 he says that I got up and went over and unlocked 
 my box, just to show that I hadn t forgot how, 
 and I swan to man if there wa n t another envelope, 
 just like Jonadab s, except that twas addressed 
 to "Barzilla Wingate." 
 ^ "Humph!" says I, coming back to the stove;
 
 TWO PAIRS OF SHOES 3 
 
 "you ain t the only one that s heard from the 
 Prince of Wales. Look here!" 
 
 He was the most surprised man, but one, on 
 the Cape: I was the one. We couldn t make 
 head nor tail of the business, and set there com 
 paring the envelopes, and wondering who on 
 earth had sent em. Pretty soon "Ily" Tucker 
 heads over towards our moorings, and says he: 
 "What s troubling the ancient mariners ? " he says. 
 
 "Barzilla and me s got a couple of letters," 
 says Cap n Jonadab; "and we was wondering 
 who they was from." 
 
 Tucker leaned away down he s always suffer 
 ing from a rush of funniness to the face and he 
 whispers, awful solemn: "For heaven s sake, 
 whatever you do, don t open em. You might 
 find out." Then he threw off his main-hatch 
 and "haw-hawed" like a loon. 
 
 To tell you the truth, we hadn t thought of 
 opening em not yet so that was kind of one 
 on us, as you might say. But Jonadab ain t so 
 slow but he can catch up with a hearse if the 
 horses stop to drink, and he comes back quick. 
 
 "Ily," he says, looking troubled, "you ought 
 to sew reef-points on your mouth. Tain t safe 
 to open the whole of it on a windy night like this. 
 First thing you know you ll carry away the top 
 of your head."
 
 4 THE " OLD HOME HOUSE " 
 
 Well, we felt consider ble better after that 
 having held our own on the tack, so to speak 
 and we walked out of the post-office and up to 
 my room in the Travellers Rest, where we could 
 be alone. Then we opened up the envelopes, 
 both at the same time. Inside of each of em 
 was another envelope, slick and smooth as a 
 mack rel s back, and inside of that was a letter, 
 printed, but looking like the kind of writing that 
 used to be in the copybook at school. It said 
 that Ebenezer Dillaway begged the honor of our 
 presence at the marriage of his daughter, Belle, 
 to Peter Theodosius Brown, at Dillamead House, 
 Cashmere-on-the-Hudson, February three, nine 
 teen hundred and so forth. 
 
 We were surprised, of course, and pleased in 
 one way, but in another we wa n t real tickled to 
 death. You see, twas a good while sence Jona- 
 bad and me had been to a wedding, and we know 
 there d be mostly young folks there and a good 
 many big-bugs, we presumed likely, and twas 
 going to cost consider ble to get rigged not to 
 mention the price of passage, and one thing a 
 nother. But Ebenezer had took the trouble to 
 write us, and so we felt twas our duty not to 
 disappoint him, and especially Peter, who had 
 done so much for us, managing the Old Home 
 House.
 
 PAIRS OF SHOES 5 
 
 The Old Home House was our summer hotel 
 at Wellmouth Port. How me and Jonadab 
 come to be in the summer boarding trade is 
 another story and it s too long to tell now. We 
 never would have been in it, anyway, I cal late, 
 if it hadn t been for Peter. He made a howling 
 success of our first season and likewise helped 
 himself along by getting engaged to the star 
 boarder, rich old Dillaway s daughter Ebenezer 
 Dillaway, of the Consolidated Cash Stores. 
 
 Well, we see twas our duty to go, so we went. 
 I had a new Sunday cutaway and light pants to 
 go with it, so I figgered that I was pretty well 
 found, but Cap n Jonadab had to pry himself 
 loose from considerable money, and every cent 
 hurt as if twas nailed on. Then he had chil 
 blains that winter, and all the way over in the 
 Fall River boat he was fuming about them chil 
 blains, and adding up on a piece of paper how 
 much cash he d spent. 
 
 We struck Cashmere-on-the-Hudson about 
 three o clock on the afternoon of the day of the 
 wedding. Twas a little country kind of a town, 
 smaller by a good deal than Orham, and so we 
 cal lated that perhaps after all, the affair wouldn t 
 be so everlasting tony. But when we hove in 
 sight of Dillamead Ebenezer s place we short 
 ened sail and pretty nigh drew out of the race*
 
 6 THE " OLD HOME HOUSE " 
 
 Twas up on a high bank over the river, and the 
 house itself was bigger than four Old Homes 
 spliced together. It had a fair-sized township 
 around it in the shape of land, with a high stone 
 wall for trimming on the edges. There was 
 trees, and places for flower-beds in summer, and 
 the land knows what. We see right off that 
 this was the real Cashmere-on-the-Hudson; the 
 village folks were stranded on the flats old 
 Dillaway filled the whole ship channel. 
 
 "Well," I says to Jonadab, "it looks to me as 
 if we was getting out of soundings. What do 
 you say to coming about and making a quick run 
 for Orham again ? " 
 
 But he wouldn t hear of it. "S pose I ve spent 
 all that money on duds for nothing ? " he says. 
 "No, sir, by thunder! I ain t scared of Peter 
 Brown, nor her that s going to be his wife; and 
 I ain t scared of Ebenezer neither; no matter 
 if he does live in the Manufacturers Building, 
 with two or three thousand fathom of front 
 fence," he says. 
 
 Some years ago Jonadab got reckless and went 
 on a cut-rate excursion to the World s Fair out 
 in Chicago, and ever sence then he s been com 
 paring things with the "Manufacturers Build 
 ing" or the "Palace of Agriculture" or "Streets 
 of Cairo," or some other outlandish place.
 
 TWO PAIRS OF SHOES 7 
 
 "All right," says I. "Darn the torpedoes! 
 Keep her as she is! You can fire when ready, 
 Gridley!" 
 
 So we sot sail for what we jedged was Ebenezer s 
 
 WE HOVE IN SIGHT OF DILLAMEAD. 
 
 front-gate, and just as we made it, a man comes 
 whistling round the bend in the path, and I m 
 blessed if twa n t Peter T. Brown. He was 
 rittged to kill, as usual, only more so. 
 "Hello, Peter!" I says. "Here we be."
 
 8 THE " OLD HOME HOUSE " 
 
 If ever a feller was surprised, Brown was that 
 feller. He looked like he d struck a rock where 
 there was deep water on the chart. 
 
 "Well, I ll be " he begun, and then stopped. 
 
 "What in the " he commenced again, and 
 
 again his breath died out. Fin lly he says: "Is 
 this you, or had I better quit and try another pipe ?" 
 
 We told him twas us, and it seemed to me that 
 he wa n t nigh so tickled as he d ought to have 
 been. When he found we d come to the wedding, 
 count of Ebenezer sending us word, he didn t 
 say nothing for a minute or so. 
 
 "Of course, we had to come," says Jonadab. 
 "We felt twouldn t be right to disapp int Mr. 
 Dillaway." 
 
 Peter kind of twisted his mouth. "That s 
 so," he says. "It ll be worth more n a box of 
 diamonds to him. Do him more good than 
 joining a don t worry club. Well, come on up 
 to the house and ease his mind." 
 
 So we done it, and Ebenezer acted even more 
 surprised than Peter. 
 
 I can t tell you anything about that house, nor 
 the fixings in it; it beat me a mile that house 
 did. We had a room somewheres up on the 
 hurricane deck, with brass bunks and plush 
 carpets and crocheted curtains and electric lights. 
 I swan there was looking glasses in every corner
 
 TWO PAIRS OF SHOES 9 
 
 big ones, man s size. I remember Cap n Jonadab 
 hollering to me that night when he was getting 
 ready to turn in: 
 
 " For the land s sake, Barzilla! " says he, " turn 
 out them lights, will you ? I ain t over n* above 
 bashful, but them looking glasses make me feel s 
 if I was undressing along with all hands and the 
 
 The house was full of comp ny, and more kept 
 coming all the time. Swells! don t talk! We 
 felt bout as much at home as a cow in a dory, 
 but we was there cause Ebenezer had asked us 
 to be there, so we kept on the course and didn t 
 signal for help. Travelling through the rooms 
 down stairs where the folks was, was a good deal 
 like dodging icebergs up on the Banks, but 
 one or two noticed us enough to dip the colors, 
 and one was real sociable. He was a kind of 
 slow-spoken city-feller, dressed as if his clothes 
 was poured over him hot and then left to cool. 
 His last name had a splice in the middle of it 
 twas Catesby-Stuart. Everybody that is, most 
 everybody called him " Phil." 
 
 Well, sir, Phil cottoned to Jonadab and me 
 right away. He d get us, one on each wing, and 
 go through that house asking questions. He 
 pumped me and Jonadab dry about how we 
 come to be there, and told us more yarns than a
 
 io THE " OLD HOME HOUSE " 
 
 few bout Dillaway, and how rich he was. I 
 remember he said that he only wished he had the 
 keys to the cellar so he could show us the money- 
 bins. Said Ebenezer was so just well, rotten 
 with money, as you might say, that he kept it in 
 bins down cellar, same as poor folks kept coal 
 gold in one bin, silver half-dollars in another, 
 quarters in another, and so on. When he needed 
 any, he d say to a servant: "James, fetch me up 
 a hod of change." This was only one of the 
 fish yarns he told. They sounded kind of scaly 
 to Jonadab and me, but if we hinted at such a 
 thing, he d pull himself together and say: "Fact, 
 I assure you," in a way to freeze your vitals. He 
 seemed like such a good feller that we didn t 
 mind his telling a few big ones; we d known 
 good fellers afore that liked to lie gunners and 
 such like, they were mostly. 
 
 Somehow or nother Phil got Cap n Jonadab 
 talking "boat," and when Jonadab talks "boat" 
 there ain t no stopping him. He s the smartest 
 feller in a cat-boat that ever handled a tiller, and 
 he s won more races than any man on the Cape, 
 I cal late. Phil asked him and me if we d ever 
 saiiea on an ice-boat, and, when we said we 
 hadn t he asks if we won t take a sail with him 
 on the river next morning. We didn t want to 
 put him to so much trouble on our account, but
 
 TWO PAIRS OF SHOES n 
 
 he said: "Not at all. Pleasure ll be all mine, 
 I assure you." Well, twas his for a spell but 
 never mind that now. 
 
 He introduced us to quite a lot of the comp ny 
 men mostly. He d see a school of em in a 
 corner, or under a palm tree or somewheres, and 
 steer us over in that direction and make us known 
 to all hands. Then he begin to show us off, so 
 to speak, get Jonadab telling bout the boats he d 
 sailed, or something like it and them fellers 
 would laugh and holler, but Phil s face wouldn t 
 shake out a reef: he looked solemn as a fun ral 
 all the time. Jonadab and me begun to think 
 we was making a great hit. Well, we was, but 
 not the way we thought. I remember one of 
 the gang gets Phil to one side after a talk like 
 this and whispers to him, laughing like fun. 
 Phil says to him: "My dear boy, I ve been to 
 
 thousands of these things " waving his flipper 
 
 scornful around the premises "and upon honor 
 they ve all been alike. Now that I ve discovered 
 something positively original, let me enjoy myself. 
 The entertainment by the Heavenly Twins is 
 only begun." 
 
 I didn t know what he meant then; I do now. 
 
 The marrying was done about eight o clock and 
 done with all the trimmings. All hands manned 
 the yards in the best parlor, and Peter and Belle
 
 12 THE " OLD HOME HOUSE " 
 
 was hitched. Then they went away in a swell 
 turnout not like the derelict hacks we d seen 
 stranded by the Cashmere depot and Jonadab 
 pretty nigh took the driver s larboard eai off 
 with a shoe Phil gave him to heave after em. 
 
 After the wedding the folks was sitting under 
 the palms and bushes that was growing in tubs 
 all over the house, and the stewards there was 
 enough of em to man a four-master was carting 
 round punch and frozen victuals. Everybody 
 was togged up till Jonadab and me, in our new 
 cutaways, felt like a couple of moulting black 
 birds at a blue-jay camp-meeting. Ebenezer 
 was so busy, flying round like a pullet with its 
 head off, that he d hardly spoke to us sence we 
 landed, but Phil scarcely ever left us, so we wa n t 
 lonesome. Pretty soon he comes back from a 
 beat into the next room, and he says: 
 
 "There s a lady here that s just dying to know 
 you gentlemen. Her name s Granby. Tell her 
 all about the Cape; she ll like it. And, by the 
 way, my dear feller," he whispers to Jonadab 
 "if you want to please her er mightily, con 
 gratulate her upon her boy s success in the laundry 
 business. You understand," he says, winking; 
 "only son and self-made man, don t you know." 
 
 Mrs. Granby was roosting all by herself on 
 a sofy in the parlor. She was fleshy, but terrible
 
 TWO PAIRS OF SHOES 13 
 
 stiff and proud, and when she moved the diamonds 
 on her shook till her head and neck looked like 
 one of them "set pieces" at the Fourth of July 
 fireworks. She was deef, too, and used an ear- 
 trumpet pretty nigh as big as a steamer s ventilator. 
 
 Maybe she was "dying to know us," but she 
 didn t have a fit trying to show it. Me and 
 Jonadab felt we d ought to be sociable, and so we 
 set, one on each side of her on the sofy, and 
 bellered : " How d ye do ? " and " Fine day, 
 ain t it ? " into that ear-trumpet. She didn t 
 say much, but she d couple on the trumpet and 
 turn to whichever one of us had hailed, heeling 
 over to that side as if her ballast had shifted. 
 She acted to me kind of uneasy, but everybody 
 that come into that parlor and they kept piling 
 in all the time looked more n middling joyful. 
 They kept pretty quiet, too, so that every yell 
 we let out echoed, as you might say, all round. 
 I begun to git shaky at the knees, as if I was 
 preaching to a big congregation. 
 
 After a spell, Jonadab not being able to think 
 of anything more to say, and remembering Phil s 
 orders, leans over and whoops into the trumpet. 
 
 "I m real glad your son done so well with his 
 laundry," he says. 
 
 Well, sir, Phil had give us to understand that 
 them congratulations would make a hit, and they
 
 14 THE " OLD HOME HOUSE " 
 
 done it. The women round the room turned 
 red and some of em covered their mouths with 
 their handkerchiefs. The men looked glad and 
 set up and took notice. Ebenezer wa n t in the 
 room which was a mercy but your old mess 
 mate, Catesby-Stuart, looked solemn as ever and 
 never turned a hair. 
 
 But as for old lady Granby whew! She got 
 redder n she was afore, which was a miracle, 
 pretty nigh. She couldn t speak for a minute 
 just cackled like a hen. Then she busts out 
 with: "How dare you!" and flounces out of that 
 room like a hurricane. And it was still as could 
 be for a minute, and then two or three of the 
 girls begun to squeal and giggle behind their 
 handkerchiefs. 
 
 Jonadab and me went away, too. We didn t 
 flounce any to speak of. I guess a "sneak" 
 would come nearer to telling how we quit. I see 
 the cap n heading for the stairs and I fell into his 
 wake. Nobody said good-night, and we didn t 
 wait to give em a chance. 
 
 Course we knew we d put our foot in it some- 
 wheres, but we didn t see just how. Even then 
 we wa n t really onto Phil s game. You see, 
 when a green city chap comes to the Old Home 
 House and the land knows there s freaks enough 
 do come we always try to make things pleasant
 
 TWO PAIRS OF SHOES 15 
 
 for him, and the last thing we d think of was 
 making him a show afore folks. So we couldn t 
 b lieve even now twas done a-purpose. But 
 we was suspicious, a little. 
 
 "Barzilla," says Jonadab, getting ready to 
 turn in, " tain t possible that that feller with the 
 sprained last name is having fun with us, is it ? " 
 
 " Jonadab," says I, "I ve been wondering that 
 myself." 
 
 And we wondered for an hour, and finally 
 decided to wait a while and say nothing till we 
 could ask Ebenezer. And the next morning one 
 of the stewards comes up to our room with some 
 coffee and grub, and says that Mr. Catesby- 
 Stuart requested the pleasure of our comp ny on 
 a afore-breakfast ice-boat sail, and would meet 
 us at the pier in half an hour. They didn t have 
 breakfast at Ebenezer s till pretty close to dinner 
 time, eleven o clock, so we had time enough for 
 quite a trip. 
 
 Phil and the ice-boat met us on time. I s pose 
 it twas style, but, if I hadn t known I d have 
 swore he d run short of duds and had dressed up 
 in the bed-clothes. I felt of his coat when he 
 wa n t noticing, and if it wa n t made out of a 
 blanket then I never slept under one. And it 
 made me think of my granddad to see what he 
 had on his head a reg lar nightcap, tassel and all.
 
 16 THE " OLD HOME HOUSE " 
 
 Phil said he was sorry we turned in so early 
 the night afore. Said he d planned to entertain 
 us all the evening. We didn t hurrah much at 
 this being suspicious, as I said and he changed 
 the subject to ice-boats. 
 
 That ice-boat was a bird. I cal lated to know 
 a boat when I sighted one, but a flat-iron on 
 skates was something bran-new. I didn t think 
 much of it, and I could see that Jonadab didn t 
 neither. 
 
 But in about three shakes of a lamb s tail I 
 was ready to take it all back and say I never 
 said it. I done enough praying in the next half 
 hour to square up for every Friday night meeting 
 I d missed sence I was a boy. Phil got sail onto 
 her, and we moved out kind of slow. 
 
 "Now, then," says he, "we ll take a little 
 jaunt up the river. Course this isn t like one 
 of your Cape Cod cats, but still 
 
 And then I dug my finger nails into the deck 
 and commenced: "Now I lay me." Talk about 
 going! Twas "F-s-s-s-t!" and we was a mile 
 from home. "Bu-z-z-z!" and we was just getting 
 ready to climb a bank; but fore she nosed the 
 shore Phil would put the helm over and we d 
 whirl round like a windmill, with me and Jonadab 
 biting the planking, and hanging on for dear life, 
 and my heart, that had been up in my mouth
 
 TWO PAIRS OF SHOES 17 
 
 knocking the soles of my boots off. And Cap n 
 Catesby-Stuart would grin, and drawl: " Course, 
 this ain t like a Orham cat-boat, but she does 
 fairly well er fairly. Now, for instance, how 
 dees this strike you ?" 
 
 It struck us I don t think any got away. I 
 expected every minute to land in the hereafter, 
 and it got so that the prospect looked kind of 
 inviting, if only to get somewheres where twas 
 warm. That February wind went in at the top 
 of my stiff hat and whizzed out through the legs 
 of my thin Sunday pants till I felt for all the 
 world like the ventilating pipe on an ice-chest. 
 I could see why Phil was wearing the bed-clothes; 
 what I was suffering for just then was a feather 
 mattress on each side of me. 
 
 Well, me and Jonadab was "it" for quite a 
 spell. Phil had all the fun, and I guess he enjoyed 
 it. If he d stopped right then, when the fishing 
 was good, I cal late he d have fetched port with 
 a full hold; but no, he had to rub it in, so to speak, 
 and that s where he slopped over. You know 
 how tis when you re eating mince-pie it s the 
 "one more slice" that fetches the nightmare. 
 Phil stopped to get that slice. 
 
 He kept whizzing up and down that river till 
 Jonadab and me kind of got over our variousness. 
 We could manage to get along without spreading
 
 i8 THE " OLD HOME HOUSE " 
 
 out like porous plasters, and could set up for a 
 minute or so on a stretch. And twa n t necessary 
 for us to hold a special religious service every 
 time the flat-iron come about. Altogether, we 
 was in that condition where the doctor might 
 have held out some hopes. 
 
 And, in spite of the cold, we was noticing how 
 Phil was sailing that three-cornered sneak-box 
 noticing and criticising; at least, I was, and Cap n 
 Jonadab, being, as I ve said, the best skipper of 
 small craft from Provincetown to Cohasset Nar 
 rows, must have had some ideas on the subject. 
 Your old chum, Catesby-Stuart, thought he was 
 mast-high so fur s sailing was concerned, any 
 body could see that, but he had something to larn. 
 He wasn t beginning to get out all there was in 
 that ice-boat. And just then along comes another 
 feller in the same kind of hooker and gives us a 
 hail. There was two other chaps on the boat 
 with him. 
 
 "Hello, Phil!" he yells, rounding his flat-iron 
 into the wind abreast of ours and bobbing his 
 night-cap. "I hoped you might be out. Are 
 you game for a race ? " 
 
 "Archie," answers our skipper, solemn as a 
 setting hen, "permit me to introduce to you 
 Cap n Jonadab Wixon and Admiral Barzilla 
 Wingate, of Orham, on the Cape."
 
 TWO PAIRS OF SHOES 19 
 
 I wasn t expecting to fly an admiral s pennant 
 quite so quick, but I managed to shake out 
 through my teeth they was chattering like a box 
 of dice that I was glad to know the feller. Jon- 
 adab, he rattled loose something similar. 
 
 "The Cap n and the Admiral," says Phil, 
 "having sailed the raging main for lo! these many 
 years, are now favoring me with their advice 
 concerning the navigation of ice-yachts. Archie, 
 if you re willing to enter against such a handicap 
 of brains and barnacles, I ll race you on a beat up 
 to the point yonder, then on the ten mile run 
 afore the wind to the buoy opposite the Club, 
 and back to the cove by Dillaway s. And we ll 
 make it a case of wine. Is it a go ? " 
 
 Archie, he laughed and said it was, and, all 
 at once, the race was on. 
 
 Now, Phil had lied when he said we was "fav 
 oring" him with advice, cause we hadn t said a 
 word; but that beat up to the point wa n t half 
 over afore Jonadab and me was dying to tell him 
 a few things. He handled that boat like a lobster. 
 Archie gained on every tack and come about for 
 the run a full minute afore us. 
 
 And on that run afore the wind twas worse 
 than ever. The way Phil see-sawed that piece 
 of pie back and forth over the river was a sin and 
 shame. He could have slacked off his mainsail
 
 20 THE " OLD HOME HOUSE " 
 
 and headed dead for the buoy, but no, he jiggled 
 around like an old woman crossing the road ahead 
 of a funeral. 
 
 Cap n Jonadab was on edge. Racing was 
 where he lived, as you might say, and he fidgeted 
 like he was setting on a pin-cushion. By and by 
 he snaps out: 
 
 "Keep her off! Keep her off afore the wind! 
 Can t you see where you re going ? " 
 
 Phil looked at him as if he was a graven image, 
 and all the answer he made was; "Be calm, 
 Barnacles, be calm!" 
 
 But pretty soon I couldn t stand it no longer, 
 and I busts out with : " Keep her off, Mr. What s- 
 your name! For the Lord s sake, keep her off I 
 He ll beat the life out of you!" 
 
 And all the good that done was for me to get 
 a stare that was colder than the wind, if such a 
 thing s possible. 
 
 But Jonadab got fidgetyer every minute, and 
 when we come out into the broadest part of the 
 river, within a little ways of the buoy, he couldn t 
 stand it no longer. 
 
 D 
 
 "You re spilling half the wind!" he yells. 
 "Pint* her for the buoy or else you ll be licked to 
 death! Jibe her so s she gits it full. Jibe her, 
 you lubber! Don t you know how? Here! let 
 me show you!"
 
 TWO PAIRS OF SHOES 21 
 
 And the next thing I knew he fetched a hop 
 like a frog, shoved Phil out of the way, grabbed 
 the tiller, and jammed it over. 
 
 She jibed oh, yes, she jibed! If anybody 
 says she didn t you send em to me. I give you 
 my word that that flat-iron jibed twice once for 
 practice, I jedge, and then for business. She 
 commenced by twisting and squirming like an 
 eel. I jest had sense enough to clamp my mittens 
 onto the little brass rail by the stern and hold 
 on; then she jibed the second time. She stood 
 up on two legs, the boom come over with a slat 
 that pretty nigh took the mast with it, and the 
 whole shebang whirled around as if it had forgot 
 something. I have a foggy kind of remembrance 
 of locking my mitten clamps fast onto that rail 
 while the rest of me streamed out in the air like 
 a burgee. Next thing I knew we was scooting 
 back towards Dillaway s, with the sail catching 
 every ounce that was blowing. Jonadab was 
 braced across the tiller, and there, behind us, was 
 the Honorable Philip Catesby-Stuart, flat on his 
 back, with his blanket legs looking like a pair of 
 compasses, and skimming in whirligigs over the 
 slick ice towards Albany. He hadn t had nothing 
 to hold onto, you understand. Well, if I hadn t 
 seen it, I wouldn t have b lieved that a human 
 being could spin so long or travel so fast on his
 
 22 THE " OLD HOME HOUSE " 
 
 back. His legs made a kind of smoky circle 
 in the air over him, and he d got such a start I 
 thought he d never stop a-going. He come to a 
 place where some snow had melted in the sun and 
 there was a pond, as you might say, on the ice, 
 and he went through that, heaving spray like one 
 of them circular lawn sprinklers the summer 
 folks have. He d have been as pretty as a foun 
 tain, if we d had time to stop and look at him. 
 
 "For the land sakes, heave to!" I yelled, soon s 
 I could get my breath. "You ve spilled the 
 skipper! " 
 
 "Skipper be durned!" howls Jonadab, squeez 
 ing the tiller and keeping on the course; "We ll 
 come back for him by and by. It s our business 
 to win this race." 
 
 And, by ginger! we did win it. The way 
 Jonadab coaxed that cocked hat on runners 
 over the ice was pretty yes, sir, pretty! He 
 nipped her close enough to the wind ard, and he 
 took advantage of every single chance. He 
 always could sail; I ll say that for him. We 
 walked up on Archie like he d set down to rest, 
 and passed him afore he was within a half mile 
 of home. We run up abreast of Dillaway s, 
 putting on all the fancy frills of a liner coming into 
 port, and there was Ebenezer and a whole crowd 
 of wedding company down by the landing.
 
 TWO PAIRS OF SHOES 23 
 
 "Gosh!" says Jonadab, tugging at his whiskers: 
 " Twas Cape Cod against New York that time, 
 and you can t beat the Cape when it comes to 
 getting over water, not even if the water s froze. 
 Hey, Barzilla?" 
 
 Ebenezer came hopping over the ice towards 
 us. He looked some surprised. 
 
 "Where s Phil?" he says. 
 
 Now, I d clean forgot Phil and I guess Jonadab 
 had, by the way he colored up. 
 
 "Phil?" says he. "Phil? Oh, yes! We left 
 him up the road a piece. Maybe we d better go 
 after him now." 
 
 But old Dillaway had something to say. 
 
 "Cap n," he says, looking round to make sure 
 none of the comp ny was follering him out to the 
 ice-boat. "I ve wanted to speak to you afore, 
 but I haven t had the chance. You mustn t 
 b lieve too much of what Mr. Catesby-Stuart 
 says, nor you mustn t always do just what he 
 suggests. You see," he says, "he s a dreadful 
 practical joker." 
 
 "Yes," says Jonadab, beginning to look sick. 
 I didn t say nothing, but I guess I looked the 
 same way. 
 
 "Yes," said Ebenezer, kind of uneasy like; 
 "Now, in that matter of Mrs. Granby. I s posc 
 Phil put you up to asking her about her son s
 
 24 THE " OLD HOME HOUSE " 
 
 laundry. Yes ? Well, I thought so. You sec, 
 the fact is, her boy is a broker down in Wall 
 Street, and he s been caught making some of 
 what they call wash sales of stock. It s against 
 the rules of the Exchange to do that, and the 
 papers have been full of the row. You can 
 see," says Dillaway, "how the laundry question 
 kind of stirred the old lady up. But, Lord! it 
 must have been funny," and he commenced to grin. 
 
 I looked at Jonadab, and he looked at me. I 
 thought of Marm Granby, and her being "dying 
 to know us," and I thought of the lies about the 
 "hod of change" and all the rest, and I give you 
 my word / didn t grin, not enough to show my 
 wisdom teeth, anyhow. A crack in the ice an 
 inch wide would have held me, with room to 
 spare; I know that. 
 
 "Hum!" grunts Jonadab, kind of dry and 
 bitter, as if he d been taking wormwood tea; "/ 
 see. He s been having a good time making durn 
 fools out of us." 
 
 "Well," says Ebenezer, "not exactly that, 
 p raps, but " 
 
 And then along comes Archie and his crowd 
 in the other ice-boat. 
 
 "Hi!" he yells. "Who sailed that boat of 
 yours ? He knew his business all right. I never 
 ww anything better. Phil why, where is Phil ? "
 
 TWO PAIRS OF SHOES 25 
 
 I answered him. "Phil got out when we 
 jibed," I says. 
 
 "Was that Phil?" he hollers, and then the 
 three of em just roared. 
 
 "Oh, by Jove, you know!" says Archie, "that s 
 the funniest thing I ever saw. And on Phil, too! 
 He ll never hear the last of it at the club hey, 
 boys ? " And then they just bellered and laughed 
 again. 
 
 When they d gone, Jonadab turned to Ebenezer 
 and he says: "That taking us out on this boat 
 was another case of having fun with the country 
 men. Hey ? " 
 
 "I guess so," says Dillaway. "I b lieve he 
 told one of the guests that he was going to put 
 Cape Cod on ice this morning." 
 
 I looked away up the river where a little black 
 speck was just getting to shore. And I thought 
 of how chilly the wind was out there, and how 
 that ice-water must have felt, and what a long 
 ways twas from home. And then I smiled, slow 
 and wide; there was a barge load of joy in every 
 half inch of that smile. 
 
 "It s a cold day when Phil loses a chance for 
 a joke," says Ebenezer. 
 
 r Tain t exactly what you d call summery 
 just now," I says. And we hauled down sail, 
 run the ice-boat up to the wharf, and went up to
 
 *6 r HE " OLD HOME HOUSE " 
 
 our room to pack our extension cases for the 
 next train. 
 
 "You see," says Jonadab, putting in his other 
 shirt, "it s easy enough to get the best of Cape 
 folks on wash sales and lying, but when it comes 
 to boats that s a different pair of shoes." 
 
 **I guess Phil ll agree with you," I says.
 
 THE COUNT AND THE MANAGER
 
 THE COUNT AND THE MANAGER 
 
 The way we got into the hotel business in the 
 first place come around like this: Me and Cap n 
 Jonadab went down to Wellmouth Port one day 
 long in March to look at some property he d 
 had left him. Jonadab s Aunt Sophrony had 
 moved kind of sudden from that village to Beulah 
 Land they re a good ways apart, too and Cap n 
 Jonadab had come in for the old farm, he being 
 the only near relative. 
 
 When you go to Wellmouth Port you get off 
 the cars at Wellmouth Center and then take 
 Labe Bearse s barge and ride four miles; and 
 then, if the horse don t take a notion to lay down 
 in the road and go to sleep, or a wheel don t 
 come off or some other surprise party ain t sprung 
 on you, you come to a place where there s a Bap 
 tist chapel that needs painting, and a little two- 
 for-a-cent store that needs trade, and two or 
 three houses that need building over, and any 
 Lord s quantity of scrub pines and beach grass 
 and sand. Then you take Labe s word for it 
 
 29
 
 30 THE " OLD HOME HOUSE " 
 
 that you ve got to Wellmouth Port and get out 
 of the barge and try to remember you re a church 
 member. 
 
 Well, Aunt Sophrony s house was a mile or 
 more from the place where the barge stopped, 
 and Jonadab and me, we hoofed it up there. We 
 bought some cheese and crackers and canned 
 things at the store, cause we expected to stay 
 overnight in the house, and knew there wasn t 
 no other way of getting provender. 
 
 We got there after a spell and set down on the 
 big piazza with our souls full of gratitude and 
 our boots full of sand. Great, big, old-fashioned 
 house with fourteen big bedrooms in it, big barn, 
 sheds, and one thing or nother, and perched 
 right on top of a hill with five or six acres of 
 ground round it. And how the March wind 
 did whoop in off the sea and howl and screech 
 lonesomeness through the pine trees! You take 
 it in the middle of the night, with the shutters 
 rattling and the old joists a-creaking and Jona 
 dab snoring like a chap sawing hollow logs, and 
 if it wan t joy then my name ain t Barzilla Win- 
 gate. I don t wonder Aunt Sophrony died. I d 
 have died long afore she did if I knew I was 
 checked plumb through to perdition. There d 
 be some company where I was going, anyhow. 
 
 The next morning after ballasting up with the
 
 THE COUNT AND THE MANAGER 31 
 
 truck we d bought at the store the feller most 
 keeled over when he found we was going to pay 
 cash for it we went out on the piazza again, 
 and looked at the breakers and the pine trees 
 and the sand, and held our hats on with both 
 hands. 
 
 " Jonadab," says I, "what ll you take for your 
 heirloom ?" 
 
 "Well," he says, "Barzilla, the way I feel now, 
 I think I d take a return ticket to Orham and be 
 afraid of being took up for swindling at that." 
 
 Neither of us says nothing more for a spell, 
 and, first thing you know, we heard a carriage 
 rattling somewhere up the road. I was ship 
 wrecked once and spent two days in a boat look 
 ing for a sail. When I heard that rattling I felt 
 just the way I done when I sighted the ship that 
 picked us up. 
 
 "Judas!" says Jonadab, "there s somebody 
 coming!" 
 
 We jumped out of our chairs and put for the 
 corner of the house. There was somebody com 
 ing a feller in a buggy, and he hitched his horse 
 to the front fence and come whistling up the 
 walk. 
 
 He was a tall chap, with a smooth face, kind 
 of sharp and knowing, and with a stiff hat set 
 just a little on one side. His clothes was new
 
 32 THE " OLD HOME HOUSE " 
 
 and about a week ahead of up-to-date, his shoes 
 shined till they lit up the lower half of his legs, 
 and his pants was creased so s you could mow 
 with em. Cool and slick! Say! in the middle 
 of that deadliness and compared to Jonadab 
 and me, he looked like a bird of Paradise in 
 a coop of moulting pullets. 
 
 "Cap n Wixon ?" he says to me, sticking out 
 a gloved flipper. 
 
 "Not guilty," says I. "There s the skipper. 
 My name s Wingate." 
 
 "Glad to have the pleasure, Mr. Wingate," 
 he says. "Cap n Wixon, yours truly." 
 
 We shook hands, and he took each of us by 
 the arm and piloted us back to the piazza, like 
 a tug with a couple of coal barges. He pulled 
 up a chair, crossed his legs on the rail, reached 
 into the for ard hatch of his coat and brought 
 out a cigar case. 
 
 "Smoke up," he says. We done it I holding 
 my hat to shut ofF the wind, while Jonadab used 
 up two cards of matches getting the first light. 
 When we got the cigars to going finally, the feller 
 says: 
 
 " My name s Brown Peter T. Brown. I read 
 about your falling heir to this estate, Cap n Wixon, 
 in a New Bedford paper. I happened to be in 
 New Bedford then, representing the John B.
 
 THE COUNT AND THE MANAGER 33 
 
 Wilkins Unparalleled All Star Uncle Tom s 
 Cabin and Ten Nights in a Bar-room Company. 
 It isn t my reg lar line, the show bus ness, but it 
 produced the necessary ham and* every day 
 and the excelsior sleep inviter every night, so 
 but never mind that. Soon as I read the paper 
 I came right down to look at the property. Hav 
 ing rubbered, back I go to Orham to see you. 
 Your handsome and talented daughter says you 
 are over here. That ll be about all here I am. 
 Now, then, listen to this." 
 
 He went under his hatches again, rousted out 
 a sheet of paper, unfolded it and read something 
 like this I know it by heart: 
 
 "The great sea leaps and splashes before you 
 as it leaped and splashed in the old boyhood days. 
 The sea wind sings to you as it sang of old. The 
 old dreams come back to you, the dreams you 
 dreamed as you slumbered upon the cornhusk 
 mattress in the clean, sweet little chamber of the 
 old home. Forgotten are the cares of busi 
 ness, the scramble for money, the ruthless hunt 
 for fame. Here are perfect rest and perfect 
 peace." 
 
 "Now what place would you say I was describ 
 ing ? " says the feller. 
 
 " Heaven," says Jonadab, looking up, reverent 
 like.
 
 34 THE " OLD HOME HOUSE " 
 
 You never see a body more disgusted than 
 Brown. 
 
 "Get out!" he snaps. "Do I look like the 
 advance agent of Glory ? Listen to this one." 
 
 He unfurls another sheet of paper, and goes 
 off on a tack about like this: 
 
 "The old home! You who sit in your luxuri 
 ous apartments, attended by your liveried ser 
 vants, eating the costly dishes that bring you 
 dyspepsia and kindred evils, what would you 
 give to go back once more to the simple, cleanly 
 living of the old house in the country ? The old 
 home, where the nights were cool and refresh 
 ing, the sleep deep and sound; where the huckle 
 berry pies that mother fashioned were swimming 
 in fragrant juice, where the shells of the clams 
 for the chowder were snow white and the chow 
 der itself a triumph; where there were no voices 
 but those of the wind and sea; no " 
 
 "Don t!" busts out Jonadab. "Don t! I can t 
 stand it!" 
 
 He was mopping his eyes with his red ban- 
 danner. I was consider ble shook up myself. 
 The dear land knows we was more used to huckle 
 berry pies and clam chowder than we was to 
 liveried servants and costly dishes, but there was 
 something in the way that feller read off that 
 slush that just worked the pump handle. A hog
 
 THE COUNT AND THE M4N4GER 35 
 
 would have cried; I know 7 couldn t help it. 
 
 As for Peter T. Brown, he fairly crowed. 
 
 "It gets you!" he says. "I knew it would. 
 And it ll get a heap of others, too. Well, 
 we can t send em back to the old home, 
 but we can trot the old home to them, or a 
 mighty good imitation of it. Here it is; right 
 here!" 
 
 And he waves his hand up toward Aunt So- 
 phrony s cast-off palace. 
 
 Cap n Jonadab set up straight and sputtered 
 like a firecracker. A man hates to be fooled. 
 
 "Old home!" he snorts. "Old county jail, 
 you mean!" 
 
 And then that Brown feller took his feet down 
 off the rail, hitched his chair right in front of 
 Jonadab and me and commenced to talk. And 
 how he did talk! Say, he could talk a Hyannis 
 fisherman into a missionary. I wish I could 
 remember all he said; twould make a book as 
 big as a dictionary, but twould be worth the 
 trouble of writing it down. Fore he got through 
 he talked a thousand dollars out of Cap n Jona 
 dab, and it takes a pretty hefty lecture to squeeze 
 a quarter out of him. To make a long yarn 
 short, this was his plan: 
 
 He proposed to turn Aunt Sophrony s wind 
 plantation into a hotel for summer boarders.
 
 36 THE " OLD HOME HOUSE " 
 
 And it wan t going to be any worn-out, regula 
 tion kind of a summer hotel neither. 
 
 "Confound it, man!" he says, "they re sick 
 of hot and cold water, elevators, bell wires with 
 a nigger on the end, and all that. There s a 
 raft of old codgers that call themselves self- 
 made men* meanin that the Creator won t 
 own em, and they take the responsibility them 
 selves that are always wishing they could go 
 somewheres like the shacks where they lived 
 when they were kids. They re always talking 
 about it, and wishing they could go to the old 
 home and rest. Rest! Why, say, there s as 
 much rest to this place as there is sand, and there s 
 enough of that to scour all the knives in creation." 
 
 "But twill cost so like the dickens to furnish 
 it," I says. 
 
 "Furnish it!" says he. "Why, that s just it! 
 It won t cost nothing to furnish it nothing to 
 speak of. I went through the house day before 
 yesterday crawled in the kitchen window oh! 
 it s all right, you can count the spoons and 
 there s eight of those bedrooms furnished just 
 right, corded bedsteads, painted bureaus with 
 glass knobs, God Bless Our Home and Uncle 
 Jeremiah s coffin plate on the wall, rag mats on 
 the floor, and all the rest. All she needs is a 
 little more of the same stuff, that I can buy round
 
 THE COUNT AND THE MANAGER 37 
 
 here for n^xt ..o nothing I used to buy for an 
 auction room and a little paint and fixings, and 
 there she : s. All I want from you folks is a little 
 money -I ll chuck in two hundred and fifty my 
 self and you two can be proprietors and treas 
 urers if you want to. But active manager and 
 publicity man that s yours cheerily, Peter Theo- 
 dosius Brown!" And he slapped his plaid vest. 
 
 Well, he talked all the forenoon and all the 
 way to Orham on the train and most of that 
 night. And when he heaved anchor, Jonadab 
 had agreed to put up a thousand and I was in 
 for five hundred and Peter contributed two hun 
 dred and fifty and experience and nerve. And 
 the "Old Home House" was off the ways. 
 
 And by the first of May twas open and ready 
 for business, too. You never see such a driver 
 as that feller Brown was. He had a new wide 
 piazza built all round the main buildings, painted 
 everything up fine, hired the three best women 
 cooks in Wellmouth and there s some good 
 cooks on Cape Cod, too and a half dozen cham 
 ber girls and waiters. He had some trouble 
 getting corded beds and old bureaus for the empty 
 rooms, but he got em finally. He bought the 
 last bed of Beriah Burgess, up at East Harniss, 
 and had quite a dicker getting it. 
 
 "He thought he ought to get five dollars for
 
 38 THE " OLD HOME HOUSE " 
 
 it," says Brown, telling Jonadab ind me about 
 it. "Said he hated to part with it because his 
 grandmother died in it. I told him I cculdn t see 
 any good reason why I should pay more for a bed 
 just because it had killed his grandmothe r , so 
 we split up and called it three dollars. Twas 
 too much money, but we had to have it." 
 
 And the advertisements! They was sent every- 
 wheres. Lots of em was what Peter called 
 "reading notices," and them he mostly got for 
 nothing, for he could talk an editor foolish same 
 as he could anybody else. By the middle of 
 April most of our money was gone, but every 
 room in the house was let and we had applica 
 tions coming by the pailful. 
 
 And the folks that come had money, too they 
 had to have to pay Brown s rates. I always felt 
 like a robber or a Standard Oil director every 
 time I looked at the books. The most of em 
 fcras rich folks self-made men, just like Peter 
 prophesied and they brought their wives and 
 daughters and slept on cornhusks and eat chow 
 der and said twas great and just like old times. 
 And they got the rest we advertised; we didn t 
 cheat em on rest. By ten o clock pretty nigh all 
 hands was abed, and twas so still all you could hear 
 fcras the breakers or the wind, or p raps a groan 
 coming from a window where some boarder had
 
 THE COUNT AND THE MANAGER 39 
 
 turned over in his sleep and a corncob in the mat 
 tress had raked him crossways. 
 
 There was one old chap that we ll call Dilla- 
 way Ebenezer Dillaway. That wan t his name; 
 his real one s too well known to tell. He runs 
 the "Dillaway Combination Stores" that are 
 all over the country. In them stores you can 
 buy anything and buy it cheap cheapness is 
 Ebenezer s stronghold and job lots is his sheet 
 anchor. He ll sell you a mowing machine and 
 the grass seed to grow the hay to cut with it. 
 He ll sell you a suit of clothes for two dollars 
 and a quarter, and for ten cents more he ll sell 
 you glue enough to stick it together again after 
 you ve worn it out in the rain. He ll sell you 
 anything, and he s got cash enough to sink a 
 ship. 
 
 He come to the "Old Home House" with his 
 daughter, and he took to the place right away. 
 Said twas for all the world like where he used 
 to live when he was a boy. He liked the grub 
 and he liked the cornhusks and he liked Brown. 
 Brown had a way of stealing a thing and yet 
 paying enough for it to square the law that hit 
 Ebenezer where he lived. 
 
 His daughter liked Brown, too, and twas easy 
 enough to see that Brown liked her. She was 
 a mighty pretty girl, the kind Peter called a
 
 40 THE " OLD HOME HOUSE " 
 
 "queen," and the active manager took to her 
 like a cat to a fish. They was together more n 
 half the time, gitting up sailing parties, or play 
 ing croquet, or setting up on the "Lover s Nest," 
 which was a kind of slab summer-house Brown 
 had rigged up on the bluff where Aunt Sophrony s 
 pig-pens used to be in the old days. 
 
 Me and Jonadab see how things was going, 
 and we d look at one another and wink and shake 
 our heads when the pair d go by together. But 
 all that was afore the count come aboard. 
 
 We got our first letter from the count about 
 the third of June. The writing was all over 
 the plate like a biled dinner, and the English 
 looked like it had been shook up in a bag, but 
 it was signed with a nine fathom, toggle-jinted 
 name that would give a pollparrot the lockjaw, 
 and had the word " Count" on the bow of it. 
 
 You never see a feller happier than Peter T. 
 Brown. 
 
 " Can he have rooms ? " says Peter. " Can 
 he ? Well, I should rise to elocute ! He can 
 have the best there is if yours truly has to bunk 
 in the coop with the gladsome Plymouth Rock. 
 That s what! He says he s a count and he ll 
 be advertised as a count from this place to where 
 rolls the Oregon." 
 
 And he was, too, The papers was full of how
 
 THE COUNT AND THE MANAGER 41 
 
 Count What s-his-Name was hanging out at the 
 "Old Home House," and we got more letters 
 from rich old women and pork-pickling money 
 bags than you could shake a stick at. If you 
 want to catch the free and equal nabob of a glori 
 ous republic, bait up with a little nobility and 
 you ll have your salt wet in no time. We had 
 to rig up rooms in the carriage house, and me and 
 Jonadab slept in the haymow. 
 
 The count himself hove in sight on June fif 
 teenth. He was a little, smoked Italian man with 
 a pair of legs that would have been carried away 
 in a gale, and a black mustache with waxed ends 
 that you d think would punch holes in the pillow 
 case. His talk was like his writing, only worse, 
 but from the time his big trunk with the foreign 
 labels was carried upstairs, he was skipper and 
 all hands of the " Old Home House." 
 
 And the funny part of it was that old man 
 Dillaway was as much gone on him as the rest. 
 For a self-made American article he was the 
 worst gone on this machine-made importation 
 that ever you see. I s pose when you ve got more 
 money than you can spend for straight goods 
 you nat rally go in for buying curiosities; I 
 can t see no other reason. 
 
 Anyway, from the minute the count come over 
 the side it was " Good-by, Peter." The foreigner
 
 42 THE " OLD HOME HOUSE " 
 
 was first oar with the old man and general con 
 sort for the daughter. Whenever there was a 
 sailing trip on or a spell of roosting in the Lover s 
 Nest, Ebenezer would see that the count looked 
 out for the "queen," while Brown stayed on 
 the piazza and talked bargains with papa. It 
 worried Peter you could see that. He d set in 
 the barn with Jonadab and me, thinking, think 
 ing, and all at once he d bust out: 
 
 "Bless that Dago s heart! I haven t chummed 
 in with the degenerate aristocracy much in my 
 time, but somewhere or other I ve seen that chap 
 before. Now where where where ? " 
 
 For the first two weeks the count paid his board 
 like a major; then he let it slide. Jonadab 
 and me was a little worried, but he was adver 
 tising us like fun, his photographs snap shots 
 by Peter was getting into the papers, so we 
 judged he was a good investment. But Peter 
 got bluer and bluer. 
 
 One night we was in the setting room me and 
 Jonadab and the count and Ebenezer. The 
 "queen" and the rest of the boarders was abed. 
 
 The count was spinning a pigeon English 
 yarn of how he d fought a duel with rapiers. 
 When he d finished, old Dillaway pounded his 
 knee and sung out: 
 
 "That s bus ness! That s the way to fix em!
 
 THE COUNT AND THE MANAGER 43 
 
 No lawsuits, no argument, no delays. Just take 
 em out and punch holes in em. Did you hear 
 that, Brown ? " 
 
 "Yes, I heard it," says Peter, kind of absent- 
 minded like. " Fighting with razors, wan t it ? " 
 
 Now there wan t nothing to that twas just 
 some of Brown s sarcastic spite getting the best 
 of him but I give you my word that the count 
 turned yellow under his brown skin, kind of 
 like mud rising from the bottom of a pond. 
 
 "What-a you say? " he says, bending for ards. 
 
 "Mr. Brown was mistaken, that s all," says 
 Dillaway; "he meant rapiers." 
 
 " But why-a razors why-a razors ? " says the 
 count. 
 
 Now I was watching Brown s face, and all at 
 once I see it light up like you d turned a search 
 light on it. He settled back in his chair and 
 fetched a long breath as if he was satisfied. Then 
 he grinned and begged pardon and talked a blue 
 streak for the rest of the evening. 
 
 Next day he was the happiest thing in sight, 
 and when Miss Dillaway and the count went 
 Lover s Nesting he didn t seem to care a bit. 
 All of a sudden he told Jonadab and me that he 
 was going up to Boston that evening on bus ness 
 and wouldn t be back for a day or so. He wouldn t 
 tell what the bus ness was, either, but just whis-
 
 44 THE " OLD HOME HOUSE " 
 
 tied and laughed and sung, "Good-by, Susannah; 
 don t you grieve for me," till train time. 
 
 He was back again three nights afterward, 
 and he come right out to the barn without going 
 nigh the house. He had another feller with him, 
 a kind of shabby dressed Italian man with curly 
 hair. 
 
 "Fellers," he says to me and Jonadab, "this 
 is my friend, Mr. Macaroni; he s going to engi 
 neer the barber shop for a while." 
 
 Well, we d just let our other barber go, so we 
 didn t think anything of this, but when he said 
 that his friend Spaghetti was going to stay in the 
 barn for a day or so, and that we needn t mention 
 that he was there, we thought that was funny. 
 
 But Peter done a lot of funny things the next 
 day. One of em was to set a feller painting a 
 side of the house by the count s window, that 
 didn t need painting at all. And when the feller 
 quit for the night, Brown told him to leave the 
 ladder where twas. 
 
 That evening the same crowd was together in 
 the setting room. Peter was as lively as a cricket, 
 talking, talking, all the time. By and by he says: 
 
 "Oh, say, I want you to see the new barber. 
 He can shave anything from a note to a porkjc- 
 pine. Come in here, Chianti!" he says, opening 
 the door and calling out. " I want you."
 
 THE COUNT AND THE M4N4GER 45 
 
 And in come the new Italian man, smiling and 
 bowing and looking "meek and lowly, sick and 
 sore," as the song says. 
 
 Well, we laughed at Brown s talk and asked 
 the Italian all kinds of fool questions and nobody 
 noticed that the count wan t saying nothing. 
 Pretty soon he gets up and says he guesses he ll 
 go to his room, cause he feels sort of sick. 
 
 And I tell you he looked sick. He was yellower 
 than he was the other night, and he walked like 
 he hadn t got his sea legs on. Old Dillaway was 
 terrible sorry and kept asking if there wan t 
 something he could do, but the count put him 
 off and went out. 
 
 "Now that s too bad!" says Brown. "Spag 
 hetti, you needn t wait any longer." 
 
 So the other Italian went out, too. 
 
 And then Peter T. Brown turned loose and 
 talked the way he done when me and Jonadab 
 first met him. He just spread himself. He told 
 of this bargain that he d made and that sharp 
 trade he had turned, while we set there and lis 
 tened and laughed like a parsel of fools. And 
 every time that Ebenezer d get up to go to bed, 
 Peter d trot out a new yarn and he d have to stop 
 to listen to that. And it got to be eleven o clock 
 and then twelve and then one. 
 
 It was just about quarter past one and we was
 
 46 THE "OLD HOME HOUSE " 
 
 laughing our heads off at one of Brown s jokes, 
 when out under the back window there was a 
 jingle and a thump and a kind of groaning and 
 wiggling noise. 
 
 "What on earth is that?" says Dillaway. 
 
 "I shouldn t be surprised," says Peter, cool as 
 a mack rel on ice, "if that was his royal highness, 
 the count." 
 
 He took up the lamp and we all hurried out 
 doors and round the corner. And there, sure 
 enough, was the count, sprawling on the ground 
 with his leather satchel alongside of him, and his 
 foot fast in a big steel trap that was hitched by 
 a chain to the lower round of the ladder. He 
 rared up on his hands when he see us and started 
 to say something about an outrage. 
 
 "Oh, that s all right, your majesty," says 
 Brown. "Hi, Chianti, come here a minute! 
 Here s your old college chum, the count, been 
 and put his foot in it." 
 
 When the new barber showed up the count 
 never made another move, just wilted like a morn 
 ing-glory after sunrise. But you never see a 
 worse upset man than Ebenezer Dillaway. 
 
 " But what does this mean ? " says he, kind of 
 wild like. "Why don t you take that thing off 
 his foot ? " 
 
 "Oh," says Peter, "he s been elongating my
 
 THE COUNT AND THE MANAGER 47 
 
 pedal extremity for the last month or so; I don t 
 see why I should kick if he pulls his own for a 
 while. You see," he says, "it s this way: 
 
 "Ever since his grace condescended to lend 
 the glory of his countenance to this humble roof," 
 
 ^ ,- 
 
 ^ 
 
 HE RAREO UP on HIS HANDS. 
 
 he says, "it s stuck in my mind that I d seen the 
 said countenance somewhere before. The other 
 night when our conversation was trifling with the 
 razor subject and the Grand Lama here" that s 
 the name he called the count "was throwing in
 
 48 THE "OLD HOME HOUSE" 
 
 details about his carving his friends, it flashed 
 across me where I d seen it. About a couple of 
 years ago I was selling the guileless rural drug 
 gists contiguous to Scranton, Pennsylvania, the 
 tasty and happy combination called Dr. Bulger s 
 Electric Liver Cure, the same being a sort of 
 electric light for shady livers, so to speak. I 
 made my headquarters at Scranton, and, while 
 there, my hair was shortened and my chin smoothed 
 in a neat but gaudy barber shop, presided over 
 by my friend Spaghetti here, and my equally 
 valued friend the count." 
 
 "So," says Peter, smiling and cool as ever, 
 "when it all came back to me, as the song says, 
 I journeyed to Scranton accompanied by a photo 
 graph of his lordship. I was lucky enough to 
 find Macaroni in the same old shop. He knew 
 the count s classic profile at once. It seems his 
 majesty had hit up the lottery a short time pre 
 vious for a few hundred and had given up bar- 
 bering. I suppose he d read in the papers that 
 the imitation count line was stylish and profitable 
 and so he tried it on. It may be," says Brown, 
 offhand, "that he thought he might marry some 
 rich girl. There s some fool fathers, judging 
 by the papers, that are willing to sell their daugh 
 ters for the proper kind of tag on a package 
 like him."
 
 THE COUNT AND THE MANAGER 49 
 
 Old man Dillaway kind of made a face, as if 
 he d ate something that tasted bad, but he didn t 
 speak. 
 
 "And so," says Peter, "Spaghetti and I came 
 to the Old Home together, he to shave for twelve 
 per, and I to set traps, etcetera. That s a good 
 trap," he says, nodding, "I bought it in Boston. 
 I had the teeth filed down, but the man that sold 
 it said twould hold a horse. I left the ladder 
 by his grace s window, thinking he might find it 
 handy after he d seen his friend of other days, 
 particularly as the back door was locked. 
 
 "And now," goes on Brown, short and sharp, 
 "let s talk business. Count," he says, "you 
 are set back on the books about sixty odd for old 
 home comforts. We ll cut off half of that and 
 charge it to advertising. You draw well, as the 
 man said about the pipe. But the other thirty 
 you ll have to work out. You used to shave like 
 a bird. I ll give you twelve dollars a week to 
 chip in with Macaroni here and barber the 
 boarders." 
 
 But Dillaway looked anxious. 
 
 "Look here, Brown," he says, "I wouldn t do 
 that. I ll pay his board bill and his traveling 
 expenses if he clears out this minute. It seems 
 tough to set him shaving after he s been such 
 a big g un around here."
 
 50 THE " OLD HOME HOUSE " 
 
 I could see right off that the arrangement 
 suited Brown first rate and was exactly what 
 he d been working for, but he pretended not to 
 care much for it. 
 
 "Oh! I don t know," he says. "I d rather 
 be a sterling barber than a plated count. But 
 anything to oblige you, Mr. Dillaway." 
 
 So the next day there was a nobleman missing 
 at the "Old Home House," and all we had to 
 remember him by was a trunk full of bricks. 
 And Peter T. Brown and the "queen" was roost 
 ing in the Lover s Nest; and the new Italian 
 was busy in the barber shop. He could shave, 
 too. He shaved me without a pull, and my face 
 ain t no plush sofy, neither. 
 
 And before the season was over the engage 
 ment was announced. Old Dillaway took it 
 pretty well, considering. He liked Peter, and 
 his having no money to speak of didn t count, 
 because Ebenezer had enough for all hands. 
 The old man said he d been hoping for a son- 
 in-law sharp enough to run the " Consolidated 
 Stores" after he was gone, and it looked, he said* 
 as if he d found him.
 
 THE SOUTH SHORE WEATHER BUREAU
 
 THE SOUTH SHORE WEATHER BUREAU 
 
 "But," says Cap n Jonadab and me together* 
 jest as if we was "reading in concert" same as the 
 youngsters do in school, "but," we says, "will it 
 work ? Will anybody pay for it ? " 
 
 "Work?" says Peter T., with his fingers in> 
 the arm-holes of the double-breasted danger- 
 signal that he called a vest, and with his cigar 
 tilted up till you d think twould set his hat-brim 
 afire. "Work?" says he. "Well, maybe 
 twouldn t work if the ordinary brand of canned 
 lobster was running it, but with me to jerk the 
 lever and sound the loud timbrel why, say! it s 
 like stealing money from a blind cripple that s 
 hard of hearing." 
 
 "Yes, I know," says Cap n Jonadab. "Bug 
 this ain t like starting the Old Home House. 
 That was opening up a brand-new kind of hotel 
 that nobody ever heard of before. This is pedi- 
 dling weather pr ^phecies when there s the Gov - 
 ment Weather Bureau running opposition not 
 to mention th^ Old Farmer s Almanac, and I 
 don t know how many more," he says. 
 
 Aft
 
 54 THE " OLD HOME HOUSE " 
 
 Brown took his patent leathers down off tK 
 rail of the piazza, give the ashes of his cigar a flip 
 he knocked em into my hat that was on the 
 floor side of his chair, but he was toe excited to 
 mind and he say : 
 
 "Confound it, man!" he says. "You can 
 throw more cold water than a fire-engine. Old 
 Farmer s Almanac I This isn t any About this 
 time look out for snow* business. And it ain t 
 any Washington cold slaw like Weather for New 
 England and Rocky Mountains, Tuesday to Fri 
 day; cold to warm; well done on the edges with 
 a rare streak in the middle, preceded or followed 
 by rain, snow, or clearing. Wind, north to south, 
 varying east and west/ No siree! this is to-day / 
 weather for Cape Cod, served right, off the grid 
 dle on a hot plate, and cooked by the chef a that. 
 You don t realize what a regular dime-museurw 
 wonder that feller is," he says. 
 
 Well, I suppcse we didn t. You see, JonadaU 
 and me, like the rest of the folks around Well- 
 mouth, had come to take Beriah Crocker and his 
 weather notions as the regular thing, like baked 
 beans on a Saturday night. Beriah, he 
 
 But there! I ve been sailing siern first. Let s 
 get her headed right, if we ever expect to turn 
 the first mark. You see, twas this way: 
 
 Twas in the early part of May follering the year
 
 THE FEATHER BUREAU 55 
 
 that the "Old Home House" was opened. We d 
 had the place all painted up, decks holy-stoned, 
 bunks overhauled, and one thing or nother, 
 and the "Old Home" was all taut and shipshape, 
 ready for the crew boarders, I mean. Passages 
 was booked all through the summer and it looked 
 as if our second season would be better n our 
 first. 
 
 Then the Dillaway girl she was christened 
 Lobelia, like her mother, but she d painted it 
 out and cruised under the name of Belle since 
 the family got rich she thought twould be nice 
 to have what she called a "spring house-party * 
 for her particular friends fore the regular season 
 opened. So Peter he being engaged at the time 
 and consequent in that condition where he d 
 have put on horns and "mooed" if she d give 
 the order he thought twould be nice, too, and 
 for a week it was "all hands on deck!" getting 
 ready for the "house-party." 
 
 Two days afore the thing was to go off the ways 
 Brown gets a letter from Belle, and in it says 
 she s invited a whole lot of folks from Chicago 
 and New York and Boston and the land knows 
 where, and that they ve never been to the Cape 
 and she wants to show em what a "quaint" 
 place it is. "Can t you get," says she, "two or 
 three delightful, queer, old longshore characters
 
 56 THE " OLD HOME HOUSE " 
 
 to be at work round the hotel ? It ll give such 
 a touch of local color," she says. 
 
 So out comes Peter with the letter. 
 
 "Barzilla," he says to me, "I want some char 
 acters. Know anybody that s a character ? " 
 
 "Well," says I, "there s Nate Slocum over 
 to Orham. He d steal anything that wa n t 
 spiked down. He s about the toughest char 
 acter I can think of, offhand, this way." 
 
 "Oh, thunder!" says Brown. "I don t want 
 a crook; that wouldn t be any novelty to this 
 crowd," he says. "What I m after is an odd 
 stick; a feller with pigeons in his loft. Not a 
 lunatic, but jest a queer genius little queerer 
 than you and the Cap n here." 
 
 After a while we got his drift, and I happened 
 to think of Beriah and his chum, Eben Cobb. 
 They lived in a little shanty over to Skakit P int 
 and got their living lobstering, and so on. Both 
 of em had saved a few thousand dollars, but 
 you couldn t get a cent of it without giving em 
 ether, and they d rather live like Portugees than 
 white men any day, unless they was paid to change. 
 Beriah s pet idee was foretelling what the weather 
 was going to be. And he could do it, too, better n 
 anybody I ever see. He d smell a storm further n 
 a cat can smell fish, and he hardly ever made a 
 mistake. Prided himself on it, you understand,
 
 THE WEATHER BUREAU 57 
 
 like a boy does on his first long pants. His 
 prophecies was his idols, so s to speak, and you 
 couldn t have hired him to foretell what he knew 
 was wrong, not for no money. 
 
 Peter said Beriah and Eben was just the sort 
 of "cards" he was looking for and drove right 
 over to see em. He hooked em, too. I knew 
 he would; he could talk a Come-Outer into be 
 lieving that a Unitarian wasn t booked for Tophet, 
 if he set out to. 
 
 So the special train from Boston brought the 
 "house -party" down, and our two-seated buggy 
 brought Beriah and Eben over. They didn t 
 have anything to do but to look "picturesque" 
 and say "I snum!" and "I swan to man!" and 
 they could do that to the skipper s taste. The 
 city folks thought they was "just too dear and odd 
 for anything," and made em bigger fools than 
 ever, which wa n t necessary. 
 
 The second day of the "party" was to be a 
 sailing trip clear down to the life-saving station, 
 on Setuckit Beach. It certainly looked as if 
 twas going to storm, and the Gov ment predic 
 tions said it >vas, but Beriah said "No," and 
 stuck out that twould clear up by and by. Peter 
 wanted to know what I thought about their start 
 ing, and I told him that twas my experience 
 that where weather was concerned Beriah was
 
 58 THE " OLD HOME HOUSE " 
 
 a good, safe anchorage. So they sailed away, 
 and, sure enough, it cleared up fine. And the 
 next day the Gov ment fellers said "clear" and 
 Beriah said "rain," and she poured a flood. 
 And, after three or four of such experiences, 
 Beriah was all hunky with the "house-party," 
 and they looked at him as a sort of wonderful 
 freak, like a two-headed calf or the " snake child," 
 or some such outrage. 
 
 So, when the party was over, round comes 
 Peter, busting with a new notion. What he 
 cal lated to do was to start a weather prophesying 
 bureau all on his own hook, with Beriah for 
 prophet, and him for manager and general adver 
 tiser, and Jonadab and me to help put up the 
 money to get her going. He argued that summer 
 folks from Scituate to Provincetown, on both 
 sides of the Cape, would pay good prices for the 
 real thing in weather predictions. The Gov ment 
 bureau, so he said, covered too much ground, but 
 Beriah was local and hit her right on the head. 
 His idee was to send Beriah s predictions by 
 telegraph to agents in every Cape town each 
 morning, and the agents was to hand em to sus- 
 scribers. First week a free trial; after that, so 
 much per prophecy. 
 
 And it worked oh, land, yes! it worked. 
 Peter s letters and circulars would satisfy any-
 
 THE FEATHER BUREAU 59 
 
 body that black was white, and the free trial was 
 a sure bait. I don t know why tis, but if you 
 offered the smallpox free, there d be a barrel of 
 victims waiting in line to come down with it. 
 Brown rigged up a little shanty on the bluff in 
 front of the "Old Home," and filled it full of 
 barometers and thermometers and chronometers 
 and charts, and put Beriah and Eben inside to 
 look wise and make b lieve do something. That 
 was the office of "The South Shore Weather 
 Bureau," and twas sort of sacred and holy, and 
 twould kill you to see the boarders tip-toeing 
 up and peeking in the winder to watch them two 
 old coots squinting through a telescope at the 
 sky or scribbling rubbish on paper. And Beriah 
 was right most every time. I don t know why 
 my notion is that he was born that way, same as 
 some folks are born lightning calculators but 
 I ll never forget the first time Peter asked him 
 how he done it. 
 
 "Wall," drawls Beriah, "now to-day looks 
 fine and clear, don t it ? But last night my left 
 elbow had rheumatiz in it, and this morning my 
 bones ache, and my right toe-j int is sore, so I 
 know we ll have an easterly wind and rain this 
 evening. If it had been my left toe now, why " 
 
 Peter held up both hands. 
 
 "That ll do," he says. "I ain t asking any
 
 fo THE " OLD HOME HOUSE " 
 
 more questioiis. Only, if the boarders or outsiders 
 ask you how you work it, you cut out the bones 
 and toe business and talk science and tempera 
 ture to beat the cars. Understand, do you ? It s 
 science or no eight-fifty in the pay envelope. Left 
 toe-joint!" And he goes off grinning. 
 
 We had to have Eben, though he wasn t wuth 
 a green hand s wages as a prophet. But him 
 and Beriah stuck by each other like two flies in 
 the glue-pot, and you couldn t hire one without 
 t other. Peter said twas all right two prophets 
 looked better n one, anyhow; and, as subscrip 
 tions kept up pretty well, and the Bureau paid a 
 fair profit, Jonadab and me didn t kick. 
 
 In July, Mrs. Freeman she had charge of 
 the upper decks in the "Old Home" and was 
 rated head chambermaid up and quit, and 
 being as we couldn t get another capable Cape 
 Codder just then, Peter fetched down a woman 
 from New York; one that a friend of old Dilla- 
 way s recommended. She was able seaman so 
 far s the work was concerned, but she d been 
 good-looking once and couldn t forget it, and 
 she was one of them clippers that ain t happy 
 unless they ve got a man in tow. You know the 
 kind: pretty nigh old enough to be a coal-barge, 
 but all rigged up with bunting and frills like a 
 yacht.
 
 THE WEATHER BUREAU 61 
 
 Her name was Kelly, Emma Kelly, and she 
 was a widow whether from choice or act of 
 Providence I don t know. The other women 
 servants was all down on her, of course, cause 
 she had city ways and a style of wearing her togs 
 that made their Sunday gowns and bonnets look 
 like distress signals. But they couldn t deny 
 that she was a driver so far s her work was con 
 cerned. She d whoop through the hotel like a 
 no theaster anc* have everything done, and done 
 well, by two o clock in the afternoon. Then 
 she d be ready to dress up and go on parade to 
 astonish the natives. 
 
 Men except the boarders, of course was 
 scarce around Wellmouth Port. First the Kelly 
 lady begun to flag Cap n Jonadab and me, but 
 we sheered off and took to the offing. Jonadab, 
 being a widower, had had his experience, and I 
 never had the marrying disease and wasn t han 
 kering to catch it. So Emma had to look for 
 other victims, and the prophet-shop looked to 
 her like the most likely feeding-ground. 
 
 And, would you b lieve it, them two old critters, 
 Beriah and Eben, gobbled the bait like sculpins. 
 If she d been a woman like the kind they was 
 used to the Cape kind, I mean I don t s pose 
 they d have paid any attention to her; but she 
 was dicfrent from anything they d ever run up
 
 to THE " OLD HOME HOUSE 
 
 against, and the first thing you know, she had em 
 both poke-hooked. Twas all in fun on her 
 part first along, I cal Iate, but pretty soon some 
 idiot let out that both of em was wuth money, 
 and then the race was on in earnest. 
 
 She d drop in at the weather-factory long in 
 the afternoon and pretend to be terrible interested 
 in the goings on there. 
 
 "I don t see how you two gentlemen can tell 
 whether it s going to rain or not. I think you 
 are the most wonderful men! Do tell me, Mr. 
 Crocker, will it be good weather to-morrer ? I 
 wanted to take a little walk up to the village about 
 four o clock if it was." 
 
 And then Beriah d swell out like a puffing pig 
 and put on airs and look out of the winder, and 
 crow: 
 
 "Yes m, I jedge that we ll have a southerly 
 breeze in the morning with some fog, but nothing 
 to last, nothing to last. The afternoon, I cal Iate, 
 11 be fair. I I that is to say, I was figgering 
 on goin to the village myself to-morrer." > 
 
 Then Emma would pump up a blush, and 
 smile, and purr that she was so glad, cause then 
 she d have comp ny. And Eben would glower 
 at Beriah and Beriah d grin sort of superior-like, 
 and the mutual barometer, so s to speak, would 
 fall about a foot during the next hour. The
 
 THE WEATHER BUREAU 63 
 
 brotherly business between the two prophets was 
 coming to an end fast, and all on account of Mrs. 
 Kelly. 
 
 She played em even for almost a month; didn t 
 show no preference one way or the other. First 
 twas Eben that seemed to be eating up to wind- 
 ard, and then Beriah d catch a puff and gain for 
 a spell. Cap n Jonadab and me was uneasy, 
 for we was afraid the Weather Bureau would 
 suffer fore the thing was done with; but Peter 
 was away, and we didn t like to interfere till he 
 come home. 
 
 And then, all at once, Emma seemed to make 
 up her mind, and twas all Eben from that time 
 on. The fact is, the widder had learned, some 
 how or nother, that he had the most money of 
 the two. Beriah didn t give up; he stuck to 
 it like a good one, but he was falling behind and 
 he knew it. As for Eben, he couldn t help show 
 ing a little joyful pity, so s to speak, for his part 
 ner, and the atmosphere in that rain lab ratory 
 got so frigid that I didn t know but we d have 
 to put up a stove. The two wizards was hardly 
 on speaking terms. 
 
 The last of August come and the" Old Home 
 House" was going to close up on the day after 
 Labor Day. Peter was down again, and so was 
 Ebenezer and Belle, and there was to be high
 
 64 THE " OLD HOME HOUSE " 
 
 jinks to celebrate the season s wind-up. There 
 was to be a grand excursion and clambake at 
 Setuckit Beach and all hands was going four 
 catboats full. 
 
 Of course, the weather must be good or it s no 
 joy job taking females to Setuckit in a catboat. 
 The night before the big day, Peter came out to 
 the Weather Bureau and Jonadab and me dropped 
 in likewise. Beriah was there all alone; Eben 
 was out walking with Emma. 
 
 "Well, Jeremiah," says Brown, chipper as a 
 mack rel gull on a spar-buoy, "what s the out 
 look for to-morrer ? The Gov ment sharp says 
 there s a big storm on the way up from Florida. 
 Is he right, or only an also ran, as usual ? 
 
 "Wall," says Beriah, goin to the door, "I 
 don t know, Mr. Brown. It don t look just 
 right; I swan it don t! I can tell you better in 
 the morning. I hope twill be fair, too, cause 
 I was cal lating to get a day off and borrer your 
 horse and buggy and go over to the Ostable camp- 
 meeting. It s the big day over there," he says. 
 
 Now, I knew of course, that he meant he was 
 going to take the widder with him, but Peter 
 spoke up and says he: 
 
 "Sorry, Beriah, but you re too late. Eben 
 asked me for the horse and buggy this morning. 
 I told him he could have the open buggy; the
 
 THE WEATHER BUREAU 65 
 
 other one s being repaired, and I wouldn t lend 
 the new surrey to the Grand Panjandrum himself. 
 Eben s going to take the fair Emma for a ride," 
 he says. "Beriah, I m afraid our beloved Cobb 
 is, in the innocence of his youth, being roped in 
 by the sophisticated damsel in the shoo-fly hat," 
 says he. 
 
 Me and Jonadab hadn t had time to tell Peter 
 how matters stood betwixt the prophets, or most 
 likely he wouldn t have said that. It hit Beriah 
 like a snowslide off a barn roof. I found out 
 afterwards that the widder had more n half 
 promised to go with him. He slumped down 
 in his chair as if his mainmast was carried away, 
 and he didn t even rise to blow for the rest of the 
 time we was in the shanty. Just set there, look 
 ing fishy-eyed at the floor. 
 
 Next morning I met Eben prancing ar*und in 
 his Sunday clothes and with a necktie on that 
 would make a rainbow look like a mourning 
 badge. 
 
 "Hello!" says I. "You seem to be pretty 
 chipper. You ain t going to start for that fifteen- 
 mile ride through the woods to Ostable, be you ? 
 Looks to me as if twas going to rain." 
 
 "The predictions for this day," says he, "is 
 cloudy in the forenoon, but clearing later on. 
 Wind, sou east, changing to south and sou west."
 
 66 THE " OLD HOME HOUSE " 
 
 " Did Beriah send that out ? " says I, looking 
 doubtful, for if ever it looked like dirty weather, 
 I thought it did right then. 
 
 "Me and Beriah sent it out," he says, jealous- 
 like. But I knew twas Beriah s forecast or he 
 wouldn t have been so sure of it. 
 
 Pretty soon out comes Peter, looking dubious 
 at the sky. 
 
 "If it was anybody else but Beriah," he says, 
 "I d say this mornings prophecy ought to be sent 
 to Puck. Where is the seventh son of the seventh 
 son the only original American seer ? " 
 
 He wasn t in the weather-shanty, and we finally 
 found him on one of the seats way up on the 
 edge of the bluff. He didn t look round when 
 we come up, but just stared at the water. 
 
 "Hey, Elijah!" says Brown. He was always 
 calling Beriah "Elijah" or "Isaiah" or "Jere 
 miah" or some other prophet name out of Scrip 
 ture. "Does this go?" And he held out the 
 telegraph-blank with the morning s prediction 
 on it. 
 
 Beriah looked around just for a second. He 
 looked to me sort of sick and pale that is, as 
 pale as his sun-burned rhinoceros hide would 
 ever turn. 
 
 "The forecast for to-day," says he, looking 
 at the water again, "is cloudy in the forenoon,
 
 THE WEATHER BUREAU 67 
 
 but clearing later on. Wind sou east, changing 
 to south and sou west." 
 
 "Right you are!" says Peter, joyful. "We 
 start for Setuckit, then. And here s where the 
 South Shore Weather Bureau hands another 
 swift jolt to your Uncle Sam/* 
 
 So, after breakfast, the catboats loaded up, the 
 girls giggling and screaming, and the men board 
 ers dressed in what they hoped was sea-togs. 
 They sailed away round the lighthouse and 
 headed up the shore, and the wind was sou east 
 sure and sartin, but the "clearing" part wasn t 
 in sight yet. 
 
 Beriah didn t watch em go. He stayed in the 
 shanty. But by and by, when Eben drove the 
 buggy out of the barn and Emma come skipping 
 down the piazza steps, I see him peeking out of 
 the little winder. 
 
 The Kelly critter had all sail sot and colors 
 flying. Her dress was some sort of mosquito 
 netting with wall-paper posies on it, and there was 
 more ribbons flapping than there is reef-p ints 
 on a mainsail. And her hat! Great guns. It 
 looked like one of them pictures you see in a 
 flower-seed catalogue. 
 
 "Oh!" she squeals, when she sees the buggy. 
 "Oh! Mr. Cobb. Ain t you afraid to go in 
 that open carriage ? It looks to me like rain."
 
 68 THE " OLD HOME HOUSE " 
 
 But Eben waved his flipper, scornful. "My 
 forecast this morning," says he, "is cloudy now, 
 but clearing by and by. You trust to me, Mis 
 Kelly. Weather s my business. * 
 
 "Of course I trust you, Mr. Cobb," she says, 
 "Of course I trust you, but I should hate to spile 
 my gown, that s all." 
 
 They drove out of the yard, fine as fiddlers, 
 and I watched em go. When I turned around, 
 there was Beriah watching em too, and he was 
 smiling for the first time that morning. But it 
 was one of them kind of smiles that makes you 
 wish he d cry. 
 
 At ha f-past ten it begun to sprinkle; at eleven 
 twas raining hard; at noon twas a pouring, 
 roaring, sou easter, and looked good for the next 
 twelve hours at least. 
 
 "Good Lord! Beriah," says Cap n Jonadab, 
 running into the Weather Bureau, "you ve missed 
 stays this time, for sure. Has your prophecy- 
 works got indigestion ? " he says. 
 
 But Beriah wasn t there. The shanty was 
 closed, and we found out afterwards that he 
 spent that whole day in the store down at the 
 Port. 
 
 By two o clock twas so bad that I put on my 
 ileskins and went over to Wellmouth and tele 
 phoned to the Setuckit Beach life-saving station
 
 THE WEATHER BUREAU 69 
 
 to find out if the clambakers had got there right 
 side up. They d got there; fact is, they was 
 in the station then, and the language Peter hove 
 through that telephone was enough to melt the 
 wires. Twas all in the shape of compliments 
 to the prophet, and I heard Central tell him she d 
 report it to the head office. Brown said twas 
 blowing so they d have to come back by the in 
 side channel, and that meant landing way up 
 Harniss way, and hiring teams to come to the 
 Port with from there. 
 
 Twas nearly eight when they drove into the 
 yard and come slopping up the steps. And such 
 a passel of drownded rats you never see. The 
 women-folks made for their rooms, but the men 
 hopped around the parlor, shedding puddles 
 with every hop, and hollering for us to trot out 
 the head of the Weather Bureau. 
 
 "Bring him to me," orders Peter, stopping to 
 pick his pants loose from his legs; "I yearn to 
 caress him." 
 
 And what old Dillaway said was worse n that. 
 
 But Beriah didn t come to be caressed. Twas 
 quarter past nine when we heard wheels in the 
 yard. 
 
 "By mighty!" yells Cap n Jonadab; "it s the 
 camp-meeting pilgrims. I forgot them. Here s 
 a show."
 
 ;o THE " OLD HOME HOUSE " 
 
 He jumped to open the door, but it opened 
 afore he got there and Beriah come in. He didn t 
 pay no attention to the welcome he got from the 
 gang, but just stood on the sill, pale, but grinning 
 the grin that a terrier dog has on just as you re 
 going to let the rat out of the trap. 
 
 Somebody outside says: "Whoa, consarn you!" 
 Then there was a thump and a sloshy stamping 
 on the steps, and in comes Eben and the widder. 
 
 I had one of them long-haired, foreign cats once 
 that a British skipper gave me. Twas a yeller 
 and black one and it fell overboard. When we 
 fished it out it looked just like the Kelly woman 
 done then. Everybody but Beriah just screeched 
 we couldn t help it. But the prophet dicln t 
 laugh; he only kept on grinning. 
 
 Emma looked once round the room, and her 
 eyes, as well as you could see em through the 
 snarl of dripping hair and hat-trimming, fairly 
 snapped. Then she went up the stairs three 
 steps at a time. 
 
 Eben didn t say a word. He just stood there and 
 leaked. Leaked and smiled. Yes, sir! his face, 
 over the mess that had been that rainbow necktie, 
 had the funniest look of idiotic joy on it that ever / 
 see. In a minute everybody else shut up. We 
 didn t know what to make of it. 
 
 Twas Beriah that spoke first.
 
 THE WEATHER BUREAU 71 
 
 "He! he! he!" he chuckled. "He! he! he! 
 Wasn t it kind of wet coming through the woods, 
 Mr. Cobb ? What does Mrs. Kelly think of the 
 day her beau picked out to go to camp-meeting 
 in?" 
 
 Then Eben came out of his trance. 
 
 IN COMES EBEN AND THE WIDDER. 
 
 "Beriah," says he, holding out a dripping flip 
 per, "shake!" 
 
 But Beriah didn t shake. Just stood still.
 
 72 THE " OLD HOME HOUSE " 
 
 "I ve got a s prise for you, shipmate," goes on 
 Eben. "Who did you say that lady was ? " 
 
 Beriah didn t answer. I begun to think that 
 some of the wet had soaked through the assis 
 tant prophet s skull and had give him water on 
 the brain. 
 
 "You called her Mis Kelly, didn t you?" 
 gurgled Eben. "Wall, that ain t her name. 
 Her and me stopped at the Baptist parsonage 
 over to East Harniss when we was on the way 
 home and got married. She s Mis Cobb now," 
 he says. 
 
 Well, the queerest part of it was that twas 
 the bad weather was really what brought things 
 to a head so sudden. Eben hadn t spunked up 
 anywhere nigh enough courage to propose, but 
 they stopped at Ostable so long, waiting for the 
 rain to let up, that twas after dark when they 
 was half way home. Then Emma oh, she was 
 a slick one! said that her reputation would be 
 ruined, out that way with a man that wa n t her 
 husband. If they was married now, she said 
 and even a dummy could take that hint. 
 
 I found Beriah at the weather-shanty about 
 an hour afterwards with his head on his arms. 
 He looked up when I come in. 
 
 "Mr. Wingate," he says, "I m a fool, but for 
 the land s sake don t think I m such a fool as not
 
 THE WEATHER BUREAU 73 
 
 to know that this here storm was bound to strike 
 to-day. I lied," he says; "I lied about the 
 weather for the first time in my life; lied right 
 up and down so as to get her mad with him. My 
 repertation s gone forever. There s a feller in 
 the Bible that sold his his birthday, I think 
 twas for a mess of porridge. I m him; only," 
 and he groaned awful, "they ve cheated me out 
 of the porridge." 
 
 But you ought to have read the letters Peter 
 got next day from subscribers that had trusted 
 to the prophecy and had gone on picnics and 
 such like. The South Shore Weather Bureau 
 went out of business right then.
 
 THE DOG STAR
 
 THE DOG STAR 
 
 It commenced the day after we took old man 
 J&tumpton out codfishing. Me and Cap n Jonadab 
 both told Peter T. Brown that cod wa n t 
 biting much at that season, but he said cod be 
 jiggered. 
 
 "What s troubling me just now is landing 
 suckers," he says. 
 
 So the four of us got into the Patience M. 
 she s Jonadab s catboat and sot sail for the 
 Crab Ledge. And we hadn t more n got our 
 lines over the side than we struck into a school 
 of dogfish. Now, if you know anything about 
 fishing you know that when the dogfish strike 
 on it s "good-by, cod!" So when Stumpton 
 hauled a big fat one over the rail I could tell 
 that Jonadab was ready to swear. But do you 
 think it disturbed your old friend, Peter Brown ? 
 No, sir! He never winked an eye. 
 
 "By Jove!" he sings out, staring at that dog 
 fish as if twas a gold dollar. "By Jove!" says 
 he, "that s the finest specimen of a Labrador 
 
 77
 
 ;8 THE " OLD HOME HOUSE " 
 
 mack rel ever I see. Bait up, Stump, and go at 
 em again." 
 
 So Stumpton, having lived in Montana evel 
 sence he was five years old, and not having sighted 
 salt water in all that time, he don t know but what 
 there is such critters as "Labrador mack rel/ 
 and he goes at em, hammer and tongs. When 
 we come ashore we had eighteen dogfish, four 
 sculpin and a skate, and Stumpton was the hap 
 piest loon in Ostable County. It was all we could 
 do to keep him from cooking one of them "mack*- 
 rel" with his own hands. If Jonadab hadn t 
 steered him out of the way while I sneaked down 
 to the Port and bought a bass, we d have had 
 to eat dogfish we would, as sure as I m a foot 
 high. 
 
 Stumpton and his daughter, Maudina, was at 
 the Old Home House. Twas late in September, 
 and the boarders had cleared out. Old Dilla- 
 way Peter s father-in-law had decoyed the pair 
 on from Montana because him and some Wall 
 Street sharks were figgering on buying some cop 
 per country out that way that Stumpton owned. 
 Then Dillaway was took sick, and Peter, who was 
 just back from his wedding tower, brought the 
 Montana victims down to the Cape with the ex 
 cuse to give em a good time alongshore, but 
 really to keep em safe and out of the way till
 
 THE DOG STAR 79 
 
 Ebenezer got well enough to finish robbing em. 
 Belle Peter s wife stayed behind to look after 
 papa. 
 
 Stumpton was a great tall man, narrer in the 
 beam, and with a figgerhead like a henhawk. 
 He enjoyed himself here at the Cape. He fished, 
 and loafed, and shot at a mark. He sartinly 
 could shoot. The only thing he was wishing 
 for was something alive to shoot at, and Brown 
 had promised to take him out duck shooting. 
 Twas too early for oucks, but that didn t worry 
 Peter any; he d a-had ducks to shoot at if he 
 bought all the poultry in the township. 
 
 Maudina was like her name, pretty, but sort 
 of soft and mushy. She had big blue eyes and 
 a baby face, and her principal cargo was poetry. 
 She had a deckload of it, and she d heave it over 
 board every time the wind changed. She was 
 forever ordering the ocean to "roll on," but she 
 didn t mean it; I had her out sailing once when 
 the bay was a little mite rugged, and I know. 
 She was just out of a convent school, and you 
 could see she wasn t used to most things includ 
 ing men. 
 
 The first week slipped along, and everything 
 was serene. Bulletins from Ebenezer more en 
 couraging every day, and no squalls in sight. 
 But twas almost too slick. I was afraid the
 
 *o THE " OLD HOME HOUSE " 
 
 calm was a weather breeder, and sure enough, 
 the hurricane struck us the day after that fish 
 ing trip. 
 
 Peter had gone driving with Maudina and 
 her dad, and me and Cap n Jonadab was smok 
 ing on the front piazza. I was pulling at a pipe, 
 but the cap n had the home end of one of Stump- 
 ton s cigars harpooned on the little blade of his 
 jackknife, and was busy pumping the last drop 
 of comfort out of it. I never see a man who 
 wanted to get his money s wath more n Jonadab, 
 I give you my word, I expected to see him swaller 
 that cigar remnant every minute. 
 
 And all to once he gives a gurgle in his throat. 
 "Take a drink of water," says I, scared like. 
 "Well, by time!" says he, pointing. 
 A feller had just turned the corner of the house 
 and was heading up in our direction. He was 
 a thin, lengthy craft, with more n the average 
 amount of wrists sticking out of his sleeves, and 
 with long black hair trimmed aft behind his ears 
 and curling on the back of his neck. He had 
 high cheek bones and kind of sunk-in black eyes, 
 and altogether he looked like "Dr. Macgoozle- 
 um, the Celebrated Blackfoot Medicine Man." 
 If he d hollered: "Sagwa Bitters, only one dol 
 lar a bottle!" I wouldn t have been surprised. 
 But his clothes don t say a word! His coat
 
 THE DOG STAR 81 
 
 was long and buttoned up tight, so s you couldn t 
 tell whether he had a vest on or not though 
 twas a safe bet he hadn t and it and his pants 
 was made of the loudest kind of black-and-white 
 checks. No nice quiet pepper-and-salt, you under 
 stand, but the checkerboard kind, the oilcloth 
 kind, the kind that looks like the marble floor 
 in the Boston post-office. They was pretty 
 tolerable seedy, and so was his hat. Oh, he was 
 a last year s bird s nest now, but when them clothes 
 was fresh whew! the northern lights and a 
 rainbow mixed wouldn t have been more n a 
 cloudy day longside of him. 
 
 He run up to the piazza like a clipper coming 
 into port, and he sweeps off that rusty hat and 
 hails us grand and easy. 
 
 "Good-morning, gentlemen," says he. 
 
 "We don t want none," says Jonadab, de 
 cided. 
 
 The feller looked surprised. "I beg your par 
 don," says he. " You don t want any what ? " 
 
 "We don t want any Life of King Solomon* 
 nor The World s Big Classifyers. And we don t 
 want to buy any patent paint, nor sewing ma 
 chines, nor clothes washers, nor climbing ever 
 green roses, nor rheumatiz salve. And we don t 
 want our pictures painted, neither." 
 
 Jonadab was getting excited. Nothing riles
 
 82 THE " OLD HOME HOUSE " 
 
 him wuss than a peddler, unless it s a woman 
 selling tickets to a church fair. The feller swelled 
 up until I thought the top button on that thunder 
 storm coat would drag anchor, sure. 
 
 "You are mistaken," says he. "I have called 
 to see Mr. Peter Brown; he is er a relative 
 of mine." 
 
 Well, you could have blown me and Jonadab 
 over with a cat s-paw. We went on our beam 
 ends, so s to speak. A relation of Peter T. s; 
 why, if he d been twice the panorama he was 
 we d have let him in when he said that. Loud 
 clothes, we figgered, must run in the family. We 
 remembered how Peter was dressed the first time 
 we met him. 
 
 "You don t say!" says I. "Come right up 
 and set down, Mr. Mr. 
 
 "Montague," says the feller. "Booth Mon 
 tague. Permit me to present my card." 
 
 He drove into the hatches of his checkerboards 
 and rummaged around, but he didn t find nothing 
 but holes, I jedge, because he looked dreadful 
 put out, and begged our pardons five or six times. 
 
 "Dear me!" says he. "This is embarassing. 
 I ve forgot my cardcase." 
 
 We told him never mind the card; any of 
 Peter s folks was more n welcome. So he come 
 up the steps and set down in a piazza chair like
 
 THE DOG STAR 8 3 
 
 King Edward perching on his throne. Then he 
 hove out some remarks about its being a nice 
 morning, all in a condescending sort of way, as 
 if he usually attended to the weather himself, 
 but had been sort of busy lately, and had handed 
 the job over to one of the crew. We told him all 
 about Peter, and Belle, and Ebenezer, and about 
 Stumpton and Maudina. He was a good deal 
 interested, and asked considerable many questions. 
 Pretty soon we heard a carriage rattling up the 
 road. 
 
 "Hello!" says I. "I guess that s Peter and 
 the rest coming now." 
 
 Mr. Montague got off his throne kind of sud 
 den. 
 
 "Ahem!" says he. "Is there a room here 
 where I may er receive Mr. Brown in a less 
 public manner? It will be rather a er sur 
 prise for him, and " 
 
 Well, there was a good deal of sense in that. 
 I know twould surprise me to have such an 
 image as he was sprung on me without any no 
 tice. We steered him into the gents parlor, 
 and shut the door. In a minute the horse and 
 wagon come into the yard. Maudina said she d 
 had a "heavenly" drive, and unloaded some 
 poetry concerning the music of billows and 
 pine trees, and such. She and her father went
 
 84 THE " OLD HOME HOUSE " 
 
 up to their rooms, and when the decks was clear 
 Jonadab and me tackled Peter T. 
 
 "Peter," says Jonadab, "we ve got a sur 
 prise for you. One of your relations has come." 
 
 Brown, he did look surprised, but he didn t 
 act as he was any too joyful. 
 
 "Relation of mine?" says he. "Come off! 
 What s his name ? " 
 
 We told him Montague, Booth Montague. 
 He laughed. 
 
 "Wake up and turn over," he says. "They 
 never had anything like that in my family. Booth 
 Montague! Sure twa n t Algernon Cough-drops ?" 
 
 We said no, twas Booth Montague, and that 
 he was waiting in the gents parlor. So he 
 laughed again, and said somethin about send 
 ing for Laura Lean Jibbey, and then we started. 
 
 The checkerboard feller was standing up when 
 we opened the door. "Hello, Petey!" says he, 
 cool as a cucumber, and sticking out a foot and 
 a half of wrist with a hand at the end of it. 
 
 Now, it takes considerable to upset Peter 
 Theodosius Brown. Up to that time and hour 
 I d have bet on him against anything short of 
 an earthquake. But Booth Montague done it 
 knocked him plumb out of water. Peter 
 actually turned white. 
 
 "Great " he began, and then stopped an/
 
 THE DOG STAR 85 
 
 swallered. "Hank!" he says, and set down in 
 a chair. 
 
 "The same/ says Montague, waving the star 
 board extension of the checkerboard. "Petey, 
 it does me good to set my eyes on you. Espe 
 cially now, when you re the real thing." 
 
 Brown never answered for a minute. Then 
 he canted over to port and reached down into 
 his pocket. "Well," says he, "how much? 1 
 
 But Hank, or Booth, or Montague whatever 
 his name was he waved his flipper disdainful. 
 Nun-nun-nun-no, Petey, my son," he says, 
 smiling. "It ain t how much? this time. 
 When I heard how you d rung the bell the first 
 shot out the box and was rolling in coin, I said 
 to myself: Here s where the prod comes back 
 to his own. I ve come to live with you, Petey, 
 and you pay the freight." 
 
 Peter jumped out of the chair. "Live with 
 me!" he says. "You Friday evening amateur 
 night! It s back to Ten Nights in a Barroom* 
 for yours!" he says. 
 
 "Oh, no, it ain t!" says Hank, cheerful. "It ll 
 be back to Popper Dillaway and Belle. When 
 I tell em I m your little cousin Henry and how 
 you and me worked the territories together 
 why well, I guess there ll be gladness round 
 the dear home nest; hey? "
 
 86 THE " OLD HOME HOUSE " 
 
 Peter didn t say nothing. Then he fetched 
 a long breath and motioned with his head to 
 Cap n Jonadab and me. We see we weren t 
 invited to the family reunion, so we went out and 
 shut the door. But we did pity Peter; I snum 
 if we didn t! 
 
 It was most an hour afore Brown come out of 
 that room. When he did he took Jonadab and 
 me by the arm and led us out back of the 
 barn. 
 
 "Fellers," he says, sad and mournful, "that 
 that plaster cast in a crazy-quilt," he says, 
 referring to Montague, "is a cousin of mine. 
 That s the living truth," says he, "and the only 
 excuse I can make is that tain t my fault. He s 
 my cousin, all right, and his name s Hank Schmults, 
 but the sooner you box that fact up in your for- 
 getory, the smoother twill be for yours drearily, 
 Peter T. Brown. He s to be Mr. Booth Mon 
 tague, the celebrated English poet, so long s he 
 hangs out at the Old Home; and he s to hang 
 out here until well, until I can dope out a way 
 to get rid of him." 
 
 We didn t say nothing for a minute just 
 thought. Then Jonadab says, kind of puzzled: 
 "What makes you call him a poet ? " he says. 
 
 Peter answered pretty snappy: Cause there s 
 only two or three jobs that a long-haired image
 
 THE DOG STAR 87 
 
 like him could hold down," he says. "I d call 
 him a musician if he could play Bedelia* on a 
 jews -harp; but he can t, so s he s got to be a 
 poet." 
 
 And a poet he was for the next week or so. 
 Peter drove down to Wellmouth that night and 
 bought some respectable black clothes, and the 
 follering morning, when the celebrated Booth 
 Montague come sailing into the dining room, 
 with his curls brushed back from his forehead, 
 and his new cutaway on, and his wrists covered 
 up with clean cuffs, blessed if he didn t look dis 
 tinguished at least, that s the only word I can 
 think of that fills the bill. And he talked beau 
 tiful language, not like the slang he hove at 
 Brown and us in the gents parlor. 
 
 Peter done the honors, introducing him to us 
 and the Stumptons as a friend who d come from 
 England unexpected, and Hank he bowed and 
 scraped, and looked absent-minded and crazy 
 like a poet ought to. Oh, he done well at it! 
 You could see that twas just pie for him. 
 
 And twas pie for Maudina, too. Being, as 
 I said, kind of green concerning men folks, and 
 likewise taking to poetry like a cat to fish, she 
 just fairly gushed over this fraud. She d reel 
 off a couple of fathom of verses from fellers 
 named Spencer or Waller, or such like, and he d
 
 88 THE " OLD HOME HOUSE " 
 
 never turn a hair, but back he d come and say 
 they was good, but he preferred Confucius, or 
 Methuselah, or somebody so antique that she 
 nor nobody else ever heard of em. Oh, he run 
 a safe course, and he had her in tow afore they 
 turned the first mark. 
 
 Jonadab and me got worried. We see how 
 things was going, and we didn t like it. Stump- 
 ton was having too good a time to notice, going 
 after "Labrador mack rel" and so on, and Peter 
 T. was too busy steering the cruises to pay any 
 attention. But one afternoon I come by the 
 summerhouse unexpected, and there sat Booth 
 Montague and Maudina, him with a clove hitch 
 round her waist, and she looking up into his eyes 
 like they were peekholes in the fence round 
 paradise. That was enough. It just simply 
 couldn t go any further, so that night me and 
 Jonadab had a confab up in my room. 
 
 "Barzilla," says the cap n, "if we tell Peter 
 that that relation of his is figgering to marry 
 Maudina Stumpton for her money, and that he s 
 more n likely to elope with her, twill pretty nigh 
 kill Pete, won t it ? No, sir; it s up to you and 
 me. We ve got to figger out some way to get 
 rid of the critter ourselves." 
 
 "It s a wonder to me," I says, "that Peter 
 puts up with him. Why don t he order him to
 
 THE DOG STAR 89 
 
 / 
 
 clear out, and tell Belle if he wants to ? She 
 can t blame Peter cause his uncle was father 
 to an outrage like that." 
 
 Jonadab looks at me scornful. " Can t, hey ? " 
 he says. "And her high-toned and chumming 
 in with the bigbugs ? It s easy to see you never 
 was married," says he. 
 
 Well, I never was, so I shut up. 
 
 We set there and thought and thought, and 
 by and by I commenced to sight an idee in the 
 offing. Twas hull down at first, but pretty soon 
 I got it into speaking distance, and then I broke 
 it gentle to Jonadab. He grabbed at it like 
 the "Labrador mack rel" grabbed Stumpton s 
 hook. We set up and planned until pretty nigh 
 three o clock, and all the next day we put in our 
 spare time loading provisions and water aboard 
 the Patience M. We put grub enough aboard 
 to last a month. 
 
 Just at daylight the morning after that we 
 knocked at the door of Montague s bedroom. 
 When he woke up enough to open the door 
 it took some time, cause eating and sleeping was 
 his mainstay we told him that we was planning 
 an early morning fishing trip, and if he wanted 
 to go with the folks he must come down to the 
 landing quick. He promised to hurry, and I 
 stayed by the door to see that he didn t get away.
 
 90 THE " OLD HOME HOUSE " 
 
 In about ten minutes we had him in the skiff 
 rowing off to the Patience M. 
 
 " Where s the rest of the crowd ? " says he, 
 when he stepped aboard. 
 
 "They ll be along when we re ready for *em," 
 says I. "You go below there, will you, and stow 
 away the coats and things." 
 
 So he crawled into the cabin, and I helped 
 Jonadab get up sail. We intended towing the 
 skiff, so I made her fast astern. In half a shake 
 we was under way and headed out of the cove. 
 When that British poet stuck his nose out of 
 the companion we was abreast the p int. 
 
 "Hi!" says he, scrambling into the cockpit. 
 "What s this mean?" 
 
 I was steering and feeling toler ble happy over 
 the way things had worked out. 
 
 "Nice sailing breeze, ain t it ? " says I, smiling. 
 
 " Where s Mau Miss Stumpton ? " he says, 
 wild like. 
 
 "She s abed, I cal late," says I, "getting her 
 beauty sleep. Why don t you turn in ? Or 
 are you pretty enough now? 
 
 He looked first at me and then at Jonadab, 
 and his face turned a little yellower than usual. 
 
 "What kind of a game is this?" he asks, 
 brisk. "Where are you going? " 
 
 Twas Jonadab that answered. " We re
 
 THE DOG STAR 91 
 
 bound," says he, "for the Bermudas. It s a 
 lovely place to spend the winter, they tell me/* 
 he says. 
 
 That poet never made no remarks. He jumped 
 to the stern and caught hold of the skiff s paint 
 er. I shoved him out of the way and picked 
 up the boat hook. Jonadab rolled up his shirt 
 sleeves and laid hands on the centerboard stick. 
 
 "I wouldn t, if I was you," says the cap n. 
 
 Jonadab weighs pretty close to two hundred, 
 and most of it s gristle. I m not quite so much, 
 fur s tonnage goes, but I ain t exactly a canary 
 bird. Montague seemed to size things up in a 
 jiffy. He looked at us, then at the sail, and then 
 at the shore out over the stern. 
 
 "Done!" says he. "Done! And by a couple 
 of farmers !" 
 
 And down he sets on the thwart. 
 
 Well, we sailed all that day and all that night. 
 Course we didn t really intend to make the Ber 
 mudas. What we intended to do was to cruise 
 around alongshore for a couple of weeks, long 
 enough for the Stumptons to get back to Dilla- 
 way s, settle the copper business and break for 
 Montana. Then we was going home again and 
 turn Brown s relation over to him to take care 
 of. We knew Peter d have some plan thought 
 out by that time. We d left a note telling him
 
 92 THE " OLD HOME HOUSE " 
 
 what we d done, and saying that we trusted to 
 him to explain matters to Maudina and her dad. 
 We knew that explaining was Peter s main holt. 
 
 The poet was pretty chipper for a spell. He 
 set on the thwart and bragged about what he d 
 do when he got back to "Petey" again. He 
 said we couldn t git rid of him so easy. Then 
 he spun yarns about what him and Brown did 
 when they was out West together. They was 
 interesting yarns, but we could see why Peter 
 wa n t anxious to introduce Cousin Henry to 
 Belle. Then the Patience M. got out where 
 twas pretty rugged, and she rolled consider ble 
 and after that we didn t hear much more from 
 friend Booth he was too busy to talk. 
 
 That night me and Jonadab took watch and 
 watch. In the morning it thickened up and 
 looked squally. I got kind of worried. By 
 nine o clock there was every sign of a no theaster, 
 and we see we d have to put in somewheres and 
 ride it out. So we headed for a place we ll call 
 Baytown, though that wa n t the name of it. 
 It s a queer, old-fashioned town, and it s on an 
 island; maybe you can guess it from that. 
 
 Well, we run into the harbor and let go anchor. 
 Jonadab crawled into the cabin to get some ter- 
 backer, and I was for ard coiling the throat hal 
 yard. All at once I heard oars rattling, and I
 
 THE DOG STAR 93 
 
 turned my head; what I see made me let out 
 a yell like a siren whistle. 
 
 There was that everlasting poet in the skiff 
 you remember we d been towing it astern 
 and he was jest cutting the painter with his jack- 
 knife. Next minute he d picked up the oars 
 and was heading for the wharf, doubling up and 
 stretching out like a frog swimming, and with 
 his curls streaming in the wind like a rooster s 
 tail in a hurricane, He had a long start fore 
 Jonadab and me woke up enough to think of 
 chasing him. 
 
 But we woke up fin lly, and the way we flew 
 round that catboat was a caution. I laid into 
 them halyards, and I had the mainsail up to the 
 peak afore Jonadab got the anchor clear of the 
 bottom. Then I jumped to the tiller, and the 
 Patience M. took after that skiff like a pup after 
 a tomcat. We run alongside the wharf just as 
 Booth Hank climbed over the stringpiece. 
 
 "Get after him, Barzilla!" hollers Cap n Jona 
 dab. "I ll make her fast." 
 
 Well, I hadn t took more n three steps when 
 I see twas goin to be a long chase. Montague 
 unfurled them thin legs of his and got over the 
 ground something wonderful. All you could see 
 was a pile of dust and coat tails flapping. 
 
 Up on the wharf we went and round the cor-
 
 94 THE " OLD HOME HOUSE " 
 
 ner into a straggly kind of road with old-fash 
 ioned houses on both sides of it. Nobody in the 
 yards, nobody at the windows; quiet as could 
 be, except that off ahead, somewheres, there was 
 music playing. 
 
 That road was a quarter of a mile long, but 
 we galloped through it so fast that the scenery 
 was nothing but a blur. Booth was gaining all 
 the time, but I stuck to it like a good one. We 
 took a short cut through a yard, piled over a 
 fence and come out into another road, and up 
 at the head of it was a crowd of folks men and 
 women and children and dogs. 
 
 "Stop thief!" I hollers, and way astern I 
 heard Jonadab bellering: "Stop thief!" 
 
 Montague dives headfirst for the crowd. He 
 fell over a baby carriage, and I gained a tack 
 fore he got up. He wa n t more n ten yards 
 ahead when I come busting through, upsetting 
 children and old women, and landed in what I 
 guess was the main street of the place and right 
 abreast of a parade that was marching down the 
 middle of it. 
 
 First there was the band, four fellers tooting 
 and banging like fo mast hands on a fishing 
 smack in a fog. Then there was a big darky 
 toting a banner with "Jenkins* Unparalleled 
 Double Uncle Tom s Cabin Company, No. 2,"
 
 THE DOG STAR 95 
 
 on it in big letters. Behind him was a boy lead 
 ing two great, savage looking dogs bloodhounds, 
 I found out afterwards by chains. Then come 
 a pony cart with Little Eva and Eliza s child in 
 it; Eva was all gold hair and beautifulness. 
 And astern of her was Marks the Lawyer, on his 
 donkey. There was lots more behind him, but 
 thee was all I had time to see just then. 
 
 Now, there was but one way for Booth Hank 
 to get acrost that street, and that was to bust 
 through the procession. And, as luck would 
 have it, the place he picked out to cross was just 
 ahead of the bloodhounds. And the first thing I 
 knew, them dogs stretched out their noses and took 
 a long sniff, and then bust out howling like all 
 possessed. The boy, he tried to hold em, but 
 twas no go. They yanked the chains out of his 
 hands and took after that poet as if he owed em 
 something. And every one of the four million 
 other dogs that was in the crowd on the sidewalks 
 fell into line, and such howling and yapping and 
 scampering and screaming you never heard. 
 
 Well, twas a mixed-up mess. That was the end 
 of the parade. Next minute I was racing across 
 country with the whole town and the Uncle Tom- 
 mers astern of me, and a string of dogs stretched out 
 ahead fur s you could see. Way up in the lead 
 was Booth Montague and the bloodhounds, and
 
 96 THE "OLD HOME HOUSE" 
 
 away aft I could hear Jonadab yelling: "Stop 
 thief ! " 
 
 Twas lively while it lasted, but it didn t last 
 long. There was a little hill at the end of the 
 field, and where the poet dove over tother side 
 of it the bloodhounds all but had him. Afore 
 I got to the top of the rise I heard the awfullest 
 powwow going on in the holler, and thinks I: 
 "They re eating him alive!" 
 
 But they wan t. When I hove in sight Mon 
 tague was setting up on the ground at the foot of 
 the sand bank he d fell into, and the two hounds 
 was rolling over him, lapping his face and going on 
 as if he was their grandpa jest home from sea with 
 his wages in his pocket. And round them, in a 
 double ring, was all the town dogs, crazy mad, and 
 barking and snarling, but scared to go any closer. 
 
 In a minute more the folks begun to arrive; 
 boys first, then girls and men, and then the 
 women. Marks came trotting up, pounding the 
 donkey with his umbrella. 
 
 "Here, Lion! Here, Tige!" he yells. "Quit 
 it! Let him alone!" Then he looks at Mon 
 tague, and his jaw kind of drops. 
 
 "Why why, Hank!" he says. 
 
 A tall, lean critter, in a black tail coat and a 
 yaller vest and lavender pants, comes puffing up. 
 He was the manager, we found out afterward.
 
 THE DOG STAR 97 
 
 "Have they bit him ?" says he. Then he done 
 just the same as Marks; his mouth opened and 
 
 "THEY RE EATING HIM ALIVE!" 
 
 his eyes stuck out. "Hank Schmults, by the 
 living jingo!" says he. 
 
 Booth Montague looks at the two of em kind 
 of sick and lonesome. "Hello, Barney! How 
 are you, Sullivan ? " he says. 
 
 I thought twas about time for me to get promi 
 nent. I stepped up, and was just going to say 
 something when somebody cuts in ahead of me. 
 
 "Hum!" says a voice, a woman s voice, and
 
 98 THE "OLD HOME HOUSE " 
 
 tolerable crisp and vinegary. "Hum! it s you, 
 is it ? I ve been looking for you ! " 
 
 Twas Little Eva in the pony cart. Her lovely 
 posy hat was hanging on the back of her neck, 
 her gold hair had slipped back so s you could 
 see the black under it, and her beautiful red 
 cheeks was kind of streaky. She looked some 
 older and likewise mad. 
 
 "Hum!" says she, getting out of the cart. 
 "It s you, is it, Hank Schmults ? Well, p r aps 
 you ll tell me where you ve been for the last two 
 weeks ? What do you mean by running away 
 and leaving your " 
 
 Montague interrupted her. "Hold on, Mag 
 gie, hold on!" he begs. "Don t make a row 
 here. It s all a mistake; I ll explain it to you 
 all right. Now, please " 
 
 "Explain!" hollers Eva, kind of curling up her 
 fingers and moving toward him. "Explain, will 
 you ? Why, you miserable, low-down " 
 
 But the manager took hold of her arm. He d 
 been looking at the crowd, and I cal late he saw 
 that here was the chance for the best kind of an 
 advertisement. He whispered in her ear. Next 
 thing I knew she clasped her hands together, 
 let out a scream and runs up and grabs the cele 
 brated British poet round the neck. 
 "Booth!" says she. "My husband! Saved! Saved!"
 
 THE DOG STAR 99 
 
 And she went all to pieces and cried all over 
 his necktie. And then Marks trots up the child, 
 and that young one hollers: "Papa! papa!" and 
 tackles Hank around the legs. And I m blessed 
 if Montague don t slap his hand to his forehead, 
 and toss back his curls, and look up at the sky, 
 and sing out: "My wife and babe! Restored to 
 me after all these years! The heavens be thanked!" 
 
 Well, twas a sacred sort of time. The town 
 folks tiptoed away, the men looking solemn but 
 glad, and the women swabbing their deadlights 
 and saying how affecting twas, and so on. Oh, 
 you could see that show would do business that 
 night, if it never did afore. 
 
 The manager got after Jonadab and me later 
 on, and did his best to pump us, but he didn t find 
 out much. He told us that Montague belonged to 
 the Uncle Tom s Cabin Company, and that he d 
 disappeared a fortni t or so afore, when they were 
 playing at Hyannis. Eva was his wife, and the 
 child was their little boy. The bloodhounds knew 
 him, and that s why they chased him so. 
 
 "What was you two yelling Stop thief! after 
 him for ? " says he. " Has he stole anything ? " 
 
 We says "No." 
 
 "Then what did you want to get him for ?" he says. 
 
 "We didn t," says Jonadab. "We wanted to get 
 rid of him. We don t want to see him no mor."
 
 loo THE "OLD HOME HOUSE" 
 
 You could tell that the manager was puzzled, 
 but he laughed. 
 
 "All right," says he. "If I know anything 
 about Maggie that s Mrs. Schmults he won t 
 get loose ag in." 
 
 We only saw Montague to talk to but once 
 that day. Then he peeked out from under the 
 winder shade at the hotel and asked us if ~ 7 e d 
 told anybody where he d been. When he v^und 
 we hadn t, he was thankful. 
 
 "You tell Petey," says he, "that he s won the 
 whole pot, kitty and all. I don t think I ll visit 
 him again, nor Belle, neither." 
 
 "I wouldn t," says I. "They might write to 
 Maudina that you was a married man. And 
 old Stumpton s been praying for something alive 
 to shoot at," I says. 
 
 The manager gave Jonadab ana me a couple 
 of tickets, and we went to the show that night. 
 And when we saw Booth Hank Montague parad 
 ing about the stage and defying the slave hunters, 
 and telling em he was a free man, standing on 
 the Lord s free soil, and so on, we realized twould 
 have been a crime to let him do anything else. 
 
 "As an imitation poet," says Jonadab, "he 
 was a kind of mildewed article, but as a play 
 actor well, there may be some that can beat 
 him, but I never see em!"
 
 THE MARE AND THE MOTOR
 
 THE MARE AND THE MOTOR 
 
 Them Todds had got on my nerves. Twas 
 Peter s ad that brought em down. You see, 
 twas long toward the end of the season at the 
 Old Home, and Brown had been advertising in 
 the New York and Boston papers to "bag the 
 leftovers," as he called it. Besides the reg lar 
 hogwash about the "breath of old ocean" and 
 the "simple, cleanly living of the bygone days 
 we dream about," there was some new froth con 
 cerning hunting and fishing. You d think the 
 wild geese roosted on the flagpole nights, and the 
 bluefish clogged up the bay so s you could walk 
 on their back fins without wetting your feet 
 that is, if you wore rubbers and trod light. 
 
 "There!" says Peter T., waving the adver 
 tisement and crowing gladsome; "they ll take 
 to that like your temp rance aunt to brandy cough- 
 drops. We ll have to put up barbed wire to keep 
 em off." 
 
 "Humph!" grunts Cap n Jonadab. "Any 
 body but a born fool ll know there ain t any shoot 
 ing down here this time of year." 
 
 103
 
 104 THE "OLD HOME HOUSE" 
 
 Peter looked at him sorrowful. "Pop," says 
 he, "did you ever hear that Solomon answered a 
 summer hotel ad ? This ain t a Chautauqua, this 
 is the Old Home House, and its motto is: There s 
 a new victim born every minute, and there s 
 twenty-four hours in a day. You set back and 
 count the clock ticks." 
 
 Well, that s bout all we had to do. We got 
 boarders enough from that ridiculous advertise 
 ment to fill every spare room we had, including 
 Jonadab s and mine. Me and the cap n had ro 
 bunk in the barn loft; but there was some satis 
 faction in that it give us an excuse to get away 
 from the "sports" in the smoking room. 
 
 The Todds was part of the haul. He was a 
 little, dried-up man, single, and a minister. 
 Nigh s I could find out, he d given up preaching 
 by the request of the doctor and his last congre 
 gation. He had a notion that he was a mighty 
 hunter afore the Lord, like Nimrod in the Bible, 
 and he d come to the Old Home to bag a few 
 gross of geese and ducks. 
 
 His sister was an old maid, and slim, neither of 
 which failings was from choice, I cal late. She 
 wore eye-glasses and a veil to " preserve her com 
 plexion," and her idee seemed to be that native 
 Cape Codders lived in trees and ate cocoanuts. 
 She called em "barbarians, utter barbarians."
 
 THE MARE AND THE MOTOR 105 
 
 Whenever she piped "James" her brother had to 
 drop everything and report on deck. She was 
 skipper of the Todd craft. 
 
 Them Todds was what Peter T. called "the 
 limit, and a chip or two over." The other would- 
 be gunners and fishermen were satisfied to slam 
 shot after sandpeeps, or hook a stray sculpin or a 
 hake. But t wa n t so with brother James Todd 
 and sister Clarissa. "Ducks" it was in the ad 
 vertising, and nothing but ducks they wanted. 
 Clarissa, she commenced to hint middling p inted 
 concerning fraud. 
 
 Finally we lost patience, and Peter T., he said 
 they d got to be quieted somehow, or he d do 
 some shooting on his own hook; said too much 
 Toddy was going to his head. Then I suggested 
 taking em down the beach somewheres on the 
 chance of seeing a stray coot or loon or some 
 thing anything that could be shot at. Jonadab 
 and Peter agreed twas a good plan, and we 
 matched to see who d be guide. And I got stuck, 
 of course; my luck again. 
 
 So the next morning we started, me and the 
 Reverend James and Clarissa in the Greased 
 Lightning, Peter s new motor launch. First part 
 of the trip that Todd man done nothing but ask 
 questions about the launch; I had to show him 
 how to start it and steer it, and the land knows
 
 io6 THJf "OLD HOME HOUSE" 
 
 what all. Clarissa set around doing the heavy con 
 temptuous and turning up her nose at creation 
 generally. It must have its drawbacks, this 
 roosting so fur above the common flock; seems 
 to me I d be thinking all the time of the bump 
 that was due me if I got shoved off the perch. 
 
 Well, by and by Lonesome Huckleberries 
 shanty hove in sight, and I was glad to see it, 
 although I had to answer a million questions 
 about Lonesome and his history. 
 
 I told the Todds that, so fur as nationality war 
 concerned he was a little of everything, like a 
 picked-up dinner; principally Eyetalian and 
 Portugee, I cal late, with a streak of Gay Head 
 Injun. His real name s long enough to touch 
 bottom in the ship channel at high tide, so folks 
 got to calling him "Huckleberries" because he 
 peddles them kind of fruit in summer. Then 
 he mopes around so with nary a smile on his 
 face, that it seemed right to tack on the "Lone 
 some." So "Lonesome Huckleberries" he s been 
 for ten years. He lives in the patchwork shanty 
 on the beach down there, he is deaf and dumb, 
 drives a liver-colored, balky mare that no one 
 but himself and his daughter Becky can handle, 
 and he has a love for bad rum and a temper that s 
 landed him in the Wellmouth lock-up more than 
 once or twice. He s one of the best gunners
 
 THE MARE AND THE MOTOR 107 
 
 alongshore and at this time he owned a flock of 
 live decoys that he d refused as high as fifteen 
 dollars apiece for. I told all this and a lot more. 
 
 When we struck the beach, Clarissa, she took 
 her paint box and umbrella and mosquito int- 
 ment, and the rest of her cargo, and went off by 
 herself to "sketch." She was great on "sketch 
 ing," and the way she d use up good paint and 
 spile nice clean paper was a sinful waste. Afore 
 she went, she give me three fathom of sailing 
 orders concerning taking care of "James." You d 
 think he was about four year old; made me feel 
 like a hired nurse. 
 
 James and me went perusing up and down 
 that beach in the blazing sun looking for some 
 thing to shoot. We went way beyond Lonesome s 
 shanty, but there wa n t nobody to home. Lone 
 some himself, it turned out afterward, was up to 
 the village with his horse and wagon, and his 
 daughter Becky was over in the wood ; on the 
 mainland berrying. Todd was a cheerful talker, 
 but limited. His favorite remark was: "Oh, 
 I say, my deah man." That s what he kept 
 calling me, "my deah man." Now, my name 
 ain t exactly a Claude de Montmorency for pret- 
 tmess, but "Barzilla" 11 fetch me alongside a good 
 deal quicker n "my deah man," I ll tell you that. 
 
 We frogged it up and down all the forenoon,
 
 io8 THE "OLD HOME HOUSE" 
 
 but didn t git a shot at nothing but one stray 
 "squawk" that had come over from the Cedar 
 Swamp. I told James twas a canvasback, and he 
 blazed away at it, but missed it by three fathom, 
 as might have been expected. 
 
 Finally, my game leg rheumatiz, you under 
 stand begun to give out. So I flops down in 
 the shade of a sand bank to rest, and the reverend 
 goes poking off by himself. 
 
 I cal late I must have fell asleep, for when I 
 looked at my watch it was close to one o clock, 
 and time for us to be getting back to port. I got 
 up and stretched and took an observation, but 
 further n Clarissa s umbrella on the skyline, I 
 didn t see anything stirring. Brother James 
 wa n t visible, but I jedged he was within hailing 
 distance. You can t see very fur on that point, 
 there s too many sand hills and hummocks. 
 
 I started over toward the Greased Lightning. 
 I d gone only a little ways, and was down in a 
 gully between two big hummocks, when "Bang! 
 bang!" goes both barrels of a shotgun, and that 
 Todd critter busts out hollering like all possessed. 
 
 " Hooray! " he squeals, in that squeaky voice 
 of his. "Hooray! I ve got em! I ve got em!" 
 
 Thinks I, "What in the nation does the lunatic 
 cal late he s shot ? " And I left my own gun 
 laying where twas and piled no over the edge of
 
 THE MARE AND THE MOTOR 109 
 
 that sand bank like a cat over a fence. And then 
 I see a sight. 
 
 There was James, hopping up and down in the 
 beach grass, squealing like a Guinea hen with a 
 sore throat, and waving his gun with one wing 
 arm, I mean and there in front of him, in the 
 foam at the edge of the surf, was two ducks as 
 dead as Nebuchadnezzar two of Lonesome 
 Huckleberries best decoy ducks ducks he d 
 tamed and trained, and thought more of than 
 anything else in this world except rum, maybe 
 and the rest of the flock was digging up the 
 beach for home as if they d been telegraped for, 
 and squawking "Fire!" and "Murder!" 
 
 Well, my mind was in a kind of various state, 
 as you might say, for a minute. Course, I d 
 known about Lonesome s owning them decoys 
 told Todd about em, too but I hadn t seen 
 em nowhere alongshore, and I sort of cal lated 
 they was locked up in Lonesome s hen house, 
 that being his usual way when he went to town. 
 I s pose likely they d been feeding among the 
 beach grass somewheres out of sight, but I don t 
 know for sartin to this day. And I didn t stop 
 to reason it out then, neither. As Scriptur* or 
 George Washin ton or somebody says, " twas a 
 condition, not a theory," I was afoul of. 
 
 "I ve got em!" hollers Todd, grinning till I
 
 i io THE "OLD HOME HOUSE" 
 
 thought he d swaller his own ears. "I shot em 
 all myself!" 
 
 "You everlasting " I begun, but I didn t 
 
 get any further. There was a rattling noise 
 behind me, and I turned, to see Lonesome Huckle 
 berries himself, setting on the seat of his old truck 
 wagon and glaring over the hammer head of that 
 balky mare of his straight at brother Todd and 
 the dead decoys. 
 
 For a minute there was a kind of tableau, like 
 them they have at church fairs all four of us, 
 including the mare, keeping still, like we was 
 frozen. But twas only for a minute. Then il 
 turned into the liveliest moving picture that ever 
 / see. Lonesome couldn t swear being a dummy 
 but if ever a man got profane with his eyes, he 
 did right then. Next thing I knew he tossed 
 both hands into the air, clawed two handfuls 
 out of the atmosphere, reached down into the cart, 
 grabbed a pitch-fork and piled out of that wagon 
 and after Todd. There was murder coming and 
 I could see it. 
 
 "Run, you loon!" I hollers, desperate. 
 
 James didn t wait for any advice. He didn t 
 know what he d done, I cal late, but he jedged 
 twas his move. He dropped his gun and put 
 down the shore like a wild man, with Lonesome 
 after him. I tried to foller, but my rheumatiz
 
 THE MARE AND THE MOTOR in 
 
 was too big a handicap; all I could do was yell. 
 
 You never d have picked out Todd for a sprinter 
 not to look at him, you wouldn t but if he 
 didn t beat the record for his class just then I ll 
 eat my sou wester. He fairly flew, but Lonesome 
 split tacks with him every time, and kept to 
 wind ard, into the bargain. When they went out 
 of sight amongst the sand hills twas anybody s 
 race. 
 
 I was scart. I knew what Lonesome s temper 
 was, specially when it had been iled with some 
 Wellmouth Port no-license liquor. He d been 
 took up once for half killing some boys that tor 
 mented him, and I figgered if he got within pitch 
 fork distance of the Todd critter he d make him 
 the leakiest divine that ever picked a text. I 
 commenced to hobble back after my gun. It 
 looked bad to me. 
 
 But I d forgot sister Clarissa. Fore I d limped 
 fur I heard her calling to me. 
 
 "Mr. Wingate," says she, "get in here at once." 
 
 There she was, setting on the seat of Lonesome s 
 wagon, holdin the reins and as cool as a white 
 frost in October. 
 
 " Get in at once," says she. I jedged twas good 
 advice, and took it. 
 
 "Proceed," says she to the mare. "Git dap!" 
 says I, and we started. When we rounded the
 
 ii2 THE "OLD HOME HOUSE" 
 
 sand hill we see the race in the distance. Lone 
 some had gained a p int or two, and Todd wa n t 
 more n four pitchforks in the lead. 
 
 "Make for the launch!" I whooped, between 
 my hands. 
 
 The parson heard me and come about and broke 
 for the shore. The Greased Lightning had swung 
 out about the length of her anchor rope, and the 
 water wa n t deep. Todd splashed in to his 
 waist and climbed aboard. He cut the roding 
 just as Lonesome reached tide mark. James, 
 he sees it s a close call, and he shins back to the 
 engine, reaching it exactly at the time when the 
 gent with the pitchfork laid hands on the rail. 
 Then the parson throws over the switch I d 
 shown him how, you remember and gives the 
 starting wheel a full turn. 
 
 Well, you know the Greased Lightning? She 
 don t linger to say farewell, not any to speak of, 
 she don t. And this time she jumped like the cat 
 that lit on the hot stove. Lonesome, being bal 
 anced with his knees on the rail, pitches headfust 
 into the cockpit. Todd, jumping out of his way, 
 falls overboard backward. Next thing anybody 
 knew, the launch was scooting for blue water 
 like a streak of what she was named for, and the 
 hunting chaplain was churning up foam like a 
 mill wheel.
 
 THE MARE AND THE MOTOR 113 
 
 I yelled more orders than second mate on a 
 coaster. Todd bubbled and bellered. Lone 
 some hung on to the rail of the cockpit and let his 
 hair stand up to grow. Nobody was cool but 
 
 HE PITCHED HEAD FIRST INTO THE COCKPIT. 
 
 Clarissa, and she was an iceberg. She had her 
 good p ints, that dd maid did, drat her! 
 
 "James," she calls, "get out of that water this 
 minute and come here! This instant, mind!" 
 
 James minded. He paddled ashore and hopped,
 
 ii 4 THE "OLD HOME HOUSE" 
 
 dripping like a dishcloth, alongside the truck 
 wagon. 
 
 "Get in!" orders Skipper Clarissa. He done it. 
 "Now," says the lady, passing the reins over to 
 me, "drive us home, Mr. Wingate, before that 
 intoxicated lunatic can catch us." 
 
 It seemed about the only thing to do. I knew 
 twas no use explaining to Lonesome for an hour 
 or more yet, even if you can talk finger signs, 
 which part of my college training has been neg 
 lected. Twas murder he wanted at the present 
 time. I had some sort of a foggy notion that I d 
 drive along, pick up the guns and then get the 
 Todds over to the hotel, afterward coming back 
 to get the launch and pay damages to Huckle 
 berries. I cal lated he d be more reasonable by 
 that time. 
 
 But the mare had made other arrangements. 
 When I slapped her with the end of the reins she 
 took the bit in her teeth and commenced to gallop. 
 I hollered "Whoa!" and "Heave to!" and "Be 
 lay!" and everything else I could think of, but she 
 never took in a reef. W 7 e bumped over hum 
 mocks and ridges, and every time we done it we 
 spilled something out of that wagon. First twas 
 a lot of huckleberry pails, then a basket of gro 
 ceries and such, then a tin pan with some potatoes 
 in it, then a jug done up in a blanket. We was
 
 THE MARE AND THE MOTOR 115 
 
 heaving cargo overboard like a leaky ship in a 
 typhoon. Out of the tail of my eye I see Lone 
 some, well out to sea, heading the Greased Light 
 ning for the beach. 
 
 Clarissa put in the time soothing James, who 
 had a serious case of the scart-to-deaths, and 
 calling me an "utter barbarian" for driving so 
 fast. Lucky for all hands, she had to hold on 
 tight to keep from being jounced out, long with 
 the rest of movables, so she couldn t take the reins. 
 As for me, I wa n t paying much attention to her 
 twas the Cut-Through that was disturbing 
 my mind. 
 
 When you drive down to Lonesome P int you 
 have to ford the "Cut-Through." It s -. strip of 
 water between the bay and the ocear, and tain t 
 very wide nor deep at low tide. But the tide was 
 coming in now, and, more n that, the mare wa n t 
 headed for the ford. She was cuttin cross-lots 
 on her own hook, and wouldn t answer the helm. 
 
 We struck that Cut-Through about a hundred 
 yards east of the ford, and in two shakes we was 
 hub deep in salt water. Fore the Todds could do 
 anything but holler the wagon was afloat and the 
 mare was all but swimming. But she kept right 
 on. Bless her, you couldn t stop her! 
 
 We crossed the first channel and come out on a 
 flat where twasn t more n two foot deep then. I
 
 ii6 THE "OLD HOME HOUSE" 
 
 commenced to feel better. There was another 
 channel ahead of us, but I figured we d navigate 
 that same as we had the first one. And then the 
 most outrageous thing happened. 
 
 If you ll b lieve it, that pesky mare balked and 
 wouldn t stir another step. 
 
 And there we was! I punched and kicked and 
 hollered, but all that stubborn horse would do was 
 lay her ears back flat, and snarl up her lip, and 
 look round at us, much as to say: "Now, then, 
 you land sharks, I ve got you between wind and 
 water!" And I swan to man if it didn t look as if 
 she had! 
 
 "Drive on!" says Clarissa, pretty average 
 vinegary. "Haven t you made trouble enough 
 for us already, you dreadful man? Drive on!" 
 
 Hadn t / made trouble enough/ What do you 
 think of that ? 
 
 "You want to drown us!" says Miss Todd, 
 continuing her chatty remarks. "I see it alh 
 It s a plot between you and that murderer. I 
 give you warning; if we reach the hotel, my 
 brother and I will commence suit for damages." 
 
 My temper s fairly long-suffering, but twas 
 raveling some by this time. 
 
 "Commence suit!" I says. "I don t care 
 what you commence, if you ll commence to keep 
 quiet now!" And then I give her a few p ints as
 
 THE MARE AND THE MOTOR 117 
 
 to what her brother had done, heaving in some 
 personal flatteries every once in a while for good 
 measure. 
 
 I d about got to thirdly when James give a 
 screech and p inted. And, if there wa n t Lone 
 some in the launch, headed right for us, and com 
 ing a-b iling! He d run her along abreast of 
 the beach and turned in at the upper end of 
 the Cut-Through. 
 
 You never in your life heard such a row as there 
 was in that wagon. Clarissa and me yelling ta 
 Lonesome to keep off forgitting that he was 
 stone deef and dumb and James vowing that he 
 was going to be slaughtered in cold blood. And 
 the Greased Lightning p inted just so she d split 
 that cart amidships, and coming well, you know 
 how she can go. 
 
 She never budged until she was within ten foot 
 of the flat, and then she sheered off and went 
 past in a wide curve, with Lonesome steering 
 with one hand and shaking his pitchfork at Todd 
 with t other. And such faces as he made-up! 
 They d have got him hung in any court in the 
 world. 
 
 He run up the Cut-Through a little ways, and 
 then come about, and back he comes again, never 
 slacking speed a mite, and running close to the 
 shoal as he could shave, and all the time going
 
 Ji8 THE "OLD HOME HOUSE 
 
 through the bloodiest kind ot pantomimes. And 
 past he goes, to wheel round and commence all 
 over again. 
 
 Thinks I, "Why don t he ease up and lay us 
 aboard ? He s got all the weapons there is. Is 
 he scart ? " 
 
 And then it come to me the reason why. He 
 didn t know how to stop her. He could steel 
 first rate, being used to sailboats, but an electric 
 auto launch was a new ideal for him, and he 
 didn t understand her works. And he dastn t 
 run her aground at the speed she was making; 
 twould have finished her and, more n likely, him, 
 too. 
 
 I don t s pose there ever was another mess just 
 like it afore or sence. Here was us, stranded 
 with a horse we couldn t make go, being chased 
 .by a feller who was run away with in a boat he 
 couldn t stop! 
 
 Just as I d about give up hope, I heard some- 
 tody calling from the beach behind us. I turned, 
 and there was Becky Huckleberries, Lonesome s 
 daughter. She had the dead decoys by the legs 
 in one hand. 
 
 "Hi!" says she. 
 
 "Hi!" says I. "How do you get this giraffe 
 of yours under way ? 
 
 She held up the decoys.
 
 THE MARE AND 7 HE MOTOR 119 
 
 "Who kill-a dem ducks?" says she. 
 
 I p inted to the reverend. "He did," says I. 
 And then I cal late I must have had one of them 
 things they call an inspiration. "And he s willing 
 to pay for em, I says. 
 
 "Pay thirty-five dolla ?" says she. 
 
 "You bet!" says I. 
 
 But I d forgot Clarissa. She rose up in that 
 waterlogged cart like a Statue of Liberty. "Never!" 
 says she. "We will never submit to such extor 
 tion. We ll drown first!" 
 
 Becky heard her. She didn t look disappointed 
 nor nothing. Just turned and begun to walk up 
 the beach. "All right," says she; >o -by." 
 
 The Todds stood it for a jiffy. Then James 
 give in. "I ll pay it! "he hollers. "I ll pay it!" 
 
 Even then Becky didn t smile. She just come 
 about again and walked back to the shore. Then 
 she took up that tin pan and one of the potaters 
 we d jounced out of the cart. 
 
 "Hi, Rosa!" she hollers. That mare turned 
 her head and looked. And, for the first time 
 sence she hove anchor on that flat, the critter un 
 furled her ears and histed em to the masthead. 
 
 "Hi, Rosa!" says Becky again, and begun to 
 pound the pan with the potater. And I give you 
 my word that that mare started up, turned the 
 wagon around nice as could be, and begun to
 
 i2o THE "OLD HOME HOUSE" 
 
 swim ashore. When we got where the critter s 
 legs touched bottom, Becky remarks: "Whoa!" 
 
 "Here!" I yells, "what did you do that for ? " 
 
 "Pay thirty-five dolla now y " says she. She 
 was bus ness, that girl. 
 
 Todd got his wallet from under hatches and 
 counted out the thirty-five, keeping one eye on 
 Lonesome, who was swooping up and down in 
 the launch looking as if he wanted to cut in, but 
 dasn t. I tied the bills to my jack-knife, to give 
 em weight, and tossed the whole thing ashore. 
 Becky, she counted the cash and stowed it away 
 in her apron pocket. 
 
 "All right," says she. "Hi, Rosa!" The 
 potater and pan performance begun again, and 
 Rosa picked up her hoofs and dragged us to dry 
 land. And it sartinly felt good to the feet 
 
 "Say," I says, "Becky, it s none of my affairs, 
 as I know of, but is that the way you usually start 
 that horse of yours ? " 
 
 She said it was. And Rosa ate the potater. 
 
 Becky asked me how to stop the launch, and I 
 told her. She made a lot of finger signs to Lone 
 some, and inside of five minutes the Greased 
 Lightning was anchored in front of us. Old man 
 Huckleberries was still hankering to interview 
 Todd with the pitchfork, but Becky settled that 
 all right. She jumped in front of him, and her
 
 THE MARE AND THE MOTOR 121 
 
 eyes snapped and her feet stamped and her fingers 
 flew. And twould have done you good to see her 
 dad shrivel up and get humble. I always had 
 thought that a woman wasn t much good as a 
 boss of the roost unless she could use her tongue,, 
 but Becky showed me my mistake. Well, it s 
 live and 1 arn. 
 
 Then Miss Huckleberries turned to us and 
 smiled. 
 
 "All right," says she; "goo -by." 
 
 Them Todds took the train for the city next 
 morning. I drove em to the depot. James was 
 kind of glum, but Clarissa talked for two. Her 
 opinion of the Cape and Capers, specially me, 
 was decided. The final blast was just as "he was 
 climbing the car steps. 
 
 "Of all the barbarians," says she; "utter, 
 uncouth, murdering barbarians in " 
 
 She stopped, thinking for a word, I s pose. I 
 didn t feel that I could improve on Becky Huckle? 
 berries conversation much, so I says: 
 
 "bright! Goo -by!"
 
 THE MARK ON THE DOOR
 
 THE MARK ON THE DOOR 
 
 One nice moonlight evening me and Cap n 
 Jonadab and Peter T., having, for a wonder, a 
 little time to ourselves and free from boarders, 
 was setting on the starboard end cf the piazza, 
 smoking, when who should heave in sight but 
 Cap n Eri Hedge and Obed Nickerson. They d 
 come over from Orham that day on some fish 
 business and had drove down to Wellmouth Port 
 on purpose to put up at the Old Home for the 
 night and shake hands with me and Jonadab. 
 We was mighty glad to see em, now I tell you. 
 
 They d had supper up at the fish man s at the 
 Centre, so after Peter T. had gone in and fetched 
 out a handful of cigars, we settled back for a good 
 talk. They wanted to know how business was 
 and we told em. After a spell somebody men 
 tioned the Todds and I spun my yarn about the 
 balky mare and the Greased Lightning. It tickled 
 em most to death, especially Obed. 
 
 "Ho, ho!" says he. "That s funny, ain t it. 
 Them power boats are great things, ain t they. 
 
 135
 
 126 THE "OLD HOME HOUSE" 
 
 I had an experience in one or, rather, in two 
 a spell ago when I was living over to West Bay- 
 port. My doings was with gasoline though, not 
 electricity. Twas something of an experience. 
 Maybe you d like to hear it." 
 
 " Way I come to be over there on the bay side 
 of the Cape was like this. West Bayport, where 
 my shanty and the big Davidson summer place 
 and the Saunders house was, used to be called 
 Punkhassett which is Injun for The last place 
 the Almighty made and if you ve read the 
 circulars of the land company that s booming 
 Punkhassett this year, you ll remember that the 
 principal attraction of them diggings is the mag 
 nificent water privileges. Twas the water priv 
 ileges that had hooked me. Clams was thick 
 on the flats at low tide, and fish was middling 
 plenty in the bay. I had two weirs set; one a 
 deep-water weir, a half mile beyond the bar, and 
 t other just inside of it that I could drive out to at 
 low water. A two-mile drive twas, too; the tide 
 goes out a long ways over there. I had a power 
 boat seven and a half power gasoline that I 
 kept anchored back of my nighest-in weir in deep 
 water, and a little skiff on shore to row off to her 
 in. 
 
 "The yarn begins one morning when I went 
 down to the shore after clams. I d noticed
 
 THE MARK ON THE DOOR 127 
 
 the signs then. They was stuck up right acrost 
 the path: No trespassing on these premises, 
 and All persons are forbidden crossing this 
 property, under penalty of the law. But land! 
 Fd used that short-cut ever sence I d been in Bay- 
 port which was more n a year and old man 
 Davidson and me was good friends, so I cal lated 
 the signs was intended for boys, and hove ahead 
 without paying much attention to em. Course 
 I knew that the old man and, what was more 
 important, the old lady had gone abroad and 
 that the son was expected down, but that didn t 
 come to me at the time, neither. 
 
 "I was heading for home about eight, with two 
 big dreeners full of clams, and had just climbed 
 the bluff and swung over the fence into the path, 
 when somebody remarks : Here, you ! I jumped 
 and turned round, and there, beating across the 
 field in my direction, was an exhibit which, it 
 turned out later, was ticketed with the name of 
 Alpheus Vandergraff Parker Davidson Allie* 
 for short. 
 
 "And Allie was a good deal of an exhibit, in his 
 way. His togs were cut to fit his spars, and he 
 carried em well no wrinkles at the peak or sag 
 along the boom. His figurehead was more n 
 average regular, and his hair was combed real 
 nice the part in the middle of it looked like it
 
 128 THE "OLD HOME HOUSE" 
 
 had been laid out with a plumb-line. Also, he 
 had on white shoes and glory hallelujah stockings. 
 Altogether, he was alone with the price of admis 
 sion, and what some folks, I s pose, would have 
 called a handsome enough young feller. But I 
 didn t like his eyes; they looked kind of tired, 
 as if they d seen bout all there was to see of some 
 kinds of life. Twenty-four year old eyes hadn t 
 ought to look that way. 
 
 "But I wasn t interested in eyes jest then. All 
 1 could look at was teeth. There they was, a 
 lovely set of em, in the mouth of the ugliest speci 
 men of a bow-legged bulldog that ever tried to 
 hang itself at the end of a chain. Allie was 
 holding t other end of the chain with both hands, 
 and they were full, at that. The dog stood up 
 on his hind legs and pawed the air with his front 
 ones, and his tongue hung out and dripped. You 
 could see he was yearning, just dying, to taste 
 of a middle-aged longshoreman by the name of 
 Obed Nickerson. I stared at the dog, and he 
 stared at me. I don t know which of us was the 
 most interested. 
 
 " Here, you! says Allie again. What are 
 you crossing this field for ? 
 
 "I heard him, but I was too busy counting teeth 
 to pay much attention. You ought to feed that 
 dog, I says, absent-minded like. He s hungry/
 
 THE MARK ON THE DOOR 129 
 
 " Humph! says he. Well, maybe he ll be 
 fed in a minute. Did you see those signs ?" 
 
 " Yes/ says I; I saw em. They re real neat 
 and pretty. 
 
 " Pretty! He fairly choked, he was so mad. 
 Why, you cheeky, long-legged jay, he says, 
 Til What are you crossing this field for? 
 
 " So s to get to t other side of it, I guess, says 
 I. I was riling up a bit myself. You see, when 
 a feller s been mate of a schooner, like I ve been 
 in my day, it don t come easy to be called names. 
 It looked for a minute as if Allie was going to have 
 a fit, but he choked it down. 
 
 "Look here! he says. I know who you are. 
 Just because the gov ner has been soft enough to 
 let you countrymen walk all over him, it don t 
 foller that I m going to be. I m boss here for 
 
 this summer. My name s He told me 
 
 his name, and how his dad had turned the 
 place over to him for the season, and a lot 
 more. I put those signs up, he says, to 
 keep just such fellers as you are off my prop 
 erty. They mean that you ain t to cross the 
 field. Understand ? 
 
 "I understood. I was mad clean through, but 
 I m law-abiding, generally speaking. All right, 
 I says, picking up my dreeners and starting for the 
 farther fence; I won t cross it again.
 
 130 THE "OLD HOME HOUSE" 
 
 "You won t cross it now/ says he. Go back 
 where you come from. 
 
 "That was a grain too much. I told him a few 
 things. He didn t wait for the benediction. 
 Take him, Prince! he says, dropping the chain. 
 
 I i 
 
 HE FAIRLY SOBBED WITH DISAPPOINTMENT. 
 
 "Prince was willing. He fetched a kind of 
 combination hurrah and growl and let out for me 
 full-tilt. I don t feed good fresh clams to dogs as 
 a usual thing, but that mouth had to be filled. 
 I waited till he was almost on me, and then I let
 
 THE MARK ON THE DOOR 131 
 
 drive with one of the dreeners. Prince and a 
 couple of pecks of clams went up in the air like 
 a busted bomb-shell, and I broke for the fence 
 I d started for. I hung on to the other dreener, 
 though, just out of principle. 
 
 "But I had to let go of it, after all. The dog 
 come out of the collision looking like a plate of 
 scrambled eggs, and took after me harder n ever, 
 shedding shells and clam juice something scandal 
 ous. When he was right at my heels I turned 
 and fired the second dreener. And, by Judas, I 
 missed him! 
 
 "Well, principle s all right, but there s times 
 when even the best of us has to hedge. I simply 
 couldn t reach the farther fence, so I made a quick 
 jibe and put for the one behind me. And I 
 couldn t make that, either. Prince was taking 
 mouthfuls of my overalls for appetizers. There 
 was a little pine-tree in the lot, and I give one 
 jump and landed in the middle of it. I went up 
 the rest of the way like I d forgot something, and 
 then I clung onto the top of that tree and panted 
 and swung round in circles, while the dog hopped 
 up and down on his hind legs and fairly sobbed 
 with disapp intment. 
 
 "Allie was rolling on the grass. Oh, dear me! 
 says he, between spasms. That was the funniest 
 thing I ever saw.
 
 132 THE "OLD HOME HOUSE" 
 
 "I d seen lots funnier things myself, but twa n t 
 worth while to argue. Besides, I was busy hang 
 ing onto that tree. Twas an awful little pine and 
 the bendiest one I ever climbed. Allie rolled 
 around a while longer, and then he gets up and 
 comes over. 
 
 " Well, Reuben/ says he, lookin up at me on 
 the roost, you re a good deal handsomer up there 
 than you are on the ground. I guess I ll let you 
 stay there for a while as a lesson to you. Watch 
 him, Prince/ And off he walks. 
 
 You everlasting clothes-pole/ I yells after 
 him, if it wa n t for that dog of yours I d 
 
 "He turns around kind of lazy and says he: 
 Oh, you ve got no kick coming/ he says. I allow 
 you to er ornament my tree, and tain t every 
 hayseed I d let do that/ 
 
 "And away he goes; and for an hour that had 
 no less n sixty thousand minutes in it I clung to 
 that tree like a green apple, with Prince setting 
 open-mouthed underneath waiting for me to get 
 ripe and drop. 
 
 "Just as I was figgering that I was growing 
 fast to the limb, I heard somebody calling my 
 name. I unglued my eyes from the dog and 
 looked up, and there, looking over the fence that 
 I d tried so hard to reach, was Barbara Saunders,
 
 THE MARK ON THE DOOR 133 
 
 Cap n Eben Saunders girl, who lived in the 
 house next door to mine. 
 
 "Barbara was always a pretty girl, and that 
 morning she looked prettier than ever, with her 
 black hair blowing every which way and her 
 black eyes snapping full of laugh. Barbara 
 Saunders in a white shirt-waist and an old, mended 
 skirt could give ten lengths in a beauty race to any 
 craft in silks and satins that ever / see, and beat 
 em hull down at that. 
 
 " Why, Mr. Nickerson! she calls. What 
 are you doing up in that tree ? 
 
 "That was kind of a puzzler to answer offhand, 
 and I don t know what I d have said if friend 
 Allie hadn t hove in sight just then and saved me 
 the trouble. He come strolling out of the woods 
 with a cigarette in his mouth, and when he saw 
 Barbara he stopped short and looked and looked 
 at her. And for a minute she looked at him, 
 and the red come up in her cheeks like a sunrise. 
 "Beg pardon, I m sure/ says Allie, tossing 
 away the cigarette. May I ask if that er 
 deep-sea gentleman in my tree is a friend of 
 yours ? 
 
 "Barbara kind of laughed and dropped her 
 eyes, and said why, yes, I was. 
 
 "By Jove! he s luckier than I thought/ says 
 Allie, never taking his eyes from her face. And
 
 134 THE "OLD HOME HOUSED 
 
 what do they call him, please, when they want 
 him to answer ? That s what he asked, though, 
 mind you, he d said he knew who I was when he 
 first saw me. 
 
 "It s Mr. Nickerson/ says Barbara. He 
 lives in that house there. The one this side of 
 ours. 
 
 "Oh, a neighbor! That s different. Awfully 
 sorry, I m sure. Prince, come here. Er Nick 
 erson, for the lady s sake we ll call it off. You 
 may er vacate the perch/ 
 
 " I waited till he d got a clove-hitch onto Prince. 
 He had to give him one or two welts over the head 
 fore he could do it; the dog acted like he d been 
 cheated. Then I pried myself loose from that 
 blessed limb and shinned down to solid ground. 
 My! but I was b iling inside. Taint pleasant to 
 be made a show afore folks, but twas the feller s 
 condescending what-excuse-you-got-for-living man 
 ners that riled me most. 
 
 " I picked up what was left of the dreeners and 
 walked over to the fence. That field was just 
 sowed, as you might say, with clams. If they 
 ever sprouted twould make a tip-top codfish 
 pasture. 
 
 You see, says Allie, talking to Barbara; 
 the gov nor told me he d been plagued with 
 trespassers, so I thought I d give em a lesson.
 
 THE MARK ON THE DOOR 135 
 
 But neighbors, when they re scarce as ours are, 
 ought to be friends. Don t you think so, Miss 
 
 ? Er Nickerson, says he, introduce me 
 
 to our other neighbor. 
 
 " So I had to do it, though I didn t want to. He 
 turned loose some soft soap about not realizing 
 afore what a beautiful place the Cape was. I 
 thought twas time to go. 
 
 " But Miss Saunders hasn t answered my 
 question yet, says Allie. * Don t you think 
 neighbors ought to be friends, Miss Saunders ? 
 
 "Barbara blushed and laughed and said she 
 guessed they had. Then she walked away. I 
 started to follow, but Allie stopped me. 
 
 "Look here, Nickerson, says he. I let you 
 off this time, but don t try it again; do you hear ? * 
 
 "I hear, says I. You and that hyena of 
 yours have had all the fun this morning. Some 
 day, maybe, the boot ll be on t other leg. 
 
 "Barbara was waiting for me. We walked 
 on together without speaking for a minute. Then 
 I says, to myself like : So that s old man David 
 son s son, is it ? Well, he s the prize peach in the 
 crate, he is! 
 
 "Barbara was thinking, too. He s very nice 
 looking, isn t he? says she. Twas what you d 
 expect a girl to say, but I hated to hear her say it. 
 I went home and marked a big chalk-mark on the
 
 136 THE "OLD HOME HOUSE" 
 
 inside of my shanty door, signifying that I had a 
 debt so pay some time or other. 
 
 "So that s how I got acquainted with Allie 
 V. P. Davidson. And, what s full as important, 
 that s how he got acquainted with Barbara 
 Saunders. 
 
 "Shutting an innocent canary-bird up in the 
 same room with a healthy cat is a more or less 
 risky proposition for the bird. Same way, if you 
 take a pretty country girl who s been to sea with 
 her dad most of the time and tied to the apron- 
 strings of a deef old aunt in a house three miles 
 from nowhere you take that girl, I say, and then 
 fetch along, as next-door neighbor, a good-looking 
 young shark like Allie, with a hogshead of money 
 and a blame sight too much experience, and 
 that s a risky proposition for the girl. 
 
 "Allie played his cards well; he d set into a 
 good many similar games afore, I judge. He 
 begun by doing little favors for Phoebe Ann she 
 was the deef aunt I mentioned and twa n t 
 long afore he was as solid with the old lady as a 
 kedge-anchor. He had a way of dropping into 
 the Saunders house for a drink of water or a slab 
 of that delicious apple-pie, and with every drop 
 he got better acquainted with Barbara. Cap n 
 Eben was on a v yage to Buenos Ayres and 
 wouldn t be home till fall, twa n t likely.
 
 THE MARK ON THE DOOR 137 
 
 **I didn t see a great deal of what was going 
 on, being too busy with my fishweirs and clam 
 ming to notice. Allie and me wa n t exactly 
 David and Jonathan, owing, I judge, to our 
 informal introduction to each other. But I used 
 to see him scooting round in his launch twenty- 
 five foot, she was, with a little mahogany cabin 
 and the land knows what and the servants at 
 the big house told me yarns about his owning 
 a big steam-yacht, with a sailing-master and 
 crew, which was cruising round Newport some- 
 wheres. 
 
 "But, busy as I was, I see enough to make me 
 worried. There was a good deal of whispering 
 over the Saunders back gate after supper, and 
 once, when I come up over the bluff from the 
 shore sudden, they was sitting together on a rock 
 and he had his arm round her waist. I dropped 
 a hint to Phoebe Ann, but she shut me up quicker n 
 a snap-hinge match-box. Allie had charmed 
 auntie all right. And so it drifted along till 
 September. 
 
 "One Monday evening about the middle of the 
 month I went over to Phoebe Ann s to borrow 
 some matches. Barbara wasn t in gone out to 
 lock up the hens, or some such fool excuse. But 
 Phoebe was busting full of joy. Cap n Eben had 
 arrived in New York a good deal sooner n was ex-
 
 138 THE "OLD HOME HOUSE" 
 
 pected and would be home on Thursday morning. 
 
 " He s going from Boston to Provincetown 
 on the steamer, Wednesday, says Phoebe. He s 
 got some business over there. Then he s coming 
 home from Provincetown on the early train. 
 Ain t that splendid ? 
 
 "I thought twas splendid for more reasons 
 than one, and I went out feeling good. But as I 
 come round the corner of the house there was 
 somebody by the back gate, and I heard a girl s 
 voice sayin : Oh, no, no! I can t! I can t! 
 
 "If I hadn t trod on a stick maybe I d hive 
 heard more, but the racket broke up the party. 
 Barbara come hurrying past me into the house, 
 and by the light from the back door, I see her 
 face. Twas white as a clam-shell, and she 
 looked frightened to death. 
 
 "Thinks I: That s funny! It s a providence 
 Eben s coming home so soon. 
 
 "And the next day I saw her again, and she 
 was just as white and wouldn t look me in the 
 eye. Wednesday, though, I felt better, for the 
 servants on the Davidson place t-4d me that 
 Allie had gone to Boston on the morning train 
 to be gone for good, and that they was going to 
 shut up the house and haul up the launch in a 
 day or so. 
 
 "Early that afternoon* as I was coming from
 
 THE MARK ON THE DOOR 139 
 
 my shanty to the bluff on my way to the shore 
 after dinner, I noticed a steam-yacht at anchor 
 two mile or so off the bar. She must have come 
 there sence I got in, and I wondered whose she 
 was. Then I see a dingey with three men aboard 
 rowing in, and I walked down the beach to meet 
 
 em. 
 
 "Sometimes I think there is such things as 
 what old Parson Danvers used to call dispen 
 sations/ This was one of em. There was a 
 feller in a uniform cap steering the dingey, and, 
 b lieve it or not, I ll be everlastingly keelhauled 
 if he didn t turn out to be Ben Henry, who was 
 second mate with me on the old Seafoam. He 
 was surprised enough to see me, and glad, too, 
 but he looked sort of worried. 
 
 "Well, Ben, says I, after we had shook hands, 
 well, Ben, I says, my shanty ain t exactly the 
 United States Hotel for gilt paint and bill of fare, 
 but I have got eight or ten gallons of home-made 
 cherry rum and some terbacker and an extry 
 pipe. You fall into my wake. 
 
 " I d like to, Obed, he says; I d like to 
 almighty well, but I ve got to go up to the store* 
 if there is such a thing in this metropolus, and 
 buy some stuff that I forgot to get in Newport. 
 You see, we got orders to sail in a tearing hurry, 
 and
 
 no THE "OLD HOME HOUSE 
 
 "Send one of them fo mast hands to the 
 store/ says I. You got to come with me. 
 
 "He hemmed and hawed a while, but he was 
 dry, and I shook the cherry-rum jug at him, 
 figuratively speaking, so finally he give in. 
 
 You buy so and so/ says he to his men, 
 passing em a ten-dollar bill. And mind, you 
 don t know nothing. If anybody asks, remem 
 ber that yacht s the Mermaid M-U-R-M-A-D-Ey 
 he says, and she belongs to Mr. Jones, of Mobile, 
 Georgia. 
 
 "So the men went away, and me and Ben 
 headed for my shanty, where we moored abreast 
 of each other at the table, with a jug between us 
 for a buoy, so s to speak. We talked old times 
 and spun yarns, and the tide went out in the jug 
 consider ble sight faster than twas ebbing on 
 the flats. After a spell I asked him about the 
 man that owned the yacht. 
 
 " Who? Oh er Brown? he says. Why, 
 he s 
 
 " Brown? says I. Thought you said twas 
 Jones ? 
 
 "Well, that kind of upset him, and he took 
 some cherry-rum to grease his memory. Then I 
 asked more questions and he tried to answer 
 em, and got worse tangled than ever. Finally 
 I had to laugh.
 
 THE MARK ON THE DOOR 141 
 
 " Look here, Ben, says I. You can t fetch 
 port on that tack. The truth s ten mile astern 
 of you. Who does own that yacht, anyway ? 
 
 "He looked at me mighty solemn cherry- 
 rum solemn. Obed, he says, you re a good 
 feller. Don t you give me away, now, or I ll lose 
 my berth. The man that owns that yacht s 
 named Davidson, and he s got a summer place 
 right in this town. 
 
 "Davidson! says I. Davidson? Not young 
 Allie Davidson ? 
 
 " That s him, says he. And he s the blankety 
 blankest meanest low-down cub on earth. There! 
 I feel some better. Give me another drink to 
 take the taste of him out of my mouth. 
 
 "But young Davidson s gone to Boston/ I 
 says. Went this morning. 
 
 " That be hanged! says Ben. All I know 
 is that I got a despatch from him at Newport on 
 Monday afternoon, telling me to have the yacht 
 abreast this town at twelve o clock to-night, 
 cause he was coming off to her then in his launch 
 with a friend. Friend! And he laughed and 
 winked his starboard eye. 
 
 "I didn t say much, being too busy thinking, 
 but Ben went on telling about other cruises with 
 friends. Oh, a steam-yacht can be a first- 
 class imitation of hell if the right imp owns her.
 
 142 THE "OLD HOME HOUSE" 
 
 Henry got speaking of one time down along the 
 Maine coast. 
 
 " But/ says I, referring to what he was telling, 
 if she was such a nice girl and come from such 
 nice folks, how 
 
 " How do I know? says he. Promises to 
 marry and such kind of lies, I s pose. And the 
 plain fact is that he s really engaged to marry a 
 swell girl in Newport. 
 
 "He told me her name and a lot more about 
 her. I tried to remember the most of it, but 
 my head was whirling and not from cherry 
 rum, either. All I could think was: Obed, 
 it s up to you! You ve got to do something. 
 
 "I was mighty glad when the sailors hailed 
 from the shore and Ben had to go. He most 
 cried when he said good-by, and went away 
 stepping high and bringing his heels down hard. 
 I watched the dingey row off the tide was out. 
 so there was barely water for her to get clear 
 and then I went back home to think. And I 
 thought all the afternoon. 
 
 "Two and two made four, anyway I could 
 add it up, but twas all suspicion and no real 
 proof, that was the dickens of it. I couldn t 
 speak to Phoebe Ann; she wouldn t b lieve me 
 if I did. I couldn t telegraph Cap n Eben at 
 Provincetown to come home that night; I d
 
 THE MARK ON THE DOOR 143 
 
 have to tell him the whole thing and I knew his 
 temper, so, for Barbara s sake, twouldn t do. I 
 couldn t be at the shore to stop the launch leaving. 
 What right had I to stop another man s launch, 
 even 
 
 "No, twas up to me, and I thought and thought 
 till after supper-time. And then I had a plan 
 a risky chance, but a chance, just the same. I 
 went up to the store and bought four feet of 
 medium-size rubber hose and some rubber tape, 
 same as they sell to bicycle fellers in the summer. 
 Twas almost dark when I got back in sight of 
 my shanty, and instead of going to it I jumped 
 that board fence that me and Prince had negoti 
 ated for, hustled along the path past the notice 
 boards ,and went down the bluff on t other side 
 of Davidson s p int. And there in the deep 
 hole by the end of the little pier, out of sight of 
 the house on shore, was Allie s launch. By 
 what little light there was left I could see the 
 brass rails shining. 
 
 "But I didn t stop to admire em. I give one 
 look around. Nobody was in sight. Then I ran 
 down the pier and jumped aboard. Almost the 
 first thing I put my hand on was what I was look 
 ing for the bilge-pump. Twas a small affair, 
 that you could lug around in one hand, but mighty 
 handy for keeping a boat of that kind dry.
 
 144 T HE " OLD HOME HOUSE" 
 
 "I fitted one end of my hose to the lower end 
 of that pump and wrapped rubber tape around the 
 j int till she sucked when I tried her over the side. 
 Then I turned on the cocks in the gasoline pipes 
 fore and aft, and noticed that the carbureter feed 
 cup was chock full. Then I was ready for busi 
 ness. 
 
 "I went for ard, climbing over the little low 
 cabin that was just big enough for a man to crawl 
 into, till I reached the brass cap in the deck over 
 the gasoline-tank. Then I unscrewed the cap, 
 run my hose down into the tank, and commenced 
 to pump good fourteen-cents-a-gallon gasoline 
 overboard to beat the cars. Twas a thirty- 
 gallon tank, and full up. I begun to think I d 
 never get her empty, but I did, finally. I pumped 
 her dry. Then I screwed the cap on again and 
 went home, taking Allie s bilge-pump with me, 
 for I couldn t stop to unship the hose. The tide 
 was coming in fast. 
 
 "At nine o clock that night I was in my skiff", 
 rowing off to where my power-boat laid in deep 
 water back of the bar. When I reached her I 
 made the skiff" fast astern, lit a lantern, which I 
 put in a locker under a thwart, and set still in 
 the pitch-dark, smoking and waiting. 
 
 " Twas a long, wearisome wait. There was a 
 uo thwest wind coming up, and the waves were
 
 THE MARK ON THE DOOR 145 
 
 running pretty choppy on the bar. All I could 
 think of was that gasoline. Was there enough 
 in the pipes and the feed cup on that launch to 
 carry her out to where I was ? Or was there too 
 much, and would she make the yacht, after all ? 
 
 "It got to be eleven o clock. Tide was full at 
 twelve. I was a pretty good candidate for the 
 crazy house by this t?me. I d listened till my 
 ear-drums felt slack, like they needed reefing. 
 And then at last I heard her coming chuff-chuffl 
 chufchuffl chuff-chuffl 
 
 "And how she did come! She walked up 
 abreast of me, went past me, a hundred yards 
 or so off. Thinks I: It s all up. He s going to 
 make it. 
 
 "And then, all at once, the chuff-chuff-ing 
 stopped. Started up and stopped again. I gave 
 a hurrah, in my mind, pulled the skiff up along 
 side and jumped into her, taking the lantern with 
 me, under my coat. Then I set the light between 
 my feet, picked up the oars and started rowing. 
 
 " I rowed quiet as I could, but he heard me fore 
 I got to him. I heard a scrambling noise off 
 ahead, and then a shaky voice hollers: Hello! 
 who s that ? 
 
 It s me, says I, rowing harder n ever. Who 
 are you ? What s the row ? 
 
 "There was more scrambling and a slam, like
 
 I 4 6 THE "OLD HOME HOUSE" 
 
 a door shutting. In another two minutes I was 
 alongside the launch and held up my lantern. 
 Allie was there, fussing with his engine. And he 
 was all alone. 
 
 "Alone he was, I say, fur s a body could see, 
 but he was mighty shaky and frightened. Also, 
 side of him, on the cushions, was a girl s jacket, 
 and I thought I d seen that jacket afore. 
 
 " Hello! says I. Is that you, Mr. Davidson ? 
 Thought you d gone to Boston ? 
 
 "Changed my mind, he says. Got any gas 
 oline ? 
 
 "What you doing off here this time of night ? 
 I says. 
 
 "Going out to my He stopped. I s pose 
 
 the truth choked him. I was going to Province- 
 town, he went on. Got any gasoline ? 
 
 "What in the nation you starting to Province- 
 town in the middle of the night for ? I asks, 
 innocent as could be. 
 
 "Oh, thunder! I had business there, that s 
 all. Got any gasoline? 
 
 "I made my skiff s painter fast to a cleat on the 
 launch and climbed aboard. Gasoline? says I. 
 Gasoline? Why, yes; I ve got some gasoline 
 over on my power-boat out yonder. Has yours 
 give out ? I should think you d filled your tank 
 fore you left home on such a trip as Province-
 
 THE MARK ON THE DOOR 147 
 
 town. Maybe the pipe s plugged or something. 
 Have you looked ? And I caught hold of the 
 handle of the cabin-door. 
 
 "He jumped and grabbed me by the arm. 
 "Tain t plugged, he yells, sharp. The tank s 
 empty, I tell you. 
 
 "He kept pulling me away from the cabin, but 
 I hung onto the handle. 
 
 " You can t be too sure, I says. This door s 
 locked. Give me the key. 
 
 "I I left the key at home, he says. Don t 
 waste time. Go over to your boat and fetch me 
 some gasoline. I ll pay you well for it/ 
 
 "Then I was sartin of what I suspicioned. The 
 cabin was locked, but not with the key. That 
 was in the keyhole. The door was bolted on the 
 inside. 
 
 "All right, says I. Til sell you the gasoline, 
 but you ll have to go with me in the skiff to get it. 
 Get your anchor over or this craft ll drift to 
 Eastham. Hurry up. 
 
 "He didn t like the idee of leaving the launch, 
 but I wouldn t hear of anything else. While he 
 was heaving the anchor I commenced to talk to 
 him. 
 
 "I didn t know but what you d started for 
 foreign parts to meet that Newport girl you re 
 going to marry, I says, and I spoke good and loud.
 
 I 4 8 THE "OLD HOME HOUSE" 
 
 "He jumped so I thought he d fall over 
 board. 
 
 " What s that? he shouts. 
 "Why, that girl you re engaged to/ says I. 
 
 Miss and I yelled her name, and how she d 
 
 gone abroad with his folks, and all. 
 
 "Shut up! he whispers, waving his hands, 
 frantic. " Don t stop to lie. Hurry up! 
 
 ""Tain t a lie. Oh, I know about it! I hol 
 lers, as if he was deef. I meant to be heard by 
 him and anybody else that might be interested. 
 I give a whole lot more particulars, too. He 
 fairly shoved me into the skiff, after a spell. 
 
 " Now, he says, so mad he could hardly speak, 
 stop your lying and row, will you! 
 
 "I was willing to row then. I cal lated I d 
 done some missionary work by this time. Allie s 
 guns was spiked, if I knew Barbara Saunders. I 
 p inted the skiff the way she d ought to go and laid 
 to the oars. 
 
 "My plan had been to get him aboard the 
 skiff and row somewheres ashore, if I could. 
 But twas otherwise laid out for me. The wind 
 was blowing pretty fresh, and the skiff was down 
 by the stern, so s the waves kept knocking her 
 nose round. Twas dark n a pocket, too. I 
 couldn t tell where I was going. 
 
 "Allie got more fidgety every minute. Ain t
 
 THE MARK ON THE DOOR 149 
 
 we most there ? he asks. And then he gives a 
 screech. What s that ahead ? 
 
 " I turned to see, and as I done it the skiff s bow 
 slid up on something. I give an awful yank at 
 the port oar; she slewed and tilted; a wave 
 caught her underneath, and the next thing I knew 
 me and Allie and the skiff was under water, 
 bound for the bottom. We d run acrost one of 
 the guy-ropes of my fish-weir. 
 
 "This wa n t in the program. I hit sand with 
 a bump and pawed up for air. When I got my 
 head out I see a water-wheel doing business close 
 along-side of me. It was Allie. 
 
 " Help! he howls. Help! I m drowning! 
 
 "I got him by the collar, took one stroke and 
 bumped against the weir-nets. You know what 
 a fish-weir s like, don t you, Mr. Brown ? a kind 
 of pound, made of nets hung on ropes between 
 poles. 
 
 " Help! yells Allie, clawing the nets. I 
 can t swim in rough water! 
 
 "You might have known he couldn t. It 
 looked sort of dubious for a jiffy. Then I had 
 an idee. I dragged him to the nighest weir-pole. 
 Climb! I hollers in his ear. Climb that pole. 
 
 "He done it, somehow, digging his toes into 
 the net and going up like a cat up a tree. When 
 he got to the top he hung acrost the rope and shooi.
 
 1 5 o THE " OLD HOME HOUSE " 
 
 "Hang on there! says I. I m going after 
 the boat. And I struck out. He yelled to me 
 not to leave him, but the weir had give me my 
 bearings, and I was bound for my power-boat. 
 Twas a tough swim, but I made it, and climbed 
 aboard, not feeling any too happy. Losing a 
 good skiff was more n I d figgered on. 
 
 "Soon s I got some breath I hauled anchor, 
 started up my engine and headed back for the 
 weir. I run along-side of it, keeping a good 
 lookout for guy-ropes, and when I got abreast 
 of that particular pole I looked for Allie. He 
 was setting on the rope, a-straddle of the pole, 
 and hanging onto the top of it like it owed him 
 money. He looked a good deal more comfortable 
 than I was when he and Prince had treed me. 
 And the remembrance of that time come back 
 to me, and one of them things they call inspira 
 tion come with it. He was four feet above water, 
 twas full tide then, and if he set still he was safe 
 as a church. 
 
 "So instead of running in after him, I slowed 
 way down and backed off. 
 
 " Come here! he yells. Come here, you 
 fool, and take me aboard. 
 
 " Oh, I don t know/ says I. You re safe 
 there, and, even if the yacht folks don t come 
 hunting for you by and by which I cal late they
 
 THE MARK ON THE DOOR 151 
 
 l the tide ll be low enough in five hours or 
 so, so s you can walk ashore. 
 
 " What what do you mean ? he says. Ain t 
 you goin to take me off? 
 
 " I was, says I, but I ve changed my plans. 
 And, Mr. Allie Vander-what s-your-name David 
 son, there s other things low-down, mean things 
 planned for this night that ain t going to come 
 off, either. Understand that, do you ? 
 
 "He understood, I guess. He didn t answer 
 at all. Only gurgled, like he d swallered some 
 thing the wrong way. 
 
 "Then the beautiful tit for tat of the whole 
 business come to me, and I couldn t help rubbing 
 it in a little. As a sartin acquaintance of mine 
 once said to me, I says, you look a good deal 
 handsomer up there than you do in a boat. 
 
 You you etcetery and so forth, continued 
 in our next! says he, or words to that effect. 
 
 That s all right, says I, putting on the power. 
 You ve got no kick coming. I allow you to 
 er ornament my weir-pole, and tain t every 
 dude I d let do that. 
 
 "And I went away and, as the Fifth Reader 
 used to say, let him alone in his glory. 
 
 "I went back to the launch, pulled up her 
 anchor and took her in tow. I towed her in to 
 her pier, made her fast and then left her for a
 
 15* THE "OLD HOME HOUSE" 
 
 while. When I come back the little cabin-door 
 was open and the girl s jacket was gone. 
 
 "Then I walked up the path to the Saunders 
 house and it done me good to see a light in Bar 
 bara s window. I set on the steps of that house 
 until morning keeping watch. And in the morning 
 the yacht was gone and the weir-pole was vacant, 
 and Cap n Eben Saunders come on the first train. 
 
 "So s that s all there is of it. Allie hasn t 
 come back to Bayport sence, and the last I heard 
 he d married that Newport girl; she has my 
 sympathy, if that s any comfort to her. 
 
 "And Barbara ? Well, for a long time she d 
 turn white every time I met her. But, of course, 
 I kept my mouth shut, and she went to sea next 
 v yage with her dad. And now I hear she s en 
 gaged to a nice feller up to Boston. 
 
 "Oh, yes one thing more. When I got back 
 to my shanty that morning I wiped the chalk- 
 mark off the door. I kind of figgered that I d 
 paid that debt, with back interest added."
 
 THE LOVE OF LOBELIA ANKINS
 
 THE LOVE OF LOB ELIA ANKINS 
 
 Obed s yarn being done, and friend Davidson 
 done too, and brown at that, Peter T. passed 
 around another relay of cigars and we lit up. 
 Twas Cap n En that spoke first. 
 
 "Love s a queer disease, anyway," says he. 
 "Ain t it, now? Twould puzzle you and me 
 to figger out what that Saunders girl see to like 
 in the Davidson critter. It must be a dreadful 
 responsible thing to be so fascinating. 1 never 
 felt that responsibleness but once except when 
 I got married, of course and that was a good 
 many years ago, when I was going to sea on 
 long v yages, and was cruising around the East 
 Indies, in the latitude of our new troubles, the 
 Philippines. 
 
 "I put in about three months on one of them 
 little coral islands off that way once. Hottest 
 corner in the Lord s creation, I cal late, and the 
 laziest and sleepiest hole ever I struck. All a 
 feller feels like doing in them islands is just to 
 lay on his back under a palm tree all day and eat 
 custard-apples, and such truck. 
 
 155
 
 156 THE "OLD HOME HOUSE" 
 
 "Way I come to be there was like this: I was 
 fo mast hand on a Boston hooker bound to Singa 
 pore after rice. The skipper s name was Perkins, 
 Malachi C. Perkins, and he was the meanest 
 man that ever wore a sou -wester. I ve had the 
 pleasure of telling him so sence twas in Suri 
 nam long in 72. Well, anyhow, Perkins fed 
 us on spiled salt junk and wormy hard-tack all 
 the way out, and if a feller dast to hint that the 
 same wa n t precisely what you d call Parker 
 House fare, why the skipper would knock him down 
 with a marline-spike and the first mate would 
 kick him up and down the deck. Twan t a 
 pretty performance to look at, but it beat the 
 world for taking the craving for fancy cooking 
 out of a man. 
 
 "Well, when I got to Singapore I was nothing 
 but skin and bone, and considerable of the skin 
 had been knocked off by the marline-spike and 
 the mate s boots. I d shipped for the v yage 
 out and back, but the first night in port I slipped 
 over the side, swum ashore, and never set eyes 
 on old Perkins again till that time in Surinam, 
 years afterward. 
 
 "I knocked round them Singapore docks for 
 much as a month, hoping to get a berth on some 
 other ship, but twan t no go. I fell in with a 
 Britisher named Hammond, Ammond, he called
 
 THE LOVE OF LOBELIA 157 
 
 it, and as he was on the same hunt that I was, 
 we kept each other comp ny. We done odd 
 jobs now n again, and slept in sailors lodging 
 houses when we had the price, and under bridges 
 or on hemp bales when we hadn t. I was too 
 proud to write home for money, and Hammond 
 didn t have no home to write to, I cal late. 
 
 "But luck 11 turn if you give it time enough. 
 One night Hammond come hurrying round to 
 my sleeping-room that is to say, my hemp bale 
 and gives me a shake, and says he: 
 
 Turn out, you mud ead, I ve got you a 
 berth/ 
 
 "Aw, go west! says I, and turned over to 
 go to sleep again. But he pulled me off the 
 bale by the leg, and that woke me up so I sensed 
 what he was saying. Seems he d found a feller 
 that wanted to ship a couple of fo mast hands 
 on a little trading schooner for a trip over to the 
 Java Sea. 
 
 "Well, to make a long story short, we shipped 
 with this feller, whose name was Lazarus. I 
 cal late if the Lazarus in Scriptur had been up 
 to as many tricks and had come as nigh being a 
 thief as our Lazarus was, he wouldn t have been 
 so poor. Ourn was a shrewd rascal and nothing 
 more nor less than a pearl poacher. He didn t 
 tell us that till after we sot sail, but we was so
 
 158 THE "OLD HOME HOUSE" 
 
 desperate I don t know as twould have made 
 much difference if he had. 
 
 "We cruised round for a spell, sort of pros 
 pecting, and then we landed at a little one-horse 
 coral island, where there wa n t no inhabitants, 
 but where we was pretty dead sartin there was 
 pearl oyster banks in the lagoon. There was 
 five of us on the schooner, a Dutchman named 
 Rhinelander, a Coolie cook and Lazarus and 
 Hammond and me. We put up a slab shanty 
 on shore and went to work pearl fishing, keep 
 ing one eye out for Dutch gunboats, and always 
 having a sago palm ready to split open so s, if 
 we got caught, we could say we was after sago. 
 
 "Well, we done fairly good at the pearl fishing; 
 got together quite a likely mess of pearls, and, 
 as twas part of the agreement that the crew had 
 a certain share in the stake, why, Hammond 
 and me was figgering that we was going to make 
 enough to more n pay us for our long spell of 
 starving at Singapore. Lazaras was feeling purty 
 middling chipper, the cook was feeding us high, 
 and everything looked lovely. 
 
 "Rhinelander and the Coolie and the skipper 
 used to sleep aboard the boat, but Hammond 
 and me liked to sleep ashore in the shanty. For 
 one thing, the bunks on the schooner wa n t 
 none too clean, and the Coolie snored so that
 
 THE LQVE OF LOBELIA 159 
 
 he d shake the whole cabin, and start me dreaming 
 about cyclones, and cannons firing, and lions 
 roaring, and all kind of foolishness. I always 
 did hate a snorer. 
 
 "One morning me and Hammond come out 
 of the shanty, and, lo and behold you! there 
 wa n t no schooner to be seen. That everlast 
 ing Lazarus had put up a job on us, and had 
 sneaked off in the night with the cook and the 
 Dutchman, and took our share of the pearls with 
 him. I s pose he d cal lated to do it from the 
 very first. Anyway, there we was, marooned 
 on that little two-for-a-cent island. 
 
 "The first day we didn t do much but cuss 
 Lazarus up hill and down dale. Hammond was 
 the best at that kind of business ever I see. He 
 invented more n four hundred new kind of names 
 for the gang on the schooner, and every one of 
 em was brimstone-blue. We had fish lines in 
 the shanty, and there was plenty of water on the 
 island, so we knew we wouldn t starve to death 
 nor die of thirst, anyhow. 
 
 "I ve mentioned that twas hot in them parts? 
 Well, that island was the hottest of em all. Whew! 
 Don t talk! And, more n that, the weather was 
 the kind that makes you feel it s a barrel of work 
 to live. First day we fished and slept. Next 
 day we fished less and slept more. Third day twas
 
 i6o THE "OLD HOME HOUSE" 
 
 too everlasting hot even to sleep, so we set round 
 in the shade and fought flies and jawed each 
 other. Main trouble was who was goin to git 
 the meals. Land, how we did miss that Coolie 
 cook! 
 
 "W y don t yer get to work and cook some 
 thing fit to heat? says Hammond. "Ere I broke 
 my bloomin back auling in the fish, and you 
 doing nothing but anging around and letting 
 em dry hup in the eat. Get to work and cook. 
 Blimed if I ain t sick of these ere custard apples! 
 "Go and cook yourself, says I. I didn t 
 sign articles to be cook for no Johnny Bull! 
 
 "Well, we jawed back and forth for an hour, 
 maybe more. Two or three times we got up 
 to have it out, but twas too hot to fight, so we 
 set down again. Fin lly we eat some supper, 
 custard apples and water, and turned in. 
 
 "But twas too hot to sleep much, and I got 
 up about three o clock in the morning and went 
 out and set down on the beach in the moonlight. 
 Pretty soon out comes Hammond and sets down 
 alongside and begins to give the weather a gen 
 eral overhauling, callin it everything he could 
 lay tongue to. Pretty soon he breaks off* in the 
 the middle of a nine-j inted swear word and sings 
 out: 
 
 " Am I goin crazy, or is that a schooner?
 
 THE LOVE OF LOBELIA 161 
 
 "I looked out into the moonlight, and there, 
 sure enough, was a schooner, about a mile off the 
 island, and coming dead on. First-off we thought 
 twas Lazarus coming back, but pretty soon we 
 see twas a considerable smaller boat than his. 
 
 "We forgot all about how hot it was and hustled 
 out on the reef right at the mouth of the lagoon. 
 I had a coat on a stick, and I waved it for a sig 
 nal, and Hammond set to work building a bon 
 fire. He got a noble one blazing and then him 
 and me stood and watched the schooner. 
 
 "She was acting dreadful queer. First she d 
 go ahead on one tack and then give a heave over 
 and come about with a bang, sails flapping and 
 everything of a shake; then she d give another 
 slat and go off another way; but mainly she 
 kept right on toward the island. 
 
 "Wat s the matter aboard there? says Ham 
 mond. Is hall ands drunk? 
 
 "She s abandoned, says I. That s what s 
 the matter. There ain t nobody aboard of her. 
 
 "Then we both says, Salvage . and shook 
 hands. 
 
 "The schooner came nearer and nearer. It 
 begun to look as if she d smash against the rocks 
 in front of us, but she didn t. When she got 
 opposite the mouth of the lagoon she heeled over 
 on a new tack and sailed in between the rocks
 
 i6i THE "OLD HOME HOUSE" 
 
 as pretty as anything ever you see. Then she 
 run aground on the beach just about a quarter 
 of a mile from the shanty. 
 
 "Twas early morning when we climbed aboard 
 of her. I thought Lazarus schooner was dirty, 
 but this one was nothing but dirt. Dirty sails, 
 all patches, dirty deck, dirty everything. 
 
 Won t get much salvage on this bally tub, 
 says Hammond; she s one of them nigger fish 
 boats, that s w at she is. 
 
 "I was kind of skittish about going below, 
 fraid there might be some dead folks, but Ham 
 mond went. In a minute or so up he comes, 
 looking scary. 
 
 There s something mighty queer down there,* 
 says he: kind of w eezing like a puffing pig/ 
 
 " Wheezing your grandmother! says I, but 
 I went and listened at the hatch. Twas a funny 
 noise I heard, but I knew what it was in a minute; 
 I d heard too much of it lately to forget it, right 
 away. 
 
 "It s snoring/ says I; somebody snoring. 
 
 "Eavens! says Hammond, you don t s pose 
 it s that ere Coolie come back ? 
 
 "No, no! says I. Where s your common 
 sense? The cook snored bass; this critter s 
 snoring suppraner, and mighty poor suppraner 
 at that.
 
 THE LOVE OF LOBELIA 163 
 
 "Well/ says he, ere goes to wake im hup! 
 And he commenced to holler, Ahoy! and Belay, 
 there! down the hatch. 
 
 "First thing we heard was a kind of thump 
 like somebody jumping out er bed. Then foot 
 steps, running like; then up the hatchway comes 
 a sight I shan t forget if I live to be a hundred. 
 
 "Twas a woman, middling old, with a yeller 
 face all wrinkles, and a chin and nose like Punch. 
 She was dressed in a gaudy old calico gown, and 
 had earrings in her ears. She give one look 
 round at the schooner and the island. Then she 
 see us and let out a whoop like a steam whistle. 
 
 "Mulligatawny Sacremento merlasess! she 
 yells. Course that wa n t what she said, but 
 that s what it sounded like. Then, fore Ham 
 mond could stop her, she run for him and give 
 him a rousing big hug. He was the most sur 
 prised man ever you see, stood there like a wooden 
 image. I commenced to lafF, but the next minute 
 the woman come for me and hugged me, too. 
 
 "Fectionate old gal, says Hammond, grinning. 
 
 "The critter in the calirco gown was going 
 through the craziest pantomime ever was; p int- 
 in off to sea and then down to deck and then up 
 to the sails. I didn t catch on for a minute, but 
 Hammond did. Says he: 
 
 "Showing us w ere this ere palatial yacht
 
 1 64 THE "OLD HOME HOUSE" 
 
 come from. Ad a rough passage, it looks like! 
 "Then the old gal commenced to get excited. 
 She p inted over the side and made motions like 
 rowing. Then she p inted down the hatch and 
 shut her eyes and purtended to snore. After that 
 she rowed again, all the time getting madder and 
 madder, with her little black eyes a-snapping 
 like fire coals and stomping her feet and shaking 
 her fists. Fin lly she finished up with a regular 
 howl, you might say, of rage. 
 
 The crew took to the boat and left er asleep 
 below, says Hammond. "Oly scissors: they re 
 in for a lively time if old Nutcrackers ere ever 
 catches em, ey ? 
 
 "Well, we went over the schooner and exam 
 ined everything, but there wa n t nothing of any 
 value nowheres. Twas a reg lar nigger fishing 
 boat, with dirt and cockroaches by the pailful. 
 At last we went ashore agin and up to the shanty, 
 taking the old woman with us. After eating 
 some more of them tiresome custard apples for 
 breakfast, Hammond and me went down to look 
 over the schooner agin. We found she d started 
 a plank running aground on the beach, and that 
 twould take us a week to get her afloat and 
 watertight. 
 
 "While we was doing this the woman come 
 down and went aboard. Pretty soon we see
 
 THE LOVE OF LOBELIA 165 
 
 her going back to the shanty with her arms full 
 of bundles and truck. We didn t think any 
 thing of it then, but when we got home at noon, 
 there was the best dinner ever you see all ready 
 for us. Fried fish, and some kind of beans 
 Booked up with peppers, and tea real store 
 tea and a lot more things. Land, how we did 
 eat! We kept smacking our lips and rubbing 
 our vests to show we was enjoying everything, 
 and the old gal kept bobbing her head and grin 
 ning like one of them dummies you wind up 
 with a key. 
 
 "Well/ says Hammond, we ve got a cook at 
 
 last. Ain t we, old old Blimed if we ve 
 
 got a name for er yet! Here! says he, pointing 
 to me. Looky here, missis! Edge! Edge! 
 that s im! Ammond! Ammond! that s me. 
 me. Now, oo are you? 
 
 "She rattled off a name that had more double 
 j ints in it than an eel. 
 
 "Lordy! says I; we never can larn that 
 rigamarole. I tell you! She looks for all the 
 world like old A nt Lobelia Fosdick at home 
 down on Cape Cod. Let s call her that. 
 
 "She looks to me like the mother of a oyster- 
 man I used to know in Liverpool. Is name was 
 Ankins. Let s split the difference and call er 
 X/obelia Ankins.
 
 166 THE "OLD HOME HOUSE" 
 
 "So we done it. 
 
 "Well, Hammond and me pounded and patched 
 away at the schooner for the next three or four 
 days, taking plenty of time off to sleep in, count 
 of the heat, but getting along fairly well. 
 
 "Lobelia Ankins cooked and washed dishes 
 for us. She done some noble cooking, specially 
 as we wa n t partic lar, but we could see she had 
 a temper to beat the Old Scratch. If anything 
 got burned, or if the kittle upset, she d howl 
 and stomp and scatter things worse than a cyclone, 
 
 "I reckon twas about the third day that 1 
 noticed she was getting sweet on Hammond. She 
 was giving him the best of all the vittles, and 
 used to set at the table and look at him, softer n 
 and sweeter n a bucket of molasses. Used to 
 walk longside of him, too, and look up in his 
 face and smile. I could see that he noticed it 
 and that it was worrying him a heap. One day 
 he says to me: 
 
 "Edge, says he, I b lieve that ere chromo 
 of a Lobelia Ankins is getting soft on me. 
 
 "Course she is, says I; I see that a long 
 spell ago. 
 
 "But what ll I do? says he. A woman like 
 er is a desp rate character. If we never git 
 hashore she might be for lugging me to the church 
 anci marrying me by main force.
 
 THE LOVE OF LOBELIA 167 
 
 "Then you ll have to marry her, for all I see/ 
 *ays I. You shouldn t be so fascinating/ 
 
 "That made him mad and he went off jawing 
 to himself. 
 
 "The next day we got the schooner patched 
 up and off the shoal and Alongside Lazarus old 
 landing wharf by the shanty. Thers was a little 
 more tinkering to be done fore she was ready 
 for sea, and we cal lated to do it that afternoon. 
 
 "After dinner Hammond went down to the 
 spring after some water and Lobelia Ankins 
 went along with him. I laid down in the shade 
 for a snooze, but I hadn t much more than settled 
 myself comfortably when I heard a yell and 
 somebody running. I jumped up just in time 
 to see Hammond come busting through the 
 bushes, lickety smash, with Lobelia after him, 
 yelling like an Injun. Hammond wa n t yell 
 ing; he was saving his breath for running. 
 
 "They wa n t in sight more n a minute, but 
 went smashing and crashing through the woods 
 into the distance. Twas too hot to run after 
 em, so I waited a spell and then loafed off in a 
 roundabout direction toward where I see em go. 
 After I d walked pretty nigh a mile I heard Ham 
 mond whistle. I looked, but didn t see him no- 
 wheres. Then he whistled again, and I see his 
 head sticking out of the top of a palm tree.
 
 "Is she gone? says he. 
 Yes, long ago/ says I. Come down. 
 
 "It took some coaxing to git him down, but 
 he come after a spell, and he was the scaredest 
 man ever I see. I asked him what the matter was. 
 "Edge/ says he, I m a lost man. That ere 
 orrible Ankins houtrage is either going to marry 
 me or kill me. Edge/ he says, awful solemn, 
 *she tried to kiss me! S elp me, she did! 
 
 "Well, I set back and laughed. Is that why 
 you run away ? I says. 
 
 No/ says he. When I wouldn t let er she hups 
 with a rock as big as my ead and goes for me. 
 There was murder in er eyes, Edge; I see it. 
 
 "Then I laughed more than ever and told him 
 to come back to the shanty, but he wouldn t. 
 He swore he d never come back again while 
 Lobelia Ankins was there. 
 
 " That s it/ says he, larf at a feller critter s 
 sufferings. I honly wish she d try to kiss you 
 once, that s all! 
 
 "Well, I couldn t make him budge, so I decided 
 to go back and get the lay of the land. Lobelia 
 was busy inside the shanty when I got there and 
 looking black as a thundercloud, so I judged 
 twa n t best to say nothing to her, and I went 
 down and finished the job on the schooner. At 
 night, when I come in to supper, she met me at
 
 THE LOVE OF LOBELI4 169 
 
 the door. She had a big stick in her hand and 
 looked savage. I was a little nervous. 
 
 " Now, Lobelia Ankins/ says I, put down 
 that and be sociable, there s a good girl/ 
 
 "Course I knew she couldn t understand me, 
 but I was whistling to keep my courage up, as 
 the saying is. 
 
 ""AmmondP says she, p inting toward the 
 woods. 
 
 Yes/ says I, Hammond s taking a walk 
 for his health/ 
 
 ""Ammond!* says she, louder, and shaking 
 the stick. 
 
 " Now, Lobelia/ says I, smiling smooth as 
 butter, do put down that club! 
 
 "Ammondr she fairly hollers. Then she 
 went through the most blood-curdling panto 
 mime ever was, I reckon. First she comes up 
 to me and taps me on the chest and says, * Edge/ 
 Then she goes creeping round the room on tip 
 toe, p inting out of the winder all the time as 
 much as to say she was pertending to walk through 
 the woods. Then she p ints to one of the stumps 
 we used for chairs and screeches "Ammond! 
 and fetches the stump an awful bang with the 
 club. Then she comes over to me and kinder 
 snuggles up and smiles, and says, * Edge/ and 
 tried to put the club in my hand.
 
 170 THE "OLD HOME HOUSE" 
 
 "My topnot riz up on my head. Good Lord! 
 thinks I, she s making love to me so s to get me 
 to take that club and go and thump Hammond 
 with it! 
 
 " I PUT FOR THE WOODS." 
 
 "I was scared stiff, but Lobelia was between 
 me and the door, so I kept smiling and backing 
 away. 
 
 " Now, Lobelia, says I, don t be 
 
 "Ammond! says she. 
 
 " Now, Miss Ankins, d-o-n t be hasty, I *
 
 THE WVE OF LOBELIA 171 
 
 ""Ammondr 
 
 "Well, I backed faster and faster, and she 
 follered me right up till at last I begun to run. 
 Round and round the place we went, me scart 
 for my life and she fairly frothing with rage. 
 Finally I bust through the door and put for the 
 woods at a rate that beat Hammond s going all 
 holler. I never stopped till I got close to the 
 palm tree. Then I whistled and Hammond 
 answered. 
 
 "When I told him about the rumpus, he set 
 and laughed like an idiot. 
 
 " Ow d you like Miss Ankin s love-making ? 
 he says. 
 
 " You ll like it less n I do/ I says, if she gets 
 up here with that club! 
 
 "That kind of sobered him down again, and 
 we got to planning. After a spell, we decided 
 that our only chance was to sneak down to the 
 schooner in the dark and put to sea, leaving 
 Lobelia alone in her glory. 
 
 "Well, we waited till twelve o clock or so and 
 then we crept down to the beach, tiptoeing past 
 the shanty for fear of waking Lobelia. We got 
 on the schooner all right, hauled up anchor, 
 h isted sail and stood out of the lagoon with a 
 fair wind. When we was fairly to sea we shook 
 hands.
 
 172 THE "OLD HOME HOUSE" 
 
 "Lawd! says Hammond, drawing a long 
 breath, I never was so appy in my life. This 
 ere lady-killing business ain t in my line. 
 
 "He felt so good that he set by the wheel and 
 sung, Good-by, sweet art, good-by, for an hour 
 or more. 
 
 "In the morning we was in sight of another 
 
 small island, and, out on a p int, was a passel of 
 
 folks jumping up and down and waving a signal. 
 
 "Well, if there ain t more castaways! says I. 
 
 "Do.n t go near em! says Hammond. Might 
 
 come there was more Lobelias among em. 
 
 "But pretty quick we see the crowd all pile 
 into a boat and come rowing off to us. They 
 was all men, and their signal was a red flannel 
 shirt on a pole. 
 
 "We put about for em and picked em up, 
 letting their boat tow behind the schooner. There 
 was five of em, a ragged and dirty lot of Malays 
 and half- breeds. When they first climbed aboard, 
 I see em looking the schooner over mighty sharp, 
 and in a minute they was all jabbering together 
 in native lingo. 
 
 " What s the matter with em? says Ham 
 mond. 
 
 "A chap with scraggy black whiskers and a 
 sort of worried look on his face, stepped for ard 
 and made a bow. He looked like a cross be-
 
 THE LOVE OF LOBELIA 173 
 
 tween a Spaniard and a Malay, and I guess that s 
 what he was. 
 
 " Senors, says he, palavering and scraping, 
 boat! my boat! 
 
 " Wat s e giving us?* says Hammond. 
 
 " Boat! This boat! My boat, senors/ says 
 the feller. All to once I understood him. 
 
 " Hammond/ I says, I swan to man if I don t 
 believe we ve picked up the real crew of this 
 craft! 
 
 "Si, senor; boat, my boat! Crew! Crew! 
 says Whiskers, waving his hands toward the 
 rest of his gang. 
 
 "Hall right, skipper, says Hammond; glad 
 to see yer back haboard. Make yerselves well 
 at ome. Ow d yer lose er in the first place? 
 
 "The feller didn t seem to understand much 
 of this, but he looked more worried than ever. 
 The crew looked frightened, and jabbered. 
 
 "Ooman, senors, says Whiskers, in half a 
 whisper. Ooman, she here? 
 
 " Hammond, says I, what s a ooman? 
 The feller seemed to be thinkin a minute; then 
 he began to make signs. He pulled his nose 
 down till it most touched his chin. Then he 
 put his hands to his ears and made loops of his 
 fingers to show earrings. Then he took off his 
 coat and wrapped it round his knees like make-
 
 174 THE "OLD HOME HOUSE" 
 
 b lieve skirts. Hammond and me looked at 
 each other. 
 
 ""Edge/ says Hammond, "c wants to know 
 w at s become of Lobelia Ankins. 
 
 " No, senor, says I to the feller; ooman no 
 here. Ooman there! And I p inted in the direc 
 tion of our island. 
 
 "Well, sir, you oughter have seen that Malay 
 gang s faces light up! They all bust out a grin 
 ning and laffing, and Whiskers fairly hugged 
 me and then Hammond. Then he made one 
 of the Malays take the wheel instead of me, and 
 sent another one into the fo castle after some 
 thing. 
 
 " But I was curious, and I says, p inting toward 
 Lobelia s island: 
 
 Ooman your wife ? 
 
 "No, no, no, says he, shaking his head like 
 it would come off, ooman no wife. Wife there, 
 and he p inted about directly opposite from my 
 way. Ooman, he goes on, she no wife, she 
 
 "Just here the Malay come up from the fo cas- 
 tle, grinning like a chessy cat and hugging a fat 
 jug of this here palm wine that natives make. 
 I don t know where he got it from I thought 
 Hammond and me had rummaged that fo castle 
 pretty well but, anyhow, there it was. 
 
 "Whiskers passed the jug to me and I handed
 
 THE LOVE OF LOBELIA 175 
 
 k over to Hammond. He stood up to make a 
 speech. 
 
 " Feller citizens/ says he, I rise to drink a 
 toast. Ere s to the beautchous Lobelia Ankins, 
 and may she long hornament the lovely island 
 where she now 
 
 "The Malay at the wheel behind us gave an 
 awful screech. We all turned sudden, and there, 
 standing on the companion ladder, with her 
 head and shoulders out of the hatch, was Lo 
 belia Ankins, as large as life and twice as natural. 
 
 "Hammond dropped the jug and it smashed 
 into flinders. We all stood stock-still for a min 
 ute, like folks in a tableau. The half-breed 
 skipper stood next to me, and I snum if you 
 couldn t see him shrivel up like one of them 
 things they call a sensitive plant. 
 
 "The tableau lasted while a feller might count 
 five; then things happened. Hammond and me 
 dodged around the deckhouse; the Malays broke 
 and run, one up the main rigging, two down the 
 fo castle hatch and one out on the jib-boom. 
 But the poor skipper wa n t satisfied with any 
 of them places; he started for the lee rail, and 
 Lobelia Ankins started after him. 
 
 "She caught him as he was going to jump 
 overboard and yanked him back like he was a 
 bag of meal. She shook him, she boxed his ears,
 
 176 THE "OLD HOME HOUSE 
 
 she pulled his hair, and all the time he was beg* 
 ging and pleading and she was screeching and 
 jabbering at the top of her lungs. Hammond 
 pulled me by the sleeve. 
 
 "It ll be our turn next/ says he; get into 
 the boat! Quick! 
 
 "The little boat that the crew had come in 
 was towing behind the schooner. We slid over 
 the stern and dropped into it. Hammond cut 
 the towline and we laid to the oars. Long as we 
 was in the hearing of the schooner the powwow 
 and rumpus kept up, but just as we was landing 
 on the little island that the Malays had left, she 
 come about on the port tack and stood off to sea. 
 
 "Lobelia s running things again, says Ham 
 mond. 
 
 "Three days after this we was took off by a 
 Dutch gunboat. Most of the time on the island 
 we spent debating how Lobelia come to be on 
 the schooner. Finally we decided that she must 
 have gone aboard to sleep that night, suspect 
 ing that we d try to run away in the schooner 
 just as we had tried to. We talked about Whis 
 kers and his crew and guessed about how they 
 came to abandon their boat in the first place. 
 One thing we was sartin sure of, and that was 
 that they d left Lobelia aboard on purpose. We 
 knew mighty well that s what we d a-done.
 
 THE LOVE OF LOBELIA 177 
 
 "What puzzled us most was what relation 
 Lobelia was to the skipper. She wa n t his wife, 
 cause he d said so, and she didn t look enough 
 like him to be his mother or sister. But as we 
 was being took off in the Dutchman s yawl, Ham 
 mond thumps the thwart with his fist and says 
 he: 
 
 "I ve got it! he says; she s is mother-in- 
 law! 
 
 "Course she is!* says I. We might have 
 known it! "
 
 THE MEANNESS OF ROSY
 
 THE MEANNESS OF ROSY 
 
 Cap n Jonadab said that the South Seas and 
 them islands was full of queer happenings, any 
 how. Said that Eri s yarn reminded him of one 
 that Jule Sparrow used to tell. There was a 
 Cockney in that yarn, too, and a South Sea 
 woman and a schooner. But in other respects 
 the stories was different. 
 
 "You ail know Wash Sparrow, here in Well- 
 mouth," says the Cap n. "He s the laziest man 
 in town. It runs in his family. His dad 
 was just the same. The old man died of creeping 
 paralysis, which was just the disease he d pick 
 out to die of, and even then he took six years to 
 do it in. Washy s brother Jule, Julius Caesar 
 Sparrow, he was as no-account and lazy as the 
 rest. When he was around this neighborhood 
 he put in his time swapping sea lies for heat from 
 the post-office stove, and the only thing that 
 would get him livened up at all was the mention 
 of a feller named Rosy that he knew while he 
 was seafaring, way off on t other side of the world. 
 
 181
 
 1 82 THE "OLD HOME HOUSE" 
 
 Jule used to say that twas this Rosy that made him 
 lose faith in human nature. 
 
 "The first time ever Julius and Rosy met was 
 one afternoon just as the Emily that was the 
 little fore-and-aft South Sea trading schooner 
 Jule was in was casting off from the ramshackle 
 landing at Hello Island. Where s Hello Island ? 
 Well, I ll tell you. When you get home you take 
 your boy s geography book and find the map of 
 the world. About amidships of the sou western 
 quarter of it you ll see a place where the Pacific 
 Ocean is all broke out with the measles. Yes; 
 well, one of them measle spots is Hello Island. 
 
 Course that ain t the real name of it. The 
 real one is spelt with four o s, three a s, five i s, 
 and a peck measure of h s and x s hove in to fill 
 up. It looks like a plate of hash and that s the 
 way it s pronounced. Maybe you might sing it 
 if twas set to music, but no white man ever said 
 the whole of it. Them that tried always broke 
 down on the second fathom or so and said Oh, 
 the hereafter! or words to that effect. Course 
 the missionaries see that wouldn t do, so they 
 twisted it stern first and it s been Hello Island 
 to most folks ever since. 
 
 "Why Jule was at Hello Island is too long a 
 yarn. Biled down it amounts to a voyage on a 
 bark out of Seattle, and a first mate like yours,
 
 THE MEANNESS OF ROST 183 
 
 Eri, who was a kind of Christian Science chap 
 and cured sick sailors by the laying on of hands 
 likewise feet and belaying pins and ax handles 
 and such. And, according to Jule s tell, he did 
 cure em, too. After he d jumped up and down 
 on your digestion a few times you forgot all about 
 the disease you started in with and only remem 
 bered the complications. Him and Julius had 
 their final argument one night when the bark 
 was passing abreast one of the Navigator Islands, 
 close in. Jule hove a marlinespike at the mate s 
 head and jumped overboard. He swum ashore 
 to the beach and, inside of a week, he d shipped 
 aboard the Emily. And twas aboard the Emily, 
 and at Hello Island, as I said afore, that he met 
 Rosy. 
 
 "George Simmons a cockney Britisher he 
 was, and skipper was standing at the schooner s 
 wheel, swearing at the two Kanaka sailors who 
 were histing the jib. Julius, who was mate, 
 was roosting on the lee rail amid-ships, helping 
 him swear. And old Teunis Van Doozen, a 
 Dutchman from Java or thereabouts, who was 
 cook, was setting on a stool by the galley door 
 ready to heave in a word whenever twas necessary. 
 The Kanakas was doing the work. That was 
 the usual division of labor aboard the Emily. 
 
 "Well, just then there comes a yell from the
 
 1 84 THE "OLD HOME HOUSE" 
 
 bushes along the shore. Then another yell and 
 a most tremendous cracking and smashing. Then 
 out of them bushes comes tearing a little man 
 with spectacles and a black enamel-cloth carpets 
 bag, heaving sand like a steam-shovel and seem 
 ingly trying his best to fly. And astern of him 
 comes more yells and a big, husky Kanaka woman, 
 about eight foot high and three foot in the beam, 
 with her hands stretched out and her ringers 
 crooked. 
 
 "Julius used to swear that that beach was all 
 of twenty yards wide and that the little man only 
 lit three times from bush to wharf. And he 
 didn t stop there. He fired the carpetbag at the 
 schooner s stern and then spread out his wings 
 and flew after it. His fingers just hooked over 
 the rail and he managed to haul himself aboard. 
 Then he curled up on the deck and breathed short 
 but spirited. The Kanaka woman danced to 
 the stringpiece and whistled distress signals. 
 
 "Cap n George Simmons looked down at the 
 wrecked flying machine and grunted. 
 
 " Umph! says he. You don t look like a 
 man the girls would run after. Lady your wife ? 
 
 "The little feller bobbed his specs up and 
 down. 
 
 "So?* says George. "Ow can I bear to 
 leave thee/ ey ? Well, ain t you ashamed of
 
 THE MEANNESS OF ROST 185 
 
 yourself to be running off and leaving a nice, 
 andsome, able-bodied wife that like ? Look at 
 *er now, over there on er knees a praying for you 
 to come back/ 
 
 "There was a little p int making out from the 
 beach close by the edge of the channel and the 
 woman was out on the end of it, down on all fours. 
 Her husband raised up and looked over the rail. 
 
 "She ain t praying/ he pants, ducking down 
 again quick. She s a-picking up stones. 
 
 "And so she was. Julius said he thought sure 
 she d cave in the Emily s ribs afore she got through 
 with her broadsides. The rocks flew like hail. 
 Everybody got their share, but Cap n George 
 got a big one in the middle of the back. That 
 took his breath so all the way he could express 
 his feelings was to reach out and give his new 
 passenger half a dozen kicks. But just as soon 
 as he could he spoke, all right enough. 
 
 You mis rable four-eyed shrimp! he says. 
 Twould serve you right if I ove to and made you 
 swim back to er. Blow me if I don t believe I 
 will! 
 
 " Aw, don t, Cap n; please don t! begs the 
 feller. Til be awful grateful to you if you won t. 
 And I ll make it right with you, too. I ve got a 
 good thing in that bag of mine. Yes, sir! A 
 beautiful good thing.
 
 186 THE "OLD HOME HOUSE" 
 
 "Oh, well/ says the skipper, bracing up and 
 smiling sweet as he could for the ache in his back. 
 Til elp you out. You trust your Uncle George. 
 Not on account of what you re going to give me, 
 you understand, says he. "It would be a pity 
 if that was the reason for elpin* a feller creat 
 Sparrow, if you touch that bag I ll break your 
 blooming ead. Ere! you and it to me. I ll 
 take care of it for the gentleman. 
 
 "All the rest of that day the Cap n couldn t do 
 enough for the passenger. Give him a big dinner 
 that took Teunis two hours to cook, and let him 
 use his own pet pipe with the last of Jule s tobacco 
 in it, and all that. And that evening in the cabin, 
 Rosy told his story. Seems he come from Bom 
 bay originally, where he was born an innocent 
 and trained to be a photographer. This was in 
 the days when these hand cameras wa n t so 
 common as they be now, and Rosy his full name 
 was Clarence Rosebury, and he looked it had 
 a fine one. Also he had some plates and photo 
 graph paper and a jug of developer and bottles 
 of stuff to make more, wrapped up in an old 
 overcoat and packed away in the carpetbag. He 
 had landed in the Fijis first off and had drifted 
 over to Hello Island, taking pictures of places and 
 natives and so on, intending to use em in a course 
 of lectures he was going to deliver when he got
 
 THE MEANNESS OF ROST 187 
 
 back home. He boarded with the Kanaka lady 
 at Hello till his money give out, and then he mar 
 ried her to save board. He wouldn t talk about 
 his married life just shivered instead. 
 
 " But w at about this good thing you was 
 mentioning, Mr. Rosebury? asks Cap n George, 
 polite, but staring hard at the bag. Jule and 
 the cook was in the cabin likewise. The skipper 
 would have liked to keep em out, but they being 
 two to one, he couldn t. 
 
 That s it, answers Rosy, cheerful. 
 
 " Wat s it? 
 
 " Why, the things in the grip; the photograph 
 things. You see, says Rosy, getting excited, 
 his innocent, dreamy eyes a-shining behind his 
 specs and the ridge of red hair around his bald 
 spot waving like a hedge of sunflowers ; you see, he 
 says, my experience has convinced me that there s 
 a fortune right in these islands for a photographer 
 who ll take pictures of the natives. They re all 
 dying to have their photographs took. Why, 
 when I was in Hello Island I could have took 
 dozens, only they didn t have the money to pay 
 for em and I couldn t wait till they got some. 
 But you ve got a schooner. You could sail 
 around from one island to another, me taking 
 pictures and you getting copra and and pearls 
 and things from the natives in trade for em.
 
 1 88 THE "OLD HOME HOUSE" 
 
 And we d leave a standing order for more plates 
 to be delivered steady from the steamer at Suva 
 or somewheres, and 
 
 "Old on! Cap n George had been getting 
 redder and redder in the face while Rosy was talk 
 ing, and now he fairly biled over, like a teakettle. 
 * Old on! he roars. Do I understand that this 
 is the good thing you was going to let me in on ? 
 Me to cruise you around from Dan to Beersheby, 
 feeding you, and giving you tobacco to smoke 
 "Twas my tobacco, breaks in Julius. 
 
 "Shut up! Cruising you around, and you 
 living on the fat of of the the water, and me 
 trusting to get my pay out of tintypes of Kanakas! 
 Was that it ? Was it ? 
 
 "Why why, yes/ answers Rosy. But, cap n, 
 you don t understand 
 
 " Then/ says George, standing up and rolling 
 up his pajama sleeves, there s going to be justifi 
 able omicide committed right now. 
 
 " Jule said that if it hadn t been that the skip 
 per s sore back got to hurting him he don t know 
 when him and the cook would have had their turn 
 at Rosy. Course they wanted a turn on account 
 of the tobacco and the dinner, not to mention the 
 stone bruises. When all hands was through, that 
 photographer was a spiled negative. 
 
 "And that was only the beginning. They
 
 THE MEANNESS OF ROST 189 
 
 ain t much fun abusing Kanakas because they 
 don t talk back, but first along Rosy would try 
 to talk back, and that give em a chance. Julius 
 had learned a lot of things from that mate on the 
 bark, and he tried em all on that tintype man. 
 And afterward they invented more. They made 
 him work his passage, and every mean and dirty 
 job there was to do, he had to do it. They took 
 his clothes away from him, and, while they lasted, 
 the skipper had three shirts at once, which hadn t 
 happened afore since he served his term in the 
 Sydney jail. And he was such a comfort to em. 
 Whenever the dinner wa n t cooked right, instead 
 of blaming Teunis, they took it out of Rosy. By 
 the time they made their first port they wouldn t 
 have parted with him for no money, and they 
 locked him up in the fo castle and kept him there. 
 And when one of the two Kanaka boys run 
 away they shipped Rosy in his place by un 
 animous vote. And so it went for six months, 
 the Emily trading and stealing all around the 
 South Seas. 
 
 "One day the schooner was off" in an out-of-the 
 way part of the ocean, and the skipper come up 
 from down below, bringing one of the photo 
 graphing bottles from the carpetbag. 
 
 "See ere, says he to Rosy, who was swab 
 bing decks just to keep him out of mischief, w at
 
 190 THE "OLD HOME HOUSE" 
 
 kind of a developer stuff is this ? It has a mighty 
 familiar smell. 
 
 That ain t developer, sir, answers Rosy, 
 
 meek as usual. That s alcohol. I use it 
 
 "Alcohol! says George. Do you mean to 
 tell me that you ve ad alcohol aboard all this 
 time and never said a word to one of us ? If that 
 ain t just like you! Of all the ungrateful beasts 
 as ever I 
 
 "When him and the other two got through 
 convincing Rosy that he was ungrateful, they 
 took that bottle into the cabin and begun experi 
 menting. Julius had lived a few months in 
 Maine, which is a prohibition State, and so he knew 
 how to make alcohol splits one-half wet fire 
 and the rest water. They split for five days. 
 Then the alcohol was all out and the Emily was 
 all in, being stove up on a coral reef two mile off 
 shore of a little island that nobody d ever seen 
 afore. 
 
 "They got into the boat the four white men 
 and the Kanaka histed the sail, and headed for 
 the beach. They landed all right and was wel 
 comed by a reception committee of fifteen husky 
 cannibals with spears, dressed mainly in bone 
 necklaces and sunshine. The committee was 
 glad to see em, and showed it, particular to 
 Teunis, who was fat. Rosy, being principally
 
 THE MEANNESS OF ROST 
 
 framework by this time, wa n t nigh so popular; 
 but he didn t seem to care. 
 
 "The darkies tied em up good and proper 
 and then held a committee meeting, arguing, so 
 Julius cal lated, whether to serve em plain or 
 with greens. While the rest was making up the 
 bill of fare, a few set to work unpacking the bags 
 and things, Rosy s satchel among em. Pretty 
 soon there was an awful jabbering. 
 
 " They ve settled it, says George, doleful. 
 Well, there s enough of Teunis to last em for 
 one meal, if they ain t ogs. You re a tough 
 old bird, cooky; maybe you ll give em dyspepsy, 
 so they won t care for the rest of us. That s a 
 ray of ope, ain t it ? 
 
 "But the cook didn t seem to get much hope 
 out of it. He was busy telling the skipper what he 
 thought of him when the natives come up. They 
 was wildly excited, and two or three of em was 
 waving square pieces of cardboard in their hands. 
 
 "And here s where the Emily s gang had a 
 streak of luck. The Kanaka sailor couldn t 
 talk much English, but it seems that his granddad, 
 or some of his ancestors, must have belonged to 
 the same breed of cats as these islanders, for he 
 could manage to understand a little of their lingo. 
 
 "Picture! says he, crazy-like with joy. Pic 
 ture, cappy; picture!
 
 192 THE "OLD HOME HOUSE" 
 
 "When Rosy was new on board the schooner, 
 afore George and the rest had played with him 
 till he was an old story, one of their games was 
 to have him take their photographs. He d taken 
 the cap n s picture, and Julius s and Van Doozen s. 
 The pictures was a Rogues Gallery that would 
 have got em hung on suspicion anywhere in 
 civilization, but these darkies wa n t particular. 
 Anyhow they must have been good likenesses,, 
 for the committee see the resemblance right off. 
 
 They t ink witchcraft/ says the Kanaka. 
 Want to know how make/ 
 
 "Lord! says George. You tell em we re 
 witches from Witch Center. Tell em we make 
 them kind of things with our eyes shut, and if 
 they eat us we ll send our tintypes to aunt em 
 into their graves. Tell em that quick. 
 
 "Well, I guess the Kanaka obeyed orders, 
 for the islanders was all shook up. They jab 
 bered and hurrahed like a parrot-house for ten 
 minutes or so. Then they untied the feet of their 
 Sunday dinners, got em into line, and marched 
 em off across country, prodding em with their 
 spears, either to see which was the tenderest or 
 to make em step livelier, I don t know which. 
 
 "Julius said that was the most nervous walk 
 ever he took. Said afore twas done he was so- 
 leaky with spear holes that he cast a shadder like
 
 THE MEANNESS OF ROST 193 
 
 a skimmer. Just afore sunset they come to the 
 other side of the island, where there was a good 
 sized native village, with houses made of grass 
 and cane, and a big temple-like in the middle, 
 decorated fancy and cheerful with skulls and 
 spareribs. Jule said there was places where the 
 decorations needed repairs, and he figgered he 
 was just in time to finish em. But he didn t 
 take no pride in it; none of his folks cared for art. 
 
 "The population was there to meet em, and 
 even the children looked hungry. Anybody could 
 see that having company drop in for dinner was 
 right to their taste. There was a great chair 
 arrangement in front of the temple, and on it was 
 the fattest, ugliest, old liver-colored woman that 
 Julius ever see. She was rigged up regardless, 
 with a tooth necklace and similar jewelry; and 
 it turned out that she was the queen of the bunch. 
 Most of them island tribes have chiefs, but this 
 district was strong for woman suffrage. 
 
 "Well, the visitors had made a hit, but Rosy s 
 photographs made a bigger one. The queen and 
 the head men of the village pawed over em and 
 compared em with the originals and powwowed 
 like a sewing circle. Then they called up the 
 Kanaka sailor, and he preached witchcraft and 
 hoodoos to beat the cars, lying as only a feller that 
 knows the plates are warming for him on the back
 
 I 9 4 THE "OLD HOME HOUSE" 
 
 of the stove can lie. Finally the queen wanted to 
 know if the long pigs could make a witch picture 
 of her. 
 
 "Tell er yes/ yells George, when the question 
 was translated to him. Tell er we re picture- 
 makers by special app intment to the Queen and 
 the Prince of Wales. Tell er we ll make er 
 look like the sweetest old chocolate drop in the 
 taffy-shop. Only be sure and say we must ave 
 a day or so to work the spells and put on the 
 kibosh. 
 
 "So twas settled, and dinner was put off for 
 that night, anyhow. And the next day being 
 sunny, Rosy took the queen s picture. Twas 
 an awful strain on the camera, but it stood it fine; 
 and the photographs he printed up that afternoon 
 \vas the most horrible collection of mince-pie 
 dreams that ever a sane man run afoul of. Rosy 
 used one of the grass huts for a dark room; and 
 \vhile he was developing them plates, they could 
 hear him screaming from sheer fright at being 
 shut up alone with em in the dark. 
 
 "But her majesty thought they was lovely, 
 and set and grinned proud at em for hours at a 
 stretch. And the wizards was untied and fed 
 up and given the best house in town to live in. 
 And Cap n George and Julius and the cook got 
 to feeling so cheerful and happy that they begun
 
 THE MEANNESS OF ROST 195 
 
 to kick Rosy again, just out of habit. And so it 
 went on for three days. 
 
 "Then comes the Kanaka interpreter grin 
 ning kind of foolish. 
 
 "Cappy/ says he, queen, she likes you. She 
 likes you much lot. 
 
 ROSY TOOK THE QUEEN S PICTURE. 
 
 " Well/ says the skipper, modest, she d ought 
 to. She don t see a man like me every day. She 
 ain t the first woman, he says. 
 
 She like all you gentlemen/ says the Kanaka.
 
 196 THE "OLD HOME HOUSE" 
 
 She say she want witch husband. One of you 
 got marry her/ 
 
 "Hey? yells all hands, setting up. 
 Yes, sir. She no care which one, but one 
 white man must marry her to-morrow. Else 
 we all go chop plenty quick/ 
 
 " Chop is Kanaka English for eat. There 
 wa n t no need for the boy to explain. 
 
 "Then there was times. They come pretty 
 nigh to a fight, because Teunis and Jule argued 
 that the skipper, being such a ladies man, was 
 the natural-born choice. Just as things was the 
 warmest, Cap n George had an idea. 
 
 " Rosy! says he. 
 
 " Hey ? says the others. Then, Rosy ? Why, 
 of course, Rosy s the man. 
 
 "But Rosy wa n t agreeable. Julius said he 
 never see such a stubborn mule in his life. They 
 tried every reasonable way they could to con 
 vince him, pounding him on the head and the 
 like of that, but twas no go. 
 
 "I got a wife already, he says, whimpering. 
 And, besides, cap n, there wouldn t be such a 
 contrast in looks between you and her as there 
 would with me. 
 
 "He meant so far as size went, but George 
 took it the other way, and there was more trouble. 
 Finally Julius come to the rescue.
 
 THE MEANNESS OF ROSr 197 
 
 " I tell you, says he. We ll be square and 
 draw straws! 
 
 " Wat ? hollers George. Well, I guess not! 
 
 " And I ll hold the straws, says Jule, winking 
 on the side. 
 
 "So they drew straws, and, strange as it may 
 seem, Rosy got stuck. He cried all night, and 
 though the others tried to comfort him, telling 
 him what a lucky man he was to marry a queen, 
 he wouldn t cheer up a mite. 
 
 "And next day the wedding took place in the 
 temple in front of a wood idol with three rows of 
 teeth, and as ugly almost as the bride, which was 
 saying a good deal. And when twas over, the 
 three shipmates come and congratulated the 
 groom, wishing him luck and a happy honey 
 moon and such. Oh, they had a bully time, and 
 they was still laughing over it that night after 
 supper, when down comes a file of big darkies 
 with spears, the Kanaka interpreter leading em. 
 
 "Cappy, says he. The king say you no 
 stay in this house no more. He say too good 
 for you. Say, bimeby, when the place been 
 clean up, maybe he use it himself. You got to go. 
 "Who says this? roars Cap n George,, ugly 
 as could be. 
 
 "The king, he say it. 
 
 "The queen, you mean. There ain t no king.
 
 198 THE "OLD HOME HOUSE" 
 
 Yes, sir. King and queen now. Mr. Rosy 
 he king. All tribe proud to have witch king. 
 
 "The three looked at each other. 
 
 " Do you mean to say, says the skipper, 
 choking so he could hardly speak, that we ve 
 got to take orders from im? 
 
 Yes, sir. King say you no mind, we make. 
 
 "Well, sir, the language them three used must 
 have been something awful, judging by Jule s tell. 
 But when they vowed they wouldn t move, the 
 spears got busy and out they had to get and into 
 the meanest, dirtiest little hut in the village, one 
 without hardly any sides and great holes in the 
 roof. And there they stayed all night in a 
 pouring rain, the kind of rains you get in them 
 islands. 
 
 "Twa n t a nice night. They tried huddling 
 together to keep dry, but twa n t a success be 
 cause there was always a row about who should 
 be in the middle. Then they kept passing per 
 sonal remarks to one another. 
 
 "If the skipper hadn t been so gay and uppish 
 about choosing Rosy, says Julius, there wouldn t 
 have been no trouble. I do hate a smart 
 Aleck. 
 
 "Who said draw straws? sputters George, 
 mad clean through. And who eld em? Ey? 
 Who did ?
 
 THE MEANNESS OF ROST 199 
 
 " Well/ says Teunis, / didn t do it. You 
 Can t blame me/ 
 
 "No. You set there like a bump on a log and 
 let me and the mate put our feet in it. You old 
 fat ead! I 
 
 "They pitched into the cook until he got mad 
 and hit the skipper. Then there was a fight 
 that lasted till they was all scratched up and tired 
 out. The only thing they could agree on was 
 that Rosy was what the skipper called a viper 
 that they d nourished in their bosoms. 
 
 "Next morning twas worse than ever. Down 
 comes the Kanaka with his spear gang and routs 
 em out and sets em to gathering breadfruit all 
 day in the hot sun. And at night twas back 
 to the leaky hut again. 
 
 "And that wa n t nothing to what come later. 
 The lives that King Rosy led them three was 
 something awful. Twas dig in and work day in 
 and day out. Teunis had to get his majesty s 
 meals, and nothing was ever cooked right; and 
 then the royal army got after the steward with 
 spear handles. Cap n George had to clean up 
 the palace every day, and Rosy and the queen 
 who was dead gone on her witch husband, and let 
 him do anything he wanted to stood over him 
 and found fault and punched him with sharp 
 sticks to see him jump. And Julius had to fetch
 
 200 THE "OLD HOME HOUSE" 
 
 and cany and wait, and get on his knees when 
 ever he spoke to the king, and be helped up again 
 with a kick, like as not. 
 
 " Rosy took back all his own clothes that they d 
 stole, and then he took theirs for good measure. 
 He made em marry the three ugliest old women on 
 the island his own bride excepted and when 
 they undertook to use a club or anything, he had 
 them licked instead. He wore em down to skin 
 and bone. Jule said you wouldn t believe a 
 mortal man could treat his feller creatures so 
 low down and mean. And the meanest part of 
 it was that he always called em the names that 
 they used to call him aboard ship. Sometimes 
 he invented new ones, but not often, because 
 twa n t necessary. 
 
 "For a good six months this went on just 
 the same length of time that Rosy was aboard 
 the Emily. Then, one morning early, Julius 
 looks out of one of the holes in the roof of his 
 house and, off on the horizon, heading in, he sees 
 a small steamer, a pleasure yacht twas. He lets 
 out a yell that woke up the village, and races 
 head first for the Emily s boat that had been 
 rowed around from the other side of the island, 
 and laid there with her oars and sail still in her. 
 And behind him comes Van Doozen and Cap n 
 George.
 
 THE MEANNESS OF ROST 201 
 
 "Into the boat they piled, while the islanders 
 were getting their eyes open and gaping at the 
 steamer. There wa n t no time to get up sail, 
 so they grabbed for the oars. She stuck on the 
 sand just a minute; and, in that minute, down 
 from the palace comes King Rosy, running the 
 way he run from his first wife over at Hello. He 
 leaped over the stern, picked up the other oar, and 
 off they put across the lagoon. The rudder was 
 in its place and so was the tiller, but they couldn t 
 use em then. 
 
 "They had a good start, but afore they d got 
 very far the natives had waked up and were after 
 em in canoes. 
 
 " Ere! screams Cap n George. This won t 
 do! They ll catch us sure. Get sail on to er 
 lively! Somebody take that tiller. 
 
 "Rosy, being nearest, took the tiller and the 
 others got up the sail. Then twas nip and tuck 
 with the canoes for the opening of the barrier 
 reef at the other side of the lagoon. But they 
 made it first, and, just as they did, out from 
 behind the cliff comes the big steam-yacht, all 
 white and shining, with sailors in uniform on her 
 decks, and awnings flapping, and four mighty 
 pretty women leaning over the side. All of the 
 Emily gang set up a whoop of joy, and twas 
 answered from the yacht.
 
 202 THE "OLD HOME HOUSE" 
 
 "Saved! hollers Cap n George. Saved, by 
 thunder! And now, says he, knocking his fists 
 together, now to get square with that four-eyed 
 thief in the stern! Come on, boys! 
 
 "Him and Julius and Teunis made a flying 
 leap aft to get at Rosy. But Rosy see em coming, 
 jammed the tiller over, the boom swung across 
 and swept the the three overboard pretty as you 
 please. 
 
 "There was a scream from the yacht. Rosy 
 give one glance at the women. Then he tossed 
 his arms over his head. 
 
 "Courage, comrades! he shouts. Til save 
 you or die with you! 
 
 "And overboard he dives, kersplash! 
 
 "Julius said him and the skipper could have 
 swum all right if Rosy had give em the chance, 
 but he didn t. He knew a trick worth two of 
 that. He grabbed em round the necks and kept 
 hauling em under and splashing and kicking 
 like a water-mill. All hands was pretty well 
 used up when they was pulled aboard the yacht. 
 
 "Oh, you brave man! says one of the women, 
 stooping over Rosy, who was sprawled on the deck 
 with his eyes shut, Oh, you hero! 
 
 "Are they living? asks Rosy, faint-like and 
 opening one eye. Good! Now I can die con 
 tent.
 
 THE MEANNESS OF ROST 203 
 
 " Living! yells George, soon s he could get the 
 salt water out of his mouth. Living! By the 
 oly Peter! Let me at im! I ll show im whether 
 I m living or not! 
 
 "What ails you, you villain? says the feller 
 that owned the yacht, a great big Englishman, 
 Lord Somebody-or-other. The man saved your 
 lives. 
 
 "He knocked us overboard! yells Julius. 
 Yes, and he done it a-purpose! sputters 
 Van Doozen, well as he could for being so water 
 logged. 
 
 "Let s kill him! says all three. 
 
 "Did it on purpose! says the lord, scornful, 
 Likely he d throw you over and then risk his life 
 to save you. Here! says he to the mate. Take 
 those ungrateful rascals below. Give em dry 
 clothes and then set em to work hard work; 
 understand ? As for this poor, brave chap, take 
 him to the cabin. I hope he ll pull through, 
 says he. 
 
 "And all the rest of the voyage, which was to 
 Melbourne, Julius and his two chums had to slave 
 and work like common sailors, while Rosy, the 
 hero invalid, w r as living on beef tea and jelly and 
 champagne, and being petted and fanned by the 
 lord s wife and the other women. And twas 
 worse toward the end, when he pretended to be
 
 204 THE "OLD HOME HOUSE" 
 
 feeling better, and could set in a steamer-chair 
 on deck and grin and make sarcastic remarks 
 under his breath to George and he other two 
 when they was holystoning or scrubbing in the 
 heat. 
 
 "At Melbourne they hung around the wharf, 
 waiting to lick him, till the lord had em took up 
 for vagrants. When they got out of the lockup 
 they found Rosy had gone. And his lordship 
 had given him money and clothes, and I don t 
 know what all. 
 
 "Julius said that Rosy s meanness sickened 
 him of the sea. Said twas time to retire when 
 such reptiles was afloat. So he come home and 
 married the scrub-woman at the Bay View House. 
 He lived with her till she lost her job. I don t 
 
 know where he is now." 
 
 ****** 
 
 Twas purty quiet for a few minutes after 
 Jonadab had unloaded this yarn. Everybody 
 was busy trying to swaller his share of the state 
 ments in it, I cal late. Peter T. looked at the 
 Cap n, admiring but reproachful. 
 
 "Wixon," says he. "I didn t know twas in 
 you. Why didn t you tell me ? " 
 
 "Oh," says Jonadab, "I ain t responsible. 
 Twas Jule Sparrow that told it to me." 
 
 "Humph!" says Peter. "I wish you knew his
 
 THE MEANNESS OF ROST 205 
 
 address. I d like to hire him to write the Old 
 Home ads. I thought my invention was A I, 
 but I m in the kindergarten. Well, let s go to 
 bed before somebody tries to win the prize from 
 Sparrow." 
 
 Twas after eleven by then, so, as his advice 
 looked good, we follered it.
 
 THE ANTIQUERS
 
 THE ANTIQUERS 
 
 We ve all got a crazy streak in us somewheres, 
 I cal late, only the streaks don t all break out in 
 the same place, which is a mercy, when you come 
 to think of it. One feller starts tooting a fish 
 horn and making announcements that he s the 
 Angel Gabriel. Another poor sufferer shows 
 his first symptom by having his wife s relations 
 come and live with him. One ends in the asylum 
 and t other in the poorhouse; that s the main 
 difference in them cases. Jim Jones fiddles with 
 perpetual motion and Sam Smith develops a sure 
 plan for busting Wall Street and getting rich 
 sudden. I take summer boarders maybe, and 
 you collect postage stamps. Oh, we re all looney, 
 more or less, every one of us. 
 
 Speaking of collecting reminds me of the "An- 
 tiquers" that s what Peter T. Brown called 
 em. They put up at the Old Home House 
 summer before last; and at a crank show they d 
 have tied for the blue ribbon. There was the 
 Dowager and the Duchess and "My Daughter"
 
 210 THE "OLD HOME HOUSE 9 
 
 and "Irene dear." Likewise there was Thomp* 
 son and Small, but they, being nothing but hus 
 bands and fathers, didn t count for much first 
 along, except when board was due or "antiques" 
 had to be settled for. 
 
 The Dowager fetched port first. She hove 
 alongside the Old Home one morning early in 
 July, and she had "My Daughter" in tow. The 
 names, as entered on the shipping list, was Mrs. 
 Milo Patrick Thompson and Miss Barbara Mil- 
 licent Thompson, but Peter T. Brown he had 
 em re-entered as "The Dowager" and "My 
 Daughter" almost as soon as they dropped anchor. 
 Thompson himself come poking up to the dock 
 on the following Saturday night; Peter didn t 
 christen him, except to chuck out something 
 about Milo s being an "also ran." 
 
 The Dowager was skipper of the Thompson 
 craft, with "My daughter" that s what her ma 
 always called her as first mate, and Milo as 
 general roustabout and purser. 
 
 Twould have done you good to see the fleet 
 run into the breakfast room of a morning, with 
 the Dowager leading, under full sail, Barbara 
 close up to her starboard quarter, and Milo 
 tailing out a couple of lengths astern. The other 
 boarders looked like quahaug dories abreast of 
 the Marblehead Yacht Club. Oh, the Thomp-
 
 THE ANTIQUERS 211 
 
 sons won every cup until the Smalls arrived on a 
 Monday; then twas a dead heat. 
 
 Mamma Small was built on the lines of old 
 lady Thompson, only more so, and her daughter 
 flew pretty nigh as many pennants as Barbara. 
 Peter T. had em labeled the "Duchess" and 
 "Irene dear" in a jiffy. He didn t nickname 
 Small any more n he had Thompson, and for the 
 same reasons. Me and Cap n Jonadab called 
 Small "Eddie" behind his back, count of his 
 wife s hailing him as "Edwin." 
 
 Well, the Dowager and the Duchess sized each 
 other up, and, recognizing I jedge, that they was 
 sister ships, set signals and agreed to cruise in 
 company and watch out for pirates meaning 
 young men without money who might want to 
 talk to their daughters. In a week the four 
 women was thicker than hasty-pudding and had 
 thrones on the piazza where they could patronize 
 everybody short of the Creator, and criticize the 
 other boarders. Milo and Eddie got friendly 
 too, and found a harbor behind the barn where 
 they could smoke and swap sympathy. 
 
 Twas fair weather for pretty near a fortni t, 
 and then she thickened up. The special brand 
 of craziness in Wellmouth that season was col 
 lecting "antiques," the same being busted chairs 
 and invalid bureaus and sofys that your great
 
 212 THE "OLD HOME HOUSE" 
 
 grandmarm got ashamed of and sent to the sick 
 bay a thousand year ago. Oh, yes, and dishes! 
 If there was one thing that would drive a city 
 woman to counting her fingers and cutting paper 
 dolls, twas a nicked blue plate with a Chinese 
 picture on it. And the homelier the plate the 
 higher the price. Why there was as many as six 
 families that got enough money for the rubbage 
 in their garrets to furnish their houses all over 
 with brand new things real shiny, hand-painted 
 stuff, not haircloth ruins with music box springs, 
 nor platters that you had to put a pan under for 
 fear of losing cargo. 
 
 I don t know who fetched the disease to the 
 Old Home House. All I m sartain of is that 
 twan t long afore all hands was in that condition 
 where the doctor d have passed em on to the 
 parson. First along it seemed as if the Thompson- 
 Small syndicate had been vaccinated they 
 didn t develop a symptom. But one noon the 
 Dowager sails into the dining-room and unfurls 
 a brown paper bundle. 
 
 "I ve captured a prize, my dear," says she 
 to the Duchess. "A veritable prize. Just 
 look!" 
 
 And she dives under the brown paper hatches 
 and resurrects a pink plate, suffering from yaller 
 jaundice, with the picture of a pink boy, wearing
 
 THE ANTIQUERS 213 
 
 curls and a monkey-jacket, holding hands with 
 a pink girl with pointed feet. 
 
 "Ain t it perfectly lovely? " says she, waving 
 the outrage in front of the Duchess. "A ginu- 
 wine Hall nappy! And in such condition*" 
 
 "Why," says the Duchess, "I didn t know you 
 were interested in antiques." 
 
 " I dote on em," comes back the Dowager, and 
 "my daughter" owned up that she "adored" em. 
 
 "If you knew," continues Mrs. Thompson, 
 "how I ve planned and contrived to get this 
 treasure. I ve schemed My! my! My 
 daughter says she s actually ashamed of me. Oh, 
 no! I can t tell even you where I got it. All s 
 fair in love and collecting, you know, and there 
 are more gems where this came from." 
 
 She laughed and "my daughter" laughed, and 
 the Duchess and "Irene dear laughed, too, and 
 said the plate was "so quaint," and all that, hut 
 you could fairly hear em turn green with jealeusy. 
 It didn t need a spyglass to see that they wouldn t 
 ride easy at their own moorings till they d landed 
 a treasure or two probably two. 
 
 And sure enough, in a couple of days they bore 
 down on the Thompsons, all sail set and colors 
 flying. They had a pair of plates that for ugliness 
 and p r ke knocked the "ginuwine Hall nappy" 
 higher n the main truck. And the way they
 
 214 THE "OLD HOME HOUSE" 
 
 crowed and bragged about their "finds" wa n\ t 
 to put in the log. The Dowager and "my daugh 
 ter" left that dinner table trembling all over. 
 
 Well, you can see how a v yage would end that 
 commenced that way. The Dowager and Bar 
 bara would scour the neighborhood and capture 
 more prizes, and the Duchess and her tribe would 
 get busy and go em one better. That s one sure 
 p int about the collecting business it ll stir up 
 a fight quicker n anything I know of, except 
 maybe a good looking bachelor minister. The 
 female Thompsons and Smalls was "my dear-in" 
 each other more n ever, but there was a chill 
 setting in round them piazza thrones, and some of 
 the sarcastic remarks that was casually hove out 
 by the bosom friends was pretty nigh sharp enough 
 to shave with. As for Milo and Eddie, they still 
 smoked together behind the barn, but the atmos 
 phere on the quarter-deck was affecting the 
 fo castle and there wa n t quite so many "old 
 mans" and "dear boys" as there used to was. 
 There was a general white frost coming, and you 
 didn t need an Old Farmer s Almanac to prove it. 
 
 The spell of weather developed sudden. One 
 evening rne and Cap n Jonadab and Peter T. 
 was having a confab by the steps of the billiard- 
 room, when Milo beats up from around the cor 
 ner. He was smiling as a basket of chips.
 
 THE ANTIQUERS 215 
 
 "Hello!" hails Peter T. cordial. "You look 
 as if you d had money left you. Any one else 
 remembered in the will ?" he says. 
 
 Milo laughed all over. "Well, well/ says he, 
 "I am feeling pretty good. Made a ten-strike 
 with Mrs. T. this afternoon for sure." 
 
 "That so ? " says Peter. "What s up ? Hooked a 
 prince ?" 
 
 A friend of "my daughter s" over at Newport 
 had got engaged to a mandarin or a count or 
 something nother, and the Dowager had been 
 preaching kind of eloquent concerning the short 
 ness of the nobility crop round Wellmouth. 
 
 "No," says Milo, laughing again. "Nothing 
 like that. But I have got hold of that antique 
 davenport she s been dying to capture." 
 
 One of the boarders at the hotel over to Harniss 
 had been out antiquing a week or so afore and had 
 bagged a contraption which answered to the name 
 of a "ginuwine Sheriton davenport." The dow 
 ager heard of it, and ever since she d been re* 
 marking that some people had husbands who 
 cared enough for their wives to find things that 
 pleased em. She wished she was lucky enough 
 to have that kind of a man; but no, she had to 
 depend on herself, and etcetery and so forth. 
 Maybe you ve heard sermons similar. 
 
 So we was glad for Milo and said so. Likewise
 
 216 TH "OLD HOME HOUSE" 
 
 we wanted to know where he found the davenport. 
 
 "Why, up here in the woods," says Milo, "at 
 the house of a queer old stick, name of Rogers. I 
 forget his front name twas longer n the daven 
 port." 
 
 "Not Adoniram Rogers ? " says Cap n Jonadab, 
 wondering. 
 
 "That s him," says Thompson. 
 
 Now, I knew Adoniram Rogers. His house 
 was old enough, Lord knows; but that a feller 
 with a nose for a bargain like his should have 
 hung on to a salable piece of dunnage so long as 
 this seemed most too tough to believe. 
 
 "Well, I swan to man!" says I. "Adoniram 
 Rogers! Have you seen the the davenport 
 thing?" 
 
 "Sure I ve seen it!" says Milo. "I ain t much 
 of a jedge, and of course I couldn t question 
 Rogers too much for fear he d stick on the price. 
 But it s an old davenport, and it s got Sheriton 
 lines and I ve got the refusal of it till to-morrow, 
 when Mrs. T s going up to inspect." 
 
 "Told Small yet?" asked Peter T., winking 
 on the side to me and Jonadab. 
 
 Milo looked scared. "Goodness! No," says 
 he. "And don t you tell him neither. His wife s 
 davenport hunting too." 
 
 "You say you ve got the refusal of it ?" says I.
 
 THE ANTIQUERS 217 
 
 "Well, I know Adoniram Rogers, and if 7 was 
 dickering with him I d buy the thing first and get 
 the refusal of it afterwards. You hear me?" 
 
 "Is that so ? " repeats Milo. "Slippery, is he ? 
 I ll take my wife up there first thing in the morn- 
 ing." 
 
 He walked off looking worried, and his tops ls 
 hadn t much more n sunk in the offing afore who 
 should walk out of the billiard room behind us 
 but Eddie Small. 
 
 "Brown," says he to Peter T., "I want you 
 to have a horse and buggy harnessed up for me 
 right off. Mrs. Small and I are going for a little 
 drive to to over to Orham," he says. 
 
 Twas a mean, black night for a drive as fur as 
 Orham and Peter looked surprised. He started 
 to say something, then swallered it down, and told 
 Eddie he d see to the harnessing. When Small 
 was out of sight, I says: 
 
 "You don t cal late he heard what Milo was 
 telling, do you, Peter?" says I. 
 
 Peter T. shook his head and winked, first at 
 Jonadab and then at me. 
 
 And the next day there was the dickens to pay 
 because Eddie and the Duchess had driven up to 
 Rogers the night afore and had bought the 
 davenport, refusal and all, for twenty dollars 
 more n Milo oifered for it.
 
 2 i8 THE "OLD HOME HOUSE" 
 
 Adoniram brought it down that forenoon and 
 all hands and the cook was on the hurricane deck 
 to man the yards. Twas a wonder them boarders 
 didn t turn out the band and fire salutes. Such 
 ohs and ahs! Twan t nothing but a ratty old 
 cripple of a sofy, with one leg carried away and 
 most of the canvas in ribbons, but four men 
 lugged it up the steps and the careful way they 
 handled it made you think the Old Home House 
 was a receiving tomb and they was laying in the 
 dear departed. 
 
 Twas set down on the piazza and then the 
 friends had a chance to view the remains. The 
 Duchess and "Irene dear" gurgled and gushed 
 and received congratulations. Eddie stood 
 around and tried to look modest as was possible 
 under the circumstances. The Dowager sailed 
 over, tilted her nose up to the foretop, remarked 
 "Humph 1 " through it and come about and stood 
 at the other end of the porch. "My daughter" 
 follers in her wake, observes "Humph!" likewise 
 and makes for blue water. Milo comes over and 
 looks at Eddie. 
 
 "Well ? " says Small. "What do you think of 
 it ? " 
 
 "Never mind what I think of //," answers 
 Thompson, through his teeth. "Shall I tell you 
 what I think of you? "
 
 THE ANTIQUERS 
 
 219 
 
 I thought for a minute that hostilities was going 
 to begin, but they didn t. The women was the 
 real battleships in that fleet, the men wa n t nothing 
 but transports. Milo and Eddie just glared at 
 each other and sheered off, and the "ginuwine 
 
 FRIENDS HAD A CHANCE TO VIEW THE REMAINS. 
 
 Sheriton" was lugged into the sepulchre, meaning 
 the trunk-room aloft in the hotel. 
 
 And after that the cold around the thrones was 
 so fierce we had to move the thermometer, and 
 we had to give the families separate tables in the
 
 220 THE "OLD HOME HOUSE 1 
 
 dining-room so s the milk would nt freeze. You 
 see the pitcher set right between em, and Oh? 
 I didn t expect you d believe it. 
 
 The "antiquing" went on harder than ever. 
 Every time the Thompsons landed a relic, they d 
 bring it out on the veranda or in to dinner and 
 gloat over it loud and pointed, while the Smalls 
 would pipe all hands to unload sarcasm. And 
 the same vicy vercy when twas t other way about. 
 Twas interesting and instructive to listen to and 
 amused the populace on rainy days, so Peter T. 
 said. 
 
 Adoniram Rogers had been mighty scurce 
 round the Old Home sense the davenport deal. 
 But one morning he showed up unexpected. A 
 boarder had dug up an antique somewheres in the 
 shape of a derelict plate, and was displaying it 
 proud on the piazza. The Thompsons was there 
 and the Smalls and a whole lot more. All of a 
 sudden Rogers walks up the steps and reaches 
 over and makes fast to the plate. 
 
 "Look out!" hollers the prize-winner, frantic. 
 "You ll drop it!" 
 
 Adoniram grunted. "Huh!" says he. Tain t 
 nothing but a blue dish. I ve got a whole closet 
 full of them." 
 
 "What?" yells everybody. And then: "WiU 
 you sell em ? "
 
 THE ANTIQUERS 221 
 
 "Sell em? " says Rogers, looking round sur 
 prised. "Why, I never see nothing I wouldn t 
 sell if I got money enough for it." 
 
 Then for the next few minutes there was what 
 old Parson Danvers used to call a study in human 
 nature. All hands started for that poor, helpless 
 plate owner as if they was going to swoop down 
 on him like a passel of gulls on a dead horse- 
 mack rel. Then they come to themselves and 
 stopped and looked at each other, kind of shame 
 faced but suspicious. The Duchess and her 
 crowd glared at the Dowager tribe and got the 
 glares back with compound interest. Everybody 
 wanted to get Adoniram one side and talk with 
 him, and everybody else was determined they 
 shouldn t. Wherever he moved the "Antiquers" 
 moved with him. Milo watched from the side 
 lines. Rogers got scared. 
 
 "Look here," says he, staring sort of wild-like 
 at the boarders. "What ails you folks ? Are 
 you crazy ? " 
 
 Well, he might have made a good deal worse 
 guess than that. I don t know how twould have 
 ended if Peter T. Brown, cool and sassy as ever, 
 hadn t come on deck just then and took command. 
 
 "See here, Rogers," he says, "let s understand 
 this thing. Have you got a set of dishes like 
 that?"
 
 222 THE "OLD HOME HOUSE" 
 
 Adoniram looked at him. "Will I get jailed 
 if I say yes?" he answers. 
 
 "Maybe you will if you don t," says Peter. 
 "Now, then, ladies and gentlemen, this is some 
 thing we re all interested in, and I think everybody 
 ought to have a fair show. I jedge from the de 
 fendant s testimony that he has got a set of the 
 dishes, and I also jedge, from my experience and 
 three years dealings with him, that he s too public- 
 spirited to keep em, provided he s paid four 
 times what they re worth. Now my idea is this: 
 Rogers will bring those dishes down here to- 
 morrer and we ll put em on exhibition in the 
 hotel parlor. Next day we ll have an auction 
 and sell em to the highest cash bidder. And, 
 provided there s no objection, I ll sacrifice my 
 reputation and be auctioneer." 
 
 So twas agreed to have the auction. 
 
 Next day Adoniram heaves alongside with the 
 dishes in a truck wagon, and they was strung out 
 on the tables in the parlor. And such a pawing 
 over and gabbling you never heard. I d been su- 
 picious, myself, knowing Rogers, but there was 
 the set from platters to sassers, and blue enough 
 and ugly enough to be as antique as Mrs. Methu- 
 salem s jet earrings. The "Antiquers" handled 
 em and admired em and p inted to the three holes 
 in the back of each dish the same being proof
 
 THE ANTIQUERS 223 
 
 of age and got more covetous every minute. But 
 the joy was limited. As one feller said, "I d like 
 em mighty well, but what chance ll we have bid 
 ding against green-back syndicates like that ? " 
 referring to the Dowager and the Duchess. 
 
 Milo and Eddie was the most worried of all, 
 because each of em had been commissioned by 
 their commanding officers not to let t other family 
 win. 
 
 That auction was the biggest thing that ever 
 happened at the Old Home. We had it on the 
 lawn out back of the billiard room and folks came 
 from Harniss and Orham and the land knows 
 where. The sheds and barn was filled with car 
 riages and we served thirty-two extra dinners at 
 a dollar a feed. The dishes was piled on a table 
 and Peter T. done his auctioneer preaching from 
 a kind of pulpit made out of two cracker boxes 
 and a tea chest. 
 
 But there wa n t any real bidding except from 
 the Smalls and Thompsons. A few of the board 
 ers and some of the out-of-towners took a shy 
 long at first, but their bids was only ground bait. 
 Milo and Eddie, backed by the Dowager and the 
 Duchess, done the real fishing. 
 
 The price went up and up. Peter T. whooped 
 and pounded and all but shed tears. If he d been 
 burying a competition hotel keeper he couldn t
 
 224 T HE " OLD HOME HOUSE" 
 
 have hove more soul into his work. *Twas, 
 "Fifty! Do I hear sixty ? Sixty do I hear ? Fifty 
 dollars! Think of it ? Why, friends, this ain t 
 a church pound party. Look at them dishes! 
 Look at em! Why, the pin feathers on those 
 blue dicky birds in the corners are worth more n 
 that for mattress stuffing. Do I hear sixty ? 
 Sixty I m bid. Who says seventy ? " 
 
 Milo said it, and Eddie was back at him afore 
 he could shake the reefs out of the last syllable. 
 She went up to a hundred, then to one hundred 
 and twenty-five, and with every raise Adoniram 
 Roger s smile lengthened out. After the one- 
 twenty-five mark the tide rose slower. Milo d 
 raise it a dollar and Eddie d jump him fifty 
 cents. 
 
 And just then two things happened. One 
 was that a servant girl come running from the 
 Old Home House to tell the Duchess and "Irene 
 dear" that some swell friends of theirs from the 
 hotel at Harniss had driven over to call and was 
 waiting for em in the parlor. The female Smalls 
 went in, though they wa n t joyful over it. They 
 give Eddie his sailing orders afore they went, too. 
 
 The other thing that happened was Bill Salt- 
 marsh s arriving in port. Bill is an "antiquer" 
 for revenue only. He runs an antique store 
 over at Ostable and the prices he charges are
 
 THE ANTIQUERS 225 
 
 enough to convict him without hearing the evi 
 dence. I knew he d come. 
 
 Saltmarsh busts through the crowd and makes 
 for the pulpit. He nods to Peter T. and picks 
 up one of the plates. He looks at it first ruther 
 casual; then more and more careful, turning 
 it over and taking up another. 
 
 "Hold on a minute, Brown," says he. "Are 
 these the dishes you re selling ? " 
 
 "Sure thing," comes back Peter. "Think 
 we re serving free lunch? No, sir! Those are 
 the genuine articles, Mr. Saltmarsh, and you re 
 cheating the widders and orphans if you don t 
 put in a bid quick. One thirty-two fifty, I m bid. 
 Now, Saltmarsh!" 
 
 But Bill only laughed. Then he picks up 
 another plate, looks at it, and laughs again. 
 
 "Good day, Brown," says he. "Sorry I can t 
 stop." And off he puts towards his horse and 
 buggy. 
 
 Eddie Small was watching him. Milo, being 
 on the other side of the pulpit, hadn t noticed 
 so partic lar. 
 
 "Who s that ? " asks Eddie, suspicious. "Does 
 he know antiques ? " 
 
 I remarked that if Bill didn t, then nobody did. 
 
 "Look here, Saltmarsh!" says Small, catching 
 Bill by the arm as he shoved through the crowd.
 
 226 THE "OLD HOME BOUSE" 
 
 - What s the matter with those dishes any 
 thing? " 
 
 Bill turned and looked at him. "Why, no, * 
 he says, slow. "They re all right of their kind." 
 And off he put again. 
 
 But Eddie wa n t satisfied. He turns to me. 
 "By George!" he says. "What is it? Does 
 he think they re fakes ? 
 
 I didn t know, so I shook my head. Small 
 fidgetted, looked at Peter, and then run after 
 Saltmarsh. Milo had just raised the bid. 
 
 "One hundred and thirty-three" hollers Peter, 
 fetching the tea chest a belt. "One thirty-four 
 do I hear ? Make it one thirty-three fifty. Fifty 
 cents do I hear ? Come, come! this is highway rob 
 bery, gentlemen. Mr. Small where are you ?" 
 
 But Eddie was talking to Saltmarsh. In a 
 minute back he comes, looking more worried 
 than ever. Peter T. bawled and pounded and 
 beckoned at him with the mallet, but he only 
 fidgetted didn t know what to do. 
 
 "One thirty-three!" bellers Peter. "One 
 thirty-three! Oh, how can I look my grand 
 mother s picture in the face after this ? One 
 thirty-three once ! One thirty-three twice! 
 Third and last call! One thirty- 
 Then Eddie begun to raise his hand, but* twas 
 too late.
 
 THE ANTIQUERS 227 
 
 "One thirty-three and SOLD! To Mr. Milo 
 Thompson for one hundred and thirty-three 
 dollars!" 
 
 And just then come a shriek from the piazza; 
 the Duchess and "Irene dear" had come out 
 of the parlor. 
 
 Well! Talk about crowing! The way that 
 Thompson crowd rubbed it in on the Smalls was 
 enough to make you leave the dinner table. They 
 had the servants take in them dishes, piece by 
 piece, and every single article, down to the last 
 butter plate, was steered straight by the Small 
 crowd. 
 
 As for poor Eddie, when he come up to ex 
 plain why he hadn t kept on bidding, his wife 
 put him out like he was a tin lamp. 
 
 "Don t speak to me!" says she. "Don t you 
 dare speak to me." 
 
 He didn t dare. He just run up a storm sail 
 and beat for harbor back of the barn. And 
 from the piazza Milo cackled vainglorious. 
 
 Me and Cap n Jonadab and Peter T. felt 
 so sorry for Eddie, knowing what he had coming 
 to him from the Duchess, that we went out to 
 see him. He was setting on a wrecked hencoop* 
 looking heart-broke but puzzled. 
 
 "Twas that Saltmarsh made me lose my nerve," 
 he says. "I thought when he wouldn t bid there
 
 228 THE "OLD HOME HOUSE" 
 
 was something wrong with the dishes. And 
 there was something wrong, too. Now what 
 was it ? " 
 
 " Maybe the price was too high," says I. 
 
 "No, twa n t that. I b lieve yet he thought 
 they were imitations. Oh, if they only were!" 
 
 And then, lo and behold you, around the corner 
 comes Adoniram Rogers. I d have bet large 
 that whatever conscience Adoniram was born 
 with had dried up and blown away years ago. 
 But no; he d resurrected a remnant. 
 
 "Mr. Small," stammered Mr. Rogers, "I m 
 sorry you feel bad about not buying them dishes. 
 I I thought I d ought to tell you that is to 
 say, I Well, if you want another set, I cal late 
 I can get it for you that is, if you won t tell 
 nobody." 
 
 "Another set?" hollers Eddie, wide-eyed. 
 "Anoth Do you mean to say you ve got 
 more? 
 
 "Why, I ain t exactly got em now, but my 
 nephew John keeps a furniture store in South 
 Boston, and he has lots of sets like that. I bought 
 that one off him." 
 
 Peter T. Brown jumps to his feet. 
 
 "Why, you outrageous robber!" he hollers. 
 "Didn t you say those dishes were old ? 
 
 "I never said nothing, except that they were
 
 THE ANTIQUERS 229 
 
 like the plate that feller had on the piazza. And 
 they was, too. Ton folks said they was old, and 
 I thought you d ought to know, so " 
 
 Eddie Small threw up both hands. "Fakes!" 
 he hollers. "Fakes! And Thompson paid one 
 hundred and thirty-three dollars for em! Boys, 
 there s times when life s worth living. Have a 
 drink." 
 
 We went into the billard-room and took some 
 thing; that is, Peter and Eddie took that kind 
 of something. Me and Jonadab took cigars. 
 
 "Fellers," said Eddie, "drink hearty. I m 
 going in to tell my wife. Fake dishes! And I 
 beat Thompson on the davenport." 
 
 He went away bubbling like a biling spring. 
 After he was gone Rogers looked thoughtful. 
 
 "That s funny, too, ain t it ? " he says. 
 
 "What s funny ? " we asked. 
 
 "Why, about that sofy he calls a davenport. 
 You see, I bought that off John, too," says Ado- 
 niram.
 
 HIS NATIVE HEATH
 
 HIS NATIVE HEATH 
 
 I never could quite understand why the folks 
 at Wellmouth made me selectman. I s pose 
 likely twas on account of Jonadab and me and 
 Peter Brown making such a go of the Old Home 
 House and turning Wellmouth Port from a sand 
 fleas paradise into a hospital where city folks 
 could have their bank accounts amputated and 
 not suffer more n was necessary. Anyway, I 
 was elected unanimous at town meeting, and 
 Peter was mighty anxious for me to take the job. 
 
 "Barzilla," says Peter, "I jedge that a select 
 man is a sort of dwarf alderman. Now, I ve 
 had friends who ve been aldermen, and they say 
 it s a sure thing, like shaking with your own dice. 
 If you re straight, there s the honor and the 
 advertisement; if you re crooked, there s the 
 graft. Either way the house wins. Go in, and 
 glory be with you." 
 
 So I finally agreed to serve, and the very first 
 Meeting I went to, the question of Asaph Blue* 
 
 233
 
 234 THE "OLD HOME HOUSE" 
 
 worthy and the poorhouse comes up. Zoeth 
 Tiddit he was town clerk he puts it this 
 way: 
 
 "Gentlemen," he says, "we have here the 
 usual application from Asaph Blueworthy for 
 aid from the town. I don t know s there s much 
 use for me to read it it s tolerable familiar. 
 Suffering from lumbago and rheumatiz um, 
 yes. Out of work um, just so. Respect 
 fully begs that the board will etcetery and so 
 forth. Well, gentlemen, what s your pleasure ? M 
 
 Darius Gott, he speaks first, and dry and 
 drawling as ever. " Out of work, hey ? " says 
 Darius. "Mr. Chairman, I should like to ask 
 if anybody here remembers the time when Ase 
 was in work ? " 
 
 Nobody did, and Cap n Benijah Poundberry 
 he was chairman at that time he fetches the 
 table a welt with his starboard fist and comes 
 out emphatic. 
 
 "Feller members," says he, "I don t know 
 how the rest of you feel, but it s my opinion that 
 this board has done too much for that lazy loafer 
 already. Long s his sister, Thankful, lived, we 
 couldn t say nothing, of course. If she wanted 
 to slave and work so s her brother could live in 
 idleness and sloth, why, that was her business. 
 There ain t any law against a body s making a
 
 HIS NATIVE HEATH 235 
 
 fool of herself, more s the pity. But she s been 
 dead a year, and he s done nothing since but 
 live on those that ll trust him, and ask help from 
 the town. He ain t sick except sick of work. 
 Now, it s my idea that, long s he s bound to be 
 a pauper, he might s well be treated as a pauper. 
 Let s send him to the poorhouse." 
 
 "But," says I, "he owns his place down there 
 by the shore, don t he ? " 
 
 All hands laughed that is, all but Cap n 
 Benijah. "Own nothing," says the cap n. "The 
 whole rat trap, from the keel to maintruck, ain t 
 worth more n three hundred dollars, and I loaned 
 Thankful four hundred on it years ago, and the 
 mortgage fell due last September. Not a cent 
 of principal, interest, nor rent have I got since. 
 Whether he goes to the poorhouse or not, he 
 goes out of that house of mine to-morrer. A 
 man can smite me on one cheek and maybe I ll 
 turn t other, but when, after I have turned it, 
 he finds fault cause my face hurts his hand, 
 then I rise up and quit; you hear me!" 
 
 Nobody could help hearing him, unless they 
 was deefer than the feller that fell out of the bal 
 loon and couldn t hear himself strike, so all 
 hands agreed that sending Asaph Blueworthy 
 to the poorhouse would be a good thing. Twould 
 be a lesson to Ase, and would give the poorhouse
 
 236 THE "OLD HOME HOUSE" 
 
 one more excuse for being on earth. Wellmouth s 
 a fairly prosperous town, and the paupers had 
 died, one after the other, and no new ones had 
 come, until all there was left in the poorhouse was 
 old Betsy Mullen, who was down with creeping 
 palsy, and Deborah Badger, who d been keeper 
 ever since her husband died. 
 
 The poorhouse property was valuable, too, 
 specially for a summer cottage, being out on 
 the end of Robbin s Point, away from the town, 
 and having a fine view right across the bay. 
 Zoeth Tiddit was a committee of one with power 
 from the town to sell the place, but he hadn t 
 found a customer yet. And if he did sell it, 
 what to do with Debby was more or less of a 
 question. She d kept poorhouse for years, and 
 had no other home nor no relations to go to. 
 Everybody liked her, too that is, everybody 
 but Cap n Benijah. He was down on her cause 
 she was a Spiritualist and believed in fortune 
 tellers and such. The cap n, bein* a deacon of 
 the Come-Outer persuasion, was naturally down 
 on folks who wasn t broad-minded enough to see 
 that his partic lar crack in the roof was the only 
 way to crawl through to glory. 
 
 Well, we voted to send Asaph to the poor 
 house, and then I was appointed a delegate to 
 see him and tell him he d got to go. I wasn t
 
 HIS NATIVE HEATH 237 
 
 enthusiastic over the job, but everybody said I 
 was exactly the feller for the place. 
 
 "To tell you the truth," drawls Darius, "you, 
 being a stranger, are the only one that Ase couldn t 
 talk over. He s got a tongue that s buttered on 
 both sides and runs on ball bearings. If I should 
 see him he d work on my sympathies till I d 
 lend him the last two-cent piece in my baby s 
 bank." 
 
 So, as there wa n t no way out of it, I drove 
 down to Asaph s that afternoon. He lived off 
 on a side road by the shore, in a little, run-down 
 shanty that was as no account as he was. When 
 I moored my horse to the "heavenly-wood" 
 tree by what was left of the fence, I would have bet 
 my sou wester that I caught a glimpse of Brother 
 Blueworthy, peeking round the corner of the 
 house. But when I turned that corner there was 
 nobody in sight, although the bu sted wash- 
 bench, with a cranberry crate propping up its 
 lame end, was shaking a little, as if some one 
 had set on it recent. 
 
 I knocked on the door, but nobody answered. 
 After knocking three or four times, I tried kick- 
 ing, and the second kick raised, from somewheres 
 inside, a groan that was as lonesome a sound as 
 ever I heard. No human noise in my experience 
 come within a mile of it for dead, downright
 
 238 THE "OLD HOME HOUSE" 
 
 misery unless, maybe, it s Cap n Jonadab try 
 ing to sing in meeting Sundays. 
 
 "Who s that?" wails Ase from tother side 
 of the door. "Did anybody knock ? " 
 
 "Knock!" says I. "I all but kicked your 
 everlasting derelict out of water. It s me, Win- 
 gate one of the selectmen. Tumble up, there! 
 I want to talk to you." 
 
 Blueworthy didn t exactly tumble, so s to speak, 
 but the door opened, and he comes shuffling and 
 groaning into sight. His face was twisted up 
 and he had one hand spread-fingered on the 
 small of his back. 
 
 "Dear, dear!" says he. "I m dreadful sorry 
 to have kept you waiting, Mr. Wingate. I ve 
 been wrastling with this tumble lumbago, and 
 I m fraid it s affecting my hearing. I ll tell 
 you " 
 
 "Yes well, you needn t mind," I says; 
 " cordin to common tell, you was born with that 
 same kind of lumbago, and it s been getting no 
 better fast ever since. Jest drag your suffer 
 ings out onto this bench and come to anchor. 
 I ve got considerable to say, and I m in a 
 hurry." 
 
 Well, he grunted, and groaned, and scuffled 
 along. When he d got planted on the bench 
 he didn t let up any kept on with the misery.
 
 HIS NATIVE HEATH 239 
 
 "Look here," says I, losing patience, "when 
 you get through with the Job business I ll heave 
 ahead and talk. Don t let me interrupt the 
 lamentations on no account. Finished ? All 
 right. Now, you listen to me." 
 
 And then I told him just how matters stood. 
 His house was to be seized on the mortgage, and 
 he was to move to the poorhouse next day. You 
 never see a man more surprised or worse cut 
 up. Him to the poorhouse ? Him one of the 
 oldest families on the Cape ? You d think he 
 was the Grand Panjandrum. Well, the dignity 
 didn t work, so he commenced on the lumbago; 
 and that didn t work, neither. But do you think 
 he give up the ship? Not much; he com 
 menced to explain why he hadn t been able to 
 earn a living and the reasons why he d ought to 
 have another chance. Talk! Well, if I hadn t 
 been warned he d have landed me, all right. 1 
 never heard a better sermon nor one with more 
 long words in it. 
 
 I actually pitied him. It seemed a shame 
 that a feller who could argue like that should 
 have to go to the poorhouse; he d ought to run 
 a summer hotel when the boarders kicked 
 cause there was yeller-eyed beans in the coffee 
 he would be the one to explain that they was 
 lucky to get beans like that without paying extra
 
 240 THE "OLD HOME HOUSE" 
 
 for em. Thinks I, "I m an idiot, but I ll make 
 him one more offer." 
 
 So I says*. "See here, Mr. Blueworthy, I 
 could use another man in the stable at the Old 
 Home House. If you want the job you can 
 have it. Only, you ll have to work, and work 
 hard." 
 
 Well, sir, would you believe it ? his face fell 
 like a cook-book cake. That kind of chance 
 wa n t what he was looking for. He shuffled and 
 hitched around, and finally he says: "I ll I ll 
 consider your offer," he says. 
 
 That was too many for me. "Well, I ll be 
 yardarmed!" says I, and went off and left him 
 "considering." I don t know what his considera 
 tions amounted to. All I know is that next day 
 they took him to the poorhouse. 
 
 And from now on this yarn has got to be more 
 or less hearsay. I ll have to put this and that 
 together, like the woman that made the mince 
 meat. Some of the facts I got from a cousin of 
 Deborah Badger s, some of them I wormed out 
 of Asaph himself one time when he d had a jug 
 come down from the city and was feeling toler ble 
 philanthropic and conversationy. But I guess 
 they re straight enough. 
 
 Seems that, while I was down notifying Blue- 
 worthy, Cap n Poundberry had gone over to the
 
 HIS NATIFE HEATH 241 
 
 poorhouse to tell the Widow Badger about her 
 new boarder. The widow was glad to hear the 
 news. 
 
 "He ll be somebody to talk to, at any rate," 
 says she. "Poor old Betsy Mullen ain t exactly 
 what you d call company for a sociable body. 
 But I ll mind what you say, Cap n Benijah. It 
 takes more than a slick tongue to come it over 
 me. I ll make that lazy man work or know the 
 reason why." 
 
 So when Asaph arrived per truck wagon 
 at three o clock the next afternoon, Mrs. Bad 
 ger was ready for him. She didn t wait to shake 
 hands or say: "Glad to see you." No, sirl 
 The minute he landed she sent him out by the 
 barn with orders to chop a couple of cords of 
 oak slabs that was piled there. He groaned 
 and commenced to develop lumbago symptoms, 
 but she cured em in a hurry by remarking that 
 her doctor s book said vig rous exercise was the 
 best physic for that kind of disease, and so he 
 must chop hard. She waited till she heard the 
 ax "chunk" once or twice, and then she went 
 into the house, figgering that she d gained the 
 first lap, anyhow. 
 
 But in an hour or so it come over her all of a 
 sudden that twas awful quiet out by the wood 
 pile. She hurried to the back door, and there
 
 242 THE "OLD HOME HOUSE" 
 
 was Ase, setting on the ground in the shade, his 
 eyes shut and his back against the chopping 
 block, and one poor lonesome slab in front of 
 him with a couple of splinters knocked off it. 
 That was his afternoon s work. 
 
 Maybe you think the widow wa n t mad. She 
 tip-toed out to the wood-pile, grabbed her new 
 boarder by the coat collar and shook him till his 
 head played "Johnny Comes Marching Home" 
 against the chopping block. 
 
 "You lazy thing, you!" says she, with her 
 eyes snapping. "Wake up and tell me what 
 you mean by sleeping when I told you to work." 
 
 "Sleep?" stutters Asaph, kind of reaching 
 out with his mind for a life-preserver. "I I 
 wa n t asleep." 
 
 Well, I don t think he had really meant to sleep. 
 I guess he just set down to think of a good brand 
 new excuse for not working, and kind of drowsed 
 off. 
 
 "You wa n t hey? " says Deborah, "Then 
 twas the best imitation ever / see. What was 
 you doing, if tain t too personal a question ? 
 
 "I I guess I must have fainted. I m subject 
 to such spells. You see, ma am, I ain t been 
 we ll for " 
 
 "Yes, I know. I understand all about that. 
 Now, you march your boots into that house.
 
 HIS NATIFE HEATH 
 
 where I can keep an eye on you, and help me get 
 supper. To-morrer morning you ll get up at 
 five o clock and chop wood till breakfast time. 
 If I think you ve chopped enough, maybe you ll 
 
 THAT WAS His AFTERNOON S WORK. 
 
 get the breakfast. If I don t think so you ll 
 keep on chopping. Now, march!" 
 
 Blueworthy, he marched, but twa n t as joy 
 ful a parade as an Odd Fellers picnic. He could 
 see he d made a miscue a clean miss, and the 
 white ball in the pocket. He knew, too, that a
 
 244 THE "OLD HOME HOUSE" 
 
 lot depended on his making a good impression 
 the first thing, and instead of that he d gone and 
 "foozled his approach," as that city feller said 
 last summer when he ran the catboat plump 
 into the end of the pier. Deborah, she went 
 out into the kitchen, but she ordered Ase to stay 
 in the dining room and set the table; told him 
 to get the dishes out of the closet. 
 
 All the time he was doing it he kept thinking 
 about the mistake he d made, and wondering if 
 there wa n t some way to square up and get 
 solid with the widow. Asaph was a good deal 
 of a philosopher, and his motto was so he told 
 me afterward, that time I spoke of when he d 
 been investigating the jug his motto was : " Every 
 hard shell has a soft spot somewheres, and after 
 you find it, it s easy." If he could only find out 
 something that Deborah Badger was particular 
 interested in, then he believed he could make a 
 ten-strike. And, all at once, down in the cor 
 ner of the closet, he see a big pile of papers and 
 magazines. The one >in vop was the Banner 
 of Light, and underneath that was the Mys 
 terious Magazine. 
 
 Then he remembered, all of a sudden, the 
 town talk about Debby s believing in mediums 
 and spooks and fortune tellers and such. And 
 he commenced to set up and take notice.
 
 HIS NATIVE HEATH 24$ 
 
 At the supper table he was as mum as a run 
 down clock; just set in his chair and looked at 
 Mrs. Badger. She got nervous and fidgety after 
 a spell, and fin lly bu sts out with: "What are 
 you staring at me like that for ? " 
 
 Ase kind of jumped and looked surprised. 
 "Staring? " says he. "Was I staring? " 
 
 "I should think you was! Is my hair coming 
 down, or what is it ? " 
 
 He didn t answer for a minute, but he looked 
 over her head and then away acrost the room, 
 as if he was watching something that moved. 
 "Your husband was a short, kind of fleshy man, 
 as I remember, wa n t he ? " says he, absent- 
 minded like. 
 
 "Course he was. But what in the world " 
 
 "Twa n t him, then. I thought not." 
 
 "Him? My husband ? What do you mean ? " 
 
 And then Asaph begun to put on the fine 
 touches. He leaned acrost the table and says 
 he, in a sort of mysterious whisper: "Mrs. 
 B^d^er," says he, "do you ever see things ? Not 
 common things, but strange shadders like ? 
 
 "Mercy me!" says the widow. "No. Do 
 you? " 
 
 "Sometimes seems s if I did. Jest now, as 
 I set here looking at you, it seemed as if I saw a 
 man come up and put his hand on your shoulder."
 
 246 THE "OLD HOME HOUSE" 
 
 Well, you can imagine Debby. She jumped 
 out of her chair and whirled around like a kitten 
 in a fit. "Good land!" she hollers. "Where? 
 What ? Who was it ? " 
 
 "I don t know who twas. His face was cov 
 ered up; but it kind of come to me a communi 
 cation, as you might say that some day that 
 man was going to marry you." 
 
 "Land of love! Marry me? You re crazy! 
 I m scart to death." 
 
 Ase shook his head, more mysterious than ever. 
 "I don t know," says he. "Maybe I am crazy. 
 But I see that same man this afternoon, when I 
 was in that trance, and " 
 
 "Trance! Do you mean to tell me you was 
 in a trance out there by the wood-pile f Are you 
 a medium? 
 
 Well, Ase, he wouldn t admit that he was a 
 medium exactly, but he give her to understand 
 that there wa n t many mediums in this coun 
 try that could do business longside of him when 
 he was really working. Course he made believe 
 he didn t want to talk about such things, and, 
 likewise of course, that made Debby all the more 
 anxious to talk about em. She found out that 
 her new boarder was subject to trances and had 
 second-sight and could draw horoscopes, and I 
 don t know what all. Particular she wanted to
 
 HIS NATIVE HEATH 24; 
 
 know more about that "man" that was going 
 to marry her, but Asaph wouldn t say much about 
 him. 
 
 "All I can say is," says Ase, "that he didn t 
 appear to me like a common man. He was sort 
 of familiar looking, and yet there was something 
 distinguished about him, something uncommon, 
 as you might say. But this much comes to me 
 strong: He s a man any woman would be proud 
 to get, arid some time he s coming to offer you a 
 good home. You won t have to keep poorhouse 
 all your days." 
 
 So the widow went up to her room with what 
 you might call a case of delightful horrors. She 
 was too scart to sleep and frightened to stay awake. 
 She kept two lamps burning all night. 
 
 As for Asaph, he waited till twas still, and then 
 he crept downstairs to the closet, got an armful 
 of Banners of Light and Mysterious Magazines, 
 and went back to his room to study up. Next 
 morning there was nothing said about wood chop 
 ping Ase was busy making preparations to draw 
 Debby s horoscope. 
 
 You can see how things went after that. Blue- 
 worthy was star boarder at that poorhouse. Mrs. 
 Badger was too much interested in spooks and 
 fortunes to think of asking him to work, and if 
 she did hint at such a thing, he d have another
 
 248 THE "OLD HOME HOUSE" 
 
 "trance" and see that "man," and twas all off. 
 And we poor fools of selectmen was congratulat 
 ing ourselves that Ase Blueworthy was doing 
 something toward earning his keep at last. And 
 then long in July twas Betsy Mullen died. 
 
 One evening, just after the Fourth, Deborah 
 and Asaph was in the dining room, figgering 
 out fortunes with a pack of cards, when there 
 comes a knock at the door. The widow answered 
 it, and there was an old chap, dressed in a blue 
 suit, and a stunning pretty girl in what these 
 summer women make believe is a sea-going rig. 
 And both of em was sopping wet through, and 
 as miserable as two hens in a rain barrel. 
 
 It turned out that the man s name was La- 
 mont, with a colonel s pennant and a million- 
 dollar mark on the foretop of it, and the girl was 
 his daughter Mabel. They d been paying six 
 dollars a day each for sea air and clam soup over 
 to the Wattagonsett House, in Harniss, and 
 either the soup or the air had affected the coU 
 onel s head till he imagined he could sail a boat 
 all by his ownty-donty. Well, he d sailed one 
 acrost the bay and got becalmed, and then the 
 tide took him in amongst the shoals at the mouth 
 of Wellmouth Crick, and there, owing to a mix- 
 up of tide, shoals, dark, and an overdose of fool 
 ishness, the boat had upset and foundered and
 
 HIS NATIVE HEATH 249 
 
 the Laments had waded half a mile or so to shore. 
 Once on dry land, they d headed up the bluff 
 for the only port in sight, which was the poor- 
 house although they didn t know it. 
 
 The widow and Asaph made em as com 
 fortable as they could; rigged em up in dry 
 clothes which had belonged to departed paupers, 
 and got em something to eat. The Laments 
 was what they called "enchanted" with the 
 whole establishment. 
 
 "This," says the colonel, with his mouth full 
 of brown bread, "is delightful, really delightful. 
 The New England hospitality that we read about. 
 So free from ostentation and conventionality." 
 
 When you stop to think of it, you d scurcely 
 expect to run acrost much ostentation at the poor- 
 house, but, of course, the colonel didn t know, 
 and he praised everything so like Sam Hill, that 
 the widow was ashamed to break the news to 
 him. And Ase kept quiet, too, you can be sure 
 of that. As for Mabel, she was one of them gushy, 
 goo-gooey kind of girls, and she was as struck 
 with the shebang as her dad. She said the house 
 itself was a "perfect dear." 
 
 And after supper they paired off and got to 
 talking, the colonel with Mrs. Badger, and 
 Asaph with Mabel. Now, I can just imagine 
 how Ase talked to that poor, unsuspecting young
 
 250 THE "OLD HOME HOUSE" 
 
 female. He sartin did love an audience, and 
 here was one that didn t know him nor his his 
 tory, nor nothing. He played the sad and mys 
 terious. You could see that he was a blighted 
 bud, all right. He was a man with a hidden 
 sorrer, and the way he d sigh and change the sub 
 ject when it come to embarrassing questions was 
 enough to bring tears to a graven image, let alone 
 a romantic girl just out of boarding school. 
 
 Then, after a spell of this, Mabel wanted to be 
 shown the house, so as to see the "sweet, old- 
 fashioned rooms." And she wanted papa to see 
 em, too, so Ase led the way, like the talking man 
 in the dime museum. And the way them La- 
 monts agonized over every rag mat, and corded 
 bedstead was something past belief. When they 
 was saying good-night they had to stay all night 
 because their own clothes wa n t dry and those 
 they had on were more picturesque than stylish 
 Mabel turns to her father and says she: 
 
 "Papa, dear," she says, "I believe that at last 
 we ve found the very thing we ve been looking for." 
 
 And the colonel said yes, he guessed they had. 
 
 Next morning they was up early and out enjoy 
 ing the view; it is about the best view alongshore, 
 and they had a fit over it. When breakfast was 
 done the Lamonts takes Asaph one side and the 
 colonel says
 
 HIS NATIVE HEATH 251 
 
 "Mr. Blueworthy," he says, "my daughter 
 and I am very much pleased with the Cape and 
 the Cape people. Some time ago we made up 
 our minds that if we could find the right spot 
 we would build a summer home here. Pref 
 erably we wish to purchase a typical, old-time, 
 Colonial homestead and remodel it, retaining, 
 of course, all the original old-fashioned flavor. 
 Cost is not so much the consideration as location 
 and the house itself. We are ahem! well, 
 frankly, your place here suits us exactly." 
 
 "We adore it," says Mabel, emphatic. 
 
 "Mr. Blueworthy," goes on the colonel, "will 
 you sell us your home ? I am prepared to pay 
 a liberal price." 
 
 Poor Asaph was kind of throwed on his beam 
 ends, so s to speak. He hemmed and hawed, 
 and finally had to blurt out that he didn t own 
 the place. The Laments was astonished. The 
 colonel wanted to know if it belonged to Mrs. 
 Badger. 
 
 "Why, no," says Ase. "The fact is that is 
 to say you see 
 
 And just then the widow opened the kitchen 
 window and called to em. 
 
 "Colonel Lament," says she, "there s a sail 
 boat beating up the harbor, and I think the folks 
 on it are looking for you."
 
 252 THE "OLD HOME HOUSE" 
 
 The colonel excused himself, and run off down 
 the hill toward the back side of the point, and 
 Asaph was left alone with the girl. He see, I 
 s pose, that here was his chance to make the best 
 yarn out of what was bound to come out any 
 how in a few minutes. So he fetched a sigh that 
 sounded as if twas racking loose the founda 
 tions and commenced. 
 
 He asked Mabel if she was prepared to hear 
 something that would shock her tumble, some 
 thing that would undermine her confidence in 
 human natur . She was a good deal upset, and 
 no wonder, but she braced up and let on that 
 she guessed she could stand it. So then he told 
 her that her dad and her had been deceived, that 
 that house wa n t his nor Mrs. Badger s; twas 
 the Wellmouth poor farm, and he was a pauper. 
 
 She was shocked, all right enough, but afore 
 she had a chance to ask a question, he begun to 
 tell her the story of his life. Twas a fine chance 
 for him to spread himself, and I cal late he done 
 it to the skipper s taste. He told her how him 
 and his sister had lived in their little home, their 
 own little nest, over there by the shore, for years 
 and years. He led her out to where she could 
 see the roof of his old shanty over the sand hills, 
 and he wiped his eyes and raved over it. You d 
 think that tumble-down shack was a hunk out
 
 HIS NATIVE HEATH 253 
 
 of paradise; Adam and Eve s place in the Gar 
 den was a short lobster longside of it. Then, 
 he said, he was took down with an incurable 
 disease. He tried and tried to get along, but 
 twas no go. He mortgaged the shanty to a 
 grasping money lender meanin Poundberry 
 and that money was spent. Then his sister 
 passed away and his heart broke; so they took 
 him to the poorhouse. 
 
 "Miss Lamont," says he, "good-by. Some 
 times in the midst of your fashionable career, 
 in your gayety and so forth, pause," he says, 
 "and give a thought to the broken-hearted pau 
 per who has told you his life tragedy." 
 
 Well, now, you take a green girl, right fresh 
 from novels and music lessons, and spring that 
 on her what can you expect ? Mabel, she cried 
 and took on dreadful. 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Blueworthy!" says she, grabbing 
 his hand. "I m so glad you told me. I m so 
 glad! Cheer up," she says. "I respect you 
 more than ever, and my father and I will 
 
 Just then the colonel comes puffing up the 
 hill. He looked as if he d heard news. 
 
 "My child," he says in a kind of horrified 
 whisper, "can you realize that we have actually 
 passed the night in the in the almshouse? 
 
 Mabel held up her hand. "Hush, papa,"
 
 254 THE "OLD HOME HOUSE" 
 
 she says. "Hush. I know all about it. Come 
 away, quick; I ve got something very impor 
 tant to say to you." 
 
 And she took her dad s arm and went off down 
 the hill, mopping her pretty eyes with her hand 
 kerchief and smiling back, every once in a while, 
 through her tears, at Asaph. 
 
 Now, it happened that there was a selectmen s 
 meeting that afternoon at four o clock. I was 
 on hand, and so was Zoeth Tiddit and most of 
 the others. Cap n Poundberry and Darius Gott 
 were late. Zoeth was as happy as a clam at high 
 water; he d sold the poorhouse property that 
 very day to a Colonel Lamont, from Harniss, 
 who wanted it for a summer place. 
 
 "And I got the price we set on it, too," says 
 Zoeth. "But that wa n t the funniest part of it. 
 Seems s old man Lamont and his daughter was 
 very much upset because Debby Badger and Ase 
 Blueworthy would be turned out of house and 
 home count of the place being sold. The col 
 onel was hot foot for giving em a check for five 
 hundred dollars to square things; said his daugh- 
 ter d made him promise he would. Says I: 
 You can give it to Debby, if you want to, but 
 don t lay a copper on that Blueworthy fraud/ 
 Then I told him the truth about Ase. He couldn t 
 hardly believe it, but I finally convinced him,
 
 HIS NATIVE HEATH 255 
 
 and he made out the check to Debby. I took it 
 down to her myself just after dinner. Ase was 
 there, and his eyes pretty nigh popped out of his 
 head. 
 
 "Look here, I says to him; *if you d been 
 worth a continental you might have had some 
 of this. As it is, you ll be farmed out somewheres 
 that s what ll happen to you." 
 
 And as Zoeth was telling this, in comes Cap n 
 Benijah. He was happy, too. 
 
 "I cal late the Laments must be buying all 
 the property alongshore," he says when he heard 
 the news. "I sold that old shack that I took 
 from Blueworthy to that Lament girl to-day 
 for three hundred and fifty dollars. She wouldn t 
 say what she wanted of it, neither, and I didn t 
 care much; 7 was glad to get rid of it." 
 
 "7 can tell you what she wanted of it," says 
 somebody behind us. We turned round and 
 twas Gott; he d come in. "I just met Squire 
 Foster," he says, "and the squire tells me that 
 that Lament girl come into his office with the 
 bill of sale for the property you sold her and 
 made him deed it right over to Ase Blueworthy, 
 as a present from her." 
 
 " What? " says all hands, Poundberry loudest 
 Of all. 
 
 "That s right," said Darius. "She told the
 
 256 THE "OLD HOME HOUSE" 
 
 squire a long rigamarole about what a martyr 
 Ase was, and how her dad was going to do some 
 thing for him, but that she was going to give him 
 his home back again with her own money, money 
 her father had given her to buy a ring with, she 
 said, though that ain t reasonable, of course no- 
 body d pay that much for a ring. The squire tried 
 to tell her what a no-good Ase was, but she froze 
 him quicker n Where you going, Cap n Benije ?" 
 
 "I m going down to that poorhouse," hollers 
 Poundberry. "I ll find out the rights and wrongs 
 of this thing mighty quick." 
 
 We all said we d go with him, and we w r ent, 
 six in one carryall. As we hove in sight of the 
 poorhouse a buggy drove away from it, going in 
 t other direction. 
 
 "That looks like the Baptist minister s buggy," 
 says Darius. "What on earth s he been down 
 here for ? " 
 
 Nobody could guess. As we run alongside the 
 poorhouse door, Ase Blueworthy stepped out, leading 
 Debby Badger. She was as red as an auction flag. 
 
 "By time, Ase Blueworthy!" hollers Cap n 
 Benijah, starting to get out of the carryall, "what 
 do you mean by Debby, what are you 
 holding that rascal s hand for ? " 
 
 But Ase cut him short. "Cap n Poundberry," 
 says he, dignified as a boy with a stiff" neck, "I
 
 HIS NATIVE HEATH 257 
 
 might pass over your remarks to me, but when 
 you address my wn e " 
 
 "Your wife? hollers everybody everybody 
 but the cap n; he only sort of gurgled. 
 
 "My wife," says Asaph. "When you men 
 church members, too, some of you sold the house 
 over her head, I m proud to say that I, having 
 a home once more, was able to step for ard and 
 jsk her to share it with me. We was. married 
 I few minutes ago," he says. 
 
 "And, oh, Cap n Poundberry!" cried Debby, 
 ooking as if this was the most wonderful part 
 of it "oh, Cap n Poundberry!" she says, "we ve 
 known for a long time that some man an un 
 common kind of man was coming to offer me 
 a home some day, but even Asaph didn t know 
 twas himself; did you, Asaph ? " 
 
 We selectmen talked the thing over going home, 
 but Cap n Benijah didn t speak till we was turn 
 ing in at his gate. Then he fetched his knee 
 a thump with his fist, and says he, in the most 
 disgusted tone ever I heard: 
 
 "A house and lot for nothing," he says, "a 
 wife to do the work for him, and five hundred 
 dollars to spend ! Sometimes the way this world s 
 run gives me moral indigestion." 
 
 W T hich was tolerable radical for a Come-Outer 
 to say, seems to me.
 
 JONESY
 
 JONESY 
 
 Twas Peter T. Brown that suggested it, you 
 might know. And, as likewise you might know, 
 twas Cap n Jonadab that done the most of the 
 growling. 
 
 "They ain t no sense in it, Peter," says he. 
 "Education s all right in its place, but tain t 
 no good out of it. Why, one of my last voyages 
 in the schooner Samuel Emory, I had a educated 
 cook, feller that had graduated from one of them 
 correspondence schools. He had his diploma 
 framed and hung up on the wall of the galley 
 along with tintypes of two or three of his wives, 
 and pictures cut out of the Police News, and 
 the like of that. And cook! Why, say! one 
 of the fo mast hands ate half a dozen of that 
 cook s saleratus biscuit and fell overboard. If 
 he hadn t been tangled up in his cod line, so we 
 could haul him up by that, he d have been down 
 yet. He d never have riz of his own accord, not 
 with them biscuits in him. And as for his pie! 
 the mate ate one of them bakeshop paper plates 
 
 261
 
 262 THE "OLD HOME HOUSE" 
 
 one time, thinking twas under crust; and he 
 kept sayin how unusual tender twas, at that. 
 Now, what good was education to that cook ? 
 Why " 
 
 "Cut it out!" says Peter T., disgusted. "Who s 
 talking about cooks ? These fellers ain t cooks 
 they re " 
 
 "I know. They re waiters. Now, there tis 
 again. When I give an order and there s any 
 back talk, I want to understand it- You take 
 a passe) of college fellers, like you want to hire 
 for waiters. S pose I tell one of em to do some 
 thing, and he answers back in Greek or Hindoo, 
 or such. / can t tell what he says. I sha n t 
 know whether to bang him over the head or give 
 him a cigar. What s the matter with the waiters 
 we had last year ? They talked Irish, of course, 
 but I understood the most of that, and when I 
 didn t twas safe to roll up my sleeves and begin 
 arguing. But " 
 
 "Oh, ring off!" says Peter. "Twenty-three!" 
 
 And so they had it, back and forth. I didn t 
 say nothing. I knew how twould end. If 
 Peter T. Brown thought twas good judgment 
 to hire a mess of college boys for waiters, fellers 
 who could order up the squab in pigeon-English 
 and the ham in hog-Latin, I didn t care, so long 
 as the orders and boarders got rilled and the pay-
 
 JONEST 263 
 
 roll didn t have growing pains. I had consid 
 erable faith in Brown s ideas, and he was as set 
 on this one as a Brahma hen on a plaster nest- 
 egg- 
 
 "It ll give tone to the shebang," says he, re 
 ferring to the hotel; "and we want to keep the 
 Old Home House as high-toned as a ten-story 
 organ factory. And as for education, that s a 
 matter of taste. Me, I d just as soon have a 
 waiter that bashfully admitted Wee, my dam/ as 
 I would one that pushed Shur-r-e, Moike! edge 
 ways out of one corner of his mouth and served 
 the lettuce on top of the lobster, from principle, 
 to keep the green above the red. When it comes 
 to tone and tin, Cap n, you trust your Uncle 
 Pete; he hasn t been sniffling around the tainted- 
 money bunch all these days with a cold in his 
 head." 
 
 So it went his way finally, as I knew it would, 
 and when the Old Home opened up on June 
 first, the college waiters was on hand. And they 
 was as nice a lot of boys as ever handled plates 
 and wiped dishes for their board and four dol 
 lars a week. They was poor, of course, and 
 working their passage through what they called 
 the "varsity," but they attended to business and 
 wa n t a mite set up by their learning. 
 
 And they made a hit with the boarders, espe-
 
 264 THE "OLD HOME HOUSE" 
 
 cially the women folks. Take the crankiest 
 old battle ship that ever cruised into breakfast 
 with diamond headlights showing and a pretty 
 daughter in tow, and she would eat lumpy oat 
 meal and scorched eggs and never sound a distress 
 signal. How could she, with one of them nice- 
 looking gentlemanly waiters hanging over her 
 starboard beam and purring, "Certainly, madam," 
 and "Two lumps or one, madam?" into her 
 ear ? Then, too, she hadn t much time to find 
 fault with the grub, having to keep one eye on 
 the daughter. The amount of complaints that 
 them college boys saved in the first fortnight 
 was worth their season s wages, pretty nigh. 
 Before June was over the Old Home was full 
 up and we had to annex a couple of next-door 
 houses for the left-overs. 
 
 I was skipper for one of them houses, and Jonadab 
 run the other. Each of us had a cook and a 
 waiter, a housekeeper and an up-stairs girl. My 
 housekeeper was the boss prize in the package. 
 Her name was Mabel Seabury, and she was 
 young and quiet and as pretty as the first bunch 
 of Mayflowers in the spring. And a lady 
 whew! The first time I set opposite to her at 
 table I made up my mind I wouldn t drink out 
 of my sasser if I scalded the lining off my throat. 
 
 She was city born and brought up, but she
 
 JONEST 265 
 
 wa n t one of your common "He! he! ain t you 
 tumble!" lunch-counter princesses, with a head 
 like a dandelion gone to seed and a fish-net waist. 
 You bet she wa n t! Her dad had had money 
 once, afore he tried to beat out Jonah and swal 
 low the stock exchange whale. After that he 
 was skipper of a little society library up to Cam 
 bridge, and she kept house for him. Then he died 
 and left her his blessing, and some of Peter Brown s 
 wife s folks, that knew her when she was well 
 off, got her the job of housekeeper here with us. 
 The only trouble she made was first along, 
 and that wa n t her fault. I thought at one time 
 we d have to put up a wire fence to keep them 
 college waiters away from her. They hung 
 around her like a passel of gulls around a her 
 ring boat. She was nice to em, too, but when 
 you re just so nice to everybody and not nice 
 enough to any special one, the prospect ain t 
 encouraging. So they give it up, but there wa n t 
 a male on the place, from old Dr. Blatt, mixer 
 of Blatt s Burdock Bitters and Blatt s Balm for 
 Beauty, down to the boy that emptied the ashes, 
 who wouldn t have humped himself on all fours 
 and crawled eight miles if she d asked him to. 
 
 o 
 
 And that includes me and Cap n Jonadab, and 
 we re about as tough a couple of women-proof 
 old hulks as you ll find afloat.
 
 Jonadab took a special interest in her. It pretty 
 nigh broke his heart to think she was running 
 my house instead of his. He thought she d ought 
 to be married and have a home of her own. 
 
 "Well/* says I, "why don t she get married 
 then ? She could drag out and tie up any single 
 critter of the right sex in this neighborhood with 
 both hands behind her back." 
 
 "Humph!" says he. "I s pose you d have 
 her marry one of these soup-toting college chaps, 
 wouldn t you ? Then they could live on Greek 
 for breakfast and Latin for dinner and warm 
 over the leavings for supper. No, sir! a girl 
 hasn t no right to get married unless she gets a 
 man with money. There s a deck-load of mill 
 ionaires comes here every summer, and I m goin* 
 to help her land one of em. It s my duty as a 
 Christian," says he. 
 
 One evening, along the second week in July 
 twas, I got up from the supper-table and walked 
 over toward the hotel, smoking, and thinking 
 what I d missed in not having a girl like that set 
 opposite me all these years. And, in the shaddei 
 of the big bunch of lilacs by the gate, I see a feller 
 standing, a feller with a leather bag in his hand, 
 a stranger 
 
 "Good evening," says I. "Looking for the 
 hotel, was you ? "
 
 JONESr 267 
 
 He swung round, kind of lazy-like, and looked 
 at me. Then I noticed how big he was. Seemed 
 to me he was all of seven foot high and broad 
 according. And rigged up my soul! He had 
 on a wide, felt hat, with a whirligig top onto it, 
 and a light checked suit, and gloves, and slung 
 more style than a barber on Sunday. If I d 
 wore them kind of duds they d have had me down 
 to Danvers, clanking chains and picking straws, 
 but on this young chap they looked fine. 
 
 "Good evening," says the seven-footer, look 
 ing down and speaking to me cheerful. "Is this 
 the Old Ladies Home the Old Home House, 
 I should say ? " 
 
 "Yes, sir," says I, looking up reverent at that 
 hat. 
 
 "Right," he says. "Will you be good enough 
 to tell me where I can find the proprietor ? " 
 
 "Well," says I, "I m him; that is, I m one 
 of him. But I m afraid we can t accommodate 
 you , mister, not now. We ain t got a room no- 
 wheres that ain t full." 
 
 He knocked the ashes off his cigarette. "I m 
 not looking for a room," says he, "except as a 
 side issue. I m looking for a job." 
 
 "A job!" I sings out. "A job?" 
 
 "Yes. I understand you employ college men 
 as waiters. I m from Harvard, and "
 
 268 THE "OLD HOME HOUSE" 
 
 "A waiter ? " I says, so astonished that I could 
 hardly swaller. " Be you a waiter ? " 
 
 "/ don t know. I ve been told so. Our 
 coach used to say I was the best waiter on the 
 team. At any rate I ll try the experiment." 
 
 Soon s ever I could gather myself together I 
 reached across and took hold of his arm. 
 
 "Son," says I, "you come with me and turn in. 
 You ll feel better in the morning. I don t know 
 where I ll put you, unless it s the bowling alley, 
 but I guess that s your size. You oughtn t to 
 get this way at your age." 
 
 He laughed a big, hearty laugh, same as I 
 like to hear. "It s straight," he says. "I 
 mean it. I want a job." 
 
 " But what for ? You ain t short of cash ? " 
 
 "You bet!" he says. "Strapped." 
 
 "Then," says I, "you come with me to-night 
 and to-morrer morning you go somewheres and 
 sell them clothes you ve got on. You ll make 
 more out of that than you will passing pie, if 
 you passed it for a year." 
 
 He laughed again, but he said he was bound to 
 be a waiter and if I couldn t help him he d have to 
 hunt up the other portion of the proprietor. So I 
 told him to stay where he was, and I went off 
 and found Peter T. You d ought to seen Peter 
 stare when we hove in sight of the candidate.
 
 JONEST 269 
 
 "Thunder!" says he. "Is this Exhibit One, 
 Barzilla ? Where d you pick up the Chinese 
 giant ? 
 
 I done the polite, mentioning Brown s name 
 hesitating on t other chap s. 
 
 "Er- Jones," says the human lighthouse. "Er- 
 )<es; Jones." 
 
 "Glad to meet you, Mr. Jones," says Peter. 
 " So you want to be a waiter, do you ? For how 
 much per ? 
 
 "Oh, I don t know. I ll begin at the bottom, 
 being a green hand. Twenty a week or so; what 
 ever you re accustomed to paying." 
 
 Brown choked. "The figure s all right," he 
 says, " only it covers a month down here." 
 
 "Right!" says Jones, not a bit shook up. "A 
 month goes." 
 
 Peter stepped back and looked him over, 
 beginning with the tan shoes and ending with 
 the whirligig hat. 
 
 "Jonesy," says he, finally, "you re on. Take 
 him to the servants quarters, Wingate." 
 
 A little later, when I had the chance and had 
 Brown alone, I says to him: 
 
 "Peter," says I, "for the land sakes what did 
 you hire the emperor for ? A blind man could see 
 he wa n t no waiter. And we don t need him any 
 how; no more n a cat needs three tails. Why "
 
 270 THE "OLD HOME HOUSE" 
 
 But he was back at me before I could wink. 
 "Need him?" he says. "Why, Barzilla, we 
 need him more than the old Harry needs a con 
 science. Take a bird s-eye view of him! Size 
 him up ! He puts all the rest of the Greek statues 
 ten miles in the shade. If I could only manage 
 to get his picture in the papers we d have all 
 the romantic old maids in Boston down here 
 inside of a week; and there s enough of them 
 to keep one hotel going till judgment. Need 
 him? Whew!" 
 
 Next morning we was at the breakfast-table 
 in my branch establishment, me and Mabel and 
 the five boarders. All hands was doing their 
 best to start a famine in the fruit market, and 
 Dr. Blatt was waving a banana and cheering us 
 with a yarn about an old lady that his Burdock 
 Bitters had h isted bodily out of the tomb. He 
 was at the most exciting part, the bitters and 
 the undertaker coming down the last lap neck 
 and neck, and an even bet who d win the patient, 
 when the kitchen door opens and in marches 
 the waiter with the tray full of dishes of "cereal." 
 Seems to me twas chopped hay we had that 
 morning either that or shavings; I always get 
 them breakfast foods mixed up. 
 
 But twa n t the hay that made everybody set 
 up and take notice. Twas the waiter himself^
 
 JONESr 271 
 
 Our regular steward was a spindling little critter 
 with curls and eye-glasses who answered to the 
 hail of "Percy." This fellow clogged up the 
 scenery like a pet elephant, and was down in the 
 shipping list as "Jones." 
 
 The doc left his invalid hanging on the edge 
 of the grave, and stopped and stared. Old Mrs. 
 Bounderby h isted the gold-mounted double spy 
 glass she had slung round her neck and took an 
 observation. Her daughter "Maizie" fetched 
 a long breath and shut her eyes, like she d seen 
 her finish and was resigned to it. 
 
 "Well, Mr. Jones," says I, soon s I could get 
 my breath, "this is kind of unexpected, ain t it? 
 Thought you was booked for the main deck." 
 
 "Yes, sir," he says, polite as a sewing-machine 
 agent, "I was, but Percy and I have exchanged. 
 Cereal this morning, madam ? " 
 
 Mrs. Bounderby took her measure of shav 
 ings and Jones s measure at the same time. 
 She had him labeled "Danger" right off; you 
 could tell that by the way she spread her wings 
 over "Maizie." But I wa n t watching her just 
 then. I was looking at Mabel Seabury looking 
 and wondering. 
 
 The housekeeper was white as the tablecloth. 
 She stared at the Jones man as if she couldn t 
 believe her eyes, and her breath come short and
 
 272 THE "OLD HOME HOUSE" 
 
 quick. I thought sure she was going to cry. 
 And what she ate of that meal wouldn t have 
 made a lunch for a hearty humming-bird. 
 
 When twas finished I went out on the porch 
 to think things over. The dining room winder 
 was open and Jonesy was clearing the table. 
 All of a sudden I heard him say, low and earnest: 
 
 "Well, aren t you going to speak to me ? 
 
 The answer was in a girl s voice, and I knew 
 the voice. It said: 
 
 "Youljyow/ How couldyou ? Why did you come ?" 
 
 "You didn t think I could stay away, did you ?" 
 
 "But how did you know I was here? I tried 
 jo hard to keep it a secret." 
 
 "It took me a month, but I worked it out 
 finally. Aren t you glad to see me ? " 
 
 She burst out crying then, quiet, but as if 
 her heart was hroke. 
 
 "Oh!" she sobs. "How could you be so 
 cruel! And they ve been so kind to me here." 
 
 I went away then, thinking harder than ever. 
 At dinner Jonesy done the waiting, but Mabel 
 wa n t on deck. She had a headache, the cook 
 said, and was lying down. Twas the same way 
 at supper, and after supper Peter Brown comes 
 to me, all broke up, and says he: 
 
 "There s merry clink to pay," he says. "Ma 
 bel s going to leave."
 
 JONESr 273 
 
 "No?" says I. "She ain t neither!" 
 "Yes, she is. She says she s going to-morrer. 
 She won t tell me why, and I ve argued with her 
 for two hours. She s going to quit, and I d rather 
 enough sight quit myself. What ll we do ?" says he. 
 I couldn t help him none, and he went away, 
 moping and miserable. All round the place 
 everybody was talking about the "lovely" new 
 waiter, and to hear the girls go on you d think 
 the Prince of Wales had landed. Jonadab was 
 the only kicker, and he said twas bad enough 
 afore, but now that new dude had shipped, 
 twa n t the place for a decent, self-respecting 
 man. 
 
 "How you goin to order that Grand Panjan 
 drum around ? " he says. "Great land of Goshen! 
 I d as soon think of telling the Pope of Rome to 
 empty a pail of swill as I would him. Why 
 don t he stay to home and be a tailor s sign or 
 something ? Not prance around here with his 
 high-toned airs. I m glad you ve got him, Bar- 
 zilla, and not me." 
 
 Well, most of that was plain jealousy, so I 
 didn t contradict. Besides I was too busy think 
 ing. By eight o clock I d made up my mind 
 and I went hunting for Jones. 
 
 I found him, after a while, standing by the 
 back door and staring up at the chamber win-
 
 274 THE "OLD HOME HOUSE" 
 
 ders as if he missed something. I asked him to 
 come along with me. Told him I had a big 
 cargo of talk aboard, and wouldn t be able to 
 cruise on an even keel till I d unloaded some of 
 it. So he fell into my wake, looking puzzled, 
 and in a jiffy we was planted in the rocking chairs 
 up in my bedroom. 
 
 "Look here," says I, "Mr. Mr. " 
 
 "Jones," says he. 
 
 "Oh, yes Jones. It s a nice name." 
 
 "I remember it beautifully," says he, smiling. 
 
 "All right, Mr. Jones. Now, to begin with, 
 we ll agree that it ain t none of my darn busi 
 ness, and I m an old gray-headed nosey, and the 
 like of that. But, being that I am old old enough 
 to be your dad, though that s my only recommend 
 for the job I m going to preach a little sermon. 
 My text is found in the Old Home Hotel, Well- 
 mouth, first house on the left. It s Miss Sea- 
 bury," says I. 
 
 He was surprised, I guess, but he never turned 
 a hair. "Indeed? 1 he says. "She is the 
 the housekeeper, isn t she ? 
 
 "She was," says I, "but she leaves to-morrer 
 morning." 
 
 That hit him between wind and water. 
 
 "No? " he sings out, setting up straight 
 staring at me. "Not really ? "
 
 JONEST 275 
 
 "You bet," I says. "Now down in this part 
 of the chart we ve come to think more of that 
 young lady than a cat does of the only kitten 
 leit out of the bag in the water bucket. Let me 
 tell you about her." 
 
 So I went ahead, telling him how Mabel had 
 come to us, why she come, how well she was 
 liked, how much she liked us, and a whole lot 
 more. I guess he knew the most of it, but he 
 was too polite not to act interested. 
 
 "And now, all at once," says I, "she gives 
 up being happy and well and contented, and 
 won t eat, and cries, and says she s going to 
 leave. There s a reason, as the advertisement 
 folks say, and I m going to make a guess at it. 
 I believe it calls itself Jones." 
 
 His under jaw pushed out a little and his eye 
 brows drew together. But all he said was, 
 "Well ? " 
 
 "Yes," I says. "And now, Mr. Jones, I m 
 old, as I said afore, and nosey maybe, but I like 
 that girl. Perhaps I might come to like you, too; 
 you can t tell. Under them circumstances, and 
 with the understanding that it didn t go no farther, 
 maybe you might give me a glimpse of the lay of the 
 land. Possibly I mightThave something to say that 
 would help. I m fairly white underneath, if I 
 oc sunburned. What do you think about it f
 
 276 THE "OLD HOME HOUSE" 
 
 He didn t answer right off; seemed to be 
 chewing it over. After a spell he spoke. 
 
 "Mr. Wingate," says he, "with the under 
 standing that you mentioned, I don t mind 
 supposing a case. Suppose you was a chap in 
 college. Suppose you met a girl in the vicin 
 ity that was well, was about the best ever. 
 Suppose you came to find that life wasn t 
 worth a continental without that girl. Then 
 suppose you had a dad with money, lots of money. 
 Suppose the old fo the gov nor, I mean with 
 out even seeing her or even knowing her name 
 or a thing about her, said no. Suppose you and 
 the old gentleman had a devil of a row, and broke 
 off for keeps. Then suppose the girl wouldn t 
 listen to you under the circumstances. Talked 
 rot about wasted future and throwing your 
 life away and so on. Suppose, when you showed 
 her that you didn t care a red for futures, she ran 
 away from you and wouldn t tell where she d 
 gone. Suppose well, I guess that s enough sup 
 posing. I don t know why I m telling you these 
 things, anyway." 
 
 He stopped and scowled at the floor, acting 
 like he was sorry he spoke. I pulled at my 
 pipe a minute or so and then says I: 
 
 " Hum ! " I says, " I presume likely it s fair to sup 
 pose that this break with the old gent is for good ? *
 
 JONESr 277 
 
 He didn t answer, but he didn t need to; the 
 look on his face was enough. 
 
 "Yes," says I. "Well, it s likewise to be 
 supposed that the idea the eventual idea is 
 marriage, straight marriage, hey ? " 
 
 He jumped out of his chair. "Why, damn 
 you!" he says. "I ll " 
 
 "All right. Set down and be nice. I was 
 fairly sure of my soundings, but it don t do no 
 harm to heave the lead. I ask your pardon- 
 Well, what you going to support a wife on 
 her kind of a wife ? A summer waiter s job 
 at twenty a month ? " 
 
 He set down, but he looked more troubled 1 
 than ever. I was sorry for him; I couldn t 
 help liking the boy. 
 
 "Suppose she keeps her word and goes away/* 
 says I. "What then?" 
 
 "I ll go after her." 
 
 "Suppose she still sticks to her principles and 
 won t have you ? Where ll you go, then ? " 
 
 "To the hereafter," says he, naming the sta 
 tion at the end of the route. 
 
 "Oh, well, there s no hurry about that. Most 
 of us are sure of a free one-way pass to that port 
 some time or other, cording to the parson s tell. 
 See here, Jones; let s look at this thing like a 
 couple of men, not children. You don t want
 
 278 THE " OLD HOME HOUSE" 
 
 to keep chasing that girl from pillar to post, 
 making her more miserable than she is now. 
 And you ain t in no position to marry her. The 
 way to show a young woman like her that you 
 mean business and are going to be wuth cooking 
 meals for is to get the best place you can and 
 start in to earn a living and save money. Now, 
 Mr. Brown s father-in-law is a man by the name 
 of Dillaway, Dillaway of the Consolidated Cash 
 Stores. He ll do things for me if I ask him to, 
 and I happen to know that he s just started a 
 branch up to Providence and is there now. Sup 
 pose I give you a note to him, asking him, as a 
 favor to me, to give you the best job he can. 
 He ll do it, I know. After that it s up to you. 
 This is, of course, providing that you start for 
 Providence to-morrer morning. What d you 
 say ? " 
 
 He was thinking hard. "Suppose I don t 
 make good ? " he says. " I never worked in 
 my life. And suppose she " 
 
 "Oh, suppose your granny s pet hon hatched 
 turkeys," I says, getting impatient, "I ll risk 
 your making good. I wa n t a first mate, ship 
 ping fo mast hands ten years, for nothing. ! 
 can generally tell beet greens from cabbage with 
 out waiting to smell em cooking. And as for 
 her, it seems to me that a girl who thinks enough
 
 JONEST 27$ 
 
 of a feller to run away from him so s he won t 
 spile his future, won t like him no less for being 
 willing to work and wait for her. You stay 
 here and think it over. I m going out for a spell." 
 
 When I come back Jonesy was ready for me. 
 
 "Mr. Wingate," says he, "it s a deal. Pm 
 going to go you, though I think you re plunging 
 on a hundred-to-one shot. Some day I ll tell 
 you more about myself, maybe. But now I m 
 going to take your advice and the position. I ll 
 do my best, and I must say you re a brick. Thanks 
 awfully." 
 
 "Good enough!" I says. "Now you go and 
 tell her, and I ll write the letter to Dillaway." 
 
 So the next forenoon Peter T. Brown was 
 joyful all up one side because Mabel had said 
 she d stay, and mournful all down the other 
 because his pet college giant had quit almost 
 afore he started. I kept my mouth shut, that 
 being the best play I know of, nine cases out often. 
 
 I went up to the depot with Jonesy to see 
 him off. 
 
 "Good-by, old man," he says, shaking hands. 
 "You ll write me once in a while, telling me 
 how she is, and and so on ? " 
 
 "Bet you!" says I. "I ll keep you posted 
 up. And let s hear how you tackle the Cott 
 solidated Cash business."
 
 280 THE "OLD HOME HOUSE" 
 
 July and the first two weeks in August moped 
 along and everything at the Old Home House 
 kept about the same. Mabel was in mighty 
 good spirits, for her, and she got prettier every 
 day. I had a couple of letters from Jones, say 
 ing that he guessed he could get bookkeeping 
 through his skull in time without a surgical opera 
 tion, and old Dillaway was down over one Sun 
 day and was preaching large concerning the 
 "find" my candidate was for the Providence 
 branch. So I guessed I hadn t made no mistake. 
 
 I had considerable fun with Cap n Jonadab 
 over his not landing a rich husband for the Sea- 
 bury girl. Looked like the millionaire crop was 
 going to be a failure that summer. 
 
 "Aw, belay!" says he, short as baker s pie 
 crust. "The season ain t over yet. You bet 
 ter take a bath in the salt mack rel kag; you re 
 too fresh to keep this hot weather." 
 
 Talking "husband" to him was like rubbing 
 pain-killer on a scalded pup, so I had some 
 thing to keep me interested dull days. But one 
 morning he comes to me, excited as a mouse 
 at a cat show, and says he: 
 
 "Ah, ha! what did I tell you ? I ve got one!" 
 
 "I see you have," says I. "Want me to send 
 for the doctor ? " 
 
 "Stop your foolishing," he says. "I mean
 
 JONEST 281 
 
 I ve got a millionaire. He s coming to-night, 
 too. One of the biggest big-bugs there is in 
 New York. Ah, ha ! what did I tell you ? " 
 
 He was fairly boiling over with gloat, but from 
 between the bubbles I managed to find out that 
 the new boarder was a big banker from New 
 York, name of Van Wedderburn, with a barrel 
 of cash and a hogshead of dyspepsy. He was a 
 Wall Street "bear," and a steady diet of lamb 
 with mint sass had fetched him to where the 
 doctors said twas lay off for two months or be 
 laid out for keeps. 
 
 "And I ve fixed it that he s to stop at your 
 house, Barzilla," crows Jonadab. "And when 
 he sees Mabel well, you know what she s done 
 to the other men folks," he says. 
 
 "Humph!" says I, "maybe he s got dyspepsy 
 of the heart along with the other kind. She 
 might disagree with him. What makes you so 
 cock sartin ? " 
 
 " Cause he s a widower," he says. "Them s 
 the softest kind." 
 
 "Well, you ought to know," I told him. 
 "You re one yourself. But, from what I ve 
 heard, soft things are scarce in Wall Street. 
 Bet you seventy-five cents to a quarter it don t 
 work." 
 
 He wouldn t take me, having scruples against
 
 282 THE "OLD HOME HOUSE" 
 
 betting except when he had the answer in his 
 pocket. But he went away cackling joyful, and 
 that night Van Wedderburn arrived. 
 
 Van was a substantial-looking old relic, built 
 on the lines of the Boston State House, broad 
 in the beam and with a shiny dome on top. But 
 he could qualify for the nervous dyspepsy class 
 all right, judging by his langunge to the depot- 
 wagon driver. When he got through making 
 remarks because one of his trunks had been for 
 got, that driver s quotation, according to Peter 
 T., had "dropped to thirty cents, with a second 
 assessment called. * I jedged the meals at our 
 table would be as agreeable as a dog-fight. 
 
 However, twas up to me, and I towed him 
 in and made him acquainted with Mabel. She 
 wa n t enthusiastic having heard some of the 
 driver sermon, I cal late until I mentioned his 
 name. Then she gave a little gasp like. When 
 Van had gone up to his rooms, puffing like a 
 donkey-engyne and growling cause there wa n t 
 no elevators, she took me by the arm and says she : 
 
 " What did you say his name was, Mr. Win- 
 gate ? " 
 
 "Van Wedderburn," says I. "The New York 
 millionaire one." 
 
 "Not of Van Wedderburn & Hamilton, the 
 bankers ? " she asks, eager.
 
 JONESr 283, 
 
 "That s him," says I. "Why? Do you know 
 him ? Did his ma used to do washing at your 
 house ? " 
 
 She laughed, but her face was all lit up and 
 her eyes fairly shone. I could have but there! 
 never mind. 
 
 "Oh, no," she says, "I don t know him, but 
 I know of him everybody does." 
 
 Well, everybody did, that s a fact, and the 
 way Marm Bounderby and Maizie was togged 
 out at the supper-table was a sin and a shame. 
 And the way they poured gush over that bald- 
 headed broker was enough to make him slip out 
 of his chair. Talk about "fishers of men"! 
 them Bounderbys was a whole seiner s crew in 
 themselves. 
 
 But what surprised me was Mabel Seabury. 
 She was dressed up, too; not in the Bounder 
 bys style collar-bones and diamonds but in 
 plain white with lace fuzz. If she wa n t peaches 
 and cream, then all you need is lettuce to make 
 me a lobster salad. 
 
 And she was as nice to Van as if he was old 
 Deuteronomy out of the Bible. He set down 
 to that meal with a face on him like a pair of 
 nutcrackers, and afore twas over he was laugh 
 ing and eating apple pie and telling funny yarns 
 about robbing his "friends" in .the Street. I
 
 284 THE "OLD HOME HOUSE" 
 
 judged he d be sorry for it afore morning, but I 
 didn t care for that. I was kind of worried my 
 self; didn t understand it. 
 
 And I understood it less and less as the days 
 went by. If she d been Maizie Bounderby, with 
 two lines in each hand and one in her teeth, 
 she couldn t have done more to hook that old 
 stock-broker. She cooked little special dishes 
 for his dyspepsy to play with, and set with him 
 on the piazza evenings, and laughed at his jokes, 
 and the land knows what. Inside of a fortni t 
 he was a gone goose, which wa n t surprising-r- 
 every other man being in the same fix but twas 
 surprising to see her helping the goneness along. 
 All hands was watching the game, of course, and 
 it pretty nigh started a mutiny at the Old Home. 
 The Bounderbys packed up and lit out in ten 
 days, and none of the other women would speak 
 to Mabel. They didn t blame poor Mr. Van, 
 you understand. Twas all her "low, design 
 ing thing!" 
 
 And Jonadab! he wa n t fit to live with. The 
 third forenoon after Van Wedderburn got there 
 he come around and took the quarter bet. And 
 the way he crowed over me made my hands 
 itch for a rope s end. Finally I owned up to 
 myself that I d made a mistake; the girl was 
 a whitewashed tombstone and the whitewash
 
 JONES? 
 
 285 
 
 was rubbing thin. That night I dropped a line 
 to poor Jonesy at Providence, telling him that, 
 if he could get a day off, maybe he d better come 
 down to Wellmouth, and see to his fences; some 
 body was feeding cows in his pasture. 
 
 INSIDE OF A FORTNIGHT HE WAS A GONE GOOSE. 
 
 The next day was Labor Day, and what was 
 left of the boarders was going for a final picnic 
 over to Baker s Grove at Ostable. We went, 
 three catboats full of us, and Van and Mabel 
 Seabury was in the same boat. We made the
 
 286 THE "OLD HOME HOUSE" 
 
 grove all right, and me and Jonadab had our 
 hands full, baking clams and chasing spiders out 
 of the milk, and doing all the chores that makes a 
 picnic so joyfully miserable. When the dinner 
 dishes was washed I went off by myself to a quiet 
 bunch of bayberry bushes half a mile from the 
 grove and laid down to rest, being beat out. 
 
 I guess I fell asleep, and what woke me was 
 somebody speaking close by. I was going to 
 get up and clear out, not being in the habit of 
 listening to other folks affairs, but the very first 
 words I heard showed me that twas best, for the 
 feelings of all concerned, to lay still and keep on 
 with my nap. 
 
 "Oh, no!" says Mabel Seabury, dreadful ner 
 vous and hurried-like; "oh, no! Mr. Van Wed- 
 derburn, please don t say any more. I can t 
 listen to you, I m so sorry." 
 
 " Do you mean that really mean it ? " asks 
 Van, his voice rather shaky and seemingly a 
 good deal upset. "My dear young lady, I real 
 ize that I m twice your age and more, and I sup 
 pose that I was an old fool to hope; but I ve had 
 trouble lately, and I ve been very lonely, and you 
 have been so kind that I thought I did hope 
 I- Can t you ? " 
 
 "No," says she, more nervous than ever, and 
 haky, too, but decided. "No! Oh, no! It s
 
 JONESr 287 
 
 all my fault. I wanted you to like me; I wanted 
 you to like me very much. But not this way. 
 I m Pm so sorry. Please forgive me." 
 
 She walked on then, fast, and toward the grove, 
 and he followed, slashing at the weeds with his 
 cane, and acting a good deal as if he d like to 
 pick up his playthings and go home. When 
 they was out of sight I set up and winked, large 
 and comprehensive, at the scenery. It looked 
 to me like I was going to collect Jonadab s quarter. 
 
 That night as I passed the lilac bushes by 
 the gate, somebody steps out and grabs my 
 arm. I jumped, looked up, and there, glaring 
 down at me out of the clouds, was friend Jones 
 from Providence, R. I. 
 
 "Wingate," he whispers, fierce, "who is the 
 man ? And where is he ? " 
 
 "Easy," I begs. "Easy on that arm. I 
 might want to use it again. What man ? 
 
 "That man you wrote me about. Pve come 
 down here to interview him. Confound him! 
 Who is he ? " 
 
 "Oh, it s all right now," says I. "There 
 was an old rooster from New York who was 
 acting too skittish to suit me, but I guess it s 11 
 off. His being a millionaire and a stock-jobber 
 was what scart me fust along. He s a hundred 
 years old or so; name of Van Wedderburn."
 
 288 THE "OLD HOME HOUSE" 
 
 " What? he says, pinching my arm till I 
 could all but feel his thumb and finger meet. 
 "What? Stop joking. I m not funny to-night." 
 
 "It s no joke," says I, trying to put my arm 
 together again. "Van Wedderburn is his name. 
 Course you ve heard of him. Why! there he 
 is now." 
 
 Sure enough, there was Van, standing like a 
 statue of misery on the front porch of the main 
 hotel, the light from the winder shining full on 
 him. Jonesy stared and stared. 
 
 "Is that the man ? " he says, choking up. 
 "Was he sweet on Mabel ? " 
 
 "Sweeter n a molasses stopper," says I. "But 
 he s going away in a day or so. You don t need 
 to worry." 
 
 He commenced to laugh, and I thought he d 
 never stop. 
 
 "What s the joke?" I asks, after a year or 
 so of this foolishness. " Let me in, won t you ? 
 Thought you wa n t funny to-night." 
 
 He stopped long enough to ask one more ques 
 tion. "Tell me, for the Lord s sake!" says he. 
 " Did she know who he was ? 
 
 "Sartin," says I. "So did every other woman 
 round the place. You d think so if 
 
 He walked off then, laughing himself into 
 it fct. "Good night, old man," he says, between
 
 JONESr 289 
 
 spasms. "See you later. No, I don t think I 
 shall worry much." 
 
 If he hadn t been so big I cal lated I d have 
 risked a kick. A man hates to be made a fool 
 of and not know why. 
 
 A whole lot of the boarders had gone on the 
 evening train, and at our house Van Wedder- 
 burn was the only one left. He and Mabel and 
 me was the full crew at the breakfast-table the 
 follering morning. The fruit season was a quiet 
 one. I done all the talking there was; every 
 time the broker and the housekeeper looked at 
 each other they turned red. 
 
 Finally twas "chopped-hay" time, and in 
 comes the waiter with the tray. And again we 
 had a surprise, just like the one back in July. 
 Percy wa n t on hand, and Jonesy was. 
 
 But the other surprise wa n t nothing to this 
 one. The Seabury girl was mightily set back, 
 but old Van was paralyzed. His eyes and mouth 
 opened and kept on opening. 
 
 "Cereal, sir ? " asks Jones, polite as ever. 
 
 "Why! why, you you rascal!" hollers Van 
 Wedderburn. "What are you doing here? " 
 
 "I have a few days vacation from my posi 
 tion at Providence, sir," answers Jones. "I m 
 a waiter at present." 
 
 "Why, Robert!" exclaims Mabel Seabury.
 
 290 THE "OLD HOME HOUSE" 
 
 Van swung around like he was on a pivot 
 "Do you know him? " he pants, wild as a coot, 
 and pointing. 
 
 Twas the waiter himself that answered. 
 
 "She knows me, father," he says. "In fact 
 she is the young lady I told you about last spring; 
 the one I intend to marry." 
 
 Did you ever see the tide go out over the flats ? 
 Well, that s the way the red slid down off old 
 Van s bald head and across his cheeks. But it 
 came back again like an earthquake wave. He 
 turned to Mabel once more, and if ever there 
 was a pleading "Don t tell" in a man s eyes, 
 twas in his. 
 
 " Cereal, sir ? " asks Robert Van Wedderburn, 
 alias "Jonesy." 
 
 Well, I guess that s about all. Van Senior 
 took it enough sight more graceful than you d 
 expect, under the circumstances. He went straight 
 up to his room and never showed up till supper- 
 time. Then he marches to where Mabel and his 
 son was, on the porch, and says he: 
 
 " Bob," he says, " if you don t marry this young 
 lady within a month I ll disown you, for good 
 this time. You ve got more sense than I thought. 
 Blessed if I see who you inherit it from!" says 
 he, kind of to himself. 
 
 Jonadab ain t paid me the quarter yet. He
 
 JONEST 291 
 
 says the bet was that she d land a millionaire, 
 and a Van Wedderburn, afore the season ended, 
 and she did; so he figgers that he won the bet. 
 Him and me got wedding cards a week ago, so 
 I suppose "Jonesy" and Mabel are on their 
 honeymoon now. I wonder if she s ever told her 
 husband about what I heard in the bayberry 
 bushes. Being the gamest sport, for a woman, 
 that ever I see, I ll gamble she ain t said a word 
 about it. 
 
 (2)
 
 The greatest pleasure in life is 
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 Damsel in Distress, A. Pelham G. Wodehotise. 
 
 Dancing Star, The. Berta Ruck. 
 
 Danger and Other Stories. A. Conan Doyle. 
 
 Dark Hollow. Anna Katharine Green. 
 
 Daughter Pays, The. Mrs. Baillie Reynolds. 
 
 Depot Master, The. Joseph C. Lincoln. 
 
 Desert Healer, The. E. M. Hull. 
 
 Destroying Angel, The. Louis Joseph Vance. (Photoplay Ed. 
 
 Devil s Paw, The. E. Phillips Oppenheim. 
 
 Diamond Thieves, The. Arthur Stringer. 
 
 Disturbing Charm, The. Berta Ruck. 
 
 Dormegan. George Owen Baxter. 
 
 Door of Dread, The. Arthur Stringer. 
 
 Doors of the Night. Frank L. Packard. 
 
 Dope. Sax Rohmer. 
 
 Double Traitor, The. E. Phillips Oppenheim. 
 
 Dust of the Desert. Robert Welles Ritchie. 
 
 Empty Hands. Arthur Stringer. 
 
 Empty Pockets. Rupert Hughes. 
 
 Empty Sack, The. Basil King. 
 
 Enchanted Canyon. Honore Willsie. 
 
 Enemies of Women. V. B. Ibanez. (Photoplay Ed.%- 
 
 Eris. Robert W. Chambers. 
 
 Erskine Dale, Pioneer. John Fox 1 , Jr. 
 
 Evil Shepherd, The. E. Phillips Oppenheim. 
 
 Extricating Obadiah. Joseph C. Lincoln. 
 
 Eye of Zeitoon, The. Talbot Mundy. 
 
 Eyes of the Blind. Arthur Somers Roche. 
 
 Eyes of the World. Harold Bell Wright 
 
 Fair Harbor. Joseph C. Lincoln. 
 
 Family. Wayland Wells Williams. 
 
 Fathoms Deer>. Elizabeth Stancy Payne. 
 
 Feast of the Lanterns* Louise Gordon Mile. 
 
 Fighting Chance, Th* Robert W. Chambers
 
 flT A POPULAR PRICE 
 
 Fighting Shepherdess, The. Caroline Lockhart. 
 
 Financier, The. Theodore Dreiser- 
 
 Fire Tongue. Sax Rohmer. 
 
 Flaming Jewel, The. Robert W. Chambers, 
 
 Flowing Gold. Rex Beach. 
 
 Forbidden Trail, The. Honore Willsie. 
 
 Forfeit, The. Ridgwell Cullum. 
 
 Four Million, The. O. Henry. 
 
 Foursquare. Grace S. Richmond. 
 
 Four Stragglers, The. Frank L. Packard. 
 
 Free Range Lanning. George Owen Baxter, 
 
 From Now On. Frank L. Packard. 
 
 FW Bringers, The. Hulbert Footner. 
 
 Further Adventures of Jimmie Dale. Frank L. Packard, 
 
 Galusha the Magnificent. Joseph ; C. Lincoln. 
 
 Gaspards of Pine Croft, The. Ralph Connor. 
 
 Gay Year, The. Dorothy Speare. 
 
 Gift of the Desert. Randall Parrish. 
 
 Girl in the Mirror, The. Elizabeth Jordan. 
 
 Girl from Kellers, The. Harold Bindloss. 
 
 Girl Philippa, The. Robert W. Chambers. 
 
 Girls at His Billet, The. Berta Ruck. 
 
 Glory) Rides the Range. Ethel and James Borrance. 
 
 God s Country and the Woman. James Oliver Curwood. 
 
 God s Good Man. Marie Correlli. 
 
 Going Some. Rex Beach. 
 
 Gold Girl, The. James B. Hendryx. 
 
 Gold-Killer. John Prosper. 
 
 Golden Scorpion, The. Sax Rohmer. 
 
 Golden Slipper, The. Anna Katharine Greefi, 
 
 Golden Woman, The. Ridgwell Cullum. 
 
 Gray Phantom, The. Herman Landon. 
 
 Gray Phantom s Return, The. Herman Landon. 
 
 Great Impersonation, The. E. Phillips Oppenheini, 
 
 Great Prince Shan, The. E. Phillips Oppenheim. 
 
 Greater Love Hath No Man. Frank L. Packard. 
 
 Green Eyes of Bast, The. Sax Rohmer. 
 
 Green Goddess, The. Louise Jordan Miln. (Photoplay Ed.). 
 
 Greyfriars Bobby. Eleanor Atkinson. 
 
 Gun Brand, The. James B. Hendryx. 
 
 Gun Runner, The. Arthur Stringer. 
 
 Guns of the Gods. Talbot Mundy. 
 
 Hand of Fu-Manchu, The. Sax Rohmef. 
 
 Hand of Peril, The. Arthur Stringer.
 
 THE BEST OF RECENT FICTION 1 
 
 Harbor Road, The. Sara Ware Bassett 
 
 Harriet and the Piper. Kathleen Norris. 
 
 Havoc. E. Phillips Oppenheim. 
 
 Head of the House of Coombe, The. France* Hodgsoi; 
 
 Burnett. 
 
 Heart of the Desert, The. Honor Willsie. 
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 Helen of the Old House. Harold Bell Wright. 
 Hidden Places, The. Bertrand W. Sinclair. 
 Hidden Trails. William Patterson White. 
 Hillman, The. E. Phillips Oppenheim. 
 Hira Singh. Talbot Mundy. 
 Hi Last Bow. A. Conan Doyle. 
 His Official Fiancee. Berta Ruck. 
 Homeland. "Margaret Hill McCarter. 
 Homestead Ranch. Elizabeth G. Young. 
 Honor of the Big Snows. James Oliver Curwood. 
 Hopalong Cassidy. Clarence E. Mulford. 
 Hound from the North, The. Ridgwell Cullum. 
 House of the Whispering Pines, The. Anna Katharine Greeu 
 Humoresque. (Fannie Hurst. 
 Illustrious Prince, The. E. Phillips Oppenheim. 
 In Another Girl s Shoes. Berta Ruck. 
 Indifference of Juliet, The. Grace S. Richmond. 
 Infelice. Augusta Evans Wilson. 
 Initials Only. Anna Katharine Green. 
 Innocent. Marie Corelli. 
 
 Innocent Adventuress, The. Mary Hastings Bradley. 
 Insidious Dr. Fu-Manchu, The. Sax Rohmer. 
 In the Brooding Wild. Ridgwell Cullum. 
 In the Onyx Lobby. Carolyn Wells. 
 Iron Trail, The. Rex Beach. 
 Iron Woman, The. Margaret Beland. 
 IshmaeL (111.) Mrs. Southworth. 
 Isle of Retribution. Edison Marshall. 
 I ve Married Marjorie. Margaret Widdemer. 
 Ivory Trail, The. Talbot Mundy. 
 Jacob s Ladder. E. Phillips Oppenheim. 
 Jean of the Lazy A. B. M. Bower. 
 Jeanne of the Marshes. E. Phillips Oppenhei*!, 
 Jeeves. P. G. Wodehouse.
 
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 Jimmie Dale and the Phantom Clew. Frank L. Packard. 
 
 ohnny Nelson. Clarence E. Mulford. 
 
 oseph Greer and His Daughter. Henry Kitchell Webster. 
 
 udith of the Godless Valley. Honore Willsie. 
 Keeper of the Door, The. Ethel M. DelL 
 Keith of the Border. Randall Parrish. 
 Kent Knowles: Quahaug. Joseph C. Lincoln. 
 Kilmeny of the Orchard. L. M. Montgomery. 
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 King of Kearsarge. Arthur O. Friel. 
 King of the Khyber Rifle*. Talbot Mundy. 
 King Spruce. Holman Day. 
 Knave of Diamonds, The. Ethel M. Belt 
 Land-Girl s Love Story, A. Berta Ruck. 
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 Laramie Holds the Range. Frank H. Spearman. 
 Last Trail, The. Zane Grey. 
 Laughing Bill Hyde. Rex Beach. 
 Laughing Girl, The. Robert W. Chambers. 
 Law Breakers,, The. Ridgwell Cullum. 
 Law of the Gun, The. Ridgwell Cullum. 
 Leavenworth Case, The. Anna Katherine Green. (Photoplay 
 
 Edition). 
 
 Light That Failed, The. Rudyard Kipling. (Photoplay Ed.)- 
 Lighted Way, The. E. Phillips Oppenheim. 
 Lin McLean. Owen Wister. 
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 Kelland. 
 
 Little Red Foot, The. Robert W. Chambers. 
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 Lonesome Land. B. M. Bower. 
 Lone Wolf, The. Louis Joseph Vance. 
 Long Live the King. Mary Roberts Rinehart. (Photoplay 
 
 Edition). 
 
 Lost Ambassador. E. Phillips Oppenheim. 
 Lost Discovery, The. Baillie Reynolds. 
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 Lost World, The. A. Conan Doyle. 
 Luck of the Kid, The. Ridgwell Cullum. 
 Lucretia Lombard, Kathleen Norris. 
 Luminous Face, The. Carolyn Wells. 
 Lydia of the Pines. Honore Willsie.
 
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 Lynch Lawyers. William Patterson White. 
 
 McCarty Incog. Isabel Ostrandcr. 
 
 Major, The. Ralph Connor. 
 
 Maker of History, A. E. Phillips Oppenheim. 
 
 Malefactor, The. E. Phillips Oppenheim. 
 
 Man and Maid. Elinor Glyn. 
 
 Man from Bar 20, The. Clarence E. .Mulford. 
 
 Man from the Bitter Roots, The. Caroline Lockhart. 
 
 Man in the Moonlight, The. Rupert S. Holland. 
 
 Man in the Twilight, The. Ridgwell Cullum, 
 
 Man Killers, The. Dane Coolidge. 
 
 Man Who Couldn t Sleep, The. Arthur Stringer. 
 
 Man s Country. Peter Clark Macfarlane. 
 
 Marqueray s Duel. Anthony Pryde. 
 
 Martin Conisby s Vengeance. Jeffery Farno!, 
 
 Mary-Gusta. Joseph C. Lincoln. 
 
 Mary Wollaston. Henry Kitchell Webster. 
 
 Mason of Bar X Ranch. H. Bennett. 
 
 Master of Man. Hall Caine. 
 
 Master Mummer, The. E. Phillips Oppenheim. 
 
 Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes. A Conan Doyle. 
 
 Men Who Wrought, The. Ridgwell Cullum. 
 
 Meredith Mystery, The. Natalie Sumner Lincoln. 
 
 Midnight of the Ranges. George Gilbert. 
 
 Mine with the Iron Door, The. Harold Bell Wright. 
 
 Mischief Maker, The. E. Phillips Oppenheim. 
 
 Missioner, The. E. Phillips Oppenheim. 
 
 Miss Million s Maid. Berta Ruck. 
 
 Money, Love and Kate. Eleanor H. Porter. 
 
 Money Master, The. Gilbert Parker. 
 
 Money Moon, The. Jeffery Farnol. 
 
 Moonlit Way, The. Robert W. Chambers. 
 
 More Limehouse Nights. Thomas Burke. 
 
 More Tish. Mary Roberts Rinehart. 
 
 Moreton Mystery, The. Elizabeth Dejeans. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Sen. Louise Jordan Miln. 
 
 Mr. Grex of Monte Carlo. E. Phillips Oppenheioi, 
 
 Mr. Pratt. Joseph C. Lincoln. 
 
 Mr. Pratt s Patients. Joseph C. Lincoln. 
 
 Mrs. Red Pepper. Grace S. Richmond. 
 
 Mr. Wu. Louise Jordan Miln. 
 
 My Lady of the North. Randall Parrish. 
 
 My Lady of the South. Randall Parish. 
 
 Mystery Girl, The. Carolyn Wells.
 
 AT A POPUL AR PRIC$ 
 
 Mystery of the Hasty Arrow, The. Anna K. Green. 
 
 Mystery of the Silver Dagger, The. Randall Parrish. 
 
 Nameless River. Vingie E. Roe. 
 
 Ne er-Do-Well, The. Rex Beach. (Photoplay Ed.). 
 
 Net, The. Rex Beach. 
 
 Never Fail Blake. Arthur Stringer, 
 
 Next Corner, The. Kate Jordan. 
 
 Nightfall. Anthony Pryde. 
 
 Night Horseman, The. Max Brand, 
 
 Night of the Wedding, The. C. N. and A. M. Williamson* 
 
 Night Operator, The. Frank L. Packard. 
 
 Night Riders, The. Ridgwell Cullum. 
 
 Nine Unknown, The. Talbot Mundy. 
 
 Nobody s Man. E. Phillips Oppenheim. 
 
 No Defence. Gilbert Parker. 
 
 North. James B. Hendryx. 
 
 Obstacle Race, The. Ethel M. ell. 
 
 Odds. Ethel M. Dell. 
 
 Old Misery. Hugh Pendexter. 
 
 Omoo. Herman Melville. 
 
 One Thing Is Certain. Sophie Kerf. . 
 
 One-Way Trail, The. Ridgwell Culltmi, 
 
 Ordeal of Honor, An. Anthony Pryde. 
 
 Outlaw, The. Jackson Gregory. 
 
 Owner of the Lazy D. William Patterson White. 
 
 Panelled Room, The. Rupert Sargent Holland. 
 
 Paradise Bend. William Patterson White. 
 
 Pardners, Rex Beach. 
 
 Partners of the Tide. Joseph C. Lincoln. 
 
 Patricia Brent, Spinster. Anonymous. 
 
 Patrol of the Sun Dance Trail, The. Ralph Conn*r. 
 
 Paul Anthony, Christian. Hiram W. Hayes. 
 
 Pawned, Frank L. Packard. 
 
 "Pawns Count, The. E. Phillips Oppenheim. 
 
 Pay GraveL Hugh Pendexter. 
 
 Peacemakers, The. Hiram W. Hayes. 
 
 Peregrine s Progress. Jeffery Farnoll. 
 
 Peter Ruff and the Double Four. E. Phillips Oppenheim. 
 
 Phantom Wires. Arthur Stringer. 
 
 Pointed Tower, The. Vance Thompson. 
 
 Pollyanna; "The Glad Book." Eleanor H. Porter. (Lim. Ed.). 
 
 Trade Mark Trade-Mark. 
 Poor Man s Rock. Bertrand W. Sinclair. 
 
 Wise Man, A. Mary Roberts Rinehart
 
 THE BEST OF RECENT FICTION 
 
 Poisoned Paradise, The. Robert W. Service, (Photoplay Ed.). 
 
 Portygee, The. Joseph C. Lincoln. 
 
 Possession. Olive Wadsley. 
 
 Postmaster, The. Joseph C. Lincoln. 
 
 Prairie Child, The. Arthur Stringer. 
 
 Prairie Flowers. James B. Hendryx. 
 
 Prairie Mother, The. Arthur Stringer. 
 
 Prairie Wife, The. Arthur Stringer. 
 
 Pretender, The. Robert W. Service. 
 
 Prince of Sinners, A. E. Phillips Oppenheim. 
 
 Prodigal Daughters, The. Joseph Hocking. (Photoplay Ed.). 
 
 Prodigal Son, Hall Caine. (Photoplay Ed.). 
 
 Profiteers, The. E. Phillips Oppenheim. 
 
 Promise, The. J. B. Hendryx. 
 
 Public Square, The. Will Levington Comfort 
 
 Purple Mask, The. Louise Jordan Miln. 
 
 Purple Pearl, The. Anthony Pryde. 
 
 Quemado. William West Winter. 
 
 Quest of the Sacred Slipper, The. Sax Rohmer. 
 
 Quill s Window. George Barr McCutcheon. 
 
 Rainbow s End, The. Rex Beach. 
 
 Rainbow Valley. L. M. Montgomery. 
 
 Ramshackle House. Hulbert Footner. 
 
 Ranch at the Wolverine, The. B. M. Bower. 
 
 Ranching for Sylvia. Harold Bindloss. 
 
 Rangy Pete. Guy Morton. 
 
 Raspberry Jam. Carolyn Wells. 
 
 Reclaimers, The. Margaret Hill McCarter. 
 
 Re-Creation of Brian Kent, The. Harold Bell Wright, 
 
 Red and Black. Grace S. Richmond. 
 
 Red Pepper Burns. Grace S. Richmond. 
 
 Red Pepper s Patients. Grace S. Richmond. 
 
 Red Seal, The. Natalie Sumner Lincoln. 
 
 Restless Sex, The. Robert W. Chambers. 
 
 Return of Dr. Fu-Manchu, The. Sax Rohmer. 
 
 Return of Frank Clamart, The. Henry C. Rowland. 
 
 Return of Tarzan The. Edgar Rice Burroughs. 
 
 Riddle of the Frozen Flame- The. M. E. and T. W. Hanshew. 
 
 Riddle of the Mysterious Light The. M. E. and T. W. 
 
 Hanshew. 
 Riddle of the Purple Emperor The, M. E. and T. W. 
 
 Hanshew. 
 Riddle of the Spinning Wheel, The, M. E. and T. W. 
 
 Hanshew.
 
 <A T % P OPUL "A R PRI "C E 
 
 Rider of the Golden Bar, The. William Patterson White. 
 
 Rider of the King Log, The. Holman Bay. 
 
 Rider o* the Stars. R. J. Horton. f 
 
 Riders of the Silences. John Frederick. 
 
 Rilla of Ingleside. L. M. Montgomery. 
 
 Rimrock Trail. J. Allan Dunn. 
 
 Rise of Roscoe Paine, The. Joseph C. Lincoln. , 
 
 River Trail, The. Laurie Y. Erskine. 
 
 Robin, Frances Hodgson Burnett. 
 
 Rocks of Valpre, The. Ethel M. Dell. 
 
 Rogues of the North. Albert M. Treynor. 
 
 Romance of a Million Dollars, The. Elizabeth Dejeans. 
 
 Rosa Mundi. Ethel M. Dell. 
 
 Rose of Santa Fe, The. Edwin L. Sabin. 
 
 Round the Corner in Gay Street. Grace S. Richmond. 
 
 Round-Up, The. Oscar J. Friend. 
 
 Rung Ho! Talbot Mundy. 
 
 Rustler of Wind River, The. G. W. Ogdea. 
 
 St Elmo. (111. Ed.) Augusta J. Evans, 
 
 Sand, Olive Wadsley. 
 
 Scarlet Iris, The. Vance Thompson. 
 
 Scattergood Baines. Clarence Budingtori Kelland, 
 
 Second Violin, The. Grace S. Richmond, 
 
 Secret Power, The. Marie CorellK 
 
 Self-Raised. (111). Mrs. SouthwortK. 
 
 Settling of the Sage. Hal G. Evarts. 
 
 Seven Ages of Woman, The. Compton Mackenzie. 
 
 Seven Darlings, The. Gouverneur Morris. 
 
 Seventh Man, The. Max Brand. 
 
 Shadow of the East, The. E. M. Hull. (Photoplay Ed.). 
 
 Shadow on the Glass, The. Charles J. Dutton. 
 
 Shavings. Joseph C. Lincoln. 
 
 Sheik, The. E. M. Hull. 
 
 Sheila of Big Wreck Cove. James H. Cooper. 
 
 Shepherd of the Hills, The. Harold Bell Wright. 
 
 Shepherds of the Wild. Edison Marshall. 
 
 Sheriff of Dyke Hole, The. Ridgwell Cullum. 
 
 Sherry. George Barr McCutcheon. 
 
 Shoe-Bar Stratton. Joseph B. Ames. 
 
 Sight Unseen, and The Confession, Mary Roberts Rinehart, 
 
 Silver Horde, The. Rex Beach. 
 
 Silver Poppy, The. Arthur Stringer. 
 
 Singing Bone, The. R. Austin Freeman. 
 
 Singing Wells, The. Roland Pertwee,
 
 VEST OF RECENT FICTION 
 
 Sinister Mark, The. Lee Thayer. 
 
 Sin That Was His, The. Frank L. Packard. 
 
 Sir or Madam. Berta Ruck. 
 
 Sisters-in-Law. Gertrude Atherton. 
 
 Sky Line of Spruce. Edison Marshall. 
 
 Slayer of Souls, The. Robert W. Chambers. 
 
 Smiles: A Rose of the Cumberland^. Eliot H. Robinson, 
 
 Snowdrift. James B. Hendryx. 
 
 Snowshoe Trail, The. Edison Marshall. 
 
 Son of His Father, The. Ridgwell Cullum. 
 
 6on of Tarzan, The. Edgar Rice Burroughs. 
 
 Souls for Sale. Rupert Hug-hes. (Photoplay Ed.). 
 
 Speckled Bird, A. Augusta Evans Wilson. 
 
 Spirit of the Border, The. Zane Grey. (New Edition). 
 
 Spirit-of-Iron. Harwood Steele. 
 
 Spoilers, The. Rex Beach. (Photoplay Ed.). 
 
 Spoilers of the Valley, The. Robert Watson. 
 
 Star Dust Fannie Hurst. 
 
 Steele of the Royal Mounted. James Oliver Curwood. 
 
 Step on the Stair, The. Anna Katherine Green. 
 
 Still Jim. Honore Willsie. 
 
 Story of Foss River Ranch, The. Ridgwell Cullum. 
 
 Story of Marco, The. Eleanor H. Porter. 
 
 Strange Case of Cavendish, The. Randall Parrish. 
 
 Strawberry Acres. Grace S. Richmond* 
 
 Strength of the Pines, The. Edison Marshall. 
 
 Subconscious Courtship, The. Berta Ruck. 
 
 Substitute Millionaire, The. Hulbert Footner. 
 
 Sudden Jim. Clarence B. Kelland. 
 
 Sweethearts Unmet. Berta Ruck. 
 
 Sweet Stranger. Berta Ruck. 
 
 Tales of Chinatown. Sax Rohmer. 
 
 Tales of Secret Egypt Sax Rohmer. 
 
 Tales of Sherlock Holmes, A. Conan Boyle. 
 
 Talkers, The. Robert W. Chambers. 
 
 Talisman, The. Sir Walter Scott. (Photoplay Ed.). Screened 
 
 as Richard the Lion Hearted. 
 Taming of Zenas Henry, The. Sara Ware Basset 
 Tarzan of the Apes. Edgar Rice Burroughs. 
 Tarzan and the Jewels of Opar. Edgar Rice Burrougna. 
 Tattooed Arm, The. Isabel Ostrander. 
 Tempting of Tavernake, The, E. Phillips Oppenheim. 
 Teas of the DTJrbervilles. Thomas Hardy. (Photoplay Ed.). 
 Tex. Clarence E. Mulford.
 
 g T A POPULAR PRICE 
 
 Texan, The. James B. Hendryx. 
 
 ThankfuTs Inheritance. Joseph C. Lincoln. 
 
 That Affair at "The Cedars." Lee Thayer. 
 
 That Printer of Udell s. Harold Bell Wright. 
 
 Their Yesterdays. Harold Bell Wright. 
 
 Thief of Bagdad, The. Achmed Abdullah. (Photoplay Ed.). 
 
 Thieves Wit. Hulbert! Footner. 
 
 Thirteenth Commandment, The. Rupert Hughes, 
 
 This Side of Paradise. F. Scott Fitzgerald. 
 
 Thoroughbred, The. Henry Kitchell Webster. 
 
 Thread of Flame, The. Basil King. 
 
 Three Black Bags. Marion Polk Angelloti. 
 
 Three Men and a Maid. P. G. Wodehouse. 
 
 Three Musketeers, The. Alexander Dumas. 
 
 Three of Hearts, The. Berta Ruck. 
 
 Through the Shadows with O. Henry. AI. Jennings. 
 
 Thunderbolt, The. Clyde Perrin. 
 
 Timber. Harold Titus. 
 
 Timber Pirate. Charles Christopher Jenkins. 
 
 Tish. Mary Roberts Rinehart. 
 
 To Him That Hath. Ralph Connor. 
 
 Toilers of the Sea, The. Victor Hugo. (Photoplay Ed.). 
 
 Toll of the Sands. Paul Delaney. 
 
 Trail of the Axe, The. Ridgwell Cullum. 
 
 Trailin*. Max Brand. 
 
 Trail to Yesterday, The. Chas. A. Seltzer. 
 
 Treasure of Heaven, The. Marie Corelli. 
 
 Trigger of Conscience, The. Robert Orr Chipperfield. 
 
 Triumph of John Kars, The. Ridgwell Cullum. 
 
 Triumph of the Scarlet Pimpernel, The. Baroness Orczy 
 
 Trodden Gold. Howard Vincent O Brien. 
 
 Trooper O Neill. George Goodchild. 
 
 Trouble at the Pinelands, The. Ernest M. Porter. 
 
 T. Tembarom. Frances Hodgson Burnett. 
 
 fTumbleweeds. Hal G. Evarts. 
 
 Turn of the Tide. Eleanor H. Porter. 
 
 Twenty-fourth of June. Grace S. Richmond. 
 
 Twins of Suffering Creek, The. Ridgwell Cullum. 
 
 Two-Gun Man, The. Chas. A. Seltzer. 
 
 Two-Gun Man, The. Robert Ames Bennet. 
 
 Two-Gun Sue. Douglas Grant. 
 
 Type*. Herman Melville. 
 
 fTyrrel of the Cow Country. Robert Ames Bennet, 
 
 Under Handicap. Jackson Gregory.
 
 THE BEST OF DECENT FICTION 
 
 Under the Country Sky. Grace S. Richmond. 
 
 Uneasy Street. Arthur Somers Roche. 
 
 Unlatched Door, The. Lee Thayer. 
 
 Unpardonable Shi, The. Major Rupert Hughe*, 
 
 Unseen Ear, The. Natalie Sumner Lincoln. 
 
 Untamed, The. Max Brand. 
 
 Up and Coming. Nalbro Bartley. 
 
 Up From Slavery. Booker T. Washington. 
 
 Ursula Trent. W. L. George. 
 
 Valiants of Virginia, The. Hallie Erminie Rhres. 
 
 Valley of Content, The. Blanche Upright. 
 
 Valley of Fear, The. Sir A. Conan Doyle. 
 
 Valley of Gold, The. David Howarth. 
 
 Valley of the Sun, The. William M. McCoy. 
 
 Vandemark s Folly. Herbert Quick. 
 
 Vanguards of the Plains. Margaret Hill McCarter. 
 
 Vanished Messenger, The. E. Phillips Oppenheim. 
 
 Vanishing of Betty Varian, The. Carolyn Wells. 
 
 Vanity Fair. Wm. M. Thackeray. (Photoplay Ed.). 
 
 Vashti. Augusta Evans Wilson. 
 
 Viola Gwyn. George Barr McCutcheon. 
 
 Virginia of Elk Creek Valley. Mary Ellen Chase. 
 
 Virtuous Wives. Owen Johnson. 
 
 Voice of the Pack, The. Edison Marshall. 
 
 Wagon Wheel, The. William Patterson White. 
 
 Wall Between, The. Sara, Ware Bassett 
 
 Wall of Men, A. Margaret Hill McCarter. 
 
 Wasted Generation, The. Owen Johnson. 
 
 Watchers of the Pianos, The. Ridgwell Cullum. 
 
 Way of an Eagle, The. Ethel M. Dell. 
 
 Way of the Strong, The. Ridgwell Cullum. 
 
 Way of These Women, The. E. Phillips Oppenheim. 
 
 We Can t Have Everything. Major Rupert Hughes. 
 
 Weavers, The. Gilbert Parker. 
 
 West Broadway. Nina Wilcox Putnam. 
 
 West Wind Drift George Barr McCutcheon. 
 
 What s the World Coming To? Rupert Hughes. 
 
 What Will People Say? Rupert Hughes. 
 
 Wheels Within Wheels. Carolyn Wells. 
 
 Whelps of the Wolf, The. George Marsh. 
 
 When a Man s a Man. Harold Bell Wright. (Photoplay EA>. 
 
 When Egypt Went Broke. Holman Bay. 
 
 Where the Sun Swings North. Barnett Willoughby. 
 
 Where There s a Will. Mary Roberts Rinehart
 
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 Whispering Sage. Henry Sinclair Drago and Joseph Noel 
 
 White Jacket Herman Melville. 
 
 White Moll, The. Frank L, Packard. 
 
 Why Not. Margaret Widdemer. 
 
 Window at the White Cat, The. Mary Roberts Rinehart. 
 
 Winds of Chance, The. Rex Beach. 
 
 Winds of the World, The. Talbot Mundy. 
 
 Wine of Life, The. Arthur Stringer. 
 
 Winning of Barbara Worth, The. Harold Bell Wright. 
 
 Winning the Wilderness. Margaret Hill McCarter. 
 
 Wire Devils, The. Frank L. Packard. 
 
 Wire Tappers, The. Arthur Stringer. 
 
 Wishing Ring Man, The. Margaret Widdemer. 
 
 With Juliet in England. Grace S. Richmond. 
 
 Within These Walls. Rupert Hughes. 
 
 Wolfville. Alfred Henry Lewis. 
 
 Woman from "Outside," The. Hulbert Footner. 
 
 Woman Gives, The. Owen Johnson. 
 
 Woman Haters, The. Joseph C. Lincoln. 
 
 Woman of Knockaloe, The. Hall Caine. 
 
 Woman Thou Gavest Me, The. Hall Caine. 
 
 Woodcarver of Lympus, The. Mary E. Waller. 
 
 Wooing of Rosamond Fayre, The. Berta Ruck. 
 
 Wrong Mr. Right, The. Berta Ruck. 
 
 Year of Delight. Margaret Widdemer. 
 
 Years for Rachel, The. Berta Ruck. 
 
 Yellow Claw, The. Sax Rohmer. 
 
 Yellow Horde, The. Hal G. Evarts. 
 
 You re Only Young Once. Margaret Widdemer. 
 
 Zeppelin s Passenger, The, . Phillips Oppenheim,
 
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