LOYE, THE 
 FIDDLER 
 
 LLOYD 
 C&BOURHE 
 
 i 
 
University of California Berkeley 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
LOVE, 
 THE FIDDLER 
 
 BY LLOYD OSBOURNE 
 
 New York: M c Clure, Phillips 
 Company 
 Mcmiii 
 
Copyright, 1903, by 
 McCLURE, PHILLIPS & CO. 
 
 Published, September, 1903 
 
v* 
 
 ,^. 
 tf^^" 
 
 3 LEWIS VANUXEM 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 THE CHIEF ENGINEER, 3 
 
 FFRENCHES FlRST, 93 
 
 THE GOLDEN CASTAWAYS, 139 
 
 THE AWAKENING OF GEORGE RAYMOND, . . . 175 
 
 THE MASCOT OF BATTERY B, ..... 247 
 
THE CHIEF ENGINE ER 
 
THE CHIEF ENGINEER 
 I 
 
 FRANK Rignold had never been the 
 favoured suitor, not at least so far as 
 anything definite was concerned ; but he 
 had always been welcome at the little house on 
 Commonwealth Street, and amongst the neigh- 
 bours his name and that of Florence Fenacre 
 were coupled as a matter of course and every old 
 lady within a radius of three miles regarded the 
 match as good as settled. It was not Frank's 
 fault that it was not, for he was deeply in love 
 with the widow's daughter and looked forward 
 to such an end to their acquaintance as the very 
 dearest thing fate could give him. But in these 
 affairs it is necessary to carry the lady with you 
 and the lady, though she had never said 
 " no," had not yet been prevailed upon to say 
 
 [3] 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 " yes." In fact she preferred to leave the 
 matter as it was, and boldly forestalling a set 
 proposal, had managed to convey to Frank 
 Rignold that it was her wish he should not 
 make one. 
 
 " Let us be good friends," she would say, 
 " and as for anything else, Frank, there's 
 plenty of time to consider that by and by. 
 Isn't it enough already that we like each 
 other?" 
 
 Frank did not think it was enough, but he was 
 not without intuition and willing to accept the 
 little offered him and be grateful rather than 
 risk all, and almost certainly lose all, by too 
 exigent a suit. For Florence Fenacre was the 
 acknowledged beauty of the town, with a dozen 
 eligible men at her feet, and was more courted 
 and sought after than any girl in the place. 
 The place, to give it its name, was Bridgeport, 
 one of those dead-alive little ports on the Atlan- 
 tic seaboard, with a dozen factories and some 
 
 [4] 
 
THE CHIEF ENGINEER 
 
 decaying wharves and that tranquil air of having 
 had a past. 
 
 The widow and her pretty daughter lived in 
 a low-roofed, red-brick house that faced the 
 street and sheltered a long deep shady garden 
 in the rear. Land and house had been bought 
 with whale oil. Their little income, derived 
 from the rent of three barren and stony farms 
 and amounting to not more than sixty dollars a 
 month, represented a capitalisation of whale oil. 
 Even the old grey church whither they went 
 twice of a Sunday, was whale oil too, and had 
 been built in bygone days by the sturdy captains 
 who now lay all around it under slabs of stone. 
 There amongst them was Florence's father and 
 her grandfather and her great-grandfather, to- 
 gether with the Macys and the Coffins and the 
 Cabotts with whom they had sailed and quar- 
 relled and loved and intermarried in the 
 years now gone. The wide world had not been 
 too wide for them to sail it round and reap the 
 
 [si 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 harvests of far-off seas; but in death they lay 
 side by side, their voyages done, their bones 
 mingling in the New England earth. 
 
 Frank Rignold too was a son of Bridgeport, 
 and the sea which ran in that blood for genera- 
 tions bade him in manhood to rise and follow 
 it. He had gone into the engine-room, and at 
 thirty was the chief engineer of a cargo boat 
 running to South American ports. He was a 
 fine-looking man with earnest grey eyes ; a reader, 
 a student, an observer; self-taught in Spanish, 
 Latin, and French; a grave, quiet gentlemanly 
 man, whose rare smile seemed to light his whole 
 face, and who in his voyages South had caught 
 something of Spanish grace and courtliness. 
 He returned as regularly to Bridgeport as his 
 ship did to New York; and when he stepped off 
 the train his eager steps took him first to the 
 Fenacres' house, his hands never empty of some 
 little present for his sweetheart. 
 
 On the occasion of our story his step was more 
 [6] 
 
THE CHIEF ENGINEER 
 
 buoyant than ever and his heart beat high with 
 hope, for she had cried the last time he went 
 away, and though no word of love had yet been 
 spoken between them, he was conscious of her 
 increasing inclination for him and her increasing 
 dependence. Having already won so much it 
 seemed as though his passionate devotion could 
 not fail to turn the scale and bring her to that 
 admission he felt it was on her lips to make. So 
 he strode through the narrow streets, telling 
 himself a fairy story of how it all might be, with 
 a little house of their own and she waiting for 
 him on the wharf when his ship made fast; a 
 story that never grew stale in the repetition, but 
 which, please God, would come true in the end, 
 with Florence his wife, and all his doubtings and 
 heart-aches over. 
 
 Florence opened the door for him herself and 
 
 gave a little cry of surprise and welcome as they 
 
 shook hands, for in all their acquaintance there 
 
 had never been a kiss between them. It was all 
 
 [7] 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 he could do not to catch her in his arms, for as 
 she smiled up at him, so radiant and beautiful 
 and happy, it seemed as if it were his right and 
 that he had been a fool to have ever questioned 
 her love for him. He followed her into the 
 sitting-room, laughing like a child with pleasure 
 and thrilled through and through with the 
 sound of her voice and the touch of her hand and 
 the vague, subtle perfume of her whole being. 
 His laughter died away, however, as he saw 
 what the room contained. Over the chairs, 
 over the sofa, over the table, in the stacked and 
 open pasteboard boxes on the floor, were dresses 
 and evening gowns outspread with the profusion 
 of a splendid shop, and even to his unpractised 
 eyes, costly and magnificent beyond anything he 
 had ever seen before. Florence swept an opera 
 cloak from a chair and made him sit down, 
 watching him the while with a charming gaiety 
 and excitement. At such a moment it seemed 
 to him positively heartless. 
 [8] 
 
THE CHIEF ENGINEER 
 
 " Florence," he said, almost with a gasp, 
 
 " does this mean that you are going to be " 
 
 He stopped short. He could not say that 
 word. 
 
 " I'm never going to marry anybody, 1 * she 
 returned. 
 
 " But " he began again. 
 
 " Then you haven't heard ! " she cried, clasp- 
 ing her hands. " Oh, Frank, you haven't 
 heard!" 
 
 " I have only just got back," he said. 
 
 " I've been left heaps of money," she ex- 
 claimed, " from my uncle, you know, the one 
 that treated father so badly and tricked him out 
 of the old manor farm. I hardly knew he 
 existed till he died. And it's not only a lot, 
 Frank, but it's millions! " 
 
 He repeated the word with a kind of groan. 
 
 " They are probating the will for six," she 
 went on, not noticing his agitation, " but I'm 
 sure the lawyers are making it as low as they can 
 
 [9] 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 for the taxes. And it's the most splendid kind 
 of property rows of houses in the heart of 
 New York and big Broadway shops and sky- 
 scrapers! Frank, do you realise I own two 
 office buildings twenty stories high ? " 
 
 Frank tried to congratulate her on her won- 
 derful good fortune, but it was like a voice from 
 the grave and he could not affect to be glad at 
 the death-knell of all his hopes. 
 
 " That lets me out," he said. 
 
 " My poor Frank, you never were in," she 
 said, regarding him with great kindness and 
 compassion. " I know you are disappointed, 
 but you are too much a man to be unjust 
 to me." 
 
 " Oh, I haven't the right to say a word! " he 
 exclaimed quickly. " On your side it was 
 friends and nothing more. I always understood 
 that, Florence." 
 
 He was shocked at her almost imperceptible 
 sigh of relief. 
 
 [10] 
 
THE CHIEF ENGINEER 
 
 " Of course, this changes everything,'* she 
 said. 
 
 " Yet it would have come if it hadn't been for 
 this," he said. " You were getting to like me 
 better and better. You cried when I last went 
 away. Yes, it would have come, Florence," he 
 repeated, looking at her wistfully. 
 
 " I suppose it would, Frank," she said. 
 
 " Oh, Florence ! " he exclaimed, and could not 
 go on lest his voice should betray him. 
 
 " And we should have lived in a poky little 
 house," she said, " and you would have been to 
 sea three-quarters of the time, leaving me to eat 
 my heart out as mother did for father and it 
 would have been a horrible, dreadful, irrevoca- 
 ble mistake." 
 
 " I didn't have to go to sea," he said, snatch- 
 ing at this crumb of hope. " There are other 
 jobs than ships. Why, only last trip I was 
 offered a refrigerating plant in Chicago ! " 
 
 He did not tell her it bore a salary of four 
 
 cm 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 hundred dollars a month and that he had meant 
 to lay it at her feet that morning. In the light 
 of her millions that sum, so considerable an 
 hour before, had suddenly shrunk to nothing. 
 How puny and pitiful it seemed in the contrast. 
 He had a sense that everything had shrunk to 
 nothing his life, his hopes, his future. 
 
 " I know you think I am cruel," she said, in 
 the same calm, considerate tone she had used 
 throughout. " But I never gave you any en- 
 couragement, Frank not in the way you 
 wanted or expected. You were the only person 
 I knew who was the least bit cultivated and nice 
 and travelled and out of the commonplace. I 
 can't tell you how much you brightened my life 
 here, or how glad I was when you came or how 
 sorry I was when you went away but it wasn't 
 love, Frank not the love you wished for or 
 the love I feel I have the power to give." 
 
 " Why did you let me go on then? " he broke 
 out, " I getting deeper and deeper into it and 
 
 [12] 
 
THE CHIEF ENGINEER 
 
 you knowing all the time it never could come to 
 anything? Just because no words were said, did 
 that make you blind? If you were such a 
 friend of mine as you said you were, wouldn't it 
 have been kinder to have shown me the door 
 and tell me straight out it was hopeless and 
 impossible? Oh, Florence, you took my love 
 when you wanted it, like a person getting warm 
 at a fire, and now when you don't need it any 
 longer you tell me quite unconcernedly that it is 
 all over between us ! " 
 
 " It would sound so heartless to tell you the 
 real truth, Frank," she said. 
 
 "Oh, let me hear it!" he said. " I'm 
 desperate enough for anything even for that, 
 I suppose." 
 
 " I knew it would end the way you wanted it, 
 Frank," she said. " You were getting to mean 
 more and more to me. I did not love you 
 exactly and I did not worry a particle when you 
 were away, but I sort of acquiesced in what 
 
 [13] 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 seemed to be the inevitable. I know I am hor- 
 ribly to blame, but I took it for granted we'd 
 drift on and on and this time, if you had 
 asked me, I had made up my mind to say ' yes.' " 
 
 She said this last word in almost a whisper, 
 frightened at the sight of Frank's pale face. 
 She ran over to him, and throwing her arms 
 around his neck kissed him again and again. 
 
 " We'll always be friends, Frank," she said. 
 "Always, always! " 
 
 He made no movement to return her caresses. 
 Her kisses humiliated him to the quick. He 
 pushed her away from him, and when he spoke 
 it was with dignity and gentleness. 
 
 " I was wrong to reproach you," he said. 
 " I can appreciate what a difference all this 
 money makes to you. It has lifted you into 
 another world a world where I cannot hope to 
 follow you, but I can be man enough to say that 
 I understand that I acquiesce without bitter- 
 
 ness." 
 
 [14] 
 
THE CHIEF ENGINEER 
 
 " I never liked you so well as I do now, 
 Frank," she said. 
 
 " We will say nothing more about it," he said. 
 " I couldn't blame you because you don't love 
 me, could I? I ought rather instead to thank 
 you thank you for so much you have given me 
 these two years past, your friendship, your in- 
 timacy, your trust. That it all came to nothing 
 was neither your fault nor mine. It was your 
 uncle's for dying and leaving you sky-scrapers!" 
 
 They both laughed at this, and Frank, now 
 apparently quite himself again, brought forth 
 his presents: a large box of candy, a beautifully 
 bound little volume of Pierre Loti, and a lace 
 collar he had picked up at Buenos Ayres. This 
 last seemed a trifling piece of finery in the midst 
 of all those dresses, though he had paid sixteen 
 dollars for it and had counted it cheap at the 
 price. Florence received it with exaggerated 
 gratitude, genuine enough in one way, for she 
 was touched; but, in spite of herself, her altered 
 [15] 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 fortunes and the memory of those great New 
 York shops, where she had ordered right and 
 left, made the bit of lace seem common and 
 scarce worth possessing. Even as she thanked 
 him she was mentally presenting it to one of 
 the poor Miss Browns who sang in the church 
 choir. 
 
 They spent an hour in talking together, elud- 
 ing on either side any further reference to the 
 subject most in their thoughts and finding 
 safety in books and the little gossip of the place 
 and the news of the day. It might have been 
 an ordinary call, though Frank, as a special 
 favour, was allowed to smoke a cigar, and there 
 was a strained look in Florence's face that gave 
 the lie to her previous professions of indiffer- 
 ence. She knew she was violating her own 
 heart, but her character was already corrupting 
 under the breath of wealth, and her head was 
 turned with dreams of social conquests and of a 
 great and splendid match in the roseate future. 
 [16] 
 
THE CHIEF ENGINEER 
 
 She kept telling herself how lucky it was that the 
 money had not come too late, and wondering at 
 the same time whether she would ever again 
 meet a man who had such a compelling charm 
 for her as Frank Rignold, and whose mellow 
 voice could move her to the depths. At last, 
 after a decent interval, Frank said he would 
 have to leave, and she accompanied him to the 
 door, where he begged her to remember him to 
 her mother and added something congratulatory 
 about the great good fortune that had befallen 
 her. 
 
 " And now good-bye,'* he said. 
 
 " But you will come back, Frank? " she ex- 
 claimed anxiously. 
 
 44 Oh, no ! " he said. " I couldn't, Florence, 
 I couldn't." 
 
 " I cannot let you go like this," she protested. 
 " Really I can't, Frank. I won't ! " 
 
 " I don't see very well how you can help it," 
 he said. 
 
 [17] 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 " Surely my wish has still some weight with 
 you," she said. 
 
 " Florence," he returned, holding her hand 
 very tight, " you must not think it pique on my 
 part or anything so petty and unworthy ; but I'd 
 rather stop right here than endure the pain of 
 seeing you get more and more indifferent to me. 
 It is bound to come, of course, and it would be 
 less cruel this way than the other." 
 
 1 You never can have loved me!" she ex- 
 claimed. " Didn't I say I wanted to be friends ? 
 Didn't I kiss you?" 
 
 1 Yes," he said slowly, " as you might a child, 
 to comfort him for a broken toy. Florence," 
 he went on, " I have wanted you for the last two 
 years and now I have lost you. I must face up 
 to that. I must meet it with what fortitude I 
 can. But I cannot bear to feel that every time I 
 come you will like me less ; that others will crowd 
 me out and take my place; that the gulf will 
 widen and widen until at last it is impassable. I 
 [18] 
 
THE CHIEF ENGINEER 
 
 am going while you still love me a little and will 
 miss me. Good-bye ! " 
 
 She leaned her head on his shoulder and 
 sobbed. She had but to say one word to keep 
 him, and yet she would not say it. Her heart 
 seemed broken in her breast, and yet she let him 
 go, sustained in her resolve by the thought of 
 her great fortune and of the wonderful days to 
 come. 
 
 " Good-bye," she said, and stood looking after 
 him as he walked slowly away. 
 
 " Oh, that money, I hate it ! " she exclaimed 
 to herself as she went in. "I wish he had never 
 left it to me. I didn't want it or expect it or 
 anything, and I should have been happy, oh, so 
 happy ! " Then, with a pang, she recalled the 
 refrigerating plant, and the life so quiet and 
 poor and simple and sweet that she and Frank 
 would have led had not her millions come be- 
 tween them. 
 
 "Her millions!" 
 
 [19] 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 It was inspiriting to repeat those two words 
 to herself. It strengthened her resolve and made 
 her feel how wise she had been to break with 
 Frank. Perhaps, after all, it were better for 
 him not to come back. He was right about the 
 gulf between them, and even since his departure 
 it was widening appreciably. 
 
 Then she realised what all rich people realise 
 sooner or later. 
 
 " I don't own all that money," she said to 
 herself. " It owns me! " And with that she 
 went indoors and cried part of the forenoon 
 and spent the rest of it in trying on her new 
 clothes. 
 
 Wealth, if it did not bring happiness, at least 
 brought some pleasant distractions. 
 
 II 
 
 It was fully a year before Frank saw her 
 again; a long year to him, soberly passed 
 in his shipboard duties, with recurring weeks 
 
 [20] 
 
THE CHIEF ENGINEER 
 
 ashore at New York and Buenos Ayres. He 
 had grown more reserved and silent than 
 before ; fonder of his books ; keener in his taste 
 for abstract science. He avoided his old friends 
 and made no new ones. The world seemed to 
 be passing him while he stood still. He won- 
 dered how others could laugh when his own 
 heart was so heavy, and he preferred to go his 
 own way, solitary and unnoticed, taking an in- 
 creasing pleasure in his isolation. He contin- 
 ued to write to Bridgeport, for there were a few 
 old friends whom he could not disregard alto- 
 gether, though he made his letters as infre- 
 quent as he could and as short. In return he 
 was kept informed of Florence's movements; of 
 the sensation she made everywhere ; of the great 
 people who had taken her under their wing; of 
 her rumoured engagements; of her triumphs 
 in Paris and London; of her yachts and 
 horses and splendour and beauty. His cor- 
 respondents showed an artless pride in the re- 
 
 [21] 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 cital. It was becoming their only claim to con- 
 sideration that they knew Florence Fenacre. 
 Her dazzling life reflected a sort of glory upon 
 themselves, and their letters ran endlessly on the 
 same theme. It was all a modern fairy tale, 
 and they fairly bubbled with satisfaction to think 
 that they knew the fairy princess ! 
 
 Frank read it all with exasperation. It tor- 
 mented him to even hear her name; to be re- 
 minded of her in any way; to realise that she 
 was as much alive as he himself, and not the 
 phantom he would have preferred to keep her 
 in his memory. Yet he was inconsistent enough 
 to rage when a letter came that brought no news 
 of her. He would tear it into pieces and throw 
 it out of his cabin window. The fools, why 
 couldn't they tell him what he wanted to know ! 
 He would carry his ill-humour into the engine- 
 room and revenge himself on fate and the loss 
 of the woman he loved by a harsh criticism of 
 his subordinates. A defective pump or a trou- 
 
 [22] 
 
THE CHIEF ENGINEER 
 
 blesome valve would set his temper flaming; and 
 then, overcome at his own injustice, he would go 
 to the other extreme; and, roundly blaming him- 
 self, would slap some sullen artificer on the back 
 and tell him that it was all a joke. His men, 
 amongst themselves, called him a wild cracked 
 devil, and it was the tattle of the ship that he 
 drank hard in secret. They knew something 
 was wrong with him, and fastened on the likeli- 
 est cause. Others said out boldly that the chief 
 engineer was going crazy. 
 
 One morning as they were running up the 
 Sound, homeward-bound, they passed a large 
 steam yacht at anchor. Frank happened to be 
 on deck at the time, and he joined with the rest 
 in the little chorus of admiration that went up 
 at the sight of her. 
 
 " That's the Minnehaha" said the second 
 mate. " She belongs to the beautiful heiress, 
 Miss Fenacre ! " 
 
 " Ready for a Mediterranean cruise," said 
 [23] 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 the purser, who had been reading one of the 
 newspapers the pilot had brought aboard. 
 
 Frank heard these two remarks in silence. 
 The sun, to him, seemed to stop shining. The 
 morning that had been so bright and pleasant all 
 at once overcame him with disgust. The might- 
 have-been took him by the throat. He descended 
 into the engine-room to hide his dejected face in 
 the heated oily atmosphere below; and seating 
 himself on a tool-chest he watched, with hardly 
 seeing eyes, the ponderous movement of his 
 machinery. 
 
 It was the anodyne for his troubles, to feel 
 the vibration of the engines and hear the 
 rumble and hiss of the jacketed cylinders. It 
 always comforted him; he found companion- 
 ship in the mighty thing he controlled; he 
 looked at the trembling needle in the gauge, 
 and instinctively noted the pressure as he thought 
 of the trim smart vessel at anchor and of his dear 
 one on the eve of parting. He wondered 
 
THE CHIEF ENGINEER 
 
 svhether they would ever pass again, he and she, 
 in all the years to come. 
 
 The thought of the yacht haunted him all that 
 day. He took a sudden revulsion against the 
 grinding routine of his own life. It came over 
 him like a new discovery, that he was tired of 
 South America, tired of his ship, tired of every- 
 thing. He contrasted his own voyages in and 
 out, from the same place to the same place, up 
 and down, up and down, as regular as the swing 
 of a pendulum with that gay wanderer of the 
 raking masts who was free to roam the world. 
 It came over him with an insistence that he, 
 too, would like to roam the world, and see 
 strange places and old marble palaces with 
 steps descending into the blue sea water, and 
 islands with precipices and beaches and palm 
 trees. 
 
 Almost awed at his own presumption he sat 
 down and wrote to Miss Fenacre. 
 
 It was a short note, formally addressed, beg- 
 
 [251 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 ging her for a position in the engine-room staff. 
 He knew, he said, that the quota was probably 
 made up, and that he could not hope for an im- 
 portant place. But if she would take him as a 
 first-class artificer he would be more than grate- 
 ful, and ventured on the little pleasantry that 
 even if he had to be squeezed in as a supernum- 
 erary he was confident he could save her his pay 
 and keep a good many times over. 
 
 He got an answer a couple of days later, ad- 
 dressed from a fashionable New York hotel and 
 granting him an interview. She called him 
 " dear Frank," and signed herself " ever yours," 
 and said that of course she would give him any- 
 thing he wanted, only that she would prefer to 
 talk it over first. 
 
 He put on his best clothes and went to see her, 
 being shown into a large suite on the second 
 floor, where he had to wait an hour in a lofty 
 anteroom with no other company but a statue of 
 Pocahontas. He was oppressed by the gor- 
 
THE CHIEF ENGINEER 
 
 geousness of the surroundings by the frowning 
 pictures, the gilt furniture, the onyx-topped 
 tables, the vases, the mirrors, the ornate clocks. 
 He was in a fever of expectation, and could not 
 fight down his growing timidity. He had hot 
 seen Florence for a year, and his heart would 
 have been as much in his mouth had the meeting 
 been set in the old brick house at Bridgeport. 
 At least he said so to himself, not caring to con- 
 fess that he was daunted by the magnificence of 
 the apartment. 
 
 At length the door opened and she came in. 
 She stood for a moment with her hand on the 
 knob and looked at him ; then she came over to 
 him with a little rush and took his outstretched 
 hand. He had forgotten how beautiful she 
 was, or probably he had never really known, as 
 he had never beheld her before in one of those 
 wonderful French creations that cost each one a 
 fortune. He stumbled over his words of greet- 
 ing, and his hand trembled as he held hers. 
 
 [27] 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 " Oh, Frank," she said, noticing his agita- 
 tion. " Are you still silly enough to care? " 
 
 " I am afraid I do, Florence," he said, blush- 
 ing like a boy at her unexpected question. 
 " What's the good of asking me that? " 
 
 1 You are looking handsome, Frank," she 
 ran on. " I am proud of you. You have the 
 nicest hair of any man I know ! " 
 
 " I daren't say how stunning you look, Flor- 
 ence," he returned. 
 
 " Frank," she said, slowly, fixing her lus- 
 trous eyes on his face, " you usen't to be so 
 grave. ... I don't think you have smiled 
 much lately . . . you are changed." 
 
 He bore her scrutiny with silence. 
 
 " Poor boy! " she exclaimed, impulsively tak- 
 ing his hand. " I'm the most heartless creature 
 in the whole world. Do you know, Frank, 
 though I look so nice and girlish, I am really a 
 brute; and when I die I am sure to go to hell." 
 
 " I hope not," he said, smiling. 
 
 [28] 
 
THE CHIEF ENGINEER 
 
 " Oh, but I know ! " she cried. " All I ever 
 do is to make people miserable." 
 
 " Perhaps it's the people's fault, for for 
 loving you, Florence," he said. 
 
 " It's awfully exciting to see you again," she 
 went on. " You came within an ace of being 
 my husband. I might have belonged to you and 
 counted your washing. It's queer, isn't it? 
 Thrilling!" 
 
 " Why do you bring all that up, Florence? " 
 he said. " It's done. It's over. I I would 
 rather not speak of it." 
 
 " But it was such an awfully near thing, 
 Frank," she persisted. " I had made up my 
 mind to take you, you know. I had even looked 
 over my poor little clothes and had drawn a 
 hundred dollars out of the savings bank! " 
 
 " You don't take much account of a hundred 
 dollars now," he returned, trying to smile. 
 
 " I know you don't want to talk about it," shq 
 said, " but I do. I love to play with emotions, 
 
 [29] 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 I suppose it's a habit, like any other," she con- 
 tinued, " and it grows on one like opium or mor- 
 phine. That's why I'll go to hell, Frank. It 
 wasn't that way at all when you used to know 
 me. I think I must have been nice then, and 
 really worth loving ! " 
 
 " Oh, yes!" he returned miserably. " Oh, 
 yes!" 
 
 " I have a whole series of the most compli- 
 cated emotions about you," she said, " only a 
 lot of them are unexploded, like fire crackers be- 
 fore they are touched off. If I lost all my money 
 I'd be in a panic till you came and took me ; but 
 as long as I have it I don't think of you more 
 than once a week. Yet, do you know, Frank, 
 if you got a sweetheart, I believe I'd scratch her 
 eyes out. It's rather fine of me to tell you all 
 that," she went on, with a smile, " for I'm 
 giving you the key of the combination, and you 
 might take advantage of it ! " 
 
 " Florence," he said, " I thought at first you 
 [30] 
 
THE CHIEF ENGINEER 
 
 were just laughing at me, but I see that you are 
 right. You are heartless. You oughtn't to talk 
 like that." 
 
 She looked a shade put out. 
 
 " Well, Frank, it's the truth, anyway," she 
 said, " and in the old days we were always such 
 sticklers for the truth for sincerity, you know 
 weren't we? " 
 
 " I have no business to correct you," he said 
 humbly. " I resigned all my pretensions that 
 morning in the old house." 
 
 " Well, so long as you love me still ! " she ex- 
 claimed, with a little mocking laugh. " That's 
 the great thing, isn't it? I mean for me, of 
 course. I am greedy for love. It makes me 
 feel so safe and comfortable to think there are 
 whole rows of men that love me. When you 
 have a great fortune you begin to appreciate the 
 things that money cannot buy." 
 
 " Oh, your money ! " he said. That word in 
 her mouth always stung him. 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 " Well, you ought to hate my money, " she 
 remarked cheerfully. " It queered you, didn't 
 it ? And then all rich people are detestable, any- 
 way selfish to the core, and horrid. Do you 
 know that sometimes when I have flirted aw- 
 fully with a man at a dinner or somewhere, and 
 the next day he telephones and the telephone is 
 in the next room I've just said : ' Oh, bother ! 
 tell him I'm out, 1 rather than take the trouble 
 to get up from my chair. And a nice man, 
 too!" 
 
 " I thought I might be treated the same way," 
 he said. 
 
 ' Then you thought wrong, Frank," she 
 returned, with a sudden change from her 
 tone of flippancy and lightness. " I haven't 
 sunk quite as low as that, you know. I meant 
 other people I didn't mean you, Frank, 
 dear." 
 
 This was said with such a little ring of kind- 
 ness that Frank was moved. 
 [32] 
 
THE CHIEF ENGINEER 
 
 " Then the old days still count for some- 
 thing? " he said. 
 
 " Oh, yes ! " she said. 
 
 " But not enough to hurt? " he ventured. 
 
 " Sometimes they do and sometimes they 
 don't," she returned. " It depends on how good 
 a time I'm having. But I hate to think I'm 
 weak and selfish and vain, and that the only per- 
 son I really care for is myself. I value my self- 
 esteem, and it often gets an awful jar. Some- 
 times I feel like a girl that has run away from 
 home diamonds and dyed hair, you know 
 and then wakes up at night and cries to think 
 of what a price she has paid for all her fine 
 things!" Florence waved her hand towards 
 the alabaster statue of Pocahontas, with a little 
 ripple of self-disdain. She was in a strange 
 humour, and beneath the surface of her appar- 
 ent gaiety there ran an undercurrent of bitter- 
 ness and contempt for herself. Her eyes were 
 unusually brilliant, and her cheeks were pink 
 
 [33] 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 enough to have been rouged. The sight of her 
 old lover had stirred many memories in her 
 bosom. 
 
 "And what about my job, Florence?" he 
 said, changing the conversation. " I've caught 
 the yachting idea, too. Can it be managed?" 
 
 " Oh, I want to talk to you about that," she 
 said. 
 
 " Well, go on," he said, as she hesitated. 
 
 " I am so afraid of hurting your feelings, 
 Frank," she said with a singular timidity. 
 
 " My feelings are probably tougher than you 
 think," he returned. 
 
 " You will think so badly of me," she said. 
 " You will be affronted." 
 
 " It sounds as though you wanted to engage 
 me for your butler," he said. Then, as she still 
 withheld the words on her lips, he went on: 
 " Don't be uneasy about saying it, Florence. If 
 it's impossible why, that's the end of it, of 
 course, and no harm done." 
 
 [34] 
 
THE CHIEF ENGINEER 
 
 " I want you to come," she said simply. 
 
 "Then, what's the trouble?" he demanded, 
 getting more and more mystified. " I don't 
 mind being an artificer the least bit. I like to 
 work with my hands. Fm a good mechanic, 
 and I like it." 
 
 " I want you for my chief engineer," she 
 said. 
 
 This was news, indeed. Frank's face betrayed 
 his keen pleasure. He had never soared to the 
 heights of asking or expecting that. 
 
 " I had to dismiss the last one," she went on. 
 " That's the reason why Fm still here, and not 
 two days out, as I had expected. He locked 
 himself in his cabin and shot at people through 
 the door, and told awful lies to the newspapers." 
 
 " If it's anything about my qualifications," he 
 said, thinking he had found the reason of her 
 backwardness, " I don't fancy I'll have any 
 trouble to satisfy you. I don't want to toot my 
 own horn, Florence, but really, you know, I am 
 
 [35] 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 rated a first-class man. I'll prove that by my 
 certificates and all that, or give me two weeks' 
 trial, and see for yourself." 
 
 " Oh, it isn't that," she said. 
 
 " Then, what is it? " he broke out. " Only 
 the other day they offered me a Western Ocean 
 liner, and, if you like, I'll send you the letter. If 
 I am good enough for a big passenger ship, 
 I guess I can run the Minnehaha to please 
 you ! " 
 
 " Frank," she returned, " it is not a question 
 of your competency at all. You know very well 
 I'd trust my life to you, blindfold. It's it's the 
 social side, the old affair between us, the first 
 names and all that kind of thing." 
 
 " Oh, I see! "he said blankly. 
 
 " As an officer on my ship," she said, " you 
 could easily put yourself and me in a difficult 
 position. In a way, we'll really be further apart 
 than if you were in South America and I in 
 Monte Carlo, for, though we'd always be good 
 
 [36] 
 
THE CHIEF ENGINEER 
 friends, and all that, the formalities would have 
 to be observed. Now, I have offended you? " 
 she added, putting out her hand appealingly. 
 
 " I think you might have known me better, 
 Florence," he returned. " I am not offended 
 what right have I to be offended only a little 
 hurt, perhaps, to think that you could doubt me 
 for a single moment in such a mater. I under- 
 stand very well, and appreciate the need for it. 
 Did you expect me to call you Florence on the 
 quarterdeck of your own vessel, and presume on 
 our old friendship to embarrass you and set peo- 
 ple talking? Good Heavens, what do you take 
 me for?" 
 
 " Don't be angry with me, Frank," she 
 pleaded. " It had to be said, you know. I 
 wanted you so much to come ; I wanted to share 
 my beautiful vessel with you; and yet I dreaded 
 any kind of a false position." 
 
 " I shall treat you precisely as I would any 
 owner of any ship I sailed on," he said. ' That 
 
 [37] 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 is, with respect and always preserving my dis- 
 tance. I will never address you first except to 
 say good-morning and good-evening, and will 
 show no concern if you do not speak to me for 
 days on end." 
 
 " Oh, Frank, you are an angel! " she cried. 
 
 " No," he returned, " only as far as I can 
 a gentleman, Miss Fenacre." 
 
 " We needn't begin now, Frank," she ex- 
 claimed, almost with annoyance. 
 
 " Am I in your service? " he asked. 
 
 " From to-day," she answered, u and I will 
 give you a note to Captain Landry." 
 
 " Then you will he Miss Fenacre to me from 
 now on," he said. 
 
 " You must say good-bye to Florence first," 
 she said, smiling. " You may kiss my hand," 
 she said, as she gave it to him. " You used to 
 do it so gallantly in the old days such a Span- 
 iard that you are, Frank and I liked it so 
 much!" 
 
 [38] 
 
THE CHIEF ENGINEER 
 
 He did so, and for the first time in his life 
 with a kind of shame. 
 
 " I hope we are not both of us making a ter- 
 rible mistake, Florence," he said. 
 
 " Oh, I couldn't want a better chief ! " she 
 said, " and, as for you, it's the wisest thing you 
 ever did. It's me, after all, who is making the 
 sacrifice, for, in a month or two, all the gilt will 
 wear off, and you will see me as I really am. 
 You will find it very disillusioning to go to sea 
 with your divinity," she added. " You will 
 discover she is a very flesh-and-blood affair, 
 after all, Frank, and not worth the tip of your 
 little finger." 
 
 " I had a good many opportunities of judging 
 before," he replied, " and the more I knew her 
 the more I loved her." 
 
 " Well, I am changed now," she said. " I 
 suppose all the bad has come to the surface since 
 like the slag when they melt iron and skim 
 it off with dippers only with me there's nobody 
 
 [39] 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 to dip. If / am astounded at the difference, 
 what do you suppose you'll be? " 
 
 " There never could be any difference to me," 
 he said. 
 
 " That's the only kind of love worth talking 
 about," she said, going to the window and look- 
 ing out. 
 
 For a while neither of them spoke. Frank 
 rose and stood with his hat in his hand, waiting 
 to take his departure. Florence turned, and 
 going to an escritoire sat down and wrote a few 
 lines on a card. 
 
 " Present this to Captain Landry," she said, 
 " and, now, my dear chief engineer, I will give 
 you your congt" 
 
 He thanked her, and put the card carefully in 
 his pocketbook. 
 
 " What a farce it all is, Frank! " she broke 
 out. " There's something wrong in a system 
 that gives a girl millions of dollars to do just 
 as she likes with. I don't care what they say to 
 
 [40] 
 
THE CHIEF ENGINEER 
 
 the contrary; I believe women were meant to 
 belong to men, to live in semi-slavery and do 
 what they are told, to bring up children and 
 travel with the pots and pans, and find their 
 only reward in pleasing their husbands." 
 
 " I wouldn't care to pass an opinion," said 
 Frank. " Some of them are happy that way, 
 no doubt." 
 
 u What does anybody want except to be 
 happy?" she continued, in the same strain of 
 resentment. " Isn't that what all are trying 
 for as hard as they can? I'd like to go out in 
 the street and stop people as they came along 
 and ask them, the one after the other: * Would 
 you tell me if you are happy? ' And the one 
 that said ' yes ' I'd give a hundred dollars 
 to I " 
 
 " As like as not it would be some shabby fel- 
 low with no overcoat," said Frank. 
 
 " Now you can go away ! " she exclaimed sud- 
 denly. " I don't know what's the matter with 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 me, Frank. I think I'm going to cry ! Go, go ! " 
 she cried imperiously, as he still stood there. 
 
 Frank bowed and obeyed, and his last 
 glimpse, as he closed the door, was of her at 
 the window, looking down disconsolately into 
 the street below. 
 
 Ill 
 
 Spring was well begun when the Minnehaha 
 sailed for F,urope to take her place in the 
 mimic fleets that were already assembling. As 
 like seeks like, so the long, swift white 
 steamer headed like a bird for her far- 
 away companions, and arrived amongst them 
 with colours flying, and her guns roaring 
 out salutes. By herself she was greedy for every 
 pound of steam and raced her engines as though 
 speed were a matter of life and death; but, once 
 in company, she was content to lag with the 
 slowest, and suit her own pace to the stately 
 progress of the schooners and cutters that moved 
 
 [42] 
 
THE CHIEF ENGINEER 
 
 by the wind alone. She found friends amongst 
 all nations, and, in that cosmopolitan society of 
 ships, dipped her flag to those of England, 
 France, Holland, Belgium, and Germany. 
 
 It was a wonderful life of freedom and 
 gaiety. A great yacht carries her own letter of 
 introduction, and is accorded everywhere the 
 courtesies of a man-of-war, to whom, in a sense, 
 she is a sister. Official visits are paid and re- 
 turned; naval punctilio reigns; invitations are 
 lavished from every side. There is, besides, a 
 freemasonry amongst those splendid wanderers 
 of the sea, a transcendent Bohemianism, that 
 puts them nearly all upon a common footing. A 
 holiday spirit is in the air, and kings and princes 
 who at home are hidden within walls of triple 
 brass, here unbend like children out of school, 
 and make friends and gossip about their neigh- 
 bours and show off their engine-rooms and their 
 ice plant and some new idea in patent boat davits 
 after the manner of very ordinary mortals. 
 [43] 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 Not of course that kings and princes predom- 
 inate, but the same spirit prevailed with those 
 who on shore held their heads very high and 
 practised a jealous exclusiveness. Amongst 
 them all Florence Fenacre was a favourite of 
 favourites. Young, beautiful, and the mistress 
 of a noble fortune, there was everything to cast 
 a glamour about this charming American who 
 had come out of the unknown to take all hearts 
 by storm. 
 
 Her haziness about distinctions of rank filled 
 these Europeans with an amused amazement. 
 There was to them something quite royal in her 
 naivety and lack of awe; in her high spirit, her 
 vivacity, and her absolute disregard of those who 
 failed to please her. She convulsed one per- 
 sonage by describing another as " that tiresome 
 old man who's really too disreputable to have 
 tagging around me any longer "; and had a 
 quarrel and a making up with a reigning duke 
 about a lighter of coal that their respective crews 
 [44] 
 
THE CHIEF ENGINEER 
 
 had come to blows over. Everybody adored 
 her, and she seldom put to sea without a love- 
 sick yacht in her wake. 
 
 Of course, here as elsewhere, every phase of 
 human character was displayed, and most con- 
 spicuous of all amongst the evil was the deter- 
 mination of many to win Florence's millions 
 for themselves. Amid that noble concourse of 
 vessels, every one of which stood for a princely 
 income, there were adventurers as needy and as 
 hungry as any sharper in the streets of New 
 York. There is an aristocratic poverty, none 
 the less real because three noughts must be added 
 to all the figures, that first surprised and then 
 disgusted the pretty American. Her first 
 awakening to the fact was when, as a special fa- 
 vour, she sold her best steam launch to a French 
 marquise at the price it had cost her. Though 
 that lady was very profuse with little pink notes 
 and could purr over Florence by the hour, her 
 signature on a cheque was never forthcoming, 
 
 [45] 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 and our heroine had a fit of fury to think of 
 having been so deceived. 
 
 " It was a downright confidence trick," she 
 burst out to the comte de Souvary, firing up 
 afresh with the memory of her wrongs. " I 
 loved my launch. It was a beauty. It never 
 went dotty at the time you needed it most and it 
 was a vertical inverted triple-expansion direct- 
 acting propeller ! ' (Florence could always rattle 
 off technical details and showed her Americanism 
 in her catalogue-like fluency in this respect.) 
 " And I miss it and I want it back, and the 
 horrid old woman never means to pay me a 
 penny ! " 
 
 " Oh, my child ! " said the count, " she never 
 pays anybody ze penny. She is a stone from 
 which one looks in vain for blood. Your launch 
 is what do you call it in ze Far Vest a 
 goner ! " 
 
 " But she's descended from Charlemagne," 
 cried Florence. " She has the entree to all the 
 
 [46] 
 
THE CHIEF ENGINEER 
 
 courts. She ought to be exposed for stealing 
 my boat!" 
 
 " What does anybody do when he is robbed? " 
 said the count philosophically. He could afford 
 to be philosophical: it wasn't his vertical in- 
 verted triple-expansion direct-acting propeller. 
 " Smile and be more careful ze next time," 
 he went on. " The marquise's reputation is in- 
 ternational for what is charitably called her 
 eccentricity." 
 
 " In America they put people in jail for 
 that kind of eccentricity!" exclaimed Flor- 
 ence. 
 
 " Oh, the best way in Europe is money-with- 
 order," said the count, " what I remember once 
 a friend seeing in that great country of which 
 you are ze ornament in God we trust: all 
 others cash ! " 
 
 " Well, it's a shame," said Florence, " and if 
 I ever get the chance of a dark night I'll ram her 
 with the Minnehaha! " 
 
 [47] 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 Florence's mother, a dear little old lady who 
 did tatting and read the Christian Herald, was 
 always the particular target of the fortune- 
 hunters who pursued her daughter. It seemed 
 such a brilliant idea to capture the mother first 
 as the preparatory step of getting into the good 
 graces of the heiress; and the old lady, who was 
 one of the most guileless of her sex, never 
 failed to fall into the trap and take the atten- 
 tions all in earnest. Comte de Souvary used to 
 say that if you wished to find the wickedest men 
 in Europe you had only to cast your eyes in the 
 direction of Florence's mother; and she would 
 be trotted off to church and driven in automo- 
 biles and lunched in casinos by the most noto- 
 rious and unprincipled scapegraces of the Old 
 World. 
 
 Florence, who, like all heiresses, had devel- 
 oped a positive instinct for the men who meant 
 her mischief, was always delighted at the re- 
 peated captures of the old lady; and it was an 
 
 [48] 
 
THE CHIEF ENGINEER 
 
 endless entertainment to her when her mother 
 was induced to champion the cause of some 
 aristocratic ne'er-do-well. 
 
 " But, Mamma," she would say, " I hate to 
 call your friends names, but really he's a perfect 
 scamp, and underneath all his fine manners he 
 is no better than a wolf ravening for rich young 
 lambs!" 
 
 " Oh, Florence, how can you be so uncharita- 
 ble ! " her mother would retort. "If you could 
 only hear the way he speaks of his mother and 
 his ruined life, and how he is trying to be a 
 better man for your sake " 
 
 " Always the same old story," said Florence. 
 " It's wonderful the good I do just sailing 
 around and radiating moral influence. The 
 count says I ought to get a medal from the 
 government with my profile on one side and a 
 composite picture of my admirers on the other! 
 And if I do, Mamsey, I'll give it to you to 
 keep!" 
 
 [49] 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 Frank Rignold was sometimes tempted to 
 curse the day that had ever brought him aboard 
 the Minnehaha. To be a silent spectator of gai- 
 eties and festivities he could not share; to be 
 condemned to stand aloof while he saw the 
 woman he loved petted and sought after by men 
 of exalted position what could be imagined 
 more detestable to a lover without hope, without 
 the shadow of a claim, with nothing to look for- 
 ward to except the inevitable day when a luckier 
 fellow would carry her off before his eyes. He 
 moped in secret and often spent hours locked in 
 his cabin, sitting with his face in his hands, a 
 prey to the bitterest melancholy and dejection. 
 In public, however, he always bore himself un- 
 flinchingly, and was too proud a man and too 
 innately a gentleman to allow his face to be read 
 even by her. It was incumbent on him, so long 
 as he drew her pay and wore her uniform, to act 
 in all respects the part he was cast to play; and 
 no one could have guessed, except perhaps the 
 [So] 
 
THE CHIEF ENGINEER 
 
 girl herself, that he had any other thought save 
 to do his duty cheerfully and well. 
 
 Captain Landry sat in the saloon at the 
 bottom of the table, Florence herself taking the 
 head; but the other officers of the ship had a 
 cosey messroom of their own, presided over by 
 Frank Rignold as the officer second in rank on 
 board. Thus whole days might pass with no 
 further exchange between himself and Florence 
 than the customary good-morning when they 
 happened to meet on deck. Except on the busi- 
 ness of the ship it was tacitly understood that 
 no officer should speak to her without being first 
 addressed. The discipline of a man-of-war pre- 
 vailed; everything went forward with ster- 
 eotyped precision and formality; the officers 
 were supposed to comport themselves with im- 
 passivity and self-effacement. Florence had no 
 more need of being conscious of their presence 
 than if they had been so many automatons. 
 
 Her life and theirs offered a strange contrast. 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 She in her little court of idlers and merry- 
 makers; they, the grave men who were answer- 
 able for her safety, the exponents of a rigid 
 routine, to whom the clang of the bells brought 
 recurring duties and the exercise of their pro- 
 fessional knowledge. To her, yachting was a 
 play: to them, a business. 
 
 " I often remark your chief engineer," said 
 the comte de Souvary to Florence. " A hand- 
 some man, with an air at once sad and noble 
 one of zoze extraordinary Americans who keep 
 for their machines the ardour we Europeans lav- 
 ish on the women we love and whose spirits 
 when zey die turn without doubt into petrole or 
 electricity." 
 
 " I have known Mr. Rignold ever since I was 
 a child," said Florence, pleased to hear Frank 
 praised. " I regard him as one of my best and 
 dearest friends." 
 
 " The more to his credit," said the count, 
 astonished. " Many in such a gaUre would 
 
THE CHIEF ENGINEER 
 
 prove themselves presumptuous and trouble- 
 
 some." 
 
 " He is almost too much the other way," said 
 Florence, with a sigh. 
 
 " Ah, that appeals to me ! " said the count. 
 " I should be such anozzer in his place. Proud, 
 silent, unobtrusive, who gives dignity to what 
 otherwise would be a false position." 
 
 " I came very near being his wife once," said 
 Florence, impelled, she hardly knew why, to 
 make the confession. 
 
 The count was thunderstruck. 
 
 " His wife ! " he exclaimed. 
 
 " Before I was rich, you know," explained 
 Florence. " A million years ago it seems 
 now, when I lived in a little town and was a 
 nobody." 
 
 " Anozzer romance of the Far Vest ! " cried 
 the count, to whom this term embraced 
 the entire continent from Maine to San Fran- 
 cisco. 
 
 [53] 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 Florence was curiously capricious in her treat- 
 ment of Frank Rignold. Often she would 
 neglect him for weeks together, and then, in a 
 sort of revulsion, would go almost to the other 
 extreme. Sometimes at night, when he would 
 be pacing the deck, she would come and take his 
 arm and call him Frank under her breath and 
 ask him if he still loved her; and in a manner 
 half tender, half mocking, would play on his 
 feelings with a deliberate enjoyment of the pain 
 she inflicted. Her greatest power of torment 
 was her frankness. She would talk over her 
 proposals; weigh one against the other; revel 
 in her self-analysis and solemnly ask Frank his 
 opinion on this or that part of her character. 
 She talked with equal freedom of her regard 
 for himself, and was almost brutal in confessing 
 how hard it was to hold herself back. 
 
 " I think I must be awfully wicked, Frank," 
 she sai-d to him once. " I love you so dearly, 
 and yet I wouldn't marry you for anything ! " 
 
 [54] 
 
THE CHIEF ENGINEER 
 
 And then she ran on as to whether she ought to 
 take Souvary and live in Paris or Lord Comyngs 
 and choose London. " It's so hard to decide," 
 she said, " and it's so important, because one 
 couldn't change one's mind afterwards." 
 
 " Not very well," said Frank. 
 
 ' You mustn't grind your teeth so loud," she 
 said. " It's compromising." 
 
 " I wish you would talk about something else 
 or go away," he said, goaded out of his usual 
 politeness. 
 
 " Oh, I love my little stolen tte-ti-tttes with 
 you ! " she exclaimed. " All those other men are 
 used up, emotionally speaking. The count 
 would turn a neat phrase even if he were to blow 
 his brains out the next minute. They think they 
 are splendidly cool, but it only means that they 
 have exhausted all their powers of sensation. 
 You are delightfully primitive and unspoiled, 
 and then I suppose it is natural to like a fellow- 
 countryman best, isn't it? Now, honest have 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 you found any girls over here you like as well as 
 me?" 
 
 " I haven't tried to find any," said Frank. 
 
 "You aren't a bit disillusioned, are you?" 
 she said. " You simply shut your eyes and go 
 it blind. A woman likes that in a man. It's 
 what love ought to be. It's silly of me to throw 
 it away." 
 
 " Perhaps it is, Florence," he said. " Who 
 knows but what some day you may regret it? " 
 
 " I often think of that," she returned. " I 
 am afraid all the good part of me loves you, and 
 all the bad loves the counts and dukes and earls, 
 you know. And the good is almost drowned 
 in all the rest, like vegetables in vegetable soup." 
 
 She excelled in giving such little dampers to 
 sentiment, and laughed heartily at Frank's dis- 
 comfiture. 
 
 " You can be awfully cruel," he said. " I 
 wonder you can be so beautiful when you can 
 think such things and say them. You treat 
 [56] 
 
THE CHIEF ENGINEER 
 
 hearts like toys and laugh when you break 
 them." 
 
 " Well, there's one thing, Frank," she said 
 seriously. " I have never pretended to you or 
 tried to appear better than I am; and you are 
 the only man I can say that to and not lie ! " 
 
 IV 
 
 The comte de Souvary, towards whom Flor- 
 ence betrayed an inclination that seemed at times 
 to deserve a warmer word, was a French gentle- 
 man nearing forty. He was a man of distin- 
 guished appearance, with all the gaiety, grace, 
 and charm that, in spite our popular impression 
 to the contrary, are not seldom found amongst 
 the nobles of his country. His undoubted wealth 
 and position redeemed his suit from any appear- 
 ance of being inspired by a mercenary motive. 
 Indeed, he was accustomed himself to be pur- 
 sued, and Florence and he recognised in each 
 other a fellowship of persecution. 
 
 [57] 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 " We are ze Pale Faces," he would say, " and 
 ze ozzers zey are Indians closing in from every 
 corner of ze Far Vest for our scalps ! " 
 
 He was, in many ways, the most accomplished 
 man that Florence had ever known. He was a 
 violinist, a singer, a poet, and yet these were but 
 a part of his various gifts; for in everything out 
 of doors he was no less a master and took the 
 first place as though by right. He was the em- 
 bodiment of everything daring and manly; it 
 seemed natural for him to excel; he simply did 
 not know what fear was. He was always ready 
 to smile and turn a little joke, whether speeding 
 in his automobile at a breakneck pace or balloon- 
 ing above the clouds in search of what was to him 
 the breath of life: " ze sensation." He could 
 never see a new form of " ze sensation " without 
 running for it like a child for a new toy. His 
 whole attitude towards the world was that of a 
 furious curiosity. He could not bear to leave it, 
 he said, until all he had learned how all the 
 
 [58] 
 
THE CHIEF ENGINEER 
 wheels went round. He had stood on the Mat- 
 terhorn. He had driven the Sud express. He 
 had exhausted lions and tigers. In moods of 
 depression he would threaten to follow Andrde 
 to the pole and figure out his plans on the back 
 of an envelope. 
 
 " Magnificent! " he would cry, growing in- 
 stantly cheerful at the prospect. " Tfiink of ze 
 sensation ! " 
 
 He spoke English fluently, though shaky on 
 the th and the w, and it was first hand and not 
 mentally translated. His pronunciation of Far 
 West, two words that were constantly on his 
 lips, was an endless entertainment to Florence, 
 and out of a sense of humour she forebore 
 to correct him. It was typical, indeed, of 
 his ignorance of everything American. Europe 
 was at his fingers' ends ; there was not a country 
 in it he was not familiar with ; intimately famil- 
 iar, knowing much of what went on behind the 
 scenes, and the lives and characters of the men, 
 
 [59] 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 and not less the women, who shaped national 
 policies and held the steering-wheels of state. 
 
 " Muravief would never do that," he would 
 say. " He is constitutionally inert, and his im- 
 agination has carried him through too many un- 
 fought wars for him to throw down the gage 
 now. He smokes cigarettes and dreams of end- 
 less peace. I had many talks with him last year 
 and found him impatient of any subject but the 
 redemption of the paper rouble ! " 
 
 But his mind had never crossed the Atlantic 
 Ocean. He still thought that the Civil War 
 had been between North and South America. 
 To him the United States was a vague region 
 peopled with miners, pork-packers, and Indians ; 
 a jumble of factories, forests, and red-shirted 
 men digging for gold, all of it fantastically seen 
 through the medium of Buffalo Bill's show. It 
 was a constant wonder to him that such condi- 
 tions had been able to produce a woman like 
 Florence Fenacre. 
 
 [60] 
 
THE CHIEF ENGINEER 
 
 " You are the flower of ze prairie," he would 
 say, " an atavism of type, harking back a dozen 
 generations to aristocratic progenitors, having 
 nothing in common with the Pathfinder your 
 Papal" 
 
 " He wasn't a pathfinder," said Florence, 
 " he was a whaler captain." 
 
 But this to the count seemed only the more 
 remarkable. He raised the fabric of a fresh 
 romance on the instant, especially (on Florence 
 telling him more about her forebears) when he 
 began to mix up the Pilgrim Fathers, the Revo- 
 lutionary War, and the Alabama in one brisk 
 panorama of his ever dear " Far Vest " I 
 
 Florence's acquaintance with the comte de 
 Souvary went back to Majorca, where, in the 
 course of one of those sudden blows, so common 
 on the Mediterranean, their respective yachts 
 had fled for shelter. His own was a large auxil- 
 iary schooner called the Paquita, a lofty, showy 
 vessel which he sailed himself with his usual 
 [61] 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 courage and audacity. He had the reputation of 
 scaring his unhappy guests when any were bold 
 enough to accept his invitations to within the 
 proverbial inch of their lives; and they usually 
 changed " ze sensation " for the nearest mail- 
 boat home. Florence and he had struck up a 
 warm friendship from the start, and for the 
 whole summer their vessels were inseparable, 
 sailing everywhere in company and anchoring 
 side by side. 
 
 The count had a way of courtship peculiarly 
 his own. He made it apparent from the first 
 how deeply he had been stirred by Florence's 
 beauty and how ready he was to offer her his 
 hand; but as a matter of fact he never did so in 
 set terms, and treated her more as a comrade 
 than a divinity. He talked of his own devo- 
 tion to her as something detached and im- 
 personal, willing as much as she to laugh over 
 it and treat it lightly. He was never jealous, 
 never exacting, and seemed to be as happy to 
 
 [62] 
 
THE CHIEF ENGINEER 
 
 share her with others as when he had her all 
 alone in one of their tete-ti-tetes. What he 
 coveted most of all was her intimacy, her con- 
 fidence, the frank expression of her own true 
 self; and in this exchange he was willing to give 
 as much as he received and often more. Some- 
 times she was piqued at his apparent indifference 
 at his lack of any stronger feeling for her 
 seeming to detect in him something of her own 
 insouciance and coldness. 
 
 " You really don't care for me a bit," she said 
 once. " I am only another form of ' ze sensa- 
 tion ' like going up in a balloon or riding on 
 the cow-catcher." 
 
 " I keep myself well in hand," he returned. 
 " I am not approaching the terrible age of forty 
 without knowing a little at least about women 
 and their ways." 
 
 " A little ! " she exclaimed ironically. " You 
 know enough to write a book ! " 
 
 " Zat book has taught me to go very slow," 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 he said. :( Were I in my young manhood I'd 
 come zoop, like that, and carry you off in ze Far 
 Vest style. But I can never hope to be that 
 again with any woman ; my decreasing hair for- 
 bids, if nozing else but my way is to make 
 myself indispensable ze old dog, ze old stand- 
 by, as you Americans say the good old harbour 
 to which you will come at last when tired of ze 
 storms outside ! " 
 
 " Your humility is a new trait," said Florence. 
 
 " It's none ze less real because it is often hid," 
 said the count. " I watch you very closely, 
 more closely than perhaps you even think. You 
 have all the heartlessness of youth and health 
 and beauty. I would be wrong to put my one 
 little piece of money on the table and lose all; 
 and so I save and save, and play ze only game 
 that offers me the least chance ze waiting 
 game ! " 
 
 " I believe that's true," said Florence. 
 
 " Were I to act ze distracted lover, you would 
 
THE CHIEF ENGINEER 
 
 laugh in my face," he went on earnestly. 
 " Were I to propose and be refused, my pride 
 would not let me my instinct as gentleman 
 would not let me go trailing after you with my 
 long face. The idyll would be over. I would 
 go!" 
 
 " There are times when I think a heap of 
 you," said Florence encouragingly. 
 
 " Oh, I know so well how it would be," he 
 continued. "A week of doubt of fever; a 
 rain of little notes; and then with your good 
 clear honest Far Vest sense you would say : No, 
 mon cher, it is eempossible ! " 
 
 1 Yes, I suppose I would," said Florence. 
 
 " I would rather be your friend all my life," 
 said the count, " than to be merely one of the 
 rejected. I have no ambition to place my 
 name on that already great list. I have never 
 yet asked a woman to marry me, and when 
 I do I care not for the expectation of being 
 refused!" 
 
 [65] 
 
L O V E THE FIDDLER 
 
 " You are like all Europeans," said Florence, 
 " you believe in a sure thing." 
 
 " My heart is not on my sleeve," he returned, 
 " and I value it too highly to lose it without 
 compensation." 
 
 " It is interesting to hear all your views," said 
 Florence. " I am sure I appreciate the compli- 
 ment highly. It's a new idea, this of the wolf 
 making a confidant of the lamb." 
 
 " Oh, my dear ! " he broke out, " I am only a 
 poor devil holding back from committing a great 
 stupidity." 
 
 " Is that how you describe marrying me?" 
 she said lightly. 
 
 " Ze day will come," he said, disregarding 
 her question, " I think it will I hope it will 
 when you will say to me : My dear fellow, I am 
 tired of all this fictitious gaiety; of all this rush 
 and bustle and flirtation; of this life of fever 
 and emptiness. I long for peace and do not 
 know where to find it. I am like a piece of 
 [66] 
 
THE CHIEF ENGINEER 
 
 music to whom one waits in vain for the return 
 to the keynote. Tell me where to find it or else 
 I die!" 
 
 " Rather forward of me to say all that, 
 Count," observed the girl. " But suppose I did 
 what then?" 
 
 The count opened wide his arms. 
 
 " I would answer: here ! " he said. 
 
 V 
 
 Thus the bright days passed, amid animating 
 scenes, with memories of sky and cloud and noble 
 headlands and stately, beautiful ships. Like 
 two ocean sweethearts the Minnehaha and the 
 Pa quit a took their restless way together, side by 
 side in port, inseparable at sea. At night the 
 one lit the other's road with a string of ruby 
 lanterns and kept the pair in company across the 
 dark and silent water. Their respective crews, 
 not behindhand in this splendid camaraderie of 
 ships, fraternised in wine-shops and strolled 
 [67] 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 through the crooked foreign streets arm in arm. 
 Breton and American, red cap and blue, sixty of 
 the one and eighty of the other they were 
 brothers all and cemented their friendship in 
 blood and gunpowder, in tattooed names, flags 
 and mottoes, after the time-honoured and artless 
 manner of the sea. 
 
 In the drama of life it is often the least im- 
 portant actors who are happiest, and the stars 
 themselves are not always to be the most envied. 
 Florence, torn between her ambition and her 
 love, knew what it was to toss all night on her 
 sleepless bed and wet the pillow with her tears. 
 De Souvary, who found himself every day deeper 
 in the toils of his ravishing American, chafed 
 and struggled with unavailing pangs; and as for 
 Frank Rignold, he endured long periods of 
 black depression as he watched from afar the 
 steady progress of his rival's suit; and his moody 
 face grew moodier and exasperation rose within 
 him to the rebellion point. 
 [68] 
 
THE CHIEF ENGINEER 
 By September the two yachts were lying in 
 Cowes, and already there was some talk of win- 
 ter plans and a possible voyage to India. The 
 count was enthusiastic about the project, as he 
 was about anything that could keep him and 
 Florence together, and he had ordered a stack 
 of books and spent hours at a time with the mis- 
 tress of the Minnehaha reading over Indian 
 Ocean directories and plotting imaginary courses 
 on the chart. 
 
 With the prospect of so extended a trip 
 before him, Frank found much to be done in 
 the engine-room, for their suggested cruise 
 would be likely to carry them far out of the 
 beaten track, and he had to be prepared for all 
 contingencies. A marine engine requires to be 
 perpetually tinkered, and an engineer's duty is 
 not only to run it, but to make good the little 
 defects and breakdowns that are constantly oc- 
 curring. Frank was a- daily visitor at the local 
 machine-shop, and his business engagements 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 with Mr. Derwent, the proprietor, led insensibly 
 to others of the social kind. 
 
 Derwent's house was close by his works, and 
 Frank's trips ashore soon began to take in both. 
 Derwent had a daughter, a black-haired, black- 
 eyed, pink-cheeked girl, named Cassie, one of 
 those vigorous young English beauties that men 
 would call stunning and women bold. She did 
 not wait for any preliminaries, but straightway 
 fell in love with the handsome American engi- 
 neer that her father brought home. She made 
 her regard so plain that Frank was embarrassed, 
 and was not a bit put off at his reluctance to play 
 the part she assigned to him. 
 
 " That's always my luck," she remarked with 
 disarming candour, " a poor silly fool who 
 always likes them that don't like me and spurns 
 them that do ! " And then she added, with a 
 laugh, that he ought to be tied up, " for you are 
 a cruel handsome man, Frank, and my heart goes 
 pitapat at the very sight of you ! " 
 
 [70] 
 
THE CHIEF ENGINEER 
 
 She called him Frank at the second visit ; and 
 at the third seated herself on the arm of his 
 chair and took his hand and held it. 
 
 " Can't you ever forget that girl in Yankee- 
 land? " she said. " She aint here, is she, and 
 why shouldn't you steal a little harmless fun? 
 There's men who'd give their little finger to win 
 a kiss from me and you sit there so glum and 
 solemn, who could have a bushel for the 
 asking!" 
 
 For all Frank's devotion to Florence he could 
 not but be flattered at being wooed in this head- 
 long fashion. He was only a man after all, and 
 she was the prettiest girl in port. He did not 
 resist when she suddenly put her arms around 
 him and pressed his head against her bosom, 
 calling him her boy and her darling; but re- 
 mained passive in her embrace, pleased and yet 
 ashamed, and touched to the quick with self- 
 contempt. 
 
 "You mustn't," he said, freeing himself. 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 " Cassie, it's wrong it's dreadful. You 
 mustn't think I love you, because I don't." 
 
 * Yes, but I am going to make you," she 
 said with splendid effrontery, looking at her- 
 self in the glass and patting her rumpled 
 hair. " See what you have done to me, you 
 bad boy!" 
 
 Had she been older or more sophisticated, 
 Frank would have been shocked at this reversal 
 of the sexes. But in her self-avowed and un- 
 ashamed love for him she was more like a 
 child than a woman; and her good-humour and 
 laughter besides seemed somehow to belittle her 
 words and redeem the affair from any serious- 
 ness. Frank tried to stay away, for his con- 
 science pricked him and he did not care to drift 
 into such an unusual and ambiguous relation 
 with Derwent's handsome daughter. But 
 Cassie was always on the watch for him and he 
 could not escape from the machine-works with- 
 out falling into one of her ambushes. She would 
 
 [72] 
 
THE CHIEF ENGINEER 
 
 carry him off to tea, and he never left without 
 finding himself pledged to return in the evening. 
 In his loneliness, hopelessness, and desolation he 
 found it dangerously sweet to be thus petted 
 and sought after. Cassie made no demands of 
 him and acquiesced with apparent cheerfulness 
 in the implication that he loved another woman. 
 She humbly accepted the little that was left over, 
 and, though she wept many hot tears in secret, 
 outwardly at least she never rebelled or re- 
 proached him. She knew that to do either 
 would be to lose him. In fact she made it very 
 easy for him to come, and gave up her girlish 
 treasure of affection without any hope of reward. 
 Frank, by degrees, discovered a wonderful com- 
 fort in being with her. It was balm to his 
 wounds and bruises; and, like someone who had 
 long been out in the cold, he warmed himself, 
 so to speak, before that bright fire, and found 
 himself growing drowsy and contented. 
 
 It must not be supposed that all this went on 
 
 [73] 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 unremarked, or that in the gossip of the yacht 
 Frank and Cassie Derwent did not come in for 
 a considerable share of attention. It passed 
 from the officers' mess to the saloon, and Flor- 
 ence bit her lip with anger and jealousy when the 
 joke went round of the chief engineer's " infatua- 
 tion." In revenge she treated Frank more 
 coldly than ever, and went out of her way to be 
 agreeable to de Souvary, especially when the 
 former was at hand and could be made a 
 spectator of her lover-like glances and a warmth 
 that seemed to transcend the limits of ordinary 
 friendship. She made herself utterly unhappy 
 and Frank as well. The only one of the trio 
 to be pleased was the count. 
 
 She made no objection when Frank asked her 
 permission to show the ship to Derwent and his 
 daughter. 
 
 4 You must be sure and introduce me," she 
 said, with a sparkle of her eyes that Frank was 
 too unpresumptuous to understand. " They say 
 
 [74] 
 
THE CHIEF ENGINEER 
 
 that she is a raving little beauty and that you are 
 the happy man ! " 
 
 Frank hurriedly disclaimed the honour. 
 
 " Oh, no ! " he said. " But she is really very 
 sweet and nice, and I think we owe a little atten- 
 tion to her father." 
 
 "Oh, her father!" said Florence, sarcastically 
 emphasising the word. 
 
 " I hope you don't think there is anything in 
 it," he exclaimed very anxiously. " I suppose 
 there has been some tittle-tattle I can read it 
 in your face but there's not a word of truth in 
 it, not a word, I assure you." 
 
 " I don't care the one way or other, Frank," 
 she said. "You needn't explain so hard. What 
 does it matter to me, anyway?" and with that 
 she turned away to cordially greet the count as 
 he came aboard. 
 
 The two women met in the saloon. Florence 
 at once assumed the great lady, the heiress, the 
 condescending patrician; Cassie flushed and 
 
 [75] 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 trembled; and in a buzz of commonplaces the 
 stewards served tea while the two women 
 covertly took each other's measure. Florence 
 grew ashamed of her own behaviour, and, un- 
 bending a little, tried to put her guests at ease 
 and led Cassie on to talk. Then it came out 
 about the dance that Derwent and his daughter 
 were to give the following night. 
 
 " Frank and me have been arranging the 
 cotillon," said Cassie, and then she turned pink 
 to her ears at having called him by his first 
 name before all those people. " I mean Mr. 
 Rignold," she added, amid everyone's laughter 
 and her own desperate confusion. Florence's 
 laughter rang out as gaily as anyone's, and ap- 
 parently as unaffectedly, and she rallied Cassie 
 with much good humour on her slip. 
 
 "So it's Frank already!" she exclaimed. 
 " Oh, Miss Derwent ! don't you trust this 
 wicked chief of mine. He is a regular heart' 
 breaker!" 
 
THE CHIEF ENGINEER 
 
 Cassie cried when Frank and she returned 
 home and sat together on the porch. 
 
 " She's a proud, haughty minx," she burst out, 
 " and you love her and as for me I might as 
 well drown myself." 
 
 Frank attempted to comfort her. 
 
 " Oh, you needn't try to blind me," she said 
 bitterly. " I I thought it was a girl in 
 America, Frank, a. girl like me just common 
 and poor and perhaps not as nice as I am. And 
 you know she wouldn't wipe her feet on you," 
 she went on viciously " she so grand with her 
 yachts and her counts and ' Oh, I think I'll run 
 over to Injya for the winter, or maybe it's 
 Cairo or the Nile,' says she ! What kind of a 
 chance have you got there, Frank, you in your 
 greasy over-alls and working for her wages? 
 Won't you break your heart just like I am 
 breaking mine, I that would sell the clothes off 
 my back for you and follow you all over the 
 world!" 
 
 [77] 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 Frank protested that she was mistaken ; that it 
 wasn't Miss Fenacre at all; that it was absurd 
 to even think of such a thing. 
 
 " Oh, Frank, it's bad enough as it is without 
 your lying to me," she said, quite unconvinced. 
 " You've set your eyes too high, and unhappiness 
 is all that you'll ever get from the likes of her. 
 You're a fool in your way and I'm a fool in mine, 
 and maybe when she's married to the count and 
 done for, you'll mind the little girl that's waiting 
 for you in Cowes ! " She took his hand and 
 kissed it, telling him with a sob that she would 
 ever remain single for his sake. 
 
 " But I don't want you to, Cassie," he 
 said. " You're talking like a baby. What's 
 the good of waiting when I am never coming 
 back?" 
 
 " You say that now," she exclaimed, " but my 
 words will come back to you in Injya when you 
 grow tired of her ladyship's coldness and dis- 
 dain; and I'm silly enough to think you'll find 
 
 [78] 
 
THE CHIEF ENGINEER 
 
 them a comfort to you out there, with nothing 
 to do but to think and think and be miserable." 
 
 VI 
 
 The next day he found Cassie in a more cheer- 
 ful humour and excited about the dance. The 
 house was all upset and she was busy with a 
 dozen of her girl friends in decorating the hall 
 and drawing-room, taking up the carpets, ar- 
 ranging for the supper and the cloakrooms, and 
 immersed generally in the thousand and one 
 tasks that fall on a hostess-to-be. Frank put 
 himself at her orders and spent the better part of 
 the afternoon in running errands and tacking up 
 flags and branches; and after an hilarious tea, 
 in the midst of all the litter and confusion, he 
 went back to the ship somewhat after five 
 o'clock. As he was pulled out in a shore boat 
 he was surprised to pass a couple of coal 
 lighters coming from the Minnehaha, and to see 
 her winches busily hoisting in stores from a 
 
 [79] 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 large launch alongside. He ran up the ladder, 
 and seeing the captain asked him what was up. 
 
 " Sailing orders, Chief," said Captain Landry, 
 enjoying his amazement. " We'll be off the 
 ground in half an hour, eastward bound ! " 
 
 " But I wasn't told anything," cried Frank. 
 " I never got any orders." 
 
 " The little lady said you wasn't to be dis- 
 turbed," said the captain, " and she took it on 
 herself to order your staff to go ahead. I guess 
 you'll find a pretty good head of steam 
 already!" 
 
 Frank ran to the side and called back his boat, 
 giving the man five shillings to take a note at 
 once to Cassie. He had no time for more than 
 a few lines, but he could not go to sea without 
 at least one word of farewell. They were cat- 
 ting the anchor and were already under steerage 
 way when Cassie came off herself in a launch and 
 passed up a letter directed to the chief engineer. 
 It reached him in the engine-room, where he, 
 
 [so] 
 
THE CHIEF ENGINEER 
 
 not knowing that she was but a few feet distant, 
 was spared the sight of her pale and despairing 
 face. 
 
 The letter itself was almost incoherent. She 
 knew, she said, whom she had to thank for his 
 departure. That vixen, that hussy, that stuck- 
 up minx, who treated him like a dog and yet 
 grudged him to another, who, God help her, 
 loved him too well for her own good it was 
 her ladyship she had to thank for spoiling every- 
 thing and carrying him away. Was he not man 
 enough to assert himself and leave a ship where 
 he was put upon so awful? Let him ask her 
 mightiness in two words, yes or no; and then 
 when he had come down from the clouds and 
 had learned the truth, poor silly fool then let 
 him come back to his Cassie, who loved him so 
 dear, and who (if she did say it herself) had a 
 heart worth fifty of his mistress and didn't need 
 no powder to set off her complexion. It ended 
 with a piteous appeal to his compassion and be- 
 [81] 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 sought him to write to her from the nearest 
 port. 
 
 Frank sighed as he read it. Everything in 
 the world seemed wrong and at cross-purposes. 
 Those who had one thing invariably longed for 
 something else, and there was no content or 
 happiness or satisfaction anywhere. The better 
 off were the acquiescent, who took the good and 
 the bad with the same composure and found 
 their only pleasure in their work. Best off of 
 all were the dead whose sufferings were over. 
 But after all it was sweet to be loved, even if one 
 did not love back, and Frank was very tender 
 with the little letter and put it carefully in his 
 pocket-book. Yes, it was sweet to be loved. 
 He said this over and over to himself, and 
 wondered whether Florence felt the same to 
 him as he did to Cassie. It seemed to explain 
 so much. It seemed the key to her strange 
 regard for him. He asked himself whether it 
 could be true that she had wilfully ordered the 
 
THE CHIEF ENGINEER 
 
 ship to sea in order to prevent him going to the 
 dance. The thought stirred him inexpressibly. 
 What other explanation was there if this was 
 not the one? And she had deserted the count, 
 who was away in London on a day's business; 
 deserted the Paquita at anchor in the roads! 
 He was frightened at his own exultation. Sup- 
 pose he were wrong in this surmise ! Suppose 
 it were just another of her unaccountable ca- 
 prices ! 
 
 They ran down Channel at full speed and at 
 night were abreast of the Scilly lights, driving 
 towards the Bay of Biscay in the teeth of an 
 Equinoctial gale. At the behest of one girl 
 eighty men had to endure the discomfort of a 
 storm at sea, and a great steel ship, straining and 
 quivering, was flung into the perilous night. It 
 seemed a misuse of power that, at a woman's 
 whim, so many lives and so noble and costly a 
 fabric could be risked and risked for nothing. 
 From the captain on the bridge, dripping in his 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 oil-skins, to the coal-passers and firemen below 
 who fed the mighty furnaces, to the cooks in the 
 galley, the engineers, the electrician on duty, the 
 lookout man in the bow clinging to the life-line 
 when the Mlnnehaha buried her nose out of 
 sight all these perforce had to endure and suf- 
 fer at Florence's bidding without question or 
 revolt. 
 
 Frank's elation passed and left him in a bitter 
 humour towards her. It was not right, he said 
 to himself, not right at all. She ought to show 
 a little consideration for the men who had served 
 her so well and faithfully. Besides, it was un- 
 worthy of her to betray such pettiness and spoil 
 Cassie's dance. He felt for the girl's humilia- 
 tion, and, though not in love with her, he was 
 conscious of a sentiment that hated to see her 
 hurt. He would not accept Florence's invitation 
 to dine in the saloon, sending word that he had a 
 headache and begged to be excused; and after 
 dinner, when she sought him out on deck and 
 
THE CHIEF ENGINEER 
 
 tried to make herself very sweet to him, he was 
 purposely reserved and distant, and took the 
 first opportunity to move away. He was angry, 
 disheartened, and resentful, all in one. 
 
 Towards eleven o'clock at night as Frank was 
 in the engine-room, moodily turning over these 
 reflections in his mind and listening to the race of 
 the screws as again and again they were lifted out 
 of the water and strained the shafts and engines 
 to the utmost, he was surprised to see Florence 
 herself descending the steel ladder into that close 
 atmosphere of oil and steam. He ran to help 
 her down, and taking her arm led her to one side, 
 where they might be out of the way. Here, in 
 the glare of the lanterns, he looked down into 
 her face and thought again how beautiful she 
 was. Her cheek was wet with spray, and her 
 hair was tangled and glistening beneath her little 
 yachting cap. She seemed to exhale a breath of 
 the storm above and bring down with her some- 
 thing of the gale itself. She held fast to Frank 
 [85] 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 as the ship laboured and plunged, smiling as 
 their eyes met. 
 
 " You are the last person I expected down 
 here," said Frank. 
 
 " I was beginning to get afraid," she returned. 
 " It's blowing terribly, Frank and I thought, 
 if anything happened, I'd like to be with you ! " 
 
 " Oh, we are all right ! " said Frank, his pro- 
 fessional spirit aroused. " With twin screws, 
 twin engines, and plenty of sea-room why, let 
 it blow." 
 
 His confidence reassured her. He never ap- 
 peared to her so strong, so self-reliant and calm 
 as at that moment of her incipient fear. 
 Amongst his engines Frank always wore a mas- 
 terful air, for he had that instinct for machinery 
 peculiarly American, and was competent almost 
 to the point of genius. 
 
 " Besides, I wanted to ask you a question," 
 said Florence. " I had to ask it. I couldn't 
 sleep without asking it, Frank." 
 [86] 
 
THE CHIEF ENGINEER 
 
 " I would have come, if you had sent for me," 
 he said. 
 
 " I couldn't wait for that," she returned. " I 
 knew it might be hard for you to leave or im- 
 possible." 
 
 "What is it, Florence?" he asked. The 
 name slipped out in spite of him. 
 
 She looked at him strangely, her lustrous eyes 
 wide open and bright with her unsaid thoughts. 
 
 "Are you very fond of her, Frank?" she 
 asked. 
 
 "Her? Who?" he exclaimed. "You 
 don't mean Cassie Derwent?" 
 
 " Yes," she said. 
 
 " Of course I'm fond of her," he said. 
 
 " More than you are of me, Frank? " she per- 
 sisted. 
 
 " Oh, it isn't the same sort of thing, Flor- 
 ence," he said. " I never even thought of com- 
 paring you and her together. Surely you know 
 that? Surely you understand that? " 
 [87] 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 4 You used to to love me once, Frank," she 
 said, with a stifled sob. " Has she made it any 
 less? Has she robbed me, Frank? Have I 
 lost you without knowing it? " 
 
 " No," he said, " no, a thousand times, no! " 
 
 " Tell me that you love me, Frank," she burst 
 out. "Tell me, tell me! " Then, as he did 
 not answer, she went on passionately: "That's 
 why I went to sea, Frank. I was mad with 
 jealousy. I couldn't give you up to her. I 
 couldn't let her have you ! " 
 
 She pressed closer against him, and tiptoeing 
 so as to raise her mouth to his ear, she whis- 
 pered: " I always liked you better than anybody 
 else in the world, Frank. I love you ! I love 
 you!" 
 
 For the moment he could not realise his own 
 good fortune. He could do nothing but look 
 into her eyes. It was her reproach for years 
 afterwards that she had to kiss him first. 
 
 " I suppose it had to come, Frank," she said. 
 [88] 
 
THE CHIEF ENGINEER 
 
 " I fought all I could, but it didn't seem any 
 use!" 
 
 " It was inevitable," he returned solemnly. 
 " God made you for me, and me for you ! " 
 
 " Amen," she said, and in an ecstasy of 
 abandonment whispered again : " I love you, 
 Frank. I love you ! " 
 
 [89] 
 
FFRE NCHES FIRST 
 
FFRENCHES FIRST 
 
 1 SUPPOSE if I had been a hero of 
 romance, instead of an ordinary kind of 
 chap, I would have steamed in with the 
 Tallahassee, fired a gun, and landed in state, in- 
 stead of putting on my old clothes and sneaking 
 into the county on an automobile. However, I 
 did my little best, so far as making a date with 
 Babcock was concerned, and as it turned out in 
 the end I dare say the hero of romance wouldn't 
 have managed it much better himself. It was 
 late when I got into Forty Fyles (as the village 
 was called), and put up at one of those quaint, 
 low-raftered, bulging old inns which still remain, 
 thank Heaven, here and there, in the less 
 travelled parts of England. If I were dusty 
 and dirty when I arrived, you ought to have seen 
 me the next day after a two-hours' job with the 
 differential gears. By the time I had got the 
 
 [93] 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 trouble to rights, and had puffed up and down 
 the main street to make assurance sure and aston- 
 ish the natives (who came out two hundred 
 strong and cheered), I was as frowsy, unkempt, 
 and dilapidated an American as ever drove a 
 twelve H. P. Panhard through the rural lanes of 
 Britain. Indeed, I was so shocked at my own ap- 
 pearance when I looked at myself in the glass 
 (such a wiggly old glass that showed one in 
 streaks like bacon) that I went down to the dra- 
 per's and tried to buy a new set out. But as they 
 had nothing except cheap tripper suits for pig- 
 mies (I stood six feet in my stockings and had 
 played full back at college) and fishermen's 
 clothes of an ancient Dutch design, I forebore to 
 waste my good dollars in making a guy of my- 
 self, and decided to remain as I was. 
 
 Then, as I was sitting in the bar and asking 
 the potman the best way to get to Castle Fyles, 
 it suddenly came over me that it was the Fourth 
 of July, and that, recreant as I was, I had come 
 
 [94] 
 
FFRENCHES FIRST 
 
 near forgetting the event altogether. I started 
 off again down the main street to discover some 
 means of raising a noise, and after a good deal 
 of searching I managed to procure several hand- 
 fuls of strange whitey fire-crackers the size of 
 cigars and a peculiar red package that the shop- 
 keeper called a " Haetna Volcano." He said 
 that for four and eightpence one couldn't find its 
 match in Lunnon itself, and obligingly took off 
 twopence when I pointed out Vesuvius hadn't a 
 fuse. With the crackers in my pocket and the 
 volcano under my arm I set forth in the pleasant 
 summer morning to walk to Castle Fyles, having 
 an idea to rest by the way and celebrate the 
 Fourth in the very heart of the hereditary enemy. 
 The road, as is so often the case in England, 
 ran between high stone walls and restrained the 
 wayfarer from straying into the gentlemen's 
 parks on either hand. The sun shone overhead 
 with the fierce heat of a British July; and to 
 make matters worse in my case, I seemed to be 
 
 [95] 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 the loadstone of what traffic was in progress on 
 the highway. A load of hay stuck to me with 
 obstinate -determination; if I walked slowly, 
 the hay lagged beside me; if I quickened my 
 pace, the hay whipped up his horses; when I 
 rested and mopped my brow, the hay rested and 
 mopped its brow. Then there were tramps of 
 various kinds: a Punch and Judy show on the 
 march ; swift silent bicyclists who sped past in a 
 flurry of dust; local gentry riding cock-horses 
 (no doubt to Banbury Crosses) ; local gentry in 
 dogcarts; local gentry in closed carriages going 
 to a funeral, and apparently (as seen through 
 the windows) very hot and mournful and per- 
 spiring; an antique clergyman in an antique gig 
 who gave me a tract and warned me against 
 drink; a char-a-bancs filled to bursting with the 
 True Blue Constitutional Club of East Pigley 
 such at least was the inscription on a streaming 
 banner who swung past waving their hats and 
 singing " Our Boarder's such a Nice Young 
 
 [96] 
 
FFRENCHES FIRST 
 
 Man " ; then some pale aristocratic children in a 
 sort of perambulating clothes-basket drawn by a 
 hairy mite of a pony, who looked at me dis- 
 approvingly, as though I hadn't honestly come 
 by the volcano; then but why go on with the 
 never-ending procession of British pilgrims who 
 straggled out at just sufficient intervals to keep 
 between them a perpetual eye on my movements 
 and prevent me from celebrating the birth of 
 freedom in any kind of privacy. At last, get- 
 ting desperate at this espionage and thinking 
 besides I could make a shorter cut towards 
 Castle Fyles, I clambered over an easy place in 
 the left-hand wall and dropped into the shade of 
 a magnificent park. Here, at least, whatever 
 the risk of an outraged law (which I had been 
 patronisingly told was even stricter than that of 
 the Medes and Persians), I seemed free to wan- 
 der unseen and undetected, and accordingly 
 struck a course under the oaks that promised in 
 time to bring me out somewhere near the sea. 
 [97] 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 Dipping into a little dell, where in the per- 
 fection of its English woodland one might have 
 thought to meet Robin Hood himself, or startle 
 Little John beside a fallen deer, I looked care- 
 fully about, got out my pale crackers, and won- 
 dered whether I dared begin. It is always an 
 eerie sensation to be alone in the forest, what 
 with the whispering leaves overhead, the stir 
 and hum of insects, the rustle of ghostly foot- 
 falls, and (in my case) the uneasy sense of green- 
 liveried keepers sneaking up at one through the 
 clumps of gorse. However, I was not the man 
 to belie the blood of Revolutionary heroes and 
 meanly carry my unexploded crackers beyond 
 the scene of danger, so I remembered the brave 
 days of old and touched a whitey off. It burst 
 with the roar of a cannon and reverberated 
 through the glades like the broadside of a man- 
 of-war. It took me a good five minutes before 
 I had the courage to detonate another, which, 
 for better security, I did this time under my hat. 
 
 [98] 
 
FFRENCHES FIRST 
 
 I am not saying it did the hat any good, but it 
 seemed safer and less deafening, and I accord- 
 ingly went on in this manner until there were 
 only about three whiteys left between me and 
 Vesuvius, which I kept back, in accordance with 
 tradition, for one big triumphant bang at the 
 end. 
 
 I was in the act of touching my cigar towhitey 
 number three, on my knees, I remember; and 
 trying to arrange my hat so as to get the most 
 muffling for the least outlay of burned felt, when 
 the branches in front of me parted and I looked 
 up to see well, simply the most beautiful 
 woman in the world, regarding me with astonish- 
 ment and anger. She was about twenty, some- 
 what above the medium height, and her eyes 
 were of a lovely flashing blue that seemed in the 
 intensity of her indignation to positively emit 
 sparks altogether the most exquisitely radiant 
 and glorious creature that man was ever privi- 
 leged to gaze upon. 
 
 [99] 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 " How dare you let off fireworks in this 
 park?" she said, in a voice like clotted 
 cream. 
 
 I rose in some confusion. 
 
 " Go directly," she said, " or I'll report you 
 and have you summonsed ! " 
 
 " I have only two more crackers and this 
 volcano," I said protestingly. " Surely you 
 would not mind " 
 
 " Don't be insolent," she said, " or I shall 
 have no compunction in setting my dog on you." 
 
 I looked down, and there, sure enough, rolling 
 a yellow eye and showing his fangs at me, was a 
 sort of Uncle Tom's Cabin bloodhound only 
 waiting to begin. 
 
 ' The fact is," I said, speaking slowly, so as 
 to emphasise the fact that I was a gentleman, 
 " I am an American; to-day is our national holi- 
 day; and we make it everywhere our practice 
 to celebrate it with fireworks. I would have 
 done so in the road, but the island seemed so 
 [ 100] 
 
FFRENCHES FIRST 
 crowded this morning I couldn't find an undis- 
 turbed place outside the park." 
 
 Beauty was obviously mollified by my tone 
 and respectful address. 
 
 " Please leave the park directly," she said. 
 
 I put the crackers in my pocket, took up my 
 hat, placed the Haetna Volcano under my arm, 
 and stood there, ready to go. 
 
 " Accept my apologies," I said. " Whatever 
 my fault, at least no discourtesy was intended." 
 
 We looked at each other, and Beauty's face 
 relaxed into something like a smile. 
 
 " Just give me one more minute for my vol- 
 cano," I pleaded. 
 
 "You seem very polite," she returned. 
 " Yes, you can set it off, if that will be any satis- 
 faction to you." 
 
 " It '11 be a whole lot," I said, " and since 
 you're so kind perhaps you'll let me include the 
 crackers as well?" 
 
 Then she began to laugh, and the sweetest 
 [101] 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 thing about it was that she didn't want to laugh 
 a bit and blushed the most lovely pink, as she 
 broke out again and again until the woods fairly 
 rang. And as I laughed too for really it was 
 most absurd it was as good as a scene in a play. 
 And so, while she held Legree's dog, whom the 
 sound inflamed to frenzy, I popped off the 
 crackers and dropped my cigar into Vesuvius. 
 I tell you he was worth four and eightpence, 
 and the man was right when he said there wasn't 
 his match in London. I doubt if there was his 
 match anywhere for being plumb-full of red 
 balls and green balls and blue balls and crimson 
 stars and fizzlegigs and whole torrents of tiny 
 crackers and chase-me-quicks, and when you 
 about thought he was never going to stop he 
 shot up a silver spray and a gold spray and 
 wound up with a very considerable decent-sized 
 bust. 
 
 " I must thank you for your good nature," I 
 said to the young lady. 
 
 [ 102] 
 
FFRENCHES FIRST 
 
 " Are you a typical American? " she asked. 
 
 " Oh, so so/' I returned. " There are heaps 
 like me in New York." 
 
 " And do they all do this on the Fourth of 
 July? "she asked. 
 
 " Every last one ! " I said. 
 
 "Fancy! "she said. 
 
 " In America," I said, " when a man has re- 
 ceived one favour he is certain to make it the 
 stepping-stone for another. Won't you permit 
 me to walk across the park to Castle Fyles? " 
 
 " Castle Fyles?" she repeated, with a little 
 note of curiosity in her girlish voice. " Then 
 don't you know that this is Fyles Park? " 
 
 " Can't say I did," I returned. " But I am 
 delighted to hear it." 
 
 "Why are you delighted to hear it?" she 
 asked, making me feel more than ever like an 
 escaped lunatic. 
 
 4 This is the home of my ancestors," I said, 
 " and it makes me glad to think they amount to 
 
 [103] 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 something own real estate and keep their 
 venerable heads above water." 
 
 " So this is the home of your ancestors," she 
 said. 
 
 " It's holy ground to me," I said. 
 
 " Fancy! " she exclaimed. 
 
 " At least I think it is," I went on, " though 
 we haven't any proofs beyond the fact that 
 Fyles has always been a family name with us 
 back to the Colonial days. I'm named Fyles 
 myself Fyles ffrench and we, like the Castle 
 people have managed to retain our little f 
 throughout the ages." 
 
 She looked at me so incredulously that I 
 handed her my card. 
 
 Mr. Fyles ffrench, 
 Knickerbocker Club. 
 
 She turned it over in her fingers, regarding 
 me at the same time with flattering curiosity. 
 "How do you do, kinsman?" she said, 
 [104] 
 
FFRENCHES FIRST 
 
 holding out her hand. " Welcome to old 
 
 England!" 
 
 ' I took her little hand and pressed it. 
 
 " I am the daughter of the house," she ex- 
 plained, " and I'm named Fyles too, though 
 they usually call me Verna." 
 
 " And the little f, of course," I said. 
 
 " Just like yours," she returned. " There 
 may be some capital F's in the family, but we 
 wouldn't acknowledge them ! " 
 
 " What a fellow-feeling that gives one ! " I 
 said. " At school, at college, in business, in the 
 war with Spain when I served on the Dixie, my 
 life has been one long struggle to preserve that 
 little f against a capital F world. I remember 
 saying that to a chum the day we sank Cervera, 
 4 If I am killed, Bill,' I said, ' see that they don't 
 capital F me on the scroll of fame ! ' 
 
 " A true ffrench ! " exclaimed Beauty with 
 approval. 
 
 " As true as yourself," I said. 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 " Do you know that I'm the last of them? " 
 she said. 
 
 " You ! " I exclaimed. " The last I " 
 
 " Yes," she said, " when my father dies the 
 estates will pass to my second cousin, Lord 
 George Willoughby, and our branch of the 
 family will become extinct." 
 
 " You fill me with despair," I said. 
 
 " My father never can forgive me for being 
 a girl," she said. 
 
 " I can," I remarked, " even at the risk of ap- 
 pearing disloyal to the race." 
 
 " Fyles," she said, addressing me straight out 
 by my first name, and with a little air that told 
 me plainly I had made good my footing in the 
 fold, " Fyles, what a pity you aren't the rightful 
 heir, come from overseas with parchments and 
 parish registers, to make good your claim before 
 the House of Lords." 
 
 " Wouldn't that be rather hard on you? " I 
 asked. 
 
 [106] 
 
FFRENCHES FIRST 
 
 " I'd rather give up everything than see the 
 old place pass to strangers," she said. 
 
 " But I'm a stranger," I said. 
 
 " You're Fyles ffrench," she exclaimed, " and 
 a man, and you'd hand the old name down and 
 keep the estate together." 
 
 " And guard the little f with the last drop of 
 my blood," I said. 
 
 " Ah, well ! " she said, with a little sigh, " the 
 world's a disappointing place at best, and I sup- 
 pose it serves us right for centuries of conceit 
 about ourselves." 
 
 " That at least will never die," I observed. 
 " The American branch will see to that part 
 of it." 
 
 " It's a pity, though, isn't it? " she said. 
 
 " Well," I said, " when a family has been 
 carrying so much dog for a thousand years, I 
 suppose in common fairness it's time to give way 
 for another." 
 
 " What is carrying dog? " she said. 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 " It's American," I returned, " for thinking 
 yourself better than anybody else ! " 
 
 " Fancy ! " she said, and then with a beautiful 
 smile she took my hand and rubbed it against the 
 hound's muzzle. 
 
 " You mustn't growl at him, Olaf," she said. 
 "He's a ffrench; he's one of us; and he has 
 come from over the sea to make friends." 
 
 " You can't turn me out of the park after 
 that," I said, in spite of a very dubious lick from 
 the noble animal, who, possibly because he 
 couldn't read and hadn't seen my card, was still 
 a prey to suspicion. 
 
 " I am going to take you back to the castle 
 myself," she said, " and we'll spend the day 
 going all over it, and I shall introduce you to my 
 father Sir Fyles when he returns at five from 
 Ascot." 
 
 " I could ask for nothing better," I said, 
 " though I don't want to make myself a burden 
 to you. And then," I went on, a little uncer- 
 [108] 
 
FFRENCHES FIRST 
 
 tain how best to express myself, " you are so 
 queer in England about about " 
 
 " Proprieties," she said, giving the word 
 which I hesitated to use. " Oh, yes ! I suppose I 
 oughtn't to; indeed, it's awful, and there'll be 
 lunch too, Fyles, which makes it twice as bad. 
 But to-day I'm going to be American and do 
 just what I like." 
 
 " I thought I ought to mention it," I said. 
 
 " Objection overruled," she returned. 
 " That's what they used to say in court when my 
 father had his famous right-of-way case with 
 Lord Piffle of Doom; and from what I remem- 
 ber there didn't seem any repartee to it." 
 
 " There certainly isn't one from me," I said. 
 
 " Let's go," she said. 
 
 There didn't seem any end to that park, and 
 we walked and walked and rested once or twice 
 under the deep shade, and took in a mouldy 
 pavilion in white marble with broken windows, 
 anr 1 a Temple of Love that dated back to the 
 [109] 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 sixteenth century, and rowed on an ornamental 
 water in a real gondola that leaked like sixty, 
 and landed on a rushy island where there was a 
 sun-dial and a stone seat that the Druids or 
 somebody had considerately placed there in the 
 year one, and talked of course, and grew con- 
 fidential, until finally I was calling her Verna 
 (which was her pet name) and telling her how 
 the other fellow had married my best girl, while 
 she spoke most beautifully and sensibly about 
 love, and the way the old families were dying 
 out because they had set greater store on their 
 lands than on their hearts, and altogether with 
 what she said and what I said, and what was 
 understood, we passed from acquaintance to 
 friendship, and from friendship to the verge of 
 something even nearer. Even the Uncle Tom 
 hound fell under the spell of our new-found 
 intimacy and condescended to lick my hand of 
 his own volition, which Verna said he had never 
 done before except to the butcher, and winked a 
 [no] 
 
FFRENCHES FIRST 
 
 bloodshot eye when I remarked he was too big 
 for the island and ought to go back with me to a 
 country nearer his size. 
 
 By the time we had reached the cliffs and 
 began to perceive the high grey walls of the 
 castle in the distance, Verna and I were faster 
 friends than ever, and anyone seeing us together 
 would have thought we had known each other 
 all our lives. I felt more and more happy to 
 think I had met her first in this unconventional 
 way, for as the castle loomed up closer and we 
 passed gardeners and keepers and jockeys with a 
 string of race-horses out for exercise, I felt that 
 my pretty companion was constrained by the 
 sight of these obsequious faces and changing by 
 gradations into what she really was, the daugh- 
 ter of the castle and by right of blood one of the 
 great ladies of the countryside. 
 
 The castle itself was a tremendous old pile, 
 built on a rocky peninsula and surrounded on 
 three sides by the waters of Appledore Harbour. 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 It lay so as to face the entrance, which Verna 
 told me was commanded or rather had been in 
 years past by the guns of a half-moon battery 
 that stood planted on a sort of third-story ter- 
 race. It was all towers and donjons and ram- 
 parts, and might, in its mediaeval perfection, have 
 been taken bodily out of one of Sir Walter 
 Scott's novels. Verna and I had lunch together 
 in a perfectly gorgeous old hall, with beams and 
 carved panelling and antlers, and a fireplace 
 you could have roasted an ox in, and rows of 
 glistening suits of armour which the original 
 ffrenches had worn when they had first started 
 the family in life and all this, if you please, 
 t&te-&-ttewith a woman who seemed to get more 
 beautiful every minute I gazed at her, and who 
 smiled back at me and called me Fyles, to the 
 stupefaction of three noiseless six-footers in 
 silk stockings. Disapproving six-footers, too, 
 whose gimlet eyes seemed to pierce my back 
 as they sized up my clothes, which, as I said 
 
 [112] 
 
FFRENCHES FIRST 
 before, had suffered not a little by my trip, and 
 my collar, which I'll admit straight out wasn't 
 up to a castle standard, and the undeniable stain 
 of machine-oil on my cuffs which I had got that 
 morning in putting the machine to rights. You 
 ought to have seen the man that took my hat, 
 which he did with the air of a person receiving 
 pearls and diamonds on a golden platter, and 
 smudged his lordly fingers with the grime of my 
 Fourth of July. And that darling of a girl, 
 who never noticed my discomfiture, but whose 
 eyes sparkled at times with a hidden merriment 
 shall I ever forget her as she sat there and 
 helped me to mutton-chops from simply price- 
 less old Charles the First plate ! 
 
 We had black coffee together in a window- 
 seat overlooking the harbour and the ships, and 
 she asked me a lot of questions about the war 
 with Spain and my service in the Dixie. She 
 never moved a muscle when it came out I had 
 been a quartermaster, though I could feel she 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 was astounded at my being but a shade above a 
 common seaman, and not, as she had taken it 
 for granted, a commissioned officer. I was too 
 proud to explain over-much, or to tell her I had 
 gone in, as so many of my friends had done, from 
 a strong sense of duty and patriotism at the time 
 of my country's need, and consequently allowed 
 her to get a very wrong idea, I suppose, about 
 my state in life and position in the world. In- 
 deed, I was just childish enough to get a trifle 
 wounded, and let her add misconception to mis- 
 conception out of a silly obstinacy. 
 
 " But what do you do," she asked, " now that 
 the war is over and youVe taken away every- 
 thing from the poor Spaniards and left the 
 Navy?" 
 
 " Work," I said. 
 
 " What kind of work? " she asked. 
 
 "Oh, in an office! " I said. (I didn't tell 
 her I was the Third Vice President of the 
 Amalgamated Copper Company, with a twenty- 
 
 [114] 
 
FFRENCHES FIRST 
 
 story building on lower Broadway. Wild 
 horses couldn't have wrung it out of me then.) 
 
 " You're too nice for an office," she said, 
 looking at me so sweetly and sadly. ' You 
 ought to be a gentleman 1 " 
 
 " Oh, dear ! " I exclaimed, " I hope I am that, 
 even if I do grub along in an office." I wish my 
 partners could have heard me say that. Why, I 
 have a private elevator of my own and a 
 squash-court on the roof ! 
 
 " Of course, I don't mean that," she went on 
 quickly, " but like us, I mean, with a castle and a 
 place in society " 
 
 " I have a sort of little picayune place in New 
 York," I interrupted. " I don't sleep in the 
 office, you know. At night I go out and see 
 my friends and sometimes they invite me to 
 dinner." 
 
 She looked at me more sadly than ever. I 
 don't believe humour was Verna's strong suit 
 anyway, not American humour, at least, 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 for she not only believed what I said, but more 
 too. 
 
 " I must speak to Papa about you," she said. 
 
 "What will he do ?" I asked. 
 
 "Oh, help you along, you know," she said; 
 " ffrenches always stand together; it's a family 
 trait, though it's dying out now for lack of 
 ffrenches. You know our family motto? " she 
 went on. 
 
 " I'm afraid I don't," I said. 
 
 " ' ffrenches first! ' " she returned. 
 
 I had to laugh. 
 
 " We've lived up to it in America," I said. 
 
 " Papa is quite a power in the City," she said. 
 
 " I thought he was a gentleman," I replied. 
 
 " Everybody dabbles in business nowadays," 
 she returned, not perceiving the innuendo. " I 
 am sure Papa ought to know all about it from 
 the amount of money he has lost." 
 
 " Perhaps his was a case of ffrenches last! " 
 I said. 
 
 [116] 
 
FFRENCHES FIRST 
 
 " Still, he knows all the influential people, 1 ' 
 she continued, " and it would be so easy for him 
 to get you a position over here." 
 
 " That would be charming," I said. 
 
 " And then I might see you occasionally," she 
 said, with such a little ring of kindness in her 
 voice that for a minute I felt a perfect brute for 
 deceiving her. " You could run down here 
 from Saturday to Monday, you know, and on 
 Bank Holidays, and in the season you would 
 have the entrte to our London house and the 
 chance of meeting nice people ! " 
 
 " How jolly! "I said. 
 
 " I can't bear you to go back to America," she 
 said. " Now that I've found you, I'm going to 
 keep you." 
 
 " I hate the thought of going back myself," I 
 said, and so I did at the thought of leaving 
 that angel ! 
 
 " Then, you know," she went on, somewhat 
 shyly and hesitatingly, " you have such good 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 manners and such a good air, and you're 
 > 
 
 " Don't mind saying handsome," I remarked. 
 
 " You really are very nice-looking," she said, 
 with a seriousness that made me acutely un- 
 comfortable, " and what with our friendship 
 and our house open to you and the people you 
 could invite down here, because I know Papa is 
 going to go out of his mind about you he and 
 I are always crazy about the same people, you 
 know not to speak of the little f, there is no 
 reason, Fyles, why in the end you shouldn't 
 marry an awfully rich girl and set up for your- 
 self!" 
 
 " Thank you," I said, " but if it's all the same 
 to you I don't think I'd care to." 
 
 " I know awfully rich girls who are pretty 
 too," she said, as though forestalling an objec- 
 tion. 
 
 " I do too," I said, looking at her so earnestly 
 that she coloured up to the eyes. 
 [118] 
 
FFRENCHES FIRST 
 
 " Oh, I am poor! " she said. " It's all we 
 can do to keep the place up. Besides be- 
 sides " And then she stopped and looked 
 
 out of the window. I saw I had been a fool to be 
 so personal, and I was soon punished for my 
 presumption, for she rose to her feet and said in 
 an altered voice that she would now show me the 
 castle. 
 
 As I said before, it was a tremendous old 
 place. It was a two-hours' job to go through it 
 even as we did, and then Verna said we had 
 skipped a whole raft of things she would let me 
 see some other time. There was a private 
 theatre, a chapel with effigies of cross-legged 
 Crusaders, an armoury with a thousand stand 
 of flint-locks, a library, magnificent state apart- 
 ments with wonderful tapestries, a suite of rooms 
 where they had confined a mad ffrench in the 
 fifteenth century, with the actual bloodstains on 
 the floor where he had dashed out his poor silly 
 brains against the wall; a magazine with a lot 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 of empty powder-casks Cromwell had left there; 
 a vaulted chamber for the men of the half -moon 
 battery ; a well which was said to have no bottom 
 and which had remained unused for a hundred 
 years, because a wicked uncle had thrown the 
 rightful heir into it; and slimy, creepy-crawly 
 dungeons with chains for your hands and feet; 
 and cachettes where they spilled you through a 
 hole in the floor, and let it go at that ; and but 
 what wasn't there, indeed, in that extraordinary 
 old feudal citadel, which had been in continuous 
 human possession since the era of Hardicanute. 
 There seemed to be only one thing missing in the 
 whole castle, and that was a bath though I 
 dare say there was one in the private apartments 
 not shown to me. It was a regular dive into the 
 last five hundred years, and the fact that it 
 wasn't a museum nor exploited by a sing-song 
 cicerone, helped to make it for me a memorable 
 and really thrilling experience. I conjured up 
 my forebears and could see them playing as 
 [ 120] 
 
FFRENCHES FIRST 
 children, growing to manhood, passing into old 
 age, and finally dying in the shadow of those 
 same massive walls. Verna said I was quite 
 pale when we emerged at last into the open air 
 on the summit of the high square tower; and no 
 wonder that I was, for in a kind of way I had 
 been deeply impressed, and it seemed a solemn 
 thing that I, like her, should be a child of this 
 castle, with roots deep cast in far-off ages. 
 
 " Wouldn't it be horrible," I said, "if I 
 found out I wasn't a ffrench at all but had 
 really sprung from a low-down, capital F family 
 in the next county or somewhere ! " 
 
 " Oh, but you are a real ffrench," said Verna. 
 
 " How do you know? " I asked. 
 
 " I can feel it," she said. " I never felt 
 that kind of sensation before towards anybody 
 except my father! " 
 
 I hardly knew whether to be pleased or not. 
 And besides, it didn't seem to me conclusive. 
 
 Then she touched a button ( for the castle was 
 [121] 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 thoroughly wired and there was even a minia- 
 ture telephone system) and servants brought us 
 up afternoon tea, and a couple of chairs to sit on, 
 and a folding table set out with flowers, and the 
 best toast and the best tea and the best straw- 
 berry jam and the best chocolate cake and the 
 best butter that I had as yet tasted in the whole 
 island. The view itself was good enough to 
 eat, for we were high above everything and saw 
 the harbour and the country stretched out on all 
 sides like a map. 
 
 " This is where I come for my day-dreams," 
 said Verna. " I usually have it all to myself, 
 for people hate the stairs so much and the ladies 
 twitter about the dust and the cobwebs and the 
 shakiness of the last ladder, and the silly things 
 get dizzy and have to be held." 
 
 " You don't seem to be afraid," I said. 
 
 " This has been my favourite spot all my 
 life," she returned. " I can remember Papa 
 holding me up when I wasn't five years old and 
 [ 122] 
 
FFRENCHES FIRST 
 
 telling me about the Lady Grizzle that threw 
 herself off the parapet rather than marry some- 
 body she had to and wouldn't ! " 
 
 " Tell me about your day-dreams, Verna," I 
 said. 
 
 " Just a giiTs fancies," she returned, smiling. 
 " I dare say men have them too. Fairy princes, 
 you know, and what he'd say and what I'd say, 
 and how much I'd love him, and how much he'd 
 love me ! " 
 
 " I can understand the last part of it," I 
 observed. 
 
 " You are really very nice," she returned, 
 " and when Papa has got you that place in the 
 City, I am going to allow you to come up here 
 and dream too. And you'll tell me about the 
 Sleeping Beauty and I'll unbosom myself about 
 the Beast, and we'll exchange heart-aches and be, 
 oh, so happy together." 
 
 " I am that now," I said. 
 
 " You're awfully easily pleased, Fyles," she 
 [123] 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 said. " Most of the men I know I have to rack 
 my head to entertain ; talk exploring, you know, 
 to explorers, and horses to Derby winners, 
 and what it feels like to be shot to soldiers 
 but you entertain me, and that is so much 
 pleasanter." 
 
 " I wish I dared ask you some questions," I 
 said. 
 
 " Oh, but you mustn't ! " she broke out, with 
 a quick intuition of what I meant. 
 
 "Why mustn't?" Tasked. 
 
 " Oh, because because " she returned. 
 
 " I wouldn't like to fib to you, and I wouldn't 
 like to tell you the truth and it would make 
 me feel hot and uncomfortable " 
 
 "What would? "I asked. 
 
 " You see, if I really cared for him, it would 
 be different," she said. " But I don't and 
 that's all." 
 
 " Lady Grizzle over again? " I ventured. 
 
 " Not altogether," she said, " you see she was 
 
FFRENCHES FIRST 
 perfectly mad about somebody else which 
 really was hard lines for her, poor thing while 
 I " 
 
 "Oh, please go on!" I said, as she hesi- 
 tated. 
 
 " Fyles," she said, with the ghost of a sigh, 
 " this isn't day-dreaming at all, and I'm going 
 to give you another cup of tea and change the 
 subject." 
 
 44 What would you prefer, then?" I asked. 
 44 No ! No more chocolate cake, thank you." 
 
 44 Let's have a fairy story all of our own," she 
 said. 
 
 44 Well, you begin," I said. 
 
 44 Once upon a time," she began, " there was a 
 poor young man in New York an American, 
 though of course he couldn't help that and he 
 came over to England and discovered the home 
 of his ancestors, and he liked them, and they 
 liked him ever so much, you know and he 
 found that the old place was destined to pass to 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 strangers, and so he worked and worked in 
 a dark old office, and stayed up at night work- 
 ing some more, and never accepted any invita- 
 tions or took a holiday except at week-ends to 
 the family castle until finally he amassed an 
 immense fortune. Then he got into a fairy 
 chariot, together with a bag of gold and the 
 family lawyer, and ordered the coachman to 
 drive him to Lord George Willoughby's in Cur- 
 zon Street. Then they sent out in hot haste for 
 Sir George's son, an awfully fast young man in 
 the Guards, and the family lawyer haggled and 
 haggled, and Lord George hemmed and hawed, 
 and the Guardsman's eyes sparkled with greed at 
 the sight of the bag of gold, and finally for two 
 hundred thousand pounds (Papa says he often 
 thinks he could pull it off for a hundred and ten 
 thousand) the entail is broken and everybody 
 signs his name to the papers and the poor young 
 man buys the succession of Fyles and comes 
 down here, regardless of expense, in a splendid 
 
FFRE NCHES FIRST 
 
 gilt special train, and is received with open arms 
 by his kinsmen at the castle." 
 
 " The open arms appeal to me," I said. 
 
 " He was nearly hugged to death," said 
 Verna, " for they were so pleased the old name 
 was not to die out and be forgotten. And then 
 the poor young man married a ravishing beauty 
 and had troops of sunny-haired children, and the 
 daughter of the castle (who by this time was an 
 old maid and quite plain, though everybody said 
 she had a heart like hidden treasure) devoted 
 herself to the little darlings and taught them 
 music-lessons and manners and how to spell their 
 names with a little f, and as a great treat would 
 sometimes bring them up here and tell them how 
 she had first met the poor young man in the * dia- 
 mond mornings of long ago ' ! " 
 
 " That's a good fairy story," I said, " but you 
 are all out about the end ! " 
 
 4 You said you liked it," she protested. 
 
 * Yes, where they hugged the poor young 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 man," I returned, " but after that, Verna, it went 
 off the track altogether." 
 
 " Perhaps you'll put it back again," she said. 
 
 " I want to correct all that about the daughter 
 of the castle," I said. " She never became an 
 old maid at all, for, of course, the poor young 
 man loved her to distraction and married her 
 right off, and they lived happily together ever 
 afterwards! " 
 
 " I believe that is nicer," she said thought- 
 fully, as though considering the matter. 
 
 "Truer, too," I said, "because really the 
 poor young man adored her from the first minute 
 of their meeting ! " 
 
 " I wonder how long it will take him to make 
 his fortune," she said, which, under the circum- 
 stances, struck me as a cruel thing to say. 
 
 " Possibly he has made it already," I said. 
 " How do you know he hasn't? " 
 
 " By his looks for one thing," she said, re- 
 garding the machine oil on my cuff out of the 
 
 [128] 
 
FFRENCHES FIRST 
 corner of her eye. " Besides, he hasn't any of 
 the arrogance of a parvenu, and is much 
 
 . 1> 
 
 "Too what?" I asked. 
 
 44 Well bred," she replied simply. 
 
 " No doubt that's the ffrench in him," I said, 
 which I think was rather a neat return. 
 
 She didn't answer, but looked absently across 
 to the harbour mouth. 
 
 " I believe there is a steamer coming in," she 
 said. " Yes, a steamer." 
 
 " A yacht, I think," I said, for, sure enough, 
 it was Babcock true to the minute, heading the 
 Tallahassee straight in. I could have given him 
 a hundred dollars on the spot I was so delighted, 
 for he couldn't have timed it better, nor at a 
 moment when it could have pleased me more. 
 She ran in under easy steam, making a splendid 
 appearance with her raking masts and razor 
 bow, under which the water spurted on either 
 side like dividing silver. Except a beautiful 
 [ 129] 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 woman, I don't know that there's a sweeter 
 sight than a powerful, sea-going steam yacht, 
 with the sun glinting on her bright brass-work, 
 and a uniformed crew jumping to the sound of 
 the boatswain's whistle. 
 
 " The poor young man's ship's come home," 
 I said. 
 
 " It must be Lady Gaunt's Sapphire" said 
 Verna. 
 
 " With the American colours astern? " I said. 
 
 " Why, how strange," she said, " it really is 
 American. And then I believe it's larger than 
 the Sapphire!" 
 
 11 Fifteen hundred and four tons register," I 
 said. 
 
 " How do you know that? " she demanded, 
 with a shade of surprise in her voice. 
 
 " Because, my dear, it's mine! " I said. 
 
 " Yours ! " she cried out in astonishment. 
 
 " If you doubt me," I said, " I shall tell you 
 what she is going to do next. She is about to 
 
 [130] 
 
FFRENCHES FIRST 
 
 steam in here and lower a boat to take me 
 aboard." 
 
 44 She's heading for Dartmouth," said Verna 
 incredulously, and the words were hardly out of 
 her pretty mouth when Babcock swung round 
 and pointed the Tallahassee's nose straight at us. 
 
 For a moment Verna was too overcome to 
 speak. 
 
 " Fyles," she said at last, " you told me you 
 worked in an office 1 " 
 
 " So I do," I said. 
 
 "And own a vessel like that ! " she exclaimed. 
 " A yacht the size of a man-of-war ! " 
 
 " It was you that said I was a poor young 
 man," I observed. " I was so pleased at being 
 called young that I let the poor pass." 
 
 " Fancy ! " she exclaimed, looking at me with 
 eyes like stars. And then, recovering herself, 
 she added in another tone: " Now don't you 
 think it was very forward to rendezvous at a 
 private castle ? " 
 
 [130 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 " Oh, I thought I could make myself solid 
 before she arrived," I said. 
 
 " Fyles," she said, " I am beginning to have 
 a different opinion of you. You are not as 
 straightforward as a ffrench ought to be and, 
 though I'm ashamed to say it of you but you 
 are positively conceited." 
 
 " Unsay, take back, those angry words," I 
 said; and even as I did so the anchor went 
 splash and I could hear the telegraph jingle in 
 the engine-room. 
 
 "And so you're rich," said Verna, " awfully, 
 immensely, disgustingly rich, and you've been 
 masquerading all this afternoon as a charming 
 pauper ! " 
 
 " I don't think I said charming," I remarked. 
 
 " But I say it," said Verna, " because, really 
 you know, you're awfully nice, and I like you, 
 and I'm glad from the bottom of my heart that 
 you are rich ! " 
 
 " Thank you," I said, " I'm glad, too." 
 
FFRENC HES FIRST 
 
 " Now we must go down and meet your boat," 
 said Verna. " See, there it is, coming in 
 though I still think it was cheeky of you to tell 
 them to land uninvited." 
 
 " Oh, let them wait ! " I said. 
 
 " No, no, we must go and meet them," said 
 Verna, " and I'm going to ask that glorious old 
 cox with the yellow beard whether it's all true 
 or not 1 " 
 
 " You can't believe it yet? " I said. 
 
 " You've only yourself to thank for it," she 
 said. " I got used to you as one thing and 
 here you are, under my eyes, turning out an- 
 other." 
 
 I could not resist saying "Fancy!" though 
 she did not seem to perceive any humour in my 
 exclamation of it, and took it as a matter of 
 course. Besides, she had risen now, and bade 
 me follow her down the stairs. 
 
 It was really fine to see the men salute me as 
 we walked down to the boat, and the darkies' 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 teeth shining at the sight of me (for I'm a be- 
 liever in the coloured sailor) and old Neilsen 
 grinning respectfully in the stern-sheets. 
 
 " Neilsen," I said, " tell this young lady my 
 
 name ! " 
 
 " Mr. ffrench, sir," he answered, consider- 
 ably astonished at the question. 
 
 "Little for big F, Neilsen?" 
 
 " Little f, sir," said Neilsen. 
 
 " There, doubter! " I said to Verna. 
 
 She had her hand on my arm and was smiling 
 down at the men from the little stone pier on 
 which we stood. 
 
 " Fyles," she said, " you must land and dine 
 with us to-night, not only because I want you to, 
 but because you ought to meet my father." 
 
 "About when?" I asked. 
 
 " Seven-thirty," she answered; and then, in a 
 lower voice, so that the men below might not 
 hear: " Our fairy tale is coming true, isn't it, 
 Fyles?" 
 
 [134] 
 
FFRENCHES FIRST 
 
 " Right to the end," I said. 
 
 " There were two ends/' she said. " Mine 
 and yours." 
 
 "Oh, mine," I said; "that is, if you'll live 
 up to your part of it 1 " 
 
 " What do you want me to do? " she asked. 
 
 " Throw over the Beast and be my Princess," 
 I said, trying to talk lightly, though my voice 
 betrayed me. 
 
 " Perhaps I will," she answered. 
 
 " Perhaps!" I repeated. "That isn't any 
 answer at all." 
 
 " Yes, then ! " she said quickly, and, disengag- 
 ing her hand from my arm, ran back a few 
 steps. 
 
 " I hear Papa's wheels," she cried over her 
 shoulder, u and, don't forget, Fyles, dinner at 
 seven-thirty 1 " 
 
 [135] 
 
THE GOLDEN CASTAWAYS 
 
THE GOLDEN CASTAWAYS 
 
 A" ~^ I did was to pull him out by the seat 
 of the trousers. The fat old thing had 
 gone out in the dark to the end of the 
 yacht's boat-boom, and was trying to worry in 
 the dinghy with his toe, when plump he dropped 
 into a six-knot ebb tide. Of course, if I hadn't 
 happened along in a launch, he might have 
 drowned, but, as for anything heroic on my part 
 why, the very notion is preposterous. The 
 whole affair only lasted half a minute, and in 
 five he was aboard his yacht and drinking hot 
 Scotch in a plush dressing-gown. It was natural 
 that his wife and daughter should be frightened, 
 and natural, too, I suppose, that when they 
 had finished crying over him they should cry 
 over me. He had taken a chance with the East 
 River, and it had been the turn of a hair whether 
 [ 139] 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 he floated down the current a dead grocer full 
 of brine, or stood in that cabin, a live one full 
 of grog. Oh, no! I am not saying a word 
 against them. But as for Grossensteck himself, 
 he ought really to have known better, and it 
 makes me flush even now to recall his monstrous 
 perversion of the truth. He called me a hero 
 to my face. He invented details to which my 
 dry clothes gave the lie direct. He threw fits 
 of gratitude. His family were theatrically com- 
 manded to regard me well, so that my counte- 
 nance might be forever imprinted on their 
 hearts; and they, poor devils, in a seventh 
 heaven to have him back safe and sound in their 
 midst, regarded and regarded, and imprinted 
 and imprinted, till I felt like a perfect ass mas- 
 querading as a Hobson. 
 
 It was all I could do to tear myself away. 
 
 Grossensteck clung to me. Mrs. Grossensteck 
 
 clung to me. Teresa that was the daughter 
 
 Teresa, too, clung to me. I had to give my 
 
 [ 140] 
 
THE GOLDEN CASTAWAYS 
 
 address. I had to take theirs. Medals were 
 spoken of; gold watches with inscriptions; a com- 
 mon purse, on which I was requested to confer 
 the favour of drawing for the term of my natural 
 life. I departed in a blaze of glory, and though 
 I could not but see the ridiculous side of the 
 affair (I mean as far as I was concerned), I 
 was moved by so affecting a family scene, and 
 glad, indeed, to think that the old fellow had 
 been spared to his wife and daughter. I had 
 even a pang of envy, for I could not but contrast 
 myself with Grossensteck, and wondered if there 
 were two human beings in the world who would 
 have cared a snap whether I lived or died. Of 
 course, that was just a passing mood, for, as a 
 matter of fact, I am a man with many friends, 
 and I knew some would feel rather miserable 
 were I to make a hole in saltwater. But, you see, 
 I had just had a story refused by Schoonmaker's 
 Magazine, a good story, too, and that always 
 gives me a sinking feeling to think that after 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 all these years I am still on the borderland of 
 failure, and can never be sure of acceptance, 
 even by the second-class periodicals for which I 
 write. However, in a day or two, I managed 
 to unload " The Case against Phillpots " on 
 somebody else, and off I started for the New 
 Jersey coast with a hundred and fifty dollars in 
 my pocket, and no end of plans for a long au- 
 tumn holiday. 
 
 I never gave another thought to Grossensteck 
 until one morning, as I was sitting on the ver- 
 anda of my boarding-house, the postman ap- 
 peared and requested me to sign for a registered 
 package. I opened it with some trepidation, for 
 I had caught that fateful name written crosswise 
 in the corner and began at once to apprehend the 
 worst. I think I have as much assurance as any 
 man, but it took all I had and more, too, when I 
 unwrapped a gold medal the thickness and shape 
 of an enormous checker, and deciphered the fol- 
 lowing inscription : 
 
THE GOLDEN CASTAWAYS 
 
 Presented 
 
 to 
 
 Hugo Dundonald Esquire 
 
 for having 
 With signal heroism, gallantry and presence of mind 
 
 rescued 
 
 On the night of June third, 1900 
 the life 
 
 of 
 Hermann Grossensteck 
 
 from 
 The dark and treacherous waters of the East River. 
 
 The thing was as thick as two silver dollars, 
 laid the one on the other, and gold solid, ring- 
 ing, massy gold all the way through; and it 
 was associated with a blue satin ribbon, besides, 
 which was to serve for sporting it on my manly 
 bosom. I set it on the rail and laughed 
 laughed till the tears ran down my cheeks 
 while the other boarders crowded about me; 
 
 [143] 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 handed it from hand to hand; grew excited to 
 think that they had a hero in their midst; and 
 put -down my explanation to the proverbial mod- 
 esty of the brave. Blended with my amusement 
 were some qualms at the intrinsic value of the 
 medal, for it could scarcely have cost less than 
 three or four hundred dollars, and it worried me 
 to think that Grossensteck must have drawn so 
 lavishly on his savings. It had not occurred to 
 me, either before or then, that he was rich; 
 somehow, in the bare cabin of the schooner, I 
 had received no such impression of his means. I 
 had not even realised that the vessel was his own, 
 taking it for granted that it had been hired, all 
 standing, for a week or two with the put-by 
 economies of a year. His home address ought 
 to have set me right, but I had not taken the 
 trouble to read it, slipping it into my pocket- 
 book more to oblige him than with any idea of 
 following up the acquaintance. It was one of 
 the boarders that enlightened me. 
 
 [144] 
 
THE GOLDEN CASTAWAYS 
 
 "Grossensteck! " he exclaimed; "why, that's 
 the great cheap grocer of New York, the Park 
 & Tilford of the lower orders! There are 
 greenbacks in his rotten tea, you know, and 
 places to leave your baby while you buy his 
 sanded sugar, and if you save eighty tags of his 
 syrup you get a silver spoon you wouldn't be 
 found dead with ! Oh, everybody knows Gros- 
 sensteck! " 
 
 " Well, I pulled the great cheap grocer out of 
 the East River," I said. " There was certainly 
 a greenback in that tea," and I took another 
 look at my medal, and began to laugh all over 
 again. 
 
 " There's no reason why you should ever 
 have another grocery bill," said the boarder. 
 14 That is, if flavour cuts no figure with you, and 
 you'd rather eat condemned army stores than 
 not!" 
 
 I sat down and wrote a letter of thanks. It 
 was rather a nice letter, for I could not but feel 
 
 [145] 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 pleased at the old fellow's gratitude, even if it 
 were a trifle overdone, and, when all's said, it 
 was undoubtedly a fault on the right side. I 
 disclaimed the heroism, and bantered him good- 
 naturedly about the medal, which, of course, I 
 said I would value tremendously and wear on 
 appropriate occasions. I wondered at the time 
 what occasion could be appropriate to decorate 
 one's self with a gold saucer covered with lies 
 but, naturally, I didn't go into that to him. 
 When you accept a solid chunk of gold you 
 might as well be handsome about it, and I piled 
 it on about his being long spared to his family 
 and to a world that wouldn't know how to get 
 along without him. Yes, it was a stunning let- 
 ter, and I've often had the pleasure of reading 
 it since in a splendid frame below my photo- 
 graph. 
 
 I had been a month or more in New York, and 
 December was already well advanced before I 
 looked up my Grossenstecks, which I did one late 
 
THE GOLDEN CASTAWAYS 
 
 afternoon as I happened to be passing in their 
 direction. It was a house of forbidding splen- 
 dour, on the Fifth Avenue side of Central Park, 
 and, as I trod its marble halls, I could not 
 but repeat to myself: " Behold, the grocer's 
 dream ! " But I could make no criticism of 
 my reception by Mrs. Grossensteck and Teresa, 
 whom I found at home and -delighted to see me. 
 Mrs. Grossensteck was a stout, jolly, motherly 
 woman, common, of course, but, if you can 
 understand what I mean, common in a nice 
 way, and honest and unpretentious and likable. 
 Teresa, whom I had scarcely noticed on the 
 night of the accident, was a charmingly pretty 
 girl of eighteen, very chic and gay, with pleasant 
 manners and a contagious laugh. She had ar- 
 rived at obviously the turn of the Grossensteck 
 fortunes, and might, in refinement and every- 
 thing else, have belonged to another clay. How 
 often one sees that in America, the land above 
 others of social contrast, where, in the same 
 
 [147] 
 
L O V E THE FIDDLER 
 
 family, there are often three separate degrees 
 of caste. 
 
 Well, to get along with my visit. I liked 
 them and they liked me, and I returned later the 
 same evening to dine and meet papa. I found 
 him as impassionedly grateful as before, and 
 with a tale that trespassed even further on the 
 incredible, and after dinner we all sat around a 
 log fire and talked ourselves into a sort of inti- 
 macy. They were wonderfully good people, 
 and though we hadn't a word in common, nor an 
 idea, we somehow managed to hit it off, as one 
 often can with those who are unaffectedly 
 frank and simple. I had to cry over the death 
 of little Hermann in the steerage (when they 
 had first come to America twenty years ago), 
 and how Grossensteck had sneaked gingersnaps 
 from the slop-baskets of the saloon. 
 
 " The little teffil never knew where they come 
 from," said Grossensteck, " and so what mat- 
 ters it?" 
 
 [148] 
 
THE GOLDEN CASTAWAYS 
 
 " That's Papa's name in the slums," said 
 Teresa. " Uncle Gingersnaps, because at all 
 his stores they give away so many for noth- 
 ing." 
 
 " By Jove!" I said, " there are some nick- 
 names that are patents of nobility." 
 
 What impressed me as much as anything with 
 these people was their loneliness. Parvenus are 
 not always pushing and self-seeking, nor do they 
 invariably throw down the ladder by which 
 they have climbed. The Grossenstecks would 
 have been so well content to keep their old 
 friends, but poverty hides its head from the 
 glare of wealth and takes fright at altered con- 
 ditions. 
 
 " They come yes," said Mrs. Grossensteck, 
 " but they are scared of the fine house, of the 
 high-toned help, of everything being gold, you 
 know, and fashionable. And when Papa sends 
 their son to college, or gives the girl a little 
 stocking against her marriage day, they slink 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 away ashamed. Oh, Mr. Dundonald, but it's 
 hard to thank and be thanked, especially when 
 the favours are all of one side ! " 
 
 " The rich have efferyting," said Grossen- 
 steck, " but friends Neinl " 
 
 New ones had apparently never come to take 
 the places of the old; and the old had melted 
 away. Theirs was a life of solitary grandeur, 
 varied with dinner parties to their managers and 
 salesmen. Socially speaking, their house was a 
 desert island, and they themselves three casta- 
 ways on a golden rock, scanning the empty seas 
 for a sail. To carry on a metaphor, I might 
 say I was the sail and welcomed accordingly. I 
 was everything that they were not ; I was poor ; I 
 mixed with people whose names filled them with 
 awe ; my own was often given at first nights and 
 things of that sort. In New York, the least 
 snobbish of great cities, a man need have but a 
 dress suit and car-fare if he be the right kind 
 of a man, of course to go anywhere and hold 
 
THE GOLDEN CASTAWAYS 
 
 up his head with the best. In a place so uni- 
 versally rich, there is even a certain piquancy in 
 being a pauper. The Grossenstecks were over- 
 come to think I shined my own shoes, and had 
 to calculate my shirts, and the fact that I was 
 no longer young (that's the modern formula for 
 forty), and next-door to a failure in the art I 
 had followed for so many years, served to whet 
 their pity and their regard. My little trashy 
 love-stories seemed to them the fruits of genius, 
 and they were convinced, the poor simpletons, 
 that the big magazines were banded in a con- 
 spiracy to block my way to fame. 
 
 " My dear poy," said Grossensteck, " you 
 know as much of peeziness as a child unporne, 
 and I tell you it's the same efferywhere in 
 groceries, in hardware, in the alkali trade, in 
 effery branch of industry, the pig operators stand 
 shoulder to shoulder to spiflicate the little fellers 
 like you. You must combine with the other pro- 
 ducers ; you must line up and break through the 
 [15*1 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 ring; you must scare them out of their poots, 
 and, by Gott, I'll help you do it! " 
 
 In their naive interest in my fortunes, the 
 Grossenstecks rejoiced at an acceptance, and 
 were correspondingly depressed at my failures. 
 A fifteen-dollar poem would make them happy 
 for a week; and when some of my editors were 
 slow to pay on the literary frontiers there is a 
 great deal of this sort of procrastination Uncle 
 Gingersnaps was always hot to put the matter 
 into the hands of his collectors, and commence 
 legal proceedings in default. 
 
 Little by little I drifted into a curious inti- 
 macy with the Grossenstecks. Their house by 
 degrees became my refuge. I was given my own 
 suite of rooms, my own latch-key; I came and 
 went unremarked; and what I valued most of 
 all was that my privacy was respected, and no 
 one thought to intrude upon me when I closed 
 my door. In time I managed to alter the whole 
 house to my liking, and spent their money like 
 
THE GOLDEN CASTAWAYS 
 
 water in the process. Gorgeousness gave way 
 to taste; I won't be so fatuous as to say my 
 taste ; but mine was in conjunction with the best 
 decorators in New York. One was no longer 
 blinded by magnificence, but found rest and 
 peace and beauty. Teresa and I bought the 
 pictures. She was a wonderfully clever girl, 
 full of latent appreciation and understanding 
 which until then had lain dormant in her breast. 
 I quickened those unsuspected fires, and, though 
 I do not vaunt my own judgment as anything 
 extraordinary, it represented at least the con- 
 ventional standard and was founded on years of 
 observation and training. We let the old mas- 
 ters go as something too smudgy and recondite 
 for any but experts, learning our lesson over 
 one Correggio which nearly carried us into the 
 courts, and bought modern American instead, 
 amongst them some fine examples of our 
 best men. We had a glorious time doing it, 
 too, and showered the studios with golden 
 
 [153] 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 rain in some where it was evidently enough 
 needed. 
 
 There was something childlike in the Gros- 
 senstecks' confidence in me; I mean the old peo- 
 ple; for it was otherwise with Teresa, with 
 whom I often quarrelled over my artistic re- 
 forms, and who took any conflict in taste to 
 heart. There were whole days when she would 
 not speak to me at all, while I, on my side, was 
 equally obstinate, and all this, if you please, 
 about some miserable tapestry or a Louise Seize 
 chair or the right light for a picture of Will 
 Low's. But she was such a sweet girl and so 
 pretty that one could not be angry with her long, 
 and what with our fights and our makings up I 
 dare say we made it more interesting to each 
 other than if we had always agreed. It was 
 only once that our friendship was put in real 
 jeopardy, and that was when her parents decided 
 they could not die happy unless we made a 
 match of it. This was embarrassing for both 
 [154] 
 
THE GOLDEN CASTAWAYS 
 
 of us, and for a while she treated me very coldly. 
 But we had it out together one evening in the 
 library and decided to let the matter make no 
 difference to us, going on as before the best of 
 friends. I was the last person to expect a girl 
 of eighteen to care for a man of forty, partic- 
 ularly one like myself, ugly and grey-haired, 
 who had long before outworn the love of 
 women. In fact I had to laugh, one of those 
 sad laughs that come to us with the years, at the 
 thought of anything so absurd; and I soon got 
 her to give up her tragic pose and see the humour 
 of it all as I did. So we treated it as a joke, 
 rallied the old folks on their sentimental folly, 
 and let it pass. 
 
 It set me thinking, however, a great deal 
 about the girl and her future, and I managed to 
 make interest with several of my friends and get 
 her invited to some good houses. Of course it 
 was impossible to carry the old people into this 
 galere. They were frankly impossible, but 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 fortunately so meek and humble that it never 
 occurred to them to assert themselves or resent 
 their daughter going to places where they would 
 have been refused. Uncle Gingersnaps would 
 have paid money to stay at home, and Mrs. 
 Grossensteck had too much homely pride to put 
 herself in a false position. They saw indeed 
 only another reason to be grateful to me, and 
 another example of my surpassing kindness. 
 Pretty, by no means a fool, and gowned by the 
 best coutouri&res of Paris, Teresa made quite a 
 hit, and blossomed as girls do in the social sun- 
 shine. The following year, in the whirl of a 
 gay New York winter, one would scarcely have 
 recognised her as the same person. She had 
 " made good," as boys say, and had used my 
 stepping-stones to carry her far beyond my ken. 
 In her widening interests, broader range, and in- 
 creased worldly knowledge we became naturally 
 better friends than ever and met on the common 
 ground of those who led similar lives. What 
 
THE GOLDEN CASTAWAYS 
 
 man would not value the intimacy of a young, 
 beautiful, and clever woman? in some ways it is 
 better than love itself, for love is a duel, with 
 wounds given and taken, and its pleasures dearly 
 paid for. Between Teresa and myself there 
 was no such disturbing bond, and we were 
 at liberty to be altogether frank in our inter- 
 course. 
 
 One evening when I happened to be dining at 
 the house, the absence of her father and the in- 
 disposition of her mother left us tete-a-tte in the 
 smoking-room, whither she came to keep me 
 company with my cigar. I saw that she was 
 restless and with something on her mind to tell 
 me, but I was too old a stager to force a con- 
 fidence, least of all a woman's, and so I waited, 
 said nothing, and blew smoke rings. 
 
 " Hugo," she said, " there is something I wish 
 to speak to you about." 
 
 " I've known that for the last hour, Teresa," 
 I said. 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 14 This is something serious," she said, look- 
 ing at me strangely. 
 
 " Blaze away," I said. 
 
 " Hugo," she broke out, " you have been 
 borrowing money from my father." 
 
 I nodded. 
 
 " A great deal of money," she went on. 
 
 " For him no," I said. " For me well, 
 yes." 
 
 " Eight or nine hundred dollars," she said. 
 
 ;< Those are about the figures," I returned. 
 " Call it nine hundred." 
 
 " Oh, how could you ! How could you ! " 
 she exclaimed. 
 
 I remained silent. In fact I did not know 
 what to say. 
 
 " Don't you see the position you're putting 
 yourself in? " she said. 
 
 "Position?" I repeated. "What posi- 
 tion?" 
 
 " It's horrible, it's ignoble," she broke out. 
 [158] 
 
THE GOLDEN CASTAWAYS 
 
 " I have always admired you for the way you 
 kept yourself clear of such an ambiguous rela- 
 tion youVe known to the fraction of an inch 
 what to take, what to refuse to preserve your 
 self-respect my respect unimpaired. And 
 here I see you slipping into degradation. Oh, 
 Hugo ! I can't bear it." 
 
 "Is it such a crime to borrow a little money?" 
 I asked. 
 
 " Not if you pay it back," she returned. 
 " Not if you mean to pay it back. But you 
 know you can't. You know you won't! " 
 
 " You think it's the thin edge of the wedge? " 
 I said. " The beginning of the end and all 
 that kind of thing?" 
 
 " You will go on," she cried. " You will 
 become a dependent in this house, a hanger-on, 
 a sponger. I will hate you. You will hate 
 yourself. It went through me like a knife when 
 I found it out." 
 
 I smoked my cigar in silence. I suppose she 
 
 [159] 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 was quite right horribly right, though I didn't 
 like her any better for being so plain-spoken 
 about it. I felt myself turning red under her 
 gaze. 
 
 " What do you want me to do? " I said at 
 length. 
 
 " Pay it back," she said. 
 
 " I wish to God I could/' I said. " But you 
 know how I live, Teresa, hanging on by the 
 skin of my teeth hardly able to keep my head 
 above water, let alone having a dollar to spare." 
 
 " Then you can't pay," she said. 
 
 " I don't think I can," I returned. 
 
 " Then you ought to leave this house," she 
 said. 
 
 " You have certainly made it impossible for 
 me to stay, Teresa," I said. 
 
 " I want to make it impossible," she cried. 
 " You you don't understand you think I'm 
 cruel it's because I like you, Hugo it's be- 
 cause you're the one man I admire above any- 
 [160] 
 
THE GOLDEN CASTAWAYS 
 
 body in the world. I'd rather see you starving 
 than dishonoured." 
 
 " Thank you for your kind interest," I said 
 ironically. " Under the circumstances I am 
 almost tempted to wish you admired me less." 
 
 " Am I not right? " she demanded. 
 
 " Perfectly right," I returned. "Oh, yes! 
 Perfectly right." 
 
 " And you'll go," she said. 
 
 " Yes, I'll go," I said. 
 
 " And earn the money and pay father? " she 
 went on. 
 
 " And earn the money and pay father," I 
 repeated. 
 
 " And then come back? " she added. 
 
 " Never, never, never ! " I cried out. 
 
 I could see her pale under the lights. 
 
 " Oh, Hugo ! don't be so ungenerous," she 
 
 said. u Don't be so so " She hesitated, 
 
 apparently unable to continue. 
 
 " Ungenerous or not," I said, " damn the 
 [161] 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 words, Teresa, this isn't a time to weigh words. 
 It isn't in flesh and blood to come back. I can't 
 come back. Put yourself in my place." 
 
 " Some day you'll thank me," she said. 
 
 " Very possibly," I returned. " Nobody 
 knows what may not happen. It's conceivable, 
 of course, I might go down on my bended knees, 
 but really, from the way I feel at this moment, 
 I do not think it's likely." 
 
 " You want to punish me for liking you," she 
 said. 
 
 " Teresa," I said, " I have told you already 
 that you are right. You insist on saving me 
 from a humiliating position. I respect your 
 courage and your straightforwardness. You 
 remind me of an ancient Spartan having it out 
 with a silly ass of a stranger who took advan- 
 tage of her parents' good-nature. I am as little 
 vain, I think, as any man, and as free from petti- 
 ness and idiotic pride but you mustn't ask the 
 impossible. You mustn't expect the whipped 
 
THE GOLDEN CASTAWAYS 
 
 dog to come back. When I go it will be for 
 
 ever." 
 
 " Then go," she said, and looked me straight 
 in the eyes. 
 
 " I have only one thing to ask," I said. 
 " Smooth it over to your father and mother. 
 I am very fond of your father and mother, 
 Teresa; I don't want them to think I've acted 
 badly, or that I have ceased to care for them. 
 Tell them the necessary lies, you know." 
 
 " I will tell them," she said. 
 
 " Then good-bye," I said, rising. " I sup- 
 pose I am acting like a baby to feel so sore. 
 But I am hurt." 
 
 " Good-bye, Hugo," she said. 
 
 I went to the door and down the stairs. She 
 followed and stood looking after me the length 
 of the hall as I slowly put on my hat and coat. 
 That was the last I saw of her, in the shadow of 
 a palm, her girlish figure outlined against the 
 black behind. I walked into the street with a 
 [163] 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 heart like lead, and for the first time in my life 
 I began to feel I was growing old. 
 
 I have been from my youth up an easy-going 
 man, a drifter, a dawdler, always willing to put 
 off work for play. But for once I pulled my- 
 self together, looked things in the face, and put 
 my back to the wheel. I was determined to 
 repay that nine hundred dollars, if I had to cut 
 every dinner-party for the rest of the season. I 
 was determined to repay it, if I had to work as I 
 had never worked before. My first move was 
 to change my address. I didn't want Uncle 
 Gingersnaps ferreting me out, and Mrs. Gros- 
 sensteck weeping on my shoulder. My next was 
 to cancel my whole engagement book. My 
 third, to turn over my wares and to rack my head 
 for new ideas. 
 
 I had had a long-standing order from Gran- 
 ger's Weekly for a novelette. I had always 
 hated novelettes, as one had to wait so long for 
 
THE GOLDEN CASTAWAYS 
 one's money and then get so little; but in the 
 humour I then found myself I plunged into the 
 fray, if not with enthusiasm, at least with a 
 dogged perseverance that was almost as good. 
 Granger's Weekly liked triviality and di- 
 alogue, a lot of fuss about nothing and a happy 
 ending. I gave it to them in a heaping measure. 
 Dixie's Monthly, from which I had a short- 
 story order, set dialect above rubies. I didn't 
 know any dialect, but I borrowed a year's file 
 and learned it like a lesson. They wrote and 
 asked me for another on the strength of " The 
 Courting of Amandar Jane." The Perme- 
 ator was keen on Kipling and water, and I 
 gave it to them especially the water. Like all 
 Southern families the Dundonalds had once had 
 their day. I had travelled everywhere when I 
 was a boy, and so I accordingly refreshed my 
 dim memories with some modern travellers and 
 wrote a short series for The Little Gentleman: 
 " The Boy in the Carpathians," " The Boy in 
 [165] 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 Old Louisiana," " A Boy in the Tyrol," " A Boy 
 in London," " A Boy in Paris," " A Boy at the 
 Louvre," " A Boy in Corsica," " A Boy in the 
 Reconstruction." I reeled off about twenty of 
 them and sold them to advantage. 
 
 It was a terribly dreary task, and I had 
 moments of revolt when I stamped up and down 
 my little flat and felt like throwing my resolu- 
 tion to the winds. But I stuck tight to the ink- 
 bottle and fought the thing through. My 
 novelette, strange to say, was good. Written 
 against time and against inclination, it has always 
 been regarded since as the best thing I ever did, 
 and when published in book form outran three 
 editions. 
 
 I made a thundering lot of money for 
 me, I mean, and in comparison to my usual 
 income seldom under five hundred dollars a 
 month and often more. In eleven weeks I had 
 repaid Grossensteck and had a credit in the 
 bank. Nine hundred dollars has always re- 
 [166] 
 
THE GOLDEN CASTAWAYS 
 
 mained to me as a unit of value, a sum of 
 agonising significance not lightly to be spoken 
 of, the fruits of hellish industry and self-denial. 
 All this while I had had never a word from the 
 Grossenstecks. At least they wrote to me often 
 telephoned telegraphed and my box at the 
 club was choked with their letters. But I did 
 not open a single one of them, though I found a 
 pleasure in turning them over and over, and 
 wondering as to what was within them. There 
 were several in Teresa's fine hand, and these 
 interested me most of all and tantalised me un- 
 speakably. There was one of hers, cunningly 
 addressed to me in a stranger's writing that I 
 opened inadvertently ; but I at once perceived the 
 trick and had the strength of mind to throw it in 
 the fire unread. 
 
 Perhaps you will wonder at my childishness. 
 
 Sometimes I wondered at it myself. But the 
 
 wound still smarted, and something stronger 
 
 than I seemed to withhold me from again break- 
 
 [167] 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 ing the ice. Besides, those long lonely days, 
 and those nights, almost as long in the retro- 
 spect, when I lay sleepless on my bed, had 
 shown me I had been drifting into another peril 
 no less dangerous than dependence. I had been 
 thinking too much of the girl for my own good, 
 and our separation had brought me to a sudden 
 realisation of how deeply I was beginning to 
 care for her. I hated her, too, the pitiless 
 wretch, so there was a double reason for me not 
 to go back. 
 
 One night as I had dressed to dine out and 
 stepped into the street, looking up at the snow 
 that hid the stars and silenced one's footsteps on 
 the pavement, a woman emerged from the 
 gloom, and before I knew what she was doing, 
 had caught my arm. I shook her off, thinking 
 her a beggar or something worse, and would 
 have passed on my way had she not again 
 struggled to detain me. I stopped, and was on 
 the point of roughly ordering her to let me go, 
 [168] 
 
THE GOLDEN CASTAWAYS 
 
 when I looked down into her veiled face and 
 saw that it was Teresa Grossensteck. 
 
 " Hugo ! " she said. "Hugo!" 
 
 I could only repeat her name and regard her 
 helplessly. 
 
 " Hugo," she said, " I am cold. Take me 
 upstairs. I am chilled through and through." 
 
 "Oh, but Teresa," I expostulated, "it 
 wouldn't be right. You know it wouldn't be 
 right. You might be seen." 
 
 She laid her hand, her ungloved, icy hand, 
 against my cheek. 
 
 " I have been here an hour," she said. 
 " Take me to your rooms. I am freezing." 
 
 I led her up the stairs and to my little apart- 
 ment. I seated her before the fire, turned up 
 the lights, and stood and looked at her. 
 
 "What have you come here for?" I said. 
 "I've paid your father paid him a month ago." 
 
 She made no answer, but spread her hands 
 before the fire and shivered in the glow. She 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 kept her eyes fixed on the coals in front of her 
 and put out the tips of her little slippered feet. 
 Then I perceived that she was in a ball gown and 
 that her arms were bare under her opera cloak. 
 
 At last she broke the silence. 
 
 " How cheerless your room is," she said, 
 looking about. " Oh, how cheerless! " 
 
 " Did you come here to tell me that? " I said. 
 
 " No," she said. " I don't know why I came. 
 Because I was a fool, I suppose a fool to think 
 you'd want to see me. Take me home, Hugo." 
 She rose as she said this and looked towards the 
 door. I pressed her to take a little whiskey, for 
 she was still as cold as death and as white as the 
 snow queen in Hans Andersen's tale, but she 
 refused to let me give her any. 
 
 " Take me home, please," she repeated. 
 
 Her carriage was waiting a block away. 
 Hendricks, the footman, received my order with 
 impassivity and shut us in together with the un- 
 concern of a good servant. It was dark in the 
 [ 170] 
 
THE GOLDEN CASTAWAYS 
 
 carriage, and neither of us spoke as we whirled 
 through the snowy streets. Once the lights of a 
 passing hansom illumined my companion's face 
 and I saw that she was crying. It pleased me 
 to see her suffer; she had cost me eleven weeks 
 of misery; why should she escape scot-free! 
 
 " Hugo," she said, " are you coming back to 
 us, Hugo?" 
 
 " I don't know," I said. 
 
 " Why don't you know? " she asked. 
 
 "Oh, because!" I said. 
 
 " That's no answer," she said. 
 
 There was a pause. 
 
 " I was beginning to care too much about 
 you," I said. " I think I was beginning to fall 
 hi love with you. I've got out of one false 
 position. Why should I blunder into another? " 
 
 " Would it be a false position to love me? " 
 she said. 
 
 " Of course that would a good deal depend 
 on you," I said. 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 " Suppose I wanted you to," she said. 
 
 " Oh, but you couldn't! " I said. 
 
 "Why couldn't I? "she said. 
 
 " But forty," I objected; " nobody loves any- 
 body who's forty, you know." 
 
 " I do," she said, " though, come to think of 
 it, you were thirty-nine when when it first 
 happened, Hugo." 
 
 I put out my arms in the dark and caught her 
 to me. I could not believe my own good fortune 
 as I felt her trembling and crying against my 
 breast. I was humbled and ashamed. It was 
 like a dream. An old fellow like me forty, 
 you know. 
 
 " It was a mighty near thing, Teresa," I said. 
 
 " I guess it was for me ! " she said. 
 
 " I meant myself, sweetheart," I said. 
 
 " For both of us then," she said, in a voice 
 between laughter and tears, and impulsively put 
 her arms round my neck. 
 
THE AWAKENING OF GEORGE 
 RAYMOND 
 
THE AWAKENING OF GEORGE 
 RAYMOND 
 
 I 
 
 GEORGE RAYMOND'S father had 
 been a rich man, rich in those days 
 before the word millionaire had been 
 invented, and when a modest hundred thousand, 
 lent out at an interest varying from ten to fifteen 
 per cent, brought in an income that placed its 
 possessor on the lower steps of affluence. He 
 was the banker of a small New Jersey town, a 
 man of portentous respectability, who proffered 
 two fingers to his poorer clients and spoke about 
 the weather as though it belonged to him. 
 When the school-children read of Croesus in 
 their mythology, it was Jacob Raymond they 
 saw in their mind's eye; such expressions as 
 " rich beyond the dreams of avarice " suggested 
 
 [175] 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 him as inevitably as pumpkin did pie; they 
 wondered -doubtfully about him in church when 
 that unfortunate matter of the camel was 
 brought up with its attendant difficulties for the 
 wealthy. Even Captain Kidd's treasure, in 
 those times so actively sought for along the 
 whole stretch of the New England coast, con- 
 jured up a small brick building with " Jacob 
 Raymond, Banker " in gilt letters above the lin- 
 tel of the door. 
 
 But there came a day when that door stayed 
 locked and a hundred white faces gathered about 
 it, blocking the village street and talking in 
 whispers though the noonday sun was shining. 
 Raymond's bank was insolvent, and the banker 
 himself, a fugitive in tarry sea clothes, was haul- 
 ing ropes on a vessel outward bound for Callao. 
 He might have stayed in Middleborough and 
 braved it out, for he had robbed no man and his 
 personal honour was untarnished, having suc- 
 cumbed without dishonesty to primitive methods 
 
THE AWAKEN ING 
 
 and lack of capital. But he chose instead the 
 meaner course of flight. Of all the reproachful 
 faces he left behind him his wife's was the one 
 he felt himself the least able to confront; and 
 thus, abandoning everything, with hardly a 
 dozen dollars in his pocket, he slipped away to 
 sea, never to be seen or heard of again. 
 
 Mrs. Raymond was a woman of forty-five, a 
 New Englander to her finger-tips, proud, ar- 
 rogant, and fiercely honest; a woman who never 
 forgot, never forgave, and who practised her 
 narrow Christianity with the unrelentingness of 
 an Indian. She lived up to an austere standard 
 herself, and woe betide those who fell one whit 
 behind her. She was one of those just persons 
 who would have cast the first stone at the dic- 
 tates of conscience and with a sort of holy joy 
 in her own fitness to do so. For years she had 
 been the richest woman in Middleborough, the 
 head of everything charitable and religious, the 
 mainstay of ministers, the court of final appeal 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 in the case of sinners and backsliders. Now, in 
 a moment, through no fault of her own, the 
 whole fabric of her life had crumbled. Again 
 had the mighty fallen. 
 
 She had not a spark of pity for her husband. 
 To owe what you could not pay was to her the 
 height of dishonour. It was theft, and she had 
 no compunction in giving it the name, however 
 it might be disguised or palliated. She could 
 see no mitigating circumstances in Raymond's 
 disgrace, and the fact that she was innocently 
 involved in his downfall filled her with exaspera- 
 tion. The big old corner house was her own. 
 She had been born in it. It had been her mar- 
 riage portion from her father. She put it 
 straightway under the hammer; her canal stock 
 with it; her furniture and linen; a row of five 
 little cottages on the outskirts of the town where 
 five poor families had found not only that their 
 bodies, but the welfare of their souls, had been 
 confided to her grim keeping. She stripped her- 
 [178] 
 
THE AWAKE NING 
 
 self of everything, and when all had been made 
 over to the creditors there still remained a 
 deficit of seventeen hundred dollars. This debt 
 which was not a debt, for she was under no legal 
 compulsion to pay a penny of it, would willingly 
 have been condoned by men already grateful for 
 her generosity; but she would hear of no such 
 compromise, not even that her notes be free of 
 interest, and she gave them at five per cent, 
 resolute that in time she would redeem them to 
 the uttermost farthing. 
 
 Under these sudden changes of fortune it is 
 seldom that the sufferer remains amid the ruins 
 of past prosperity. The human instinct is to fly 
 and hide. The wound heals more readily 
 amongst strangers. The material evils of life 
 are never so intolerable as the public loss of 
 caste. It may be said that it is people, not 
 things, which cause most of the world's un- 
 happiness. Mrs. Raymond came to New York, 
 where she had not a friend except the son she 
 [ 179] 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 brought with her, there to set herself with an 
 undaunted heart to earn the seventeen hundred 
 dollars she had voluntarily taken on her shoul- 
 ders to repay. 
 
 George Raymond, her son, was then a boy of 
 fifteen. High-strung, high-spirited, with all the 
 seriousness of a youngster who had prematurely 
 learned to think for himself, he had arrived at 
 the age when ineffaceable impressions are made 
 and the tendencies of a lifetime decided. Pas- 
 sionately attached to his father, he had lost him 
 in a way that would have made death seem 
 preferable. He saw his mother, so shortly 
 before the great lady of a little town, working 
 out like a servant in other people's houses. The 
 tragedy of it all ate into his soul and overcame 
 him with a sense of hopelessness and despair. 
 It would not have been so hard could he have 
 helped, even in a small way, towards the re- 
 covery of their fortunes; but his mother, faithful 
 even in direst poverty to her New England 
 [180] 
 
THE AWAKE NING 
 
 blood, sent him to school, determined that at 
 any sacrifice he should finish his education. But 
 by degrees Mrs. Raymond drifted into another 
 class of work. She became a nurse, and, in a 
 situation where her conscientiousness was in- 
 valuable, slowly established a connection that in 
 time kept her constantly busy. She won the 
 regard of an important physician, and not only 
 won it but kept it, and thus little by little found 
 her way into good houses, where she was highly 
 paid and treated with consideration. 
 
 Had it not been for the seventeen hundred 
 dollars and the five per cent interest upon it, she 
 could have earned enough to keep herself and 
 her son very comfortable in the three rooms they 
 occupied on Seventh Street. But this debt, ever 
 present in the minds of both mother and son, 
 hung over them like a cloud and took every 
 penny there was to spare. Those two years 
 from fifteen to seventeen were the most terrible 
 in Raymond's life. At an age when he possessed 
 [181] 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 neither philosophy nor knowledge and yet the 
 fullest capacity to suffer, he had to bear, with 
 what courage he could muster, the crudest buf- 
 fets of an adverse fate. 
 
 Raymond drudged at his books, passed from 
 class to class and returned at night to the empty 
 rooms he called home, where he cooked his own 
 meals and sat solitary beside the candle until it 
 was the hour for bed. His mother was seldom 
 there to greet him. As a nurse she was kept 
 prisoner, for weeks at a time, in the houses where 
 she was engaged. It meant much to the boy to 
 find a note from her lying on the table when he 
 returned at night; more still to wait at street 
 corners in his shabby overcoat for those appoint- 
 ments she often made with him. When she 
 took infectious cases and dared neither write nor 
 speak to him, they had an hour planned before- 
 hand when she would smile at him from an open 
 window and wave her hand. 
 
 But she was not invariably busy. There were 
 [182] 
 
THE AWAKENING 
 
 intervals between her engagements when she re- 
 mained at home; when those rooms, ordinarily 
 so lonely and still, took on a wonderful bright- 
 ness with her presence ; when Raymond, coming 
 back from school late in the afternoon, ran along 
 the streets singing, as he thought of his mother 
 awaiting him. This stern woman, the harsh 
 daughter of a harsh race, had but a single streak 
 of tenderness in her withered heart. To her 
 son she gave transcendent love, and the whole of 
 her starved nature went out to him in im- 
 measurable devotion. Their poverty, the 
 absence of all friends, the burden of debt, the 
 unacknowledged disgrace, and (harder still to 
 bear) the long and enforced separations from 
 each other, all served to draw the pair into the 
 closest intimacy. Raymond grew towards man- 
 hood without ever having met a girl of his own 
 age; without ever having had a chum; without 
 knowing the least thing of youth save much of 
 its green-sickness and longing. 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 When the great debt had been paid off and 
 the last of the notes cancelled there came no cor- 
 responding alleviation of their straitened cir- 
 cumstances. Raymond had graduated from the 
 High School and was taking the medical course 
 at Columbia University. Every penny was put 
 by for the unavoidable expenses of his tuition. 
 The mother, shrewd, ambitious, and far-seeing, 
 was staking everything against the future, and 
 was wise enough to sacrifice the present in order 
 to launch her son into a profession. In those 
 days fresh air had not been discovered. 
 Athletics, then in their infancy, were regarded 
 much as we now do prize-fighting. The ideal 
 student was a pale individual who wore out the 
 night with cold towels around his head, and who 
 had a bigger appetite for books than for meat. 
 Docile, unquestioning, knowing no law but his 
 mother's wish ; eager to earn her commendation 
 and to repay with usury the immense sacrifices 
 she had made for him, Raymond worked him- 
 
THE AWAKENING 
 
 self to a shadow with study, and at nineteen was 
 a tall, thin, narrow-shouldered young man with 
 sunken cheeks and a preternatural whiteness of 
 complexion. 
 
 He was far from being a bad-looking fellow, 
 however. He had beautiful blue eyes, more like 
 a girl's than a man's, and there was something 
 earnest and winning in his face that often got 
 him a shy glance on the street from passing 
 women. His acquaintance in this direction went 
 no further. Many times when a college acquaint- 
 ance would have included him in some little 
 party, his mother had peremptorily refused to 
 let him go. Her face would darken with jealousy 
 and anger, nor was she backward with a string 
 of reasons for her refusal. It would unsettle 
 him; he had no money to waste on girls; he 
 would be shamed by his shabby clothes and un- 
 gloved hands; they would laugh at him behind 
 his back; was he tired, then, of his old mother 
 who had worked so hard to bring him up 
 [185] 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 decently? And so on and so on, until, without 
 knowing exactly why, Raymond would feel him- 
 self terribly in the wrong, and was glad enough 
 at last to be forgiven on the understanding that 
 he would never propose such a reprehensible 
 thing again. 
 
 In any other young man, brought up in the 
 ordinary way, with the ordinary advantages, 
 such submission would have seemed mean- 
 spirited; but the bond between these two was 
 riveted with memories of penury and privation; 
 any appeal to those black days brought Ray- 
 mond on his knees; it was intolerable to him 
 that he should ever cause a pang in his dear 
 mother's breast. Thus, at the age when the 
 heart is hungriest for companionship ; when for 
 the first time a young man seems to discover the 
 existence of a hitherto unknown and unimpor- 
 tant sex; when an inner voice urges him to take 
 his place in the ranks and keep step with 
 the mighty army of his generation, Raymond 
 [186] 
 
THE AWAKENING 
 
 was doomed to walk alone, a wistful outcast, 
 regarding his enviable companions from 
 afar. 
 
 He was in his second year at college when his 
 studies were broken off by his mother's illness. 
 He was suddenly called home to find her delir- 
 ious in bed, struck down in the full tide of 
 strength by the disease she had taken from a 
 patient. It was scarlet fever, and when it had 
 run its course the doctor took him to one side 
 and told him that his mother's nursing days were 
 over. During her tedious convalescence, as 
 Raymond would sit beside her bed and read 
 aloud to her, their eyes were constantly meeting 
 in unspoken apprehension. They saw the 
 ground, so solid a month before, now crumbling 
 beneath their feet; their struggles, their make- 
 shifts, their starved and meagre life had all been 
 in vain. Their little savings were gone; the 
 breadwinner, tempting fate once too often, had 
 received what was to her worse than a mortal 
 [187] 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 wound, for the means of livelihood had been 
 taken from her. 
 
 " Could I have but died," she repeated to her- 
 self. " Oh, could I have but died ! " 
 
 Raymond laid his head against the coverlet 
 and sobbed. He needed no words to tell him 
 what was in her mind; that her illness had used 
 up the little money there was to spare ; that she, 
 so long the support of both, was now a helpless 
 burden on his hands. Pity for her outweighed 
 every other consideration. His own loss seemed 
 but little in comparison to hers. It was the con- 
 cluding tragedy of those five tragic years. The 
 battle, through no fault of theirs, had gone 
 against them. The dream of a professional 
 career was over. 
 
 His mother grew better. The doctor ceased 
 his visits. She was able to get on her feet again. 
 She took over their pinched housekeeping. 
 But her step was heavy; the gaunt, grim 
 straight-backed woman, with her thin grey hair 
 [188] 
 
THE AWAKENING 
 
 and set mouth, was no more than a spectre of 
 her former self. The doctor was right. There 
 was nothing before her but lifelong invalidism. 
 
 Raymond found work; a place in the auditing 
 department of a railroad, with a salary to begin 
 with of sixty dollars a month; in ten years he 
 might hope to get a hundred. But he was one 
 of those whose back bent easily to misfortune. 
 Heaven knew, he had been schooled long enough 
 to take its blows with fortitude. His mother 
 and he could manage comfortably on sixty dol- 
 lars a month ; and when he laid his first earnings 
 in her hand he even smiled with satisfaction. 
 She took the money in silence, her heart too full 
 to ask him whence it came. She had hoped 
 against hope until that moment; and the bills, 
 as she looked at them, seemed to sting her 
 shrivelled hand. 
 
 One day, as she was cleaning her son's room, 
 she opened a box that stood in the corner, and 
 was surprised to find it contain a package done 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 up in wrapping paper. She opened it with 
 curiosity and the tears sprang to her eyes as she 
 saw the second-hand medical books George had 
 used at college. Here they were, in neat wrap- 
 pers, laid by for ever. Too precious to throw 
 away, too articulate of unfulfilled ambitions to 
 stand exposed on shelves, they had been laid 
 away in the grave of her son's hopes. She did 
 them up again with trembling fingers, and that 
 night when George returned to supper, he found 
 his mother in the dark, crying. 
 
 II 
 
 In the years from nineteen to rorty-two most 
 men have fulfilled their destiny ; those who have 
 had within them the ability to rise have risen; 
 the weak, the wastrels, the mediocrities have 
 shaken down into their appointed places. Even 
 the bummer has his own particular bit of wall 
 in front of the saloon and his own particular 
 chair within. Those who have something to do 
 C 190 ] 
 
THE AWAKENING 
 
 are busy doing it, whatever it may be. In the 
 human comedy everyone in time finds his role 
 and must play it to the end, happy indeed if he 
 be cast in a part that at all suits him. 
 
 George Raymond at forty-two was still in the 
 auditor's department of the New York Central. 
 Time had wrinkled his cheek, had turned his 
 brown hair to a crisp grey, had bowed his 
 shoulders to the desk he had used for twenty-two 
 years. His eyes alone retained their boyish 
 brightness, and a sort of appealing look as of 
 one who his whole life long had been a depend- 
 ent on other people. As an automaton, a 
 mere cog in a vast machine, he had won the 
 praise of his superiors by his complete self- 
 effacement. He was never ill, never absent, 
 never had trouble with his subordinates, never 
 talked back, never made complaints, and, in the 
 flattering language of the superintendent, " he 
 knew what he knew ! " 
 
 In the office, as in every other aggregation of 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 human beings, there were coteries, cliques, 
 friendships and hatreds, jealousies, heart-burn- 
 ings and vendettas. There was scarcely a man 
 there without friends or foes. Raymond alone 
 had neither. To the others he was a strange, 
 silent, unknown creature whose very address was 
 a matter of conjecture; a man who did. not drink, 
 did not smoke, did not talk; who ate four 
 bananas for his lunch and invariably carried a 
 book in the pocket of his shabby coat. It was 
 said of him that once, during a terrible blizzard, 
 he had been the only clerk to reach the office; 
 that he had worked there stark alone until one 
 o'clock, when at the stroke of the hour he had 
 taken out his four bananas and his book ! There 
 were other stories about him of the same kind, 
 not all of them true to fate, but essentially true 
 of the man's nature and of his rigid adherence 
 to routine. He had risen, place by place, to a 
 position that gave him a hundred and fifty dol- 
 lars a month, and one so responsible that his 
 [ 192] 
 
THE AWAKENING 
 
 death or absence would have dislocated the office 
 for half a day. 
 
 " A first-class man and an authority on pro 
 ratas! " 
 
 Such might have been the inscription on 
 George Raymond's tomb ! 
 
 His mother was still alive. She had never 
 entirely regained her health or her strength, and 
 it took all the little she had of either to do the 
 necessary housekeeping for herself and her son. 
 Thin to emaciation, sharp-tongued, a tyrant to 
 her finger-tips, her indomitable spirit remained 
 as uncowed as ever and she ruled her son with a 
 rod of iron. To her, Georgie, as she always 
 called him, was still a child. As far as she was 
 concerned he had never grown up. She took 
 his month's salary, told him when to buy new 
 shirts, ordered his clothes herself, doled out 
 warningly the few dollars for his necessaries, 
 and saved, saved, continually saved. The old 
 woman dreaded poverty with a horror not to be 
 
 [193] 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 expressed in words. It had ruined her own 
 life; it had crushed her son under its merciless 
 wheels; in the words of the proverb, she was the 
 coward who died a thousand deaths in the 
 agonies of apprehension. She was one of those 
 not uncommon misers, who hoard, not for love 
 of money, but through fear. She had managed, 
 with penurious thrift and a self-denial almost 
 sublime in its austerity, to set aside eight thou- 
 sand dollars. Eight thousand dollars from an 
 income that began at sixty and rose to a little 
 under three times that amount! Eight thou- 
 sand dollars, wrung from their lives at the 
 price of every joy, every alleviation, every- 
 thing that could make the world barely toler- 
 able. 
 
 Every summer Raymond had a two-weeks' 
 holiday, which he spent at Middleborough with 
 some relatives of his father's. He had the 
 pronounced love of the sea that is usual with 
 those born and bred in seaport towns. His 
 [ 194] 
 
THE AWAKENING 
 
 earliest memories went back to great deep-water 
 ships, their jib-booms poking into the second- 
 story windows of the city front, their decks 
 hoarsely melodious with the yo-heave-yo of 
 straining seamen. The smell of tar, the sight 
 of enormous anchors impending above the nar- 
 row street, the lofty masts piercing the sky in a 
 tangle of ropes and blocks, the exotic cargoes 
 mountains high all moved him like a poem. 
 He knew no pleasure like that of sailing his cou- 
 sin's sloop; he loved every plank of her dainty 
 hull; it was to him a privilege to lay his hand to 
 any task appertaining to her, however humble 
 or hard. To calk, to paint, to polish brass- 
 work; to pump out bilge; to set up the rigging; 
 to sit cross-legged and patch sails; and, best of 
 all, to put her lee rail under in a spanking breeze 
 and race her seaward against the mimic fleet 
 Ah, how swiftly those bright days passed, how 
 bitter was the parting and the return, all too 
 soon, to the dingy offices of the railroad. 
 
 [195] 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 It never occurred to him to think his own lot 
 hard, or to contrast himself with other men of 
 his age, who at forty-two were mostly substan- 
 tial members of society, with interests, obliga- 
 tions, responsibilities, to which he himself was 
 an utter stranger. Under the iron bondage of 
 his mother he had remained a child. To dis- 
 please her seemed the worst thing that could 
 befall him; to win her commendation filled him 
 with content. But there were times, guiltily re- 
 membered and put by with shame, when he 
 longed for something more from life; when the 
 sight of a beautiful woman on the street re- 
 minded him of his own loneliness and isolation; 
 when he was overcome with a sudden surging 
 sense that he was an outsider in the midst of 
 these teeming thousands, unloved and old, with- 
 out friends or hope or future to look forward to. 
 He would reproach himself for such lawless re- 
 pining, for such disloyalty to his mother. Was 
 not her case worse than his? Did she not lee- 
 
THE AWAKENING 
 
 ture him on the duty of cheerfulness, she the 
 invalid, racked with pains, with nerves, who 
 practised so pitifully what she preached? The 
 tears would come to his eyes. No, he would 
 not ask the impossible; he would go his way, 
 brave and uncomplaining, and let the empty 
 years roll over his head without a murmur 
 against fate. 
 
 But the years, apparently so void, were screen- 
 ing a strange and undreamed-of part for him to 
 play. The Spaniards, a vague, almost legend- 
 ary people, as remote from Raymond's life as the 
 Assamese or the cliff-dwellers of New Mexico, 
 began to take on a concrete character, and were 
 suddenly discovered to be the enemies of the 
 human race. Raymond grew accustomed to the 
 sight of Cuban flags, at first so unfamiliar, and 
 then, later, so touching in their significance. 
 Newspaper pictures of Gomez and Garcia were 
 tacked on the homely walls of barber-shops, in 
 railroad shops, in grubby offices and cargo eleva- 
 [197] 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 tors, and with them savage caricatures of a per- 
 son called Weyler, and referring bitterly to 
 other persons (who seemed in a bad way) called 
 the reconcentrados. Raymond wondered what 
 it was all about; bought books to elucidate the 
 matter; took fire with indignation and resent- 
 ment. Then came the Maine affair; the sus- 
 pense of seventy million people eager to avenge 
 their dead; the decision of the court of inquiry; 
 the emergency vote; the preparation for war. 
 Raymond watched it all with a curious detach- 
 ment. He never realised that it could have 
 anything personally to do with him. The long 
 days in the auditor's department went on undis- 
 turbed for all that the country was arming and 
 the State governors were calling out their quotas 
 of men. Two of his associates quitted their 
 desks and changed their black coats for army 
 blue. Raymond admired them; envied them; 
 but it never occurred to him to ask why they 
 should go and he should stay. It was natural 
 [198] 
 
THE AWAKENING 
 
 for him to stay; it was inevitable; he was as 
 much a part of the office as the office floor. 
 
 One afternoon, going home on the Elevated, 
 he overheard two men talking. 
 
 " I don't know what we'll do," said one. 
 
 " Oh, there are lots of men," said the other. 
 
 " Men, yes but no sailors," said the first. 
 
 " That's right," said the other. 
 
 " We are at our wits' end to man the new 
 ships," said the first. 
 
 "What did you total up to-day?" said the 
 other. 
 
 His companion shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 " Eighty applicants, and seven taken," he 
 said. 
 
 " And those foreigners? " 
 
 "All but two!" 
 
 " There's danger in that kind of thing! " 
 
 " Yes, indeed, but what can you do? " 
 
 The words rang in Raymond's head. That 
 night he hardly slept. He was in the throes of 
 [ 199] 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 making a tremendous resolution, he who, for 
 forty years, had been tied to his mother's apron 
 string. Making it of his own volition, un- 
 prompted, at the behest of no one save, perhaps, 
 the man in the car, asserting at last his manhood 
 in defiance of the subjection that had never come 
 home to him until that moment. He rose in 
 the morning, pale and determined. He felt a 
 hypocrite through and through as his mother 
 commented on his looks and grew anxious as 
 he pushed away his untasted breakfast. It came 
 over him afresh how good she was, how tender. 
 He did not love her less because his great pur- 
 pose had been taken. He knew how she would 
 suffer, and the thought of it racked his heart; 
 he was tempted to take her into his confidence, 
 but dared not, distrusting his own powers of re- 
 sistance were she to say no. So he kissed her 
 instead, with greater warmth than usual, and 
 left the house with misty eyes. 
 
 He got an extension of the noon hour and 
 [ 200] 
 
THE AWAKENING 
 
 hurried down to the naval recruiting office. It 
 was doing a brisk business in turning away ap- 
 plicants, and from the bottom of the line Ray- 
 mond was not kept waiting long before he at- 
 tained the top ; and from thence in his turn was 
 led into an inner office. He was briefly exam- 
 ined as to his sea experience. Could he box the 
 compass? He could. Could he make a long 
 splice? He could. What was meant by the 
 monkey-gaff of a full-rigged ship? He told 
 them. What was his reason in wanting to join 
 the Navy? Because he thought he'd like to do 
 something for his country. Very good; turn 
 him over to the doctor ; next ! Then the doctor 
 weighed him, looked at his teeth, hit him in the 
 chest, listened to his heart, thumped and ques- 
 tioned him, and then passed him on to a third 
 person to be enrolled. 
 
 When George Raymond emerged into the 
 open air it was as a full A B in the service of 
 the United States 
 
 [201] 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 This announcement at the office made an ex- 
 traordinary sensation. Men he hardly knew 
 shook hands with him and clapped him on the 
 back. He was taken upstairs to be impressively 
 informed that his position would be held open 
 for him. On every side he saw kindling faces, 
 smiling glances of approbation, the quick pass- 
 ing of the news in whispers. He had suddenly 
 risen from obscurity to become part of the War; 
 the heir of a wonderful and possibly tragic 
 future ; a patriot ; a hero ! It was a bewildering 
 experience and not without its charm. He was 
 surprised to find himself still the same man. 
 
 The scene at home was less enthusiastic. It 
 was even mortifying, and Georgie, as his mother 
 invariably called him, had to endure a storm of 
 sarcasm and reproaches. The old woman's ar- 
 dent patriotism stopped short at giving up her 
 son. It was the duty of others to fight, 
 Georgie's to stay at home with his mother. He 
 let her talk herself out, saying little, but 
 [ 202 ] 
 
THE AWAKENING 
 
 regarding her with a grave, kind obstinacy. 
 Then she broke down, weeping and clinging to 
 him. Somehow, though he could hardly explain 
 it to himself, the relation between the two under- 
 went a change. He left that house the un- 
 questioned master of himself, the acknowledged 
 head of that tiny household; he had won, and 
 his victory instead of abating by a hair's-breadth 
 his mother's love for him had drawn the pair 
 closer to each other than ever before. Though 
 she had no articulate conception of it Georgie 
 had risen enormously in his mother's respect. 
 The woman had given way to the man, and the 
 eternal fitness of things had been vindicated. 
 
 Her tenderness and devotion were redoubled. 
 Never had there been such a son in the history of 
 the world. She relaxed her economies in order 
 to buy him little delicacies, such as sardines 
 and pickles; and when soon after his enlistment 
 his uniform came home she spread it on her bed 
 and cried, and then sank on her knees, passion- 
 [203] 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 ately kissing the coarse serge. In the limitation 
 of her horizon she could see but a single figure. 
 It was Georgie's country, Georgie's President, 
 Georgie's fleet, Georgie's righteous quarrel in 
 the cause of stifled freedom. To her, it was 
 Georgie's war with Spain. 
 
 He was drafted aboard the Dixie, where, 
 within a week of his joining, he was promoted 
 to be one of the four quartermasters. So much 
 older than the majority of his comrades, quick, 
 alert, obedient, and responsible, be was naturally 
 amongst the first chosen for what are called 
 leading seamen. Never was a man more in his 
 element than George Raymond. He shook 
 down into naval life like one born to it. The 
 sea was in his blood, and his translation from 
 the auditor's department to the deck of a fight- 
 ing ship seemed to him like one of those happy 
 dreams when one pinches himself to try and 
 confirm the impossible. Metaphorically speak- 
 ing, he was always pinching himself and con- 
 [204] 
 
THE AWAKENING 
 
 trasting the monotonous past with the glorious 
 and animated present. The change told in his 
 manner, in the tilt of his head, in his fearless 
 eyes and straighter back. It comes natural 
 to heroes to protrude their chests and walk upon 
 air; and it is pardonable, indeed, in war time, 
 when each feels himself responsible for a frac- 
 tion of his country's honour. 
 
 " Georgie, you are positively becoming hand- 
 some," said his mother. 
 
 Amongst Raymond's comrades on the Dixie 
 was a youngster of twenty-one, named Howard 
 Quintan. Something attracted him in the boy, 
 and he went out of his way to make things 
 smooth for him aboard. The liking was no less 
 cordially returned, and the two became fast 
 friends. One day, when they were both given 
 liberty together, Howard insisted on taking him 
 to his own home. 
 
 "The folks want to know you," he said. 
 ' They naturally think a heap of you because I 
 [205] 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 do, and I've told them how good you've been 
 and all that." 
 
 44 Oh, rubbish ! " said Raymond, though he 
 was inwardly pleased. At the time they were 
 walking up Fifth Avenue, both in uniform, with 
 their caps on one side, sailor fashion, and their 
 wide trousers flapping about their ankles. 
 People looked at them kindly as they passed, 
 for the shadow of the war lay on everyone and 
 all hearts went out to the men who were to up- 
 hold the flag. Raymond was flattered and yet 
 somewhat overcome by the attention his com- 
 panion and he excited. 
 
 " Let's get out of this, Quint," he said. " I 
 can't walk straight when people look at me like 
 that. Don't you feel kind of givey-givey at 
 the knees with all those pretty girls loving us in 
 advance?" 
 
 11 Oh, that's what I like ! " said Quintan. " I 
 never got a glance when I used to sport a silk 
 hat. Besides, here we are at the old stand ! " 
 [206] 
 
THE AWAKENING 
 
 Raymond regarded him with blank surprise 
 as they turned aside and up the steps of one of 
 the houses. 
 
 "Land's sake!" he exclaimed; "you don't 
 mean to say you live in a place like this? 
 Here?" he added, with an intonation that 
 caused Howard to burst out laughing. 
 
 The young fellow pushed by the footman 
 that admitted them and ran up the stairs three 
 steps at a time. Raymond followed more 
 slowly, dazed by the splendour he saw about him, 
 and feeling horribly embarrassed and deserted. 
 He halted on the stairs as he saw Quintan 
 throw his arms about a tall, stately, magnificently 
 dressed woman and kiss her boisterously; and 
 he was in two minds whether or not to slink 
 down again and disappear, when his companion 
 called out to him to hurry up. 
 
 " Mother, this is Mr. Raymond," he said. 
 " He's the best friend I have on the Dixie, and 
 you're to be awfully good to him ! " 
 [207] 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 Mrs. Quintan graciously gave him her hand 
 and said something about his kindness to her 
 boy. Raymond was too stricken to speak and 
 was thankful for the semi-darkness that hid his 
 face. Mrs. Quintan continued softly, in the 
 same sweet and overpowering manner, to purr 
 her gratitude and try to put him at his ease. 
 Raymond would have been a happy man could 
 he have sunk though the parquetry floor. He 
 trembled as he was led into the drawing-room, 
 where another gracious and overpowering 
 creature rose to receive them. 
 
 " My aunt, Miss Christine Latimer," said 
 Howard. 
 
 She was younger than Mrs. Quintan; a tall, 
 fair woman of middle age, with a fine figure, 
 hair streaked with grey, and the remains of what 
 had once been extreme beauty. Her voice was 
 the sweetest Raymond had ever listened to, and 
 his shyness and agitation wore off as she began 
 to speak to him. He was left a long while 
 
 [208] 
 
THE AWAKENING 
 
 alone with her, for Howard and his mother 
 withdrew, excusing themselves on the score of 
 private matters. Christine Latimer was touched 
 by the forlorn quartermaster, who, in his ner- 
 vousness, gripped his chair with clenched hands 
 and started when he was asked a question. 
 She soon got him past this stage of their ac- 
 quaintance, and, leading him on by gentle grada- 
 tions to talk about himself, even learned his 
 whole story, and that in so unobtrusive a fashion 
 that he was hardly aware of his having told it to 
 her. 
 
 " I am speaking to you as though I had 
 known you all my life," he said in an artless 
 compliment. " I hope it is not very forward of 
 me. It is your fault for being so kind and 
 good." 
 
 He was ecstatic when he left the house with 
 Quintan. 
 
 " I didn't know there were such women in 
 the world," he said. " So noble, so winning 
 [209] 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 and high-bred. It makes you understand his- 
 tory to meet people like that. Mary Queen 
 of Scots, Marie Antoinette and all those, you 
 know they must have been like that. I I 
 could understand a man dying for Miss Lati- 
 mer!" 
 
 " Oh, she's all right, my aunt ! " said Quintan. 
 " She was a tremendous beauty once, and even 
 now she's what I'd call a devilish handsome 
 woman. And the grand manner, it isn't every- 
 body that likes it, but I do. It's a little 
 old-fashioned nowadays, but, by Jove, it still 
 tells." 
 
 " I wonder that such a splendid woman 
 should have remained unmarried," said Ray- 
 mond. He stuck an instant on the word un- 
 married. It seemed almost common to apply 
 to such a princess. 
 
 " She had an early love affair that turned out 
 badly," said Quintan. " I don't know what 
 went wrong, but anyway it didn't work. Then, 
 [210] 
 
THE AWAKENING 
 
 when my father died, she came to live with us 
 and help bring us up you see there are two 
 more of us in the family and I am told she 
 refused some good matches just on account of us 
 kids. It makes me feel guilty sometimes to 
 think of it." 
 
 " Why guilty? " asked Raymond. 
 
 " Because none of us were worth it, old 
 chap," said Quintan. 
 
 " I'm sure she never thought so," observed 
 Raymond. 
 
 " My aunt's rather an unusual woman," said 
 Quintan. " She has voluntarily played second 
 fiddle all her life; and, between you and me, you 
 know, my mother's a bit of a tyrant, and not al- 
 ways easy to get along with so it wasn't so sim- 
 ple a game as it looks." 
 
 Raymond was shocked at this way of putting 
 the matter. 
 
 " You mean she sacrificed the best years of her 
 life for you," he said stiffly. 
 
 [211] 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 "Women are like that good women," said 
 Quintan. " Catch a man being such a fool 
 looking at it generally, you know me apart. 
 She had a tidy little fortune from her father, and 
 might have had a yard of her own to play in, but 
 our little baby hands held her tight." 
 
 Raymond regarded his companion's hands. 
 They were large and red, and rough with the 
 hard work on board the Dixie; regarded them 
 respectfully, almost with awe, for had they not 
 restrained that glorious being in the full tide of 
 her youth and beauty ! 
 
 " Now it's too late," said Quintan. 
 
 " What do you mean by too late? " asked the 
 quartermaster. 
 
 " Well, she's passed forty," said Quintan. 
 " The babies have grown up, and the selfish 
 beasts are striking out for themselves. Her oc- 
 cupation's gone, and she's left plante Id. Worse 
 than that, my mother, who never bothered two 
 cents about us then, now loves us to distraction. 
 
 [212] 
 
THE AWAKENING 
 
 And, when all's said, you know, it's natural to 
 like your mother best ! " 
 
 " Too bad ! " ejaculated Raymond. 
 
 " I call it deuced hard luck," said Quintan. 
 " My mother really neglected us shamefully, 
 and it was Aunt Christine who brought us up 
 and blew our noses and rubbed us with goose- 
 grease when we had croup, and all that kind of 
 thing. Then, when we grew up, my mother sud- 
 denly discovered her long-lost children and be- 
 gan to think a heap of us after having scamped 
 the whole business for fifteen years and my 
 aunt, who was the real nigger in the hedge, got 
 kind of let out, you see." 
 
 Raymond did not see, and he was indignant, 
 besides, at the coarseness of his companion's ex- 
 pressions. So he walked along and said nothing. 
 
 "And, as I said before, it's now too late," 
 said Quintan. 
 
 " Too late for what? " demanded Raymond, 
 who was deeply interested. 
 [213] 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 " For her to take up with anybody else," said 
 Quintan. " To marry, you know. She sacri- 
 ficed all her opportunities for us ; and now, in the 
 inevitable course of things, we are kind of aban- 
 doning her when she is old and faded and 
 lonely." 
 
 " I consider your aunt one of the most beauti- 
 ful women in the world," protested Raymond. 
 
 " But you can't put back the clock, old fel- 
 low," said Quintan. " What has the world to 
 offer to an old maid of forty-two? There she 
 is in the empty nest, and not her own nest at 
 that, with all her little nestlings flying over the 
 hills and far away, and the genuine mother-bird 
 varying the monotony by occasionally pecking 
 her eyes out." 
 
 Raymond did not know what to answer. He 
 could not be so rude as to make any reflection on 
 Mrs. Quintan, though he was stirred with resent- 
 ment against her. This noble, angelic, saintly 
 woman, who in every gesture reminded him of 
 
THE AWAKENING 
 
 dead queens and historic personages ! It went 
 to his heart to think of her, bereft and lonely, in 
 that splendid house he had so lately quitted. 
 He recognised, in the unmistakable accord be- 
 tween him and her, the fellowship of a pair who, 
 in different ways and in different stations, had 
 yet fought and suffered and endured for what 
 they judged their duty. Forty-two years old! 
 Singular coincidence, in itself almost a bond be- 
 tween them, that he, too, was of an identical 
 age. Forty-two ! Why, it was called the prime 
 of life. He inhaled a deep breath of air; it was 
 the prime of life; until then no one had really 
 begun to live ! 
 
 ;< Why don't you say something?" said 
 Quintan. 
 
 " I was just thinking how mistaken you were," 
 returned Raymond. " There must be hundreds 
 of men who would be proud to win her slightest 
 regard; who, instead of considering her faded 
 or old, would choose her out of a thousand of 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 younger women and would be happy for ever if 
 
 she would take " He was going to say 
 
 them, but that sounded improper, and he 
 changed it, at the cost of grammar, to " him." 
 
 Quintan laughed at his companion's vehe- 
 mence, and the subject passed and gave way to 
 another about shrapnel. But he did not fail, 
 later on, to carry a humourous report of the 
 conversation to his aunt. 
 
 ;< What have you been doing to my old quar- 
 termaster?" he said. "Hasn't the poor fel- 
 low enough troubles as it is, without falling in 
 love with you ! He can't talk of anything else, 
 and blushes like a girl when he mentions your 
 name. He told me yesterday he was willing to 
 die for a woman like you." 
 
 " I think he's a dear, nice fellow," said Miss 
 Latimer, " and if he wants to love me he can. 
 It will keep him out of mischief! " 
 
 Raymond saw a great deal of Miss Latimer 
 in the month before they sailed south. Quintan 
 
THE AWAKENING 
 
 took him constantly to the house, where, in his 
 capacity of humble and devoted comrade, the 
 tall quartermaster was always welcome and 
 made much of. Mrs. Quintan was alive to the 
 value of this attached follower, who might be 
 trusted to guard her son in the perils that lay 
 before him. She treated him as a sort of com- 
 bination of valet, nurse, and poor relation, 
 asking him all sorts of intimate questions about 
 Howard's socks and underclothing, and holding 
 him altogether responsible for the boy's wel- 
 fare. Her tone was one of anxious patronage, 
 touching at times on a deeper emotion when she 
 often broke down and cried. The quartermas- 
 ter was greatly moved by her trust in him. The 
 tears would come to his own eyes, and he would 
 
 try in his clumsy way to comfort her, promising 
 
 i 
 
 that, so far as it lay with him, Howard should 
 return safe and sound. In his self-abnegation 
 it never occurred to him that his own life was 
 as valuable as Howard Quintan's. He acqui- 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 esced in the understanding that it was his busi- 
 ness to get Howard through the war un- 
 scratched, at whatever risk or jeopardy to him- 
 self. 
 
 Those were wonderful days for him. To be 
 an intimate of that splendid household, to drive 
 behind spanking bays with Miss Latimer by his 
 side, to take tea at the Waldorf with her and 
 other semi-divine beings what a dazzling ex- 
 perience for the ex-clerk, whose lines so recently 
 had lain in such different places. Innately a 
 gentleman, he bore himself with dignity in this 
 new position, with a fine simplicity and self- 
 effacement that was not lost on some of his 
 friends. His respect for them all was un- 
 bounded. For the mother, so majestic, so awe- 
 inspiring; for Howard, that handsome boy 
 whose exuberant Americanism was untouched by 
 any feeling of caste; for Melton and Hubert 
 Henry, his brothers, those lordly striplings of a 
 lordly race ; for Miss Latimer, who in his heart 
 
THE AWAKENING 
 
 of hearts he dared not call Christine, and who to 
 him was the embodiment of everything adorable 
 in women. Yes, he loved her; confessed to him- 
 self that he loved her; humbly and without hope, 
 with no anticipation of anything more between 
 them, overcome indeed that his presumption 
 should go thus far. 
 
 He did not attempt to hide his feelings for 
 her, and though too shy for any expression of it, 
 and withheld besides by the utter impossibility 
 of such a suit, he betrayed himself to her in a 
 thousand artless ways. He asked for no higher 
 happiness than to sit by her side, looking into her 
 face and listening to her mellow voice. He was 
 thrice happy were he privileged to touch her 
 hand in passing a teacup. Her gentleness and 
 courtesy, her evident consideration, the little 
 peeps she gave him into a nature gracious and 
 refined beyond anything he had ever known, all 
 transported him with unreasoning delight. She, 
 on her part, so accustomed to play a minor role 
 [219] 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 herself in her sister's househould, was yet too 
 much a woman not to like an admirer of her 
 own. She took more pains with her dress, 
 looked at herself more often in the glass than 
 she had done in years. It was laughable; it was 
 absurd; and she joined as readily as anyone in 
 the mirth that Raymond's devotion excited in 
 the family, but, deep down within her, she was 
 pleased. At the least it showed she had not 
 grown too old to make men love her; it was the 
 vindication of the mounting years; the time, 
 then, had not yet come when she had ceased al- 
 together to count. She had lost her nephews, 
 who were growing to be men; the love she put 
 by so readily when it was in her reach seemed 
 now more precious as she beheld her faded and 
 diminished beauty, the crow's-feet about her 
 eyes, her hair turning from brown to grey. 
 A smothered voice within her said : <l< Why 
 not?" 
 
 She analysed Raymond narrowly in the long 
 [ 220 ] 
 
THE AWAKENING 
 
 tete-h-t&tes they had together. She drew him 
 out, encouraging and pressing him to tell her 
 everything about himself. She was always ap- 
 prehending a jarring note, the inevitable sign of 
 the man's coarser clay, of his commoner up- 
 bringing, the clash of his caste on hers. But she 
 was struck instead by his inherent refinement, 
 by his unformulated instincts of well-doing and 
 honour. He was hazy about the use of oyster- 
 forks, had never seen a finger-bowl, committed to 
 her eyes a dozen little solecisms which he has- 
 tened to correct by frankly asking her assist- 
 ance ; but in the true essentials she never had to 
 feel any shame for him. Clumsy, grotesquely 
 ignorant of the social amenities, he was yet a 
 gentleman. 
 
 The night before they were to sail, he came to 
 say good-bye. The war had at last begun in 
 earnest; men were falling, and the Spaniards 
 were expected to make a desperate and bloody 
 resistance. It was a sobering moment for every- 
 
 [221 ] 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 one, and, in all voices, however hard they tried 
 to make them brave and gay, there ran an under- 
 current of solemnity. Howard and Raymond 
 were to be actors in that terrible drama not yet 
 played; stripped and powder-blackened at their 
 guns, they were perhaps doomed to go down 
 with their ship and find their graves in the 
 Caribbean. Before them lay untold possi- 
 bilities of wounds and mutilation, of disease, 
 suffering, and horror. What woman that knew 
 them could look on unmoved at the sight of these 
 men, so grave and earnest, so quietly resolute, so 
 deprecatory of anything like braggadocio or 
 over-confidence? It filled Christine Latimer 
 with a fierce pride in herself and them; in a 
 race that could breed men so gentle and so brave ; 
 in a country that was founded so surely on the 
 devoted hearts of its citizens. 
 
 She was crying as Raymond came to her later 
 on the same evening, and found her sitting in 
 the far end of the drawing-room with the lights 
 [ 222 ] 
 
THE AWAKENING 
 
 turned low. They were alone together, for the 
 quartermaster had left Howard with his mother 
 and his brothers gathered in a farewell group 
 about the library fire. Miss Latimer took both 
 of Raymond's hands, and, with no attempt to 
 disguise her sorrow, drew him close beside her on 
 the divan. She was overflowing with pity for 
 this poor fellow, whose life had been so hard, in 
 which until now there had neither been love nor 
 friends, whose only human tie was to his mother 
 and to her. Had he known it, he might have put 
 his arms about her and kissed her tear-swollen 
 eyes and drawn her head against his breast. She 
 was filled with a pent-up tenderness for him; a 
 word, and she would have discovered what was 
 until then inarticulate in her bosom. But the 
 tall quartermaster was withheld from such in- 
 credible presumption. Her beautiful gown 
 against his common serge typified, as it were, the 
 gulf between them. Her distress, her agitation, 
 were in his mind due to her concern for Howard 
 [223] 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 Quintan ; and he told her again and again, with 
 manly sincerity, that he would take good care of 
 her boy. 
 
 She knew he loved her. It had been plain to 
 her for weeks past. She knew every thought 
 in his head as he sat there beside her, thrilled 
 with the touch of her hands, and in the throes 
 of a respectful rapture. Again and again the 
 avowal was on his lips ; he longed to tell her how 
 dear she was to him; it would be hard to die 
 with that unsaid, were he to be amongst those 
 who never returned. It never occurred to him 
 that she might return his love. A woman like 
 her ! A queen ! 
 
 She could easily have helped him out. More 
 than once she was on the point of doing so. 
 But the woman in her rebelled at the thought of 
 taking what was the man's place. She had some- 
 thing of the exaggerated delicacy of an old maid. 
 It was for him to ask, for her to answer; and 
 the precious moments slipped away. At last, 
 [224] 
 
THE AWAKENING 
 
 greatly daring, he managed to blurt out the fact 
 that he wanted to ask a favour. 
 
 "A favour?" she said. 
 
 " Won't you give me something," he said 
 timidly, " some little thing to take with me to 
 remember you by? " 
 
 She replied she would with pleasure. She 
 wanted him to remember her. What was it 
 that he would like ? 
 
 " There is nothing I could refuse you," she 
 said, smiling. 
 
 Raymond was overcome with embarrassment. 
 She saw him looking at her hair; her hair which 
 was her greatest beauty, and which when un- 
 done was luxuriant enough to reach below her 
 waist. He had often expressed his admiration 
 for it. 
 
 " What would you like? " she asked again. 
 
 "Oh, anything," he faltered. " A a 
 book!" 
 
 She could not restrain her laughter. A book ! 
 [225] 
 
I, O V E THE FIDDLER 
 
 She laughed and laughed. She seemed carried 
 away by an extraordinary merriment. Ray- 
 mond thought he had never heard a woman 
 laugh like that before. It made him feel very 
 badly. He wondered what it was that had 
 made his request so ridiculous. He thanked his 
 stars that he had held his tongue about the other 
 thing. Ah, what a fool he had been! He 
 could not have borne it, had the other been 
 received with the same derision. 
 
 " I shall give you my prayer-book," she said 
 at last, wiping her eyes and looking less amused 
 than he had expected. " I've had it many 
 years and value it dearly. It is prettily bound 
 in Russia, and if you carry it on the proper place 
 romance will see that it stops a bullet though 
 a Bible, I believe, is the more correct." 
 
 Somehow her tone sounded less cordial. She 
 had withdrawn her hands, and her humour, at 
 such a moment, jarred on him. In spite of his 
 good resolutions he had managed to put his foot 
 
THE AWAKENING 
 
 into it after all. Perhaps she had begun to 
 suspect his secret and was -displeased. He de- 
 parted feeling utterly wretched and out of heart, 
 and got very scant comfort from his book, for 
 it only reminded him of how seriously he had 
 compromised himself. He was in two minds 
 whether or not to send it back, but decided not 
 to do so in fear lest he might give fresh offence. 
 The next day at dawn the Dixie sailed for the 
 scene of war. 
 
 Ill 
 
 Then followed the historic days of the 
 blockade ; the first landing on Cuba ; the suspense 
 and triumph attending Cervera's capture; El 
 Caney; San Juan Hill; Santiago; and the end of 
 the war. Howard Quintan fell ill with fever 
 and was early invalided home; but Raymond 
 stayed to the finish, an obscure spectator, often 
 an obscure actor, in that world-drama of fleets 
 and armies. Tried in the fire, his character 
 [227] 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 underwent some noted changes. He developed 
 unexpected aptitudes, became a marksman of big 
 guns, showed resource and skill in boat-work, 
 earned the repeated commendations of his 
 superiors. He put his resolutions to the test, 
 and emerged, surprised, thankful, and satisfied, 
 to find that he was a brave man. He rose in 
 his own esteem ; it was borne in on him that he 
 had qualities that others often lacked; it was 
 inspiriting to win a reputation for daring, fear- 
 lessness, and responsibility. 
 
 He wrote when he could to his mother and 
 Miss Latimer, and at rare intervals was some- 
 times fortunate enough to hear in turn from 
 them. His mother was ill; the strain of his 
 absence and danger was telling on her enfeebled 
 constitution; she said she could not have got 
 along at all had it not been for Miss Larimer's 
 great kindness. It seemed that the old maid 
 was her constant visitor, bringing her flowers, 
 taking her drives, comforting her in the dark 
 [228] 
 
THE AWAKE NING 
 
 hours when her courage was nigh spent. " A 
 good and noble woman," wrote the old lady, 
 " and very much in love with my boy." 
 
 That line rang in Raymond's head long after- 
 wards. He read it again and again, bewildered, 
 tempted and yet afraid to believe it true, moved 
 to the depths of his nature, at once happy and 
 unhappy in the gamut of his doubts. It could 
 not be possible. No, it could not be possible. 
 Standing at the breech of his gun, his eyes on a 
 Spanish gunboat they had driven under the 
 shelter of a fort, he found himself repeating: 
 " And very much in love with my boy. And 
 very much in love with my boy." And then, 
 suddenly becoming intent again on the matter in 
 hand, he slammed the breech-mechanism shut 
 and gave the enemy a six-inch shell. 
 
 Then there came the news of his mother's 
 
 death. As much a victim of the war as any 
 
 stricken soldier or sailor at the front, she was 
 
 numbered on the roll of the fallen. The war 
 
 [229] 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 had killed her as certainly, as surely, as any 
 Mauser bullet sped from a tropic thicket. Ray- 
 mond had only the consolation of knowing that 
 Miss Latimer had been with her at the last and 
 that she had followed his mother to the grave. 
 Her letter, tender and pitiful, filled him with an 
 inexpressible emotion. His little world now 
 held but her. 
 
 This was the last letter he was destined to 
 receive from her. The others, if there were 
 others, all went astray in the chaotic confusion 
 attendant on active service. The poor quarter- 
 master, when the ship was so lucky as to take a 
 mail aboard, grew accustomed to be told that 
 there was nothing for him. He lost heart and 
 stopped writing himself. What was the use, 
 he asked himself? Had she not abandoned 
 him? The critical days of the war were over; 
 peace was assured; the victory won, the country 
 was already growing forgetful of the victors. 
 Such were his moody reflections as he paced the 
 [230] 
 
THE AWAKENING 
 
 deck, hungry for the word that never came. 
 Yes, he was forgotten. There could be no 
 other explanation of that long silence. He was 
 forgotten ! 
 
 He returned in due course to New York and 
 was paid off and mustered out of the service. 
 It was dusk when he boarded an uptown car and 
 stood holding to a strap, jostled and pushed 
 about by the unheeding crowd. Already jealous 
 of his uniform, he felt a little bitterness to see it 
 regarded with such scant respect. He looked 
 out of the windows at the lighted streets and 
 wondered whether any of those hurrying thou- 
 sands cared a jot for the men that had fought 
 and died for them. The air, so sharp and chill 
 after the tropics, served still further to dispirit 
 him and add the concluding note of depression 
 to his home-coming. He got off the car and 
 walked down to Fifth Avenue, holding his 
 breath as he drew near the Quintans' house. He 
 rang the bell: waited and rang again. Then 
 
 [230 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 at last the door was unlocked and opened by an 
 old woman. 
 
 " Is Miss Mrs. Quintan at home?" he 
 asked. 
 
 " Gone to Europe," said the old woman. 
 
 " But Miss Latimer? " he persisted. 
 
 " Gone to Europe," said the old woman. 
 
 "Mr. Howard Quintan?" 
 
 " Gone to Europe ! " 
 
 He walked slowly down the steps, not even 
 waiting to ask for their address abroad nor 
 when they might be expected to return. They 
 had faded into the immeasurable distance. 
 What more was there to be said or hoped, and 
 his dejected heart gave back the answer: noth- 
 ing. He slept that night in a cheap hotel. 
 The next day he bought a suit of civilian clothes 
 and sought the office of the auditor's depart- 
 ment. Here he received something more like 
 a welcome. Many of the clerks, with whom he 
 had scarcely been on nodding terms, now came 
 [232] 
 
THE AWAKE NING 
 
 up and shook him warmly by the hand. The 
 superintendent sent for him and told him that 
 his place had been held open, hinting, in the 
 exuberance of the moment, at a slight increase of 
 salary. The assistant superintendent made 
 much of him and invited him out to lunch. 
 The old darkey door-keeper greeted him like a 
 long-lost parent. Raymond went back to his 
 desk, and resumed with a sort of melancholy 
 satisfaction the interrupted routine of twenty 
 years. In a week he could hardly believe he 
 had ever quitted his desk. He would shut his 
 eyes and wonder whether the war had not been 
 all a dream. He looked at his hands and asked 
 himself whether they indeed had pulled the 
 lanyards of cannon, lifted loaded projectiles, 
 had held the spokes of the leaping wheel. His 
 eyes, now intent on figures, had they in truth 
 ever searched the manned decks of the enemy 
 or trained the sights that had blown Spanish 
 blockhouses to the four winds of heaven? 
 
 [233 ] 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 Had it been he or his ghost who had stood 
 behind the Nordenfeldt shields with the bullets 
 pattering against the steel and stinging the air 
 overhead? He or his ghost, barefoot in the 
 sand that sopped the blood of fallen comrades, 
 the ship shaking with the detonation of her guns, 
 the hoarse cheering of her crew re-echoing in 
 his half-deafened ears? A dream, yes; tragic 
 and wonderful in the retrospect, filled with wild, 
 bright pictures ; incredible, yet true I 
 
 He was restless and lonely. He dreaded his 
 evenings, which he knew not how to spend; 
 dreaded the recurring Sunday, interminable in 
 duration, whose leaden hours seemed never to 
 reach their end. His only solace was in his 
 work, which took him out of himself and pre- 
 vented him from thinking. He made a weekly 
 pilgrimage past the Quintans' house. The 
 blinds were always drawn. It was as dead as 
 one of those Cuban mills, standing in the desola- 
 tion of burned fields. Once, greatly daring, 
 
 [234] 
 
THE AWAKENING 
 
 and impelled by a sudden impulse, he went to the 
 door and requested the address of his vanished 
 friends : 
 
 " Grand Hotel, Vevey, Switzerland." 
 He repeated the words to himself as he went 
 back to his boarding-house, repeated them again 
 and again like a child going on an errand, 
 " Grand Hotel, Vevey, Switzerland," in a sort 
 of panic lest he might forget them. He tossed 
 that night in his bed in a torment of indecision. 
 Ought he to write? Ought he to take the risk 
 of a reply, courteous and cold, that he felt him- 
 self without the courage to endure ? Or was it 
 not better to put an end to it altogether and 
 accept like a man the inevitable " no " of her 
 decision. 
 
 He rose at dawn, and, lighting the gas, went 
 back to bed with what paper he could lay his 
 hands on. He had no pen, no ink, only the 
 stub of a pencil he carried in his pocket. How 
 it flew over the ragged sheets under the fierce 
 
 [235] 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 spell of his determination ! All the misery and 
 longing of months went out in that letter. In- 
 articulate no longer, he found the expression of a 
 passionate and despairing eloquence. He could 
 not live without her; he loved her; he had always 
 loved her; before he had been daunted by the 
 inequality between them, but now he must speak 
 or die. At the end he asked her, in set old- 
 fashioned terms, whether or not she would 
 marry him. 
 
 He mailed it as it was, in odd sheets and under 
 the cover of an official envelope of the railroad 
 company. He dropped it into the box and 
 walked away, wondering whether he wasn't the 
 biggest fool on earth and the most audacious, 
 and yet stirred and trembling with a strange 
 satisfaction. After all he was a man; he had 
 lived as a man should, honourably and straight- 
 forwardly; he had the right to ask such a ques- 
 tion of any woman and the right to an honest 
 and considerate answer. Be it yes or no, he 
 
 [236] 
 
THE AWAKENING 
 
 could reproach himself no longer with perhaps 
 having let his happiness slip past him. The 
 matter would be put beyond a doubt for ever, 
 and if it went against him, as in the bottom of 
 his heart he felt assured it would, he would try 
 to bear it with what fortitude he might. She 
 would know that he loved her. There was 
 always that to comfort him. She would know 
 that he loved her. 
 
 He got a postal guide and studied out the 
 mails. He learned the names of the various 
 steamers, the date of their sailing and arriving, 
 the distance of Vevey from the sea. Were she 
 to write on the same -day she received his letter, 
 he might hear from her by the Touraine. Were 
 she to wait a day, her answer would be delayed 
 for the Normandie. All this, if the schedule 
 was followed to the letter and bad weather or 
 accident did not intervene. The shipping page 
 of the New York Herald became the only part 
 of it he read. He scanned it daily with anxiety. 
 [237] 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 Did it not tell him of his letter speeding over 
 seas ? For him no news was good news, telling 
 him that all was well. He kept himself in- 
 formed of the temperature of Paris, the tem- 
 perature of Nice, and worried over the floods in 
 Belgium. From the gloomy offices of the rail- 
 road he held all Europe under the closest 
 scrutiny. 
 
 Then came the time when his letter was cal- 
 culated to arrive. In his mind's eye he saw the 
 Grand Hotel at Vevey, a Waldorf-Astoria set 
 in snowy mountains with attendant Swiss yodel- 
 ling on inaccessible summits, or getting marvels 
 of melody out of little hand-bells, or making 
 cuckoo clocks in top-swollen chalets. The letter 
 would be brought to her on a silver salver, 
 exciting perhaps the stately curiosity of Mrs. 
 Quintan and questions embarrassing to answer. 
 It was a pity he used that railroad envelope! 
 Or would it lie beside her plate at breakfast, 
 as clumsy and unrefined as himself, amid a heap 
 
 [238] 
 
THE AWAKENING 
 
 of scented notes from members of the nobility? 
 Ah, if he could but see her face and read his fate 
 in her blue eyes ! 
 
 When he returned home that night there was 
 a singular-looking telegram awaiting him on the 
 hall table. His hands shook as he took it up 
 for it suddenly came over him that it was a cable. 
 It had never occurred to him that she might do 
 that; that there was anything more expedi- 
 tious than the mail. 
 
 " Sailing by Touraine arriving sixth Christine 
 Latimer." 
 
 He read and re-read it until the type grew 
 blurred. What did it mean? He asked him- 
 self that a thousand times. What did it mean? 
 He sought his room and locked the door, strid- 
 ing up and down with agitation, the cablegram 
 clenched in his hand. He was beside himself, 
 triumphant and yet in a fever of misgiving. 
 Was it notperhaps a coincidence not an answer 
 to his own letter, but one of those extraordinary 
 [239] 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 instances of what is called telepathy? Her 
 words would bear either interpretation. Pos- 
 sibly the whole family was returning with her. 
 Possibly she had never seen his letter at all. 
 Possibly it was following her back to America, 
 unopened and undelivered. 
 
 " Sailing by Touraine arriving sixth" Was 
 that an answer ? Perhaps indeed it was. Per- 
 haps it was a woman's way of saying " yes " ; 
 it might even be, in her surpassing kindness, that 
 she was coming to break her refusal as gently as 
 she might, too considerate of his feelings to 
 write it baldly on paper. At least, amid all these 
 doubts, it assured him of one thing, her regard; 
 that he was not forgotten ; that he had been mis- 
 taken in thinking himself ignored. 
 
 He spent the next eight days in a cruel 
 and heart-breaking suspense. He could hardly 
 eat or sleep. He grew thin and started at a 
 sound. He paid a dollar to have the Touraine's 
 arrival telegraphed to the office; another dollar 
 [240] 
 
THE AWAKENING 
 
 to have it telegraphed to the boarding-house ; he 
 was fearful that one or the other might miscarry, 
 and repeatedly warned the landlady of a pos- 
 sible message for him in the middle of the night. 
 
 " It means a great deal to me," he said. " It 
 means everything to me. I don't know what 
 I'd do if I missed the Touralne! " 
 
 Of course he did not miss the Touralne. 
 He was on the wharf hours before her com- 
 ing. He exasperated everyone with his ques- 
 tions. He was turned out of all kinds of 
 barriers; he earned the distrust of the detectives; 
 he became a marked man. He was certainly 
 there for no good, that tall guy in the slouch hat, 
 his lean hands fidgeting for a surreptitious pearl- 
 necklace or an innocent-looking umbrella full of 
 diamonds one who, in their language, was a 
 guy that would bear watching. 
 
 The steamer came alongside, and Raymond 
 gazed up at the tier upon tier of faces. At 
 length, with a catch in his heart, he caught sight 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 of Miss Latimer, who smiled and waved her 
 hand to him. He scanned her narrowly for an 
 answer to his doubts; and these increased the 
 more he gazed at her. It seemed a bad sign 
 to see her so calm, so composed; worse still to 
 see her occasionally in animated conversation 
 with some of her fellow-passengers. He 
 thought her smiles had even a perfunctory 
 friendliness, and he had to share them besides 
 with others. It was plain she had never re- 
 ceived his letter. No woman could bear herself 
 like that who had received such a letter. Then 
 too she appeared so handsome, so high-bred, so 
 charming and noticeable a figure in the little 
 company about her that Raymond felt a 
 peremptory sense of his own humbleness and of 
 the impassable void between them. How had 
 he ever dared aspire to this beautiful woman, 
 and the thought of his effrontery took him by 
 the throat. 
 
 He stood by the gangway as the passengers 
 [242] 
 
THE AWAKENING 
 
 came off, an interminable throng, slow moving, 
 teetering on the slats, a gush of funnelled hu- 
 manity, hampered with bags, hat-boxes, rolls of 
 rugs, dressing-cases, golf-sticks, and children. 
 At last Miss Latimer was carried into the eddy, 
 her maid behind her carrying her things, lost to 
 view save by the bright feather in her travelling 
 bonnet. The seconds were like hours as Ray- 
 mond waited. He had a peep of her, smiling 
 and patient, talking over her shoulder to a big 
 Englishman behind her. Then, as the slow 
 stream brought her down, she stepped lightly on 
 the wharf, turned to Raymond, and, before he 
 could so much as stammer out a word, flung her 
 arms round his neck and kissed him. 
 
 "Did you really want me?" she said; and 
 then, " You gave me but two hours to catch the 
 old Touraine! " 
 
 [243] 
 
THE MASCOT OF BATTERY B 
 
THE MASCOT OF BATTERY B 
 
 BATTERY A had a mascot goat, and 
 Battery C a Filipino kid, and Battery 
 D a parrot that could swear in five 
 languages, but I guess we were the only battery 
 in the brigade that carried an old lady! Fili- 
 pino, nothing ! But white as yourself and from 
 Oakland, California, and I don't suppose I'd be 
 here talking to you now, if it hadn't been for 
 her. 
 
 I had known Benny a long time Benny was 
 her son, you know, the only one she had and 
 when I enlisted at the beginning of the war 
 Benny wished to do it, too, only he was scared 
 to death, not of the Spaniards, but his old Ma ! 
 So he hung off and on, while I drilled at the 
 Presidio and rode free on the street cars, and did 
 the little hero act, and ate pie the whole day 
 
 [247] 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 long. My! How they used to bring us pies 
 in them times and boxes of see-gars and 
 flowers ! Flowers to burn ! Well I remember 
 a Wisconsin regiment marching along Market 
 Street, big splendid men from the up-North 
 woods, every one of them with a Calla lily stuck 
 in his gun! Oh, it was fine, with the troops 
 pouring in, and the whole city afire to receive 
 them, and the girls almost cutting the clothes off 
 your back for souvenirs and it made Benny 
 sick to see it all, him clerking in a hardware 
 store and eating his heart out to go with the 
 boys. He hung back as long as he could, but at 
 last he couldn't stand it no longer, and the day 
 before we sailed he went and enlisted in my 
 battery. 
 
 He knew there was going to be a rumpus at 
 home and I suppose that was why he put it off 
 to the very end, not wanting to be plagued to 
 death or cried over. But when he got into his 
 uniform and had done a spell of goose-step with 
 
 [248] 
 
THE MASCOT OF BATTERY B 
 
 the first sergeant, he was so blamed rattled about 
 going home that he had to take me along too. 
 He lived away off somewheres in a poorish sort 
 of neighbourhood, all little frame houses and lit- 
 tle front yards about that big, where you could 
 see commuters watering Calla lilies in their city 
 clothes. Benny's house seemed the smallest and 
 poorest of the lot, though it had Calla lilies too 
 and other sorts of flowers, and a mat with " wel- 
 come " on it, and some kind of a dog that licked 
 our hands as we walked up the front steps and 
 answered to the name of Book. 
 
 Benny pushed open the door and went in, me 
 at his heels, and both of us nervous as cats. His 
 mother was sitting in a rocker, reading the even- 
 ing paper with gold spectacles, and I never saw 
 such a straight-backed old lady in my life, nor 
 any so tall and thin and commanding. She 
 looked up at us, kind of startled to see two 
 soldiers walking into her kitchen, and Benny 
 smiled a silly smile and said: 
 [249] 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 " Mommer, I'm off to help Dooey in the 
 Fillypines!" 
 
 I guess he thought she'd jump at him or some- 
 thing, for he had always been a mother's boy 
 and minded everything she said, though he was 
 twenty-eight years old and rising -nine but all 
 she did was to draw in her breath sharp and 
 sudden, so you could hear the whistle of it, and 
 then two big tears rolled out under her specs. 
 
 " Don't feel bad about it, Mommer," said 
 Benny in a snuffly voice. 
 
 She never said a word, but got up from the 
 chair and came over to where Benny was, very 
 white and trembly, and looking at his army coat 
 like it was a shroud. 
 
 " Oh, my son, my son! " she said, kind of 
 choking over the words. 
 
 " I couldn't stay behind when all the boys was 
 going," he said. 
 
 I saw he was holding back all he could to keep 
 from crying, and I didn't blame him either, as 
 [250] 
 
THE MASCOT OF BATTERY B 
 
 we was to sail the next day and the old lady was 
 his Ma. It's them good-byes that break a 
 soldier all up. So I lit out and played with the 
 dog and made him jump through my hands and 
 fetch sticks and give his paw (he was quite a 
 rf-markable dog, that dog, though his breeding 
 wasn't much), while I could hear them inside, 
 talking and talking, and the old lady's voice 
 running on about the danger of drink and how 
 he mustn't sleep in wet clothes or give back-talk 
 to his officers it was wonderful the horse-sense 
 that old lady had and how he must respeck the 
 uniform he wore and be cheerful and willing and 
 brave, like his sainted father who was dead all 
 that mothers say and sometimes what soldiers 
 do and through it all there was a pleasant rattle 
 of dishes and the sound of the fire being poked 
 up, and Benny asking where's the table-cloth, and 
 was there another pie ? By and by I was called 
 in, and there, sure enough, the table was spread, 
 and we were both made to sit down while the old 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 lady skirmished around and wiped her eyes 
 when we weren't looking. 
 
 We had beefsteak, warmed-over pigs' feet, 
 coffee, potato cakes, fresh lettuce, Graham 
 gems, and two kinds of pie, and the next day we 
 sailed for Manila. 
 
 Them early days in the Fillypines was the 
 toughest proposition I was ever up against. 
 Things hadn't settled down as they did after- 
 ward, nobody knowing where he was at, and all 
 of us shoved up to the front higgeldy-piggeldy; 
 and, being Regulars, they gave us the heavy end 
 of it, having to do all the fighting while the 
 Volunteers was being taught the difference be- 
 tween a Krag-Jorgensen and a Moro Castle. It 
 was all front in them days for the Regulars! 
 But we were lucky in our commissary sergeant, 
 a splendid young man named Orr, and we lived 
 well from the start and never came down to 
 rations. The battery got quite a name for hav- 
 ing griddle-cakes for breakfast and carrying a 
 [252] 
 
THE MASCOT OF BATTERY B 
 
 lot of dog generally in the eating line, and some- 
 one wrote a song, to the toon of Chickamauga, 
 called "The Fried Chicken of Battery B." 
 But I tell you, it wasn't all fried chicken either, 
 for the fighting was heavy and hot, and a good 
 many of the boys pegged out. If ever there was 
 a battery that looked for trouble and got it 
 it was Battery B ! But we took good care of 
 our commissary sergeant did I mention he 
 was a splendid young man named Orr? and 
 though we dropped a good many numbers, 
 wounded, dead, sick, and missing we kep* up 
 the good name of the battery and had canned 
 butter and pop-overs nearly every day. 
 
 Benny and I were chums, but nobody knows 
 what that word means till you've kept warm 
 under the same blanket and kneeled side by side 
 in the firing-line. It brings men together like 
 nothing else in the world, and it's queer the 
 unlikely sorts that take to one another. I was 
 so common and uneddicated that I wonder what 
 
 [253] 
 
L O V E THE FIDDLER 
 
 Benny ever saw to like in me, for, as I said, he 
 was a regular Mommer's boy and splendidly 
 brought up and an electrician. Religious, too, 
 and a church member! But he was powerful 
 fond of me, and never went into action but what 
 he'd let off a little prayer to himself that I might 
 come out all right and go to heaven if bolo-ed. 
 Pity he hadn't taken as much trouble for him- 
 self, for one day while we were lying in a trench, 
 and firing for all we were worth, I suddenly saw 
 that look in his face that a soldier gets to know 
 so well. 
 
 " Benny, you're shot ! " I yelled out, dropping 
 my Krag and all struck of a heap. 
 
 " Shot, nothing! " he answered, and then he 
 keeled over in the dirt and his legs began to 
 kick. 
 
 He took a powerful long time to die, and there 
 was even some talk of sending him down to the 
 base hospital, the field one being that full and 
 constantly needed at our heels. But he pleaded 
 
 [254] 
 
THE MASCOT OF BATTERY B 
 
 with the doctors and was allowed as a favour to 
 stay on and die where he was minded with the 
 battery. I was with him all I could, and I'll 
 never forget how good that commissary ser- 
 geant was, a splendid young man named Orr, 
 who always had a little pot of chicken broth for 
 Benny and cornstarch, and what he fancied most 
 of all a sort of thick dough cakes we called 
 sinkers. As luck would have it I got into 
 trouble about this time a little matter of two 
 silver candle-sticks and a Virgin's crown and 
 Benny sent for Captain Howard (it was him 
 that commanded the battery), and weak as he 
 was, dying, he begged me off, and the captain 
 swore awful to hide how bad he felt, and struck 
 my name off the sheet to please him. There 
 was little enough to do in this line, for it was 
 plain as day where Benny was bound for, and 
 he knew himself he would never see that little 
 home in Oakland again. 
 
 Well, he got worse and worse, and sometimes 
 
 [255] 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 when I went there he didn't know me, being out 
 of his head or kind of dopy with the doctor's 
 stuff, the shadow being over him, as Irish people 
 say. One night he was that low that I got 
 scared, and I waylaid the contract surgeon as he 
 came out. 
 
 " Doctor," I said, " it's all up with Benny, 
 aintit?" 
 
 " He'll never hear reveille no more," he says. 
 
 I got my blanket and lay outside the door, it 
 being against regulations for any of us to be in 
 the field-hospital after taps. But the orderly 
 said he'd call me if Benny was to wake up before 
 the end, and the doctor promised me I might go 
 in. Sure -enough, I was called somewheres along 
 of four o'clock and the orderly led me inside the 
 tent to Benny's cot. There was no light but a 
 candle in a bottle, and I held it in my hand and 
 bent over and looked in Benny's face. He was 
 himself all right, and he put his cold, sweaty 
 hand in mine and pressed it. 
 
 [256] 
 
THE MASCOT OF BATTERY B 
 
 " Do you know me, old man? " I said. " Do 
 you know me? " 
 
 " Good-bye, Bill," he said, and then, as I 
 leaned over him, his voice being that low and 
 faint he whispered: " Billy, I guess you'll have 
 to rustle for another chum ! " 
 
 Them was his last words and he said them 
 with a kind of a smile, like he was happy and 
 didn't give a damn to live. Then the little life 
 he had left went out. The orderly looked at 
 his watch, and then wrote the time on a slate 
 after Benny's regimental number and the word: 
 " died." This was about all the epitaph he got, 
 though we buried him properly in the morning 
 and gave him the usual send-off. Then his 
 effects was auctioned off in front of the captain's 
 tent, a nickel for this, ten cents for that a 
 soldier hasn't much at any time, you know, and 
 on the march less than a little and five-sixty 
 about covered the lot. There was quite a rush 
 for the picture of his best girl, but I bought it in, 
 [257] 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 along with one of his Ma and a one-pound 
 Hotchkiss shell and the hilt of a Spanish of- 
 ficer's sword ; and when I had laid them away in 
 my haversack and had borrowed a sheet of paper 
 and an envelope from the commissary sergeant 
 to write to Benny's mother, it came over me 
 what a little place a man fills in the world 
 and how things go on much the same without 
 him. 
 
 I was setting down to write that letter and 
 was about midway through, having got to " the 
 pride of the battery and regretted by all who noo 
 him," when I looked up, and what in thunder do 
 you suppose I saw? The old lady herself, by 
 God ! walking into camp with an umberella and a 
 valise, and looking like she always did power- 
 ful grim and commanding. Someone must 
 have told her the news and which was my tent, 
 for she walked straight up to where I was and 
 said: "William, William!" like that. She 
 didn't cry or nothing, and anybody at a distance 
 
 [258] 
 
THE MASCOT OF BATTERY B 
 
 might have thought she was just talking to a 
 stranger; but there was a whole funeral march 
 in the sound of her voice, and you could read 
 Benny's death like print in her wrinkled old 
 face. I took her out to where we had buried 
 him, and she plumped down on her knees and 
 prayed, with the umberella and the valise beside 
 her, while I held my hat in one hand and my 
 pistol in the other, ready for any bolo business 
 that might come out of the high grass. 
 
 Then we went back to the field-hospital and 
 had a look in, she explaining on the way how she 
 had mortgaged her home, so as to come and look 
 after Benny. I guess the hospital must have 
 appeared kind of cheerless, for lots of the 
 wounded were lying on the bare ground, and it 
 was a caution the way some of them groaned and 
 groaned. You see Battery K had just come in, 
 having had an engagement by the way at Dagu- 
 pan, and Wilson's cavalry, besides, had dumped 
 a sight of their men on us. 
 [259] 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 " And it was in a place like this that my boy 
 died? " said the old lady, her mouth quivering 
 and then closing on the words like a steel 
 trap. 
 
 " There's the very cot, Ma'am," I said. 
 
 She said something like " Oh, oh, oh ! " under 
 her breath, and, taking out her handkerchief, 
 wiped the face and lips of the man in the cot, 
 who was lying there with his uniform still on 
 him. I suppose he had got it because he was a 
 bad case, the cot, I mean, and certainly he 
 was far from spry. 
 
 " He's dead! " said the old lady, shuddering. 
 " He's dead!" 
 
 " Orderly," I said, " number fifty-six is 
 dead!" 
 
 The orderly bent over to make sure and then 
 ran for his slate the same old slate and began 
 to write down the same old thing. I suppose 
 there was some sense to that slate racket, for 
 with a little spit one slate would do for a 
 [260] 
 
THE MASCOT OF BATTERY B 
 brigade, but it seemed a cheap way to die. 
 Then, as we stood there, another orderly came 
 gallumphing in with something steaming in a tin 
 can. The old lady took it out of his hand and 
 smelled it, supercilious. 
 
 " What do you call this? " she said. 
 
 " It's chicken broth, Ma'am," he said. 
 " That's what it is, Ma'am." 
 
 "Faugh!" said the old lady, " faugh!" 
 and handed it back to him, like she was going to 
 throw it away, but didn't. Then we watched 
 him dip it out in tin cups and carry it around, 
 while some other fellers came in and carried out 
 the body of the man in the cot, a trooper by his 
 legs. We went out with them, and, I tell you, 
 it was good to stand in the open air again and 
 breathe. The old lady took a little spell of rest 
 on a packing-case; then she gave me her um- 
 berella and valise to take back to quarters, and, 
 rolling up her sleeves, made like she was going 
 into the hospital again. 
 
 [261] 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 I didn't know what to say, but I guess I 
 looked it. 
 
 " William," she said, with a glitter of her 
 gold specs. 
 
 " Ma'am," said I. 
 
 " Those boys aren't getting proper con-sid- 
 eration," she said. " If it was dogs," she said, 
 " they couldn't be treated worse. William, 
 I'm going to see what one old woman can 
 do." 
 
 " You ought to ask Captain Howard first," I 
 said. " You don't belong to the Army Medical 
 Corps." 
 
 " It's them that let Benny die," she said, with 
 her eyes snapping, " and, as for asking, they'd 
 say ' No,' for they don't allow any women ex- 
 cept at the base hospitals." 
 
 I knew this for a fack, but I'd rather she'd 
 find it out from the captain than from me. I 
 didn't want to seem to make trouble for her. So, 
 while I was wondering what to do about it, she 
 
 [262] 
 
THE MASCOT OF BATTERY B 
 
 headed right in, leaving me with the valise and 
 the umberella, and a kind of qualmy feeling that 
 the old lady might strike a snag. 
 
 I didn't have no chance to come back till along 
 sundown, but, my stars ! even in that time there 
 had been a change. Benny's mother had been 
 getting in her deadly work, and the orderlies 
 were bursting mad, not that any of them dared 
 say anything outright or show it except in their 
 faces, which were that long; for, you see, the 
 contract surgeon had taken her side, and had 
 backed her up. But they moved around like 
 mules with their ears down, powerful un- 
 willing, and yet scared to say a word. The hos- 
 pital had been made a new place, with another 
 tent up that had been laid away and forgotten 
 (you wouldn't think it possible, but it was) , and 
 the sick and wounded had been sorted over and 
 washed and made comfortable; and, where be- 
 fore there was no room to turn around, you 
 could walk through wide lanes and wonder what 
 [263] 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 had become of the crowd. She had peeked into 
 the cooking, too, and had found out more things 
 going wrong in five hours than the contract sur- 
 geon had in five months. Blest if there wasn't a 
 court-martial laying for every one of the order- 
 lies if they said " boo ! " for the swine had been 
 making away scandalous with butter and choco- 
 late and beef-tea and canned table peaches and 
 sparrow-grass and sardines, and all the like of 
 that, belly-robbing the boys right and left per- 
 fectly awful. 
 
 It was a mighty good account of the contract 
 surgeon that he took it all so well, and was will- 
 ing to admit how badly he had been done. But 
 he was a splendid young fellow, named Marcus, 
 and what the old lady said, went ! He was right 
 sorry he couldn't put her on the strength of the 
 battery, but the regulations kept women nurses 
 at the base-hospitals, and anyway ( for we broke 
 everything them days, and there wasn't enough 
 red-tape left to play cat-and-my-cradle with) 
 [264] 
 
THE MASCOT OF BATTERY B 
 
 Captain Howard hated the sight of a petticoat, 
 and was dead set against women anywheres. I 
 don't know what they had ever done to him, but 
 I'm just saying it for a fack. But, however it 
 was, Marcus said the old lady had to be kept 
 out of sight, or else the captain would surely send 
 her to the rear under arrest. 
 
 Now, this made it a pretty hard game for the 
 old lady to play, and you can reckon how much 
 dodging she had to do to keep out of the cap- 
 tain's sight. It was hard about her sleeping, 
 too, for she had to do that where she could, not 
 to speak of the pay she might have drawn and 
 didn't, and which, sakes alive ! she earned twenty 
 times over. By and by everybody got onto it 
 except the captain, but there wasn't such a skunk 
 in the battery as to tell him, partly because of the 
 joke, but, most of all, on account of the con- 
 valescents, who naturally thought a heap of her. 
 Then it got whispered around that she was our 
 mascot, and carried the luck of the battery; and 
 
 [265] 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 it was certainly remarkable how it began to 
 change, getting fresh beef quite regular and 
 maple syrup to burn, and nine kegs of Navy 
 pickles by mistake. 
 
 You would have thought she was too old to 
 stand it, for we was always on the move, and I 
 have seen her sleeping on what was nothing else 
 but mud, with the rain coming down tremenjous. 
 But she was a tough old customer, and always 
 came to time, outlasting men that could have 
 tossed her in the air, or run with her a block 
 and never taken breath. But, of course, it 
 couldn't be kept up for ever I mean about the 
 captain and, sure enough, one day he caught 
 her riding on a gun-carriage, while he was pass- 
 ing along the line on a Filipino pony. 
 
 " Good God ! " he said, like that, reining in 
 his horse and looking at her campaign hat and 
 the old gingham dress she wore. I wonder she 
 didn't correct him for his profanity, but I allow 
 for once she was scared stiff, and hadn't no an- 
 
 [266] 
 
THE MASCOT OF BATTERY B 
 
 swer ready. My ! But she kind of shrunk in 
 and looked a million years old. 
 
 " Madam," said he, " do you belong to this 
 column ? " 
 
 " Unofficially, I do," she said, perking up a 
 little. 
 
 "Might I inquire where you came from?" 
 said he, doing the ironical perlite. 
 
 " Oakland, California," said she. 
 
 " And is this your usual mode of locomo- 
 tion? " said he. " Riding on a gun? " said he. 
 " Like the Goddess of War," said he. " Perch- 
 ing on the belcherous cannon's back," said 
 he. 
 
 The old lady, now as bold as brass, allowed 
 that it was. 
 
 " Scandalous ! " roared the captain. n Scan- 
 dalous!" 
 
 The old lady always had a kind of nattified 
 air, and even on a gun-carriage she sported that 
 look of dropping in on the neighbours for a visit. 
 
 [267] 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 She ran up her little parasol, settled her feet, 
 give a tilt to her specs, and looked the captain in 
 the eye. 
 
 " Yes," she said, " I do belong to this column, 
 and I guess it would be a smaller column by a 
 dozen, if it hadn't been for me in your field-hos- 
 pital. Or twenty," said she. " Or maybe 
 more," said she. 
 
 This kind of staggered the captain. It was 
 plain he didn't know just what to do. We were 
 hundreds of miles from anywheres, and there 
 were Aguinaldoes all around us. He was as 
 good as married to that old lady, for any means 
 he had of getting rid of her. He began to look 
 quite old himself, as he stared and stared at the 
 mascot of Battery B, the cannon lumping along, 
 and the old lady bouncing up and down, as the 
 wheels sank to the axles in the rutty road. 
 
 " When we strike the railroad, home you go," 
 said he. 
 
 " We'll see about that," said the old lady. 
 [ 268 ] - 
 
THE MASCOT OF BATTERY B 
 
 " It's disgraceful," said he. " Pigging with 
 a whole battery," said he. " Oh, the shame of 
 it! "said he. 
 
 " Shoulder-straps don't always make a gen- 
 tleman," said she. 
 
 " Holy Smoke ! " said he, galloping off very 
 fierce and grand on his little horse, to haul Dr. 
 Marcus over the coals. They say the contract 
 surgeon got it in the neck, but we were short- 
 handed in that department already, Dr. Fenelly 
 having been killed in action, so the captain could 
 do nothing worse nor reprimand him. It was 
 bad enough as it was for Marcus for he 
 wasn't no old lady, and the captain could let 
 himself rip. And, I tell you, it was a caution 
 any time to be up against Captain Howard, for, 
 though he could be nice as pie and perlite to beat 
 the band, it only needed the occasion for him 
 to unloose on you like a thirteen-inch gun. 
 
 Well, it was perfectly lovely what hap- 
 pened next, for, with all her sassiness, the old 
 
 [269] 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 lady felt pretty blue, and talked about Benny for 
 hours, like she always did when she was down- 
 hearted; and, by this time, you know, she had 
 got to love Battery B, and every boy in it; and 
 it naturally went against her to think of starting 
 out all over again with strangers, and them may- 
 be Volunteers. So you can guess what her feel- 
 ings was that night when the captain went down 
 with fever. It was like getting money from 
 home! 
 
 The captain had never been sick in his life, 
 and he took it hard to be laid by and keep off 
 the flies, while another feller ran the battery and 
 jumped his place. I guess it came over him 
 that he wasn't the main guy after all, and that 
 it wouldn't matter a hill of beans whether he 
 lived or quit. Them's one of the things you 
 learn in hospital, and the most are the better for 
 it; but the captain, you see, was getting his les- 
 son a bit late. So he was layed off, with amigos 
 to carry him or bolo him (like what amigos are 
 [270] 
 
THE MASCOT OF BATTERY B 
 when they get a chance), and the old lady give 
 a whoop and took him in charge. My! If she 
 wasn't good to that man, and, as for coals of fire, 
 she regularly slung them at him ! The doctor, 
 too, got his little axe in, and was everlastingly 
 praising the old lady, and telling the captain he 
 would have been a goner, if it hadn't been for 
 her! And, when the captain grew better 
 which he did after a few days he was that 
 meek he'd eat out of your hand. The old lady 
 was not only a champion nurse, but she was a bus- 
 ter to cook. Give her a ham-bone and a box of 
 matches and she could turn out a French dinner 
 of five courses, with oofs-sur-le-plate, and veal- 
 cutlets in paper pants ! It was then, I reckon, 
 she settled the captain for good; and, when he 
 picked up and was able to walk about camp, lean- 
 ing pretty heavy on her arm, she called him 
 "George" and "My boy "like that and 
 you might have taken him for Benny and she his 
 Ma. 
 
 [271] 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 There was nothing too good for the old lady 
 after that, and the captain wouldn't hear of her 
 living anywheres but at the officers' mess, where 
 she sat at his right hand, and always spoke first. 
 The Queen of England couldn't have been 
 treated with more respeck, and the captain put 
 her on the strength of the battery, and she drew 
 back-pay from the day she first blew into camp. 
 My, but it was changed times! and you 
 ought to have seen the way the old lady 
 cocked her head in the air and made a 
 splendid black silk dress of loot, which she 
 wore every evening with the officers and 
 rattled all over with jet. But it didn't turn 
 her head the least bit, like for a time the boys 
 feared it might, and she was twice as good to 
 us as she had been before. We had a pull at 
 headquarters now, and she had a heart that big 
 that it could hold the officers and us, too and 
 more in the draw. 
 
 The tide had turned her way when she needed 
 [272] 
 
THE MASCOT OF BATTERY B 
 
 it most, for, tough as she was, she could not have 
 long gone on like she had been. She had worn 
 down very thin, and was like a shadow of the 
 old lady I remembered in Oakland, California, 
 and kind of sunk in around the eyes, and I don't 
 believe Benny would have known her, had he 
 risen from the grave; and, when anybody joked 
 with her about it, and said: "Take it easy, 
 Ma'am, you owe it to the battery to be keerful," 
 she'd answer she had enlisted for the term of the 
 war, and looked to peg out the day peace was 
 proclaimed. 
 
 " Then I'll be off to join Benny," she'd say, 
 " and the rest of the battery, in heaven ! " 
 
 There was getting to be a good deal of a 
 crowd up there that is, if the other place hadn't 
 yanked them in and some of the boys found a 
 lot of comfort in her way of thinking. 
 
 " A boy as dies for his country isn't going to 
 be bothered about passing in," she would say, 
 with a click of her teeth and that sure way of 
 
 [273] 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 hers like she knew. And I reckon perhaps she 
 did. 
 
 One afternoon she was suddenly taken very 
 bad; and, instead of better, she grew worse and 
 worse, being tied to the bed and raving ; and the 
 captain, who wouldn't hear of her being sent to 
 hospital, give up his own quarters to her and al- 
 most went crazy, he was that frightened she was 
 dying. 
 
 %< It's just grit that's kep' her alive," I heard 
 the doctor saying to him. 
 
 ' You must save her, Marcus," said the cap- 
 tain, holding to him, like he was pleading with 
 the doctor for her life. " You must save her, 
 Marcus. You must do everything in the world 
 you can, Marcus." 
 
 The contract surgeon looked mighty glum. 
 " She's like a ship that's been burning up her 
 fittings for lack of coal," said he. " There 
 aint nothing left," he said. " Not a damn 
 thing," said he, and then he piled in a lot 
 [274] 
 
THE MASCOT OF BATTERY B 
 
 of medical words that seemed to settle the 
 matter. 
 
 As for the captain, he sat down and regularly 
 cried. I'm sorry now I said anything against the 
 captain, for he was a splendid man, and the pride 
 of the battery. And, I tell you, he wasn't the 
 only one that cried neither, for the boys idolised 
 the old lady, and there wasn't no singing that 
 night or cards or anything. I was on picket, 
 and it was a heavy heart I took with me into the 
 dark; and, when they left me laying in the grass, 
 and nobody nearer nor a hundred yards and that 
 behind me, I felt mortal blue and lonesome and 
 homesick, and like I didn't care whether I was 
 killed or not. It was midnight when I went out, 
 mind, I say midnight and I -don't know 
 what ailed me that night, for, after think- 
 ing of the old lady and Benny and my 
 own mother that was dead, and all the rest 
 of the boys that had marched out so fine and 
 ended so miserable I couldn't keep the sleep 
 [275] 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 away; and I'd go off and off, though I tried my 
 damnedest not to; and my eyes would shut in 
 spite of me and just glue together; and I would 
 kind of drown, drown, drown in sleep. If ever 
 a man knew what he was doing, and the risk, 
 and what I owed to the boys, and me a Regular, 
 
 and all that it was me; yet yet And 
 
 you must remember it had been a hard day, and 
 the guns had stuck again and again in the mud, 
 and it was pull, mule, pull, soldier, till you 
 thought you'd drop in your tracks. Oh, I am 
 not excusing myself! I've seen men shot for 
 sleeping on guard, and I know it's right; and, 
 even in my dreams, I seemed to be reproaching 
 myself and calling myself a stinker. 
 
 Then, just as I was no better nor a log, laying 
 there with my head on my arm, a coward and a 
 traitor, and a black disgrace to the uniform I 
 wore, I suddenly waked up with somebody shak- 
 ing me hard, real rough, like that and I 
 jumped perfectly terrible to think it might be 
 
 [276] 
 
THE MASCOT OF BATTERY B 
 the captain on his rounds. Oh, the relief when I 
 saw it was nothing else than the old lady, she 
 kneeling beside me all alone, and her specs shin- 
 ing in the starlight. 
 
 " William, William ! " she said, sorrowful 
 and warning, her voice kind of strange, like she 
 didn't want to say out loud that I had been 
 asleep at my post; and, as she drew away her 
 hand, it touched mine, and it was ice-cold. And, 
 just as I was going to tell her to lope back and 
 be keerful of herself, the grass rustled in front 
 of me, and I saw, rising like a wall, rows on rows 
 of Filipino heads! My, but didn't I shoot and 
 didn't I run, and the bugles rang out and the 
 whole line was rushed, me pelting in and the 
 column spitting fire along a length of three 
 miles! We stood them off all right, and my 
 name was mentioned in orders, and I was pro- 
 moted sergeant, the brigadier shaking my hand 
 and telling the boys I was a pattern to go by 
 and everything a Regular ought to be. But it 
 
 [277] 
 
LOVE THE FIDDLER 
 
 wasn't that I was going to tell. It was about the 
 old lady, though I didn't learn it till the next 
 day. 
 
 She had died at a quarter of midnight, and 
 had lain all night on the captain's bed with a 
 towel over her poor old face. 
 
 Now, what do you make of that? 
 
 THE END 
 
 [278] 
 
<elett Burgess an* 
 ~ 3frtoin 
 
 Authors of The Picaroons " 
 
 THE REIGN OF QUEEN ISYL 
 
 IN "The Reign of Queen Isyl" the authors 
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 short stories are as unusual and striking as the 
 novel of which they form a part. 
 
 $1.50 
 
 Co, 
 
Batitti <rajjam 
 
 Author of "Golden Fleece." 
 
 THE MASTER ROGUE 
 
 A. STUDY in the tyranny of wealth. James 
 Galloway founds his fortune on a fraud. He 
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 Co. 
 
Up?