THE MADNESS 
 OF PHILIP 
 
 BY 
 
 JOSEPHINE DODGE 
 DASKAM 
 
 With -^ 
 Illustration* 
 
 by 
 
 F. Y. CORY 
 
 r r 
 r 

 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVEflSfTY OF 
 
 * 
 
 presented to the 
 
 LIBRARY 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA SAN DIF.GO 
 
 by 
 
 FRIENDS OF THE LIBRARY 
 
 MR. JOHN C. ROSE 
 
 donor
 
 \
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 AND OTHER TALES OF 
 CHILDHOOD 
 
 BY 
 JOSEPHINE DODGE DASKAM 
 
 Illustrated by F. Y. Cory 
 
 McCLURE, PHILLIPS & Co. 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 1902
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1902, BY 
 McCLURE, PHILLIPS & CO. 
 
 1901, by Harper & Bros. 
 1900, 1901 and 1902, by S. 8. McClure Co. 
 
 Published, Harch, 1002 
 
 SECOND IMPRESSION
 
 To my Father 
 
 kindest of many kind critics 
 
 these stories are 
 
 dedicated
 
 PAGE 
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP .<,... 1 
 
 A STUDY IN PIRACY 31 
 
 BOBBERT S MERRY CHRISTMAS 69 
 
 THE HEART OF A CHILD 95 
 
 ARDELIA IN ARCADY 119 
 
 EDGAR, THE CHOIR BOY UXCELESTIAL . .153 
 
 THE LITTLE GOD AND DICKY 191
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP
 
 HIS mother, being a woman of percep 
 tion, realized early that something was 
 wrong. Even before breakfast she 
 found Philip trying to put his sister into the 
 bolster case, checking her vivid denunciations by 
 a judicious application of the pillow. After 
 breakfast it was im 
 possible to get him 
 ready in time, as 
 his rubbers had 
 been hidden by a 
 revengeful sister, 
 and the bus was 
 kept waiting fully 
 five minutes, to the 
 irritation of the 
 driver, who made 
 up the lost interval 
 
 by a rapid pace. 
 
 Checking her vivid denunciations 
 l>i/ a judicious application of the 
 
 pilloio." 
 
 [1]
 
 THE M A D N ESS O F P H I I. 1 P 
 
 This jolted the children about, and frightened the 
 youngest ones, so that they arrived at the kinder 
 garten bumped and breathless, and only too dis 
 posed to take offense at the first opportunity. This 
 opportunity Philip supplied. As they swarmed 
 out of the bus he irritated Joseph ZukofFsky by a 
 flat contradiction of his pleased statement that he 
 was to lead the line into the house. 
 
 " Oh, no, you ain t ! " said Philip. 
 
 Joseph stared and reiterated his assertion 
 Philip again denied it. He did nothing to pre 
 vent Joseph from assuming the head of the line, 
 but his tone was most exasperating, and Joseph 
 sat down on the lowest step of the bus and 
 burst into angry tears he was not a person of 
 strong character. 
 
 Some of the more sympathetic children joined 
 their tears to his, and the others disputed vio 
 lently if vaguely ; they lacked a clear idea of the 
 difficulty, but that fact did not prevent eager 
 partisanship. Two perplexed teachers quieted 
 the outbreak and marshaled a wavering line, one 
 innocently upholding Philip to the disgusted 
 [2]
 
 THE MADNESS OK PHILIP 
 
 group, " because he walks along so quietly," the 
 other supporting Joseph, whose shoulders heaved 
 convulsively as he burst out into irregular and 
 startling sobs. It was felt that the day had be 
 gun inauspiciously. 
 
 They sat down on the hall floor and began to 
 pull off their rubbers and mufflers. As Philip^s 
 eye fell to the level of his feet a disagreeable as 
 sociation stirred his thoughts, and in a moment 
 it had taken definite form : his rubbers had been 
 stolen and hidden ! His under lip crept slowly 
 out ; a distinctly dangerous expression grew in 
 his eyes; he looked balefully about him. Ma- 
 rantha Judd pirouetted across his field of vision, 
 vainglorious in a new plaid apron with impracti 
 cable pockets. Her pigtails bobbed behind her. 
 She had just placed her diminutive rubbers 
 neatly parallel, and was attaching the one to the 
 other with a tight little clothes-pin provided for 
 the purpose. 
 
 Casually, and as if unconscious that Marantha 
 was curiosity incarnate, Philip took his own 
 clothes-pin and adjusted it to his nose. It gave 
 
 m
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 him an odd and, to Marantha, a distinguished 
 appearance, and she inquired of him if the sensa 
 tions he experienced were pleasurable. His an 
 swer expressed unconditional affirmation, and un 
 clasping her clothes-pin Marantha snapped it 
 
 " Tore off the clothes-pin with a jerk." 
 
 vigorously over her own tip-tilted little feature. 
 A sharp and uncompromising tweak was the 
 result, and Marantha, shrieking, tore off the 
 clothes-pin with a jerk that sent little Richard 
 Willetts reeling against his neighbor. Out of 
 the confusion Richard was a timorous creature, 
 [41
 
 THE MADNESS OF P H I I. I 1 
 
 and fully convinced that the entire kindergarten 
 meditated continual assault upon his small per 
 son rose the chiding voice of Marantha : 
 
 " You are a bad, bad boy, Philup, you are ! " 
 
 To her tangled accusations the bewildered 
 teacher paid scant heed. 
 
 " I can t see why all you little children find so 
 much fault with Philip," she said reprovingly. 
 " What if he did put his clothes-pin on his nose ? 
 It was a foolish thing to do, but why need you 
 do it ? You have made more trouble than he, 
 Marantha, for you frightened little Richard ! " 
 
 Marantha s desperation was dreadful to wit 
 ness. She realized that her vocabulary was 
 hopelessly inadequate to her situation : she knew 
 herself unable to present her case effectively, but 
 she felt that she was the victim of a glaring in 
 justice. Her chin quivered, she sank upon the 
 stairs, and her tears were even as the tears of 
 Joseph Zukoffsky. 
 
 The youngest assistant now appeared on the 
 scene. 
 
 " Miss Hunt wants to know why you re so late
 
 THE MADNESS OF V H I I. I i 
 
 with them," she inquired. " She hopes nothing s 
 the matter. Mrs. R. B. M. Smith is here to-day 
 to visit the primary schools and kindergartens, 
 and " 
 
 " Oh, goodness ! " the attempted consolation 
 of Marantha ceased abruptly. " I can t bear that 
 woman ! She s always read Stanley Hall s last 
 article that proves that what he said before was 
 wrong ! Come along, Marantha, and don t be a 
 foolish little girl any longer. We shall be late 
 for the morning exercise." 
 
 Upstairs a large circle was forming under the 
 critical scrutiny of a short, stout woman with 
 crinkly, gray hair. They took their places, 
 Marantha pink-nosed and mutinous, Joseph not 
 yet recovered from a distressing tendency to 
 burst out into gulping sobs he was naturally 
 pessimistic and treasured his grievances indefi 
 nitely. Philip s eyes were fixed upon the floor. 
 
 " Now what shall we sing ? " inquired the prin 
 cipal briskly. " I think we will let Joseph 
 choose, because he doesn t look very happy this 
 bright morning. Perhaps we can cheer him up." 
 [6]
 
 T II E M A I) N K S S O F 1 II 1 I. I I 
 
 In a husky voice Joseph suggested " My heart 
 is God s little garden." In reply to Miss Hunt s 
 opening question Eddy Brown had proposed 
 " Happy greeting to the rain," a sufficiently 
 maudlin request, as there was absolutely no indi 
 cation of that climatic condition, past, present, or 
 future. Eddy possessed the not unusual combi 
 nation of a weak mind and a strong voice, and 
 though the piano prelude was that of Joseph s 
 choice, the effect of a voice near him starting the 
 well-known air of his own suggestion was over 
 whelming, and Eddy began shout 
 ing it lustily. Marantha, whose 
 susceptibilities were, like those of 
 others of her sex, distinctly sharp- 
 
 Marantha . . . upheld Josuph until all her powers of 
 heart and voice." 
 
 [7]
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 ened by suffering, knew well enough who was re 
 sponsible for the rival chorus, and upheld Joseph 
 with all her powers of heart and voice. The tunes 
 in question were, like many of the kindergarten 
 repertoire, somewhat similar, and a few seconds of 
 chaotic discords amazed Mrs. R. B. M. Smith and 
 vexed the teachers. 
 
 Now see on what slight thread events are 
 strung ! What she innocently supposed to be a 
 misunderstanding of the song selected, influenced 
 one of the teachers to announce the subsequent 
 songs herself. This led Mrs. R. B. M. Smith to 
 suppose that the teacher was selecting all the 
 songs, thus depriving the children of the divine, 
 not to say formative, privilege of individual 
 choice. This opinion, in turn, led her to beckon 
 one of the assistants to her and describe her own 
 system of awakening and continuing, by a cease 
 less series of questions, the interested cooperation 
 of the child s intelligence. In order to do this, 
 she added, the subjects of song and story must be 
 more simple than was possible if complex histori 
 cal incidents were used. She indicated her will- 
 I 8 1
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHI LI I 
 
 ingness to relate to the children a model story of 
 this order, calling the teachers 1 attention in ad 
 vance to the almost incredible certainty that 
 would characterize the children s anticipation of 
 the events thus judiciously and psychologically 
 selected. 
 
 The arm-chairs shortly to contain so much ac 
 curate anticipation were ranged neatly on both 
 sides of the long room. Some malefic influence 
 caused the officiating teacher to appoint Philip to 
 lead one-half of the circle to the chairs and Ma- 
 rantha the other. More than one visitor had 
 been wont to remark the unanimity with which 
 this exercise was performed. Each child grasped 
 his little chair by the arms, and holding it before 
 him, carried it to its appointed place in the circle. 
 So well had they learned this manoeuver that the 
 piano chords were sufficient monitors, and the 
 three teachers, having seen the line safely started, 
 gathered around their visitor to hear more of the 
 theory. 
 
 Under what obsession Philip labored, with what 
 malignant power he had made pact, is unknown.
 
 T H E M A D N E S S OF PHILIP 
 
 He had no appearance of planning darkly : his 
 actions seemed the result of instantaneous inspira- 
 
 The effect was inexpressibly 
 
 indiscreet." 
 
 tion. Standing 
 
 before his chair 
 
 as if about to 
 
 take his seat, 
 
 he subsided partially ; then, 
 
 grasping the arms, half bent 
 
 over, he waddled toward the 
 circle. This natural method of transportation 
 commended itself in a twinkling to his line, and 
 without the slightest disturbance or hesitation, 
 they imitated him exactly. Experience should 
 have taught Marantha the futility of following 
 his example, but she was of an age when expe 
 rience appeals but slightly ; and determined to 
 excel him, at the risk of falling at every step 
 on her already injured nose, she bent over so far 
 that the legs of her chair pointed almost directly 
 upward. Her line followed her, and waddling, 
 f 10]
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 shuffling, gnome-like, they made for the circle. 
 It had all the effect of a carefully inculcated drill, 
 and to Mrs. R. B. M. Smith the effect was inex 
 pressibly indiscreet. 
 
 "Is it possible that you she inquired, 
 pointing to the advancing children, many of 
 whom promptly fell over backward under the 
 sudden onslaught of the horrified teachers. 
 
 Miss Hunt colored angrily. 
 
 " Something is the matter with the school to 
 day," she said sharply. " I never knew them to 
 behave so in my life ! I can t see what s come 
 oxer them ! They always carry their chairs in 
 front of them."" 
 
 " I should hope so," responded the visitor 
 placidly, " nothing could be worse for them than 
 that angle." 
 
 " At least they re safe now," the youngest as 
 sistant whispered to her fellow-teacher, as the 
 children sat decorously attentive in their chairs, 
 their faces turned curiously toward the strange 
 lady with the fascinating plumes in her bonnet. 
 
 " Nothing like animals to bring out the 
 
 [11]
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 protective instinct feebler dependent on the 
 stronger," she concluded rapidly, and then ad 
 dressed the objects of these theories. 
 
 " Now, children, Fin going to tell you a nice 
 story you all like stories, I m sure." 
 
 At just that moment little Richard Willetts 
 sneezed loudly and unexpectedly to all, himself 
 included, with the result that his ever-ready sus 
 picion fixed upon his neighbor, Andrew Halloran, 
 as the direct cause of the convulsion. Andrew s 
 well-meant efforts to detach from Richard s vest 
 the pocket-handkerchief securely 
 fastened thereto by a large, black 
 safety-pin strengthened the lat- 
 ter s conviction of intended as 
 sault and battery, and he squirmed 
 out of the circle and made a dash 
 for the hall the first stage in 
 an evident homeward expedi 
 tion. 
 
 This broke in upon the story, 
 
 , and even when it got under way 
 Sneezed loudly and 
 
 unexpectedly." again there was an atmosphere
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 " Yesterday, children, as I came out of my yard, what do 
 you think I saw ? 
 
 of excitement quite unexplained by the tale 
 itself. 
 
 " Yesterday, children, as I came out of my 
 yard, what do you think I saw ? " The elabo 
 rately concealed surprise in store was so obvious 
 that Marantha rose to the occasion and sug 
 gested : 
 
 " An ePphunt ! " 
 
 " Why, no ! Why should I see an elephant 
 in my yard ? It wasn t nearly so big as that 
 it was a little thing ! " 
 
 " A fish ! " ventured Eddy Brown, whose eye 
 fell upon the aquarium in the corner. The racon- 
 teufse smiled patiently. 
 
 " Why, no ! How could a fish, a live fish, get 
 in my front yard ?" 
 
 " A dead fish ? " persisted Eddy, who was never 
 known to relinquish voluntarily an idea. 
 [131
 
 THE M A D N K S S OF PHILIP 
 
 " It was a little kitten," said the story-teller, 
 decidedly. "A little white kitten. She was 
 standing right near a great big puddle of water. 
 And what else do you think I saw ? " 
 
 " Another kitten ? " suggested Marantha con 
 servatively. 
 
 " No, a big Newfoundland dog. He saw the 
 little kitten near the water. Now cats don t like 
 the water, do they ? They don t like a wet place. 
 What do they like ? " 
 
 " Mice ! " said Joseph Zukoffsky abruptly. 
 
 " Well, yes, they do ; but there were no mice 
 in my yard. I m sure you know what I mean. 
 If they don t like water, what do they like ? " 
 
 " Milk ! " cried Sarah Fuller confidently. 
 
 " They like a dry place," said Mrs. R. B. M. 
 Smith. 
 
 " Now what do you suppose the dog did ? " 
 It may be that successive failures had disheartened 
 the listeners ; it may be that the very range pres 
 ented alike to the dog and them for choice dazzled 
 their imaginations. At any rate they made no 
 answer. 
 
 [141
 
 T HE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 " Nobody knows what the dog did ? " repeated 
 the story-teller encouragingly. " What would 
 you do if you saw a little white kitten like that ?" 
 
 Again a silence. Then Philip remarked gloom- 
 ily: 
 
 " Fd pull its tail." 
 
 Even this might have been passed over had 
 not the youngest assistant, who had not yet lost 
 her sense of humor, giggled convulsively. This, 
 though unnoticed by the visitor, was plainly ob 
 served by fully half the children, with the result 
 that when Mrs. R. B. M. Smith inquired patheti 
 cally, 
 
 " And what do the rest of you think ? I 
 hope yon are not so cruel as that little boy ! " a 
 jealous desire to share Philip^s success prompted 
 the quick response : 
 
 " Fd pull it, too ! " 
 
 Miss Hunt was oblivious to the story, which 
 finished somehow, the dog having done little, and 
 the kitten, if anything, less. She was lost in a 
 miserable wonder what was the matter with them ? 
 Alas ! she could not know that the root of all
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 the evil was planted in the breast of Philip, the 
 demon-ridden. His slightest effort was blessed 
 with a success beyond his hopes. He had but to 
 raise his finger, and his mates rallied all uncon 
 sciously to his support. Nor did he require 
 thought ; on the instant diabolical inspiration 
 seized him, and his conception materialized al 
 most before he had grasped it himself. The very 
 children of light were made to minister unto him, 
 as in the case of his next achievement. 
 
 With a feeling of absolute safety the teacher 
 called upon Eddy Brown to lead the waiting circle 
 in a game. Eddy was one of the stand-bys of the 
 kindergarten. He was a little old for it, but 
 being incapable of promotion owing to his inabil 
 ity to grasp the rudiments of primary work, he 
 continued to adorn his present sphere. It would 
 almost seem that Frobel had Eddy Brown in 
 mind in elaborating his educational schemes, for 
 his development, according to kindergarten stand 
 ards, was so absolutely normal as to verge on the 
 extraordinary. He was never ennuye, never cross, 
 never disobedient. He never anticipated ; he 
 f 161
 
 T H K MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 never saw what you meant before you said it ; he 
 never upset the system by inventing anything 
 whatsoever the vice of the too active-minded. 
 He was perennially surprised at the climaxes of 
 the stories, passionately interested in the games ; 
 and clay balls and braided straw represented his 
 wildest dissipations. He sat in his chair till he 
 was told to rise, and remained standing till he 
 was urged to take his seat. His voice, if some 
 what off the key, was always prominent in song ; 
 his feet, if not always in time, were always in 
 evidence when it was a question of marching. 
 
 To-day he took the middle of the ring and 
 beamed cheerfully on them all as they swayed 
 back and forth and sang to him : 
 
 Now Eddie if you ll teach its 
 
 A new game to play, 
 We II watch you and try to 
 
 I)o just as yon say ! 
 
 There was a slight poetic exaggeration in the 
 idea of Eddy Brown s being able to teach any 
 body anything new, but this was felt by no one 
 but the youngest assistant, who, recalling his 
 
 [17]
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 Tripping lightly as 
 we go."\ 
 
 regular programme upon such 
 occasions, smiled somewhat sar 
 donically. 
 
 As she had expected, Eddy 
 inclined to play " Tripping 
 lightly as we go." His concep 
 tion of the process implied in 
 the song was a laborious jump 
 ing up on one toe and down on 
 the other. This exercise he 
 would keep up till the crack of 
 doom if undiverted from it. 
 When induced to stop, he signalled to Joseph 
 Zukoffsky to take his place. Joseph, on being 
 tunefully implored to produce something new in 
 the way of a game, declared for " Did you ever 
 see a laddie ? " and the ring started in blithely : 
 
 Did you ever see a laddie, a laddie, a laddie ; 
 Did you ever see a laddie, do this way or that ? 
 
 After some seconds of consideration Joseph 
 solemnly lifted his left heel from the floor and re 
 placed it. This enthralling diversion occupied 
 [18]
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 the ring for a moment, and then Marantha was 
 summoned. Though plump as a partridge, Mar 
 antha was born for the ballet. 
 
 " Did you ever see a lassie, a lassie, a lassie" 
 sang the children as Marantha, arching her little 
 instep and pointing her toe deliciously, kicked 
 out to one side, almost as high as her waist, with 
 a rhythmical precision good to see. 
 
 Her eyes sought Philip s, and with a coy little 
 smile, she took his hand to lead him to the centre. 
 Too many poets and novelists have analyzed the 
 inevitable longing of woman to allure him who 
 scorns her charms, the pathetic passion to attract 
 
 SO 
 
 " Marantha was born for the ballet." 
 \ 191
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 where she has been brutally repulsed, to make it 
 necessary for me to discuss her attempted endear 
 ments as Philip sulkily flung away her hand. 
 
 Just then somebody wanted a drink ; and as 
 one teacher led the thirsty child away, and the 
 other turned her head to attract the pianist s at 
 tention and propose a new tune, Philip, who had 
 not begun to set his model till the last moment, 
 suddenly lifted his thumb to his nose, contracting 
 and expanding his fingers in strict time. 
 
 Her rapid glance had shown the teacher a ring 
 of children apparently tapping their noses, and 
 only a horrified snort from Mrs. R. B. M. Smith 
 and a murmured " Heavens ! " from the returning 
 assistant called her attention to the circle of chil 
 dren gravely assuming an attitude prescribed no 
 where in Frobel, nor, indeed, in any system, social 
 or Delsartean. 
 
 Philip, now utterly abandoned to the spirit of 
 successful deviltry that intoxicated him beyond 
 control, danced up and down, inviting one, two, 
 and three out of the demoralized ring to share 
 his orgy. They pranced about wildly, shouting 
 [201
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 snatches of song, pushing each other, deaf to 
 the shocked remonstrance of the teachers, while 
 in their midst, 
 flushed and 
 screaming, Philip 
 and Marantha, 
 satyr and bac 
 chante, leaped 
 high in the air. 
 In the door 
 
 " Leaped hiyh in the air." 
 
 there suddenly 
 appeared a wom 
 an in a checked 
 apron with a shawl over her head. As the teach 
 ers pulled the ring-leaders apart, and the pianist, 
 to a shocked murmur of remonstrance, played 
 Triiumerei with the soft pedal down, while a circle 
 of flushed and palpitating " little birds " rocked 
 themselves to sleep with occasional reminiscent 
 giggles and twitters, the woman in the door ad 
 vanced to a little bird whose chief interest, as he 
 ruffled his gingham plumage, seemed to be to 
 evade an obviously maternal call. 
 1211
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 " Philup, ye bad boy, where s the carvin knife? 1 
 she said angrily. This was too much for the 
 youngest assistant, who went off into something 
 very like hysteria, while the principal tried to 
 explain the inevitable bad effect of shocks and 
 slaps upon the delicate organization of the child. 
 
 " An it s beggin y r pardon, Miss, but it s a 
 rale imp o Satan he ll be some days, like, an I 
 see it in his eye this marnin ! An imp o Satan ! " 
 
 The principal smiled deprecatingly. " We 
 don t like to hear a child called that," she said, 
 gently. " Philip has not been so good as usual 
 this morning " 
 
 " Ye may say so ! " interrupted Philip s parent. 
 
 " Philup, ye bad boy, where s the 
 carvin knife ? " 
 
 " An whin it s that way 
 he is, it s little good soft 
 words 11 do, Miss. He 
 gets it from his father. 
 An me not able to cut 
 the mate fer his father s 
 [22]
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 dinner ! He s a sly young one ! It s a good 
 spankin he needs, Miss an hell get it, too ! " 
 
 "Take her into the hall with him. Tell her 
 not to spank him. Tell her we ll punish him. 
 We understand how to make him sorry," mur 
 mured the principal to the youngest assistant, as 
 she turned to quiet the circle. 
 
 The youngest assistant conducted Philip s 
 mother, and dragged Philip to the hall. 
 
 " Now, Philip, tell your mother where you hid 
 the carving knife," she said invitingly. Philip 
 made a break for the outer door. He was caught 
 and reasoned with. Incidentally his naughtiness 
 in leading the game was mentioned. His mother 
 set her jaw and loosened her shawl. 
 
 " An that s what ye did, ye bad boy ? What 
 did I say the last time I see ye at it ? Dirty 
 thrick ! You come here to me, sir ! " 
 
 Philip kicked violently and pinched the young 
 est assistant. Her lips assumed the set expres 
 sion of the other woman s. The light of genera 
 tions of Philistine mothers kindled in her eye. 
 As Philip struggled silently but wildly, the voice 
 [23J
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 of Mrs. R. B. M. Smith, high and resonant, 
 floated through the transom. 
 
 " And so we never strike a little child, Joseph, 
 and you must never talk about it. His mother 
 and Miss Ethel are going to talk with little 
 Philip, arid try to make him see 
 
 Philip ducked under his mother s arm and al 
 most gained the door. The youngest assistant 
 caught him by his apron-string and towed him 
 back. His mother looked around hastily, noticed 
 a small door half open, and caught the youngest 
 assistant s eye. 
 
 " Cellar ? " she inquired. 
 
 The youngest assistant nodded, and as his 
 mother lifted Philip bodily and made for the lit 
 tle door, it was opened for her and closed after 
 her by the only other person in the hall. 
 
 His mother carried Philip to the coal-heap, 
 and upon it she sat and spanked her son 
 spanked him systematically, and after an ancient 
 method upon which civilization has been able to 
 make few if any improvements. She had never 
 read that excellent work, " Child Culture, or 
 [24]
 
 It was opened for her and closed after her. 
 [25]
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 How shall we Train our Mothers ? " (R. B. M. 
 Smith). 
 
 Soon she led him in, subdued and remorseful, 
 the demon expelled, to the principal. 
 
 
 " Spanked him systematically." 
 
 " He ll throuble ye no more, Miss, an 1 the carv- 
 in knife is underneath th 1 bolster av his bed 
 the bad un that he is ! " 
 
 " Now that Philip is good again and you see 
 [20]
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 how quiet he was out in the hall ; I told you he 
 was thinking very hard we ll all sing a song to 
 show how glad we are, and he shall choose it. 
 What would Philip like to sing ? " 
 
 Philip murmured huskily that his heart was 
 God s little garden, and there was more joy over 
 him than over the two dozen that needed no re 
 pentance. 
 
 But the youngest assistant avoided Mrs. R. B. 
 M. Smith s eye, for she had opened the cellar 
 door ! 
 
 " Murmured huskily that his heart 
 was God s little garden."
 
 A STUDY IN PIRACY 
 
 IT might not have occurred to you to find 
 the Head Captain terrible to look upon, 
 had you seen him first without his uniform. 
 There seems to be something essentially pacific 
 in the effect of a broad turn-over gingham collar, 
 a blue neck-ribbon, and a wide straw hat ; and 
 you might be pardoned for thinking him a 
 rather mild person. But could you have encoun 
 tered him in a black cambric mask with pinked 
 edges, a broad sash of Turkey red wound tightly 
 about his waist, and that wide collar turned up 
 above his ears the tie conspicuous for its ab 
 sence you might have sung another tune. 
 His appearance was at such a time nothing short 
 of menacing. 
 
 The Lieutenant was distinctly less impressive. 
 His sash, though not so long as the Head Cap 
 tain s, was forever coming untied and trailing 
 behind him, and as he often retreated rapidly, he 
 T311
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 stumbled and fell over it twice out of three 
 times. This gave it a draggled and spiritless 
 look. Moreover, he was not allowed to turn his 
 collar up except on Saturdays, and the one his 
 sister had made him from wrapping paper had an 
 exotic, not to say amateur theatrical, effect that 
 was far from convincing. The eye-holes in his 
 mask, too, were much too large showing, in 
 deed, the greater part of both cheeks, each of 
 which was provided with a deep dimple. Seen 
 in the daytime, he was not to speak confiden 
 tially very awesome. 
 
 As for the Vicar well, there were obstacles 
 in the way of her presenting such an appearance 
 as she would have liked. In the first place, there 
 was not enough Turkey red to go evenly round, 
 and to her disgust she had been obliged to put 
 up with a scant three-quarters of a yard not a 
 wide strip at that. What was by courtesy 
 called the Vicar s waist was not far from three- 
 quarters of a yard in circumference, which fact 
 compelled her to strain her sash tightly in order 
 to be able to make even a small hard knot, to 
 f 321
 
 A STUDY IN PIRACY 
 
 say nothing of bows and ends. She had no col 
 lar of any kind her frocks were gathered into 
 bands at the neck and she was not allowed to 
 imitate the Lieutenant s ; who, though generally 
 speaking a mush of concession, held out very 
 strongly for this outward and visible sign of a 
 presumable inward and spiritual superiority. So 
 the Vicar, in a wild attempt at masculinity, had 
 privately borrowed a high linen collar of her uncle. 
 The shirts in her uncle s drawer had printed inside 
 them, "wear a seventeen-and-a-half collar with this 
 shirt" so you will not be surprised to learn that 
 the Vicar occasionally fell into the collar, so to 
 speak, and found herself most effectually muzzled. 
 But the worst was her mask. Her hair came 
 down in a heavy bang almost to her straight 
 
 brown eyebrows ; her round, 
 brown eyes were somewhat short 
 sighted ; her eye-holes were too 
 small. In consequence of these 
 facts, whenever it was desirable The Vicar. 
 [331
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 or necessary to see an inch before her nose she was 
 obliged to push the mask up over her bang, when 
 it waved straight out and up, and looked like some 
 high priest s mitre. 
 
 Her title was due to her uncle, who, to do him 
 justice, was as innocent of his influence in the 
 matter as of the loss of his collar. 
 
 " When a person isn t the head of the Pi 
 rates, but is an officer just the same, and 
 has some say about things, what do you call 
 that ? " she asked him abruptly one day. He 
 was reading at the time, and not unnatu 
 rally understood her to say " the head of the 
 parish." 
 
 " Why, that s called a vicar, I suppose you 
 mean," he answered. 
 
 " A vicker ! Does he have some say ? " 
 
 " Some say ? " 
 
 " Yes " - impatiently " some say. He 
 hasn t got to do the way the others tell him all 
 the time, has he ? " 
 
 " Oh, dear, no. Don t you know Mr. Wright, 
 down at the chapel ? He s called the vicar. He 
 [341
 
 A STUDY IN PIRACY 
 
 really manages it, I think. Of course it s not 
 like being the rector " 
 
 " Chapel ? Is that the only kind of vicker, 
 like Mr. Wright ? " 
 
 " Why, of course not, silly ! There are lots of 
 different kinds." 
 
 " Oh ! " and she retired, practising the word. 
 The others were much impressed by her clever 
 ness in discovering such a fascinating title. It 
 savored of wicked and villain, to begin with ; 
 and pursuing the advantage of their previous 
 ignorance of it, she invented several privileges 
 and perquisites of the office, which to deny 
 would argue their lack of information on the 
 subject, a thing she knew they would never 
 own. 
 
 One of these was the right to summon the 
 band, when the Head Captain had decided on an 
 expedition, to any meeting-place she saw fit ; 
 and though in a great many ways her superiors 
 found her a nuisance, the Lieutenant in particu 
 lar objecting in a nagging, useless sort of way to 
 most of her suggestions, they could not but admit 
 f 35 1
 
 THE MADNESS OF P H I I- I P 
 
 that her selection of mysterious, unsuspected ren 
 dezvous was often brilliantly original. 
 
 On one especial occasion, a warm afternoon late 
 in June, when the houses and yards were all 
 quiet, and the very dogs lay still in the shade, 
 the Vicar led them softly to the chicken yard, 
 mystified them by crawling through a broken 
 
 " Crouching along beneath the, perches." 
 
 glass frame into the covered roost, crouching 
 along beneath the perches, and going out again 
 by the legitimate door without stopping to speak.- 
 This effectually silenced the Lieutenant the 
 chicken house seemed an old ruse to him, and he 
 was sniffing in preparation for the expression of 
 his opinion. Out across the yard and twice 
 around an enormous hogshead they walked sol- 
 [361
 
 A STUDY IN PIRACY 
 
 einnly. Such a prelude must mean a great 
 Jinale, and the Head Captain felt decidedly curi 
 ous. The Vicar paused, made a short detour for 
 the purpose of getting two empty boxes, piled 
 them one on the other, and lightly swung herself 
 into the cask. A loud thud announced her safe 
 arrival at the bottom, and flushed with delight 
 at the incomparable secrecy of the thing, the 
 Head Captain followed her. The Lieutenant, 
 grumbling as usual, and very nearly hanging 
 himself in his sash, which caught on the edge, 
 tumbled after, and standing close together in 
 the great barrel they grinned consciously at 
 each other. 
 
 The Head Captain broke the silence. 
 
 " Are we all here ? " he demanded, his voice 
 waking strange and hollow echoes. 
 
 " Yes ! " replied the Vicar delightedly, burst 
 ing with pride. 
 
 " Aye, aye ! " said the Lieutenant with careful 
 formality. 
 
 " Then listen here ! " the Head Captain spoke 
 
 in a hoarse whisper. " This 11 be a different 
 
 [37 1
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 way. This is going to be the real thing. To 
 day we re going to steal ! " 
 
 The Vicar gasped. " Really steal ? " she whis 
 pered. 
 
 " Steal what ? " said the Lieutenant with a 
 non-committal gruffness. 
 
 " I don t know till I get there," replied the 
 Head Captain grandly. "Gold, I suppose, or 
 treasures or something like that. Of course, if 
 we re caught " 
 
 The Lieutenant sucked in his breath with a 
 peculiar whistling noise one of his most envied 
 accomplishments and ran his finger-nail with a 
 grating sound around his side of the barrel. 
 
 "Jim Elder stole some apples from my father s 
 barn, and my father licked him good," he sug 
 gested. 
 
 " Apples ! Apples ! " The Head Captain 
 frowned terribly, adding with biting irony : " I 
 s pose Jim Elder s a Pirate ! I s pose he wears 
 a uniform ! I s pose he knows the ways this 
 gang knows ! I s pose he meets in a barrel like 
 this ! Huh ? " 
 
 [38]
 
 A STUDY IN PIRACY 
 
 There was no answer, and the Head Captain 
 settled his mask more firmly. " Come on ! " he 
 said. 
 
 They looked at the sharp edge of the hogs 
 head ; it was far away. They looked inquiringly 
 at the Vicar ; she dropped her eyes. Oh, 
 Woman, in your hours of ease you can devise fine 
 secret places, you can lead us to them, but can 
 you bring us back to the outer world and the 
 reality you seduced us from ? There was an em 
 barrassing pause. The seconds seemed hours. 
 Would they die in this old, smelly barrel ? 
 
 The Head Captain smiled to himself. 
 
 " I guess you kids never d git out o here unless 
 I showed you how ! " he remarked cheerfully. 
 
 " Forward ! March ! " He took the one step 
 possible, and scowled because they did not follow 
 him. 
 
 " Don t you see ? " he said irritably. " When 
 I say three, fall over. Now, one two three ! " 
 
 He pushed the Lieutenant and the Vicar 
 against the side of the barrel, and precipitated 
 himself against them. The barrel wavered, tot- 
 [39]
 
 THE MADNESS OP PHILIP 
 
 tered, and fell with a bang on its side, the sub 
 ordinate officers jouncing and gasping, unhappy 
 
 " Now, one two three/ 
 
 cushions for their Head Captain, who crawled 
 out over them, adjusted his collar, and strode off 
 across the chicken yard. At the gate they 
 caught up with him. 
 
 " Lieutenant ! " 
 
 "Aye, aye, sir." 
 
 " Go straight ahead and watch out for us. 
 [40]
 
 A STUDY IN PIRACY 
 
 Whistle three times if the coast is clear. Beware 
 of of anything you see ! " 
 
 " Aye, aye, sir." 
 
 The Lieutenant slunk off, a peculiar caution in 
 the slope of his shoulders and his long, noiseless 
 stride. He rounded the barn and disappeared 
 from sight. There was a moment of suspense. 
 Suddenly he ap 
 peared again, his 
 hand raised warn- 
 ingly. 
 
 " Sst, sst ! " he 
 hissed. 
 
 Promptly they 
 skipped behind the 
 wood-house door. In 
 a moment a man s 
 footsteps were audi 
 ble ; somebody was 
 swinging by the barn, 
 
 A peculiar caution in the 
 slope of his shoulders." 
 
 whistling as he went. He called out to the cook 
 as he went by : " Pretty hot, ain t it ? Hey ! I 
 say it s pretty hot ! " 
 
 [41]
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 He was gone. He had absolutely no idea of 
 their presence. The first of the delicious thrills 
 had begun. The Lieutenant, from his post be 
 hind the barn door, could have leaned out and 
 touched him, but he had no idea. From that 
 moment the scenery changed. The yard was en 
 chanted ground, the buildings strange and doubt 
 ful, the stretches between haven and haven full of 
 dangers. 
 
 Presently three soft whistles broke the silence. 
 They glided out around the barn, and scaled the 
 first fence. The Head Captain stopped to caution, 
 the Lieutenant became hopelessly complicated in 
 his sash, so the Vicar got over first. Though 
 plump, she was light on her feet, and had been 
 known to push the others over in her nervous 
 haste ; she threw herself upon a solid board fence 
 in an utterly reckless way, striking the top flat on 
 her stomach, and sliding, slipping down the other 
 side. Her method, thoroughly ridiculous and 
 unscientific as it was, invariably succeeded, and 
 she usually waited a few seconds for them after 
 picking herself up. When one climbs after the 
 [42]
 
 A STUDY IN PIRACY 
 
 " She threw herself over a solid board 
 fence in an utterly reckless way." 
 
 most approved fashion, employing as few separate 
 motions as possible, making every one tell, the 
 result of such slippery, panting scrambles as the 
 Vicar s is particularly irritating. The success of 
 the amateur is never pardonable. 
 
 " Which way, Head Captain ?" 
 
 A dusty forefinger indicated the neighboring 
 barn. 
 
 " Secret way or door ? " 
 
 " Secret way." 
 
 They cast hurried glances about them: nobody
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 was in sight. At the corner of the barn the 
 Lieutenant again performed scout duty, and his 
 three whistles brought them to a back entrance 
 hardly noticeable to the chance explorer of stable 
 yards a low door into a disused cow-house. 
 
 Softly they stole in, softly peeped into the 
 barn. It lay placid and empty, smelling of 
 leather and hay and horses, with barrels of grain 
 all about, odd bits of harness, and tins of wag 
 on grease, wisps of straw, and broken tools scat 
 tered over the floor. Broad bands of sunlight 
 streaked everything. They crept through a lane 
 of barrels, and mounted a rickety stair, heart in 
 mouth. Who might be at the top ? 
 
 A moment s pause, and then the Head Captain 
 nodded. 
 
 " All right, men, 1 he breathed. 
 
 They went carefully through the thick hay 
 that strewed the upper floor, avoiding the cracks 
 and pits that loosened boards and decayed plank 
 ing offered the unwary foot. With unconscious 
 directness the Lieutenant turned to the great pile 
 of hay that usually marked the end of this expe- 
 [44]
 
 A STUDY IN PIRACY 
 
 dition, but the Head Captain frowned and passed 
 by the short ladder that led to the summit. He 
 pushed through an avenue of old machinery, 
 crawled over two old sleighs and under a grind 
 stone frame, and emerged into a dim, almost 
 empty corner. 
 
 The heat of the hay was intense. The stuffy, 
 dry smell of it filled their nostrils. Where the 
 bright, wide ray of sunlight fell from the little 
 window in the apex, the air was seen to be danc 
 ing and palpitating with millions of tiny particles 
 that kept up a continuous churning motion. 
 The perspiration dripped from the Vicar s round 
 cheeks ; she panted with the heat. 
 
 Walking on his tiptoes, the Head Captain 
 sought the darkest depths of the corner, stum 
 bling over an old covered chest. He stopped, he 
 put his hand on the lid. The two attendant offi 
 cers gasped. The Head Captain, with infinite 
 caution, lifted that lid. 
 
 Suddenly a dull, echoing crash shook the floor. 
 The Vicar squeaked in nervous terror. I say 
 squeaked, because with grand presence of mind 
 [45]
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 the Lieutenant smothered her certain scream in 
 the folds of his ever-ready sash, and only a faint 
 
 " Smothered her certain scream in the folds of his ever- 
 ready sash." 
 
 chirp disturbed the deathly silence that followed 
 the crash. The Head Captain s hand trembled, 
 but he held the cover of the chest and waited. 
 Again that hollow boom, followed by a rustling, 
 as of hay being dragged down, and a champing, 
 swallowing, gurgling sound. 
 
 " Nothin 1 but the horses," whispered the Lieu 
 tenant, removing his sash. " Shut up, now ! " 
 [46]
 
 A S T U D V IN" P I R A C Y 
 
 The Vicar breathed again. The Head Cap* 
 tain bent over the chest. 
 
 "Oh! Oh! Oh, fellows! Look a -here!" 
 His voice shook. His eyes stared wide. They 
 crept nearer and caught big breaths. 
 
 There in the old chest, carelessly thrown to 
 gether, uncovered, unprotected, lay a glittering 
 wealth of strange gold and silver treasures. 
 Knobs, cups, odd pierced, shallow saucers, count 
 less rings as big as small cookies, plain bars of 
 metal, heavy rods. 
 
 The Head Captain s eyes shone feverishly, he 
 breathed quick. 
 
 " Here, here, here ! " he whispered, and thrust 
 his hands into the box. He ladled out a handful 
 to the Vicar. For a moment she shrank away ; 
 and then, as a shallow, carved gold-colored thing 
 touched her hand, her cheeks heated red, she 
 seized it and hid it in her pocket. 
 
 " Gimme another," she begged softly, " gim 
 me that shiny, little cup ! " 
 
 If there had been any doubt as to the heavenly 
 reality of the thing, it was all over now. No 
 [47]
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 more need the Head Captain s swelling words fill 
 out the bare gaps of the actual state of the case. 
 Here were the things this was no pretend- 
 game. Here was danger, here was crime, here 
 was glittering wealth all unguarded, and no one 
 knew but them ! 
 
 They gloated over the chest ; their hot fingers 
 handled eagerly every ring and big chain. Only 
 the Lieutenant, sucking in his breath, excitedly 
 broke the ecstatic silence. 
 
 The Head Captain first mastered himself. 
 
 " Hm, that s enough from here!" he com 
 manded with dreadful implication. " Come on. 
 They ll kill us if they catch us ! Soft, now. 
 Don t breathe so loud, Vicar ! " 
 
 Off in a different direction he led them, having 
 closed the box softly, and instead of making for 
 the stairs, stopped before three square openings 
 in the floor. He lay flat on his stomach and 
 peered down one. It opened directly above the 
 manger, and when he had cast down two arm- 
 fuls of hay and measured the distance with his 
 eye, they saw that he meant to drop through, 
 [48]
 
 A STUDY IN PIRACY 
 
 and realized that his blood was up, and heaven 
 knew where he would stop that day. 
 
 The Vicar caught the idea before the Lieutenant, 
 and with characteristic impatience, was through the 
 second hole before the thii-d member of the band 
 had thrown down his first armful. Light as a cat 
 she dropped, scrambled out of the manger, and as 
 a step sounded in the outer barn, dragged the 
 Lieutenant through in an agony of apprehension, 
 stumbled across the great heap of stable refuse, and 
 crouched, palpitating, behind the cow-house door. 
 
 The Head Captain, whom crises calmed and 
 immediate danger heartened, himself crept back 
 into the stable to gather from the sound of the 
 steps the direction taken by the intruder. 
 
 He was talking to the horse. 
 
 "Want some dinner? Ill bet you do. Steal 
 ing hay, was you ? That ll never do." 
 
 It was enough. Soon he would go upstairs to 
 count over the treasures who would ever have 
 supposed that this simple-looking stableman had 
 known for years of such a trove ? and then woe 
 to the Pirates ! 
 
 [49]
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 " Come on, you ! Run for your life ! " he shot 
 at them, and they tore across the yard, over a 
 back fence, and across a vacant lot, panting, 
 stumbling, muttering to each other, the Vicar 
 crying with excitement. The Lieutenant caught 
 his foot in his sash and fell miserably, mistaking 
 them for arms of the law, as they loyally turned 
 back to pick him up, and fighting them with 
 feeble punches. They dragged him through a 
 hedge and took refuge in an old tool-house. 
 
 Slowly they got back breath. The delicious 
 horror of pursuit was lifted from them. It ap 
 peared that they were safe. 
 
 " You goin 1 home, now ? " said the Lieutenant 
 huskily. 
 
 Home ? Home ? Was the fellow mad ? The 
 Head Captain vouchsafed no answer. 
 
 " Forward ! March ! " 
 
 He strode out of the tool-house and made for 
 the barn. A large dog barked, and a voice 
 called : 
 
 " Down, Danny, down ! " 
 
 They returned hastily, and climbed laboriously 
 [50]
 
 A S T r D Y IX PIRACY 
 
 out of a little window on the other side of the 
 tool-house, striking a bee-line for the adjoining 
 property. The treasure jingled in their pockets 
 as they ran stealthily into this barn. The last 
 restraint was cast away, they were on new terri 
 tory. A succession of back-yard cuts had re 
 sulted in their turning a corner, and had they 
 gone openly and in the light of day out into the 
 street, they would have found themselves in an 
 other part of the town. The Head Captain 
 crept in through a low window. He was entirely 
 wrapped up in his dreadful character. Blind to 
 consequences, hardly looking to see if the others 
 followed him, he worked his way over the sill and 
 stared about him. Imagination was no longer 
 necessary. No fine-spun trickery was needed to 
 turn the too-familiar places into weird dens, the 
 well-known barns into menacing danger-traps. 
 Here all was new, untried, of endless possibilities. 
 It was a clean, spacious spot. Great shadowy, 
 white-draped carriages stood along the sides ; a 
 smell of varnish and new leather prevailed. On 
 the walls hung fascinating garden tools : quaint- 
 [51]
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 nosed watering-pots, coils of hose, a lawn foun 
 tain. All was still. The Head Captain strode 
 across the floor, extending his hand with a majes 
 tic sweep. 
 
 " All these things all of em anything we 
 want, we can take ! " he muttered, but not to 
 them. They could plainly see he was talking to 
 himself. Rapt in wild dreams of unchecked 
 depredation he stamped about, fingering the gar 
 den hose, prying behind the carriages, tossing 
 his head and breathing hard. 
 
 Suddenly came a step as of a 
 man walking on gravel. It drew 
 nearer, nearer. For one awful 
 moment the Lieutenant seemed 
 in danger of thinking himself a 
 frightened little boy in a strange 
 barn ; he plucked at his sash ner 
 vously. The next instant two 
 hands fell from opposite direc 
 tions on his shoulders. 
 
 " Get into a carriage quick, 
 Anything we want 
 
 we can take/ 1 quick, quick! 11 hissed the Head 
 [52]
 
 A STUDY IN PIRACY 
 
 Captain, and he heard the Vicar panting as she 
 shoved him under the flap of the sheet that 
 draped a high -swung victoria. She was with 
 him, huddled close beside him on the floor 
 of the carriage, and it seemed hardly credible 
 that the clatter of the Head Captain s hasty 
 dive into the neighboring surrey could have 
 failed to catch the ear of the man who entered 
 the barn. But he heard nothing. He walked 
 by them lazily, he paused and struck a match on 
 the wheel of the victoria, and the smell of tobac 
 co crept in under the sheet. It seemed to the 
 Vicar that the thumping of her heart must shake 
 the carriage. She dared not gasp for breath, 
 but she knew she should burst if that man stood 
 there much longer. It could not be possible 
 that he wouldn t find them. Ah, how little he 
 knew ! Right under his very pipe lay those 
 who could take away everything in his old barn 
 if they chose. Perhaps the very surrey that 
 now held that terrible Head Captain might be 
 gone ere morning, he had such ambitions, such 
 vaulting dreams. 
 
 [53]
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 Thump ! thump ! thump ! went her heart, and 
 the Lieutenant s breath whistled through his 
 teeth. Never in their lives had such straining 
 excitement possessed their every nerve. Oh, go 
 on, go on, or we shall scream ! 
 
 He sauntered by, he opened some door at 
 the rear. The latch all but clicked, when a 
 hollow but unmistakable sneeze burst from the 
 Head Captain s 
 surrey. Imme 
 diately the door- 
 opened again. 
 The man took 
 a step back. 
 All was deathly 
 still, the echoes 
 of their leader s 
 fateful sneeze 
 alone thrilled the 
 hearts of his an 
 guished follow 
 ers. 
 
 "Hum p h ! " " She knew she should burst if that 
 
 [54]
 
 A STUDY IN PIRACY 
 
 muttered a deep voice, " that s queer. Anybody 
 
 out there ? " 
 
 Silence. Silence that buzzed and hummed and 
 
 roared in the Vicar s ears. 
 
 " Queer I thought I heard. . . . Damn 
 
 queer ! " muttered the man. The Lieutenant 
 
 shuddered. That was a word whose possibilities 
 
 he hesitated to consider. Piracy is bad enough, 
 
 heaven knows, 
 but profanity is 
 surely worse. 
 
 Again the 
 *. latch clicked. 
 After an artful 
 pause the nose of 
 the Head Cap 
 tain appeared, 
 inserted at an 
 inquiring angle 
 between the two 
 sheets that 
 draped the sur- 
 
 man stood there much longer." re V- Cautiously
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 he swung himself down, cautiously he tiptoed 
 toward the others. 
 
 " Sst ! Sst ! All safe ! " he whispered. They 
 scrambled out, and a glance at his reserved frown 
 taught them that the recent sneeze must not be 
 mentioned. 
 
 Like cats they crept up the stairs, and only 
 the Head Captain s great presence of mind pre 
 vented their falling backward down the flight, for 
 there on the hay before them lay a man stretched 
 at full length, breathing heavily. His face was a 
 deep red in color, and a strong, sweetish odor 
 filled the loft. They turned about at the Head 
 Captain s warning gesture, and waited while he 
 stole fearfully up and examined the man. When 
 he rejoined them there was a new triumph in his 
 eyes, a greater exaltation in his hurried speech. 
 
 " Come here, Lieutenant ! " 
 
 " Aye, aye, sir." 
 
 " This is a dead pirate. He died defending 
 defending his life. He will be discovered if we 
 leave him here." 
 
 This seemed eminently probable. The Lieu- 
 [561
 
 A STUDY IN PIRACY 
 
 tenant looked alarmed. He took a step or two 
 on the loft floor and returned, relieved. 
 
 " No, he ain t dead, either, 1 he announced, 
 " he s only as 
 
 " He is dead," repeated the Head Captain 
 firmly. " Dead, I say. You shut up, will you ? 
 And we must bury him." 
 
 The Lieutenant looked sulky and chewed the end 
 of his sash. To be so put down before the Vicar ! 
 It was hardly decent. And she, in her usual and 
 irritating way, grasped the situation immediately. 
 
 " We must bury him right off," she whispered 
 excitedly, " before that man gets up here." 
 
 " That man," added the Head Captain, " is a 
 dreadful bad fellow, I tell you. If he was to 
 catch us up here, I don t know I don t know 
 but he d here, come back, Lieutenant ! Come 
 back, I say ! " 
 
 They stole up to the dead pirate, who had not 
 the appearance attributed by popular imagination 
 to those who have died nobly. The Lieutenant 
 was frankly in the dark as to his superior officer s 
 intentions. 
 
 [57]
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 " If you take him off to bury him he ll 
 wake " 
 
 " Hush your noise ! " interrupted the Head 
 Captain angrily. 
 
 The Vicar could not wait for any one else s 
 initiative, but began feverishly pulling up hand- 
 fuls of hay and piling them lightly over the dead 
 pirate s boots. The Head Captain covered the 
 man s body with two hastily snatched armfuls, 
 and as the Vicar s courage gave out at this point, 
 coolly laid a thin wisp directly over the red face. 
 The pirate was buried. It gave one a thrill to 
 see hardly a dim outline of his figure. 
 
 " Hats off , my men," whispered the Head 
 Captain, hoarse with emotion, "and we will say 
 a prayer. Lieutenant," with a noble renuncia 
 tion in his expression, "you may say the 
 prayer ! " 
 
 The Lieutenant was touched, and melted from 
 his sulky scorn. 
 
 " What ll I say ? What ll I say ? " he muttered 
 excitedly. " Not Hollow be thy Name ? That s 
 a long one." 
 
 [58]
 
 A STUDY IN PIRACY 
 
 " Now I lay " suggested the Vicar tremu 
 lously. 
 
 " Pshaw, no ! " interrupted the Head Captain. 
 " Not a baby thing like that ! If you don t 
 know one, Lieutenant, I ll make one up. 1 
 
 " No, 111 say one," urged the Lieutenant has 
 tily. " Fll say one, Captain. I ll say my colick 
 that I had yesterday. Wait up a second, till I 
 remember it." 
 
 The heavy, regular breathing continued to 
 come out from under the hay, where lay the 
 martyred pirate. The hens in a near-by hen- 
 yard cackled shrilly, the trilling of an indefati 
 gable canary in the coachman s rooms rose and fell 
 through the hot June air. Red and dripping 
 with the heat, dusty and sprinkled with the hay, 
 the outlaws stood, solemn and tense, starting at 
 the least fancied sound from below. 
 
 The Lieutenant cleared his throat, shut his eyes 
 tight to assist his memory, and began his burial 
 service : 
 
 " Almighty V everlastm" 1 God, who s given 
 unto us, J hy servants, grace by the confession of a 
 
 [59]
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 true faith f acknowledge ili 1 glory of th Eternal 
 Trinity, and and " 
 
 "And in the power of the Divine Majesty " 
 
 prompted the Vicar ostentatiously. 
 
 " Will you keep still, Miss ? Majesty to wor 
 ship the Unity *, we beseech Thee that Thou wouldst 
 
 " * Almighty n everlastiri 1 God. " 
 
 keep - - keep * steadfast, er, woiddst keep \9 
 steadfast 
 
 The Lieutenant paused helplessly. 
 
 " In this faith" added the Vicar with tri 
 umph, dashing on with almost unintelligible 
 rapidity, " and evermore defend sfrom all dver- 
 
 [60]
 
 A STUDY IN PIRACY 
 
 sities, who livest V re ignest one God, world ^thout 
 end. Amen ! " 
 
 She took a necessary breath, and pushed back 
 her mask still further from her tumbled bang. 
 
 The Head Captain was visibly impressed. It 
 had never occurred to him to say a collect. The 
 Lieutenant was not such a poor stick, after all. . 
 
 Gravely he led the way down-stairs and climbed 
 abstractedly through the little window. Some 
 thing was evidently on his mind. 
 
 " The last time I saw that pirate," he began. 
 
 The Lieutenant tripped, and sat down abruptly* 
 
 " The the last time you saw him ? " he 
 stammered. 
 
 " That s what I said," responded the Head Cap 
 tain shortly. " The last time I saw him I didn t 
 s pose Fd have to bury him. He d just got a lot 
 of treasure and stuff and Sst ! Sst ! For your 
 lives !" 
 
 They scuttled off desperately. The ground was 
 new to them, and had it not been for providential 
 garbage barrels and outhouses, they could hardly 
 have hoped to conceal themselves from the man 
 
 [61]
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 who was raking up the yard. To avoid him they 
 dashed straight through his barn, and rounded a 
 summer-house without perceiving a small tea-party 
 going on there, till they ran through it, to their 
 own sick terror, and the abject amazement of the 
 tea-party. They tore through a hedge, panted a 
 doubtful moment in a woodhouse, then took up 
 
 " Then took itp their headlong flight." 
 
 their headlong flight with the vague, straining 
 pace of crowded dreams. On, on, on. Slip be 
 hind that lilac clump wait! Sst! Sst! Then 
 get along ! Oh, hurry, hurry ! Pick up your 
 sash ! Whose is this yard ? Never mind ! hurry ! 
 They dropped exhausted under their own pear 
 tree. 
 
 [62]
 
 A STUDY IN PIRACY 
 
 " My, but that was a close shave ! I thought 
 they d got us sure ! " breathed the Head Captain. 
 
 " Wh-who were they ? " asked the Lieutenant, 
 round-eyed. 
 
 " Who were they ? Who were they ? " the 
 Head Captain repeated scornfully. " The idea ! 
 I guess you d find out who they were if they 
 caught you once ! " 
 
 The Lieutenant shot a sly glance at the Vicar. 
 Did she know ? You never could tell, she pretended 
 so. She shivered at the Head Captain s implication. 
 
 " Yes, sirree, I guess you d find out then," she 
 assured him. 
 
 Suddenly the Head Captain s face fell. "The 
 treasure ! " he gasped. " It s gone ! " 
 
 In dismay they turned out their pockets. All 
 those vessels of gold and vessels of silver were lost 
 - lost in that last mad rush. All but the shal 
 low, gold-colored saucer in the Vicar s hand. 
 They looked at it enviously, but honor kept them 
 silent. To the Vicar belonged the spoils. 
 
 " I don t see what good they were, anyhow," 
 began the Lieutenant morosely. 
 [63]
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 " Good ?" mimicked the Head Captain, en 
 raged. " Good ? Why, didn t we steal em ? " 
 
 Slowly they took off their uniforms and hid 
 them under the back piazza. Slowly the occasion 
 faded into the light of common day ; objects lost 
 their mystery, the barn and the tool-house im 
 perceptibly divested themselves of all glamour. 
 It was only the back yard. 
 
 The Head Captain and the Lieutenant threw 
 themselves down under the pear tree again and 
 fell into a doze. The Vicar, grasping her treas 
 ure, stumbled up the back stairs and took an in 
 formal nap on the landing. It must have been at 
 this time that the gold-colored saucer slipped from 
 her hand, for when she woke on the sofa in the 
 upper hall, it was nowhere about. 
 
 The same hands that had transferred her to 
 that more conventional resting-place, bathed and 
 attired her for supper, and though two hours ago 
 she would, as a pirate, have exulted in her guilty 
 possession, somehow as a neat, small person in 
 pink ribbons she felt shy at approaching the sub 
 ject, and ate her custard in silence. 
 [64]
 
 A STUDY IN PIRACY 
 
 Some time during the hours of the next long 
 morning, as she played quietly on the piazza, she 
 caught her mother s voice, slightly raised to reach 
 the cook s ear : 
 
 "Why, I suppose it is. I shouldn t wonder, Mag 
 gie. I suppose the child picked it up somewhere. 
 Did you hear that, Fred, about Mr. Van Tuyl s 
 
 BWf 
 
 neat, small person in pink ribbons." 
 
 best harness ? All scattered through half the back 
 yards on Winter Street. All those brass ornaments, 
 and parts of the very side-lamps, too. Fortunate 
 ly they found it all. Take that piece, Maggie, 
 and give it to the man when you see him." 
 
 The Vicar sighed. Just then she felt, with the 
 poet, that home-keeping hearts are happiest. 
 
 [6,5]
 
 BOBBERTS MERRY CHRISTMAS 
 
 ND that s how I came to be born in a 
 manger ! " Bobbert concluded. 
 
 The baby nodded, her mouth a com 
 prehending bud, her eyes big with interest. 
 
 " Nuv tory ! Tell Babe nuv tory ! " she de 
 manded. 
 
 " So then the wise men came. They were shep 
 herds. They came with their flocks-by-night " 
 
 " Huh ? " 
 
 "Flocks-by-night, I say. It was something 
 they had. They brought me some Frank s in 
 cense 
 
 " Unka Fank ! Goo-ood Unka Fank ! " 
 
 " Will you keep still ? I twasn t that Frank." 
 
 " Warum nicht?" inquired the baby, with a 
 startling intelligibility. Her German, for some 
 reason best known to herself, was as distinct as 
 her English was garbled. 
 
 " Because it isn t, silly. Uncle Frank isn t a 
 [69]
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 wise man he s a p fessor in college. And they 
 brought me 
 
 " Look here, Bobbert, what on earth are you 
 talking about ? " 
 
 " I m telling her all about Christmas, Uncle 
 Frank." Bobbert removed the corner of the rug 
 from the baby s mouth and handed her her silk 
 rag doll. " Minna said to amuse her, and I was. 
 About the manger I was telling " 
 
 " So I heard. But why do you cast it in that 
 form precisely ? You see, you weren t born in 
 one, and and er you really oughtn t to 
 talk that way, don t you know." 
 
 " Why wasn t I ? " 
 
 " Because you weren t." 
 
 " Well, where was I, then ? " 
 
 " You were born in this house." 
 
 " Where in this house ? " 
 
 " Where ? Why, upstairs, I suppose." 
 
 " Are people always born upstairs ? " 
 
 " Usually." 
 
 " Never born downstairs at all ? Didn t you 
 ever know anybody that was born down - 
 [70]
 
 BOBBER T S MERRY CHRISTMAS 
 
 " Oh, stop, Bobbert ! Go on amusing your 
 sister. You have a genius for pure idiocy. 
 Where s your mother ? " 
 
 Bobbert s face fell. The baby tore off a bit 
 of her doll and swallowed it unrebuked it was 
 one of her swallowing days and began wetting 
 her finger and following in a smudgy outline the 
 figures on the Kate Greenaway wall-paper, with 
 out one reprimand from her brother. 
 
 " F Fm goin to have a tree, I want to make 
 it myself. They re all down in the libYy, and I 
 have to keep out. They ve got a ladder in there, 
 too. And they laugh all the time. I have to 
 stay here with her ! What s the good o calling 
 it my tree if I can t help ? Aunt Helena says 
 won t my eyes pop out when I see ; but they 
 won t." 
 
 (" Hadn t she better keep the doll to play with 
 and eat something else ? ") 
 
 " I think I might go in ! Here, stop eating 
 
 that, Baby ! Let go ! Somebody fell off the 
 
 ladder, too, and there I was out in the hall ! I 
 
 don t believe they had the little back thing up 
 
 [71J
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 that keeps it from doubling up, sort of, that way 
 it does, you know. Do you ? I could a 1 told 
 them about that. What s the good of a tree, 
 anyway ? " 
 
 (" Do you think she improves the wall-paper 
 with that border ? Perhaps the color comes 
 off.") 
 
 " Here, stop that ! Don t suck your hand, 
 Baby. Oh, goodness ! I wish Minna was here. 
 I m not a nurse. I never made such a fuss when 
 I was little, I know. If I had a tree for anybody, 
 I d let them have the fun of it. Wouldn t you ? " 
 
 His audience looked uncertain. In his heart 
 he felt that his nephew was right, but prudence 
 restrained him, and he rose to go with a tempo 
 rizing air. " Well, you know, it s usually done 
 this way," he suggested. " It s supposed to be in 
 the nature of a surprise. If you arranged the 
 whole thing, there wouldn t be anybody to sur 
 prise, would there ? " 
 
 Bobbert sniffed. " Oh, if you stay out, we 
 could s prise you, I s pose," he said, somewhat 
 cynically. 
 
 [72]
 
 BOBBERT S MERRY CHRISTMAS 
 
 Bobberfs father and mother, bubbling over with 
 delight and busyness and vague Christmas good 
 feeling, ran about holding the same parcels, 
 straightening the same red candle, pulling at the 
 same rope of cranberries. 
 
 " Isn t it grand, Frank ? This is really the 
 best we ve ever had. How are the children ? 
 -)o they suspect anything ? " 
 
 tl "Nothing nothing whatever," he assured her. 
 sug)bbert thinks the odor of hemlock and pop- 
 fat s to be attributed to the window-boxes, and 
 with tino doubt that he supposes you re conduct- 
 tache neral down here. It s so still and sol- 
 he shouli 
 
 that she tank, how absurd ! Well, I suppose 
 taste - - -i to suspect - 
 
 " How do ^ sister, your penetration does you 
 " I heard." rt is only nine, and he has only 
 " How ? " nance nine times, so it would be 
 " I heard." have any exact idea of what you 
 " How did b ut he probably has a dim - - " 
 
 ]^ y OU are tiresome. Of course he 
 and tw DU t how can he know the size of it ? He 
 
 [7.5]
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 that keeps it from doubling up, sort of, that way 
 it does, you know. Do you ? I could V told 
 them about that. What s the good of a tree, 
 anyway ? " 
 
 (" Do you think she improves the wall-paper 
 with that border ? Perhaps the color comes 
 off.") 
 
 " Here, stop that ! Don t suck your hand, 
 Baby. Oh, goodness ! I wish Minna was here. )- 
 I m not a nurse. I never made such a fuss wh ing 
 I was little, I know. If I had a tree for anybc. the 
 I d let them have the fun of it. Wouldn t y 
 
 His audience looked uncertain. In hie will de- 
 he felt that his nephew was right, but rx oncluded 
 restrained him, and he rose to go with 
 rizing air. " Well, you know, it s us \ncle slipped 
 this way," he suggested. " It s suppo 
 the nature of a surprise. If you ering to corn- 
 whole thing, there wouldn t be arpes of pop-corn 
 prise, would there ? " vnward ; snowy, 
 
 Bobbert sniffed. " Oh, if you sa the boughs ; 
 could s prise you, I s pose," he said, smcles chat- 
 cynically. V, while 
 [72]
 
 BOBBERT S MERRV CHRISTMAS 
 
 Bobbert s father and mother, bubbling over with 
 delight and busyness and vague Christmas good 
 feeling, ran about holding the same parcels, 
 straightening the same red candle, pulling at the 
 same rope of cranberries. 
 
 " Isn t it grand, Frank ? This is really the 
 best we ve ever had. How are the children ? 
 Do they suspect anything ? " 
 
 "Nothing nothing whatever," he assured her. 
 " Bobbert thinks the odor of hemlock and pop 
 corn is to be attributed to the window-boxes, and 
 I have no doubt that he supposes you re conduct 
 ing a funeral down here. It s so still and sol 
 emn." 
 
 " Oh, Frank, how absurd ! Well, I suppose 
 he does begin to suspect " 
 
 " My dear sister, your penetration does you 
 credit. Bobbert is only nine, and he has only 
 seen this performance nine times, so it would be 
 odd if he should have any exact idea of what you 
 are all doing, but he probably has a dim " 
 
 " Now, Frank, you are tiresome. Of course he 
 knows, but how can he know the size of it ? He 
 
 [7.5]
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 never saw one so big. And we never had so 
 many candles there are three boxes here. And 
 look at this. What do you think Uncle Ritch. 
 has sent him ? " 
 
 One of the aunts waved at him a set of red, 
 blue and yellow balls attached by elastic cords to 
 a brightly colored stick. 
 
 " I suppose the dear old man thinks Bobbert 
 is about two years old ! Where have you put 
 that Japanese juggler s outfit, Kate ? See, Frank, 
 that beautiful French puzzle ! It s awfully inter 
 esting. I hope he 1 !! like it. More candy ? The 
 idea ! The child would die ! Where s Father 
 Robertson s bird-book, dear ? I sha n t dare let 
 him take it alone ; it s too exquisite. See, Frank, 
 there are two hundred and fifty colored plates. 
 Isn t it beautiful ? " 
 
 Bobbert s uncle fell upon the book. " By 
 George ! " he said, " but that s a beauty ! Rather 
 wasted on Bobbert, isn t it? Doesn t know an 
 ostrich from a canary, does he ? " 
 
 " Well, that s what Father Robertson wants 
 him to learn ! " they cried in chorus. 
 [76]
 
 BOBBERT S MERRY CHRISTMAS 
 
 He nodded doubtfully. " Pity he can t come in 
 and help," he suggested, "he d enjoy this rumpus." 
 
 They stared at him in consternation. 
 
 "Why, Francis Robertson, what are you think 
 ing of? Have Bobbert help on his own tree ? 
 Are you crazy?" 
 
 " I suppose it wouldn t do," he admitted, "but 
 you see that s just what a little fellow likes all 
 the noise and fuss and running about and the 
 smells," he added vaguely. 
 
 " The smells ? " demanded Bobbert s mother. 
 
 "The hemlock and the candy and the new 
 smell of all the things," he persisted. 
 
 " In short," said the fat one with the yellow 
 mustache, looking up from a box of many-colored 
 baubles with which he and Aunt Helena were 
 playing in undisguised joy, "just what we like ! " 
 
 " Precisely," remarked Uncle Frank. 
 
 " Really," said Aunt Kate, somewhat stiffly, 
 " if Bobbert and Babe should help about the tree, 
 I can t quite see whom we d call in to see it this 
 evening ! What are we working so hard for 
 to please ourselves ? " 
 
 [77]
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 " Oh, no ! great heavens, no ! " cried Uncle 
 Frank. 
 
 Bobbert s father appeared with an armful of 
 steel rails and cross-pieces. " What do you say 
 to this, Robertson ? " he called delightedly. 
 " Jove ! these are heavy. Three switches to the 
 thing, and you ought to see the engine ! There s 
 a parlor-car, a smoker, and two passengers. See 
 the tender ? Jove ! I call that pretty good. 
 Ring the bell, Kate. Look at that piston-rod, 
 Frank ! " 
 
 They clustered about him excitedly. 
 
 "Father sent it round just now. Wouldn t 
 tell what he paid for the thing. You clamp it 
 down to the carpet right through it goes. There 
 are forty-two feet of railing how s that ? Four 
 curves and three switches regular thing, you 
 know. We ll put it right through the library, 
 across the hall, and loop it back in front of the 
 conservatory. What do you say ? " 
 
 " Won t he be delighted ! " sighed the aunts. 
 
 " Can we get it down before evening ? " said 
 Bobbert s mother nervously. 
 
 [78]
 
 BOBBERT S MERRY CHRISTMAS 
 
 " Well, I should say so ! " The fat one with 
 the yellow mustache seized an armful of rails and 
 began to study the joinings ; Bobberfs father and 
 Uncle Christopher explained the switch-workings 
 eagerly to each other ; and Bobberfs mother flew 
 about wondering how the rugs could stand it, 
 and picturing Bobberfs joy as the train puffed 
 out from the base of the tree. 
 
 " This is great ! " Uncle Christopher cried, as 
 the rails went down with wonderful celerity. 
 " Haven t had such fun in an age ! Half the fun s 
 in getting it ready ! " 
 
 The fat one with the mustache glanced up and 
 caught Uncle Frank s eye. 
 
 " Perhaps he d rather 
 
 Bobberfs mother shook her head at them. 
 " Now stop right there," she said merrily, " if 
 you re going to suggest that he should come 
 down and help ! You don t seem to see my plan 
 at all, Frank. I want this thing to be perfect 
 I want it all to burst on him at once. How can 
 we put it down in the evening when we re all 
 dressed ? And there wouldn t be time, anyway. 
 [79]
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 Oh, Chris, you didn t get him that, too ? See 
 that lovely dog collar ! And the chain, too ! 
 Now Don will look respectable. Just step up 
 stairs, won t you, Frank, and keep Bob on that 
 floor till supper ? Minna will bring it to him 
 up there. Hell see the rails, you see, if he comes 
 down into the hall. Helena, if you and Mr. 
 Ferris eat any more of that broken candy, you ll 
 certainly be sick. No, I- don t mean ill I mean 
 plain sick." 
 
 " Do you mean to say you re not going to let 
 that child out into the dining-room ? He ll be 
 so disgusted there ll be no managing him." 
 
 Bobbert s mother looked plaintive. " I wish to 
 heaven, Frank," she said, " that you had some 
 children of your own ! Perhaps you wouldn t be 
 so ridiculous then. How on earth is it going to 
 hurt Bobbert, to-night of all nights, to stay in 
 the nursery a few hours, just so that we may all 
 toil for his own particular amusement ? Tell 
 him a story, or something. We ll barely have 
 time - - " 
 
 A burst of laughter interrupted her. Uncle
 
 B O B B E R T S MERRY CHRISTMAS 
 
 Christopher had wound up the train and started 
 it on what extent of rail was already laid, to his 
 own great comfort and the disgust of Bobberfs 
 father and the fat one with the mustache, w r ho 
 shrieked at him to 
 "stop it off ," and 
 nervously waved 
 their hands at the 
 engine as it hove 
 down upon the un 
 finished curve at the 
 hearth rug, while 
 Aunt Helena waved 
 a red flag wildly, and 
 Aunt Kate began to 
 pass round a hat for 
 a purse for " the brave girl who risked her life so 
 gallantly to save the train." 
 
 He left them with a chuckle, and began to 
 mount the stairs two steps at a time, just saving 
 himself from falling upon a huddled group at the 
 top of the flight. 
 
 " What are they doing in the hall ? " Bobbert 
 
 [81 ] 
 
 What ara they doing in the hall ? "
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 demanded, abruptly, clutching the baby s skirts 
 with one hand and supporting himself in a peer 
 ing attitude with the other. " What makes em 
 scream that way ? Why do they say, Down 
 brakes ? Is it a game ? When Aunt Helena 
 laughs and laughs that way, she usually cries 
 afterward." 
 
 Uncle Frank towed them back into the nurs 
 ery, and led the conversation story ward, but Bob- 
 bert was not to be beguiled. 
 
 " I m tired of stories. I d rather be down 
 stairs," he yawned. "I know one thing if I get 
 another old carpenter s set, I ll sell it to-morrow 
 for five cents. I hate em. All I want s a boat, 
 and I can t have that. I don t see why I can t go 
 out, if it is snowing. I never can do a single thing 
 I want, anyway." 
 
 " You are a little cross," observed his uncle, 
 surveying him critically, " but I don t know that 
 I blame you. Minna s coming up soon." 
 
 " Well, she better." Bobbert scowled at the 
 baby, who smiled sweetly back. 
 
 " You re bad," he said, shortly. 
 [82]
 
 BOBBEET S M E R R Y CHRISTMAS 
 
 " Oh, ne in" she 
 
 Oh, nfin, she smiled. 
 Oh, ja, he scowled." 
 
 smiled. 
 
 "Oh, jfl," he 
 scowled. " You re 
 always chewing 
 the wrong thing. 
 
 jf 
 
 y Look at 
 
 J your shoe, 
 
 JT all wet! 
 
 What ll Minna 
 
 2 11 
 
 say r 
 
 She screwed her 
 face into wrinkles 
 
 [83]
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 and shook her head, wringing her hands with 
 Minna s gesture. " Pfni ! pfui dock ! s ist 
 abscheulich ! " she scolded. 
 
 " I don t believe you ll get a present at all," he 
 continued. 
 
 " Babe get p es t ! Babe get big p es t ! " 
 
 " Not a one ! Not a one ! " he persisted. 
 
 Her eyes filled ; she implored him earnestly. 
 
 "Fease, Babe get big p es t ! " 
 
 Not a " 
 
 " Stop teasing your sister, Bobbert. Of course 
 she ll get a present. Why not ? " 
 
 " Because she swore." 
 
 " What on earth do you mean ? " 
 
 " I mean what I say." 
 
 " When did she swear ? " 
 
 " Day before yesterday night. She said she 
 was going to be bad when she got up, and 
 they kept at her to say she wouldn t and she 
 said she would. She can be the worst you ever 
 saw." 
 
 " Worse ever saw ! " echoed the baby. 
 
 " And all day they were afraid she would be, 
 [84]
 
 B O B B E R T S MERRY CHRISTMAS 
 
 and she wasn t and she wasn t, and she wasn t. 
 
 Not till she went to bed. And she said her 
 
 prayers that one she says, HOT Jesus, mild 
 
 and something 
 
 Du and then she 
 
 just looked right up 
 
 at the ceiling and 
 
 swore as hard as she 
 
 could." 
 
 "What in th - 
 time did she say ? " 
 
 " She said : O 
 Lord ! Good Heavens ! 
 Damn ! " 
 
 " Oh ! " 
 
 "And she got her 
 little hands mighty well slapped, too. She must 
 never say it again, must you, Baby ? " 
 
 The baby laughed impishly. There was no 
 telling what more she knew. 
 
 At exactly half-past six the library doors flew 
 open with a bang, the piano struck up a brilliant 
 march and Minna escorted her charges pompously 
 [85] 
 
 Oh Lord ! Good Heavens ! 
 Damn ! "
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 down the stairs, the baby in white, with a be 
 wildering number of pink bows, Bobbert in a blue 
 sailor suit. 
 
 Around the gleaming tree stood a ring of 
 aunts, uncles and grandparents, flushed and 
 happy. 
 
 " Merry Christmas, Bobbert ! Merry Christ 
 mas, Babe! How do you like it ? Isn t it grand ? 
 See the angel ? See the pop-corn ? Don t look 
 at the floor yet ! (No, it isn t time so soon. 
 Chris will start it.) Well, was it lovely, bless 
 her little heart ? Wunderschon, liebchen, nicht 
 wahr ? " 
 
 Bobbert smiled perfunctorily at the tree, 
 blinked a little, leaped through the ring of bright- 
 frocked relatives, and fell upon a red- faced, apolo 
 getic man standing with the group of delighted 
 servants near the door. 
 
 " Hello David ! " he cried. " When did you 
 come back ? Are you going to stay ? Did you 
 know I could swim ? Will you tell me a story 
 to-night ? " 
 
 David, whose only fault was too great an at- 
 
 [86]
 
 BOBBERTS MERRY CHRISTMAS 
 
 tachment to the cup that cheered him too fre 
 quently, and who had been devoted to Bobbert, 
 coughed deprecatingly and explained : " Only 
 dropped in for the tree, Mr. Bob, your papa 
 havin 1 asked me in with the rest. And a fine 
 tree it is, Fin sure. I expect most o them pres 
 ents will be for you, Mr. Bob ? " 
 
 David prefixed the title of respect in public, 
 but his private relations with Bobbert had been 
 anything but formal. 
 
 Aunt Kate, dancing with impatience, had be 
 gun to detach the presents from the lower boughs, 
 and soon they were piling up around him. 
 
 " Master Robertson Wheeler. Master Robert 
 son Wheeler oh, Bobbert, that s a whopping 
 fine present. Miss Dorothea Wheeler. Siehst 
 du, mein susses Kind ? Master Robertson Wheel 
 er. See what Uncle Ritch. sent you, Bob ! He 
 forgot how you had grown ! " 
 
 They were laughing, explaining, thanking, 
 eating, all at once. 
 
 " And the candy, motherll keep till to-morrow. 
 Now, Bob, see ! Under the tree ! " 
 [87]
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 The engine rattled proudly forth. The uncles 
 and aunts fell upon it. 
 
 " There ! I told you it wasn t oiled enough ! 
 See, where the smoke-stack joins on ! Will she 
 take the curve by the rug? See, Bobbert, how 
 the switches work ! Real switches ! Father ! 
 Here, this way, Father Robertson ! Mr. Ferris 
 is going to work the switch. Isn t it wonderful, 
 Bobbert ? It s from Grandpa Wheeler. Thank 
 him. It goes through the hall. Oh, Kate, you 
 can t work that switch, can you ? See Aunt 
 Kate work the switch, dear." 
 
 Bobbert watched it curiously. He ran for 
 ward to the third switch. 
 
 " Want to see how it goes, Bob ? Here, I ll 
 work it for you. It s a little catchy at first. 
 Yes indeed, Mr. Robertson, we had more fun 
 than a little getting this ready, I assure you. 
 Quite complete, isn t it ? " 
 
 Uncle Christopher began to juggle with the 
 Japanese outfit, to the intense delight of the ser 
 vants. The aunties and Mr. Ferris played with 
 the engine explaining its mechanism to the won- 
 [88]
 
 BOBBERT S MERRY CHRISTMAS 
 
 dering grandfathers. Grandma Wheeler marvelled 
 at the French dissecting puzzle. Bobbert s mother 
 happily guarding the candy, laughed at the baby, 
 who, harnessed into the dog collar, pranced along 
 before her father, waving the colored balls in the 
 air, a woolly lamb under her free arm. The 
 merry moments passed. 
 
 Suddenly Grandfather Wheeler looked up from 
 the bird-book, which he was sharing with Uncle 
 Frank. " But where is Robertson, Jr. ? " he in 
 quired mildly. 
 
 They stared. " Why, right here, 1 they said. 
 But he was not right there. 
 
 Uncle Frank looked about comprehensively at 
 the relatives and smiled a superior smile. Then 
 his eye fell on the bird-book in his lap, and the 
 smile changed its quality. 
 
 He glanced at the ring of servants. " And 
 where is David ? " he added. Suddenly he sprang 
 to his feet. "Come on!" he said. "We ll 
 find him. Don t make a noise walk softly, 
 now." 
 
 And still holding the presents, they trooped 
 [89]
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 after him through the hall, Bobbert s mother 
 close to the leader, the aunties and Mr. Ferris at 
 the end of the line. Through the dining-room, 
 through the wide pantry, through the hall, and 
 up to the kitchen door they tip- toed. 
 
 Uncle Frank paused a moment, nodded, and 
 made room for Bobberfs father, while the grand 
 fathers crowded up and the aunties peeped under 
 and over. 
 
 On the floor before the well-swept kitchen 
 hearth sat David ; beside him, a little space away, 
 squatted Bobbert, a long black hockey-stick in 
 his hand. Between them were arranged large 
 pieces of coal from the hod arranged in what 
 appeared to be nine-pin patterns. 
 
 " I shall attack from the right at daybreak. 
 You ll see what the Mosquito Fleet can do, Mr. 
 David ! Your clumsy old Spanish ships can t 
 move quick enough ! Can they ? " 
 
 " Wait and see, Bob, my boy ! " 
 
 " This coal makes dandy ships don t it ? A 
 lot of coal would be a fine present wouldn t it? 
 They use wood upstairs, and I don t believe I 
 [90]
 
 B O B B E K T S MERRY CHRISTMAS 
 
 could get hold of any. Are you enjoying your 
 self, David ? " 
 
 " You bet I am, Bob. Put your flagship in 
 line." 
 
 " Well, I will. She was out for for repairs. 
 When I go skating, David, I ll never use any 
 other hockey-stick. I wanted a black one next 
 to a boat. You were lovely to give it to me. 
 Til be big enough for a boat next year, I 
 hope." 
 
 " Well, now it s daybreak. Lieutenant, are 
 you ready ? " 
 
 " Aye, aye, sir." 
 
 " Begin the fight ! " 
 
 " Aye, aye, sir." 
 
 The coal flew about thick and fast, the com 
 manders shuffled the lumps into place, cheering 
 and encouraging their officers and crews. Ship 
 after ship sank, to rise no more, in a clatter of 
 coal on the hearth. 
 
 Under cover of the noise Uncle Frank led 
 them away, silent, through the empty rooms, to 
 where the deserted Christmas tree sheltered only 
 [911
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 Minna, cooing German cradle-songs to her sleep 
 ing baby. 
 
 " Now look here," he said. " Let s be sensible, 
 dear people. We ll go on enjoying our presents 
 and sports and let Bobbert enjoy his. Why 
 not, eh ? " 
 
 [92]
 
 THE HEART OF A CHILD
 
 THE HEART OF A CHILD 
 
 THE sun-glare lies on the road and the 
 field and the house. The beetles buzz 
 and buzz, and the hens chuckle drowsily, 
 half sunk in the gray dust. There are only three 
 little white clouds in all the warm blue sky. It is 
 quite still, except for the hens and the beetles and 
 the occasional flap of the collie s tail on the warm 
 flags. No one passes up or down the road. It is 
 the hot noon sleep of the country in August. 
 
 Suddenly comes the grating sound of something 
 dragged over the floor, and the door opens. The 
 Child pushes out with a little wooden rocking- 
 chair and a great tin pan heaped with unshelled 
 peas. She stands the chair carefully in the coolest 
 patch of shade and squeezes her plump little body 
 between the curved arms. Her blue-checked 
 apron is tied by the waistband around her neck 
 - it is a grown woman s apron, and covers her 
 and the chair, which is far too small for her, now. 
 [95]
 
 THE M A D N K S S OF PHILIP 
 
 But one cannot be always eight years old, and 
 when one is eleven shall one relinquish without a 
 pang the birthday gifts of one s childhood ? 
 
 She lays the pan beside her and puts a handful 
 of peas into her blue-checked lap. She presses 
 her brown little thumb against the sharp green 
 edge and drags it down the pod. Out patter the 
 little green balls, and rattle into the pan. Truly, 
 a pleasant sound ! Like the rain on the roof. 
 When she was very little and slept with her 
 mother, she woke once in the night, and it was 
 raining hard. The thunder frightened her, and 
 her mother comforted her and sang her to sleep 
 in the bed. And when the lightning flashed and 
 all the room was bright and dreadful, her mother 
 told her to keep her eyes shut and then the flashes 
 would not trouble her. So she screwed her eyes 
 hard together and held her mother s hand and 
 drifted off to sleep. 
 
 That was so long ago ! But whenever any 
 thing rattles and patters she shuts her eyes quickly, 
 and sees for a moment the dark room and the 
 square white counterpane, and hears her mother 
 [96]
 
 THE HEART OF A CHILD 
 
 singing " Mary of Argyle." She wonders if when 
 we die and go to heaven we are reminded by little 
 sights and sounds of what we used to do on earth. 
 Of course, we shall do only pleasant things there, 
 but they might remind us of the pleasant things 
 here the pasture in the early morning, when it 
 is so still and cool and almost strange ; the barn, 
 full of sweet piles of hay, musical with pigeons, 
 checkered with amber sunlight, a fairy palace on 
 whose fragrant divans one sits with sultans and 
 slave girls, and listens to Sindbad and Aladdin ; 
 the shady porch, where cool white milk and dark 
 shiny gingerbread wait the weary, berry-stained 
 wanderer. In the brown book in the parlor is a 
 poem about a little girl who used to " take her 
 little porringer and eat her supper there." The 
 Child feels like that little girl when she eats in 
 the porch. 
 
 There is another little girl in the brown book 
 " Sweet Lucy Gray." She thinks of Lucy when she 
 comes home alone at dusk, and quickens her steps. 
 
 For some maintain unto this day 
 
 She is a living child 
 
 [97]
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 How frightened she would be ! Not that the 
 Child has been foolishly taught to fear. Only that 
 she is imaginative, and knows enough to be afraid. 
 
 In that poem there is mention of one " minster- 
 clock." What may that be ? She connects it 
 hazily with the watch that the minister takes out 
 before the sermon. But that could never strike. 
 If she could have one wish in all her life she 
 knows what it would be. A beautiful gold watch 
 all chased with figures and a cherry-colored ribbon 
 tied into the handle. Then she would put it into 
 her waist but her dresses open in the back ! The 
 disadvantages of youth are obvious enough, in 
 all conscience, without that last pathetic touch. 
 When can she have a separate waist and skirt ? 
 
 Suppose she should die before she grows old 
 enough to attain this glory ? People have died 
 when they were young much younger than she. 
 The little Waters girl died, and she was only nine. 
 The Child went to the funeral, but not with her 
 mother. She slipped into the kitchen and listened 
 at the door. When she told her mother that she 
 had gone her mother looked at her so strangely. 
 [98]
 
 THE HEART OK A CHILD 
 
 " Why did you want to go ? " she said. The 
 Child could not tell. 
 
 " It made me cry," she answered, " but I felt 
 good, too. I want her to tell my brother that I 
 am pretty well, and that I hope he is the same, 
 when she gets to heaven. Do you suppose she 
 will get there by to-night ? " 
 
 They talked about her conduct on that occasion 
 so strangely and so long that she never spoke any 
 more with them about death or the life after it. 
 But she thought about these things. 
 
 She wondered whether Mary Waters remem 
 bered the secret place they made together in a 
 hollow gate-post. Mary Waters had a way of 
 sometimes telling things not quite as they really 
 were. Did she do so now ? Or had she told 
 enough lies to send her to hell ? For liars inherit 
 hell. It is not that this fact has been impressed 
 upon her mind by others, but she has read it in 
 the Bible and heard it read. 
 
 There are strange things in the Bible. One is 
 commanded to refrain from doing so many things 
 that one never would do anyway. But those 
 [99]
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 things must have been done by the Israelites and 
 the Pharisees and the Hittites and the Publicans. 
 Then did God mean that the Americans must 
 keep the same laws ? But Americans were free 
 and equal. They threw over the tea, and with 
 a wild whoop wait ! let us pretend ! 
 
 This is Boston. It is still and quiet. Night 
 is dark all around. Soft and stealthy come foot 
 steps the Indians ! They gather from the 
 shadows of the trees and houses, they wave their 
 tomahawks exultantly, they glide to the wharf. 
 In their path stands a little girl in a blue-checked 
 apron. She falls upon her knees in terror. 
 
 " Save me ! " she cries. The chief laughs a 
 horrid laugh ; he raises his tomahawk the dog 
 barks loud and the Child nearly drops the peas 
 in her lap, so frightened she is. 
 
 " I thought they were real ! I thought they 
 were coming ! " she whispers to herself. 
 
 Let us think of pleasant things ! Peas are so 
 small if you count them by ones ! If people con 
 sidered whenever they gobbled peas so quickly 
 that every one had to be shelled by one poor, 
 [100]
 
 THE HEART OF A CHILD 
 
 tired little girl ! But no, they eat them with 
 out a thought of how she sat in the little tight 
 chair and rattled them into the pan. If they 
 were only rich enough to leave the chair and the 
 peas and the farm and go to a city ! What 
 city ? Oh, New York or Boston or Persia. In 
 Persia the days are full of richness and the 
 nights are Arabian. Along the streets walk 
 veiled and lovely women does it matter that to 
 the Child their veils are of the dull blue cotton 
 that wreathes her mother s hat ? By all the Per 
 sian monarch*, no ! driving black dogs and 
 white hinds, followed by turbaned slaves and 
 glaring eunuchs, with misty genii hovering in the 
 background. They enter a frowning portal 
 but let us pretend ! 
 
 This is Persia. The streets are narrow ; the 
 people jostle and crowd to one side a little girl in 
 a blue-checked apron. She walks along unknown, 
 unnoticed. Wait ! Who is this ? It is a slave 
 in a turban with a scimitar flashing with jewels. 
 He bows low. 
 
 " I am bidden to tell you that your presence 
 [101]
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 is desired by my master, lovely maiden ! " The 
 lovely maiden looks haughtily at him. 
 
 " I will follow you, Slave," she says. They go 
 on to a low narrow door. The slave says a magic 
 word and the door swings open. Through a long 
 passage and a great hall they go. There bursts 
 upon them a radiance of light. Flowers fill the 
 air with an unearthly fragrance. Golden goblets 
 and ruby pitchers stand on silver salvers with 
 "dried fruit, cakes, and sweetmeats, which give an 
 appetite for drinking." Lovely slave girls lead 
 the maiden to the bath, and attire her in rich and 
 costly robes. They seat her in a golden chair 
 and give her a bowl of seed-pearls to string. 
 (These are the pearls.) She lifts her lovely head 
 and says in a voice of silver music, " Where is 
 your master ? " 
 
 " Lady," says one of the slaves, bowing low, 
 " he comes." She hears the feet of the approach 
 ing prince ; she dares not raise her eyes. How 
 will he look ? What gift will he bring ? She 
 sinks her hands deep in the pearls. Ah, what is 
 that ? A great sweet-bough drops in the pan. 
 [102]
 
 THE HEART OF A CHILD 
 
 " Your gran ma wants them peas ! " says the 
 prince in genial rebuke. Alas ! And did Ha- 
 roun-al-Raschid speak through his nose ? 
 
 The Child stares at him, dazed. 
 
 " These these are pearls ! " she says. " I am 
 
 " These are the pearls." 
 
 stringing them for my girdle! Does your Highness 
 desire that I should wear this this carbuncle ? " 
 
 His Highness laughs loud and long. 
 
 " It s a sweet- bough," he chuckles, " and I 
 guess you better eat it right up, now. 1 One mo 
 ment of wavering : shall awful wrath come upon 
 this desecrator of the soul s best rites, or good 
 
 [103]
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 fellowship and feasting be given him ? She 
 scowls, she shrugs her aproned shoulders, she 
 glances from beneath her lashes, she smiles. 
 
 " 111 give you half," she announces. After all, 
 it is hardly probable that the prince would have 
 helped her shell the peas. And William Searles 
 will, if he is only the chore-boy. Vain hope ! 
 
 " I got to drive the chickens round back, 11 he 
 demurs. " I can t spend my time shellin 1 peas. 
 Your gran ma says if you don t get em done 
 pretty soon you can t go over to Miss Salome s 
 this afternoon. She says you re a dreadful slow 
 child ! " 
 
 This is the last straw. The Child rises with 
 what would indeed be a freezing dignity were it 
 not that with her rises the birthday-chair. 
 " William," she begins. But more suddenly than 
 is consistent with her tone she sinks back. Will 
 iam sits upon the grass shaking with laughter. 
 
 "You looked so awful funny, so awful funny! " 
 he gasps. The Child hangs for a moment be 
 tween tears and laughter. Then she accepts the 
 situation and laughs as merrily as the chore-boy 
 [104]
 
 THE HEART OF A CHILD 
 
 " I was pretending I was a princess," she ex 
 plains. " I - 
 
 " Ho ! " rejoins William, "you ain t like a prin 
 cess ! You don t look like the ones you tell about, 
 anyway ! Why " as she glares at him over the 
 apron, " your hair s red, red ! An your eyes are 
 kind o green, they are ! An 1 you re just jam- 
 packed full o freckles ! I guess I know well 
 enough how they look, and you ain t like em ! " 
 
 The tears stand in her eyes, but she will not 
 let them fall. 
 
 " I don t care, William Searles," she says 
 bravely, " I may look freckled, but I don t feel so! 
 And it s better to know how they look than " 
 But no ! She is an honest Child, with all her 
 imaginings. She knows that it is better to look 
 like them than to know about them : better for 
 the maiden and the prince, at least. William 
 waits for the sentence. She begins again. 
 
 " William Searles," she says solemnly, " wouldn t 
 you rather I could tell you about those princesses 
 than look like them ? " William s eyes sparkle 
 greedily. 
 
 [105]
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 ** You bet ! " he replies with fervor. The 
 Child sighs with relief. 
 
 " All right," she says, " then don t complain." 
 
 She is alone again, and only William s faint 
 and fainter invitations to the chickens break the 
 silence. The peas fly into the pan. Suppose 
 she should be kept from Miss Salome s ! But no, 
 that shall not be. She looks ahead to the 
 happy afternoon, singing as she works. 
 
 And now, and now the time has come. The 
 dishes are wiped, the cat fed, and the fennel 
 picked for the long sermon to-morrow. She, her 
 very self, in her new dotted lawn walks carefully 
 up the hill to the big house, terraced and gravel- 
 pathed. She knocks timidly at the brass ring 
 and the tall colored butler lets her in. He is the 
 only indoor man-servant she has ever seen, and 
 she reverences him greatly. He smiles conde 
 scendingly at her, as he smiles not upon all the 
 country people. 
 
 " If Miss will walk up," he says. She goes up 
 the soft-carpeted stairs into the upstairs drawing- 
 room. She draws a long breath of happiness and 
 [106]
 
 THE HEART OF A CHILD 
 
 wonder ever new, and makes her little courtesy to 
 Miss SaLome. 
 
 Out of the dim delicious dusk of the room 
 come slowly the. familiar treasures : the high pol 
 ished desk, the great piano, the marvelous service 
 of Delft that fills a monstrous sideboard in the 
 distance, the chairs, all silk and satin and shining 
 wood, the great pictures in gilt frames. In the 
 largest chair sits Miss Salome. Will the Child 
 ever tire of looking at her pale lined face, her sil 
 ver high-dressed hair, her beautiful hands spar 
 kling with rings, her haughty mouth, her tired, 
 troubled eyes ? She must have been almost as 
 lovely as the Princess Angelica, once. But she 
 smiles so seldom. She puts out her hand. 
 
 " And what has happened since last Satur 
 day ? " she says. 
 
 The Child laughs for pure joy. To talk, to 
 describe, to venture at analysis, to ask the why 
 and wherefore, to illustrate by gesture as vivid as 
 her speech these things are her happiness. To 
 be suffered this joy in snatches is much, to have 
 it demanded, and for one whole afternoon ! Here
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 is no one to reprove, no one to blame the idle 
 hands, no one to question the propriety of mim 
 icry, or to insist on her sitting in her little chair. 
 
 Miss Salome watches her flitting about the 
 dusky parlor, her reddish gold hair gleaming now 
 against the Delft blue, now against the polished 
 mahogany desk. She tells of the chickens that 
 lost their mother. She wanders about clucking 
 for her brood and cooing over the returned prodi 
 gals. She walks across the room as William does 
 her slouching gait, open mouth, drawling voice, 
 irresistibly perfect. She describes the shooting 
 star that seemed to her like a lost spirit, gone to 
 sorrow and the earth. 
 
 " It made me think of Lucifer, son of the 
 morning, how art thou fallen ! " she says sol 
 emnly. " I wonder how that star felt, Miss Sa 
 lome ? " 
 
 There is a long pause. The lady sighs. 
 
 Then, " You may read, if you like," she says 
 at last. 
 
 The Child s face flushes for joy. She runs to 
 the book-cases and brings out a small brown 
 
 f 108 1
 
 THE HEART OF A CHILD 
 
 book. She fingers lovingly the tree -calf that 
 covers the precious pages, and opens them before 
 she finds her chair. She curls up on a great satin 
 ottoman and smooths the leaves. Where is the 
 farm ? Where the peas ? Where William ? 
 They are less than shadows, more unreal than 
 dreams. Her voice trembles as she begins : 
 
 " And now, your Highness permitting, I shall 
 relate to your Majesty one of the most surprising 
 adventures ever known to your Majesty 1<l 
 Ah, it is good to have been a child and per 
 fectly happy. 
 
 What do children know of life, she thinks, who 
 play with tops and dogs and kittens ? There are 
 books in the world. And they own all lands 
 and seas and peoples, who own those printed 
 leaves. Even Miss Salome does not know as 
 much as the books. Even Miss Salome cannot 
 say such curious wonderful things. Why is Miss 
 Salome so good to her ? In heaven, will they 
 see each other ? " In my Father s house are 
 many mansions." Suppose she should be put in 
 Miss Salome s ? Will the " Arabian Nights " be 
 [109]
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 there ? When she lifts her eyes from the book 
 they fall on an immense peacock -feather fan. It 
 glows on the wall, and the eyes dilate and trem 
 ble and satisfy her hungry little soul with the 
 color she loves. On a small table near her stands 
 a sandal-wood cabinet. Its faint sweet smell 
 mingles with the spices and gums of the tale, and 
 should a Genius spring from the cover and bow 
 to the ground before them, she would not be sur 
 prised. 
 
 With a sigh of pleasure she releases the prin 
 cess and outwits the evil spirit. 
 
 " And now if your Majesty would care to 
 listen to the story of the Fisherman 
 
 " That is enough," says Miss Salome. " Are 
 you tired ? " The Child s eyes answer her. 
 
 " Then sing to me." 
 
 " What shall I sing ? " says the Child. " Lord 
 LovelP"? 
 
 " If you like," answers Miss Salome. 
 
 The Child rises and stands before the great 
 chair. Her face is raised and serious. She 
 knows only ballads, but to her they are opera 
 
 I HOI
 
 THE HEART OF A CHILD 
 
 and symphony in one. She clasps her hands and 
 
 begins : 
 
 Lord Lovell he stood at his castle gate, 
 A-combing his milk-white steed, 
 When out came Lady Nancy Bell, 
 To wish her lover good spee-ee-eed, 
 To wish her lover good speed. 
 
 Her voice rings true as a bell. Miss Salome 
 smiles at the eager little face. 
 
 J J J * * * N J / J 
 
 " Now where are you going, Lord Lovell ? " she said, 
 " Now where are you going ? " said she. 
 " I m going away, dear Nancy Bell, 
 
 Strange countries for to see-ye-ye, 
 
 Strange countries for to see ! " 
 
 She carries them through fateful verses and un 
 consciously softens and saddens her voice at the 
 woful ending, where 
 
 They buried the lady in the nave of the church, 
 They buried the lord in the choir. 
 And out of her bosom there grew a red rose, 
 And out of her lover s a brier-ier-ier, 
 And out of her lover s a brier. 
 [Ill]
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 Miss Salome applauds vigorously. 
 
 " One more," she begs. 
 
 The Child s heart grows big with happiness. 
 That she should love it so, and yet with it pleas 
 ure others ! It is too much joy. She will make 
 a special prayer to-night and thank God, as does 
 her grandmother, for unexpected bounty. 
 
 " I will sing, Come with thy lute, " she says. 
 It is a quaint, old-fashioned tune, and her voice 
 rises and falls, and reaches for the notes with an 
 almost pathetic feeling for their beauty : 
 
 Moderate. 
 
 Come with thy lute to the fountain, 
 Sing me a song of the mountain. 
 Sing of the happy and free : 
 
 She looks at the lovely lady in the white satin 
 gown in the great gold frame before her. How 
 beautiful she must have been ! She died when 
 she was very young. Her husband shot himself 
 with grief for her. She might have sung that 
 [112]
 
 THE HEART OF A CHILD 
 
 song to him who knows ? The Child chokes 
 and swallows her tears at the end of the song, 
 and when she looks at Miss Salome she sees that 
 her eyes, too, are full of tears. 
 
 " Oh, I have made you cry ! I am sorry so 
 sorry ! " 
 
 Miss Salome wipes her eyes. 
 
 " If I make my guests unhappy, they will not 
 care to come again," she says. " Ring for Peter, 
 dear child." So the Child taps the bell, and 
 Peter comes gravely in with the beautiful silver 
 tray, and in a flutter of delight the Child forgets 
 the song and the picture. Miss Salome cuts the 
 dark frosted cake, and dishes into glass plates 
 the candied ginger, floating in syrup, and pours 
 out cups of real tea. And the Fairy Princess is 
 served with a banquet worthy of her dreams. 
 Oh, to be at last in Miss Salome s mansion ! 
 
 The clock chimes for half-past five. Heaven 
 is over. She brushes the crumbs to a little heap 
 on her gilt-rimmed plate. 
 
 " I must go now, I think," she says with ob 
 vious effort. Her hostess smiles.
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 " But you will come next week ? " she asks. 
 And the Child s face lights up. 
 
 " Oh, yes ! I ll surely come next week, surely? 
 she replies with emphasis. So she goes around 
 to Miss Salome s chair, and the beautiful ringed 
 hand raises her face and strokes her little freckled 
 cheek. 
 
 " Good-by, my Sunshine ! " she says. The 
 Child catches the hand in a rush of loving wor 
 ship and kisses it. 
 
 " I will never be cross to William Searles 
 again, never ! " she cries. " I will be good to 
 everybody even to stupid people ! " Miss Sa 
 lome pinches her cheek and laughs. 
 
 And the Child goes out and down the steps of 
 the terrace, rapt, wondering, lifted to a height of 
 love and admiration that keeps her little soul to 
 its sweetest, highest pitch for ah, measure not 
 the time, I beg you ! The children who are 
 older, how long do the glow and the flush remain 
 with them ? They can only say, " There will be 
 another ! " and wait for it as well and patiently 
 as may be. 
 
 [114]
 
 THE HEART OF A CHILD 
 
 The Child goes back to the life of everyday, 
 and embroiders its dull web with eyes of peacocks 
 and sifts into it the scent of sandal -wood, and 
 sets it weaving to the tune of ballads, quaint and 
 sweet. Yet she has taken into another s web, 
 unknowing, a tiny scarlet thread of happiness, 
 that weaves through the tarnished cloth of silver 
 and blesses the pattern as it grows. And the 
 Master of the Looms has planned it all. 
 
 [115]
 
 ARDELIA IN ARCADY
 
 ARDELIA IN ARCADY 
 
 WHEN first the young lady from the 
 College Settlement dragged Ardelia 
 from her degradation she was sit 
 ting on a dirty pavement and throwing assorted 
 refuse at an unconscious policeman like many 
 of her companions in misery, 
 she totally failed to realize 
 the pit from which she was 
 digged. It had never oc- 
 
 " Throwing assorted refuse." 
 
 curred to her that her situation was anything less 
 than refined, and though, like most of us, she had 
 
 [119]
 
 T H K MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 failed to come up to her wildest ideals of happi 
 ness, in that respect she differed very little from 
 the young lady who rescued her. 
 
 " Come here, little girl," said the young lady 
 invitingly. " Wouldn t you like to come with 
 me and have a nice, cool bath ? " 
 
 " Naw," said Ardelia, in tones rivaling the bath 
 in coolness. 
 
 " You wouldn t ? Well, wouldn t you like 
 some bread and butter and jam ?" 
 
 " Wha s jam ? " said Ardelia conservatively. 
 
 " Why, it s er marmalade," the young 
 lady explained. " All sweet, you know." 
 
 " Naw ! " and Ardelia turned away and fingered 
 the refuse with an air of finality that caused the 
 young lady to sigh with vexation. 
 
 " I thought you might like to go on a picnic," 
 she said helplessly. " I thought all little girls 
 
 " Picnic ? When ? " cried Ardelia, moved in 
 stantly to interest. " I m goin 1 ! " 
 
 She brushed the garbage from her dress 
 Ardelia was of that emancipated order of women
 
 A R D L I A IN ARCADY 
 
 who disapprove of the senseless multiplication of 
 feminine garments, and wore, herself, but one 
 and regarded her rescuer impatiently. 
 
 "What s the matter? "she asked. "I m all 
 ready. Hump along ! " 
 
 " We ll go and ask your mother first, won t 
 we ? " suggested the young lady, a little be 
 wildered at this sudden change of attitude. 
 
 "Jagged," Ardelia returned laconically. "She d 
 lift y r face off yer ! Is it the Dago picnic ? " 
 
 The young lady shuddered, and seizing the 
 hand which she imagined to have had least to do 
 with the refuse, she led Ardelia away the first 
 stage of her journey to Arcady. 
 
 Ardelia s origin, like that of the civilization of 
 ancient Egypt, was shrouded in mystery. At the 
 age of two months she had been handed to a police 
 man by a scared-looking boy, who said vaguely 
 that he found her in the park under a bench. The 
 policeman had added her to the other foundling 
 waiting that day at headquarters, and carried 
 them to the matron of the institution devoted 
 to their interest. Around the other baby s neck 
 [121]
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 was a medal of the Blessed Virgin, and a slip of 
 paper pinned to her flannel petticoat labeled her 
 Mary Katharine. The impartial order of the 
 institution therefore delivered Ardelia, who was 
 wholly unlabeled, to the Protestant fold, and one 
 of the scrubbing-women named her. 
 
 Later she had taken up her residence with 
 Mrs. Michael Fahey, who had consented to add 
 to her precarious income by this means, and at 
 the age of four she became the official nurse of 
 Master John Sullivan Fahey. A terribly hot 
 August, unlimited cold tea, and a habit of play 
 ing in the gutter in the noon glare proved too 
 much for her charge, and he died on his third 
 birthday. The ride to the funeral was the most 
 exciting event of Ardelia s life. For years she 
 dated from it. Mrs. Fahey had so long regarded 
 her as one of the family, that though her occupa 
 tion was gone, and her board was no longer paid, 
 she was whipped as regularly and cursed as com 
 prehensively, in her foster-mother s periodical 
 sprees, as if they had been closely related. 
 
 What time she could spare from helping Mrs. 
 [ 12-2 ]
 
 ARDELIA IN ARCADY 
 
 Fahey in her somewhat casual household labor, 
 and running errands to tell that lady s perenni 
 ally hopeful employers that her mother wasn t 
 feeling well to-day, but would it do if she came 
 to-morrow, Ardelia spent in playing up and 
 down the street with a band of little girls, or, in 
 the very hottest days, sitting drowsy and vindic 
 tive at the head of a flight of stone steps that led 
 into a down-stairs saloon. The damp, flat, beer- 
 sweetened air that rushed out as the men pushed 
 open the swing-doors was cool and refreshing to 
 her ; she was in a position to observe any possi 
 ble customers at the three push-carts in her line 
 of vision, and could rouse a flagging interest in 
 life by listening to any one of the altercations 
 that resounded from the tenements night and 
 day. Drays clattered incessantly over the pave 
 ment, peddlers shouted, sharp gongs punctuated 
 the steadier din. A policeman was almost always 
 in sight, and one of them, Mr. Halloran, had 
 more than once given her a penny for lemonade. 
 In the room above her head an Italian band prac 
 tised every evening, and then Ardelia was perfectly 
 [ 123 ]
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 happy, for she loved music. Often before the 
 band began, a hurdy-gurdy would station itself 
 at the corner, and Ardelia and the other little 
 girls would dance about, singly and in pairs, 
 shouting the tunes they knew, rejoicing in the 
 comparative coolness and the generally care- free 
 atmosphere. Ardelia was the lightest-footed of 
 them all ; her hands held her skirts out almost 
 gracefully, her thin little legs flew highest. Some 
 times the saloon-keeper they called him " Old 
 Dutchy " would nod approval as Ardelia 
 skipped and pranced, and beckon her to him mys 
 teriously. 
 
 " You trow your legs goot," he would say. 
 " We shall see you already dancing, no ? Here 
 is an olluf ; eat her." 
 
 And Ardelia, who loved olives to distraction, 
 would nibble off small, sour, salty mouthfuls and 
 suck the pit luxuriously while she listened to the 
 Italian band. 
 
 Except for Mrs. Fahey^s errands, which never 
 earned her far off the street, Ardelia had never 
 left it in her life, and her journey to the Settle- 
 [124]
 
 ARDELIA IN ARCADY 
 
 ment-house was one of interest to her. She was 
 a silent child, but for occasional fits of gabbling 
 and chattering with the little girls in the street ; 
 and though she did not understand why the 
 ^oung lady from the Settlement should cry when 
 she introduced her to two other ladies, nor why 
 so many messages should be left for her mother, 
 and so many local and general baths admin 
 istered, she said very little. She was not accus 
 tomed to question fate, and when it sent her two 
 fried eggs she refused to eat them boiled for 
 her breakfast, she quietly placed them in the 
 credit column as opposed to the baths, and held 
 her peace. 
 
 Later, arrayed in starched and creaking gar 
 ments which had been made for a slightly smaller 
 child, she was transported to the station, and for 
 the first time introduced to a railroad car. She 
 sat stiffly on the red plush seat with furtive eyes 
 and sucked-in lips, while the young lady talked 
 reassuringly of daisies and cows and green grass. 
 As Ardelia had never seen any of these things, it 
 is hardly surprising that she was somewhat unen- 
 [125]
 
 T H E M A D N E S S OF PHILIP 
 
 thusiastic ; but the young lady was disappointed 
 by this lack of ardor. She was so thoroughly 
 convinced of the essential right of every child to 
 a healthy country life, that she was almost dis 
 posed to blame Ardelia for not sharing her emi 
 nently creditable conviction. 
 
 " You can roll in the daisies, my dear, and 
 pick all you want all ! " she urged eagerly. 
 But no answering gleam woke in Ardelia s eyes. 
 
 "Aw right,"" she answered guardedly, and 
 stared into her lap. 
 
 " Look out, dear, and see the fields and houses 
 see that handsome dog, and see the little 
 pond ! " 
 
 Ardelia shot a quick glance at the blurring 
 green that dizzied her as it rushed by ; the train 
 was a fast express making up for lost time. 
 Then with a scowl she resumed the contempla 
 tion of her starched gingham lap. The swel- 
 teringly hot day, and the rapid, unaccustomed 
 motion combined to afflict her with a strange 
 internal anticipation of future woe. Once last 
 summer, when she ate the liquid dregs of the ice- 
 [126]
 
 A R D E L I A IX A R C A I) Y 
 
 cream man s great tin, and fell asleep in the room 
 where her mother was frying onions, she had ex 
 perienced this same foreboding, and the climax of 
 that dreadful day lingered yet in her memory. 
 So she set her teeth and waited with stoical resig 
 nation for the end, while the young lady babbled 
 of green fields, and wondered why the child 
 should be so sullen. Finally she laid it to home 
 sickness, and recovered her faith in human 
 nature. 
 
 At last they stopped. The young lady seized 
 her hand, and led her through the narrow aisle, 
 down the steep steps, across the little country- 
 station platform, and Ardelia was in Arcady. 
 
 A bare-legged boy in blue overalls and a wide 
 straw hat then drove them many miles along a 
 hot, dusty road, that wound endlessly through 
 the parched country fields. To the young lady s 
 remark that they needed rain sadly, he replied, 
 " Yep ! " and held his peace for the following 
 hour. Occasionally they passed another horse, 
 but for the most part the only sight or sound of 
 life was afforded by the hens clucking angrily as 
 [12T]
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 the travelers drove them from their dust baths in 
 the powdery road. Released from her horror of 
 foreboding, Ardelia took a more apparent inter 
 est in her situation, and would perhaps have 
 spoken if her chaperone had opened conversation ; 
 but the young lady was weary of such efforts, dis 
 posed to a headache from the blinding heat, and 
 altogether inclined to silence. At last they 
 turned into a driveway, and drew up before a 
 gray wooden house. Ardelia, cramped with sit 
 ting still, for she had not altered her position 
 since she was placed stiffly on the seat between 
 her fellow-passengers, was lifted down and es 
 corted up the shingle -walk to the porch. A 
 spare, dark-eyed woman in a checked apron ad 
 vanced to meet them. 
 
 " Terrible hot to-day, ain t it ? " she sighed. 
 " I m real glad to see you, Miss Forsythe. Won t 
 you cool off a little before you go on ? This is 
 the little girl, I s pose. I guess it s pretty cool to 
 what she s accustomed to, ain t it, Delia ? " 
 
 " No, I thank you, Mrs. Slater, I ll go right on 
 to the house. Now, Ardelia, here you are in the 
 
 [128]
 
 ARDELIA IN ARCADY 
 
 country. I m staying with my friend in a big 
 white house about a quarter of a mile farther on. 
 You can t see it from here, but if you want any 
 thing you can just walk over. Day after to-mor 
 row is the picnic I told you about. You ll see 
 
 me then, any 
 right out in 
 pick all the 
 want. Don t be 
 will drive you 
 
 The force of 
 Ardelia, who 
 driven off any 
 but she gath 
 was expected 
 to the thick, 
 the unmowed 
 strode downward obediently, turning when in the 
 exact center of the plot, for further orders. 
 
 " Now pick them ! Pick the daisies ! " cried 
 Miss Forsythe excitedly. " I want to see .you." 
 
 Ardelia looked blank. 
 
 Huh ? " she said. 
 
 [129] 
 
 Huh? 
 
 way. Now run 
 the grass and 
 daisies you 
 afraid ; no one 
 off this grass ! " 
 this was lost on 
 had never been 
 grass whatever, 
 ered that she 
 to walk out in- 
 rank growth of 
 side yard, and
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 " Gather them. Get a bunch. Oh, you poor 
 child ! Mrs. Slater, she doesn t know how ! " 
 Miss Forsythe was deeply moved and illustrated 
 by picking imaginary daisies on the porch. Ar- 
 delia s quick eyes followed her gestures, and stoop 
 ing, she scooped the heads from three daisies and 
 started back with them, staring distrustfully into 
 the depths of the thick clinging grass as she 
 pushed through it. Miss Forsythe gasped. 
 
 "No, no, dear! Pull them up! Take the 
 stem, too," she explained. " Pick the whole 
 flower ! " 
 
 Ardelia bent over again, tugged at a thick- 
 stemmed clover, brought it up by the roots, re 
 covered her balance with difficulty, and assaulted 
 a neighboring daisy. On this she cut her hands, 
 and sucking oft the blood angrily, she grabbed a 
 handful of coarse grass, and plowing through the 
 tangled mass about her feet, laid the spoils awk 
 wardly on the young lady s lap. 
 
 Miss Forsythe stared at the dirty, trailing 
 roots that stained her linen skirt and sighed. 
 
 " Thank you, dear, 11 she said politely, " but I 
 
 [130]
 
 ARDELIA IX ARCADY 
 
 meant them for you. I meant you to have a 
 bunch. Don t you want them ? " 
 
 " Naw ! " said Ardelia decidedly, nursing her 
 cut hand and stepping with relief on the smooth 
 floor of the porch. 
 
 Miss Forsythe s eyes brightened suddenly. 
 
 " I know what you want," she cried, " you re 
 thirsty ! Mrs. Slater, won t you get us some of 
 your good, creamy milk ? Don t you want a 
 drink, Ardelia ? " 
 
 Ardelia nodded. She felt very tired, and the 
 glare of the sun seemed reflected from everything 
 into her dazed eyes. When Mrs. Slater appeared 
 with the foaming yellow glasses she wound her 
 nervous little hands about the stem of the goblet 
 and began a deep draught. She did not like it, 
 it was hard to swallow, and instinct warned her 
 not to go on with it ; but all the thirst of a long 
 morning Ardelia was used to drinking frequent 
 ly urged her on, and its icy coldness enabled her 
 to finish the glass. She handed it back with a 
 deep sigh. The young lady clapped her hands. 
 
 " There ! " she cried. " Now, how do you like 
 
 [131]
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 real milk, Ardelia ? I declare, you look like 
 another child already ! You can have all you 
 want every day why, what s the matter ? " 
 
 For Ardelia was growing ghastly pale before 
 them ; her eyes turned inward, her lips tightened. 
 
 "A blinding horror surged from 
 her toes upward." 
 
 A blinding horror surged from her 
 toes upward, and the memory of the 
 liquid ice-cream and the frying 
 onions faded before the awful reality 
 of her present agony. 
 
 Later, as she lay limp and white on 
 the slippery hair-cloth sofa in Mrs. Slater s musty 
 parlor, she heard them discussing her situation. 
 
 " There was a lot of Fresh Air children over 
 at Mis 1 Simms s," her hostess explained, " and 
 they most all of em said the milk was too strong 
 did you ever ! Two or three of em was sick, 
 like this one, but they got to love it in a little 
 while. She will, too." 
 
 [132]
 
 A R D E L I A IN A R C A D Y 
 
 Ardelia shook her head feebly. She had learned 
 her lesson. If success, as we are told, consists 
 not in omitting to make mistakes, but in omit 
 ting to make the same one twice, Ardelia s treat 
 ment of the milk question was eminently successful. 
 
 After a while Miss Forsythe went away, and at 
 her urgent suggestion Ardelia came out and sat 
 on the porch under the shade of a black umbrella. 
 She sat motionless, staring into the grass, lost in 
 the rapture of content that follows such a crisis 
 as her recent misery, forgetful of all her earthly 
 woes in the blessed certainty of her present calm. 
 In a few minutes she was asleep. 
 
 When she awoke she was in a strange place. 
 Outside the umbrella all was dusk and shadow. 
 Only a square white mist filled the place of the 
 barn, the tall trees loomed vaguely toward the 
 dark sky, the stars were few. As she gazed in 
 half- terror about her, a strange jangling came 
 nearer and nearer, and a great animal with swing 
 ing sides, panting terribly, ran clumsily by, fol 
 lowed by a bare-legged boy, whose thudding feet 
 sounded loud on the beaten path. Ardelia shrank 
 [133]
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 against the wall with a cry that brought Mrs. 
 Slater to her side. 
 
 "There, there, Delia, it s only a cow. She won t 
 hurt you. She gives the milk " Ardelia shud 
 dered " and the butter, too. Here s some bread 
 and butter for you. We ve had our supper, but I 
 thought the sleep would do you more good." 
 
 Still shaken by the shock of that panting, hairy 
 beast, Ardelia put out her hand for the bread and 
 butter, and ate it greedily. Then she stretched 
 her cramped limbs and looked over the umbrella. 
 On the porch sat a bearded man in shirt-sleeves 
 and stocking feet, his head thrown back against 
 his chair, his mouth open. He snored audibly. 
 Tipped back in another chair, his feet raised and 
 pressed against one of the supports of the porch 
 roof, sat a younger man. He was not asleep, for 
 he was smoking a pipe, but he was as motionless 
 as the other. Curled up on the steps was the boy 
 who had brought them from the station. Occa 
 sionally he patted a mongrel collie beside him, 
 and yawning, stretched himself, but he did not 
 speak. 
 
 [134]
 
 ARDELIA IN ARCADY 
 
 " That s Mr. Slater," said the woman softly, 
 " and the young man is my oldest son, William. 
 Henry brought you up with the team. They re 
 out in the field all day, and they get pretty 
 tired. It gets nice an 1 cool out here by evenin , 
 don t it ? " 
 
 She leaned back and rocked silently to and fro, 
 and Ardelia waited for the events of the evening. 
 There were none. She wondered why the gas 
 was not lit in all that shadowy darkness, why the 
 people didn t come along. She felt scared and 
 lonely. Now that her stomach was filled, and 
 her nerves refreshed by her long sleep, she was in 
 a condition to realize that aside from all bodily 
 discomfort she was sad very sad. A new, un 
 known depression weighed her down. It grew 
 steadily, something was happening, something 
 constant and mournful what ? Suddenly she 
 knew. It was a steady, recurrent noise, a buzz 
 ing, monotonous click. Now it rose, now it fell, 
 accentuating the silence dense about it. 
 
 " Zig-a-zig! Zig-a-zig I" then a rest. 
 
 " Zig-a-zig ! Zig-a-zig-a-zig ! " 
 [135]
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 She looked restlessly at Mrs. Slater. " Wha s 
 at ? " she said. 
 
 " That ? Oh, those are katydids. I s pose 
 you never heard em, that s a fact. Kind o cozy, 
 I think. Don t you like em ? " 
 
 " Naw," said Ardelia. 
 
 Another long silence intervened. The rock 
 ing-chair swayed back and forth, and Mr. Slater 
 snored. Little bright eyes glowed and disap 
 peared, now high, now low, against the dark. It 
 will never be known whether Ardelia thought 
 them defective gaslights or the flashing, changing 
 electric signs that add color to the night adver 
 tisements of her native city, for contrary to all 
 fictional precedent, she did not inquire with in 
 terest what they were. She did not care, in fact. 
 
 After half an hour of the katydids William 
 spoke. 
 
 " Nick Damon s helpin in the south lot t day," 
 he observed. 
 
 " Was he ? " asked his mother, pausing a mo 
 ment in her rocking. 
 
 " Yep." 
 
 [136]
 
 ARDELIA IN ARCADY 
 
 Again he smoked, and the monotonous clamor 
 was uninterrupted. 
 
 " Zig-a-zig ! Zig-zig ! Zig-a-zig-a-zig ! " 
 
 Slowly, against the background of this ma 
 chine-like clicking, there grew other counds, 
 weird, unhappy, far away. 
 
 " Wheep, zvheep, wheep ! " 
 
 This was a high, thin crying. 
 
 " Buroom ! Brrroom ! broom ! " 
 
 This was low and resonant and solemn. Ar- 
 delia scowled. 
 
 " Wha s at ? " she asked again. 
 
 "That s the frogs. Bull-frogs and peepers. 
 Never heard them, either, did ye ? Well, that s 
 what they are." 
 
 William took his pipe out of his mouth. 
 
 " Come here, sissy, n 111 tell y a story," he 
 said lazily. 
 
 Ardelia obeyed, and glancing timorously at 
 the shadows, slipped around to his side. 
 
 " Onc t they was an ol feller comin 1 long 
 cross-lots, late at night, an he come to a pond, 
 an 1 he kinder stopped up an 1 says to himself, 
 f 13T1
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 Wonder how deep th ol pond is, anyhow ? 
 He was just a leetle well, he d had a drop too 
 much, y see " 
 
 " Had a what ? " interrupted Ardelia. 
 
 " He was sort o rollin round he didn t 
 know just what he was doin r 
 
 " Oh ! Jagged ! " said Ardelia comprehendingly. 
 
 " I guess so. An he heard a voice singin out, 
 Knee deep ! Knee deep ! Knee deep ! 
 
 William gave a startling imitation of the peep 
 ers : his voice was a high, shrill wail. 
 
 " < Oh, well, s he, f it s just knee deep I ll 
 wade through, an he starts in. 
 
 " Just then he hears a big feller singin out, 
 Better go rrrround ! Better go t^rround ! better- 
 goround ! 
 
 William rolled out a vibrating bass note that 
 startled the bull-frogs themselves. 
 
 " Lord ! says he, is it s deep s that ? Well, 
 I ll go round, then. N off he starts to walk 
 around. 
 
 " Knee deep ! Knee deep ! Knee deep ! says 
 the peepers. 
 
 [138]
 
 ARDELIA IN ARCADY 
 
 " An 1 there it was. Soon s he d start to do 
 one thing, they d tell him another. Make up 
 his mind he couldn t, so he stands there still, 
 they do say, askin em every night which he 
 better do." 
 
 " Stands where ? " Ardelia looked fearfully 
 behind her. 
 
 " Oh, I d know. Out in that swamp, mebbe." 
 
 Again he smoked, and the younger boy 
 chuckled. 
 
 Time passed by. To Ardelia it might have 
 been minutes, hours, or generations. An un 
 speakable boredom, an ennui that struck to the 
 roots of her soul, possessed her. Her muscles 
 twitched from nervousness. Her feet ached and 
 burned in the stiff boots. 
 
 Suddenly Mr. Slater coughed and arose. 
 " Well, guess I ll be gettin to bed," he said. 
 " Come on, boys. Hello, little girl ! Come to 
 visit with us, hey ? Mind you don t pick poison 
 vine." 
 
 He shuffled into the house, and the boys fol 
 lowed him in silence. Mrs. Slater led Ardelia 
 [139]
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 upstairs into a little hot room, and told her to get 
 into bed quick, for the lamp drew the mosqui 
 toes. 
 
 Ardelia kicked off her shoes and approached 
 the bed distrustfully. It sank down with her 
 weight and smelled hot and queer. Rolling 
 off, she stretched herself on the floor, and lay 
 there disconsolately. Sharp, quick stabs from the 
 swarming mosquitoes stung her to rage ; she 
 tossed about, slapping at them with exclamations 
 that would have shocked Mrs. Slater. The eter 
 nal chatter of the katydids maddened her. She 
 could not sleep. Across the swamp came the 
 wail of the peepers. 
 
 " Knee-deep ! Knee-deep ! Knee-deep ! " 
 
 At home the hurdy-gurdy was playing, the 
 
 women were gossiping on every step, the lights 
 
 were everywhere the blessed fearless gas-lights 
 
 the little girls were dancing in the breeze that 
 
 drew in from the East River, Old Dutchy was 
 
 giving Maggie Kelly an olive ; Ardelia slapped 
 
 viciously at a mosquito on her hot cheek, heard t\ 
 
 great June bug flopping into the room through 
 
 [140J
 
 ARDELIA IN AECADY 
 
 the loosely waving netting, and burst into tears 
 of pain and fright, wrapping her head tightly in 
 her gingham skirt. 
 
 In the morning Miss Forsythe came over to 
 inquire after her charge s health, accompanied by 
 another young lady. 
 
 " How do you do, my dear ? " said the new lady 
 kindly. " How terribly the mosquitoes have 
 stung you ! What makes you stay in the house, 
 and miss the beautiful fresh air ? See that great 
 plot of daisies does she know that she can pick 
 all she wants, poor little thing ? I suppose she 
 never had a chance ! Come out with me, Ar- 
 delia, and let s see which can pick the biggest 
 bunch." 
 
 And Ardelia, fortified by ham and eggs, went 
 stolidly forth into the grass and silently attacked 
 the daisies. 
 
 In the middle of her bunch the new young lady 
 paused. " Why, Ethel, she isn t barefoot ! " she 
 cried. " Come here, Ardelia, and take off your 
 shoes and stockings directly. Shoes and stock 
 ings in the country ! Nozv you ll know what com- 
 f Ul 1
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 fort is," as she unlaced the boots rapidly on the 
 porch. 
 
 " Oh, she^s been barefoot in the city," explained 
 Miss Forsythe, " but this will be different, of 
 course." 
 
 And so it was, but not in the sense she in 
 tended. To patter about bare-legged on the 
 clear, safe pavement, was one thing ; to venture 
 unprotected into that waving, tripping tangle was 
 another. She stepped cautiously upon the short 
 grass near the house, and with jaw set and nar 
 rowed lids felt her way into the higher growth. 
 The ladies clapped their hands at her happiness 
 and freedom. Suddenly she stopped, she shrieked, 
 she clawed the air with outspread fingers. Her 
 face was gray with terror. 
 
 " Oh, gee ! Oh, gee ! " she screamed. 
 
 " What is it, Ardelia, what is it ? " they 
 cried lifting up their skirts in sympathy, "a 
 snake ? " 
 
 Mrs. Slater rushed out, seized Ardelia, half rigid 
 with fear, and carried her to the porch. They 
 elicited from her as she sat with her feet tucked 
 [142]
 
 ARDELIA IN ARCADY 
 
 under her and one hand convulsively clutching 
 Mrs. Slater s apron that something had rustled by 
 her " down at the bottom," that it was slippery, 
 that she had stepped on it, and wanted to go 
 home. 
 
 " Toad," explained Mrs. Slater briefly. " Only 
 a little hop-toad, Delia, that wouldn t harm a 
 baby, let alone a big girl nine years old, like 
 you." 
 
 But Ardelia, chattering with nervousness, wept 
 for her shoes, and sat high and dry in a rocking- 
 chair for the rest of the morning. 
 
 " She s a queer child," Mrs. Slater confided to 
 the young ladies. " Not a drop of anything will 
 she drink but cold tea. It don t seem reasonable 
 to give it to her all day, and I won t do it, so she 
 has to wait till meals. She makes a face if I say 
 milk, and the water tastes slippery, she says, and 
 salty-like. She won t touch it. I tell her its 
 good well water, but she just shakes her head. 
 She s stubborn s a bronze mule, that child. Just 
 mopes around. S morning she asked me when 
 did the parades go by. I told her there wa n t 
 [143]
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 any but the circus, an that had been already. I 
 tried to cheer her up, sort of, with that Fresh Air 
 picnic of yours to-morrow, Miss Forsythe, and 
 s she, Oh, the Dago picnic, s she, * will they have 
 Tony s band ? 
 
 "She don t seem to take any int rest in th 
 farm, like those Fresh Air children, either. I 
 showed her the hens an the eggs, an she said it 
 was a lie about the hens layin em. What d you 
 take me for ? s she. The idea ! Then Henry 
 milked the cow, to show her she wouldn t be 
 lieve that, either and with the milk streamin 
 down before her, what do you s pose she said ? 
 * You put it in ! s she. I never should a 
 believed that, Miss Forsythe, if I hadn t 
 heard it." 
 
 " Oh, she ll get over it," said Miss Forsythe 
 easily, "just wait a few days. Good-by, Ardelia, 
 eat a good supper." 
 
 But this Ardelia did not do. She gazed fasci 
 nated at Mr. Slater, who loaded his fork with cold 
 green peas, shot them into his mouth, and before 
 disposing of them ultimately added to them half 
 [ U+l
 
 ARDELIA IN ARCADY 
 
 a slice of rye bread and a great gulp of tea in one 
 breath, repeating this operation at regular inter 
 vals in voracious silence. She regarded William, 
 who consumed eight large molasses cookies and 
 three glasses of frothy milk, as a mere afterthought 
 to the meal, gulping furiously. He never spoke. 
 Henry she dared not look at, for he burst into 
 laughter whenever she did, and cried out, " You 
 put it in ! You put it in ! " which irritated her 
 exceedingly. But she knew that he was biting 
 great round bites out of countless slices of but 
 tered bread, and in utter silence. Now Ardelia 
 had never in her life eaten in silence. Mrs. Fa- 
 hey, when eating, gossiped and fought alternately 
 with Mr. Fahey s old, half-blind mother ; her son 
 Danny, in a state of chronic dismissal from his 
 various "jobs," sang, whistled and performed 
 clog dances under the table during the meal ; 
 their neighbor across the narrow hall shrieked her 
 comments, friendly or otherwise ; and all around 
 and above and below resounded the busy noise of 
 the crowded, clattering city street. It was the 
 breath in her nostrils, the excitement of her ner
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 vous little life, and this cold-blooded stoking took 
 away her appetite, never large. 
 
 Through the open door the buzz of the katy 
 dids was beginning tentatively. In the intervals 
 of William s gulps a faint bass note warned them 
 from the swamp : 
 
 " Better go rrround ! Better go round ! "" 
 
 Mrs. Slater filled their plates in silence. Henry 
 slapped a mosquito and chuckled interiorly at 
 some reminiscence. A cow-bell jangled sadly out 
 of the gathering dusk. 
 
 Ardelia s nerves strained and snapped. Her 
 eyes grew wild. 
 
 " Fer Gawd s sake, talk ! " she cried sharply. 
 " Are youse dumbies ? " 
 
 r 
 
 The morning dawned fresh and fair ; the trees 
 and the brown turf smelled sweet, the homely 
 barnyard noises brought a smile to Miss For 
 syte s sympathetic face, as she waited for Ardelia 
 to join her in a drive to the station. But Ardelia 
 did not smile. Her eyes ached with the great 
 green glare, the strange scattered objects, the lono; 
 [146]
 
 ARDELIA IN ARCADY 
 
 unaccustomed vistas. Her cramped feet wearied 
 for the smooth pavements, her ears hungered for 
 the dear familiar din. She scowled at the wind 
 ing, empty road ; she shrieked at the passing 
 oxen. 
 
 At the station Miss Forsythe shook her limp 
 little hand. 
 
 " Good-by, dear," she said. " I ll bring the 
 other little children back with me. You ll enjoy 
 that. Good-by." 
 
 " I m comin , too," said Ardelia. 
 
 "Why no, dear -you wait for us. You d 
 only turn around and come right back, you 
 know," urged Miss Forsythe, secretly touched by 
 this devotion to herself. 
 
 " Come back nothing" said Ardelia doggedly. 
 " I m goin home." 
 
 " Why why, Ardelia ! Don t you really like 
 it ? " 
 
 " Naw, it s too hot." 
 
 Miss Forsythe stared. 
 
 " But Ardelia, you don t want to go back to 
 that horrible .smelly street ? Not truly ? "
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 " Betcher life I do ! " said Ardelia. 
 
 The train steamed in ; Miss Forsythe mounted 
 the steps uneasily, Ardelia clinging to her hand. 
 
 "It s so lovely and quiet," the young lady 
 pleaded. 
 
 Ardelia shuddered. Again she seemed to hear 
 that fiendish, mournful wailing : 
 
 " Knee deep ! Knee deep ! Knee deep ! " 
 
 " It smells so good, Ardelia ! All the green 
 things ! " 
 
 Good ! that hot, rustling breeze of noonday, 
 that damp and empty evening wind ! 
 
 They rode in silence. But the jar and jolt of 
 the engine made music in Ardelia s ears ; the 
 crying of the hot babies, the familiar jargon of 
 the newsboy : 
 
 " N Yawk moyning paypers ! Woyld ! Joy 
 nal ! " were a breath from home to her little 
 cockney heart. 
 
 They pushed through the great station, they 
 climbed the steps of the elevated track, they jin 
 gled on a cross-town car. And at a familiar cor 
 ner Ardelia slipped loose her hand, uttered a 
 [148]
 
 ARDELIA IN ARCADY 
 
 grunt of joy, and Miss Forsythe looked for her in 
 vain. She was gone. 
 
 But late in the evening, when the great city 
 turned out to breathe, and sat with opened shirt 
 and loosened bodice on the dirty steps ; when the 
 hurdy-gurdy executed brassy scales and the lights 
 flared in endless sparkling rows ; when the trolley 
 gongs at the corner pierced the air, and feet 
 tapped cheerfully down the cool stone steps of 
 the beer-shop, Ardelia, bare-footed and aban 
 doned, nibbling at a section of bologna sausage, 
 secure in the hope of an olive to come, cake- 
 walked insolently with a band of little girls be 
 hind a severe policeman, mocking his stolid gait, 
 to the delight of Old Dutchy, who beamed ap 
 provingly at her prancings. 
 
 " Ja, ja, you trow out your feet goot. Some 
 day we pay to see you, no ? You like to get 
 back already ? " 
 
 Ardelia performed an audacious pas seul and 
 reached for her olive. 
 
 " Ja, danky shun, Dutchy," she said airily, and 
 as the hurdy-gurdy moved away, and the oboe of 
 [M9J
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 the Italian band began to run up and down the 
 scale, she sank upon her cool step, stretched her 
 toes and sighed. 
 
 " Gee ! " she murmured, " N Yawk^s the 
 place ! "
 
 EDGAR, THE CHOIR BOY UNCELES- 
 TIAL 
 
 YOU all know how they look in the pict 
 ures enlarged photogravures, mostly : 
 they have appealing violet eyes and 
 drooping mouths and oval faces. They tip their 
 heads back and to the side, and there is usually a 
 broad beam of light falling across their little offi 
 cial nighties. People frame them in Flemish oak 
 and hang them over the piano, and little girls 
 long to resemble them. 
 
 But Edgar was not that kind. So greatly did 
 he differ, in fact, that even the choirmaster, who 
 ought to have known better, was deceived, and 
 discovered him with difficulty. When that gen 
 tleman confronted them in the parish house, a 
 mob of suspicious little boys, shoving, growling, 
 snickering, and otherwise fulfilling their natures, 
 he promptly selected Tim Mullaly, who possessed 
 to an ama/ing degree the violet eyes and the 
 [ 1531
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 drooping mouth and the oval face, as his first 
 soprano. The choirmaster was young in years 
 and his profession. 
 
 But Tim refused to sing the scale alone, and as 
 the others scorned to accompany him in this ex- 
 
 " But Tim refused to sing the scale alone." 
 
 ercise, Mr. Fellowes, determinedly patient, sug 
 gested in the hilarious " come-on-boys ! " fashion 
 consecrated to childhood by adults, that they 
 should all join in some popular melody, to limber 
 them up and dispel their uneasiness. 
 [154]
 
 EDGAR, THE CHOIR BOY UN CELESTIAL 
 
 " What shall we sing ? " he called out breezily, 
 from the piano-stool, faintly indicating a " rag 
 time" rhythm with his left hand, still facing 
 them as he searched the forbidding countenances 
 before him for a gleam of friendship. 
 
 After all, they were human boys, and they 
 could all sing after a fashion, or they would not 
 have been induced by relatives who had read the 
 qualifications for choir membership to attend this 
 trying function. 
 
 " Hot time ! " burst from one of the young 
 sters. 
 
 " All right ! " and the inviting melody drew 
 them in ; soon they were shouting lustily. Rau 
 cous altos, nasal sopranos, fatal attempts to com 
 pass a bass at any rate, they were started. 
 The verse was over, the chorus had begun, when 
 a sudden sound sent the choirmaster s heart to his 
 throat, his hands left the keys. Into the medley 
 of coarse, boyish shouting dropped a silvery 
 thread of purest song, a very bird-note. For a 
 moment it flowed on the level of the chorus, then 
 suddenly, with an indescribable leap, a slurring 
 [ 155]
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 rush, it rose to an octave above and led them all. 
 The choirmaster twirled around on the stool. 
 
 " Who s that ? Which boy is singing up 
 there ? " he demanded excitedly. There was no 
 reply. They grinned consciously at each other ; 
 one could imagine them all guilty. 
 
 " Come, come, boys ! Don t be silly who 
 was it ? " 
 
 Silence, of the most sepulchral sort. Mr. Fel- 
 lowes shrugged his shoulders, swung round again, 
 and started the second verse. They dashed 
 through it noisily ; he picked out here and there 
 a sweet little treble, one real alto. But his ears 
 were pricked for something better, and presently 
 it came. The rhythm was too enticing. 
 
 "Please, oh, please, oh, don t you let me fall " 
 
 " By George, he s a human blackbird ! " 
 " You re all mine, an I love you best of all " 
 
 " That s high C ! " 
 
 " An you mus be my man, V Fll have no man at all " 
 
 The choirmaster burst into a joyous if some 
 what reedy tenor. 
 
 44 There ll be a hot time in the old toivn to-niyht!" 
 [156]
 
 EDGAR, T H K CHOIR BOY U N C E L E S T I A L 
 
 He whirled about, still singing, and caught the 
 ecstatic, dreamy gaze of Tim Mullaly. 
 
 " It s you !" he cried, pouncing on him. Tim 
 giggled feebly. 
 
 " Yessir," he said. 
 
 "Now sing this scale,and Til give you five cents." 
 
 An envious sigh quavered through the parish 
 hall. 
 
 Tim threw back his head and opened his droop 
 ing mouth. 
 
 " Do, re " 
 
 There was a flash of blue gingham, a snarl of 
 rage, a sound as of fifty pounds of small boy sud 
 denly seated on the floor. 
 
 " Where s yer fi cents ? " a new voice inquired 
 easily. 
 
 The choirmaster perceived with amazement 
 that the owner of the voice, a freckled boy with 
 an excessively retrousse nose, was sitting on the 
 prostrate Tim. 
 
 " What is the meaning of this ? Get up ! " he 
 said sternly. " What s your name ? I can t have 
 any of this sort of thing in my choir ! " 
 [157]
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 The freckled boy did not rise. In fact, he 
 seated himself more comfortably on Master Mul- 
 laly, and demanded again : 
 
 " Where s yer fT cents ? " 
 
 The choirmaster stepped forward and seized the 
 offender s collar. As his fingers tightened, the 
 
 " Where s yer fi cents ? 
 
 captive burst into the chorus of the moment be 
 fore it was the blackbird voice ! So obstinate 
 was the choirmaster s first impression that he 
 looked instinctively at the fallen Tim to catch 
 the notes, but Tim was struggling meekly but 
 firmly for breath, and this free trilling came from 
 above him. The choirmaster relaxed his hold. 
 [158]
 
 EDGAR, THE CHOIR BOY UN CELESTIAL 
 
 " It was you all the time ! 11 he said in a stupor 
 of surprise. 
 
 " Yep, 11 replied the singer, " it was me. Did 
 yer think it was him?"" with a slight jounce to 
 indicate his victim. 
 
 " Get up, won t you, and sing me something 
 else, 11 the choirmaster urged. The boy rose 
 promptly. 
 
 " What 1 !! I sing ? " he returned amicably. 
 There had been a different tone in the choir 
 master s voice. 
 
 " Happy Home ! Happy Home ! " the crowd 
 demanded. They had stood to one side in the 
 most neutral manner during the brief struggle 
 that had laid Tim low, and listened respectfully 
 to the brief colloquy that followed. It was evi 
 dent that past experience had suggested this 
 attitude on their part. 
 
 The choirmaster looked relieved. He had no 
 narrow prejudices, but he realized that a hymn 
 like " My Happy Home " comes with good effect 
 from the parish-hall windows. 
 
 " Where s your mouth organ ? " demanded the 
 f 1591
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 mi 
 
 " I d leave my 
 yappy yome 
 fer you, Oo- 
 oo-oo-oo! " 
 
 freckled one of a larger boy in the 
 crowd. The latter promptly pro 
 duced the instrument in question, 
 cuddled it in both hands a moment 
 after the fashion of the virtuoso, 
 and drew forth the jerky and com 
 plex series of strains peculiar to it. 
 It was evidently a prelude a 
 tune vaguely familiar to the choir 
 master. Suddenly the boy s voice 
 burst into this sombre background: 
 
 "I d leave my yappy yome fer you, 
 Oo-oo-oo-oo t " 
 
 The choirmaster sighed ecstatic 
 ally. A voice so tender, so soft, so rich in ap 
 pealing inflections he had never heard. The re 
 peated vowels cooed, they caressed, they allured. 
 
 " You re the nices man n I ever knoo, 
 Oo-oo-oo-oo ! " 
 
 If you remember how Madame Melba cooes, 
 " Edgardo ! Edgardo-o-o ! " when she sings the 
 mad scene from " Lucia," you will have an idea 
 [160]
 
 EDGAR, THE CHOIR BOY UN CELESTIAL 
 
 of the liquid, slipping notes of that snub-nosed, 
 freckled boy. 
 
 " What s your name ? " asked the choirmaster 
 respectfully. 
 
 It appeared at first to be Egg-nog, but re 
 solved into Edgar Ogden under careful cross-ex 
 amination, and its owner agreed to attend three 
 weekly rehearsals and two Sunday services for the 
 princely salary of twenty-five cents a week, the 
 same to be increased in proportion to his prog 
 ress. 
 
 Subsequent efforts proved that it was utter 
 ly hopeless to attempt to teach him to read 
 music. When Tim Mullaly and the stupidest 
 alto in the United States as the choirmaster as 
 sured him could stumble through what was con 
 siderately known as a duet at sight, and that was 
 the work of many months, Edgar was still learn 
 ing his solos by ear. It was wasted effort to in 
 sist, and the choirmaster spent long hours and 
 nearly wore his forefinger to the bone, fixing in 
 his pupil s mind the succession of notes in anthems 
 and Te Deums, Once learned, however, he never 
 
 [161]
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 "As a matter of fact, they looked, most of them, at Tim." 
 
 forgot them, and Mr. Fellowes thrilled with pride 
 as the silver stream of his voice flowed higher, 
 higher, above the organ, beyond the choir at his 
 side, till the people in the church sighed and 
 craned their necks to look at the wonderful boy. 
 
 As a matter of fact, they looked, most of them, 
 at Tim Mullaly, who, fresh from his Saturday 
 bath, in his little cassock and cotta, realized the 
 dreams of the most exigent lithographer. He 
 stood next to Edgar, and owing to a certain weak 
 ness of mind invariably followed wi th his lips the 
 entire libretto, so to speak, of the work in hand. 
 As his appealing expression and violet eyes were 
 undetachable, he had all the effect of the soloist, 
 and received most of the credit from that vast 
 majority who fail to distinguish one little boy, 
 
 like one Chinaman, from another, unless he pos- 
 [162]
 
 EDGAR, THE CHOIR BOY UNCELESTIAL 
 
 sesses some such salient feature as Tim s pleading 
 gaze. 
 
 This little apprehension was mercifully unsus 
 pected by Edgar, otherwise it is to be feared that 
 the services of a physician would have been re 
 quired in the Mullaly household. Not that Edgar 
 had any professional pride in his voice. He pos 
 sessed, according to his own ideas, many more val 
 uable and decorative qualities. His power of song 
 was entirely hereditary, and came to him from his 
 father, who was of English descent. The elder Mr. 
 Ogden, whom rumor reported to run frequent risks 
 of being bitten like a serpent and stung like an 
 adder at the last, had mounted to a dizzy height in 
 the Knights of Pythias entirely through his voice, 
 a sweet and powerful tenor, and was accustomed 
 to spend the greater part of his time in commit 
 ting to memory and practising dramatic songs of a 
 highly moral variety with choruses on this order : 
 
 " You lie ! I saw you steal that ace t 
 A crashing How right in the face 
 A pistol shot and deattis disgrace 
 Was in that pack of cards ! " 
 [163]
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 At the proper point, a friend in another room 
 would shoot off a blank cartridge to a stormy 
 accompaniment on the Pythian piano, and the 
 Knights would become so appreciative that the 
 soloist, to borrow a classical phrase, rarely got 
 home until morning. What time Mr. Ogden 
 found himself able to spare from getting up his 
 repertoire was judiciously employed in borrowing 
 money for the purchase of new articles of regalia, 
 for with the Pythians to rise was to shine. 
 
 His elder son Samuel, familiarly known as 
 Squealer, inherited both his father s tendencies, 
 and was in great demand among the saloons and 
 pool-rooms, where he sang ballads of a tender 
 and moral nature, dealing mostly with the Home, 
 and the sanctity of the family relation in general. 
 One of these in especial, in which Squealer as 
 sumed a hortatory attitude and besought an im 
 aginary parent to " take her back, Dad," adding 
 in a melting baritone, 
 
 " She s my mother and your wife ! " 
 
 so affected a certain bar-room habitue, whose 
 
 habit of chasing his family through the tenement 
 
 [164]
 
 EDGAR, THE CHOIR BOY UNCELESTIAL 
 
 with a carving-knife had led them to move out oi 
 town, that he had been known to lay his head on 
 the bar and weep audibly. 
 
 It was a moot point among his friends as to 
 which was Squealer s real chef (Tceuvre, the song 
 just mentioned or another which ran, 
 
 " Y oil II only have one mother, boy, 
 You can t treat her too well ! " 
 
 Very often after singing this Squealer would 
 become too affected to endure the thought of 
 what the song described as " the old home, 
 empty now," and would repair to some scene 
 which drew less heavily on the emotions, thus 
 assuring a sleepless if wrathful night to Mrs. Og- 
 den, and fluent altercation on his return to the 
 old home. 
 
 Mrs. Ogden was not musical herself, and de 
 voted most of her energies to fine laundry work, 
 a less emotional but more lucrative occupation. 
 Edgar s professional duties interested her chiefly 
 by reason of the weekly salary, now grown to 
 fifty cents, of which one-tenth was allowed him 
 for his private purse, the remainder being applied 
 
 [165]
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 to the very obvious necessities of the household. 
 His consequent position as wage -earner was 
 firmly established, and his mother, though she 
 cherished a natural contempt for the mental cali 
 bre of any young man who considered Edgar s 
 
 " Shiny storm rubbers were urged upon 
 the artist s reluctant feet." 
 
 voice worth fifty cents a week, saw to it that so 
 remunerative an organ received all the considera 
 tion it deserved. 
 
 To Mr. Ogden s undisguised horror, two new 
 suits of under flannels were purchased at the be- 
 [166]
 
 EDGAR, THE CHOIR BOY UNCELESTIAL 
 
 ginning of the winter, and shiny storm rubbers 
 were urged upon the artist s reluctant feet on 
 every slushy day. The most unconvincing cough 
 was rewarded with black licorice, purchased from 
 the general household fund, and when Edgar had 
 
 She was not in the 
 habit of applying 
 her disciplinary 
 measures to the 
 throat." 
 
 the measles, the Prince of Wales, to use Mr. Og- 
 den s irritated phrase, might have been glad to 
 taste the mutton broth and cocoa that fattened 
 that impident kid. 
 
 Nor was her system limited to this soft indul- 
 
 [167]
 
 gence, as the occasion of one of the choirmaster s 
 visits proved. Fearful lest the purpose of his 
 call should become evident too abruptly, he be 
 gan by one of his customary eulogies of his first 
 soprano s voice. She received his enthusiasm 
 coldly, indicated forcibly her own lack of musical 
 ability, and boasted, with a pride inexplicable to 
 one who has not been accustomed to consider 
 this gift synonymous with penitentiary qualifica 
 tions, that she could not carry a tune. On his 
 mentioning somewhat diffidently that Edgar s 
 fines for tardiness, absence, etc., must in the nat 
 ure of things make appreciable inroads upon his 
 salary, the interview assumed a different aspect. 
 
 Wiping her hands on her apron, Mrs. Ogden 
 assured the choirmaster that if Edgar wasn t 
 earning his wages she d attend to that part of it, 
 all right. So intent was her expression that he 
 felt obliged to put in a plea for gentleness, on 
 the ground that such a delicate mechanism as 
 the human throat could not be too carefully 
 treated. Mrs. Ogden assured him that she was 
 not in the habit of applying her disciplinary 
 [168]
 
 EDGAR, THE C H O I II BOY U N C E L E S T I A L 
 
 measures to the throat, and 
 the audience was at an end. 
 The day happened to be Sat 
 urday, and at the evening re 
 hearsal it seemed to the choir 
 master that things had never 
 gone so smoothly. After all, 
 he thought, it needed a mother 
 to reason with the boys he 
 had made several calls of the 
 same nature that week a 
 mother knew best how to in 
 fluence them. And he was 
 abundantly justified in his 
 conclusions. 
 
 On Sunday afternoon Edgar 
 marched into the church, im- 
 
 A. mild and stolid 
 youth." 
 
 passive and uninteresting to the outward vision, 
 with Tim beside him, rapt and effective. Edgar 
 stared vacantly into space, his feet marked the 
 time at the proper distance from the crucifer, a 
 mild and stolid youth, who could never under 
 stand why it was that just as he turned the corner 
 [169]
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 and began to climb the steps to the choir-stalls 
 his cassock should suddenly tighten below the 
 knees and almost throw him. Edgar s partner 
 in the column could have informed him, but pru 
 dence rendered him uncommunicative. 
 
 " The ln-ightest hopes we cherish here, 
 How fast they tire and faint I " 
 
 Edgar s brows met, he took a longer stride in 
 reaching for his B flat, and the crucifer grasped 
 his pole nervously and broke step a moment his 
 cassock had caught again. 
 
 " How many a spot defiles the robe 
 That wraps an earthly saint ! " 
 
 "He sings like an angel," the rector mused. 
 " How clumsy that Waters boy is ! " 
 
 Once through with the Psalter, which he 
 loathed because he was not always certain of his 
 pointing, and could not endure Tim s look of hor 
 ror at his occasional slips, Edgar, having hunched 
 his shoulders at just the angle to prevent the 
 tenor behind him from looking across into the 
 transept, and ostentatiously opened his service at 
 [170]
 
 EDGAR, THE CHOIR BOY UNCELESTIAL 
 
 the Nunc dimittis, so that Tim might by his 
 innocent nudging and indications of his own 
 Magnificat page call a frown and a fine from the 
 choirmaster, devoted himself to a study of the 
 rose-window over the transept. 
 
 The decoration of this window was a standing 
 subject of quarrel between him and the first alto, 
 Howard Potter. Edgar had advanced the some 
 what untenable proposition that the various fig 
 ures in the stained-glass windows represented the 
 successive rectors and choirmasters of St. Mark s. 
 Howard had objected that the dedications under 
 the windows referred (as he had discovered by 
 adroit questions that gave his informants no 
 idea whatever of what he was driving at) to per 
 sons who had never held office of any kind in the 
 church. 
 
 Edgar had then fallen back on the theory that 
 the figures were portraits of the persons whom the 
 windows commemorated. Howard triumphantly 
 queried why, then, should the legend, " Sacred to 
 the memory of Walter, beloved husband of Mary 
 Bird Ferris," appear under a tall woman in dark 
 [171]
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 green glass with a most feminine amount of hair 
 and a long red sash ? Edgar was staggered, but 
 suddenly recalled his father s glowing account of 
 a costume ball given by the Knights of Pythias, 
 in which many of the Knights appeared in wom 
 en s clothes, one in particular, the proprietor of a 
 fish market, having rented a long and flowing wig 
 the better to deceive his fellow-Knights and their 
 delighted guests. This had impressed Edgar as 
 intensely humorous ; he greatly enjoyed picturing 
 the scene to his imagination, and he strengthened 
 his wavering infallibility by declaring that the 
 beloved husband of Mary Bird Ferris was beyond 
 doubt a Pythian in costume. 
 
 This had silenced Howard for a week, but one 
 afternoon at evensong, just before the electric bell 
 sounded in the robing-room to summon them to 
 the hall, he had rapidly inquired in a hissing 
 whisper, " Who that white puppy carry in the 
 flag in the round window on the side, where the 
 bird was, was a picture of ? " 
 
 The bird was the lee tern -eagle, and neither of 
 the antagonists had ever seen a lamb. Edgar 
 I 172 1
 
 EDGAR, THE CHOIR BOY UN CELESTIAL 
 
 had recognized the fact that it was a poorly drawn 
 puppy, and he did not believe that it could pos 
 sibly have balanced in one crooked-up knee and 
 at that perilous angle any such banner as the ar 
 tist had given it. It was also crushingly apparent 
 to him that no Knight of Pythias, with all the 
 
 " Who that white puppy 
 carryin the faff . . . was. 1 " 
 
 assistance in the world, could transform himself 
 into such a woolly, curly, four- legged object as 
 that. 
 
 Then why should the brass plate beneath it de 
 clare that this rose-window was placed in " loving 
 memory of Alice Helen Worden, who departed 
 this life June nineteenth, eighteen hundred and 
 ninety " ? That was no name for a puppy, to 
 [1731
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 begin with. The whole affair irritated Edgar 
 exceedingly. He saw no explanation whatever. 
 He perceived that he should have to fight the 
 first alto. This was not only a great responsibility 
 in itself, but the necessity of evading the parental 
 eye added to the nervous strain, and the conscious 
 ness that on this particular Sunday afternoon Mr. 
 Ogden occupied one of the rear pews, with the idea 
 of seeing how he behaved during service, and sub 
 sequently accompanying him home, so weighed 
 upon the spirits of the first soprano that William 
 Waters accomplished the choir steps, in the reces 
 sional, without a stumble. 
 
 Throughout the service Edgar was as one in a 
 dream. His vision was turned inward, and he 
 even forgot his effective trick of frightening the 
 choirmaster into cold chills by looking vacantly 
 uncertain of the proper moment to take up the 
 choir s share of the responses. The fact that he 
 invariably came in at the precise beat had never 
 fortified Mr. Fellowes against that nervous shud 
 der as he saw his first soprano s mouth open hesi- 
 tatinglytwo seconds before the time. To-day he 
 [1741
 
 EDGAR, THE CHOIR BOY UNCELESTIAL 
 
 was spared all anxiety. Edgar s voice and Tim s 
 eyes were the perfection of tuneful devotion. 
 
 "And bless thine in-her-i-lance ! " 
 
 they implored softly. Neither of them had the re 
 motest idea what inheritance meant they would 
 have besought as willingly a blessing for irrele 
 vance or inelegance ; but to the assistant clergy 
 man, whose nervous scratching of his nose, while 
 waiting for the alms-basin to reach him, was to 
 Edgar and Tim as definite and eagerly awaited a 
 part of the service as any other detail, the slow- 
 syllabled Gregorian cadence brought the word in 
 a sudden new light and he made it the text for a 
 sermon so successful as to get him, a little later, 
 a parish of his own. This leads us to many in 
 teresting conclusions, musical and other. 
 
 The rector noticed with pleasure the seedy- 
 looking man in the back of the church : he was 
 just then smarting a little under the accusation of 
 "aristocratic tendencies": a body of conservatives 
 had never approved of the boy-choir. He hoped 
 to get the man into the Brotherhood of St. 
 I 1751
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 Andrew, if he were allied to no other organiza 
 tion. 
 
 Mr. Ogden, as we know, was on business of his 
 own business that kept him glaring fixedly in 
 the rector s direction, which encouraged that good 
 man still further. It is to be doubted if the 
 Brotherhood would have appealed to him, how 
 ever. Not that he would have been hindered by 
 any narrow sectarian tendencies. Mrs. Ogden, 
 vyho did up the shirt-waists of the Presbyterian 
 minister s daughter, was by her presented regu 
 larly with a missionary bank in the form of a 
 papier-mache cottage with a chimney imitating 
 red brick ; and Edgar, employing a Napoleonic 
 strategy, triumphantly attended the Methodist 
 Christmas festivals and the Baptist Sunday-school 
 picnics, the latter society offering a merry-go- 
 round on a larger scale, the former providing the 
 infant faithful with more practicable presents and 
 larger candy-bags. Squealer, moreover, had sung 
 " The Holy City " more than once for the Con 
 gregational Christian Endeavor Society, so that 
 Mr. Ogden felt, with a certain justice, that his 
 
 I 176 I
 
 EDGAR, THE CHOIR BOY UNCELESTIAL 
 
 church connection did him credit on the whole, 
 and excused himself from any undue energy in 
 that direction. 
 
 He watched his son keenly, but Edgar s eccle 
 siastical demeanor was without a flaw. More 
 over, his plans were gradually maturing. He 
 sang Amen at proper intervals and by a process 
 of unconscious cerebration managed to get be 
 tween the organist and the tenor, who depended 
 on Mr. Fellowes to mark the time for him with 
 his left hand, and in consequence of being unable 
 to see him, bungled his offertory solo ; but his 
 thoughts were otherwhere. He had decided to 
 slip out of the south transept door, thus eluding 
 parental pursuit, and fight Howard Potter in his 
 own back yard before he slept. He would prac 
 tise upon his victim a recent scientific acquisition 
 proudly styled by him " the upper-cut,"" which he 
 had learned from an acquaintance at the cost of 
 ten cents and three sugar-cookies. 
 
 At this point the anthem-prelude drew him to 
 his feet. He had saved his voice, according to 
 directions, for his solo, and in the waiting hush 
 [177]
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 every word flowed, soft and pure, to the end of 
 the church. 
 
 " Mercy and truth, mercy and truth, mercy 
 Ah, that exquisite soft swoop downward ! The 
 organ rippled on contentedly, a continuation of 
 Edgar s flutelike tones " and truth are me-et 
 together ! " There was all the richness of a wo 
 man s voice, all the passionless clearness of a 
 boy s, all the morning innocence of a child s. 
 
 It occurred to him suddenly that the north 
 transept would be safer it was on the side 
 farthest from home. 
 
 " Righteousness and peace, righteousness and 
 peace have kissed each other ! " 
 
 He wondered if Howard had learned the up 
 per-cut since their last encounter. 
 
 Tim s face was as the face of an angel ; a long 
 slanting ray from the rose-window fell across his 
 curls. 
 
 " Have kissed each other" Edgar sighed softly. 
 
 "Have kissed each other "the caressing tones 
 
 melted into the organ s, whispered once more, 
 
 " each other" and died lingeringly. A long 
 
 [178]
 
 EDGAR, THE CHOIR BOY U N C E L K S T I A L 
 
 breath, an audible " Ah-h-h ! " drifted through 
 the church. The choirmaster kicked his feet 
 together under the organ for joy. He little 
 knew that at that very moment the future of 
 his vested choir was swinging lightly in the 
 balance. 
 
 But such was the fact. Fate, who links to 
 gether events seemingly isolated, smoothed Ed 
 gar s way to his fight, but allowed him to be 
 beaten. If this had not happened, his wrath 
 would not have vented itself in hectoring a bad- 
 tempered bass at the Wednesday rehearsal, by 
 scampering in front of him and mimicking with 
 wonderful accuracy his gruff, staccato voice. 
 
 " He taketh up the isles as a ver-ry little 
 thing ! " mocked Edgar. 
 
 " Shut up ! " growled the bass. 
 
 " A ver-ry lit-tle thing ! " Edgar continued 
 malignantly, slipping across his victim s path. 
 
 " Oh, all right, young feller ! " called the bass, 
 
 enraged at the grins and applause of the other 
 
 men, " all right ! Just you wait till Sunday, 
 
 that s all ! " If Edgar had not teased him so, he 
 
 [179]
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 " You re going to be bounced, that s what. 1 " 
 
 would not have added : " I know what ll happen 
 then, if you don t." 
 
 " What ? " Edgar inquired derisively, catch 
 ing up with him. 
 
 "You re going to be bounced, that s what," 
 said the bass irritably. 
 
 " Aw. come off! I ain t either ! " 
 [180]
 
 EDGAR, THE CHOIR BOY UXCELESTIAL 
 
 " Well, you ought to be, the whole pack of 
 you, " the bass continued decidedly. " Bag and 
 baggage! And a good riddance, too. No choir 
 boy camping-out tins summer ! " 
 
 Edgar dropped behind and mused. " Who 
 told yer ? " he called. 
 
 "Ask Fellowes and if he don t lick you, I 
 will ! " retorted the bass, making a quick grab, 
 which Edgar easily evaded. 
 
 He summoned his mates immediately ; the 
 question was laid before them. Had they heard 
 that they were to be bounced ? Did they be 
 lieve that the two weeks 1 camping-out, the object 
 of all their endurance and loyalty, the prize of 
 their high calling, was to be discontinued ? Tim 
 was deputed to inquii e on Saturday afternoon. 
 He returned disconsolate ; they shoved each other 
 significantly. 
 
 " Whafd he say ? Whafd he say ? " 
 
 " He says mos 1 probly not. Says it costs too 
 much. Says maybe a picnic 
 
 " Aw ! old chump ! Goin to bounce us, 
 too ? " 
 
 [181]
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 " I dunno. I guess so. I didn t ask him that. 
 I just says to him, Aw, say, Mr. Fellowes, ain t 
 us boys gom"* cam pin ? An 1 he says, I guess 
 
 " Well, I bet he dont bounce me! * 
 not this year, Tim, mos prob ly. Maybe a pic- 
 
 " Well, I bet he don t bounce me ! I betcher 
 that, I betcher, now ! " 
 
 Edgar strutted before them. They regarded 
 him with interest. 
 
 " Whatcher goin to do ? " they asked respect- 
 
 fuUy. 
 
 [182]
 
 EDGAR, THE CHOIR BOY UN CELESTIAL 
 
 "Whafll I do? HI Til bounce myself!" 
 he called over his shoulder, as he strode home. 
 
 His moody air during supper convinced Mr. 
 Ogden that something was up. Ever since he 
 had discovered Edgar s demand for an additional 
 ten cents a Sunday, on the ground that his mother 
 thought him worth more, and his later daring 
 strike for five cents further salary, which the 
 choirmaster had innocently considered abundantly 
 justified and paid out of his own pocket, Mr. 
 Ogden, who, having heard rumors of wild dissipa 
 tions in the peanut and rootbeer line, had pounced 
 upon his son returning plethoric from pay day, 
 and promptly annexed the extra fifteen cents, was 
 convinced of the necessity of surveillance for this 
 wily wage-earner, and formed the habit of escort 
 ing him regularly on pay nights, alone at first, 
 later assisted by Mrs. Ogden, who accompanied 
 the family group as a self-constituted and final 
 auditor. It has frequently been remarked that a 
 great grief may bind together once disunited mem 
 bers of a family ; it is extremely improbable that 
 any affliction whatever could have produced among 
 [183]
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 the Ogdens such a gratifying espit de corps as 
 resulted from their unfeigned interest in pay day. 
 But when Mr. Ogden had shadowed his son to 
 no more secluded and dangerous spot than the 
 church-yard, and saw him in earnest conclave with 
 his attentive mates, he went, relieved, about his 
 own business, reassured by the words " campin 
 out " and " Sunday afternoon," that he caught 
 from behind a convenient tombstone. He was 
 utterly unconscious that the scene he had left was 
 far more menacing to his household than even the 
 most disfiguring fight of his warlike son s varied 
 repertoire. But so it was. Haranguing, promis 
 ing, taunting, threatening, Edgar led them, fi 
 nally subdued, into one of the most satisfactory 
 rehearsals of the year. 
 
 r 
 
 They waited till quarter of eleven on Sunday, 
 and finally the men marched in alone, somewhat 
 conscious and ill at ease, followed by a red-faced, 
 determined rector, and a puzzled visiting clergy 
 man. They sang " O happy band of pilgrims" 
 but it was remarked by the wondering congrega- 
 
 [184]
 
 EDGAR, THE CHOIR BOY UN CELESTIAL 
 
 tion that they did not look happy themselves. 
 There was no music but the hymns, which, as 
 they had been altered to well-known numbers, 
 
 " And made a speech that will adorn the parish annalg 
 for many a year." 
 
 were chanted lustily by the inhabitants of the 
 pews, thus winning the sincere admiration of the 
 visiting clergyman. 
 
 " Really, such well-trained congregational sing- 
 
 [185]
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 ing is quite rare," he remarked afterward to 
 the rector, and was somewhat surprised at the 
 short answer : " It shall certainly never occur 
 again." 
 
 It had gone hard with the vested choir but for 
 Mrs. Ogden. Mr. Fellowes pleaded in vain ; in 
 vain the Ladies Auxiliary passed resolutions ; 
 the rector was firm. It was only when Mrs. Og 
 den swept in upon him in his study, a chastened, 
 still apprehensive boy under one arm, followed by 
 half a dozen women similarly equipped, and made 
 a speech that will adorn the parish annals for 
 many a year, that he yielded, respectfully con 
 vinced. 
 
 Edgar had met his Waterloo, and lived, so to 
 speak, under a consequent military surveillance, 
 with much of his prestige gone, his pay docked 
 for a month, and the certainty of approaching 
 warm weather, when it would be impossible to 
 take cold, and nothing but a summons to the 
 choir invisible could excuse him from rehearsals 
 here, to render the future all too clear to him. 
 In the words of the processional,
 
 EDGAR, THE CHOIR BOY UN CELESTIAL 
 
 " His tongue could never tire 
 Of singing with the choir." 
 
 To-day, if you should attend evensong at St. 
 Mark s, you will beyond a doubt be delighted 
 with a silver voice that appears to proceed from 
 a violet-eyed boy with a sweet expression. 
 
 " It is a good thing 1 to give thanks unto the 
 Lord!" the voice declares melodiously, but it is 
 doubtful if its owner is in a thankful frame of 
 mind. He would in all probability prefer to be 
 with his brother Samuel, who is at present tour 
 ing the West triumphantly with a Methodist re 
 vivalist, rendering " Where is my wandering boy 
 to-night ? " to weeping congregations for ten dol 
 lars a week and his traveling expenses. And 
 even this success leaves Squealer dissatisfied ; he 
 would far rather be in his father s position 
 first tenor in the Denman Thompson Old 
 Homestead Quartette and sing " The Palms " 
 behind the scenes, when the stereopticon vision 
 of the repentant prodigal thrills the audi 
 ence. 
 
 It would seem that your artistic temperament 
 
 [187]
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 is doomed to discontent. Whereas Mrs. Ogden, 
 who cannot carry a tune, is perfectly satisfied 
 with fine laundry work. 
 
 "Perfectly satisfied with fine laundry work." 
 
 [188]
 
 THE LITTLE GOD AND DICKY
 
 THE LITTLE GOD AND DICKY 
 
 HERE are you going?" said some- 
 bodv, as he slunk out toward the hat- 
 rack. 
 
 " Oh, out," he returned, with what a vaude 
 ville artist would call a good imitation of a per 
 son wishing to appear blamelessly forgetful of 
 something he remembered quite dis 
 tinctly. 
 
 " Well, see that you don t stay 
 long. Remember what it is this 
 afternoon." 
 
 lie turned like a stag at bay. 
 
 " What is it this afternoon?" he 
 demanded viciously. 
 
 " You know very well." 
 
 " What? 1 " 
 
 " See that you re here, that s all. 
 
 You ve got to get dressed." 
 
 "// turned Me 
 
 " I will not go to that old dancing- a stag at bay." 
 [191]
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 school again, and I tell you that I won t, and I 
 won t. And I won t ! " 
 
 "Now, Dick, don t begin that all over again. 
 It s so silly of you. You ve got to go." 
 
 Why ? " 
 
 " Because it s the thing to do." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " Because you must learn to dance." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " Every nice boy learns." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " That will do, Richard. Go and find your 
 pumps. Now, get right up from the floor, and 
 if you scratch the Morris chair I shall speak to 
 your father. Aren t you ashamed of yourself? 
 Get right up you must expect to be hurt, if 
 you pull so. Come, Richard! Now, stop crying 
 a great boy like you ! I am sorry I hurt your 
 elbow, but you know very well you aren t crying 
 for that at all. Come along ! " 
 
 His sister flitted by the door in an engaging 
 deshabille, her accordeon-pleated skirt held care 
 fully from the floor, her hair in two glistening 
 [192]
 
 THE LITTLE GOD AND DICKY 
 
 blue-knotted pigtails. A trail of rose-scented 
 soap floated through the hall. 
 
 " Hurry up, Dick, or well be late," she called 
 back sweetly, secure in the knowledge that if such 
 virtuous accents maddened him still further, no 
 one could blame her. His rage justified her faith. 
 
 " Oh, you shut up, will you ! " he snarled. 
 
 She looked meek, and listened to his depriva 
 tion of dessert for the rest 
 of the week with an air of 
 love for the sinner and ha 
 tred for the sin that deceived 
 even her older sister, who 
 was dressing her. 
 
 A desperately patient 
 monologue from the next 
 room indicated the course 
 of events there. 
 
 " Your necktie is on the 
 bed. No, I don t know 
 where the blue one is it 
 doesn t matter ; that is j ust 
 as good. Yes, it is. No, 
 [193] 
 
 Secure in the knowledge 
 that if such virtuous 
 accents maddened him 
 still further, no one 
 could blame her."
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 you can not. You will have to wear one. Be 
 cause no one ever goes without. I don t know 
 why. 
 
 " Many a boy would be thankful and glad to 
 have silk stockings. Nonsense your legs are 
 
 " Stop your scowling, for goodness 1 sake, Dick. " 
 
 warm enough. I don t believe you. Now, Rich 
 ard, how perfectly ridiculous ! There is no left 
 and right to stockings. You have no time to 
 change. Shoes are a different thing. Well, 
 hurry up, then. Because they are made so, I 
 suppose. I don t know why. 
 
 " Brush it more on that side no, you can t 
 [194]
 
 THE LITTLE GOD AND DICKY 
 
 go to the barber s. You went last week. It 
 Jooks perfectly well. I cut it ? Why, I don t 
 know how to trim hair. Anyway, there isn t 
 time now. It will have to do. Stop your 
 scowling, for goodness 1 sake, Dick. Have you a 
 handkerchief? It makes no difference, you must 
 carry one. You ought to want to use it. Well, 
 you should. Yes, they always do, whether they 
 have colds or not. I don t know why. 
 
 "Your Golden Text! The idea! No, you 
 cannot. You can learn that Sunday before 
 church. This is not the time to learn Golden 
 Texts. I never saw such a child. Now take your 
 pumps and find the plush bag. Why not ? Put 
 them right with Ruth s. That s what the bag 
 was made for. Well, how do you want to carry 
 them ? Why, I never heard of anything so silly ! 
 You will knot the strings. I don t care if they do 
 carry skates that way skates are not slippers. 
 You d lose them. Very well, then, only hurry up. 
 I should think you d be ashamed to have them 
 dangling around your neck that way. Because 
 people never do carry them so. I don t know why. 
 [195]
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 " Now, here s your coat. Well, I can t help it, 
 you have no time to hunt for them. Put your 
 hands in your pockets it s not far. And mind 
 you don t run for Ruth every time. You don t 
 take any pains with her, and you hustle her about, 
 Miss Dorothy says. Take another little girl. 
 Yes, you must. I shall speak to your father if 
 you answer me in that way, Richard. Men don t 
 dance with their sisters. Because they don t. I 
 don t know why." 
 
 He slammed the door till the piazza shook, and 
 strode along beside his scandalized sister, the 
 pumps flopping noisily on his shoulders. She 
 tripped along contentedly - she liked to go. 
 The personality capable of extracting pleasure 
 from the hour before them baffled his comprehen 
 sion, and he scowled fiercely at her, rubbing his 
 silk stockings together at every step, to enjoy the 
 strange smooth sensation thus produced. This 
 gave him a bow-legged gait that distressed his 
 sister beyond words. 
 
 " I think you might stop. Everybody s look 
 ing at you ! Please stop, Dick Pendleton ; you re 
 [196]
 
 THE LITTLE GOD AND DICKY 
 
 a mean old thing. I should think you d be 
 ashamed to carry your slippers that way. If you 
 jump in that wet place and spatter me I shall tell 
 papa you will care, when I tell him, just the 
 same! You re 
 just as bad as you 
 can be. I shan t 
 speak with you 
 to-day ! " 
 
 She pursed up 
 her lips and main 
 tained a deter 
 mined silence. He 
 rubbed his legs 
 together with re 
 newed emphasis. 
 Acquaintances 
 met them and 
 passed, unconscious of anything but the sweet 
 picture of a sister and a brother and a plush 
 bag going daintily and dutifully to dancing- 
 school ; but his heart was hot at the injustice of 
 the world and the hypocritical cant of girls, and 
 
 Going daintily and dutifully to 
 dancing-school."
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 her thoughts were busy with her indictment of 
 him before the family tribunal she hoped he 
 would be sent to bed. Life is full and running 
 over with just such rosy deceits. 
 
 He jumped over the threshold of the long room 
 and aimed his cap at the head of a boy he knew, 
 who was standing on one foot to put on a slipper. 
 This destroyed his friend s balance, and a cheer 
 ing scuffle followed. Life assumed a more hope 
 ful aspect. In the other dressing-room his sister 
 had fluttered into a whispering, giggling, many- 
 colored throng ; buzzing and chuckling with the 
 rest, she adjusted her slippers, and perked out 
 her bows, her braids quivering with sociability. 
 
 A shrill whistle called them out in two crowd 
 ing bunches to the polished floor. 
 
 Hoping against hope, he had clung to the beau 
 tiful thought that Miss Dorothy would be sick, that 
 she had missed her train but no ! there she was, 
 with her shiny high-heeled slippers, her pink skirt 
 that pulled out like a fan, and her silver whistle on 
 a chain. The little clicking castanets that rang 
 out so sharply were in her hand beyond a doubt. 
 [198]
 
 THE LITTLE GOD AND DICKY 
 
 " Ready, children ! Spread out. Take your 
 lines. First position. Now ! " 
 
 The large man at the piano, who always looked 
 half asleep, thundered out the first bars of the 
 latest waltz, and the business began. 
 
 Their eyes were fixed solemnly on Miss Doro 
 thy s pointed shoes. They slipped and slid and 
 
 "A line of toes rose gradually." 
 
 crossed their legs and arched their pudgy insteps; 
 the boys breathed hard over their gleaming col 
 lars. On the right side of the hall thirty hands 
 held out their diminutive skirts at an alluring 
 angle. On the left, neat black legs pattered dili 
 gently through mystic evolutions. 
 
 The chords rolled out slower, with dramatic 
 [199]
 
 pauses between ; sharp clicks of the castanets 
 rang through the hall ; a line of toes rose gradu 
 ally towards the horizontal, whirled more or less 
 steadily about, crossed behind, bent low, bowed, 
 and with a flutter of skirts resumed the first posi 
 tion. 
 
 A little breeze of laughing admiration circled 
 the row of mothers and aunts. 
 
 " Isn t that too cunning ! Just like a little 
 ballet ! Aren t they graceful, really, now ! " 
 
 " One, two, three ! One, two, three ! Slide, 
 slide, cross ; one, two, three ! " 
 
 There are those who find pleasure in the aim 
 less intricacies of the dance ; self-respecting men 
 even have been known voluntarily to frequent as 
 semblies devoted to this nerve-racking attitudiniz 
 ing futility. Among such, however, you shall 
 seek in vain in future years for Richard Carr Pen- 
 dleton. 
 
 " One, two, three ! Reverse, two, three ! " If 
 you want your heels clipped, step back inadver 
 tently into Master Pendleton s domain. No mat 
 ter how pure your purposes, you will illustrate 
 [ 200 ]
 
 THE LITTLE GOD AND DICKY 
 
 the inevitable doom of the transgressor against 
 nature s immutable limitations ; you will be se 
 verely nipped. And it will be just he is tri 
 umphantly following the rules. 
 The whistle shrilled. 
 " Ready for the two-step, children ! " 
 A mild tolerance grew on him. If dancing must 
 be, better the two-step than anything else. It is 
 not an alluring dance, your two-step ; it does not 
 require temperament. Any one with a firm in 
 tention of keeping the time and a strong arm can 
 drag a girl through it very acceptably. It was 
 Dicky s custom to hurl himself at the colored 
 bunch nearest him, seize a Sabine, so to speak, 
 and plunge into the dance. He had his eye on 
 Louise Hetherington, a large, plump girl, with a 
 tremendous braid of hair. She was a size too big 
 for the class, but everybody liked to dance with 
 her, for she knew how, and piloted her diminutive 
 partners with great skill. But she had been 
 snapped up by the six-year-old Harold, and was 
 even now guiding his infant steps around the 
 hall. 
 
 [901]
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 Dicky skirted the row of mothers and aunts 
 cautiously. Heaven send Miss Dorothy was not 
 looking at him ! She seemed to have eyes in the 
 back of her head, that woman. 
 
 " Oh, look ! Did you ever see anything so 
 sweet ! " said somebody. Involuntarily he turned. 
 There in a corner, all by herself, a little girl was 
 gravely performing a dance. He stared at her 
 curiously. For the first time, free from all per 
 sonal connection with them, he discovered that 
 those motions were pretty. 
 
 She was ethereally slender, brown eyed, brown 
 haired, brown skinned. A little fluffy white dress 
 spread fan-shaped above her knees ; her ankles 
 were bird-like. The foot on which she poised 
 seemed hardly to rest on the ground ; the other, 
 pointed outward, hovered easily now here, now 
 there. Her eyes were serious, her hair hung loose. 
 She swayed lightly ; one little gloved hand held 
 out her skirt, the other marked the time. Her 
 performance was an apotheosis of the two-step : 
 that metronomic dance would not have recognized 
 itself under her treatment. 
 [202]
 
 Thethelia," she 
 lisped. 
 
 THE LITTLE GOD AND DICKY 
 
 Dicky admired. But the ad 
 miration of his sex is notoriously 
 fatal to the art that attracts it. 
 He advanced and bowed jerkily, 
 grasped one of the loops of her 
 sash in the back, stamped gently 
 a moment to get the time, and 
 the artist sank into the partner, 
 the pirouette grew coarse to 
 sympathize with clay. 
 
 " Don t they do it well, 
 though ! See those little things near the door ! " 
 he caught as they went by, and his heart swelled 
 with pride. 
 
 " What s your name ? " he asked abruptly after 
 the dance. 
 
 "Thethelia," she lisped, and shook her hair 
 over her cheek. She was very shy. 
 
 " Mine s Richard Carr Pendleton. My father s 
 a lawyer. What s yours ? " 
 
 "I I don t know ! " she gasped, obviously 
 considering flight. 
 
 He chuckled delightedly. Was ever such 
 [203]
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 engaging idiocy ? She didn t know. Well, 
 well! 
 
 " Pooh ! " he said grandly, " I guess you know. 
 Don t you, really ? " 
 
 She looked hopelessly at her fan, and shook her 
 head. Suddenly a light dawned in her big eyes. 
 
 " Maybe I know," she murmured. " I gueth I 
 know. He he th a really thtate ! " 
 
 " A really state ? That isn t anything noth 
 ing at all. A really state ? " he frowned at her 
 judicially. Her lip quivered ; she turned and ran 
 away. 
 
 "Here, come back !" he called, but she was gone. 
 
 " Ready for the cotillion, children ! " and Miss 
 Dorothy, her arms full of long, colored ribbons, 
 was upon him. 
 
 There was a rumbling chord from the piano, a 
 mad rush for the head of the line. A rosy blonde, 
 with big, china blue eyes, dragged her protesting 
 sailor-suited partner to the front, and glared 
 triumphantly at the roly-poly couple behind her. 
 They stared at each other desperately they had 
 had their dreams of precedence and suddenly, 
 [20*]
 
 THE LITTLE GOD AND DICKY 
 
 as the robbers stood far apart and swung their 
 arms carelessly high, the roly-poly couple crouched 
 down, slipped between them, and emerged at the 
 head of the procession ! 
 
 The march began. Dicky, linked to a tom 
 boy in white duck, who whistled the march cor 
 rectly as she swung along, had fought for a place 
 behind his late partner, and as they clambered 
 into adjacent chairs he nudged her violently and 
 whispered, " Fm going to choose you ! " 
 
 She smiled shyly. 
 
 " All right," she said. 
 
 Miss Dorothy approached with the favors. A 
 violent hissing and snapping of fingers burst out 
 from the line. They wriggled on their chairs. 
 Miss Dorothy paused, threateningly. 
 
 " Perhaps we had better not have any cotil 
 lion," she said sternly. " If I hear another 
 hiss There was a dead silence. 
 
 Dicky sat primly, looking at the ceiling. As 
 
 he had expected, a broad violet streamer fell in 
 
 his lap. He leaped to the floor, seized Cecelia by 
 
 her skirt, hustled the tomboy, as in duty bound, 
 
 [205]
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 within the purple leash, and beckoned to the next 
 girl in the row. They arranged themselves three 
 abreast, and he drove them, to the inspiring two- 
 step, across the room, in line with two other 
 drivers similarly equipped. On the return trip 
 they were confronted by three bands of prancing 
 little boys, perilously realistic in their interpreta 
 tion of the pretty figure, and as they met in the 
 middle, with a scramble of adjustment, the steeds 
 paired off neatly, and the flushed drivers, more 
 or less entangled in their long ribbons, accom 
 plished an ultimate two-step. 
 
 " Now, you choose me," he commanded, as they 
 scrambled into the chairs. Again she smiled, 
 again she hid her cheek with her hair. 
 
 " All right," she said again. 
 
 In vain Louise Hetherington made signs to him ; 
 in vain the rosy blonde snapped her fingers he 
 was blind and deaf. He slipped into the broad 
 blue ribbon she held out to him at arm^s length, 
 and cantered cheerfully before her, her slave for 
 ever. How lightly she floated on behind them ! 
 Not like that tomboy Frances, who clucked at 
 [ 206 ]
 
 THE LITTLE GOD AND DICKY 
 
 her team as if they were horses, and nearly ran 
 them down ; nor like that silly, fat, yellow- 
 curled Gladys, who bubbled with laughter and 
 hung back on the satin reins until her team 
 nearly fell over. Cecelia swam like thistledown 
 in their wake, and slipped the ribbon over their 
 heads with all the effect of a scarf dance. 
 
 " How lightly she floated on behitul them!" 
 
 " That will do for to-day," said Miss Dorothy, 
 gathering up the ribbons, and they surged into 
 the dressing-rooms, to be buttoned up and pulled 
 out of draughts and trundled home. 
 
 She was swathed carefully in a wadded silk 
 jacket, and then enveloped in a hooded Mother 
 Hubbard cloak ; she looked like an angelic 
 [207]
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 brownie. Dicky ran up to her as a woman led 
 her out to a coupe at the curb, and tugged at the 
 ribbon of her cloak. 
 
 " Where do you live ? Say, where do you ? " 
 he demanded. 
 
 Her hair was under the hood, but she hid her 
 face behind the woman. 
 
 "I I don t know," she said softly. The 
 woman laughed. 
 
 " Why, yes, you do, Cissy," she reproved. 
 " Tell him directly, now." 
 
 She put one tiny finger in her mouth. 
 
 " I I gueth I live on Chethnut Thtreet," she 
 called as the door slammed and shut her in. 
 
 His sister amicably offered him half the plush 
 bag to carry, and opened a running criticism of 
 the afternoon. 
 
 " Did you ever see anybody act like that Fran- 
 nie Leach ? She s awfully rough. Miss Dorothy 
 spoke to her twice wasn t that dreadful ? What 
 made you dance all the time with Cissy Weston ? 
 She s an awful baby a regular fraid-cat ! We 
 girls tease her just as easy do you like her ? " 
 [208]
 
 THE LITTLE GOD AND DICKY 
 
 " She s the prettiest one there ! " he said. 
 
 His sister stared at him. 
 
 " Why, Dick Pendleton, she is not ! She s so 
 little she s not half so pretty as Agnes, or or 
 lots of the girls. She s such a baby. She puts 
 her finger in her mouth if anybody says anything 
 at all. If you ask her a single thing she does 
 like this : * I don t know, I don t know ! " 
 
 He smiled scornfully. Did he not know how 
 she did it ? Had he not seen that adorable finger, 
 those appealing eyes ? 
 
 " And she can t talk plain ! She lisps truly 
 she does ! " 
 
 Heavens ! Was ever a girl so thick-headed as 
 that sister of his ! Brains, technical knowledge, 
 experience of the world, these he had never looked 
 to find in her ; but perceptions, feminine intui 
 tions were they lacking, too ? 
 
 Poor deluded sex ! What shall emancipation, 
 what shall higher education profit you that cannot 
 even now discern what charm has entangled your 
 brothers and husbands ? 
 
 " She puts her finger in her mouth ! She can t 
 [209]
 
 L T H K MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 talk plain ! " Alas, my sisters, it was Helenas 
 finger that toppled over Troy, and Diane de Poi 
 tiers stammered ! 
 
 He listened calmly to his sister s account of his 
 infatuation and its causelessness. 
 
 " Why, she s a nice little girl," said his aunt, 
 smiling, " but, really, she can t be called exactly 
 pretty. There is something rather attractive 
 about her eyes." 
 
 In this wise may Mark Antony s aunt have dis 
 missed the very Serpent of old Nile herself ! 
 
 " I should like," he said to his mother the next 
 day, " to go and see her." 
 
 " Well, you can go with me to-morrow, per 
 haps, when I call on Mrs. Weston," she assented. 
 
 "What? Why, of course not! Men don t 
 go calling in pumps. Your best shoes will do. 
 Are you crazy ? A straw hat in February ! 
 You will wear your middy cap. Now don t argue 
 the matter, Richard, or you can t go at all." 
 
 Seated opposite her on a hassock, their moth 
 ers chatting across the room, his assurance with 
 ered away. There was nothing whatever to say, 
 [210]
 
 THE LITTLE GOD AND DICKY 
 
 " Seated opposite her 
 on a hassock." 
 
 and he said it, adequately perhaps, but with a 
 sense of deepening embarrassment. She took ref 
 uge behind her hair, and they stared uncomforta 
 bly at each other. 
 
 " And he has never condescended to have any 
 thing to do with little girls before, so we are 
 much impressed." 
 
 Oh, why did not the hassock yawn beneath him 
 and swallow him up ! To discuss him as if he 
 were a piece of furniture ! Laugh away ! The 
 crackling of thorns under a pot. 
 
 Day before yesterday he had been so easily 
 grand seigneur, so tolerantly charmed : to-day he 
 wished he had not come. Why didn^t she speak? 
 If only they were out of doors ; in a room with 
 pictures and cushions a man is at such a disad 
 vantage. 
 
 [211]
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 " If you ll come over to my house, Til show 
 you the biggest rat-hole you ever saw it s in 
 the stable ! " he said desperately. It was a good 
 deal to do for a girl, but she was worth it. 
 
 " Oh ! Oh ! " she breathed, and her eyes 
 widened. 
 
 " Maybe you can see the rat he doesn t often 
 come out, though," he added honestly. 
 
 She shuddered and twisted her fingers vio 
 lently. 
 
 " No ! No ! " she whispered revoltedly. " I 
 I hate ratths ! I dreamed about one ! I had 
 to have the gath lit ! Oh, no ! " 
 
 Frightened at this long speech, she looked ob 
 stinately in her lap, though he tried persistently 
 to catch her eye and smile. 
 
 Their mothers 1 voices rose and fell ; they chat 
 tered meaninglessly. Ladies talked and talked : 
 they never did anything to speak of, they only 
 talked. 
 
 She would not look at him : at his wits ends, 
 he played his highest card. If she were of mor 
 tal flesh and blood, this would interest her. 
 [212]
 
 THE LITTLE GOD AND DICKY 
 
 " Look here ! Do you know what Boston bull 
 pups are ? Do you ? " 
 
 She nodded vigorously. 
 
 " Well, you know their tails ? " 
 
 She nodded uncertainly. 
 
 " You know they re just little stumps ?" 
 
 " Oh, yeth ! " she beamed at him. " My Un 
 cle Harry th got a bulldog. Hith name ith Eli. 
 He liketh me." 
 
 " Well, see here ! Do you know how they 
 make their tails short ? A man bites Vm off ! A 
 fellow told me " 
 
 "Oh! Oh! Oh! 11 She shuddered off the 
 hassock, and rushed to her mother, gasping with 
 horror. 
 
 " He thayth he thayth " words failed her. 
 Broken sobs of " Eli ! Oh, Eli ! " filled the par 
 lor. He was dazed, terrified. What had hap 
 pened ? What had he done ? He was shuffled 
 disgracefully from the room ; apologies rose above 
 her sobbing ; the door closed behind Dicky and 
 his mother. 
 
 Waves of rebuke rolled over his troubled spirit. 
 [213]
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 " Of all dreadful things to say to a poor, ner 
 vous little girl ! I am too mortified. Richard, 
 how do you learn such dreadful, dreadful things ? 
 It s not true." 
 
 " But, mamma, it is ! It truly is. When 
 they are little a man bites them off. Peter told 
 me so. He puts his mouth right down r 
 
 " Richard ! Not another word ! You are 
 disgusting perfectly disgusting. You trouble 
 me very much." 
 
 He retired to the clothes- tree in the side yard 
 there were no junipers there and cursed his 
 gods. To have made her cry ! They thought 
 he didn t care, but oh, he did ! He felt as if he 
 had eaten a cold, gray stone that weighed down 
 his stomach. The cat slunk by, but he threw 
 nothing at her, and his neighbor s St. Bernard 
 puppy rolled inquiringly into the hedge, stuck 
 there, and thrashed about helplessly, but he said 
 nothing to frighten it. He thought of supper 
 they had spoken of cinnamon rolls and little 
 yellow custards but without the usual thrill. 
 What was the matter ? Was he going to be 
 [214]
 
 THE LITTLE GOD AND DICKY 
 
 sick ? There seemed no outlook to life one 
 thing was as good as another. He regarded go 
 ing to bed with a dull acquiescence. As well 
 that as anything else. It might be eight o clock 
 now for all he cared. 
 
 At night his mother came and sat for a mo 
 ment on the side of the bed. 
 
 " Papa doesn t want you to feel too bad, dear," 
 she said. " He knows that you never meant to 
 frighten Cecelia so. You know that little girls 
 are very different from little boys in some ways. 
 Things that seem er amusing to you, seem 
 very cruel to them. To-morrow would you like 
 to send her some flowers and write her a little 
 note, and tell her how sorry you are ? " 
 
 He could not speak, but he seized his mother s 
 hand and kissed it up to her lace ruffle. The 
 cold, gray stone melted away from his stomach ; 
 again the future stretched rosily vague before 
 him. In happy dreams he did the honors of the 
 rat-hole to a sweet, shy guest. 
 
 In the morning he applied himself to his note 
 of apology ; his sister ruled the lines on a beauti- 
 [215]
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 ful sheet of paper with a curly gold " P " at the 
 top, and he bent to his task with extended 
 tongue and lines between his eyes. Hitherto his 
 mother had been his only correspondent. He 
 carried her the note with a sense of justifiable 
 pride. 
 
 " It s spelled all right," he said, " because 
 every word I didn t know I asked Bess, and she 
 told me." 
 
 My dear Cecelia : 
 
 I am going to send you some flowrs. I am sory they 
 bite them of but they do. I hope you did not hafto lite 
 the gas. we are all well and haveing a good time, with 
 much love I am your loving son. 
 
 RICHARD CAHR PENDLETON. 
 
 " Bess did the periods, but I remembered the 
 large Fs myself," he added comfortably. " Is it 
 all right ? " 
 
 His mother left the room abruptly, and he, 
 supposing it to be one of her many suddenly- 
 remembered errands, was mercifully unconscious 
 of any connection between himself and the roars 
 of laughter that came from his father s study. 
 [216]
 
 THE LITTLE GOD AND DICKY 
 
 " Just as it is, mind you. Lizzie, just as it is ! " 
 his father called after her as she came out again ; 
 and though she insisted that it was too absurd, 
 and that something was the matter with her chil 
 dren, she was sure, nevertheless she kissed him 
 with no particular occasion, and held her peace 
 nobly when he selected a hideous purple blossom 
 with spotty leaves, assisted by the interested 
 florist. 
 
 His offering was acceptable, and if, on the re 
 newal of an acquaintance destined to grow into a 
 gratifying intimacy, he learned from bitter expe 
 rience that more than one subject was tabooed, 
 that more than one sudden emotion must expect 
 no answering sympathy, how was he to evade the 
 tribulations of his kind ? This cup was prepared 
 for them from the beginning. If earthly bliss 
 were flawless, should we concern ourselves at all 
 with heaven ? 
 
 That day she met him on her walk, and smil 
 ing almost fearlessly, offered him a camel ani 
 mal cracker ! True, the most obvious projection 
 was bitten off, and that process is the best part 
 
 [217]
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 of animal crackers ; but then, she was only 
 seven ! It is not an age to which one looks for 
 the most brilliant altruism. 
 
 He gave her in return a long-cherished cane- 
 top of polished wood, cut in the shape of a grey 
 hound s head, with eyes of orange-colored glass. 
 She seemed almost to appreciate it. He had 
 been offered a white mouse for it more than once. 
 
 For two long months the Little God led him 
 along the primrose way. The poor fellow 
 thought it was the main road ; he had yet to 
 learn it was but a by-path. But the Little God 
 was not through with him. 
 
 Her brother, an uninteresting fellow at first, 
 had improved on acquaintance, and though he 
 scoffed at Dicky s devotion to his sister think 
 ing her a great baby he had come to consider 
 him a friend. One day, late in April, he led 
 Dick out to a deserted corner of the grounds, and 
 for the sum of a small red top and a blue glass 
 eye that had been a doll s most winning feature, 
 consented to impart to him a song of such deli 
 cious badness that it had to be sung in secret. 
 [ 218 ]
 
 THE LITTLE GOD AND DICKY 
 
 a 
 
 " Yelly belly, yelly belly S " 
 
 He had just learned it himself, and the knowl 
 edge of it admitted one to a sort of club, whose 
 members were bound together by the vicious syl 
 lables. Dicky was pleasantly uncertain of its 
 meaning, but it contained words that custom has 
 banished from the family circle. They crooned 
 it fearfully, with faces averted from the house, 
 and an exhilarating sense of dissipation. 
 
 " Yellow belly, yellow belly, come an 1 take a swim I 
 Yes, by golly, when the tide comes in ! " 
 
 As he slipped back to the house alone, practis 
 ing it furtively and foretasting the joys of im 
 parting it to Peter, the stableman, Cecelia ap 
 peared suddenly from behind a large tree. She 
 was all smiles she was not afraid of him any 
 [219]
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 more. Dancing lightly on one foot, she waved 
 her bonnet and began to sing, bubbling with 
 laughter. Horror ! What did he hear ? 
 
 " Yelly belly, yelly belly, comitf take a thwim! 
 Yith, by " 
 
 " Oh, stop ! Cissy, stop it ! You mustn t 
 sing that ! " he cried wildly. 
 
 She looked elfish. 
 
 " Why not ? Dicky thingth it," she said with 
 a happy smile. 
 
 She had a heavenly habit, left from babyhood, 
 of referring to her interlocutor and occasionally 
 to herself in the third person. 
 
 " But girls mustn t sing it," he warned her 
 sternly. " Don t you dare to it s a secret." 
 
 She danced farther away. 
 
 " Dicky thingth it. Thithy thingth it ! " she 
 persisted, and as he scowled she pursed her lips 
 
 again. 
 
 " Yelly belly, yelly belly " 
 
 " I won t sing it ! I won t ! " he cried desper 
 ately. " I won t if you ll keep still ! So there ! 
 I tell you I won t ! " 
 
 [ 2-20 ]
 
 THE LITTLE GOD AND DICKY 
 
 She stopped, amused at his emotion. All ig 
 norant of his sacrifice, all careless of his heroic 
 defense of her, she only knew that she could tease 
 him in an entirely new way. 
 
 And the Little God, knowing that Dicky 
 would keep his word, and that Peter would never 
 get the chance for the scandalized admiration 
 once in store for him, strutted proudly away and 
 polished up his chains. His victim was secure. 
 
 Her brother, on learning the facts, suggested 
 slapping her well good heavens ! and having 
 nothing more to do with her, for a mean, sneak 
 ing tattle-tale. Here was an opportunity to 
 break his bonds. But to those who have served 
 the Little God it will be no surprise to learn that 
 it was on that very evening that he made his fa 
 mous proposal to the assembled family, namely, 
 that he and Cecelia should be really engaged like 
 her Uncle Harry and Miss Merriam, and in a lit 
 tle while marry and set up housekeeping in the 
 guest chamber. 
 
 "That s what Miss Merriam is going to do," 
 he explained, " and Cissy "s grandma is sorry, too ; 
 [221]
 
 THE MADNESS OF PHILIP 
 
 it doesn t leave her any place for company but 
 the hall bedroom. But they ve got to have the 
 room, she s poses." 
 
 " That will do, Richard ! You are not to re 
 peat everything you hear. And I am afraid I 
 need the guest chamber. What should we do 
 when Aunt Nannie comes ? " 
 
 " Oh, Cissy could have her crib right in the 
 room. She wouldn t mind Aunt Nanny," he re 
 plied superbly. " She always sleeps in a crib, 
 and she always will. A bed scares her she s 
 afraid she ll fall out. I could sleep on the couch, 
 like Christmas time ! " 
 
 But in the manner of age the wide world over, 
 they merely urged him to wait. There was 
 plenty of time. Time ! and she might be living 
 in the house with them ! 
 
 It was that very night that he reached the top 
 of the wave, and justified the Little God s selec 
 tion. 
 
 He came down to breakfast rapt and quiet. 
 He salted his oatmeal by mistake and never knew 
 the difference. His sister laughed derisively, and 
 [222 ]
 
 THE L I T T I. K GOD AND DICKY 
 
 explained his folly to him as he swallowed the 
 last spoonful, but he only smiled kindly at her. 
 After his egg he spoke. 
 
 " I dreamed that it was dancing-school. And 
 I went. And I was the only fellow there. And 
 what do you think ? All the little girls were Ce 
 celia ! " 
 
 They gasped. 
 
 " You don t suppose hell be a poet, do you, 
 Ritch. ? Or a genius, or anything ? " his mother 
 inquired anxiously. 
 
 " Lord, no ! " his father returned. " I should 
 say he was more likely to be a Mormon ! " 
 
 Dick knew nothing of either class. But the 
 Little God knew very well what he was, and was 
 at that moment making out his diploma. 
 
 The End 
 
 r
 
 Conan 
 
 THE HOUND OF THE 
 BASKERVILLES 
 
 A Sherlock Holmes Novel 
 Illustrated by Sidney Paget 
 
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 The London Chronicle, in a review headed 
 
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 and construction to the earlier adventures of 
 the great detective. Dr. Doyle has provided a 
 criminal who, as Mr. Holmes admits, is indeed 
 a foeman worthy of his steel.* Hitherto he 
 has found it comparatively easy to unmask his 
 antagonists. But in the present case he finds 
 himself checkmated again and again. There is 
 pitted against him a skill nearly equal to his 
 own, and he wins the game almost by a hair." 
 
 * " I tell you, Watson, this time we have a foeman 
 who is worthy of our steel." Sherlock Holmes. 
 
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 His Adventures, West and East 
 
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 There is plenty of dash and adventure in 
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 The critics are all laughing, not at the book, 
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 A 000 671 176 6