LAST of We 
 KNICKERBOCKERS
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF 
 CALIFORNIA 
 
 SAN DIEGO
 
 ".G>. 
 
 2.! 3.3 1 <>i 
 
 HAROLD L.
 
 The LAST of t he 
 KNICKERBOCKERS
 
 The LAST of the 
 KNICKERBOCKERS 
 
 A COMEDY ROMANCE 
 
 BY 
 
 y 
 
 Herman Knickerbocker Viele 
 
 Author of The Inn of the 
 Silver Moon 
 
 1 GIVE MB FACES AND STREETS." 
 
 WALT WHITMAN 
 
 Herbert S. Stone 6c Company 
 
 Eldridge Court, Chicago 
 1901
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1901, BY 
 HERBERT S. STONE & CO.
 
 d 
 F. V. G. 
 
 fraternellement et confraternellment 
 H. K. V. 
 
 NARRAGANSETT PIER, 1901
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 I. SILHOUETTES - i 
 
 II. IN BORDERLAND 16 
 
 III. A DISH OF OLIVES 31 
 
 IV. AT THE TOP OF THE STAIRS 52 
 
 V. THE END OF A CENTURY 69 
 
 VI. REDDENS LAUDES DOMINO - 90 
 
 VII. THE YELLOW SLEIGH - - in 
 
 VIII. IN BOWERIE LANE - 128 
 
 IX. STERILIZED MILK - 142 
 
 X. THE BLACK SLEIGH - 153 
 
 XI. THE MARK OF THE DOLLAR - 165 
 
 XII. MUFFINS AND ALLIGATORS - 182 
 
 XIII. K. O. K. 197 
 
 XIV. A LITTLE LADLE 208 
 XV. FEEDING THE OCTOPUS - - 221 
 
 XVI. GREEN MINT 234 
 
 XVII. AN INSTRUCTION IN FITS - 248 
 
 XVIII. THE BURDEN OF NINEVEH - 261 
 
 XIX. MR. NOBODY OF NOWHERE - 279 
 
 XX. THE GENEROSITIES OF ANTHONY 299 
 
 XXI. AT THE TOMB OF A BISHOP 309 
 
 XXII. THE MARKET CLOSES STRONG 323 
 
 XXIII. THE LAST - - - 339
 
 The LAST of the 
 KNICKERBOCKERS 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 SILHOUETTES 
 
 The parlor windows of the Ruggles mansion 
 look out on Kenilworth Place across the railings 
 of an iron balcony, wherein the sinewy tentacles 
 of an old wistaria vine are interwoven and inter 
 laced. There is a street lamp directly in front 
 of the house, and often at dusk, before the shades 
 are drawn, a rectangle of yellow light is thrown 
 on either wall within, with the pattern of Notting 
 ham lace curtains, and the moving silhouettes of 
 leaves. Then, for a time, the long, high, shad 
 owy room takes on some measure of its ancient 
 dignity; for a time the heavy cornices and lofty 
 doors of red mahogany become once more sig 
 nificant of grace and beauty, which things, 
 expressed in hieroglyphics at the best, change 
 only in their symbols. 
 
 It is late afternoon and late November and in 
 Kenilworth Place a fine, cold rain driving from 
 Broadway foretells good luck for those who are 
 to dine at home. For already upon the balcony
 
 2 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 and the vine, and along the area railings, and on 
 the bare, black branches of the one ailanthus 
 tree the first fringes of winter icicles are begin 
 ning to form, and passers-by step gingerly or take 
 short, cautious slides. 
 
 Within, the squares of yellow light are bright 
 upon the walls, and the Nottingham lace patterns 
 well defined. Also a most unflattering pattern of 
 Miss Alida Van Wandeleer, who is at the window. 
 
 Alida is aware of the opening of a red mahog 
 any door, and rightly supposes her godmother to 
 have come into the parlor. She even fancies 
 herself aware of a sudden breath of the foggy 
 outdoor atmosphere entering at the same time, 
 and the faint suggestion of black dye, inseparably 
 associated in her mind with Miss Caroline De 
 Wint. But knowing her own conversational 
 chances to be small when her mother and Cousin 
 Caroline meet after several hours separation, she 
 does not leave her place behind the hanging cur 
 tains. Besides, Van Wandeleer traditions do 
 not encourage self-assertion in the young, and 
 Alida is proud of her reverence for tradition, 
 when at home. 
 
 "Josephine," began Miss De Wint, severely, 
 "why don t you ring for lights? This room is as 
 dark as a furniture-van, and as full of footstools. 
 One cannot take a step without kicking some 
 thing."
 
 Silhouettes 3 
 
 "Oh, Caroline," a voice rejoined irrelevantly, 
 a carefully modulated voice no less agreeable 
 because the R s were just a trifle indistinct, "I 
 have been trying to recall who Serena Laurens 
 was engaged to before she married Schepmoes. " 
 
 Mrs. Valentine Van Wandeleer reclined in a 
 low arm-chair before a high black marble mantel 
 piece, in whose depths the single eye of an expir 
 ing fire waxed dim and glassy. In profile against 
 the window her clear cut features beneath a stiff 
 diminutive widow s cap suggested the portrait, 
 in black paper, of somebody s great-grand 
 mother, taken on a silver wedding anniversary. 
 But from the ribbon collar downward to the tip 
 of a pointed slipper the outline was distinctly 
 modern, and the gesture employed to raise a 
 lorgnette to her eyes was as contemporaneous as 
 it was unnecessary. 
 
 "What put her in your head?" demanded Miss 
 De Wint, alluding to Serena. She had with little 
 difficulty found the massive sofa, drawn across 
 two folding doors also of red mahogany and 
 now sat tentatively thereupon, as one who has 
 not far to go sits in a public vehicle, her hands 
 thrust in a marten muff, from which protruded 
 several packages. 
 
 "Her daughter called this afternoon," ex 
 plained the lady of the chair. "Rather a pretty 
 girl, I thought, if her eyes were not so close
 
 4 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 together, but" Mrs. Van Wandeleer lowered 
 her voice discreetly "not at all the sort of girl 
 I should like Alida to see much of. It seems she 
 supports herself. How, heaven only knows! And 
 her mother is in a Home for Gentlewomen. 
 Fancy Serena in a Home for Gentlewomen!" 
 
 "I can t," responded Miss De Wint. "Who 
 else was here?" 
 
 "Lucy De Voe came early and stayed ever 
 so long." 
 
 "Poor, dear Lucy! I suppose she was, as 
 usual, most depressing. " 
 
 "Yes; she has gone to live in Brooklyn, and of 
 course Mrs. Van Wandeleer shook her head 
 and sighed, significantly. 
 
 "Yes, I suppose so." 
 
 "I only had a dollar, and that was in small 
 change." 
 
 "Poor, dear Lucy!" said Miss De Wint again; 
 "they used to be so comfortable before her father 
 died, and the Guardian and Trustee company 
 took charge of her affairs." 
 
 "Yes, she is like the rest of us, only worse 
 off," the other sighed, dejectedly. "Last quar- 
 terday she did not even get one-half of one per 
 cent. Some mortgage turned out badly, I be 
 lieve, and of course it happened to be hers. Next 
 time it may be yours or mine." 
 
 The passenger upon the sofa did not reply at
 
 Silhouettes 
 
 5 
 
 once, but stroked her marten muff reflectively. 
 Through an open register a Celtic voice ascended 
 from below in song, and with it came the faint 
 first fumes of soup. After a moment Miss De 
 VVint remarked: "I ve found a place where they 
 clean gloves for eight cents a pair." 
 
 It was a practice with Caroline De Wint to 
 dismiss unpleasant topics by an announcement 
 sufficiently startling for the purpose, and she 
 boasted of having cured seasickness with the 
 simple sentence, "Guess who s dead!" In an 
 extreme case of marital infelicity she had not 
 hesitated to kill the Bishop. 
 
 But the Van Wandeleer afternoon at home had 
 had its brighter moments, as presently appeared. 
 Mrs. Norris had called, and other of the below 
 Fourteenth Street colony. And Colonel Vander- 
 lyn, who told of his Long Island gold mine while 
 eating all the bread and butter sandwiches; and 
 old Doctor Roorda, who was most amusing, 
 though more disgracefully untidy than ever. 
 
 "And of course," concluded Mrs. Van Wande 
 leer, "there were a number of Alida s friends. 
 New people, whose names mean absolutely noth 
 ing, and frightfully overdressed." 
 
 "And young men?" inquired Alida s god 
 mother, with interest. 
 
 "Oh, dear no," replied Alida s mother; "new 
 young men have no time to call. They are in
 
 6 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 Wall Street, making deals and things. A pleas 
 ant outlook for their wives and children." 
 
 "When one thinks of the Guardian and Trustee 
 company, and the Home for Gentlewomen," 
 began Miss De Wint but even the pleasure of 
 differing with Josephine brought no warmth to a 
 defense of the new people. 
 
 Meanwhile Alida, impatient perhaps of pro 
 longed neglect, took up the burden of the register. 
 
 "There s always something doing 
 
 When O Malley s at the bat," 
 she hummed softly behind the curtains. 
 
 "Alida," said her mother, "do ring for Mary 
 to light the gas, she seems to have forgotten it." 
 
 "Mary is busy just at present," replied Alida, 
 meekly. 
 
 "How can you possibly know what she is 
 doing?" 
 
 "I saw the fishman go down the area steps five 
 minutes ago, and Mary is attentive to the fish 
 man. " 
 
 "Oh, my dear child!" protested Miss De Wint, 
 in tolerant reproof. 
 
 "I wish you would not notice her," the other 
 whispered; "she has been lunching with those 
 Brisbanes again, and I m sure they teach her 
 dreadful things." 
 
 "If they are not proper people for her to 
 know " began the godmother.
 
 Silhouettes 7 
 
 "Oh, no, I should not go as far as that," the 
 mother interrupted, hurriedly. 
 
 "Which burner shall I light, mother?" inquired 
 Alida, who had drawn an ottoman beneath the 
 chandelier and was prepared to mount upon it. 
 "The one that wheezes or the one that spits?" 
 
 "I told you to ring for the servant," replied 
 her mother, icily. 
 
 "Fudge!" said the lady on the sofa, with asper 
 ity, for it was a conviction with her, as old as 
 Alida herself, that only through an oversight had 
 Providence permitted motherhood to Josephine 
 Van Wandeleer. "Come here and sit beside me, 
 child, and tell me all about those Brisbane 
 people. How long have you known them, where 
 did you meet them, and who are they, any 
 how?" 
 
 Alida dutifully took the unoccupied end of the 
 long sofa. 
 
 "Oh, Bessie and I have been friends ever since 
 last spring," she said, "and I suppose that is 
 why her father and mother like me. You see 
 they have only lived here a few years and have 
 not many friends." 
 
 "They are tremendously rich," suggested Mrs. 
 Van Wandeleer, to supplement her daughter s 
 meager facts. 
 
 "Yes, mother, regular plutocrats, but not so 
 long ago he was just a country editor."
 
 8 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 "That was respectable at least," graciously 
 commented Miss De Wint. "And what was 
 she?" 
 
 "I think she was a Bean," replied Alida. 
 
 "A what?" 
 
 "A Bean," repeated Alida, with pronounced 
 composure, "or a Beed, I m not quite certain 
 which." 
 
 "It doesn t make much difference," sniffed 
 her godmother. "Did you have a pleasant lunch, 
 or did they begin with terrapin, and shriek like 
 locomotives?" 
 
 "No, it was just like any other lunch I 
 helped to order it; but I should have liked it 
 better if every one had not spent the summer 
 abroad and taken it for granted that everybody 
 else went over every year." 
 
 "To think of it," sighed Miss De Wint. 
 "Why, Josephine, when we were girls, Europe 
 was the finishing touch to one s education. 
 Then children were prepared for travel as they 
 were for confirmation, and I m sure it did them 
 much more good." 
 
 "Oh, Cousin Caroline!" protested Alida, un 
 justly scenting sacrilege, but her sponsor went 
 on unheeding. 
 
 "Before I went abroad with papa and mama 
 we spoke French at table for six months. Just 
 for the literature, of course ; nice girls never so
 
 Silhouettes 9 
 
 much as looked at foreigners. Dear papa disliked 
 them all, and used to speak of Burke as the 
 Beerage. I wonder what he would have called 
 the exotics in society to-day." 
 
 "Why, the Steerage, I suppose," suggested 
 Alida. For this she was rewarded with an ap 
 proving pat, and the appearance of Mary entering 
 with belated energy, made further conversation 
 for the moment unadvisable. 
 
 "Murder!" exclaimed that menial in the dark 
 ness. But it was a fashion of speech rather than 
 a note of alarm, and betokened nothing worse 
 than sudden contact with the misplaced ottoman. 
 
 "Do try to be more quiet," admonished Mrs. 
 Van Wandeleer. 
 
 "Sure you d holler yourself if it was your leg. " 
 
 "Please light the gas and go away at once." 
 
 "Faith, I ll not intrude me company where it s 
 not wanted," returned the handmaiden, and the 
 closing door announced her words to be no empty 
 vaunt. 
 
 "Oh, this is too humiliating!" cried Mrs. Van 
 Wandeleer, erect and tremulous. "Caroline, I 
 do not feel that I can remain in this wretched 
 house another day." 
 
 "Josephine, you are a fool," said Miss De 
 Wint, as one who recalls a truism. "You speak 
 to other people s servants as though they were 
 your own and you had a hundred. You forget
 
 io The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 that things are not with any of us as they used 
 to be." 
 
 "I hope I shall never forget my position, or 
 what is due to it." 
 
 "Fudge!" 
 
 "You may remain here if you like." 
 
 "I shall," said Miss De Wint, "and so will 
 you. I have no doubt Bella Ruggles will, if you 
 ask it, dismiss Ann at once." 
 
 "Mary," corrected Alida. 
 
 "How long since?" inquired Cousin Caro 
 line. 
 
 "Monday, I think." 
 
 "If Bella Ruggles had one atom of dignity her 
 servants would not be so uniformly careless and 
 impertinent," lamented Mrs. Van Wandeleer. 
 
 "Poor Bella," Miss De Wint rejoined; "if she 
 had had an atom of common sense when Ruggles 
 offered himself she would not to-day be keeping 
 a boarding-house, and we should, I suppose, be 
 living " 
 
 "At Italian tables d hote," put in Alida, see 
 ing her sponsor hesitate upon the brink of degra 
 dation, "like the Cafe Chianti, in grandfather s 
 old house, where they have music and charge 
 only fifty cents, including wine." 
 
 Cousin Caroline stroked her muff in silence, 
 and Mrs. Van Wandeleer, leaning forward, poked 
 the fire, which promptly yielded up the ghost.
 
 Silhouettes 1 1 
 
 Clearly the suggestion had not been a happy one, 
 and Alida, with a view to mending matters, 
 waited awhile before inquiring, thoughtfully: 
 "Mother, how many of our ancestors are buried 
 in St. Mark s?" 
 
 "Four," replied her mother, sadly. 
 
 "Six," corrected Miss De Wint. "The first 
 De Wint there was Peterus, you know." 
 
 "We should not count him, Caroline; we are 
 not at all sure that grave is really his." 
 
 "Then whose else could it possibly be?" de 
 manded Miss De Wint, which argument, being 
 unanswerable, was to her mind conclusive, and 
 Peterus, dead two centuries and more, became a 
 living issue. 
 
 In life he had been a mighty miller and braved 
 the wilds of Union Square till the Indians burned 
 his mill and laid waste his bowerie the proto 
 type of a line of windmill builders whose works 
 were ashes. 
 
 Alida privately held more with the Van Wan- 
 deleers, one Valentine in particular, Justice and 
 Farmer of Taxes, who owned an interest in the 
 good ship Golden Ox, but she found it policy to 
 burn her joss sticks on the graves of the De 
 Wints. 
 
 "Isn t it odd we have so few relations," she 
 remarked, as the conversation grew securely 
 genealogical, "when the directory is teeming
 
 12 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 with us? undertakers, stevedores, ministers, and 
 salt fish." 
 
 "Many of the early settlers had good reason 
 to change their names," explained her god 
 mother, "and naturally they chose distinguished 
 ones. The laws about such things were rather 
 lax." 
 
 "Yes, of course," Aiida assented, but the tone 
 betrayed uneasiness. For discussion headed 
 now directly toward the vaults of Tiffany s 
 where lay the Tankard and the Spoon, heirlooms 
 whose final disposition was ever a source of anxi 
 ety to Cousin Caroline. 
 
 "I m going to light the gas," she suddenly 
 announced, "and show you my new dress." 
 
 When the first jet from hissing like an adder, 
 had been calmed into reluctant service, Alida 
 lighted another and another, till the circle was 
 complete and hung above her head a luster of 
 pendant incandescent prisms, vibrating gently 
 and giving out faint tinkling notes. About the 
 ancient drawing-room a thousand shabbinesses, 
 invisible by day, became apparent; dull, pattern- 
 less places on the flowered carpet; frayed edges 
 on the red rep furniture; stains on the ceiling, 
 and on the ponderous frames of family por 
 traits the scars of many mendings. In the midst 
 of it Alida, standing on the ottoman, posed 
 openly.
 
 Silhouettes 13 
 
 "Dear me, child," cried Miss De Wint, "how 
 well you look!" 
 
 The effect had not been badly managed, but 
 Alida needed neither contrast nor the accidents 
 of rich attire. At twenty she asked nothing of 
 the universe but light. Youth and health she 
 had, and an abounding love of life; and for the 
 rest some dozen master strokes of line, that 
 nature knows so well and guards so meanly, have 
 made her what she is. Those who have called 
 her more than pretty have had her hair in mind; 
 and as she stands now against the red mahogany 
 of the door, this melts into its background as 
 though a brush had drawn the tones together. 
 Only the small unruly cowlick on her forehead 
 mercifully saves it from being beautiful. 
 
 Alida, neither tall nor short, nor dark nor fair, 
 has yet the gift, intangible as beauty, of putting 
 those who vary from her standard at a disadvan 
 tage. Also another gift, intangible as truth; the 
 aura which is the heritage of women born between 
 the Three Rivers. One meeting her anywhere 
 upon the planet would say at once, New York. 
 The carriage of her head would be enough her 
 step the buttoning of a glove to bring before 
 the eyes some reach of sunny avenue; an arch, 
 blue in the distance; twin spires, rosy in the sun; 
 the red brick fabric of a newer Babel, laughing 
 at tradition, daring art to follow. And such a
 
 14 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 one, if blessed with the sublime provincialism that 
 marks the metropolitan, must feel a slight con 
 traction in the throat. 
 
 The dress, in color that of faded oak leaves, 
 with touches here and there of turquoise blue 
 and silver, was in its way a marvel, breathing the 
 latest cry of fashion, even the cry half formed 
 upon the lips of fashion. It had arrived that 
 morning in time for Bessie Brisbane s luncheon. 
 Madame Bazet had had it thrown upon her hands, 
 and begged Miss Van Wandeleer to accept it as 
 a token of esteem, and in memory of Felise, who 
 had done her mother s hair when dinners in her 
 grandfather s old house might not be had for fifty 
 cents. Perhaps, if any one should chance to ask, 
 Miss Van Wandeleer would not withhold the 
 maker s name mats ce nest pas de quoi, chtre 
 mademoiselle. It was through such ventures that 
 the worthy Gaul acquired real estate in the 
 Borough of the Bronx. 
 
 Alida s dress is paid for ten times over, 
 but she does not know it. Neither does she 
 know that at the Brisbane luncheon she set 
 afloat a ship of dire bewilderment for Arnold s 
 clerks. 
 
 "What shade is that, my dear?" her hostess 
 had called across the table; and Alida, taking 
 little thought, replied, "Oh, I should call it 
 candle-moth."
 
 Silhouettes 1 5 
 
 "Of course," replied the other, and there 
 arose twelve who called it "candle-moth. " 
 
 "You had better take it off," said Cousin Caro 
 line, when the exhibition was at an end. "It 
 must be nearly dinner time." 
 
 "Oh, I shall keep it on for dinner," Alida 
 answered, lightly. "It will annoy Mrs. Van 
 Gaasbeck so, especially if her son should speak 
 to me by any chance." 
 
 "But those stupid servants so often forget that 
 gravy is a liquid," began Mrs. Van Wandeleer, 
 feebly. 
 
 "Josephine, my dear, why can t you let the 
 poor child have a little pleasure?" demanded 
 Cousin Caroline, who had been about to raise a 
 like objection. "I m going up to dress, and 
 unless you mean to wear your best cap in honor 
 of Grace Van Gaasbeck, I suggest that you come, 
 too." 
 
 "Alida," said Mrs. Van Wandeleer, as she left 
 the room, "if I have dropped anything, please 
 pick it up."
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 IN BORDERLAND 
 
 Alida, alone with the Ruggles family portraits, 
 looked about her and found their company dis 
 tinctly dull. Above the square, fat-legged piano 
 Chancellor De Vos, who had in life been Mrs. 
 Ruggles s honored sire, held a dull book half 
 open, threateningly; over the chimney-piece a 
 Lady with a Rose, attributed to Sully, pleaded 
 for varnish. Elsewhere, sundry gentlemen in 
 stocks appeared to strangle, and in the single 
 landscape of the Hudson River School, the sloops 
 lay hopelessly becalmed. In the Brisbane house 
 on Park Avenue there were electric lights and 
 flowers and pictures that laughed and said amus 
 ing things. But not for a moment did it occur 
 to Miss Van Wandeleer that Bessie could be 
 envied. 
 
 By and by, after dinner, the Ruggles parlor 
 would be duller still. Then seven elderly ladies, 
 each on her own pre-empted claim of faded rep, 
 would crochet and count stitches, and recall 
 enchanting evenings glorified by time. And 
 when the prismatic chandelier had done its work 
 of partial asphyxiation they would yawn dis- 
 16 *
 
 In Borderland 17 
 
 erectly and go off reminiscently to bed. Then 
 Alida, who had refused a seat in Mrs. Norris s 
 box because she accepted but one in three of 
 Mrs. Norris s invitations, would also go to bed, 
 at half-past ten. Bessie Brisbane, at that hour, 
 would have but to rub one of her many rings and 
 almost anything might happen. But not for all 
 the rings between the Marble Arch and Murray 
 Hill would Miss Van Wandeleer admit her lot in 
 life the less desirable. 
 
 Outside the window the freezing rain still fell. 
 But now the sidewalks were undulating with 
 umbrellas and noisy with clamor of many tongues 
 let loose. For it was quitting time in the work 
 shops, and in the streets beginning time, and to 
 a million the morning of a little day of conscious 
 individuality. Alida always watched this ebb 
 draw out to east and west with a healthy, human 
 curiosity, and sometimes with an interest that 
 grew intensely personal. Between her and the 
 great procession there was each evening but the 
 thickness of a plate of glass; between her and it 
 on quarterdays, one-half of one per cent. And 
 sometime it might stretch a pace to make room 
 for her. She had no misgivings that Manhattan 
 could refuse the Van Wandeleers a share of 
 marketable beaver skins should they require it; 
 and besides the people in the street did not 
 appear unhappy.
 
 1 8 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 Opposite a girl clinging to a railing shrieked 
 in simulated terror while another urged her on to 
 feats of daring on the icy flags. Then two young 
 men stood still to offer counsel and advice. 
 When presently the four went laughing on their 
 way together, Alida pressed her nose against the 
 pane to watch them out of sight. A boy with 
 evening papers wrapped in black tarpaulin did 
 a thriving trade, and between transactions took 
 large bites from a pie. A man climbed the lamp 
 post to light a cigarette. 
 
 Now and then some scrap of conversation 
 became distinct, indifferent jokes about the 
 weather. 
 
 "I m going down to Coney Island." "Ain t 
 you afraid of mosquitos?" Admonitions to walk 
 faster. "Hurry up!" "Come along!" Hurry 
 for what? Come along where? No matter; 
 hurry! Come! Under the rain and sleet and 
 the ceaseless countermarch of black umbrellas 
 beat the brave heart of the city; and Alida, 
 with the sense of living at the source that is the 
 burgher s birthright, felt the thrill of it, its great 
 imperishable hope, its infinity of possibility. 
 
 Turning from the window she went to the 
 piano, fat-legged and square, beneath the por 
 trait of Chancellor De Vos. The keys were 
 yellow that had once been white, and of the black 
 more than one remained permanently down as
 
 In Borderland 19 
 
 though the ghost of an old-time mazurka lingered. 
 As she drew her finger across the board the 
 sound was not unlike that of a harp, not by any 
 means a well-tuned harp, but sound is only un 
 trained music, and music only harnessed sound ; 
 and both are better company than silence when 
 one is young. Alida gave the stool a twist. 
 
 " There s always something doing 
 When O Malley s at the bat," 
 
 she sang softly, though with spirit. 
 
 Her music, which came by nature as she said, 
 made up in naive audacity for many technical 
 defects, and the song was in a way a reflex of the 
 crowded sidewalk, and in a way a protest against 
 Chancellor De Vos. 
 
 After O Malley came a Coon song, an idyl of 
 Sullivan Street and Seventh Avenue, of razors 
 and ragtime, and staccato imitations of the banjo. 
 Though the humor that impelled it was of short 
 duration there had been time while the selection 
 lasted so Alida reflected later for any number 
 of persons to have come into the room unheeded. 
 
 "Oh li l lamb out in de col , 
 De Mastah call you to de fol . 
 O li l lamb!" 
 
 Alida sang now almost inaudibly, for she was 
 singing to herself, as a child sings to itself or to 
 a doll.
 
 2o The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 " O Shepud I s a-comin quick 
 O li l lamb!" 
 
 When the song was ended she played the re 
 frain again and once again more softly, pretend 
 ing, with one small bronze foot upon the pedal 
 of the old piano, that some dusky singer passed 
 slowly out of hearing, passed out of sight through 
 cypress alleys where moss hung trailing over 
 head ; across a bridge and on toward the quarters. 
 
 "O li l lamb!" 
 
 Then presently some words came to her that 
 she had found in the corner of a Sunday paper 
 and set to an odd accompaniment of her own 
 invention. A critic would have found little to 
 commend in either verse or music, but happily 
 one does not always sing for critics. 
 
 " And have you been to Borderland? 
 
 Its country lies on either hand 
 Across the river I-forget. 
 
 One crosses by a single stone, 
 
 So narrow one must cross alone, 
 And all around its waters fret, 
 The laughing river, I-forget. 
 
 " Beneath the trees of Borderland, 
 One seems to know and understand, 
 
 Across the river I-forget, 
 All languages of men and birds, 
 And all the sweet, unspoken words 
 
 One ever missed are murmured yet 
 
 By that kind river, I-forget.
 
 In Borderland 21 
 
 " Some day together, hand in hand, 
 I ll take you there to Borderland, 
 
 Beyond the river I-forget. 
 Some day, when all our dreams come true 
 One kiss for me and one for you 
 
 We ll watch the red suns sink and set 
 
 Across the river I-forget." 
 
 Somewhere in the last line Alida became con 
 scious of a pair of eyes regarding the back of her 
 head. But there is a doubt as to whether this 
 occult perception followed or came after a slight 
 cough from the direction of the sofa, so nearly 
 did the two occur together. 
 
 Alida waited for the first cold chill of surprise, 
 annoyance, and chagrin to pass, then turning 
 slowly upon the piano stool, composed herself to 
 encounter any presence whatsoever, from the 
 shade of Chancellor De Vos to the actuality of a 
 misplaced telegraph boy. 
 
 But that which she encountered was naturally 
 the thing for which she had been least prepared ; 
 a man; a stranger; apparently young, undoubt 
 edly good looking, and presumably in the flesh, 
 though for the moment he made no effort to estab 
 lish the fact. In a corner of the red rep sofa he 
 had the air of one who had discovered its possi 
 bilities for comfort, but the shoulders of a long 
 grey overcoat still glistened with the outdoor 
 wet, as did also a soft felt hat upon his knees. 
 His trousers were turned up at the bottoms, and
 
 22 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 his boots, which were bright considering the 
 weather, had noticeably heavy soles. Further, 
 without directly looking, Alida gathered an im 
 pression of dark hair cut shorter than prevailing 
 taste demanded, and a loosely tied cravat that 
 might have distressed an observant sister. 
 
 It was probably a matter of seconds that they 
 sat thus facing one another, but it seemed much 
 longer. -The gas buzzed pertinaciously, and gave 
 forth intermittent flares and squeaks; somewhere 
 upstairs a door was slammed; outside the paper 
 boy proclaimed a doubtful extra. 
 . "Oh, I beg your pardon," spoke the young 
 man, rising, as he appeared to remember sud 
 denly that an explanation on his part might 
 reasonably be expected, "but but you are not 
 Miss Caroline De Wint?" 
 
 "No," replied Alida, with much dignity, "I 
 am not. Do you want to see Miss De Wint?" 
 
 "I am not quite sure," he answered, and the 
 uncertainty seemed odd in one who must have 
 given himself some trouble to come at all. 
 
 "Does Cousin Caroline know you are here?" 
 Alida asked, which was, of course, a stupid mis 
 take, and one she was glad the stranger did not 
 notice. 
 
 "I m not sure, but I scarcely think so," he 
 replied. "The servant ushered me in here, and 
 then I am afraid she fell down a flight of stairs. "
 
 In Borderland 23 
 
 "How long ago was that?" she asked him, 
 coldly. 
 
 "Oh, just a minute," he assured her, but she 
 knew his sense of time must be inaccurate; and 
 it was a relief to have him add simply, "You 
 were finishing something when I came in, and 
 then you sang that song by Dunbar, and then 
 another I have never heard before." 
 
 He spoke without affectation, as one conscious 
 of no embarrassment in a situation for which 
 neither could be held responsible; and Alida, 
 whose good opinion of her own judgment was 
 unfaltering, decided that it would be the part of 
 dignity not to leave the room at once. Though 
 the stranger apparently stood not at all in awe of 
 her, there had been nothing so far in his manner 
 to justify an abrupt withdrawal. His desire to 
 set himself right before going further was imper 
 sonal, open, and undisguised, and his unspoken 
 appeal to her generosity might have been directed 
 to Cousin Caroline herself, though possibly with 
 less success. 
 
 "The last was not by any one in particular," 
 said Miss Van Wandeleer, composedly, and rising 
 without undue haste she took a step toward the 
 door. "I will tell Miss De Wint that you are 
 here," she added; "she is dressing for dinner 
 and will be coming down directly." 
 
 The gentleman inclined his head.
 
 24 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 "Thank you," he said. "I had forgotten that 
 it might be dinner-time." 
 
 "Yes, we dine rather early," said Alida, with 
 the fatal fondness of the young for imparting 
 information, "on account of one lady who is very 
 old." 
 
 "In that case, perhaps I had better call 
 again." 
 
 "Oh no, it can t be later now than six, and 
 Miss De Wint would be so sorry " 
 
 As Alida left the meaningless formula unfin 
 ished he rejoined, "I m not so sure of that; in 
 fact I m not sure at all that she is the Miss De 
 Wint I am looking for. You see I only happened 
 to find her name on a pamphlet as the secretary 
 for some charity." 
 
 "Yes, she is secretary for ever so many chari 
 ties." 
 
 "This one was, I think, a society for the aid 
 of escaped convicts." 
 
 Alida has been accused of receiving this intelli 
 gence with a cry of apprehension and alarm. 
 What she said in truth was only, "That society 
 is for the aid of released convicts"; making the 
 correction with too slight an emphasis to excuse 
 what followed. 
 
 "Oh, really!" he protested, in accents of dis 
 tress, then looking straight into her eyes he 
 laughed laughed openly and frankly, laughed
 
 In Borderland 25 
 
 as no one has a right to laugh except on old 
 acquaintance. And Alida well, she was twenty 
 and he was twenty-five. And there are moments 
 when the innate folly of the race forgets its 
 centuries of repression; when the old, mad, irre 
 sponsible cave man breaks out to caper and leap 
 again. 
 
 "But it was funny, wasn t it?" he said, becom 
 ing suddenly grave. 
 
 "I do not think so in the least," she answered, 
 blushing furiously, and contending with a nerv 
 ous inclination to laugh again. But the other 
 came to her assistance. 
 
 "Would you mind telling me if Miss De Wint 
 is what one might call fierce?" he asked, with a 
 startling irrelevance worthy of Cousin Caroline 
 herself. 
 
 "Fierce?" 
 
 "Yes, unapproachable I mean. I want to ask 
 her about some one she may have known long 
 ago. Do you think she would mind telling me?" 
 
 "Not in the least, if she had liked the person, 
 and very much if she had not," replied Alida, 
 frankly. 
 
 "This person may have been a near relation," 
 he was beginning to explain, when Alida inter 
 rupted. 
 
 "I should not advise you even to hint at that," 
 she said, with friendly warning. "Cousin Caro-
 
 26 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 line has never had a relative except my mother 
 and myself. " 
 
 "You are quite sure of that, of course," he 
 ventured, doubtfully. 
 
 "Oh yes, I know all about our family." 
 
 "Perhaps she may have been only a school 
 friend," he speculated, partly to himself. 
 
 "At Fulham Priory?" Alida asked, becoming 
 interested. 
 
 "Is that a school?" he asked in turn. 
 
 "It used to be," she answered, "but it burned 
 down long ago." In dismissing Cousin Caroline 
 as a promising source of information, she real 
 ized now that she had assumed certain responsi 
 bilities, and accepted them. 
 
 "Won t you sit down?" she said, with dignity; 
 "and please don t take that little chair, it s not 
 reliable." 
 
 As they once more faced each other from piano 
 stool and sofa she told him that Fulham Priory 
 had been the only school attended by Caroline 
 De Wint, and he performed some feat of mental 
 arithmetic regarding dates. 
 
 "They don t come out at all," he said, with 
 disappointment. "I must be upon the wrong 
 track altogether. It is very kind of you to tell 
 me this. I must have bored you frightfully." 
 
 "I am afraid I have not helped you very 
 much," she said.
 
 In Borderland 27 
 
 "No," he assented, "everything I want to 
 know about happened before you were born. 
 There are a thousand people who could tell me 
 in a dozen words, but the trouble is I don t know 
 where to find them. You are the only person I 
 have spoken- to in New York, except the clerk at 
 the Holland House, and he was most official." 
 
 The pause that followed might have been em 
 barrassing had not his eyes continued to include 
 her in the puzzle, and when he spoke again it 
 was with a distinct advance toward confidence. 
 
 "You remarked just now," he said, "that you 
 knew all about your family. Now I know noth 
 ing about mine except that I had a grandfather, 
 with whom I quarreled ten years ago because he 
 would not tell me my own name." 
 
 "Really!" cried Alida, opening wide her eyes 
 at this unheard of state of things. 
 
 The visitor nodded an affirmation. "That s 
 about the size of it," he said. 
 
 "And you thought Cousin Caroline could help 
 you?" 
 
 "Yes, I thought there was a chance. I used 
 to study from an old school book in which the 
 name of Caroline De Wint was scribbled on a 
 fly-leaf. I have not even got the book any 
 longer, but there may have been some connec 
 tion. I thought she might remember losing a 
 geography."
 
 28 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 "But surely you could ask her that!" 
 
 "Yes," he assented, seriously, "but to tell the 
 truth you have made me a little afraid of Miss 
 De Wint. Perhaps she valued the geography, 
 you know, and I am in no position to defend our 
 title to it." 
 
 "I am sure my cousin would be very willing to 
 tell you everything she knows," returned Alida, 
 a trifle uneasily it must be admitted, for the 
 problem of making the interview convincing to 
 her elders was beginning to obtrude itself. The 
 visitor, detecting the note, rose instantly to his 
 feet. 
 
 "I hope you will not think it very strange," 
 he said, "if I defer my call on Miss De Wint. 
 You know one pictures things so differently from 
 the reality." 
 
 Alida did not answer, but her face looking up 
 to him expressed a faint interrogation. What 
 ever the "everything" he had pictured might 
 mean, she was conscious of being herself the 
 reality, and the role was not a wholly novel 
 one. 
 
 "I have no right to impose on you a moment 
 longer," he went on, "but I should hate to be 
 considered a mysterious idiot. Please ask me 
 anything that occurs to you even the name of 
 my asylum." 
 
 "I should like to know just who you expected
 
 In Borderland 29 
 
 to find here," she replied, with a little laugh, 
 which he was quick to answer as he said: 
 
 "Oh, I had fancied a nice little old lady with a 
 cat or so, and I planned to make friends with the 
 cats, and hoodwink their mistress with a small sub 
 scription for the convicts. I was not prepared 
 to bring up suddenly against a social system." 
 
 "Indeed!" returned the social system, non- 
 committally. 
 
 "Yes," he continued, looking at her steadily, 
 "in spite of undeserved consideration, I find I 
 have got hold of the wrong end of the string. 
 One can t start in New York as one would in Oro 
 City." 
 
 "And where is Oro City?" asked Alida. "I 
 don t know much about geography." 
 
 "Oro is somewhere in the Rocky Mountains," 
 he replied, instructively. "Its leading product 
 is gold-bearing quartz which is shipped else 
 where to be refined." 
 
 "How very interesting," said Alida. 
 
 "Very," he assented, "especially for the 
 quartz. It needs only a little crushing and a 
 little beating to become quite presentable. Per 
 haps you will kindly say to Miss De Wint that I 
 shall do myself the honor of calling later." 
 
 "Yes, I will tell her," said Alida; "and shall 
 I say when she may expect you?" 
 
 "I am afraid it will not be very soon," he an-
 
 jo The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 swered, gravely; "the honor of my family is 
 involved in that geography, but I have first to 
 find the family. You will agree with me, I 
 know, that family is the one element most essen 
 tial. " 
 
 "It is an element that many people do very 
 well without," she returned, with spirit, for she 
 suspected him of making fun of her. 
 
 "Oh yes, in Oro," he rejoined; "but Oro is 
 two thousand miles from here." 
 
 Before Alida could reply, almost before she 
 was aware of what she did, he had held out his 
 hand and she had given him hers. 
 
 "Good night," he said, retaining it an imper 
 ceptible moment, "good night, and thank you 
 for your very great kindness in not calling the 
 police." 
 
 When he turned at the threshold she was sit 
 ting with her eyes upon the yellow keys, and she 
 did not raise them till the red mahogany door 
 had closed and after it the outer door, more 
 heavily, so heavily as to send a tinkling tremor 
 through the prismatic chandelier.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 A DISH OF OLIVES 
 
 The evening meal in the household of Ruggles 
 was piously held by those admitted to its privi 
 leges to differ from the travesty of dinner com 
 monly associated with weekly payment, and to 
 maintain, in point of company at least, the honor 
 able traditions of Chancellor De Vos s mahogany. 
 
 In the dining-room, red flock paper, paneled 
 with strips of gilded moulding, made a pleasant 
 background ; the rigid hangings were of the same 
 cheerful hue, and opposing mirrors multiplied the 
 candles to infinity. The frescoed ceiling symbol 
 ized the seasons; the mantel, night and morning 
 in Carrara. A lion of Lucerne died on a yellow 
 marble clock between two men at arms who carried 
 gas jets, and above the Sheffield domes upon the 
 sideboard hung the seductive portrait of a melon. 
 But for a stain or so suggesting water pipes, one 
 might have fancied one s self back in the old, for 
 gotten city that shouted for Kossuth and built a 
 monument to General Worth. 
 
 At one end of the long table Bella herself pre 
 sided; her white hair rolled high in the manner 
 of Mrs. Judge Van Horn of blessed memory; 
 31
 
 32 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 her dark, bright eyes alert with hospitable solici 
 tude, and her weak lips parted for whatever 
 platitude occasion might demand. From time to 
 time she raised a plump, white hand in signal to 
 Mary in violent action and an aged colored man 
 cruising upon the offing, or again sent wireless 
 messages to Mr. Bella Ruggles, who facing her 
 peered timidly from behind a soup tureen or 
 roast or other savory barricade. Between the 
 host and hostess ranged the ten of fortune s 
 favorites who shared the feast. 
 
 It was the moment between courses when 
 olives assume importance, and Mrs. Ruggles, 
 selecting for herself the least attractive fruit, 
 dispatched the heavy little silver dish upon its 
 circuit. 
 
 "Mr. Volkert, may I offer you an olive?" she 
 inquired, persuasively and Mr. Volkert helped 
 himself to three. 
 
 He was a young gentleman whose deep set 
 eyes, high forehead, and smoothly shaven face 
 gave promise of so much greater interest than it 
 was in their owner s power to fulfill that he had 
 wisely, or unwisely, abandoned the attempt. 
 Contenting himself wilh externals he wore broad 
 collars and loose cravats, which told against him 
 in the offices of Barrows, Clatworthy & Sill, 
 wherein he was believed to study law; and he 
 sometimes practiced on the flute, in privacy if not
 
 A Dish of Olives 33 
 
 in secret. Edward Volkert owed his present 
 honorable seat to conversational tendencies occa 
 sionally calling for repression, and at twenty-one 
 he found this a distinction. 
 
 Beyond him "What! olives? Thank you, 
 no" sat his grandmother the repression was 
 complete a lady of great size and defective 
 hearing, who was also "Grandma Epps," by 
 courtesy, to all her friends. 
 
 Next in order came Alida, to-night a candle- 
 moth among worthy beetles ; and then her mother, 
 and Miss Caroline De Wint. This brought the 
 olive dish to Mr. Ruggles, who hastily sent it 
 upon its homeward way by grace of Bella Junior 
 at his right. 
 
 Bella Junior, or Bell, sole daughter of the 
 house, performed the service grudgingly, and with 
 an expression of aggressive discontent which 
 often marred her really pretty face. She had 
 refrained from olives, though regarding them 
 with no distaste, and added thereby another to 
 her tale of wrongs. 
 
 Bell s leading grievance was the boarding- 
 house, to which her calculations gave a rental 
 value that might well suffice for three in inde 
 pendence somewhere out of town. And knowing 
 nothing of mortgages this wrong beset her night 
 and day, making her almost plain and spiteful 
 before her time. Though she and Alida Van
 
 34 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 Wandeleer had been classmates at Madame 
 Brown s, Bell looked already several years the 
 senior. 
 
 "Miss Deusenbury, do you care for these 
 things?" she asked, disparagingly. 
 
 "They look delightful," replied her neighbor, 
 who was courtesy itself. 
 
 Everybody knows who the Deusenburys are. 
 Miss Hannah was of the less prominent River 
 branch, but she had been a beauty, and when the 
 Prince danced twice with her at that wonderful 
 old Academy ball, people said all sorts of amus 
 ing things. But beauty and princes and the 
 things they bring were shadowy now to the mis 
 tress of belles-lettres, and out of the Ciass-room 
 her talk was of Henry Esmond, though her 
 dreams may still have been of Vanity Fair. 
 
 Beside the teacher was her friend Miss Toll, 
 who on Sundays wrought mightily at Faith Church 
 mission, and occupied the secular hours in filling 
 out little cards and sorting little packages. Her 
 knowledge of the clergy list was truly remark 
 able, and she rarely went abroad without coming 
 back in some one s else carriage. 
 
 Two guests remain and the olive will have 
 served its peaceful purpose Mrs. Bruyn Van 
 Gaasbeck and her son, the doctor. 
 
 To know Mrs. Van Gaasbeck was to be 
 aware that she had tasted sorrow, though to look
 
 A Dish of Olives 35 
 
 upon her only, the thought might not at once 
 occur. But one could not be long in her com 
 pany the doctor being absent without an ink 
 ling of her story. The late Bruyn, who had been 
 a bear, and synonymously, a beast and brute, 
 had for years kept the eyes of society upon suc 
 cessive antics until his final exit with a shameless 
 leading lady. There were details for a shelf of 
 novels between the wedding at Old St. Thomas 
 and the sailing of the Bothnia, but the tale, grown 
 hard by endless repetitions, evoked tears no 
 longer, and the woman who had coined her heart 
 in phrases no longer looked for them. Tall, 
 erect, and stately, her toilets were the admira 
 tion of the table, and if behind her back unkind 
 things were whispered, there was always some one 
 to say, "But at least she is devoted to her son." 
 Providence had given Doctor Van Gaasbeck, 
 as a protection doubtless against leading ladies, 
 an abnormally large head, thin reddish hair, and 
 a white skin enlivened by many freckles, but his 
 smile was that of an apostle, and those who took 
 the trouble to listen to his infrequent words 
 found them direct and to the point. Further he 
 had two distinguishing characteristics a pair of 
 very thick eyeglasses which at certain angles mag 
 nified his eyes to a startling size, and secondly, 
 the faint though unmistakable smell of iodoform, 
 in which disinfectant he had an abiding faith.
 
 36 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 Unlike the other guests the doctor did not 
 sleep in the house, but occupied a transmutable 
 sofa in his office, the reception-room of an Eng 
 lish basement, a few blocks farther north. There 
 Richard Van Gaasbeck passed all of his days and 
 all of his evenings, and there, his repute for 
 financial leniency being even greater than his 
 renown for skill, he received a numerically flat 
 tering stream of patients. 
 
 This arrangement of the table, though it might 
 seem to give the hostess an undue share of male 
 society, had not been reached without much care 
 ful thought and successive changes, all tending 
 to remove Mrs. Van Gaasbeck from draughts, to 
 which she was highly sensitive, and her son from 
 the proximity of the younger women, to whom 
 he appeared ungallantly indifferent. 
 
 It was early in the repast, and conversation 
 flitting fitfully from theme to theme, poised for a 
 moment doubtful where to light. The pause was 
 any one s for the asking, and Mr. Volkert took 
 it. 
 
 "Hello Central!" he remarked, rather louder 
 than was necessary, bending forward to catch 
 Alida s eye across his kinswoman s ample breast; 
 "how are things up your way?" 
 
 She had known Edward Volkert all her life, 
 she had been engaged to him at ten, but she had 
 outgrown him long ago.
 
 A Dish of Olives 37 
 
 "I am very well, thank you," replied Central, 
 nodding tolerantly back. 
 
 "I ve got a conundrum for you," he continued, 
 if anything a trifle louder. "Why is Hoboken 
 like Italy?" 
 
 "Edward!" said Grandma Epps, severely, "I 
 must insist upon your keeping your head out of 
 my plate. " 
 
 "Hoboken like Italy? How very droll!" mur 
 mured Miss Toll, whose heart was ever with the 
 snubbed. 
 
 "Indeed the thought has often occurred to me 
 that there is something quite Italian in the Jer 
 sey shore," observed Miss Deusenbury, in her 
 even, class-room voice. "And when on some 
 misty autumn evening the sun goes down behind 
 the dome of that great Passionist church " 
 
 "That s not the answer," chuckled Mr. Vol- 
 kert, gleefully. 
 
 "Edward, be silent!" commanded Grandma 
 Epps. 
 
 "My son tells me that the Allan-Youngs new 
 house is simply gorgeous," announced Mrs. Van 
 Gaasbeck, in a tone to compel attention. "He 
 was there this afternoon, professionally." 
 
 "Indeed!" remarked Mrs. Van Wandeleer, 
 fixing the speaker with suspicious eyes. "I 
 fancied the Allan-Youngs were still abroad." 
 
 "They are," the doctor answered, hurriedly.
 
 3 8 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 "It was the butler I was called to see. He ran a 
 splinter in his thumb." 
 
 "Ah, really!" commented Mrs. Van Wande- 
 leer, with a smile of satisfaction. 
 
 "But is not the house indeed like fairy-land?" 
 exclaimed Miss Toll, throwing herself with tact 
 into the breach. 
 
 "I said like Italy," corrected young Mr. Vol- 
 kert, looking up hopefully from the more muscu 
 lar parts of the turkey. 
 
 "Be silent!" admonished his grandmother; 
 "no one is speaking to you." 
 
 "Anybody have a little piece more? Lovely 
 little piece here, dainty little piece!" piped Mr. 
 Ruggles, in seductive treble, his white shirt 
 bosom rising moonlike behind the ruins of the 
 bird. 
 
 "Do sit down, father," whispered Bell, "they 
 are all helped. Eat something yourself, please do. 
 
 Then Miss Toll, remembering that Miss Van 
 Wandeleer had been lunching in Park Avenue, 
 asked of her some tactful question concerning 
 the affair, and for a time the girl became the 
 center of polite attention. She said the party 
 had been very small, just a dozen girls, and a 
 countess from Chicago. She thought there had 
 been music in the hall, but did not quite remem 
 ber. The favors were rather nice, and the menu 
 about the sort of thing one expects.
 
 A Dish of Olives 39 
 
 Alida was never publicly critical of the rich, 
 holding honest doubts as to whether "mere 
 money" was such a bad thing after all, and as 
 she finished her godmother nodded approbation. 
 
 "Is it considered the thing now-a-days to place 
 champagne before young girls?" Mrs. Van Gaas- 
 beck inquired. Like Rosa Dartle, she asked for 
 information. 
 
 "Oh yes, I think so," answered Alida, sweetly, 
 "but of course it would be horribly bad form to 
 drink it." 
 
 "Ha, ha, ha!" laughed the doctor, breaking 
 silence for the first time. "May I repeat that at 
 the dispensary, Miss Van Wandeleer? The fel 
 lows would appreciate it." 
 
 "But you must not give me as an authority," 
 continued Alida, smiling, and Bell bent forward 
 to hear what the two were saying. 
 
 "Wine," observed Miss Deusenbury, "has 
 always, you know, been regarded as a symbol of 
 hospitality, especially among the Greeks, and 
 ahem the Phoenicians, and to me the idea of its 
 purely ceremonial use is charming." 
 
 "And so it is no doubt to the butler," observed 
 Miss De Wint. 
 
 "Speaking of wine," chirped Mr. Ruggles, 
 from behind the ham, but by that time the com 
 pany were speaking of something else. 
 
 Mrs. Van Gaasbeck, it seemed, had been near
 
 40 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 to death that day beneath the wheels of an auto 
 mobile, and although the narrative of her escape 
 was pointedly addressed to Grandma Epps alone, 
 the others took up the discussion of perilous 
 crossings with interest. 
 
 "I can remember a time when all the carriages 
 belonged to one s own friends," sighed Mrs. Van 
 Wandeleer. "The coachmen used to touch their 
 hats and draw up to let one by!" 
 
 "Why, even the stage drivers knew us in old 
 times!" added Miss De Wint. "They would 
 stop at Bond Street without waiting for me to 
 pull the strap." 
 
 "They were not always so considerate," ob 
 served Miss Deusenbury, her pale cheek flushing 
 slightly; "I was myself nearly knocked down 
 once by a stage on my way to school." 
 
 "Oh, tell us about it, please!" pleaded Alida. 
 
 "It was nothing, really!" protested the old 
 teacher, crumbling a bit of bread with her long, 
 thin fingers; "I fainted, I believe I was a mere 
 child and they carried me into Ball & Black s, 
 but it was really ridiculous, of course it seems 
 that Dandy Marken saw the driver s careless 
 ness, and mounting the box, threw the ruffian to 
 the ground." 
 
 "Oh, how delightful!" exclaimed Alida. 
 
 "No, my dear," said Miss Deusenbury, remem 
 bering, with a far-off smile, the frightened school
 
 A Dish of Olives 41 
 
 girl in flight through Amity Street with mud- 
 splashed pantalettes, "it was rather absurd in 
 the end, for Captain Marken drove the stage to 
 the Battery himself while all the people on the 
 sidewalk cheered." 
 
 "I remember that story," announced Miss De 
 Wint, with reminiscent fervor. "Dandy held up 
 his arm and shouted for passengers at every 
 corner, and when his friends climbed on until the 
 roof was crowded he refused to give change, and 
 at Chambers Street threw the money to the apple- 
 woman who always sat in front of Stewart s." 
 
 "He was a noble fellow," sighed Miss Toll. 
 "I used to know his sisters." 
 
 "I was in his Company," proclaimed little Mr. 
 Ruggles, for once making himself heard. "We 
 wore the Austrian uniform and our horses were 
 all coal black." 
 
 "Were the Markens ever really in society?" 
 asked Mrs. Van Gaasbeck, whose memory refused 
 to leap the Sanitary Fair. 
 
 "Perhaps not exactly in the Bond Street set," 
 admitted Miss De Wint, "but I am afraid we 
 were a little too strict at times." 
 
 "My father used to say that Mrs. Slingerland, 
 the leader of that lot, was the vulgarest old 
 woman he ever knew." 
 
 "Mrs. Slingerland was my aunt." 
 
 "Oh, was she, really? I am so sorry."
 
 42 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 "Well, you needn t be," interrupted Miss De 
 Wint; "Aunt Rachel was one of the few people 
 who could afford to say exactly what she pleased. " 
 
 "I m sure that we should all like to do that at 
 times," murmured Miss Toll. 
 
 Coffee now appearing, a diversion was made 
 by the departure of Grandma Epps, who eschewed 
 stimulant, and being slow of foot rose laboriously 
 and started for the parlor, led rather than sup 
 ported by Mary. 
 
 "Can t I help?" asked Edward, without 
 warmth. 
 
 "Not till you learn the difference between a 
 person s arm and a pump handle," said Grandma 
 Epps. 
 
 "I think," observed Mr. Bella, pushing back 
 his chair and looking about him with the air of one 
 who scents Madeira, "I am convinced that Mr. 
 Chamberlain is making a great mistake. What 
 England needs to-day is a Palmerston." 
 
 "Indeed, I quite agree with you," assented 
 Miss Deusenbury, folding her hands. 
 
 "Or even a Gladstone," added Miss Toll, who 
 also relished a dash of British politics after din 
 ner. Like the others it was the flavor she valued, 
 not the brand, and she was never quite secure as 
 to whether the Budget was an official or a thing. 
 
 As the company separated into gradually dis 
 solving groups, Alida asked: "Cousin Caroline,
 
 A Dish of Olives 43 
 
 did you ever really have an aunt named Slinger- 
 land?" 
 
 "Certainly not, my dear," said Miss De Wint. 
 "She was a horrid old woman we did not even 
 know. It s broiling hot in here; come into the 
 parlor unless you mean to smoke." 
 
 "Caroline, how can you say such things to 
 Alida, even in jest?" 
 
 "Josephine, how do I know what tricks the 
 girl has not picked up in the places you let her 
 go to?" 
 
 As they moved toward the door, Alida, per 
 ceiving the battle to be on again, slipped away 
 with a pretext of interest in Mr. Volkert s riddle, 
 and it was while listening to its stupid answer 
 that she stumbled upon a discovery. It hap 
 pened that the Van Gaasbecks, mother and son, 
 were leaving the room together when the doctor 
 apparently held back to give his parent prece 
 dence. Then Bell, who was near, drew nearer, 
 and the two exchanged some whispered words. 
 The colloquy was brief, and in a moment they 
 were far apart, Bell looking for something behind 
 the clock and Van Gaasbeck in the hall debating 
 a question of rubbers with his mother. But 
 Alida had divined a secret. She would have 
 been glad to embrace Bell they had been good 
 friends at school and the doctor could have had 
 her blessing for the asking, but the one thought
 
 44 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 uppermost was an unbecoming joy at the surprise 
 in store for Mrs. Van Gaasbeck. 
 
 "Bluebell," she said, recalling their schoolroom 
 good-fellowship with the old school nickname, 
 "come into my room; I ve got a box of Huyler s, 
 fresh to-day." 
 
 "Thank you, Alida, but I have a headache 
 now, and I m going to bed early," Bell answered, 
 irresponsively, though her snapping eyes and 
 heightened color suggested that it must be 
 pleasant to have something on one s mind worth 
 telling a story about. 
 
 In the face of Bell s large secret Alida s own 
 seemed small, but still for purposes of exchange 
 retained a certain market value. It was like 
 recess again at Madame Brown s. 
 
 "Do come," she urged, persuasively; but Bell 
 was not to be persuaded. 
 
 "I really have a letter to write," she said, for 
 getting her former reason, and presently Alida 
 heard her go down to the family sitting-room in 
 the front basement. 
 
 Miss Van Wandeleer, believing herself alone, 
 remembered Mrs. Norris s box, regretfully. She 
 had planned a restful evening for herself in 
 preparation for a dance the following night, a 
 healthful season of repose with Huyler s and a 
 book, but now with both awaiting her in her 
 mother s upstairs parlor neither appeared at all
 
 A Dish of Olives 45 
 
 desirable, and it was with unwonted satisfaction 
 that she again became aware of Edward Volkert. 
 
 "I ve got another good one for you," an 
 nounced the student of law. Behind her back 
 he had been engaged in fussily meddling with 
 the clock, but this was not the interest that 
 detained him. 
 
 "Oh, are you still there," she answered, turn 
 ing; "I thought you were studying for some 
 examination or something." 
 
 Alida s tone was not one to encourage riddles, 
 and neither did the now darkened room seem 
 suited for frivolity. 
 
 The servants had lost no time in replacing the 
 white cloth with drapery of dingy red, and the 
 chairs were all drawn back against the wall. 
 The candles had given place to gas jets, and the 
 atmosphere would have been the better for an 
 open window. 
 
 "I guess my studies will keep," retorted Vol 
 kert, grinning, "until I have been out to get a 
 little air." 
 
 It was a convenient belief of Grandma Epps, 
 a sort of legal fiction, that Edward when not eat 
 ing communed with Coke, while in point of fact, 
 his presence after dinner in the house commonly 
 endured but for the time required for her portly 
 back to disappear behind the parlor door. 
 Where he went, what voices called to him out of
 
 46 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 the great, dark city, heaven only knew, and of 
 the hour of his return only the most wakeful had 
 an inkling. 
 
 "I should think you would be ashamed to be 
 so deceitful," Alida said, reprovingly, interpret 
 ing the grin, and Volkert with both hands made 
 a gesture of impatience. Jerking a chair from 
 its place he rested one knee on the seat and 
 leaned toward her, his elbows on the back. 
 
 "For goodness sake let up on that," he said, 
 with the odd smile which often placated those 
 who found his eccentricities most annoying. 
 "How would you like never to have a person 
 speak to you without beginning, You ought to 
 be ashamed of yourself? Wouldn t it jar you? 
 Wouldn t it ruffle your fur?" 
 
 "You cannot expect any one to approve of 
 your behavior," she returned, with lessened 
 severity. Slight as her interest was in Edward 
 Volkert, he at least was neither middle-aged nor 
 disappointed, which merits were, though nega 
 tive, to be counted in his favor. 
 
 "I can t expect much, for a fact," he readily 
 admitted, "but it s bad enough to live in a merry 
 morgue without having every one down on me 
 you especially. " 
 
 "Oh, I m not down on you," she answered, 
 laughing. Even a tithe from Edward Volkert 
 was welcome on a rainy night.
 
 A Dish of Olives 47 
 
 "I m not worth that much trouble," he re 
 joined, with artful pathos, following up the slight 
 advantage. 
 
 "I never supposed you cared much what people 
 thought of you," she said, continuing, indulg 
 ently, "and really I don t blame you very much. 
 Every boy should have some one to take an inter 
 est in him. You should have had a sister." 
 
 "It s a mighty good thing for her she never 
 happened," he retorted, laughing; "she would 
 not have been able to study law. She would 
 have had to be respectable, and mend things, and 
 remember the claims of a distinguished family 
 mostly under ground." 
 
 Alida took another chair and knelt upon it 
 facing him. The attitude was not a serious one, 
 but neither was the argument. 
 
 "And don t you ever think of that yourself?" 
 she asked. 
 
 "Oh, yes, I can t forget it. I m to have 
 twelve hundred a year if the Guardian and Trustee 
 don t want it when Grandma folds her napkin, 
 and a cornelian watch fob, slightly cracked. It 
 is a great thing to be a Knickerbocker! 
 
 "Oh I m Mr. Knickerbocker, 
 And my name is on the knocker, 
 If you want a real old-stocker 
 Call on Gerritt Knickerbocker! " 
 
 Volkert sang the comic opera patter to the
 
 48 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 accompaniment of a dance executed as by one 
 having gouty feet, and his wince of anguish at 
 the end was most expressive. 
 
 "I should think," commented Alida, gravely, 
 "that even that would teach you to have some 
 thing to be proud of. If I were a man I should 
 show people that the old stock was more than a 
 thing to joke about. I should not allow myself 
 to be pushed down and kept under. I should 
 make myself and my name respected, if it were 
 only on a knocker." She had regained her feet 
 and stood with one hand on the chair back im 
 pressively, her eyes bright, her color heightened 
 prettily. "Edward, your grandfather was presi 
 dent of Princess College," she went on, "and 
 you you have you no ambition?" 
 
 "Not much, I am afraid," he answered, lightly. 
 "I guess the breed s run down, or else the com 
 mon people have grown smarter. Old Clatworthy 
 used to be my uncle s office boy, and Barrow s 
 father drove a hack. Ask the old lady, she has 
 got them all down fine." 
 
 Alida tossed her head impatiently. 
 
 "What sense is there in depreciating other 
 people?" she demanded. 
 
 "I don t," he answered, stoutly. "It s the 
 others who depreciate me. I m everybody s 
 blackboy at the office, and everybody s tomfool 
 here. My little body is a-weary of the whole
 
 A Dish of Olives 49 
 
 push, and I d fly the coop to-morrow if it were, 
 not for one one thing." 
 
 As he spoke his wandering, irresponsible eyes 
 grew for a moment fixed and purposeful, and his 
 voice softened. 
 
 "Alida, have you ever spoken to an actor?" he 
 asked, and Alida, puzzled by the change of topic, 
 answered upon reflection that she had once met 
 Graham Foster at a tea; his wife was a De 
 Moulde, she added. 
 
 "Which explains his being there," Volkert re 
 marked, with irony. "Would you marry an 
 actor?" 
 
 "It is not at all likely I shall ever have to 
 decide about that," she answered, eying him 
 curiously, for even silly questions often lead to 
 something. "Now, if he were a good, kind 
 actor, thoroughly high principled, and really 
 great " she debated, flippantly. 
 
 "Do you think a comic actor could ever be 
 really great?" 
 
 "Oh, but I said high principled as well!" she 
 reminded him, laughing, and Volkert, laughing 
 with her, announced that he must go. 
 
 "The Body Guard comes on at nine," he said, 
 in explanation. 
 
 "What do you mean by the Body Guard?" 
 
 "King Solomon s body guard in the Queen 
 of Sheba, of course. Know, madam, that you
 
 5 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 have the honor of beholding a chorus gent from 
 the Alhambra!" 
 
 "The Alhambra? You!" exclaimed Alida, with 
 surprise, but with much less consternation than 
 he would have liked. 
 
 "The same," said Volkert, making an Oriental 
 salaam. "My post is on the minaret to-night, 
 that I may warn the ladies of the household when 
 the king draws near. There would be a lot of 
 trouble if I should fail them, and speaking of 
 trouble perhaps you won t mind waiting till yon 
 aged dame mentions the matter before springing 
 it on her." 
 
 "If you mean to ask me not to tell tales, that 
 is hardly necessary," answered Alida, stiffly. 
 "I have no wish to interfere with the chosen 
 career for which you are so admirably adapted." 
 
 "You don t mean that exactly as a compli 
 ment," he rejoined, "but anything is better than 
 You ought to be ashamed of yourself. 
 
 "Oh, why do you do it?" she protested, actu 
 ated by a generous impulse. "If you must go 
 on the stage, why not try to be another sort of 
 actor?" 
 
 "Would it make any difference to you?" he 
 asked, with sudden seriousness. "Would it make 
 one particle of difference, now or ever?" 
 
 "Of course, as an old friend " began Alida, 
 feebly, but he interrupted her.
 
 A Dish of Olives 51 
 
 "Let us omit the doxology," he said. "Good 
 night." 
 
 "You cannot say good night until I am ready," 
 said Alida, "and I am not ready yet." 
 
 "I ll stay here all the evening, if you ll let 
 me." 
 
 "No, you are better off on your minaret. I 
 only want you to understand that I am not 
 shocked, and that I don t consider you a desper 
 ate character. You will probably get very tired 
 of all this before long, but meanwhile you must 
 make me a promise." 
 
 "That s dead easy! Anything you like." 
 
 "Then promise," she commanded, solemnly, 
 "that you won t drink cocktails with those horrid 
 people behind the scenes." 
 
 "Cocktails!" he exclaimed, derisively, "never 
 fear, I haven t got a nickel for the growler." 
 
 "So much the better," she retorted, holding 
 out her hand, which he took in both of his. 
 
 "Whatever you may think of me," he said, 
 "I ll back you for a thoroughbred."
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 AT THE TOP OF THE STAIRS 
 
 If Miss Van Wandeleer did not at once deliver 
 the message left by the unnamed stranger from 
 Oro City to her godmother, she should not be 
 too severely criticised. No fitting opportunity 
 occurred in which to present the entire incident 
 of the visit in its true proportions. And this was, 
 in a way, unfortunate, as in the interval of wait 
 ing the days of grace allowed to minor incidents 
 expired. She could readily explain the circum 
 stances, she reflected, were she ever to meet the 
 visitor again. And of this there seemed a reason 
 able probability. One generally meets people 
 again. 
 
 "Alida, if you are not going to a chicken-show 
 or to play parlor foot-ball, or to church," re 
 marked Miss De Wint, one afternoon within the 
 octave of the sleet storm, "I should like to have 
 you come with me." 
 
 "Have you anything to carry, Cousin Caro 
 line?" inquired Alida with caution, but at the 
 same time she laid her book aside. 
 
 "Nothing at all," replied her godmother, reas 
 suringly; "I am only going out to make a call." 
 52
 
 At the Top of the Stairs 53 
 
 "What shall I wear?" 
 
 "Oh, anything that is not too good. I want 
 to see if Mrs. Van der Werff is still alive. I 
 haven t been there for a year." 
 
 They were in the upstairs sitting-room, and 
 Alida s hat, conveniently pinned to the back of 
 a sofa, was not far to seek. 
 
 "She is the old lady who lives so excessively 
 upstairs, and opens the front door by machinery, 
 remarked Alida, as standing before the glass 
 she recalled a former visit to Mrs. Van der 
 Werff. 
 
 "She don t go flying up and down in elevators, 
 and she don t employ an inhibited curate to stare 
 you out of countenance, but she is a lady for all 
 that,-" her sponsor said, reprovingly. 
 
 "Indeed she is," rejoined Alida, warmly, push 
 ing in the final pin. "I would give anything to 
 say devil with such real refinement." 
 
 "Mrs. Van der Werff has had more than her 
 share of trouble." 
 
 "Oh, yes; I know it takes a lot of practice." 
 
 In the street they turned eastward as far as 
 University Place; then north past the French 
 hotel, the old furniture shop that has seen so 
 much better days, and the library whose subscrip 
 tion list is history itself. At Fourteenth Street 
 they avoided Dead Man s Curve by a diagonal 
 course across Union Square.
 
 54 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 "I remember being at a party once in that 
 third house from the corner," began Miss De 
 Wtnt. But the fascinating memories of Miss De 
 Wint were legion. At Irving Place she had an 
 anecdote for every corner; at St. George s a 
 romance for every house. Ah, the good old 
 people and the good old days, when the Eden 
 gates stood wide open as those of Stuyvesant 
 Park! Just before you were born, my dear. 
 And once upon a time the pigs drank wine just 
 before you were born. 
 
 "Cassidy. Bodkin. Assenheimer. Strapp. " 
 Alida read aloud from the row of bells as she and 
 Miss De Wint stood waiting in a neat but narrow 
 vestibule. "I wonder if Mrs. Van der Werff 
 knows the Strapps, or if the Assenheimers will 
 drop in to tea?" 
 
 "Alida," returned Miss De Wint, severely, 
 "how can you be so heartless!" 
 
 "I m not," protested Alida, stoutly; "if I 
 lived here I d know them all. There is no ad 
 vantage in being poor if you can t be common. 
 It would be like being well off without a taste 
 for music or artichokes." 
 
 When presently the door, with a mechanical 
 click of welcome, swung open on a cautious 
 crack, the visitors found themselves in a tiled 
 hallway, scrupulously clean, and smelling of var 
 nish. Somewhere in the center of the building
 
 At the Top of the Stairs $$ 
 
 arose the means of access to the heights above. 
 This stairway, being rectangular, was broken 
 into innumerable short flights, with intermediate 
 platforms and landings which greatly magnified 
 the vertical perspective. After a turn or so one 
 ceased to count, and experienced the elation of 
 doing something worthy. Then unexpected 
 doors bearing inscriptions Cassidy Bodkin 
 contributed the sustenance of human presence as 
 might the sight of casual Alpine farms. Upon 
 the more important stations every hundred 
 metres in altitude perhaps there were chairs; 
 that is, one chair to every station. Cousin Caro 
 line walked past the first of these disdainfully; 
 at the second she stood still to look down and 
 up which is always a mistake and at the third 
 she seated herself, frankly. 
 
 "Alida," she began, "if ever you should 
 marry " and here Miss Caroline paused for 
 breath. 
 
 "If ever I do marry," returned Alida, sitting 
 down, regardless of her skirt, upon the lower step 
 of the next ascent, "I shall marry a Cassidy and 
 live on the first flight up." 
 
 "I was about to say," went on Miss De Wint 
 and her words were still a trifle over-punctuated 
 "that the country has a great many advantages 
 after all. But then, when one has to choose 
 between vulgarity and malaria, and there don t
 
 ^6 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 seem to be any one left to marry, one does not 
 know exactly how to advise." 
 
 "And if there should happen to be any one left 
 I might not like him or he might not like me," 
 Alida added, making the case more hopeless than 
 before. 
 
 "I trust you will never throw yourself away," 
 continued Miss De Wint, reflectively. "Young 
 girls in our day have so little sense; they think 
 when a man has fallen desperately in love with 
 them there is nothing more to ask." 
 
 "Oh, I should require lots of things," pro 
 tested the neophyte, in her own defense. "Fam 
 ily, for one thing; that is the first essential." 
 
 As she did not know why she laughed her god 
 mother could scarcely be expected to. 
 
 "It is a serious matter," rejoined the elder 
 lady, seriously. "One cannot even trust good 
 names any longer, there has been such a lot of 
 indiscriminate marrying. Just as you, my dear, 
 are only half De Wint, though thank goodness 
 the other half s Van Wandeleer. No, names 
 don t count for anything." 
 
 "No," assented Alida, with a little sigh; 
 "think how the Adamses must have got diluted." 
 
 "Now there is that young Osterhout who sends 
 you orchids," persisted Miss De Wint she rarely 
 had her godchild in so close a corner "there is 
 not a better name to be found, outside of a very
 
 At the Top of the Stairs 57 
 
 few, but his mother s father was a frightful per 
 son who manufactured stockings." 
 
 "No, Cousin Caroline, seamless underwear," 
 corrected Alida. " See that K. O. K. is woven 
 on every piece! 
 
 "You must be careful not to let that young 
 man become too attentive." 
 
 "I shall try," replied Alida, dutifully. "When 
 he confided to me that K. O. K. meant Keep Out 
 Kold, I only said I would ask my dealer for them. 
 Was not that reserved and ladylike?" 
 
 They did not stop again till Strapp, and then 
 but for a brief recuperation for the final effort. 
 
 "What sort of people do those Brisbanes 
 know?" demanded Miss De Wint, tenacious of a 
 train of thought of which the burden might be 
 guessed. 
 
 "Oh, nobody very much as yet. Just million 
 aires and wandering dukes, and people they cross 
 the ocean with. I don t believe they could give 
 anything very big without the Waldorf register. 
 Mrs. Brisbane is not ambitious, and Mr. Bris 
 bane only likes the fun of making money; but 
 Bessie, I am sure, will get there with both 
 feet." 
 
 "Alida," cried Miss De Wint, stopping short, 
 one foot upon the penultimate flight, "where 
 under heaven did you learn such an expression?" 
 
 "Why, Cousin Caroline, that is a classic in the
 
 58 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 language. It means that she will win unqualified 
 success." 
 
 "Then you had much better say so." 
 Discussion was here interrupted by the appear 
 ance of a head outlined against the skylight just 
 above, which head, being that of Mrs. Van der 
 Werff s general utility, signified both that the 
 bell was broken and a disposition on the part of 
 the utility to anticipate events. 
 
 "Is Mrs. Van der Werff at home?" 
 "In there," replied the servant, tersely, with 
 a movement of the thumb toward the open door; 
 and by way of apology she added, "There s some 
 body else a comin up, I guess." 
 
 "Good gracious, if that isn t Caroline De Wint! 
 Well, Caroline, how are you? Time does not 
 stand still for either of us." 
 
 The speaker was seated in a rocking-chair 
 beside a window overlooking miles of brown tin 
 roofs from which near at hand rose many chim 
 neys, and further off steeples and towers and 
 stacks and sky-scrapers under white columns of 
 flying steam. She was a stout old lady who 
 either parted her hair on one side or had been 
 careless in adjusting its convenient counterfeit, 
 and her dress, though otherwise unexceptionable, 
 gave the impression of being so loosely held 
 together that it was just as well she did not 
 attempt to rise.
 
 At the Top of the Stairs 59 
 
 "Excuse my not getting up," she said; "I 
 never get up for any one. Who s that?" 
 
 By "that" she clearly meant Alida. 
 
 "This," said Miss De Wint, sinking into a 
 chair unasked, "is Miss Van Wandeleer. " 
 
 "Miss Fiddle!" exclaimed Mrs. Van der Werff, 
 derisively. "Who was her father?" 
 
 "Why, Valentine Van Wandeleer, of course." 
 
 "What, Josephine s child? My goodness! how 
 the devil came Josephine De Wint to have a 
 pretty daughter? Stand out, my dear, and show 
 yourself. " 
 
 Whereupon Alida reluctantly stood out. 
 
 "How old are you?" 
 
 "Twenty," still more reluctantly. 
 
 "Engaged to be married?" 
 
 "No," almost defiantly. 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 Alida did not answer. 
 
 "Fiddle!" remarked Mrs. Van der Werff. 
 
 "Sit down, Alida," put in Cousin Caroline; 
 "you must be tired." 
 
 "Why should she be?" demanded Mrs. Van 
 der Werff, suspecting a reference to the stairs; 
 and in a more genial tone she said, "I m glad to 
 see you both." 
 
 The room, which was small, was papered in 
 stripes so positive as to give one the sensation 
 of being hung up in a bird cage. The furniture,
 
 60 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 for the most part unsubstantial, modern, and inex 
 pensive, lost nothing of those qualities by con 
 trast with a cumberous carved oak cabinet and a 
 standing clock the Van der Werff equivalents 
 for The Tankard and The Spoon. By way of 
 decoration there were several bits of Eastern 
 printed cotton draped meaninglessly here and 
 there, and on a very small piano stood a spiky 
 growing plant. Apart from a gray goat-skin rug 
 which became at times aggressive, Mrs. Van der 
 Werff s apartment was as cheerful as that lady 
 herself. 
 
 "I ll give you some tea in a minute when that 
 devilish girl gets through hanging over the banis 
 ters," she said, hospitably. "Do you like tea, 
 my dear?" 
 
 Alida answered with slight regard to truth that 
 she liked tea very much. 
 
 "I m sorry to hear it," said her hostess; "it s 
 very bad for you. Caroline De Wint, tell me 
 who is dead." 
 
 "Oh, I have not heard of any one lately. Of 
 course you heard about " and Cousin Caroline 
 enumerated several recent takings off. 
 
 "Fiddle!" remarked the other most ungrate 
 fully. Then prompted by a shuffle in the ante 
 room, she raised her voice and cried, "Why the 
 devil don t you come in, you blundering young 
 giraffe? Don t stand there scratching like a cat. "
 
 At the Top of the Stairs 61 
 
 "I m taking off my overshoes," replied a mild 
 and masculine voice, and the visitors, turning 
 toward the door, saw enter a gray-haired gentle 
 man, tall, but slightly stooping, eminently sedate, 
 and wearing the high cut waistcoat of divinity. 
 
 "Oh, Doctor Groesbeck," said Mrs. Van der 
 Werff, unabashed, "I thought you were the 
 orphan." 
 
 "I am an orphan," replied the doctor, smiling 
 quietly, "and also I fear at times a blundering 
 giraffe. Why, Miss Caroline, this is indeed a 
 pleasure." 
 
 "Here is my godchild," said Cousin Caroline, 
 when she and the newcomer had shaken hands 
 most cordially. "Alida, Doctor Groesbeck was 
 an old friend of your father s." 
 
 Alida, becoming properly ancillary, allowed 
 her hand to remain in the custody of the clergy 
 man as he said, "An old friend, very truly. I 
 was no longer a young man when your father 
 went to Harvard. I used to say his course there 
 was my own, and I was proud to graduate so well. 
 I never went to college." 
 
 There was a gentle, old-time graciousness about 
 this clergyman of whom she had never heard 
 before, but who had known her father, and Alida 
 listened gladly as he talked, recalling musty, com 
 monplace memories with the elder women. Some 
 times they differed concerning unimportant dates,
 
 62 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 or the trivial deeds of long dead people; but at 
 such times, Mrs. Van der Werff s ever-ready 
 "devil" appeared to restore harmony. 
 
 Once, when the conversation touched upon the 
 ology, Mrs. Van der Werff exclaimed, "Fiddle! 
 the churches fight like cats and dogs, and how 
 are you going to stop it?" 
 
 "I should say, take care of the catechisms and 
 the dogmas will take care of themselves," replied 
 the old gentleman, neatly. 
 
 Afterward Alida learned that Doctor Groes- 
 beck was the vicar of a small mission chapel 
 which was ever on the eve of being closed for 
 want of funds, and she made a mental addition 
 to the list of things she meant to do when she 
 was rich. 
 
 By and by came tea, much too strong, without 
 the possibility of being weakened by reason of 
 there being no hot water, and Doctor Groesbeck 
 produced a card-board box of little cakes, which 
 seemed to be a customary tribute on his part to 
 Mrs. Van der Werff. 
 
 "He thinks they put me in a good humor to 
 listen to his sermons when he brings them around 
 to read to me," she explained. 
 
 "I suppose you do not often get to church," 
 ventured Alida, with sympathy. 
 
 "No, my dear, I haven t been to church since 
 they changed the prayer book, and I don t see
 
 At the Top of the Stairs 63 
 
 why the devil they could not let it alone. I don t 
 pretend to be a Christian, but thank God I m a 
 good Protestant." 
 
 In a momentary pause which followed this pro 
 fession of faith, the voice of the orphan became 
 audible without. 
 
 "Just sail right in, Miss Sheepmouse, there s 
 nothing doin* only the old bloke and a couple of 
 dames." 
 
 Into the eyes of Mrs. Van der Werff there 
 came an evil gleam, but she merely said, in a 
 hoarse and hurried whisper, "Caroline, do you 
 remember Serena Laurens?" 
 
 "Yes, poor Serena; I hear she has had to go 
 into a Home." 
 
 "Hush, don t shout so, here comes her daugh 
 ter. I ve got her here with me; there was not 
 another place on earth for her to go. Remember 
 that, Van Wandeleer, and don t you dare to 
 patronize!" 
 
 "Alida never patronizes." 
 
 "Well, don t let her begin." 
 
 "I think Miss Schepmoes called on us the other 
 day," Alida said. 
 
 Miss Serena Schepmoes was not a young lady 
 to defend from patronage. As she came in 
 panting from the long ascent, she stood a moment 
 on the threshold, just long enough, it seemed, to 
 grasp the situation, then going to each guest in
 
 64 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 turn, she displayed a most discriminating sense 
 of values, deference, reverence, respect, and open 
 gratification; the last toward Alida, beside whom 
 she immediately took her place. 
 
 "I ve been out looking fora situation," she 
 announced with charming candor, while it oc 
 curred to Alida that her eyes were not so very 
 near together after all. Her hair was brown 
 and soft and wavy, and she had a very nice 
 complexion. In spite of her mother s unkind 
 remark, Alida was disposed to like Miss Schep- 
 moes. 
 
 "Oh, have you, really!" said Alida. "What 
 fun it must have been." 
 
 "But it wasn t," said Serena; "not just one 
 little bit." 
 
 The account that followed was brief and 
 sketchy and picturesque. It appeared that in a 
 single day Miss Schepmoes had offered to become, 
 for hire, a private secretary, a figure in a cloak 
 department, a trained nurse, and a member of 
 the chorus. 
 
 "You see, it is always better when they know 
 something about you," she explained. "So I 
 went to Mr. Assenheimer who works in a hos 
 pital, and to Bodkin, who manufactures cloaks, 
 and to Cassidy, who has a theatrical agency; 
 they all live in this house, which gives me some 
 sort of claim for civility at least."
 
 At the Top of the Stairs 65 
 
 "Why did not you try Strapp, too?" Alida 
 asked. But Strapp, unfortunately, was a widow. 
 
 "The only one who was any good at all was 
 Cassidy, " went on Serena, "and he had nothing 
 just at present but the Alhambra, and that I 
 should not like at all, would you?" 
 
 Alida was quite certain that either would find 
 the Alhambra distasteful, and asked about the 
 secretaryship. 
 
 "Oh, that was just a flyer; I walked into the 
 biggest office I could find and asked the most 
 conceited looking man if they needed a private 
 secretary. Would you believe it, he asked me 
 to come in and gave me a chair and began at 
 once to talk about my qualifications. I really 
 thought I had struck something, because I can 
 write shorthand, and I am a pretty good type 
 writer, till suddenly he began to laugh, and 
 said, Suppose we go out to lunch and talk it 
 over. 
 
 As Miss Schepmoes paused to allow the signifi 
 cance of this announcement to take effect, Alida 
 flushed to the roots of her hair. "Of course you 
 came away at once," she said, indignantly. 
 
 "Oh, no; I only said, You have not asked me 
 for my references. Yes, by the way, who are 
 your references? said he, still laughing; and I 
 answered just as calmly as I could, Mrs. Tunis 
 Van der Werff, and Mrs. Valentine Van Wande-
 
 66 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 leer, and half a dozen others, ending up with the 
 Bishop of New York. You should have seen 
 him stare. I m afraid there has been some 
 mistake, he said, insolently; this is not the 
 Guardian and Trustee Company and I couldn t 
 think of anything worse than leaving the door 
 open." 
 
 "What are you two talking about?" cried Mrs 
 Van der Werff, shrilly, and at the same time 
 tossing a sofa pillow at the girls to attract atten 
 tion. "Van Wandeleer, why can t you find 
 Serena a place; you know all these shoddy mil 
 lionaires." 
 
 "I can," announced Alida, "and I will." 
 
 "You mean that you will do your best," said 
 Cousin Caroline, correctingly. 
 
 "No," said Alida, "I mean that I will ask Mr. 
 Brisbane to give Miss Schepmoes a nice, easy 
 place with a good salary, and I am sure he will 
 doit." 
 
 "And who the devil is Mr. Brisbane?" de 
 manded Mrs. Van der Werff. 
 
 "I think he is interested in railways and such 
 things," explained Alida, modestly, "and he has 
 to have a great many clerks, so I am sure he will 
 be glad to know of some one he can trust im 
 plicitly. " 
 
 "Where did he come from?" 
 
 "Peoria, I think."
 
 At the Top of the Stairs 67 
 
 "Lord!" muttered Mrs. Van der Werff, "how 
 the mud is getting stirred up!" 
 
 Serena kissed Alida at the door, at which effu 
 sive sign of progress toward a close intimacy 
 Cousin Caroline seemed far from gratified, but 
 Doctor Groesbeck said, in shaking hands: "If 
 .more of us poor Dutchmen knew how to say, I 
 will, we should not be crowded out so com 
 pletely." 
 
 "Don t tell her that," snapped Cousin Caro 
 line; "what she needs to learn is how to say, I 
 won t! But in a milder tone, she asked him 
 to extend his parochial calls to Kenilworth Place, 
 and this he promised to do in the spring, when 
 he returned from Delaware. 
 
 "I shall exchange climates for the winter," he 
 explained, "with a younger man who wants to 
 see visions while I am quite contented to dream 
 dreams." 
 
 "But won t your people miss you?" asked 
 Alida. 
 
 "Not very much, I fear," he answered; "but 
 I shall miss the squirrels in the Park." 
 
 "He seems a very kind old gentleman," said 
 Alida, when she and Cousin Caroline were again 
 in Stuyvesant Square; "he took being called a 
 giraffe so well." 
 
 "Humph!" returned her godmother, "I called 
 him something once much worse than that."
 
 68 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 And as her lips took on an expression forbidding 
 further question, Alida reflected that to be close- 
 mouthed was not the most engaging gift of the 
 De Wints.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 THE END OF A CENTURY 
 
 One generally sees people a second time; even 
 casual strangers, if they have anything noticeable 
 about them, are sure to reappear sooner or later, 
 just as one meets the Whistling Coon, the Fifth 
 Avenue Stork, the Little Old Lady who still, 
 wears flounces, or the man with scriptural texts 
 upon his hat, with a regularity that would be 
 curious if it happened to be of the slightest con 
 sequence. Thus Miss Van Wandeleer, when she 
 recalled her visitor from the sleet storm, reflected 
 also that to be lost in the largest haystack argues 
 little wit on the part of a needle. 
 
 Meanwhile the holidays came, lingered, and 
 went on their way, which meant for Alida small, 
 stupid parties and the callow experimental love- 
 making of boys from college. Once, catching 
 sight of the Brisbane ladies in the vicinity of 
 Tiffany s she had dropped a dollar in the Sal 
 vation Army pot to restore her peace of mind. 
 Again, her zeal for tying packages had given 
 great encouragement to the rector. But to really 
 enjoy the holidays one should have money, un 
 counted money, in a coal-scuttle, let us say. with 
 69
 
 jo The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 a convenient little fire-shovel close at hand; and 
 in default of this, even K. O. K. expressed in 
 orchids may meet with failure in its simple 
 mission. 
 
 Christmas in Kenilworth Place was less a feast 
 than an ordeal to be gone through with grace 
 fully. All the ladies, young and old, went to 
 church as often as the church s doors were open, 
 and their talk between whiles was of sacred 
 music. Mr. Ruggles explained the causes of the 
 current war to an attentive audience; and Edward 
 Volkert s account of the Feeding of the Multi 
 tude at the Garden was listened to with interest. 
 For it was the one day when reminiscence was 
 allowed to sleep. 
 
 But New Year s Day is different. He is a hard 
 old heathen, and strikes the table with his fist and 
 bellows for the glasses to be filled. He is like 
 cold-eyed Winter, who stalks unbidden to the fire 
 and remembers the cave bear; like painted Spring, 
 who used to flirt with Pan. 
 
 They had been talking of olekooks over the 
 coffee-cups, and of their doubtful offspring, the 
 degenerate modern doughnut; of pickled oysters, 
 and of New Year s calls. 
 
 "When young men began to wear evening 
 dress at noon," contributed Mrs. Bruyn Van 
 Gaasbeck, "we simply hung baskets on the bells 
 to keep them out."
 
 The End of a Century 71 
 
 "For my part," put in Mrs. Van Wandeleer, 
 "I should feel very much neglected if a few old 
 friends did not call to wish us a Happy New 
 Year. Whatever the fashion may be, I shall 
 always be ready to receive whoever comes, and 
 so, I hope, will my daughter as long as she 
 lives." 
 
 "Yes, indeed, mother," assented Alida, loyally. 
 "We shall have a crumby cake while there are 
 caraway seeds in the market; and when I am 
 ninety I shall brew the last New Year s punch 
 in a coffee-cup and drink it all alone by my 
 self." 
 
 "Oh, make it a teacup and give an old man a 
 show!" pleaded Mr. Volkert, elevating his voice 
 and his goblet of water at the same time. Then 
 with fingers tremulous with simulated age he 
 croaked from a mouth apparently toothless: 
 "Mistress Van Wandeleer, your punch is excel 
 lent; let us drink to The Last of the Knicker 
 bockers." 
 
 "Edward, be silent!" admonished Grandma 
 Epps, regarding him with pained surprise. But 
 from his end of the table little Mr. Ruggles 
 caught the toast, and springing to his feet ex 
 claimed, approvingly: "A fine sentiment, my boy ! 
 A noble sentiment! Though it is only water we 
 have, it is Croton Water, the vin du pays from the 
 old Westchester hills! Ladies and gentlemen,
 
 72 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 the toast is the Last of the Knickerbockers, 
 whoever he may be!" 
 
 For a moment a smoldering spark of fun 
 leaped up in Mr. Bella s ashen eyes, and as one 
 pink lid was lowered in a wink toward the doctor, 
 who applauded and cried "Hear, hear!" it was 
 as if he stood again in some forgotten revel of 
 the Troop, and drank Green Seal to Laura Kean. 
 
 "Whoever he may be," repeated Miss Toll, 
 and she and Miss Deusenbury sipped their glasses 
 reverently. Cousin Caroline drank with affected 
 gusto, Alida and her mother laughing, and Mrs. 
 Van Gaasbeck not at all, while Bella Junior for 
 got everything in the fear that her father was 
 being silly, and Bella Senior had no idea of what 
 was going on. 
 
 It was the last night of the year, a shabby, 
 sordid year to those who sat at Bella Ruggles s 
 table; but a thrifty one withal, that had left 
 gowns to turn again and gloves that would bear 
 several cleanings still. 
 
 There were feasts innumerable that night 
 throughout New Amsterdam, from the janitor s 
 kitchen, far up among the winter stars, to where 
 the hansom cabs stood black against a million 
 throbbing lights. Somewhere the ice fell rattling 
 in a silver bucket when the fat, green bottle was 
 withdrawn, and somewhere else a tin can went 
 from lip to lip, and everywhere old friends, old
 
 The End of a Century 73 
 
 times, were toasted. But if the ghosts come 
 back, the good old ghosts, to wish good luck to 
 all who can remember, then William of the testy 
 temper and Peter of the wooden leg touched 
 glasses in the down-town boarding-house where 
 they were not forgotten. 
 
 "Bell," said Alida later, when the four young 
 people found themselves alone, "don t you wish 
 that everything amusing had not been over and 
 done with long before we were born?" 
 
 They sat in their respective seats with the 
 breadth of the disordered table before them, Bell 
 and Van Gaasbeck on one side, separated by three 
 empty chairs, and Alida and Volkert on the 
 other, separated by one. 
 
 "And what do you call amusing?" inquired 
 the doctor, speaking out of turn as he polished 
 his heavy glasses with a napkin. 
 
 "If you mean New Year s calls," said Bell, "I 
 can t imagine anything more stupid." 
 
 "Oh, I don t mean anything in particular," 
 rejoined Alida, "only I should like to be gather 
 ing reminiscences to entertain the young when I 
 am old." 
 
 "Perhaps by that time we shall all have devel 
 oped imagination," said the doctor, quietly. 
 
 "What s the use of imagination when it s 
 too late to have any fun?" demanded Volkert, 
 adding boldly: "The trouble with you people
 
 74 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 is too much family Bible. I would not stand 
 it." 
 
 "But we have not all got your resources," said 
 Alida, and Bella Junior, with unwonted spirit, 
 asked, "What would you do?" 
 
 "I d do the first thing that came into my head, 
 and trust to luck." 
 
 "And what would that be this very minute?" 
 asked the doctor, putting on his glasses as 
 though for an examination. "Come, don t hesi 
 tate!" 
 
 "I d celebrate to-night." 
 
 "Good!" said the doctor; "how?" and both 
 girls felt a thrill of unconfessed anticipation. 
 
 "Am I to be in it?" asked Mr. Volkert, cau 
 tiously. 
 
 "The question is, are we to be in it?" said the 
 doctor, laughing, and the listeners laughed in 
 sympathy, for the doctor was a serious man and 
 would not have gone so far without a purpose. 
 
 "All right," agreed the younger man; "I ve 
 got one dollar and seven cents, and I want to 
 begin the New Year broke." 
 
 "That s just what I have," said the doctor 
 "one dollar and seven cents." 
 
 "So have I," said Bell. 
 
 "And so have I," Alida echoed. 
 
 "I say," protested Volkert, gallantly; "we 
 can t let the girls chip in."
 
 The End of a Century 75 
 
 "Why not?" inquired Van Gaasbeck, seriously; 
 "I don t know what you have in mind, but I 
 don t think four twenty-eight a bit too much." 
 
 "We might go to the theater and get four dol 
 lar seats." 
 
 "No, no!" cried Bella, in alarm, "we must not 
 think of doing anything that requires asking per 
 mission." While Alida, though she felt the 
 force of the objection, ventured a hope in mas 
 culine invention. 
 
 "Then," said Volkert, "there is nothing left 
 for us but Trinity Bells." 
 
 "Trinity Bells!" 
 
 "Trinity Bells!" 
 
 There was something rhythmic in the very 
 words to set the pulses chiming, and neither had 
 hoped for an adventure half so daring. 
 
 "That s my scheme," and Volkert became 
 father to the plan so well received. "We will 
 all lie low till bed-time" here he winked and 
 indicated with his thumb the parlor door "then 
 we will do a sneak." 
 
 "A what?" asked somebody. 
 
 "A vanishing act. We have here, ladies and 
 gentlemen, four young persons if you don t 
 believe it you can stick pins in them we close 
 the cabinet but an instant, and presto! they are 
 gone." 
 
 "Oh, Dick, what do you think of it?" cried
 
 y6 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 Bella Junior, turning to Van Gaasbeck, anxiously. 
 On the instant she checked herself, but all too 
 late, for had the syllable left anything in doubt 
 her cheeks proclaimed a secret free. 
 
 "Thank heaven, that cat s out at last!" cried 
 Volkert, with unfeeling mirth. "Here, puss, 
 puss, puss, come here, nice puss!" 
 
 "If it s not too soon I wish you both a very 
 Happy New Year," said Alida, from her heart, 
 and running round to Bell she kissed her affec 
 tionately. To the doctor she held out both 
 hands, while Mr. Volkert, draped in napkins, 
 assumed an attitude of benediction. 
 
 "It must be a comfort to find that we are not 
 in the least surprised," went on Alida, and Bell 
 became composed enough to ask: "Oh, do you 
 think that every one " 
 
 "Oh, no, indeed, I am sure not," answered 
 Alida, with conviction, and Volkert added, 
 "They think that things gave up happening fifty 
 years ago." 
 
 "Of course you understand " began the doc 
 tor. 
 
 "Nothing could make me breathe a word," 
 Alida interposed. 
 
 "And nobody ever listens to what I say," said 
 Volkert, reassuringly. 
 
 "Of course you understand," resumed the doc 
 tor, "that the evening s entertainment is on me. "
 
 The End of a Century 77 
 
 "But are not we going to hear the bells?" cried 
 Alida. 
 
 "There is nothing better for the appetite than 
 open air," he rejoined, professionally. 
 
 There had been a general relaxation of rules 
 in honor of the night, and an upsetting of estab 
 lished usage. Mrs. Van Gaasbeck had chal 
 lenged Grandma Epps at cribbage, Bella Senior, 
 Mrs. Van Wandeleer, Miss Caroline, and Mr. 
 Ruggles were to make four at whist, and the 
 Misses Toll and Deusenbury were to decide 
 mooted points at either table. It was further 
 understood that should any one elect to sit up till 
 midnight, a jelly cake might be found in the 
 pantry, together with materials for lemonade. 
 Judging from certain notes of mild hilarity the 
 spirit of carnival already stirred behind the red 
 mahogany doors, while in the dining-room the 
 fruity ceiling sent back more merriment than it 
 had done for many a day. 
 
 Volkert engaged in an inane attempt to make 
 a chime of finger bowls. Bell, still pleasantly 
 embarrassed, idly floated almond shells with eyes 
 intent upon her portent. Alida still stood so 
 near to Van Gaasbeck as to be sensible of iodo- 
 form ; and the doctor, who had risen, had not 
 regained his normal color. The scene was pas 
 toral in its simplicity, and it was upon it that the 
 tempest broke.
 
 7 8 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 "Of course there are one or two reasons just 
 at present " he was saying to the new-found 
 ally, with a world of confidence in his lowered 
 tones and highly magnified eyes, when suddenly 
 a voice of ominous calm spoke from the door the 
 one word : 
 
 "Richard!" 
 
 It was a time for instant action. To hesi 
 tate, to start, to turn were madness, to con 
 tinue looking into each other s eyes utter 
 imbecility. 
 
 Alida, opening her mouth, thrust out a small 
 pink tongue. 
 
 "Don t move, please," said the doctor, pro 
 fessional instinct coming to his aid, and taking 
 a coffee spoon from the table he pressed the 
 handle gently upon the unruly member. "Say 
 R r!" he commanded. 
 
 R-r-r-r, gurgled Alida. R-r-r-r. 
 
 "Richard!" the voice in the doorway spoke 
 again, more sternly. 
 
 "Presently, mother," replied the physician, 
 stooping to get a better view, and in a cheering, 
 bedside manner he went on: "I perceive a cer 
 tain irritation, but nothing that we cannot over 
 come with a little caution. Keep in the open air 
 as much as possible, and I will give you a pre 
 scription later." 
 
 The doctor smiled with satisfaction in his
 
 The End of a Century 79 
 
 diagnosis, while the patient credited him with 
 unsuspected talents. As he dipped the spoon in 
 a finger-bowl and wiped it on a napkin before 
 laying it aside, he said, as one recalled from 
 thought: "Ah, mother, is the game over?" 
 
 "No, Richard, the game has apparently just 
 begun," replied his parent, meaningly. 
 
 "Has it, indeed?" with interest. "You see I 
 have a new case. Miss Van Wandeleer was 
 afraid she had overtaxed her voice, but I see no 
 occasion for anxiety." 
 
 "Thank you so much," Alida murmured, and 
 Mrs. Van Gaasbeck remarked: "I would suggest 
 that in future Miss Van Wandeleer sing her 
 negro melodies in a lower key." 
 
 "Oh, it is too kind in you to think of me at 
 all," replied the sufferer. 
 
 "I shall watch your symptoms with the great 
 est interest," the mother answered. 
 
 "And I," rejoined Alida, warmly, "shall put 
 my whole trust in your son." 
 
 Meanwhile Bell and Volkert had held a whis 
 pered consultation, which resulted in that young 
 gentleman s circuitous exit through the pantry, 
 which had a service stairway. 
 
 "It s time for me to hit the pike," he said, 
 departing. 
 
 "Call back that boy!" commanded Mrs. Van 
 Gaasbeck; "his grandmother wants a handker-
 
 8o The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 chief," but no one seemed disposed to do her 
 bidding. 
 
 "I ll take her mine, " announced Alida, sweetly ; 
 "see, it s not even unfolded," and acting on the 
 impulse she darted past the elder lady out into 
 the hall. But at the parlor door she paused to 
 call, "Oh, Doctor Van Gaasbecjt, I have forgot 
 ten the name of that medicine; won t you come 
 here and write it down for me?" 
 
 "Of course; how thoughtless in me," he re 
 plied, and hurried after her, his mother follow 
 ing keen upon the scent. 
 
 "It is already past your office time," she said. 
 
 "I rather thought I d let the office go to 
 night," he answered, boldly. 
 
 "Not go to your office! What will your pa 
 tients think?" 
 
 "I hope they will think I have a consultation; 
 that is, if there are any there, which is doubtful. 
 Besides, I don t want to be detained to-night, I 
 have an engagement with some friends to hear 
 the chimes." 
 
 "What friends?" 
 
 "Oh, quite a little party, I believe." 
 
 Mrs. Van Gaasbeck did not press her question, 
 but cast toward Alida a look of triumph. 
 
 "The party will not be entirely masculine, I 
 suppose," she suggested, with unwonted leni 
 ency.
 
 The End of a Century 81 
 
 "I hope not," said the doctor, and upon catch 
 ing sight of Bell, who from the rear made signals 
 of instruction, he took his overcoat from its peg. 
 "Good night, mother," he said, shortly; "and 
 good night Miss Van Wandeleer, I am sure you 
 will do nothing rash." To which the young lady 
 answered with a smile of sweet assurance. 
 
 Mrs. Van Gaasbeck had not missed the smile, 
 and when the two were alone, she turned upon 
 her foe with righteous wrath. "Alida Van Wan 
 deleer, " she ejaculated, biting off her words, "I 
 can read you through and through." 
 
 "Can you, Mrs. Van Gaasbeck?" returned the 
 transparent one, defiantly. "Then it is from 
 you the doctor gets his cleverness." 
 
 "I shall tell you exactly what I think of your 
 conduct," announced the mother, her cub-pro 
 tecting instinct thoroughly aroused. 
 
 "Please don t tell it here," Alida pleaded. 
 "Your son insists that I should keep away from 
 draughts." 
 
 "There is nothing the matter with you, you 
 have been deceiving my son, there is nothing in 
 the world the matter with you." 
 
 "Then he has been deceiving me, in giving me 
 some horrible prescription." 
 
 "Alida Van Wandeleer " began Mrs. Van 
 Gaasbeck again, as though the name was in 
 itself an accusation, but the other interrupted.
 
 82 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 "Please come into the parlor; it is really chilly 
 here, and I should like to ask Cousin Caroline 
 what she thinks of a doctor who could play such 
 tricks upon a patient." 
 
 "My son never plays tricks." 
 
 "But if he told you there was nothing the 
 matter with me " 
 
 "I did not say he told me." 
 
 "Then how could you possibly know?" 
 
 "You are a wicked and deceitful girl!" 
 
 "Mrs. Van Gaasbeck," replied Alida, com 
 posedly, "I should not say such things if I were 
 you ; you may be wrong, you know, and then you 
 would feel obliged to beg my pardon." 
 
 "Beg your pardon!" 
 
 "Yes; wouldn t you be sorry if I were really 
 very ill?" 
 
 "Girl!" said the other, scornfully. 
 
 "I don t mind being called a girl," rejoined 
 Alida, "but I am neither wicked nor designing." 
 
 "Don t you consider it wicked to flirt?" 
 
 "No, Mrs. Van Gaasbeck, do you?" 
 
 "I call it both sly and deceitful." 
 
 "But not wicked." 
 
 "I never said wicked." 
 
 "You mean you did not intend to say wicked. " 
 
 "Not in the sense in which you seem to have 
 taken it." 
 
 "Then," said Alida, graciously, "let us say
 
 The End of a Century 83 
 
 no more about it. Of course now that you are 
 sorry, I shall never mention the subject again." 
 
 "Come down here, Alida," whispered Bell 
 from the shadow of the basement stairs, when 
 the battle had been tacitly declared a draw. 
 "The servants are in the dining-room." 
 
 The girls descended to the lower floor, crossed 
 the narrow entry, and found themselves in a 
 large, low ceilinged room, whose windows were 
 upon a level with the street. The room was fur 
 nished with odds and ends of furniture, once 
 impressive, the arm-chairs were large and com 
 fortable, and the shaded lamp gave to the place 
 an air of homely habitableness. 
 
 "Alida," began Bell, closing the door behind 
 them, "we have got you into trouble, but if you 
 will only wait until I can see Richard I promise 
 that everything shall be explained and set right." 
 
 "I think that the situation is perfect as it is," 
 replied Alida, leaning against the table and a 
 little flurried by her late encounter. "If we had 
 planned it ourselves it could not possibly have 
 been better." 
 
 "But, Alida, Mrs. Van Gaasbeck evidently 
 thinks" 
 
 "Yes, she thinks me wicked and designing, but 
 then she has thought that for months, so why 
 complicate matters? Why confuse the poor woman 
 with too many ideas at the same time?"
 
 84 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 "But the things she said to you!" 
 
 "Yes, and the things I said to her! Wasn t it 
 all funny?" 
 
 Bell sighed. "I tried hard to have courage to 
 come out and tell the truth. Oh, I wish I could 
 have done that," she cried, remorsefully. 
 
 "But that would have been a thousand times 
 worse," Alida answered. "Fancy our having a 
 regular row in the hall, and all the others run 
 ning out to see what was the matter, just 
 like" 
 
 Alida intended to say "like a farce," but Bell 
 interrupted. 
 
 "Like a horrid, common, vulgar boarding- 
 house!" she cried, passionately, throwing herself 
 into a chair and pressing her handkerchief to her 
 eyes. "Oh, Alida, how can you speak to me? 
 How can you have anything to do with me? Oh, 
 why does not Richard go away and forget me? 
 They will say that he married his boarding-house 
 keeper s daughter; they will laugh at him behind 
 his back and snub him to his face, and only call 
 him in to treat their butlers and housemaids, and 
 his mother will hate me all the days of her life." 
 
 "But she does not hate you yet, she only hates 
 me." 
 
 "When Richard hears of it" 
 
 "If you ever let him hear of it you will deserve 
 to have him go away and forget you."
 
 The End of a Century 85 
 
 "Oh, Alida!" 
 
 But Miss Van Wandeleer, who had taken a 
 book from the table, appeared oblivious of Bell s 
 affairs, and so she remained till, after many min 
 utes, the latter said: "Perhaps you are right." 
 
 "Bell," said Alida, regarding her companion 
 critically, "why don t you do your hair that way 
 oftener? It s so becoming. " 
 
 "I never used to think so myself," Bell an 
 swered, with ablush, "but Dick says " and after 
 this admission the narrative of how she came to 
 change her views followed logically. 
 
 It was a long story because there was ample 
 time for its telling, and it was a good story be 
 cause it was the sort of story that is always good. 
 It had a witch in it and a wolf a large and 
 meager wolf and a maid in a tower, and a lover 
 who had apparently no means of getting her out, 
 and although it broke off suddenly before the 
 fortunate circumstances appeared, it was bound 
 to turn out happily in the end. 
 
 "Then there is nothing in the way but money?" 
 commented Alida, incorrectly. 
 
 "That s all," said Bella Junior; "just a little 
 bit of money." 
 
 "Ah," piped Mr. Bella, bustling in upon them 
 two hours later, "having a little chat, cosy little 
 chat, I see. That s right, children. I m going
 
 86 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 to bed, Bell, dear, your mother has gone to bed, 
 everybody has gone to bed. Alida, your cousin 
 plays a strong game rattling strong game I call 
 it no scientific nonsense, no holding back good 
 cards for the other side to trump." 
 
 "Did you and Miss De Wint win, father?" 
 inquired Bell, with interest, though the question 
 was hardly necessary. 
 
 "Sha n t say anything about who won," replied 
 the little gentleman, slyly. "Alida, your 
 mother plays a strong game, and so does Mrs. 
 Ruggles. I tell you it was a battle for the odd 
 at every hand." 
 
 "Oh, father, who did win?" demanded Bell so 
 earnestly that the good man chuckled with 
 delight. 
 
 "Table secrets," he replied; "can t tell table 
 secrets outside the club. That used to be the 
 rule when I was in the Union, and I don t believe 
 they ve changed it yet." 
 
 "Did you play whist often at the club, Mr. 
 Ruggles?" asked Alida. 
 
 "Play, my dear! why I was a regular gambler. 
 Twenty-five cents a corner, two shillings, never 
 any higher. Lord bless my soul, what games we 
 used to have! Larry Van Sicklen and your 
 father God s gentleman your father was, always 
 the same whether he won or lost, and a better 
 man to finesse a bad hand never sat at a table.
 
 The End of a Century 87 
 
 If he had lived, my dear, he would have been 
 Secretary of State, my word for it he would." 
 
 "Is not Alida very like her father?" Bell 
 inquired. 
 
 "Yes; she has his forehead, but her mother s 
 eyes. Ever see those lines To Josephine s 
 Eyes that were printed in the Mirror? Every 
 one said Willis wrote them. Wonderfully clever 
 poet, Willis; best man we ever had." 
 
 "Was my father usually your partner at whist?" 
 
 "No, no ; the two Vans always played together. 
 My partner was poor Anthony De Wint, your 
 godmother s brother." 
 
 "Why, I never knew she had a brother!" ex 
 claimed Alida, in surprise. 
 
 "No, I suppose not. She would not be likely 
 to speak of him. He died out West before you 
 were born. I don t know how or where, though 
 my word for it, there was nothing that could not 
 be known to all the world. But they are a close- 
 mouthed lot, the De Wints, and Dutch as Edam 
 cheese." 
 
 "Did Anthony De Wint ever marry?" 
 
 "No, indeed, my word for it. There were a 
 lot of tales afloat once about his marrying a 
 squaw or a Mexican heiress or something of the 
 sort, but bless my soul, Anthony would never 
 have thought of being married without telling 
 me."
 
 88 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 "Did he look anything like Cousin Caroline?" 
 persisted Alida, her chin upon her hand, and her 
 eyes regarding the fringe of the table-cloth. 
 
 "Not a bit; not a bit; though of course there 
 never was a De Wint whose hair did not have a 
 little twist in the middle of the forehead a 
 most becoming little twist, Alida, I do assure 
 you." 
 
 "A cowlick, they call it," said Alida, laughing. 
 
 "Perhaps so, my dear, perhaps so," assented 
 Mr. Ruggles; "but for my part I never saw a cow 
 whose hair was long enough to curl. Good 
 night, children; don t sit up too late." 
 
 "But we are going to see the New Year in." 
 
 "Waiting to see the New Year in," repeated 
 the little man, pausing at the door. "No, chil 
 dren, waiting, I m afraid, to throw the old aside 
 because it is threadbare and out of fashion. 
 Some day you will lay the years away in laven 
 der. But that s the old man speaking; when I 
 was a boy I thought the Trinity Bells the finest 
 sound in all the world; they used to ring A 
 Good Time Coming. " 
 
 "But, father, it is coming still," cried Bella 
 Junior, springing up and throwing her arms about 
 his neck. "Say that you believe it is coming 
 still." 
 
 "Not coming, daughter, but here. That I 
 have learned, the good time is always here,"
 
 The End of a Century 89 
 
 and turning he kissed her gently on the fore 
 head he did not have to stoop. 
 
 "And won t you kiss me, too?" said Alida, 
 stepping forward. 
 
 "So your father would have kissed my Bell. He 
 was God s gentleman," said little Mr. Ruggles.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 REDDENS LAUDES DOMINO 
 
 Somewhere about eleven o clock there was a 
 tapping on the window-pane, a premeditated 
 telegraphic tapping, and Bell sprang up. 
 
 "You know the worst of us now, Alida, " she 
 said, with characteristic eagerness to forestall 
 compassion, "even to the area signals!" 
 
 A moment later Van Gaasbeck entered with 
 snow upon his shoulders and beads of melted 
 flakes upon his cheeks and nose. 
 
 "I say, it s snowing hard!" he cried at once, 
 as though a snowstorm were the one thing 
 needed to make their enterprise a complete suc 
 cess. 
 
 "What fun!" exclaimed Alida, and Bell imme 
 diately agreed with both. 
 
 The doctor wore an odd little forage cap, which 
 being brimless, he had forgotten to take off, and 
 a long-caped coat of peculiar brown. 
 
 "My stormy night get-up, " he explained; 
 "a friend bought it for me in Edinburgh and tried 
 to match my hair from memory, " and if the "get- 
 up" struck Alida as anything but professional 
 she liked the wearer all the better for not caring. 
 90
 
 Reddens Laudes Domino 91 
 
 "My throat is a little better," she announced, 
 to make a final disposition of the coffee spoon 
 episode, and Van Gaasbeck, flushing slightly, 
 said: "I am afraid my mother was not very sym 
 pathetic." 
 
 "Of course she suspected me of shamming and 
 said so frankly after you had gone; we had quite 
 a little chat," Alida answered, lightly, and when 
 the doctor had said "That s good," with evident 
 relief, the question of protection from the storm 
 took precedence of everything else. 
 
 "Here we are!" exclaimed Edward Volkert 
 upon the threshold. He had a knack of becom 
 ing suddenly the First Napoleon by putting his 
 hat on sidewise, and this trick he now performed. 
 
 "There was a custom among our ancestors," 
 he began, making an attempt to capture Alida s 
 hand for purposes of chaste salute, but being 
 repelled, he turned toward Van Gaasbeck. 
 
 "Hoot, Mon!" he said, in compliment to the 
 cap. Then the ladies, already warmly wrapped 
 up, put on rubbers in a corner. 
 
 "Be sure they come up high," Volkert called 
 to them; "the snow is knee-deep now and com 
 ing down in chunks. The Eighth Street cars are 
 blocked, and they had to leave a loaded truck in 
 Union Square." 
 
 "Did you see all that from the minaret?" Alida 
 asked across her shoulder.
 
 92 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 "Oh, I didn t climb the minaret to-night; 
 there s too much fun outdoors." 
 
 Outside the atmosphere was like a fog with 
 thickly falling snow, and an east wind from a 
 winter sea swept the corners clean and piled the 
 sheltered places high with drifts. The air was 
 cold and clarified and tasted on the lips like 
 sparkling water. 
 
 Kenilworth Place was so still as the four con 
 spirators stole up the area steps that one could 
 hear the muffled sound of car gongs from Broad 
 way, two blocks distant. But on Fifth Avenue, 
 when they reached it, there were more people than 
 at noon boisterous people who shouted and blew 
 horns and pushed one another into snow-banks; 
 quiet people on their way to mid-night church; 
 colorless people who dislike to be in bed when 
 others are awake. It was as though the year s 
 death were something to be glad of, as though 
 the New Year in its first sinless seconds might 
 bring a benediction. 
 
 Alida thought it considerate of Van Gaasbeck 
 to offer her his arm, and there was a dawning 
 domesticity in the act that amused her, but she 
 resolved to change the order of procession when 
 occasion served. 
 
 "Have you made your New Year s resolu 
 tions yet?" he asked, when they were well 
 under way.
 
 Reddens Laudes Domino 93 
 
 "No, not yet," she answered;"! shall wait for 
 the inspiration of the very last stroke of the 
 bell." 
 
 "But is not that a little risky?" 
 
 "Oh, no, I believe in giving Providence every 
 chance, and besides, there is always controlling 
 one s temper to fall back on. Tell me yours, 
 I m sure they re excellent." 
 
 "One is," replied the doctor, "magnificent. I 
 am going to kill off half my patients." 
 
 "How noble!" cried Alida, with approval; "are 
 you going to poison them?" 
 
 "No, I shall take the surer way of turning 
 them over to whoever wants them. I am resolved 
 to charge so much henceforth that those who 
 don t pay anything will be doubly gratified." 
 
 "But how about those who do pay?" 
 
 "I hope that one of them at least will in 
 future neglect his duties without my aid," said 
 the doctor, and Alida, remembering the thumb 
 of Mrs. Young s domestic, understood. 
 
 Behind them Bell and Edward Volkert laughed 
 like children. He, in his favorite formula, was 
 asking why a last year s almanac was like the 
 harvest moon and kindred idiocies which she 
 found most amusing, for never in her life had 
 Bella Junior felt so young. 
 
 At the elevated station there was something 
 of a scramble and the party lost its personality
 
 94 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 to become part of a migration. It was by sheer 
 good luck that on the arrival of a train they 
 found themselves directly at a gate. 
 
 The car was packed with noisy pilgrims, who 
 clung to straps and to each other and to the icy 
 platform railing, shouting derisive farewell to 
 those who had been left behind. Bell and Alida 
 had seats resigned to them, the doctor found a 
 place to hook his cane, and Volkert, less cautious, 
 swayed alarmingly at every curve. 
 
 The expedition now took on the aspect of an 
 informal social function, in which the burden of 
 entertainment rested impartially on all. Persons 
 with a sense of humor made known their gift, and 
 girls who liked to scream indulged themselves at 
 will. A band of college boys sang something 
 loud and rollicking. The catch words of the day 
 were bandied to and fro. Before Bleecker Street 
 was reached the fat man who kept the door from 
 shutting was forgiven, and at Chambers Street a 
 belated Jerseyite found willing hands to help him 
 through a window. At Rector Street the gate- 
 man made a joke. 
 
 "Trinity! All out for the Pneumonia Ferry!" 
 he cried, whereat the college boys began to 
 cough in chorus. 
 
 The narrow station platform overlooks the 
 churchyard, and here there was a moment s 
 silence, an unconscious catching of the breath,
 
 Reddens Laudes Domino 95 
 
 perhaps, at sight of that last white meadow of 
 New Amsterdam, where the brown church stands 
 mothering her graves at bay. Through the still 
 ness came the first sounds of the chimes: 
 
 "CAPUT APRI DEFERO 
 REDDENS LAUDES DOMINO 
 QUI ESTIS IN CONVIVIO." 
 
 and it was not necessary to know bell Latin to 
 understand the message Feast and praise God. 
 Somewhere on the steps Alida managed to push 
 Bell ahead while she herself held back with 
 Volkert, and as they climbed the slippery street 
 the Arcade is not open late at night anxiety to 
 keep together was the one thought uppermost. 
 Now the scattering stream of people began to 
 condense and close together until movement was 
 no longer a matter of individual volition. At 
 Broadway the crowd extended from the high rail 
 ing of the churchyard to the granite feet of great 
 financial Gibraltars opposite. From Pine Street 
 above to Exchange Place below, and far down 
 Wall Street to the Treasury there was massed the 
 population of a principality. As the moving 
 multitude of faces in the strange violet electric 
 light confronted her, Alida clutched Volkert s 
 arm more tightly. The noise was deafening, for 
 those who were not blowing horns were shouting, 
 singing, laughing, and protesting. Nobody was 
 silent an instant. It was impossible to stand
 
 96 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 still. Eddy and counter-eddy passed each other 
 impelled by resistless, purposeless impulses, and 
 the four were caught and carried southward to 
 the door of the Empire Building, then north 
 again. As they turned they became sensible of 
 the storm, of the great wind bellowing overhead, 
 and the lash of driving snow. Now they were 
 far out in the roadway, with slippery iron tracks 
 beneath their feet, now nearly at the curb, first 
 one side and then the other. A yellow car 
 stopped to disgorge its load of new arrivals, and 
 when it moved again the crowd was driven back 
 upon itself. In a lull the bells were heard once 
 more, far off in the black sky: 
 
 "REDDENS LAUDES DOMINO!" 
 
 Alida heard a gong clang just behind her, and 
 when she turned her eyes were blinded with a 
 flash of yellow light. Somebody called "Look 
 out!" and she was lifted from her feet, pitched 
 forward, buffeted, and hurled somewhere out of 
 danger; and when she breathed again she and 
 Volkert were in the shelter of the granite column 
 of a bank, but Bella Junior and Van Gaasbeck 
 were nowhere to be seen. 
 
 Volkert had been most efficient in his efforts 
 to protect her, but now that she was safe he was 
 laughing. He had acquired a horn and sounded 
 a blast upon it. He had become as a dancing 
 dervish in his sympathy with the tumult. When
 
 Reddens Laudes Domino 97 
 
 Alida asked him what they had better do to find 
 their lost companions, he replied, optimistically, 
 "Oh, just wait here till they come along. Say, 
 ain t this great fun?" 
 
 She did not think it was great fun, but kept 
 the opinion to herself, while her eyes searched 
 everywhere for Bella Junior s red last winter s 
 hat. 
 
 " ADESTE FIDELES. OH COME, ALL YE FAITHFUL, 
 JOYFUL AND TRIUMPHANT." 
 
 Now a new diversion, a new terror, sprang 
 into being spontaneously in several places. 
 Young men formed prisoner s chains, and hands 
 on shoulders single file, headed by a stalwart 
 leader, forced ruthless passage through the 
 crowd. In such a way the college boys went 
 past shouting a music hall refrain, and presently 
 the thing became a craze that even women and 
 girls took up. 
 
 "See that big fellow coming this way?" cried 
 Volkert, in excitement, as a burly Irishman 
 opened a pathway for his train of noisy follow 
 ers. "That s Rooney, captain of the supes at 
 the Alhambra, and that s the Chinese army after 
 him!" 
 
 "I should think they might be Boxers," com 
 mented Alida, not impressed. Her veil had 
 become unfastened, and her feet were numb with 
 cold.
 
 98 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 "OH COME, ALL YE FAITHFUL, JOYFUL AND 
 TRIUMPHANT." 
 
 "Break away there or I ll run yez in," pro 
 claimed the threatening voice of law, but the 
 Chinese army did not quail. Alida shrunk into 
 the shadow, but the eager face of Volkert, 
 stretched forward into the light of an arc lamp, 
 was a shining mark. 
 
 "Say, look what s happened!" cried Mr. 
 Rooney, captain of the supes; "here s the bur 
 gomaster"; and his celestial retinue took up the 
 cry, "Here s the burgomaster! Make a place 
 for Dutch!" 
 
 It was evident that Dutch was favorably known 
 at the Alhambra, and Mr. Rooney made a place 
 for him, which place was that of a human snow 
 plow to make clear the path. In vain did Vol 
 kert protest, using all his strength of lung to 
 plead responsibilities, and all his strength of arm 
 to grasp the granite pillar; the Boxers captured 
 him brutally and bodily and bore him struggling 
 away. 
 
 There follow other breaches of the peace that 
 it is the humor of the crowd to magnify. A 
 hansom cab attempts to gain a favorable position, 
 but the horse s head is caught and turned aside, 
 and the vehicle plunges down Exchange Place, 
 followed by the howls of democracy triumphant. A 
 private omnibus, filled with people from a theater
 
 Reddens Laudes Domino 99 
 
 supper, is ruthlessly sent back amid a shower of 
 snow balls and a bellowing of horns. 
 
 Alida is frightened for the moment, finding 
 herself alone, but presently the hubbub becomes 
 an established condition to which her mind 
 adjusts itself, and indignation against Volkert 
 forbids her to admit herself less safe without 
 him. 
 
 She blamed him more than he deserved for the 
 exuberant spirits of. his friends, and she blamed 
 herself more justly for putting too much confi 
 dence in an untried champion. But the problem 
 now was how to recover Bell. 
 
 They were, in the event of a separation, to 
 have met in a restaurant in Fulton Street, which 
 makes a specialty of wonderful things in chafing 
 dishes at unusual hours; but she did not know if 
 Fulton Street was up or down, and she had not 
 listened to the name. Now, by an unforeseen 
 catastrophe she should not only miss the festivity 
 herself, but by her absence, prevent it altogether. 
 Thus nerved to action, Alida started boldly from 
 her refuge, in quest of a brown overcoat and a 
 red last winter s hat. 
 
 There were a thousand men and women all 
 about her who would stand by her if she should 
 need them, and there were policemen and con 
 ductors who had ever been her willing vassals. 
 Surely the very graves of Trinity would stretch
 
 ioo The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 a point should a Van Wandeleer meet with peril 
 in New York. 
 
 Alida allowed herself five minutes for the 
 search and then, if unsuccessful, she would take 
 a Broadway car and so make close connection 
 with Mary and the cook who would be coming 
 back from midnight mass. The plan, though not 
 attractive, was highly feasible. She tried to 
 shape her course directly for the point where she 
 had last seen her companions, reasoning that 
 there they would also look for her. But though 
 every one was disposed to give what aid was pos 
 sible, the strength of the opposing currents was 
 too great, and when, after persistent effort, she 
 felt her foot upon the curb, she was before the 
 Martyr s Monument, a full block too far north. 
 
 Here there was sudden order, and the police 
 were hurriedly forming people by ranks of four 
 into a long procession, moving slowly southward 
 past the church. What the underlying purpose 
 was Alida could not divine, but the arrangement 
 gave her breathing space and an opportunity to 
 look about. 
 
 They took the people hap-hazard as they 
 came, making random combinations and strange 
 quartettes. It was like a child s game, or a gro 
 tesque cotillion in which a big policeman, white 
 with snow, was leader. Alida s place was next 
 the railing and beside her moved a portly Ger-
 
 Reddens Laudes Domino 101 
 
 man with his wife and child. She felt the little 
 Teuton grasp her skirt and looked down, grate 
 ful for the small friendliness, while it began an 
 endless story in its own peculiar jargon. 
 
 "I guess you think he s got an awful cheek," 
 remarked the mother, apologetically, and when 
 Alida had disavowed the thought she learned 
 that the family resided on the twenty-sixth story 
 of a building of which the father was janitor, and 
 that they looked forward to mounting the stairs 
 to bed. On the left arose the babel of the street, 
 now coming to a hideous climax; on the right the 
 snow fell silently among the graves. She could 
 see a new light just ahead, and judged that the 
 bronze doors of the church had been opened, 
 though the gates must still be closed, for nobody 
 went in. 
 
 " PRAISE GOD FROM WHOM ALL BLESSINGS FLOW, 
 PRAISE HIM ALL CREATURES HERE BELOW." 
 
 As the shuffling regiment advanced in fours the 
 police maintained within its ranks an almost rever 
 ent silence. If one so much as raised a horn 
 some stout official club was there to strike it 
 down. Suddenly this silence became universal. 
 One could almost hear the arc lights sputter in 
 their violet halos, the ice wreaths rattle from 
 black trees upon the graves. Far off a dull roar 
 of steam whistles filled the air as Hoboken called 
 to Harlem that the looked-for moment was at
 
 io2 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 hand, and Harlem passed on the word to Hunt 
 er s Point. From the river came the pipe of 
 tugs, the deep-mouthed bay of liners. Staten 
 Island was awake, Gravesend proclaimed the 
 message seaward. Fog bell and ferry bell, 
 church bell and fire bell swung together, and 
 then the great bronze bell of Trinity, conserva 
 tive to the last. 
 
 Alida was at the church door, standing where 
 a soft light fell across the snow. Far within, 
 across a vista of unlighted nave, a hundred 
 candles burned upon a marble altar. The church 
 was dark and empty. No worshiper knelt 
 there nor was there any sound of song or prayer, 
 only a great light shining in the dark. She 
 caught the iron grille with both her hands to 
 hold her place an instant, and standing thus she 
 heard the first stroke of the hour. The janitor 
 and his family had gone on, others went by 
 behind her, hurrying now for the show was nearly 
 over. Sometimes a hat was lifted, sometimes 
 the sign of the cross was made. Eight, nine, 
 ten now was the time, if ever, for her resolu 
 tions, but she had forgotten them, even Provi 
 dence did not seem inclined to accept her 
 challenge. Eleven there was some one beside 
 her, close beside her. Twelve some one was 
 speaking to her: "I think your friends have 
 gone on, Miss Van Wandeleer. "
 
 Reddens Laudes Domino 103 
 
 "Oh, where are they?" she cried, turning with 
 greater interest in the intelligence than in the 
 speaker, though it was a relief to hear her name 
 from any one. 
 
 "They must be half way down the block by 
 now." 
 
 "Together?" 
 
 "Yes, hand in hand, a lady and a gentleman 
 and a little boy, I think that they were talking 
 German." 
 
 "Oh, I was not with them, I was with " 
 
 Alida paused, realizing all at once that she was 
 speaking to Cousin Caroline s mysterious visitor, 
 he of the long gray coat and heavy shoes. 
 
 "I saw that you were lost," he said, "when I 
 first caught sight of you a few moments ago, then 
 I hoped you had been found, and then I feared 
 you were about to be lost again." 
 
 "No, I have been hopelessly lost for the last 
 half hour," she replied. "I ought to have gone 
 home at once, but I am very glad I didn t. Is 
 not the chancel beautiful? Was it not wonder 
 ful, coming on it so suddenly in the storm?" 
 
 As she turned again toward the lighted altar 
 he stood beside her silently. 
 
 " GOD REST YE MERRIE GENTLEMEN, MAY NOTHING 
 YOU DISMAY." 
 
 "Come," he said, softly, "they are putting 
 out the lights," and the policeman who had been
 
 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 thus far very lenient urged: "There, get a move 
 on, friends, don t block the way." 
 
 "Did you expect to see anything so beauti 
 ful?" she asked him, as they "got a move on." 
 
 "Indeed I did not," he answered; "as the 
 light came out across the snow it was like some 
 thing Hans Andersen might have dreamed but 
 could not write." 
 
 He did not say on what particular object the 
 light had fallen most effectively, and it was not 
 until afterward that she knew. 
 
 "Hans Andersen wrote about tin soldiers and 
 parlor ornaments and green peas," she protested, 
 allowing the conversation to take its course. If 
 one is to converse at all with persons who have 
 not been properly introduced, the subject of 
 fairy tales is as good as another. 
 
 "Yes," he assented, carelessly; "and Snow 
 Queens and that sort of thing." 
 
 "Please help me look for a lady in an old red 
 velvet hat and a gentleman with a brownish 
 yellow overcoat," said Alida, hurriedly. She 
 could not quite remember what the Snow Queen 
 was remarkable for. 
 
 "Did you say the coat is brown?" he inquired, 
 looking about obediently. 
 
 "Yes, yellowish brown; an acquaintance 
 bought it in Edinburg to match his hair; it s 
 very long."
 
 Reddens Laudes Domino 105 
 
 "The hair?" 
 
 "Oh, no; his hair is very short and he has on 
 a funny little cap." 
 
 "Your friend should not be at all hard to find 
 anywhere," he said, encouragingly; "I suppose 
 you did not agree on any particular place of 
 meeting?" 
 
 "Yes, but I don t remember where it was. You 
 see I left it all to Mr. Volkert; I never thought 
 of losing him." 
 
 "And shall I look for Mr. Volkert, too?" 
 
 "I don t care to find him, I would much rather 
 go home alone. I begged him not to speak to 
 the Chinese army and he did everything he could 
 to attract their attention." 
 
 "He behaved very badly," her companion an 
 swered, gravely, "in speaking to any army you 
 disapproved of, especially a Chinese one." 
 
 Alida had had a vague hope that the appear 
 ance of Bella would make a fuller explanation of 
 her difficulties unnecessary, but now she must 
 explain, and the story being somewhat compli 
 cated, lasted until they had reached the corner 
 of Rector Street. 
 
 Here the procession, of which they were part, 
 broke from its order to mingle with the rush for 
 homeward trains. The din had broken out 
 afresh, but with diminished ardor, as hilarity 
 gave place to other emotions. The instinct of
 
 io6 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 self-preservation was asserting itself, the inalien 
 able right to the pursuit of happiness, the sur 
 vival of the most aggressive. The pushing, 
 jostling mass that filled the roadway from the 
 summit to the elevated railway gave a sugges 
 tion of what might be expected at the narrow 
 station steps. 
 
 "Stop a moment," said her companion, hold 
 ing Alida back; "there is generally a better way 
 than following the crowd, and I am sure there 
 must be now, only I don t happen to know it." 
 
 "We might go a little farther down town and 
 you could put me on a Broadway car before it 
 reaches the crowd," suggested Alida, conscious 
 of metropolitan cleverness in the familiar strate- 
 gem. 
 
 "A good idea," he assented; "and when you 
 are safely aboard I can wait for the next car." 
 
 "Please don t do that," she answered, coldly; 
 "I only meant that I was not afraid. With so 
 many people about, nobody knows that all the 
 rest are not one s near relations." 
 
 They trudged on silently for a moment, taking 
 the street to avoid the greater press upon the 
 sidewalk. Presently she said: "We must cross 
 over for the up-town car." 
 
 They had come now to where Exchange Place 
 falls rapidly to Broad Street and the labyrinth of 
 granite canons about the stock exchange. The
 
 Reddens Laudes Domino 107 
 
 crowd had lessened sensibly, though there were 
 many who had taken the same steps to circum 
 vent their neighbors. When the car came it 
 seemed best to allow others to push in, until it 
 was crowded to the steps, and they saw it take 
 its northward way without them. 
 
 "The next one is sure to be quite empty," 
 Alida prophesied, "and it will be here in a mo 
 ment, they run so near together. " She was afraid 
 she had not been very polite about going home 
 alone and in her heart she was glad that she had 
 not to do so. 
 
 Alida s moment passed in silent expectation, 
 but it brought no car. They could see a yellow 
 light far down toward Bowling Green, but it 
 was apparently standing still. Another moment 
 passed, and several more, but the light did not 
 advance. 
 
 "A block!" said some one, and thereupon 
 everybody said, "A block!" And there was the 
 despair of old experiences in the word. 
 
 "How long do you suppose that it will last?" 
 a woman asked, and a man, who could not pos 
 sibly know, guessed half an hour. 
 
 "It s more than likely to be an hour," put in 
 a third, and a fourth more pessimistic still opined 
 that the block would last all night. As he spoke 
 he started hurriedly toward Rector Street, fol 
 lowed by most of the others.
 
 io8 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 "Don t you think it would be foolish for us to 
 go now with the car just in sight?" Alida asked, 
 timidly, for she felt her leadership to have been 
 so far anything but successful. 
 
 "By all means," he replied, in a tone showing 
 clearly that he harbored no resentment. "I re 
 member once wading through a stream up to my 
 neck and coming out not fifty yards from a bridge. 
 Since then I have had an eye for bridges." 
 
 Alida laughed politely. "I suppose that was 
 in the West," she said. 
 
 "Yes, in Colorado." 
 
 "You must find New York very different," she 
 remarked, absurdly glad that he was not dis 
 pleased. 
 
 "A little," he assented, laughing. "So differ 
 ent that I sometimes feel like a Big Horn sheep 
 in a flock of Southdowns. You who know every 
 stone in the city, I suppose, have no idea what 
 it is to be a tender-foot. 
 
 "To be a what?" 
 
 "I said a tender-foot, but that does not mean 
 anything here," he explained. "It is a wild and 
 woolly term for a person who does not know where 
 all the street cars go to." 
 
 "Oh, that is nothing," she answered, with a 
 touch of patronage; "I don t know all the cars 
 myself. Besides," she added, "one gets to know 
 all those little things so quickly."
 
 Reddens Laudes Domino 109 
 
 "There are several little things that I have 
 learned already, Miss Van Wandeleer, " he re 
 joined, mysteriously, and Alida, being tempted, 
 said: "One of them seems to have been my 
 name." 
 
 "Yes, that was the first. But you must not 
 give me credit for more astuteness than I have. 
 A strange lady kindly supplied the information 
 one evening as you were leaving a theater. See, 
 there is Miss Van Wandeleer, she said to one 
 of her party. It was just before Christmas, after 
 The Cat and the Fiddle. " 
 
 "Oh, yes, I saw that with the Brisbanes, " said 
 Alida; "but how did you know whom she meant?" 
 
 "I think she used an adjective," he answered, 
 and Alida was troubled lest the adjective had 
 been "red-haired." 
 
 "I trust that one has not been your only dis 
 covery in names," she rejoined, rather neatly as 
 she thought. 
 
 "Yes, that is all the luck I have had," he an 
 swered, laughing ; "but don t you think it encour 
 aging? Let us move closer to the buildings out 
 of the wind." 
 
 In the more sheltered place he said: "I fancy 
 I shall learn my own name in some such acci 
 dental way. I do not mean, of course, from a 
 stranger, for I shall have to meet people, hun 
 dreds of people, perhaps, before I come across
 
 no The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 the right one. I may even have to go into good 
 society, and if you should see me there I trust 
 you not to betray my sinister purpose." 
 
 "I promise to be most discreet," she an 
 swered, heartily, emboldened by the prospect of 
 other and more conventional meetings. Some 
 how she felt the difficulty to be less hopeless than 
 he had represented it, and the sense of having 
 known him, or some one very much like him, 
 before at some forgotten time came over her 
 with puzzling certainty. Of one thing concern 
 ing him she was thoroughly convinced; he was 
 not in the least afraid of her. 
 
 "And when shall you begin?" she asked. 
 
 "I m not quite sure," he answered; "as yet I 
 know nobody at all." 
 
 They were almost alone now, for the disap 
 pointed patrons of the surface line had gone over 
 in a mass to the elevated party, where there was 
 a revival of horns and singing. 
 
 "I think," said Alida, "that is I am almost 
 sure, that if we were to go down this street a 
 block or two we should find the Fourth Avenue 
 cars, and they would be almost as convenient as 
 the Broadway."
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 THE YELLOW SLEIGH 
 
 The snowstorm which had been an accessory 
 at Trinity, a by-play, a swarm of dancing moths 
 for every light, a contribution of confetti to the 
 carnival, was in Broad Street the one thing evi 
 dent. The market place had submitted to it, 
 cringed to it, feigned death before it. 
 
 It was a city of silence they had come upon, a 
 city of the palaces of sleep, under whose col 
 umned porches the light flakes swirled and clung 
 as in a forest, and where, through gates of bronze 
 and iron, only the wind passed in and out. The 
 buildings fading into mist seemed immeasurably 
 high, the vistas infinite. Somewhere to the 
 south where the old canal had wound toward the 
 river, there was a warm light near the ground, 
 perhaps a sailors drinking shop. Everywhere 
 else the light was green and violet and came from 
 the electric lamps swinging mysteriously in air. 
 To the north the classic fa$ade of the treasury, 
 where Washington in bronze, takes an eternal 
 oath, stood out in strong relief. 
 
 "Really, I don t know where we are," she cried, 
 presently, looking about her in bewilderment.
 
 ii2 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 "I think," he answered, standing still, "that 
 we are in the center of the world, the very heart 
 of everything. But I also think that we had 
 better get away from here as quickly as we can." 
 
 "Yes, I am afraid I was mistaken about the 
 car," she confessed; "but which way shall we 
 go?" 
 
 "Back to Broadway, but not up that hill 
 again." 
 
 "Let us make for Wall Street. I know my way 
 a little now." 
 
 "It was very stupid of me," said Alida, re 
 morsefully; "I must have got Trinity and St. 
 Paul s confused; you know there are a lot of 
 cars very near St. Paul s." 
 
 "It s a perfectly natural mistake," he said, by 
 way of consolation. 
 
 "You don t think that at all," she cried, pro 
 voked by his complaisance. 
 
 "No," he admitted, frankly, "I do not; I 
 think the joke is decidedly on you." 
 
 Alida bit her lip but she felt herself in no 
 position to contest the point, and when he went 
 forward, treading down the snow to make a path 
 for her, she followed meekly. 
 
 "If I go too fast, sing out," he said. 
 
 Presently they crept close to some railings to 
 avoid the drift; then they were forced to plunge 
 through the drift itself and out again. A few
 
 The Yellow Sleigh 113 
 
 steps further on Alida took advantage of a small, 
 wind-swept oasis to retie her veil, and while she 
 did so her companion drew her fur about her 
 ears, with that invincible contempt for small 
 conventions which she had both resented and 
 accepted at their first meeting. The next start 
 brought them into a level waste of snow, knee 
 deep. 
 
 "Keep in my tracks," he cautioned her across 
 his shoulder. 
 
 "I am trying to," she panted; "go right on." 
 
 The next ten feet seemed a hundred yards, the 
 next a furlong, and conditions on ahead were 
 not more promising. 
 
 "How many miles of this trail are you equal 
 to?" he asked, turning to face her. 
 
 Alida was standing still, for the wind had 
 wrapped her skirts so tightly about her that her 
 feet had for the moment ceased to be means of 
 locomotion. He was at her side directly, his 
 large fur glove beneath her elbow for support, 
 while she perforce clung desperately to his arm 
 to keep erect. 
 
 "Please spin me to the left," she said, trying 
 to laugh, though her confidence in herself was 
 ebbing fast. 
 
 She began to tremble and her small teeth 
 clinked together nervously, and there came over 
 her a humiliating fear that she might cry. But
 
 Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 she recalled, with a dismal sense of fellowship, 
 the stories she had heard of people lost in the 
 snow in mountain passes or upon the prairies, 
 even at the Pole, and perhaps it was a memory 
 of their usually cheerful endings which gave her 
 strength. 
 
 "I am not tired in the least, " she declared with 
 outward bravado and an inward suspicion that 
 her voice sounded weak. One disadvantage of 
 a death by freezing is the difficulty in distinguish 
 ing its symptoms from those of perfect health, 
 but Alida, taking the benefit of every doubt, 
 plunged bravely forward, tottered upon the in 
 secure footing, and nearly fell. She would have 
 fallen had he not been there to catch her, and in 
 another moment he had lifted her in his arms and 
 was carrying her to where the path was clear again. 
 
 "Please don t, I am too heavy," she protested, 
 feebly, but he only said: "Hold fast, we ve had 
 enough of this. " 
 
 Once more upon her feet, she found herself 
 above the drifts upon some marble steps blown 
 clear of snow. The distance they had traversed 
 from Exchange Place was scarcely half a block. 
 
 "Are you cold?" he asked, placing himself 
 between her and the wind. 
 
 "I am either very cold or very warm," she 
 said; and added, with conscientious regard for 
 facts, "and I am just the least bit sleepy."
 
 The Yellow Sleigh 115 
 
 "It s pretty late," he answered, "and you have 
 been wandering about an hour; the thermometer 
 is about thirty and I scarcely think " 
 
 "You are making fun of me," she interrupted, 
 throwing back her head defiantly. "You think I 
 have not got a bit of pluck." 
 
 "Don t let us exchange impressions here," he 
 remonstrated; "I should be sorry to hear what 
 you think of me as a pathfinder. When we go 
 on I promise to do better; I must have fancied 
 myself on Laramie Plains." 
 
 "I suppose the girls out there don t mind snow 
 at all," Alida speculated. 
 
 "There are no girls out there," he answered; 
 "just a few savages like me." 
 
 She did not reply to this, but announced an 
 intention to sit down and rest, and he brushed a 
 place for her on the step with his fur glove. 
 
 "You can only have a minute," he cautioned 
 her, "so make the best of it." 
 
 Alida Van Wandeleer, sitting in the early hours 
 of morning beneath the portal of the New York 
 Stock Exchange, allowed herself the luxury of 
 a moment s complete indifference to circum 
 stances. She was very tired and far beyond the 
 hope of overtaking Bell. That young lady was 
 probably now experiencing a purple quarter 
 of an hour on her account. Mr. Volkert was 
 possibly looking for her at the morgue. The
 
 n6 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 very desperation of the situation soothed her. 
 Presently she would make an effort and get back 
 to Broadway, she and the gentleman from Lara- 
 mie. The cars would be running again then, and 
 everything would be well. The snow was never 
 very deep in Kenilworth Place, never deep enough 
 to justify heroic measures. One thing she was 
 determined should not occur again. 
 
 "Wouldn t it be nice if a cab should come 
 along," she remarked, with indolent folly. 
 
 "There is something coming along," he an 
 swered, looking down the street. 
 
 Faint at first but every moment louder came 
 the sound of sleigh bells, large sleigh bells 
 jangled out of tune. They were coming up 
 Broad Street from the river, they were waking 
 the echoes in the granite banks, they were bring 
 ing back the older echoes of Fraunces s Tavern 
 and Federal Hall, and the brick-stepped gables 
 that had flanked the old canal. Pearl Street 
 woke up to laugh and Beaver Street remem 
 bered. At Wall Street a ghostly warden of the 
 gate reached yawning for his pike, for there was 
 a fine for being out so late. The Mills Building 
 looked over at the Stock Exchange, the Telegraph 
 Building to the Morgan Bank. "What new thing 
 have we here," they seemed to say. "To-mor 
 row shall we sell electric traction short?" 
 
 As Trinity was ringing the half hour, the cause
 
 The Yellow Sleigh 117 
 
 of the disturbance came in sight. It was a yel 
 low sleigh, of a pattern long since obsolete, high 
 in the back and curving in the front, where the 
 upturned runners ended in two eagles heads. 
 The motive power was a stalwart horse, that 
 wore, with ostentation, bells enough for two, and 
 the driver was a stout old gentleman so much 
 wrapped up that only his white beard announced 
 his age. He sat alone upon the forward seat and 
 a second seat behind was vacant. 
 
 "Oh, is he not a perfect picture of St. Nicho 
 las!" exclaimed Alida in delight, but her com 
 panion had started forward and was already at 
 the curb. 
 
 "Good evening, sir," she heard him say, and 
 the driver drawing rein replied with a like civil 
 ity. 
 
 "Don t you want to do an act of humanity by 
 taking two belated travelers as far as Broadway?" 
 
 "Well," said the other, cautiously, "I don t 
 know that I do, and I don t know as I do." He 
 appeared to think the antithesis satisfactory. 
 "What are you doing here?" 
 
 "Waiting for you, apparently." 
 
 "I rather like your cheek." 
 
 "It is not cheek, sir, I assure you, but dire 
 necessity. Of course I should not expect you to 
 put yourself out for nothing." 
 
 "What will you give me?"
 
 n8 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 "Anything you ask! Five dollars ten!" 
 
 "Have you got the money?" 
 
 "Yes, see here." 
 
 The old man looked carefully at the tendered 
 fare as though to be certain of its quality before 
 he said: "I don t want anything, my friend, 
 except an evidence of good faith. Whereabout 
 do you live?" 
 
 "We want to go to Kenilworth Place, and if 
 you would drive us to the Broadway cars " 
 
 "They re blocked tied up for keeps. That 
 lady there your wife?" 
 
 "No, and she is very anxious to get home. 
 We were listening to the chimes, you see." 
 
 "So you came down here to hear them better! 
 That s right; that s the way I was once my 
 self." 
 
 The old gentleman chuckled at his own dis 
 cernment. He appeared to be an amiable old 
 gentleman, and not pressed for time. 
 
 "You see, I don t know the streets down town," 
 the other began, in explanation; but Alida, who 
 was now beside him, interrupted. "It is my 
 fault," she put in, justly; "I expected to find a 
 Fourth Avenue car here; it was very foolish." 
 
 "Not a bit of it, young lady," returned the 
 driver, still facetious. "Why most people come 
 to the Stock Exchange expecting to find Elijah s 
 Chariot. If you can put up with my old sleigh,
 
 The Yellow Sleigh 119 
 
 hop in and Sport will hustle you wherever you 
 want to go." 
 
 "I am sure you are very kind, indeed!" ex 
 claimed Alida, hesitating. 
 
 "You must not let us take you out of your 
 way," added her companion. 
 
 "I won t," replied the owner of the yellow 
 sleigh, composedly; "but my way is any way; 
 when a fellow gets as old as me he don t much 
 care so long as it s a good road and good com 
 pany. Young man, if you ll just give them robes 
 a shake you ll find there s plenty more under 
 neath. " 
 
 Alida made herself very comfortable on the 
 high-backed seat, and her host directed the oper 
 ation of tucking her in with paternal interest. 
 
 "A girl will forgive you almost anything t>ut 
 letting her get cold," he said, oracularly; add 
 ing by way of personal information: "I ve got a 
 granddaughter most as big as you." 
 
 "Don t she like sleigh-riding?" Alida asked, 
 divining that interest in his young relative was 
 expected. 
 
 "I guess she likes the riding better than the 
 sleigh," he answered, with another chuckle. 
 "Last winter we went through the park and when 
 some fellows called out, Hello, Santa Glaus, it 
 sorter hurt her pride. Everything all tight back 
 there?"
 
 i2o The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 Everything was all tight, and Sport, who was 
 not a patient animal, started briskly to the sound 
 of his own discordant music. 
 
 "That there is George Washington," remarked 
 the driver, pointing with his whip to the statue 
 on the treasury steps. 
 
 "Yes," assented Alida, who had by this time 
 remembered something of her former visit, "and 
 that is where he took the oath as first President, 
 is it not?" 
 
 "That s right," the old man said, approvingly, 
 "but it ain t all young folks nowadays who 
 know that much. Ever heard of Diedrich 
 Knickerbocker?" 
 
 "Yes, he was Washington Irving." 
 
 "Correct, young lady! Go up head! Now 
 listen; old Diedrich rode once in this very 
 sleigh just where you re sitting." 
 
 "Did he, really?" cried Alida in delight. 
 "Did Washington Irving ride in this sleigh?" 
 
 "That s what he did, and no mistake. He 
 hired it from my own father and drove to Ford- 
 ham; he and old man Paulding. I used to hear 
 they got spilled out coming back, but then you 
 never could depend on pop." 
 
 "How very interesting; I shall remember this 
 drive as long as I live." 
 
 "So ll I, I guess, but then I ain t got more n 
 a century to do it. Ever read the History of
 
 The Yellow Sleigh 121 
 
 New York?" There. is only one History of New 
 York. 
 
 "Oh, yes," said Alida; "I am descended from 
 nearly everybody mentioned in it!" 
 
 To one who did not know Alida the speech 
 might have sounded vainglorious, but in truth 
 she spoke as unaffectedly as one who being on 
 the planet Mars might say, "On Earth I was an 
 Anglo-Saxon. " 
 
 "Is that so!" exclaimed the driver, turning 
 about with interest. "Don t think me curious, 
 but I am; what s your name?" 
 
 Alida told him modestly, and added that her 
 mother was a De Wint. 
 
 "Good names," he said, in comment; "first- 
 class names; you must be related to old 
 Jacobus Van Wandeleer and to Peterus De 
 Wint." 
 
 "Yes, he built a mill near Union Square. It 
 was burned by the Indians in 1639, but of course 
 you don t remember that." 
 
 This was not exactly what she had meant to 
 say, but the laughter of the gentleman at her side 
 prevented explanation, and the other, hugely 
 gratified, laughed too. 
 
 "Don t be too sure of that," he chuckled, "a 
 feller as old as me don t count a hundred years 
 or so as much." 
 
 "I suppose you have lived a long time in New
 
 122 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 York," suggested the passenger, who till now 
 had been content to listen. 
 
 "I don t know as I d call it so long, looking 
 back," the driver answered, "but I ve been here 
 seventy-nine years next March, and every one of 
 them in the old First Ward. " 
 
 "Indeed! there must have been a great many 
 changes in that time." 
 
 "Changes! I call em landslides. I was born 
 and raised a sloop-painter down near Corlears 
 Slip. We used to pull the boats right up most to 
 the kitchen door, and now the river s two blocks 
 off." 
 
 "What happened to the river?" asked Alida, 
 scenting a catastrophe of which she had not 
 heard. 
 
 "They built a bulkhead," he replied, lacon 
 ically; adding, after a moment, "it spoiled the 
 painting business, but it wasn t bad for real 
 estate." 
 
 "Do you live there still?" Alida asked. 
 
 "Yes m, and I ve got the littlest house and 
 pay the biggest rent (figuring space and interest 
 on the value) of any one in the whole town. My 
 folks all want me to go uptown where I can die 
 in style by electric light, and have an elevator to 
 hist the undertaker up, but I tell em I m nothing 
 but a wharf rat and I like the smell." 
 
 They were plunging now through narrow
 
 The Yellow Sleigh 123 
 
 Nassau Street, and Sport, as he broke the road, 
 shook the snow from his large ears, and tossed 
 his head with unfeigned elation. Pine, Cedar, 
 Liberty Streets were passed, then down the hill 
 to Maiden Lane and up again to Fulton Street. 
 
 "That used to be the Vly Market down there 
 by the river," said the sloop painter, indicating 
 the direction generally. "Vly means marsh, or 
 swamp, you know. I ve got no patience with 
 folks who call it the Fly Market; there s no sense 
 in it but, pshaw, them that used to argue over 
 such things is mostly dead now. Some day there 
 won t be anybody left who cares a durn. " 
 
 "Oh, yes, there will," replied the other man. 
 "There will be always somebody to keep alive 
 the old traditions, and to make new ones for 
 themselves. I m sure your father thought the 
 Astor House an innovation, and to-day there 
 are thousands who would mourn to see it torn 
 down." 
 
 "Do you understand that?" Alida asked, turn 
 ing to him in surprise. "Do you understand that 
 any one can really love New York?" 
 
 "I do myself for one," he answered. 
 
 "But how can you?" she protested; "you have 
 been here such a short time, and most strangers 
 think there is nothing in New York but theaters 
 and department stores and noise." 
 
 "Oh, I have come across several other things,"
 
 124 Tfo Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 he said; "besides, please don t forget that my 
 family came from here; I m rather proud of 
 that." 
 
 There was a moment s silence as the wharf rat 
 steered his course around a drift at Ann Street, 
 which feat successfully accomplished, he turned 
 suddenly to ask, "And what might you call your 
 self, young man?" 
 
 "I call myself Anthony Bogardus," replied the 
 young man, laughing that the question should 
 have been so aptly framed. 
 
 "Dutch, too! as Dutch as schnapps. Dominie 
 Bogardus married Anekje Jans. Maybe you ve 
 been down to Trinity looking after your estate. 
 But don t put off your wedding till you get a 
 title Whoa there, Sport! Steady, old man, 
 we re driving the aristocracy I used to know a 
 Bogardus who was a purser on a steamboat. He 
 used to sift the money through a ladder and the 
 company got every cent that stuck. No, come 
 to think of it, his name was Rinkout when a 
 feller gets as old as me he don t remember 
 names. Bogardus was a broad-faced boy with 
 freckles, who would rather fight than eat, and he 
 and I had a set-to once on old Pier Seven." 
 
 "How long ago was that?" 
 
 "Oh, more n sixty years. His name was Tunis. " 
 
 "That was my grandfather s name," remarked 
 the gentleman who called himself Bogardus,
 
 The Yellow Sleigh 125 
 
 "and he had the same attractive qualities. Do 
 you recall what became of your young friend?" 
 
 "No; I lost track of him. He lived uptown 
 somewhere by St. Mark s, and just came down 
 about the docks to look for trouble. His mother 
 was a widow woman, and when she died he 
 struck for out West. That s the way with all of 
 them." 
 
 To Alida, who had been listening with breath 
 less interest, the sudden exit of the broad-faced 
 boy was disappointing, and her views of trusting 
 to chance for information underwent revision. 
 
 "I hope St. Mark s is an exclusive neighbor 
 hood," said her companion, in an undertone. 
 
 "Oh, very," she assured him; "the De Wints 
 all go there when they die." 
 
 "The De Wints owned a bowerie next to my 
 mother s great-great-grandfather, Peter Kier- 
 sted," put in the old gentleman, whose hearing 
 was remarkable. "But some fool ancestor sold 
 it for sixty dollars an acre." 
 
 "We sold ours for beaver skins," rejoined 
 Alida, with a touch of pride. 
 
 "I can t go further back than old Pier Seven," 
 said the descendant of one belligerent, modestly, 
 "but I shall put up a tablet to commemorate that 
 fight." 
 
 "Then you can put me in as winner," chuckled 
 their host.
 
 126 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 "Yes, I will do that with pleasure, only you 
 haven t told us your name yet." 
 
 "Well, you can just put on Douw Aukes; that s 
 good enough to be forgotten by." 
 
 They were turning into Printing House Square, 
 where far overhead the lighted windows of the 
 newspaper offices glowed like a fleet of fire bal 
 loons, and opposite, a misty moon, the clock 
 upon the City Hall indicated dimly that the hour 
 was a quarter to one. 
 
 "Alderman Aukes, I used to be, when old 
 Fernando Wood ran things to suit himself across 
 the way," went on the old gentleman, with a 
 motion of his whip toward the low, white build 
 ing, "but now I m nobody in particular. They 
 did once call me judge, but that was foolishness, 
 because I was defeated; and sometimes the 
 young fellows down in South Street call me the 
 Last of the Knickerbockers." 
 
 "But don t you like to be called that?" Alida 
 asked. 
 
 "Oh, I take it as a compliment all right," 
 answered Mr. Aukes, "but it s sorter sad to be 
 the tail end of even a good thing." 
 
 "Why, isn t that a Third Avenue car?" cried 
 Alida, as a red conveyance shot past. "If it is 
 we had better take the next. It won t be very 
 far to walk across."
 
 The Yellow Sleigh 127 
 
 "What s the matter? Is Diedrich Knicker 
 bocker s seat uncomfortable?" 
 
 "Oh, no, it s perfectly delightful, only " 
 
 "Sure you haven t got anything against the 
 seat?" 
 
 "Oh, no, indeed!" 
 
 "Well, have you got anything against me?" 
 
 "No, Mr. Aukes, you have been so kind I 
 we can never thank you enough." 
 
 "I ain t looking for thanks, I m looking for 
 company," replied the former alderman. "I 
 guess likely this is going to be my last ride. 
 When a fellow gets to be as old as me he can t 
 take chances, so I started out right off as soon 
 as the New Year struck. This makes seventy-six 
 years of sleigh-rides, for I missed the four years 
 of the war, and you ll be the first girl I ever 
 drove out without taking safe back to her own 
 door." 
 
 "I won t be that," Alida answered; "you will 
 have to drive me now to Kenilworth Place." 
 
 "Good!" cried the alderman. "We ll be there 
 before you know it. I ll take you by the road 
 your grandmothers used to go. Wake up, Sport, 
 and shake yourself ; we re off for Bowerie Lane. "
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 IN BOWERIE LANE 
 
 Once on the beaten thoroughfares the old horse 
 seemed to catch the spirit of the night, the large 
 bells jingled deafeningly, and the yellow sleigh 
 plowed through impeding hillocks with the in 
 difference of a Maasdam lugger for a Channel 
 sea. They crossed a labyrinth of tracks, taking 
 the side toward the Hall of Records to avoid the 
 salted, sloppy entrance to Brooklyn Bridge, which 
 opened in long arcades like some pale grotto of the 
 moon peopled with infrequent, hurrying shadows, 
 and so bore northward into Center Street. 
 
 "Tombs, to the left," announced their host, 
 "and even that s rebuilt. You wouldn t think 
 there ever was a lake here, the Collect Pond that 
 Fulton tried his steamboat on. At the outlet 
 used to be the Kissing Bridge I never heard 
 the toll was legally repealed but they ve got the 
 Bridge of Sighs now in its place. A fellow could 
 write a piece of poetry on that if he knew how, 
 couldn t he?" 
 
 "You ought yourself to write a book on ancient 
 customs, Alderman," suggested he whose one 
 authenticated name was Anthony. 
 128
 
 In Bowerie Lane 129 
 
 "Oh, there s too many books already about 
 them, and mostly wrong," replied the ex-official, 
 settling himself comfortably. "I used to follow 
 up the chaps who wrote, but I never got thanked 
 for it. Why, there was a time when folks who 
 wanted to join societies came to me to find out 
 who their grandfathers were. This here is Chat 
 ham Square where Wolfert Webber s tavern used 
 to be." 
 
 "And what was that celebrated for?" 
 
 "Oh, dances, principally. Way back in six 
 teen something when a fellow gets to be as old 
 as me he don t remember dates they used to 
 drive out here from town and in from out of town 
 and have a dance and go home early the earlier 
 the better, it gave them more time on the road. 
 In those days girls weren t in such a hurry to get 
 home. The sleighs were strung out all the way 
 from here to Peter Stuyvesant s pear tree, and 
 now me and Sport s the tail end of the show." 
 
 Perhaps Douw Aukes accentuated the pathos 
 of his position needlessly, an accepted privilege 
 of age, but Chatham Square, even on a snowy 
 night, can stand a little glamour, and it was ex 
 cusable that he should swerve slightly from the 
 course from time to time for picturesque effect. 
 
 The sleigh, now turning sharply to the left 
 again to avoid some bare ground beneath the 
 elevated railroad station, sped up a squalid,
 
 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 crooked street where faint lights, green and red, 
 burned over narrow doorways. From the iron 
 work of overhanging fire escapes swung long red 
 banners bearing Chinese characters, and even 
 through the snowy air came whiffs of incense and 
 strange, intangible odors. A door opened noise 
 lessly and closed again, as though whoever had 
 intended to come out preferred to do so when the 
 street was deserted. Once a yellow shade was 
 drawn aside and a grotesque face peered down 
 at them. 
 
 "This here is Chinatown," said Aukes, "just 
 smell the dope ! To a solitary policeman swing 
 ing his club beneath a lamp he called: "Hello, 
 Joe, are all the side doors closed?" 
 
 "Say, Rip Van Winkle, aren t you dead yet?" 
 returned the official, genially. "Go back to bed 
 and sleep another hundred years." 
 
 "That s Joe Brennan," chuckled Mr. Aukes, 
 but he did not explain why Joe was interesting. 
 "Excuse my talking all the time," he added, "I 
 always was a hand to talk; but then you ain t 
 obliged to listen." 
 
 "Oh, but we love to listen," Alida protested 
 on behalf of both, which was fortunate if true, 
 for Mr. Aukes, when not turned half around 
 toward his guests, was ever on the eve of turn 
 ing, and intercourse between them had so far 
 been confined to very hurried glances of amuse-
 
 In Bowerie Lane 131 
 
 ment. Once when Anthony pulled the robes 
 more tightly about her their hands had met by 
 accident, and once to call attention to some 
 object on the sidewalk she had struck him gently 
 with her muff. When some men, emerging from 
 a cellar, shouted witticisms, inspired by the 
 yellow sleigh, she drew unconsciously a little 
 closer. 
 
 "I m sorry there ain t more to see," said Mr. 
 Aukes, regretfully; "there was a time when it 
 wasn t safe to show yourself here at night." 
 
 When they had passed again beneath an ele 
 vated railway structure, a broad street stretched 
 before them northward, glowing with lights. 
 
 "It is not bedtime here at all events," com 
 mented Anthony. 
 
 "The Bowery sleeps with one eye open," 
 chuckled Mr. Aukes; "she knows her business." 
 And the business of the Bowery appeared to be 
 connected with noise. 
 
 A train flew rattling overhead half hidden in a 
 cloud of steam; an electric plow went down, 
 reaping the whirlwind and leaving high banks of 
 soiled snow in its trail. There were surface cars 
 at intervals, filled with passengers, and many 
 shops, where lights were burning behind iron 
 grilles, had a deceptive air of being open. Some 
 where a New Year ball was going on with music 
 and the rhythmic tread of many feet, but on the
 
 132 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 sidewalk muffled men skulked singly along the 
 narrow, beaten trails. 
 
 The alderman s reminiscences now grew more 
 modern, and he had a new one for every block. 
 Here there had been a mighty fire in the fifties, 
 and Number Nine had flooded Number Four; 
 there Forrest had played the Gladiator as it would 
 never be played again; but driving requiring 
 closer attention, there were intervals wherein the 
 others might create memories for themselves. 
 
 "O, Bowery Gals, are you coming out to-night ? 
 
 Are you coming out to-night, coming out to-night, 
 Oh, Bowery Gals, are you coming out to-night, 
 To dance by the light of the moon ?" 
 
 chanted Douw Aukes, keeping time with his feet 
 in the straw, but his guests did not regard him. 
 The yellow sleigh was comfortable, the sides 
 embraced one protectingly, and the back was 
 high enough to rest the head against. The snow 
 flakes indicated by their size a rise in temperature 
 and the wind had ceased to howl. It was no 
 more the rollicking storm of Trinity, or the in 
 vader of the Stock Exchange. Those were old 
 weathers now, blown seaward, old memories; or 
 perhaps the cushions of the yellow sleigh were 
 soft perhaps snows still unfallen, still to come 
 to earth like the whirling plow and the flying 
 train seen with prophetic vision dimly through 
 the winter mists of Bowerie Lane.
 
 In Bowerie Lane 133 
 
 Alida, snug in her corner, with the white back 
 of Douw Aukes before her and the white back of 
 the large horse, knew that every moment brought 
 her nearer to Peter Cooper on his monument. 
 Behind him was the Institute, to the left the 
 German playhouse that had been a place of other 
 worship; further on the Philadelphia shop; Grace 
 Church, and home. It was all like an amusing 
 though ill-constructed play, with the last act well 
 advanced without some very necessary expla 
 nations. 
 
 "And how did Miss Van Wandeleer enjoy her 
 last dance at the Tavern?" her companion asked 
 her, bending a little just a very little closer. 
 "I thought the waltz would have been more 
 enjoyable had Wolfert Webber been less stingy 
 with his wax." 
 
 "But you forget that waltzing is not invented 
 yet," returned Alida, laughing; "we do not even 
 know the lancers." 
 
 "Well, then, how did Miss Van Wandeleer like 
 the olekooks?" 
 
 Alida shook her head in disapproval. 
 
 "That won t do either," she objected. "I am 
 sure our ancestors did not speak of olekooks. It 
 would be like asking how did you like the 
 salad? Could anything be more greedy? No; 
 they would talk about the people who were 
 there."
 
 134 Tfo Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 "But you see I did not know the people. I 
 am a new arrival from the frontier." 
 
 "Then you should begin at once and tell me 
 your adventures." 
 
 "That would be taking your interest for 
 granted." 
 
 "Oh, if we are to pretend the party, you might 
 pretend that, too." 
 
 "And may I?" 
 
 "Yes, you may pretend that I am very much 
 interested. You may pretend you are my cousin 
 whom I have not seen for years, and that I don t 
 know anything at all about you except that your 
 grandfather had freckles and a bad temper." 
 
 "Yes, a frightfully bad temper," he agreed, 
 and went on, hurriedly, for he, too, felt Peter 
 Cooper imminent 
 
 " Are you coming out to-night, coming out to-night, 
 To dance by the light of the moon? " 
 
 "but my grandfather was progressive in his way, 
 for he sent his only daughter back East to New 
 Amsterdam, to school." 
 
 "To Fulham Priory?" 
 
 "That is only a guess. Well, she stayed there 
 for several years, and just as she was ready to 
 go home back to the cattle ranch she changed 
 her mind and ran away and married a gentleman 
 whose name is still a mystery to the only person 
 who cares one way or the other what it was.
 
 In Bowerie Lane 135 
 
 Afterward, almost immediately, I fancy, they 
 traveled two thousand miles in search of forgive 
 ness, and then, I fear, met with an inferior 
 quality of that article. But it made very little 
 difference after all, for within the year the hus 
 band was killed by falling from his broncho at a 
 round-up, and the daughter died leaving a little 
 boy of no age at all." 
 
 Alida made no comment but listened, leaning 
 forward not to miss a word. 
 
 "That s all," he said, with disappointing 
 brevity. 
 
 "It can t be all; you have not told me why the 
 husband kept his name a secret, or why the father 
 did not like him, or what became of the little 
 boy." 
 
 "He did not keep it a secret at all, only by the 
 time the boy grew old enough to ask questions 
 the grandfather had moved to another ranch in 
 another state. He was a cattle man, you know, 
 and a Boer of the Boers, and always ready for a 
 trek to more promising grounds, and the boy 
 grew up among people who neither knew nor 
 cared who he was. The old man s reasons for 
 disliking his son-in-law were, I have always 
 believed, those of a gentleman who would rather 
 fight than eat, and he was very angry because 
 some Eastern relatives did not take kindly to the 
 match. There were hasty letters, I believe, at
 
 136 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 first, and then he simply dropped the whole con 
 nection. To his grandson he would only say that 
 he was better off without relations, and at such 
 times his language was most forcible. That was 
 the cause of their final quarrel, for the boy did 
 not like being called a maverick, which, by the 
 way, is the name they have on the ranges for a 
 steer without a brand, so he took himself off to 
 the mountains." 
 
 "To Oro City?" Alida s memory was excellent. 
 
 "Yes, there and to other places, until the old 
 man died." 
 
 "What happened then?" 
 
 "Then he this interesting boy found him 
 self the owner of more cows than one person 
 could possibly have use for, so he came East to 
 sell them, and incidentally to find out who his 
 father was. But he found instead a make-believe 
 cousin who was good enough to make believe she 
 was not bored to death." 
 
 " To dance by the light of the moon, " 
 sang Douw Aukes for the twentieth time, a trifle 
 wearily. Then resuming his sidewise position, 
 he said: "Don t let me interrupt, but ain t there 
 more than one house in Kenilworth Place?" 
 
 They had come to Peter Cooper now, and 
 Aukes had memories of Peter, to which the 
 others listened with attention; conscious, per 
 haps, of past neglect in the matter of attention
 
 In Bowerie Lane 137 
 
 and perhaps willing to allow the story to remain 
 part of their game of pretenses. 
 
 At Astor Place they learned the northern 
 boundary of the Vauxhall Gardens, at Clinton 
 Hall, reincarnate, the causes of the Dead Rabbit 
 riots, but all that followed Peter Cooper was by 
 way of anti-climax, and perhaps the old man real 
 ized it, for he cut his narratives shorter and 
 passed in silence several buildings about which 
 he knew interesting facts. 
 
 "Mr. Aukes, " Alida said, when Broadway 
 brought the time of reckoning near, "I am sure 
 you have done a great many kind things in your 
 life, but you have never made any one more 
 grateful than I am for being brought home 
 to-night." 
 
 "Pshaw, that s nothing; when I was a boy we 
 had a society, and the constitution and by-laws 
 were just Lend a Hand. When a fellow s as 
 old as me, he s found out there ain t nothing 
 better than them three words to keep the back 
 bone limber." 
 
 "Thanks, Alderman, we ll paste them in our 
 hats," said Anthony. 
 
 "That s where most folks sticks em," laughed 
 the alderman, "so they can take em off and 
 hang em up just so soon as they get indoors. I 
 used to be a great hand for making up mottoes 
 to paint on canal boats; there s one I know of
 
 138 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 floating round the Erie Basin yet, it s Go it 
 while you re young and keep young. How s 
 that?" 
 
 "I am going to paste that in my hat!" cried 
 Alida laughing, gayly, forgetful that so near the 
 Ruggles stoop a greater measure of caution 
 would have been more prudent. 
 
 "They re building girls on the same old model 
 yet," said Alderman Aukes. "Whoa, Sport, I 
 guess this here is as near as we can get. Young 
 lady, me and Sport present our compliments and 
 wish you both a Happy New Year!" 
 
 As they stood together in the snow once more 
 Alida called, "Good night, Mr. Aukes, a Happy 
 New Year and a thousand thanks," and the old 
 man waved his whip in token that he heard. 
 
 They saw the high back of the old sleigh flash 
 yellow for a moment under a gas lamp, and 
 presently the loud old bells grew faint around a 
 corner. Then it grew still in Kenilworth Place, 
 so still that one might almost hear the snow 
 flakes falling, gently now, magnifying the iron 
 railings into balustrades and outlining the 
 branches of the one ailantus tree against the 
 silent night. Everywhere the surface lay smooth 
 and untrodden except where the yellow sleigh 
 had passed, and where a track led from Fifth 
 Avenue to the Ruggles steps and up to the front 
 door.
 
 In Bowerie Lane 139 
 
 I thought that Bell would be watching for me, 
 said Alida, looking up despairingly at the five 
 tiers of lightless windows, and forgetting in her 
 disappointment to remember that she had no 
 key. It was unusual for Miss Van Wandeleer to 
 come home after nightfall without conventional 
 protection, and she had never been so late that 
 Cousin Caroline had not happened to be awake. 
 For a moment she experienced the chilling sen 
 sation of being shut out. For a moment, until 
 her companion remarked with cheerful satisfac 
 tion: "You are evidently the first of your party 
 to get back after all. There is only one track on 
 the steps and that was made by a man." 
 
 "Oh, are you sure?" she asked, in great relief. 
 
 "Yes, he was a young man and in a hurry, for 
 he ran up two steps at a time, and the trail can 
 not be five minutes old." 
 
 "It must have been Mr. Volkert. " 
 
 How true were these deductions presently 
 appeared, for even as they spoke the front door 
 flew wide open and Edward Volkert dashed vio 
 lently out. 
 
 "Thank God!" he cried, with histrionic fervor 
 at catching sight of her; "I have been well nigh 
 mad!" 
 
 "Please don t shout so, you will rouse the 
 neighborhood," she said, ungratefully. "What 
 is the matter?"
 
 140 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 "Matter! I thought you lost forever." 
 
 "It was hardly your fault that I am not," she 
 answered, coldly. 
 
 "Don t blame me for that till I explain," he 
 went on, breathlessly."! could not get away at 
 first, and then the cops got hold of us and took 
 us to the Church Street station, where they let 
 us go again. I ran right to the elevated and saw 
 Van Gaasbeck and Miss Ruggles getting on a 
 train, and I thought I saw you with them until 
 at Eighth Street they got out alone. Then I 
 dodged them and came here to see if you were 
 home by any chance. I went to your room and 
 tapped on the door, but you were not there, so I 
 was going back to Trinity " 
 
 "Where is Bell now?" Alida interrupted, 
 shortly. 
 
 "Somewhere between here and Eighth Street 
 station. We were stalled three times coming up. 
 They ll be along directly." 
 
 "Edward Volkert, " said Alida, frigidly, "do 
 you want me ever to speak to you again?" 
 
 "I know I don t deserve it," he admitted, with 
 deep contrition. 
 
 "No, you don t, but I shall overlook this even 
 ing, and for the present I shall not say a word to 
 Bell of what has happened ; she has enough to 
 worry her just now." 
 
 It is to be hoped that Volkert was duly grate-
 
 In Bowerie Lane 141 
 
 ful. Under the circumstances he could do noth 
 ing less than stand apart discreetly. 
 
 "Do you think that I am doing right?" Alida 
 asked of the other man who waited. "I only 
 want to have a chance to think things over." 
 
 "You are right to drop one factor altogether," 
 he replied; "to-morrow St. Nicholas and his 
 sleigh will be a dream. To-morrow the Snow 
 Queen will have melted." 
 
 "Suppose she does not want to melt," whis 
 pered Alida, impulsively. Here on the Ruggles 
 stoop, with Edward Volkert standing guard, she 
 felt a desperate wish to hold the dream a little 
 longer. 
 
 "Won t you let me help you?" she added, 
 recklessly. "Won t you let me lend a hand ?" 
 
 "Only to say good night," he answered, laugh 
 ing. For a moment her small, damp glove lay 
 snugly in his large, furry one. Then he had lifted 
 his hat and was plunging through the snow 
 toward Broadway. 
 
 "Say, who is your friend?" inquired Edward 
 Volkert. 
 
 "Open the door," commanded Alida, none 
 too graciously, "and do not speak to me again 
 to-night."
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 STERILIZED MILK 
 
 Miss Caroline De Wint, upon the first day of 
 the year, in preparing the Annual Report of the 
 Sterilized Milk and Linen Lending Guild, found 
 herself confronted by a problem; should the 
 division of succor by recipients result in quarts 
 or babies? 
 
 "I should think," suggested her god-daughter, 
 who was assisting, "that the milk ought to go 
 into the babies." 
 
 "No," argued Cousin Caroline, thoughtfully; 
 "you are wrong, because you see oh, here it is 
 on another piece of paper. Miss Toll has figured 
 it all out exactly: Average daily distribution, 
 fifty-six quarts and one pint. Average of indi 
 viduals relieved, fifty-six and one-half! 
 
 "I suppose the pint was for the half indi 
 vidual," observed Alida, whose mind was not 
 upon statistics. 
 
 They were seated on either side of a marble- 
 topped table, before the soft coal fire in Cousin 
 Caroline s room. And Cousin Caroline s bed, 
 obligingly upon its hind legs so to speak, having 
 assumed the semblance of a preposterous cabi- 
 142
 
 Sterilized Milk 143 
 
 net, the room had taken on the character of a 
 parlor. 
 
 "I never had the slightest faculty for figures," 
 remarked the treasurer of many guilds, closing 
 her portfolio with a sigh of satisfaction. "When 
 my accounts are short I always make them bal 
 ance with an anonymous contribution, but when 
 they come out the other way I don t know 
 what to do. Give me the minute book, Alida, 
 please." 
 
 Alida rose and fetched the thin, black volume. 
 
 "How did you ever get along at school?" she 
 asked, without resuming her seat. 
 
 "Oh, well enough; we used to sing the multipli 
 cation table to Anglican chants, and there was 
 always some girl in the class who liked doing 
 sums and let the others copy. They did not 
 then expect young ladies to be book-keepers." 
 
 "That was at Fulham Priory, was it not?" 
 
 "Yes, I never went to any other school. Your 
 mother used to boast that at Miss Van Hoeven- 
 burg s the girls knew fractions, but I must say I 
 have never perceived any evidence of it since. 
 Just look for the meeting of December loth and 
 see if the Linen Committee made a report." 
 
 Alida found the place and looked. "There is 
 nothing here like a report," she said. 
 
 "Well, there should be. I must have forgot 
 ten to write it down, but never mind, I ll ask
 
 144 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 Miss Toll. We can t do anything more just 
 now." 
 
 Alida, resting the book upon the table, turned 
 the leaves slowly, as though she sought for some 
 thing between them, while her godmother debated 
 in silence how best the next half hour might be 
 employed. 
 
 "I suppose you were not at all interested in 
 what happened at Fulham after you graduated?" 
 Alida speculated, idly. "I suppose you never 
 went back there again?" 
 
 "Yes, I spent a summer there, the summer fol 
 lowing my father s death. I loved the old place 
 and the old ladies, and they were glad to have 
 me." 
 
 "Of course the pupils were all at their homes 
 in summer." 
 
 "No, not all; there were always one or two 
 who lived too far away to go home." 
 
 "From the South, I suppose?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "And from the West?" 
 
 "I really can t remember where they were 
 from. What difference does it make?" 
 
 "I was only going to ask you," said Alida, 
 boldly, "if by any chance there was a girl there 
 called Bogardus. " 
 
 She was conscious that her attempt to lead up 
 naturally to the question had been clumsy, and
 
 Sterilized Milk 145 
 
 was prepared to have her reasons for it asked, 
 but she was not prepared to have her godmother 
 turn sharply upon her. 
 
 "I should think, Alida, that you would know 
 better than to mention that name to me," said 
 Miss De Wint. 
 
 "But really, Cousin Caroline," Alida protested, 
 with contrition, "I had no idea " 
 
 "In future," returned the other, shortly, "you 
 had better have an idea before you ask stupid 
 questions." 
 
 Alida closed the minute book, and going to 
 the window, stood looking out. At the cost of 
 giving her godmother offense she had obtained a 
 scrap of information, and she had also learned 
 that whatever there might be to know even she 
 was supposed to know it. But the obvious dis 
 like of Cousin Caroline for the former pupil could 
 hardly be due entirely to the loss of a geog 
 raphy. For a wild moment she thought it might 
 be her duty to make the knowledge known to one 
 whom it concerned, but it was a very wild moment 
 and quickly past. 
 
 "I think I shall go out a little way," she said; 
 "the weather is superb." 
 
 "I should, by all means, if I were you," re 
 turned her sponsor, tartly. "Of course it is New 
 Year s Day, and the streets will be filled with 
 disreputable characters as well as being blocked
 
 146 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 with snow, but those are small matters to a 
 modern young lady. It is a pity you have not a 
 club, Alida, you might " Cousin Caroline 
 hesitated for a fitting climax "you might play 
 billiards." 
 
 "Oh, New Year s is just like any other day 
 now," replied Alida, turning from the window, 
 "only there are fewer people in the street. I 
 shall walk up Fifth Avenue on the quiet side, and 
 perhaps drop in to tea with Bessie Brisbane." 
 
 "The next thing, I suppose, you will be having 
 a cowboy bring you home," rejoined Miss De 
 Wint, with spirit. Which shot, though fired at 
 random, struck near enough to cause the target 
 some disquiet. 
 
 Half an hour later Alida, descending, per 
 ceived Edward Volkert in the lower hall. His 
 day had been spent in mastering the contents of 
 the newspapers, more especially those advertise 
 ments promising largest returns for the smallest 
 investments, which would seem a harmless pas 
 time for one possessed of less than one dollar in 
 available assets. 
 
 At sight of Miss Van Wandeleer he ran up 
 several steps toward her and stood barring the 
 way with extended arms. 
 
 "Toll!" he announced, "one yes or no, 
 which was a game they had played before and 
 involved a monosyllable in answer to any ques-
 
 Sterilized Milk 147 
 
 tion the toll-keeper might propound, under a 
 heavy penalty for refusal. 
 
 "But I am not going to speak to you," she 
 protested. "I have not forgiven you yet." 
 
 Edward Volkert laughed a scornful laugh. 
 
 "Oh, yes, I know I ought to be ashamed of 
 myself," he said, "but you were very much 
 obliged to me last night, all the same." 
 
 "Let me pass immediately!" 
 
 "Toll!" 
 
 "Well, what is the question?" 
 
 "Was that Bradish Osterhout who brought you 
 home?" 
 
 "No!" 
 
 The answer was emphatic, more so than she 
 had intended it to be, and Volkert starting back, 
 exclaimed: "Whew! Baby s got a tooth!" and 
 in revenge he sang, as he went up the long stairs, 
 a little rondel of his own composing, reserved for 
 purposes of annoyance: 
 
 "Oh, if sweet Alida 
 Would let me sit beside her! 
 Oh, if she would hide her 
 Little hand in mine." 
 
 Which was undeniably rude in Mr. Volkert, and 
 brought forth from an opened door the merited 
 rebuke: "Edward, be silent!" 
 
 Mrs. Valentine Van Wandeleer sat in her favor 
 ite chair before the parlor fire, the Times folded
 
 148 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 into a hand screen neglected on her lap. Her 
 dainty cap was of lace in honor of the day, and 
 old lace at her throat and wrists replaced the 
 customary linen bands. She was a woman who 
 had learned the art of looking younger than 
 she was by dressing older than she need, and 
 to-day she had put on her finery with special 
 thought, for it was with her the festival of All 
 Souls. 
 
 Decanters stood upon the piano and beside 
 them in a lordly dish some long cakes molded 
 into patterns and savory with caraway seed. But 
 though some of these had been broken and 
 several of the glasses used, it was from the 
 embers that most of Josephine s callers had 
 made their bows. To her these visitors had" 
 been the real ones and the ghosts were they who 
 had sipped sparingly of the waning sherry of 
 Chancellor De Vos. 
 
 Near the decanters and the heavy silver dish 
 there rested an exceptionally large bouquet of 
 orchids, most legibly inscribed to Mrs. Van Wan- 
 deleer herself; for K. O. K. began the year with 
 aspirations to a widening market. 
 
 "Mother," observed Alida, taking a seat upon 
 the piano stool and addressing herself to the ulti 
 mate bow of lace upon her mother s cap. "I 
 don t suppose any one else will be here, do 
 you?"
 
 Sterilized Milk 149 
 
 "No, no one else," sighed Mrs. Van Wande- 
 leer, softly. "There is no one else to come. 
 We had two less than last year, did we not?" 
 
 "Yes, two. Judge Gansyourdt and old Mr. 
 Van der Mark. Last year he brought a box of 
 candy, you remember." 
 
 "Yes, I remember. He had done so for twenty 
 years. He was a faithful friend, though one of 
 the stupidest men I ever knew. Your father 
 could not bear him." 
 
 Alida broke off a large crumb of New Year s 
 cake and ate it in respectful silence in memory 
 of the dead. Presently, recalling the pleasures 
 of the morning, she asked: "Did you notice that 
 Doctor Roorda had on a new cravat? He was 
 really quite presentable. And Colonel Vander- 
 lyn wore a pink carnation, but when he put on 
 his overcoat he mistook it for a button and ruined 
 it completely. I tried to make him accept an 
 orchid in its place." 
 
 Mrs. Van Wandeleer took up the Times and 
 rearranged its folds. 
 
 "Alida," she said, with greater force than it 
 was her habit to put in words, "what do those 
 orchids mean?" 
 
 "I really do not know; no one uses the lan 
 guage of flowers any more." 
 
 "You understand me very well, Alida; what 
 does Mr. Osterhout mean?"
 
 150 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 Miss Van Wandeleer moved uneasily upon her 
 moving seat. 
 
 "I think / might ask you that question, 
 mother," she replied, with an attempt at levity; 
 "they were not sent to me, you know." 
 
 In the silence that followed Chancellor De Vos 
 looked sternly at the mantelpiece, and the Lady 
 with a Rose attributed to Sully simpered back. 
 
 "Is his mother quite impossible?" asked Mrs. 
 Van Wandeleer at length. 
 
 "I have only seen her once. She is fat and 
 furry, and says My dear to every one. I am 
 sure you would hate her." 
 
 Mrs. Van Wandeleer sought counsel in the fire. 
 
 "Sometimes we are given strength," she mur 
 mured, piously. 
 
 "I had some idea of taking a little walk," ven 
 tured Alida, after an interval, and her mother, 
 not being aware that the idea had become suffi 
 ciently well defined to prompt a tailor-made cos 
 tume, and Bazet s latest event in hats, replied: 
 "I thought you were to help your godmother." 
 
 "We can t do anything more until Miss Toll 
 comes back, she has the minutes in her head 
 besides Cousin Caroline and I have had a slight 
 misunderstanding. 
 
 "A misunderstanding? What about?" 
 
 "I scarcely know. I asked her if she had ever 
 met a lady named Bogardus. "
 
 Sterilized Milk 151 
 
 "Oh, Alida, how could you have been so in 
 considerate?" 
 
 "But I did not know I was inconsiderate. 
 Please tell me why she did not like to be asked. " 
 
 Mrs. Van Wandeleer held up the Times before 
 the fire. 
 
 "I do not think we should speak of Caroline s 
 affairs behind her back," she answered, quietly. 
 
 "But, mother, how am I ever to know?" 
 
 "There is nothing to know, child, nothing that 
 concerns you in the least, nothing that was not 
 over and done with before you were born." 
 
 "But, mother, I must know," exclaimed Alida, 
 rising and crossing to confront her mother. 
 Standing beside the high, black mantelpiece, with 
 the firelight full upon her, she looked down at the 
 smaller woman in the arm-chair, a figure of deter 
 mination. 
 
 "Mother, I must know," she said again. 
 
 "Then ask your Cousin Caroline, and she will 
 tell you what she thinks best. I won t discuss 
 it. Run along now, dear, and take your walk. 
 I have a headache." 
 
 Providence, who has given the porcupine its 
 quills, the feeble snail its shell, had given 
 Josephine her headaches. 
 
 "I m sorry, mother," said Alida, softly. 
 "Can I do anything?" 
 
 "No, child, I only want to sit and close my
 
 152 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 eyes Felice makes very pretty hats you are 
 more like your poor father every day I wish it 
 had been anything but underwear." 
 
 Alida, pausing in the hall to contemplate her 
 hat with saddened satisfaction, wondered if any 
 body in the world was blessed with such unreason 
 able relatives as herself. They blamed her for 
 not knowing things they would not tell her, and 
 they refused to answer questions on the ground 
 that she could have no concern in events anterior 
 to her birth. How, under such circumstances, 
 was it possible to lend a hand!
 
 CHAPTER X 
 THE BLACK SLEIGH 
 
 Miss Van Wandeleer s reflections, as she 
 climbed the sunny slope of Murray Hill, were of 
 the nature to give brightness to her eyes and 
 firmness to her step. The avenue was aglow 
 with light and life and color, and the sparkling 
 air vibrated with the sound of sleigh bells. 
 Vehicles of every cast adaptable to runners 
 passed in two lines between high banks of 
 snow, and for once the aimless holiday wan 
 derers along the sidewalks had something to 
 amuse them. 
 
 Alida had abandoned the idea of lunching with 
 the Brisbanes, and resolved to make the Brick 
 Church the limit of her walk. But at the Thirty- 
 fifth Street corner a sleigh more gorgeous than 
 the rest stood drawn up against the curb. 
 
 It was a high, black sleigh, with high, black 
 horses and pyramids of bells and streaming stan 
 dards of red horse hair. Two menials in bear-skin 
 capes sat motionless upon the box, and behind 
 them Bessie Brisbane reclined alone in regal 
 splendor. 
 
 A pretty girl was Bessie, with fine black hair
 
 154 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 and large, blue, Irish eyes, a Kerry maid in sables, 
 and they became her hugely. 
 
 "Hello!" exclaimed Alida, coming up. "You 
 look like the Queen of Sheba in all her glory." 
 
 "Do I?" replied Bessie, showing pretty teeth; 
 "well, I feel much more like Burnheimer s three- 
 dollar pants. This band wagon is B. J. slast 
 addition to the plant. Is it not fierce?" 
 
 Alida,. with her head upon one side, affected to 
 examine the equipage critically. 
 
 "I think it beautiful," she said. "Quite the 
 prettiest sleigh I ever saw. Is it new?" 
 
 "Yes, new and smelling of varnish like every 
 thing we have. Get in, you are an answer to 
 prayer. I have been waiting here for any one I 
 knew. B. J. bought this yesterday, and as usual 
 he is trying it on the dog. Get in and help me 
 be stared at." 
 
 Alida hesitated, but one of the attendant 
 grenadiers, now on the sidewalk, held back a 
 corner of the robe with automatic reverence. 
 She was a little tired from the walk, and Bessie 
 looked provokingly comfortable. Besides there 
 was really no valid reason why she should not 
 get in. 
 
 "Drive up the avenue," commanded Miss Bris 
 bane, urbanely; "unless you have a more original 
 suggestion," she added, to her guest. 
 
 Alida shook her head, contentedly. "Is not
 
 The Black Sleigh 155 
 
 the footman new, too?" she asked, surveying an 
 unfamiliar back. 
 
 "Yes, and we have to call him Henry. The 
 coachman is Moneypenny, which is bad enough, 
 but this one s name is Love; we never have any 
 luck in servants names. Alida, what a stunning 
 hat! I rather think you and I could pass most 
 anything on the pike to-day." 
 
 "I am afraid we are a little bit conspicuous," 
 rejoined the other, doubtfully. 
 
 "Yes, we re right in the limelight. Do you 
 mind?" 
 
 "No, but don t you think we might go into the 
 Park?" 
 
 "Yes, when we get there. We shall have just 
 time for the obelisk and back. You are coming 
 home with me to tea, you know." 
 
 "Oh, no, I am not." 
 
 "Oh, yes, indeed you are. B. J. has a holiday 
 to-day, and don t know what to do with it, and 
 there will be some other men, with nobody but 
 mama and me to make things go, and I m no 
 good on earth with father." 
 
 "I never knew a girl less afraid of her 
 father." 
 
 "Oh, I m not afraid, but he sees through my 
 humble efforts, and to-day I hope to be especially 
 impressive. " 
 
 "Who is to be there?"
 
 1^6 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 "To begin with, Leigh- Watkins. Do you 
 know him?" 
 
 "No, I have never met him you mean the 
 clergyman, I suppose?" 
 
 "Yes, he is mother s last venture in futures. 
 The vicar of St. Jude the Obscure, and between 
 ourselves, just a shade more Leigh than Watkins. 
 Note that he needs snubbing, and needs it badly; 
 but he is merely a prelude." 
 
 "A prelude to what?" 
 
 "To a party with a title," said Bessie, slowly 
 and impressively. 
 
 "Your little diplomat, I suppose Vich is the 
 reech von? You remember his delicate question 
 when some one brought him up to both of us to 
 gether?" 
 
 "Was he not a little beast!" assented Bessie, 
 willingly. "Since then I have made him bite the 
 dust for that on more than one occasion. How 
 ever, this is not to be the diplomat to-day, but a 
 lord a real, live lord with a coronet on his 
 trade-mark, and a motto in bad Latin. You 
 know Erbert Owlet, of course?" 
 
 "Yes, I have met Mr. Herbert Howlet. He 
 danced with you at " 
 
 "He called it dancing," corrected Bessie, 
 sadly; "well, an uncle of his, Lord Wensdale 
 by name, who has a way of doing unexpected 
 things, arrived here yesterday on the Oceanic
 
 The Black Sleigh 157 
 
 without taking the trouble to inform his nephew 
 that he even thought of coming. We had already 
 invited Erbert to drop in to tea to-day, and last 
 night he called to ask permission to bring Uncle 
 Wen along. You see it is all quite accidental 
 and unpremeditated, and not in the least a visit 
 of inspection. There is somebody trying to bow 
 to you." 
 
 "Yes, Mrs. Norris. What do you mean by 
 inspection?" 
 
 "I mean I am not to be looked over to see if I 
 will do." 
 
 "I should hope not," indignantly. 
 
 The sleigh, taking its place in the long line of 
 vehicles, trucks, stages, hansom cabs, and other 
 sleighs, moved slowly, but they had gone a block 
 before Bessie spoke again. 
 
 "Don t you think it s fun to watch the people?" 
 she said, as if in explanation of her silence, and 
 added, as a second thought, "I want your candid 
 opinion of Mr. Howlet after lunch." 
 
 "Then there is to be an inspection?" 
 
 "Yes, in a way, but I have no idea that he will 
 do." 
 
 "Do, for what?" 
 
 "Ballast. That is what the Brisbanes stand 
 in need of just at present. We are, as you may 
 have noticed, slightly top-heavy, like this sleigh, 
 and some day, if we are not careful, we shall have
 
 158 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 an upset. We go on piling things too high. We 
 put fur collars on our fellow creatures and call 
 them our servants, but we know better and they 
 know better and the horses know better. Some 
 day I shall meet the eye of Mr. Moneypenny and 
 laugh, or B. J. will offer the butler a cigar as he 
 often threatens to do, and if it ever comes the 
 slump will be complete." 
 
 "But Mr. Howlet?" 
 
 "Oh, he is just a possibility, like the statues 
 B. J. has sent home to see how they will look in 
 corners," said Miss Brisbane. A passing sleigh 
 had tossed some snow into her lap, and as she 
 spoke she made a little ball of it and looked 
 about for a mark at which to throw. "But he is 
 delightfully heavy," she went on; "he has not 
 the slightest sense of humor; I don t believe he 
 even sits down to laugh at himself when alone." 
 
 "That at least is something in his favor," 
 Alida admitted, rather reluctantly, for she had 
 never found Mr. Howlet s heaviness attractive. 
 
 Miss Brisbane dropped the snowball to the 
 roadway and looked with affectation of distress 
 upon her moistened glove. Evidently something 
 had occurred to disturb Bessie s equanimity or 
 she would never have wasted a snowball. 
 
 "Would you really, seriously think of marrying 
 an Englishman?" asked Alida, with a look of 
 searching inquiry toward her friend.
 
 The Black Sleigh 159 
 
 "Don t put it quite so baldly," answered 
 Bessie. "I might marry an ancestral seat, or a 
 position in the county, if he did not stutter." 
 
 "I never heard you hint at anything like that 
 before." 
 
 "Oh, no, it s quite a new idea; it came to me 
 in the picture store." Miss Brisbane flushed as 
 she said this and fixed her eyes upon the back of 
 Moneypenny. "I was looking at my own por 
 trait in the Caporal exhibition, and somebody 
 behind who did not know me, said: And who is 
 this intended for? Miss Brisbane, answered 
 the attendant. What Brisbane? Who are they? 
 I will give you twenty guesses at the answer." 
 
 "The Brisbanes of Park Avenue?" guessed 
 Alida. 
 
 "No, nothing of the sort. Plain people from 
 Peoria ! We have been running the show two 
 years, regardless of expense, and that is where we 
 stand in the estimation of a picture store man!" 
 
 "But that is absurd " 
 
 "Perfectly absurd and perfectly true. They 
 call us plutocrats if we have more than twenty 
 people at dinner, and when things go wrong in 
 Wall Street we are held responsible. But be 
 tween times we are P. P. P s. " 
 
 "I m sure I should not mind what I was 
 called," announced Alida, stoutly. 
 
 "But I am not like you, I have no traditions
 
 160 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 to fall back on; I m not a Knickerbocker. It is 
 better to have ancestors who gave dinners and 
 had servants and carriages." 
 
 "Bessie, you are talking nonsense," Alida 
 interposed. "My ancestors did not have car 
 riages, they had high-backed, yellow sleighs, and 
 danced at Wolfert Webber s Tavern, and came 
 home by moonlight across the Kissing Bridge. 
 She checked herself, blushing under cover of the 
 frosty air, and finished. "We were plain people 
 enough in those days, I am sure. Your tradition 
 theory is absurd." 
 
 "Oh, no, it s not," persisted Bessie, leaning 
 back comfortably among the furs. "At least it 
 gives you that sense of having been here first 
 that puts newcomers at a disadvantage. Then, 
 too, you are born knowing things we have to 
 learn. The other day my small brother disgraced 
 us by assuming the Hanging Gardens to be 
 places of luxurious execution for the kings of 
 Babylon, which shows the effect of lynching as a 
 prenatal influence. Your little brother would 
 never have said such a thing." 
 
 "I am afraid he would have been too stupid," 
 Alida answered, laughing. 
 
 "Not at all; if he had been born on the prairies 
 he would have taken to civilization like a duck 
 to water. He would have even invented it for 
 himself."
 
 The Black Sleigh 161 
 
 "Do you think so, really?" cried Alida, becom 
 ing suddenly interested. "Do you think a per 
 son can live all his life in all sorts of out of the 
 way places and yet be kind and noble and con 
 siderate?" 
 
 "I don t think those are qualities of civiliza 
 tion," answered Bessie, turning up her nose. 
 "I mean such things as knowing whether a pic 
 ture can be worth ten thousand just because it 
 does not look like you." 
 
 They had crossed the Plaza, and leaving the 
 slower pageant of the avenue, had become a 
 link in the flashing, many-colored chain that 
 wound up hill and down and in and out between 
 the elm trees. Borne on a keen west wind the 
 light snow rose, hung sparkling in the sun, and 
 fell in playful sifting showers. Bells, bells were 
 everywhere. The pulses beat with them, the 
 thought danced to the music of them. 
 
 "Oh, Bessie!" cried Alida, "aren t you glad 
 you are alive!" 
 
 "Yes, rather," said Miss Brisbane, without 
 enthusiasm; "but tell me something of that 
 bridge you mentioned." 
 
 "Did you drive down to hear the chimes last 
 night? You said that you were going." 
 
 "Yes, but we did not hear a chime. Everybody 
 was cold and cross, and we had a frightful time get 
 ting home. I envied the people on the sidewalk.
 
 162 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 "Then you were envying me without knowing 
 it." 
 
 "I might have known you would be there," 
 said Bessie, laughing, "just to see that things 
 were started properly in New Amsterdam. I 
 suppose you Dutch have mystic rites among 
 yourselves that we outsiders know nothing 
 of." 
 
 Across the Meadow and the Mall snow lay in 
 unbroken drifts. The sky-line of tall buildings 
 to the west was like a mirage city in a desert 
 filled with strange, flying caravans. From every 
 where these came with flashing red and gold, and 
 the panting of horses and the mad merriment of 
 bells. The footways were alive with people; 
 men and girls, wrapped warm and booted heavily, 
 spurred on by tingling blood to cover distances, 
 ambitious only that something should be left 
 behind and something reached that lay before; 
 small brownies in hoods and leather gaiters, 
 leaping and rolling in the snow like mastiff pup 
 pies; old men in fur, who took snow from the 
 boughs of evergreens and tasted it, closing old 
 eyes a moment to remember. 
 
 Miss Brisbane was unusually silent. When the 
 subject of the chimes was dropped she did not 
 suggest another, and Alida, while awaiting devel 
 opments, contented herself with an occasional 
 glance toward her friend.
 
 The Black Sleigh 163 
 
 There was a hardening of the lines around 
 Bessie s pretty mouth that she had never seen 
 there before, that she had never looked for there 
 before, and it dawned upon her dimly that the 
 friendship both had fancied firmly founded was 
 after all a chance acquaintance of the road; that 
 for every step of hers Bessie had journeyed seven 
 leagues, and that their destinies lay far apart. 
 Alida was in her orbit. As she was now another 
 year would find her, morning or evening star in 
 the appointed time, while Bessie moved on to 
 some distant perihelion. 
 
 "Bessie," she said, a little anxiously, "don t 
 you think you would miss all this dreadfully if 
 you were to go away from it?" 
 
 Miss Brisbane laughed and cast a comprehen 
 sive glance about at the throng of serious people 
 suddenly transformed to merrymakers; at the 
 obelisk in the Sahara of a night; at the white 
 city with its thousand wings of steam ready to 
 fly again; at the sleigh that had been sent home 
 yesterday. 
 
 "Of course I should be sorry," she replied; 
 "but then I was sorry to leave Peoria. I am like 
 poor papa, I only want the things I have not got. 
 Turn here, Henry, and drive straight home. 
 Now I should like to buy that picture store and 
 burn it down! I d like to buy that museum over 
 there and burn it down."
 
 164 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 "The Metropolitan?" Alida cried, touched on 
 a nerve of civic pride. 
 
 "Don t be alarmed, I d build another twice as 
 big, which shows that I am becoming idiotic." 
 
 "It does," Alida answered, frankly, "and that 
 you are what my godmother used to say of me 
 when I would not eat string-beans both wicked 
 and ungrateful. I don t know any one who would 
 not change places with you." 
 
 "Except Alida Van Wandeleer?" 
 
 "Oh, don t count me. I would not change 
 to-day with any one who ever lived," replied 
 Alida, laughing gayly. 
 
 "One might suppose that you had crossed that 
 bridge you know so much about," observed Miss_ 
 Brisbane, sagely, and the conversation after this 
 grew rational.
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 THE MARK OF THE DOLLAR 
 
 Ben Jonson Brisbane lay back against the 
 cushions of a leathern arm-chair, his feet ex 
 tended to the fire, his hands clasped behind his 
 head, and his face upturned toward the massive 
 panels of his library ceiling. But the attitude 
 was no more one of relaxation than that of an 
 observer who watches for the moment of eclipse. 
 
 He had his daughter s Irish eyes, and some 
 where from a pack of shuffled nationalities he 
 had drawn a Roman mouth and chin which he 
 was vain enough not to hide. Even in the strong 
 light of his sunny room his skin was clear and 
 firm and wholesome, and his hair, in spite of half 
 a century, clung to his head with virile crispness 
 save where one lock detached itself and fell 
 across his forehead. 
 
 This lock was characteristic of B. J., and in the 
 symbolism of the comic press did duty as a dollar 
 mark so often that its cultivation had become, in 
 a way, a public obligation. It was expected of 
 him that it should be there. It was the token 
 by which strangers recognized him, and to his 
 followers on Change it was an oriflamme. But to 
 165
 
 1 66 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 the man himself it had once meant something 
 more than a dollar mark. 
 
 Ben Jonson Brisbane there had been court 
 cards in the pack had once believed himself a 
 writer of realistic fiction, chained hand and foot 
 to imaginative facts in a provincial jail-yard of 
 journalism, until one day, apprehending the 
 logic of events, he made a million dollars, by 
 corner or concession traditions differ and dis 
 covered in himself a fourth dimension, a sixth 
 sense. Some people, being blindfolded, can 
 divine the north, and others know when they 
 cross water running underground. B. J. knew 
 when to buy and when to sell, and this was his 
 explanation of himself, which being the true one 
 found no general acceptance. Meanwhile, he 
 remained as he had been born, a deviser of plots, 
 and it was the clairvoyance of a Victor Hugo 
 rather than a Rothschild that lighted in his Celtic 
 eyes, fixed on the carving of his paneled ceiling. 
 
 So silent was the library that Bessie Brisbane 
 and her guest, coming softly to it down the car 
 peted corridor, made sure B. J. must be alone if 
 he were there at all, but at the open door they 
 drew back, perceiving their mistake. 
 
 A girl of their own age was seated at a window 
 in an attitude of attention, a pad of yellow paper 
 on her knees, and a pencil in her hand, and when 
 she, being less preoccupied than her companion,
 
 The Mark of the Dollar 167 
 
 looked up, Alida was glad to recognize Serena 
 Schepmoes, Serena, small and unobtrusive, her 
 soft, brown hair drawn tightly back, and her eyes, 
 a shade too near together, expressing only readi 
 ness impersonal, mechanical readiness. The 
 round keys of the open typewriter at her elbow 
 expressed as much. 
 
 "What was that last?" inquired Mr. Brisbane, 
 after a silence that must have lasted several min 
 utes, and the other, reading- from the pad, re 
 plied: "What we have most to guard against " 
 
 "Ah, yes," said Mr. Brisbane, taking up the 
 thread, and continuing in an even monotone, 
 "What we have most to guard against is the 
 sudden release of large blocks of Balkan now in 
 conservative hands. We shall sustain the mar 
 ket in this and other directions, and any dispo 
 sition to capitalize profits will be met by a 
 sufficient decline to check further sales. It 
 would be better, however, to keep things upon 
 an even keel by a judicious balance of private 
 tips and published denials which must be advan 
 tageous in the end to all concerned. Don t lose 
 touch with Ajax for a moment, and if a certain 
 presence seems advisable to both of you, wire 
 Brig Mary Ann unloading at Commercial 
 Wharf. Keep the babies warm. That will be 
 all, Miss Schepmoes, thank you." 
 
 Mr. Brisbane made himself a little longer in
 
 1 68 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 the arm-chair, and laughed a laugh of quiet 
 satisfaction. 
 
 "No, stop one moment, please," he said again. 
 "This is a telegram to the same address. Sing 
 Holland Juniper Klondyke. Have you that?" 
 
 "Yes, Mr. Brisbane," replied Serena, repeat 
 ing the cryptic words, and immediately the 
 typewriter went into violent action, which the 
 protesting voice of Bessie was powerless to dis 
 turb. 
 
 "This is a pretty way to spend a holiday," 
 cried that young lady, coming up behind her 
 father s chair. "If I were Miss Schepmoes I d 
 strike." 
 
 "Why, hello, Bess," said B. J., indolently. 
 "We are not working, are we, Miss Schepmoes? 
 A thought or two occurred to me 
 
 " Sing Holland, Juniper Klondyke, " quoted 
 Bessie. "Most charming little thoughts they 
 are, I m sure. Are not you going to speak to 
 Alida?" 
 
 "Not the Princess Alida!" exclaimed Brisbane, 
 rising with exaggerated haste, and to the visitor 
 he murmured, as he bent over her hand, "I am 
 your very humble servant." 
 
 "A Happy New Year, Mr. Brisbane," returned 
 Alida, gayly, for the impetus of bells and frosty 
 air was still upon her, and in the atmosphere of 
 the splendid house the holiday took on new actu-
 
 The Mark of the Dollar 169 
 
 ality. "I hope you don t mind being broken in 
 upon. It s all my fault; I ve never seen this 
 room before by daylight. How beautiful it is." 
 
 "Yes, pretty as a red wagon," he assented, 
 laughing. 
 
 "It might have been designed and built in 
 Pullman," put in Bessie, fervently. 
 
 "The highest art," went on her father, in 
 accents of instruction, "is that which best inter 
 prets its own period, and Pullman stands for 
 national aspirations in this year of grace." 
 
 "It stands for the Chicago limited," insisted 
 Bessie, and her father laughed again, light- 
 heartedly. 
 
 Resting his elbow on the high mantelpiece he 
 threw back his head and brushed the dollar mark 
 aside. 
 
 "And so do we," he assured her; "we stand 
 for the Chicago limited, and what we lose on 
 curves, we make up when we strike a tangent. 
 Miss Van Wandeleer, your section is reserved." 
 
 "Dear me," sighed Bessie, in affectation of de 
 spair, "I feel just like that girl in Thackeray who 
 said You ll find poor pa sadly vulgar. And, 
 oh, Alida, that reminds me a nice old lady 
 asked B. J. the other night if he had read Van 
 ity Fair, and he assured her that he had read it 
 in the original! Wasn t it lovely?" 
 
 At the window the patter of flying hammers
 
 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 and the tinkle of the little bell that announces 
 when a line is nearly finished, ceased, and Bessie, 
 as though she had been waiting for the chance, 
 crossed to speak to Serena Schepmoes. 
 
 "Please show me how to make the ribbon go 
 the other way," she said. 
 
 "Yes, in a minute," said the other, preoccu 
 pied with an erasure and the printing in of a 
 correction, and not until this was finished to her 
 satisfaction did she explain the small attachment 
 at the side. 
 
 "You have to use more force than that," she 
 said, when Bessie had tried and failed. 
 
 Presently Alida, too, came up and said good 
 morning to the secretary, who returned the salu 
 tation with an expressive wink (which seemed 
 uncalled for), and the lesson in mechanics was 
 resumed. 
 
 "I love machinery," declared Bessie, wiping 
 her fingers on a handkerchief worth a day s work 
 at union rates. "I d be perfectly happy if I could 
 run a locomotive. Papa, did you ever run a 
 locomotive?" 
 
 "No, daughter," answered Brisbane, "I ve 
 only fired one a narrow gauge freight engine on 
 the Blue Hill branch." 
 
 Oddly enough, as he said this a burst of flame 
 from the wide chimney shone red upon his face. 
 It was as though the furnace door had opened as
 
 The Mark of the Dollar 171 
 
 the rocking freighter buckled to the grade, but 
 the cause of this illumination was a man in livery 
 who knelt at B. J. s feet to throw another hickory 
 log upon the fire. 
 
 "Is Mrs. Brisbane in the par rose room?" he 
 inquired of the servant, making the correction 
 with a knowing glance toward Alida. 
 
 "I think Mrs. Brisbane rang the elevator bell 
 just now, sir," was the answer. 
 
 "Come, girls," said B. J., warningly, "you 
 know what mama is when expecting company." 
 
 "Miss Schepmoes," said Bessie, "if you will 
 waste your holiday by being here, you must take 
 the consequences. Won t you come down when 
 you are ready and help us?" 
 
 "Thanks," said Miss Schepmoes, with com 
 posure; "what s up?" 
 
 "Oh, nothing very exciting, some Englishmen 
 are coming, and we are going to have tea and 
 pretend that we like it." 
 
 "Lord Wensdale," put in Alida, in the hope of 
 heading off a wink. 
 
 "Wensdale?" repeated Serena, folding her 
 finished letters; "the Yorkshire family, I sup 
 pose. He must be about the third earl, the title 
 is not very old." 
 
 "I never thought of their having vintages in 
 lords," said Bessie, laughing; "I supposed they 
 lumped them all together."
 
 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 Miss Schepmoes, reaching for the envelopes, 
 bent down her head. She found her employer 
 and his family an endless source of satisfaction. 
 
 In the corridor, B. J. said: "I like our little 
 friend Serena very much. She has a great dra 
 matic future before her." 
 
 "She did think once of going on the stage," 
 rejoined Alida, doubtfully. "Do you consider 
 that a disadvantage in a secretary?" 
 
 "Oh, no, indeed, a great advantage; my last 
 incumbent thought of going on Change. When 
 ever I dictated a letter I had to follow it with a 
 contradictory one. The effort nearly killed us 
 both." 
 
 "You know you loved to do it," declared his 
 daughter. 
 
 Perhaps if Sardanapalas had undertaken the 
 adornment of the Brisbane house with Fifth 
 Avenue shops to draw upon, he might have found 
 more places to put expensive things, but this is 
 idle speculation. He surely could not have lav 
 ished treasure with a better will, and nowhere 
 was this more apparent than in the rose room. 
 It was like a foretaste of the eighth day of cre 
 ation that day of "Let there be roses" yet to 
 come, and in the midst of it a frail and faded 
 Eve stood making nervous, unimportant changes 
 in the ornaments. Upon the entrance of Ben 
 Jonson Brisbane and his two companions she
 
 The Mark of the Dollar 173 
 
 turned to them in evident relief. It was one of 
 the terrors of Mrs. Brisbane s life that some day 
 she might be called upon to face her guests alone. 
 
 Mrs. Brisbane, who was fair and spare, and 
 short for the mother of so tall a daughter, had 
 been pretty with a fleeting, New England pretti- 
 ness. But accepting the "had been" with good 
 grace, she gave her mind to the four unalterable 
 tenets of a faith which held her husband to be 
 the most brilliant man in the world, her daughter 
 the most attractive woman, herself the victim of 
 a complaint known as oppression, and Martini 
 cocktails a reliable family remedy. 
 
 She had known adversity, and she knew pros 
 perity limitless prosperity. In the one case she 
 had been mildly extravagant, in the other she 
 practiced secret small economies to maintain her 
 equilibrium. And her normal expression of 
 placid bewilderment varied at times toward 
 pained bewilderment or pleased bewilderment, 
 as oppression or Martini reigned lord of her 
 ascendant. Could an angel have whispered to 
 her, "Rachel, you are doing admirably," it 
 would not have hurt the angel s reputation for 
 veracity, and it would have been a great comfort 
 to Mrs. Brisbane. 
 
 "Oh, Miss Van Wandeleer, I am so glad to 
 see you!" she cried, effusively; "I don t know 
 what we should have done without you."
 
 174 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 "Mama s idea of a pleasant party begins and 
 ends with you, Alida, " supplemented Bessie, 
 taking a handful of roses from a silver bowl and 
 dividing them with perfect fairness. 
 
 "Ben, please don t go away again," pleaded 
 Mrs. Brisbane, suspecting an intent to avoid 
 responsibilities as her husband moved toward 
 another door. 
 
 "I sha n t," he answered, reassuringly; "I am 
 here to amuse the company, especially the Prin 
 cess Alida, to whom I shall now exhibit the entire 
 collection, beginning with room A." 
 
 "But you must stay in here!" 
 
 "By no means. Would you have them find all 
 the talent in a row like a Merry Thought Quar 
 tette? Bessie, reason with your mother while 
 Miss Van Wandeleer and I discuss the fine 
 arts." 
 
 "Alida, don t let him escape," said Bessie, 
 "and bring him back when you smell muffins." 
 
 "I shall expect you to explain everything," 
 said Alida to her host, as they passed into 
 another and a larger room, the pervading tones of 
 which were those of Flemish tapestry. 
 
 "No," he answered, lightly, "it is not often 
 that I get in this particular part of the limited 
 myself. My place is further on ahead." 
 
 "In the smoking car," she suggested, remem 
 bering a mysterious haunt of men.
 
 The Mark of the Dollar 175 
 
 "No," said the former stoker, laughing, "in 
 the cab. " 
 
 As her guide seemed little disposed to linger 
 over several objects well worth looking at, Alida 
 protested. 
 
 "You are not showing me anything," she said. 
 
 "There are only two things here I want to 
 show you," he rejoined. "Two pictures; one 
 that I think rather good and one that I am sure 
 is horribly bad. Which shall we take first?" 
 
 "Whichever comes the first." 
 
 "That happens to be the good one. Here, 
 just above your head. Come this way a step and 
 tell me what you think of it." 
 
 Alida took the required step and stood a 
 moment looking silently at one of the most 
 puzzling compositions she had ever seen. 
 
 "It is St. Martin of Tours and the Beggar," 
 she said at length; "he is in the act of taking off 
 his cloak to divide with the other." 
 
 "I see you know the legend," said B. J. 
 
 "But, Mr. Brisbane," cried Alida, taking a 
 wider range of the canvas, "they are in Madison 
 Square. Surely those are the lights of the gar 
 den through the trees. And there are modern 
 people all about, and in the distance, hansom 
 cabs. Let me have a moment to take it in." 
 
 As the moment passed, and others, the motif 
 of the picture seemed no longer fantastic, but
 
 ij6 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 plausible and possible, almost convincing in its 
 realism. 
 
 "It is wonderful," Alida said, at length. "I 
 do not know which to admire most, the artist s 
 truthful rendering of night and mist and melting 
 snow, or his daring in introducing those two 
 figures in the full electric light. Who was he?" 
 
 "Oh, a boy I used to know. He once sold 
 papers on the Illinois Central, but he went to 
 Paris afterward to study art and got a lot of 
 medals, married a French girl, and bought a 
 chateau on the Loire. He sent me this one day 
 for old times sake. That s all the story, but I 
 thought the picture might appeal to you. Shall 
 we go on to the other?" 
 
 "No," she replied; "I have not yet seen 
 enough of this." 
 
 A carved gold chair stood beneath the picture, 
 and on this Alida mounted, giving little heed to 
 its gobelin covering; her eyes were nearly upon 
 a level with the painted faces. 
 
 "Come, that is not allowed!" exclaimed B. J. 
 
 "Then you should not have left out part of the 
 story," she answered, when she had sprung 
 lightly down, and B. J. of many deals turned 
 red red as St. Martin might have turned had he 
 been detected much redder than he turned him 
 self when the dollar mark artists had been espe 
 cially clever.
 
 The Mark of the Dollar 177 
 
 When they paused again at the further end of 
 the long room, Alida, looking up at a large, dark 
 picture, asked, "Is this the bad one?" 
 
 "No, that happens to be a treasure; some day 
 when nobody is about I mean to scrub it with 
 sapolio. The bad one is the little fellow under 
 neath." 
 
 The little fellow, a water-color, and unquestion 
 ably deserving of its ill-repute, was a view of 
 sepia mountains beneath a cobalt sky, with a tor 
 rent in the foreground of a green most often 
 seen in maps. A positive line traversing the 
 mountain side terminated near the center in what 
 appeared to be a spot of ink. 
 
 "The mystery about this," began the guide, 
 "disappears at once when we learn that the line 
 is a railway, and the spot intended for the en 
 trance to a tunnel. A German draughtsman 
 made the sketch, and I valued it as a reminder 
 of how undeserved successes sometimes are. 
 But, come to think of it, the story would not 
 interest you in the least." 
 
 "Oh, I am sure it would!" exclaimed Alida; 
 "I must hear it." 
 
 "Then let us sit down here, that is, if you can 
 smell muffins at so long a range." 
 
 "No, but I can see Bessie at the tea-table, and 
 she will be certain to make a sign. Tell me 
 about the railway and the tunnel."
 
 178 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 They sat at opposite ends of a carved and 
 gilded sofa, blood brother to the St. Martin 
 chair, and too high for a person of Alida s length 
 of limb to touch the floor. Even B. J., in his 
 corner, clasped his hands about one raised knee 
 for comfort. His poses, which when set in gobe 
 lin, suggested aesthetic affectation at times, were 
 in truth the easy attitudes of one who rests on 
 bales of freight. 
 
 "You must know," began the narrator, "that 
 at one time several railway companies were 
 anxious to extend their lines across a mountain 
 range. Some of them built tunnels and others 
 switchbacks till every pass was pre-empted and 
 every possible way of getting over taken up, and 
 the little road in which I was interested was, to 
 all appearances, left out in the cold." 
 
 B. J. spoke so pathetically of his little road 
 that Alida s sympathies went out to it at once. 
 
 "I thought it was all up with us, but in spite 
 of the engineer s reports I undertook a forlorn- 
 hope exploration on my own account. One day, 
 while following a most unpromising trail, I found 
 myself overtaken by nightfall, and came upon a 
 lonely cabin." 
 
 "I am sure it is going to be a ghost story," 
 Alida interrupted. 
 
 "It would have to be in fiction," he admitted, 
 seriously, "but this is only plain, improbable
 
 The Mark of the Dollar 179 
 
 fact. It was just an ordinary miner s cabin, ten 
 miles from anywhere, but there were two remark 
 able things about it." 
 
 As B. J. paused here for mock effect, Alida 
 clapped her hands in mute applause. 
 
 "Two very remarkable things, considering the 
 place," he went on, slowly, "a cow an Alderney 
 if I remember rightly which grazed on a small 
 plateau where the grass grew abundantly, and a 
 young man who sat in a hammock and read 
 Browning." 
 
 "I believe you are making up the story as you 
 go along," Alida said, ungratefully. 
 
 "Indeed I am not," he protested, laughing, 
 "and I have not come to the most interesting 
 part yet. The young man turned out to be about 
 the best fellow I ever ran across, and the cow 
 was a dream of infancy. Of course I stayed 
 there over night, and paid for my keep with good 
 advice about the quartz vein he was working on. " 
 
 "I thought he was reading Browning." 
 
 "So he was, while waiting for a partner who 
 had gone thirty miles to buy powder blasting 
 powder, you understand. And incidentally I may 
 say that the partner never came back." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 "Possibly because he found some more prom 
 ising enterprise, and I cannot blame him very 
 much when I recall that vein of quartz. It was
 
 180 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 white and beautiful and clear as ice, but there 
 was not a fleck of gold to be got out of it except 
 in theory." 
 
 "But don t you think the partner behaved very 
 badly?" 
 
 "Perhaps he was not fond of Browning," said 
 B. J., charitably; "we should not judge too 
 harshly. That evening by the fire my host and 
 I fell naturally into swapping troubles, and when 
 he heard mine he laughed." 
 
 "I thought you said he was nice." 
 
 "He was, and that is why he laughed. The 
 next morning he put me onto something all the 
 rest had overlooked ; a place where a tunnel 
 could be bored right through the mountain to a 
 gulch upon the other side not half a mile from 
 where we were. You will understand how much 
 this meant to me, when I tell you that it is to-day 
 the best and shortest route between the valleys 
 and the plains." 
 
 "Was not that fortunate!" cried Alida, more 
 gratified by B. J. s confidence in her intelligence 
 than impressed by the ctinodment. "And what 
 became of the miner?" 
 
 "Of course, our company would have given 
 him anything in reason, so we made a bargain 
 that he should have the right to any quartz veins 
 we might discover in our tunnel. But there did 
 not happen to be any there, so in the end he got
 
 The Mark of the Dollar 181 
 
 nothing, and I made more than I deserved, both 
 in fame and money. Rather shrewd in me, was 
 it not?" 
 
 "I don t believe you treated him unfairly," 
 said Alida, stoutly. 
 
 "It is a fact, all the same," said Mr. Brisbane, 
 "that the man who saved our scheme got nothing 
 for his pains. I wish the picture were a little 
 bigger, it would make such a team with St. 
 Martin." 
 
 "I won t believe it," said Alida, rising. "See 
 there are people in the rose room, and Bessie 
 is holding up a muffin."
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 MUFFINS AND ALLIGATORS 
 
 "Shall we break in on them, or wait for an 
 effective cue?" B. J. whispered to Alida, as they 
 paused within the shadow of a rosy curtain to 
 survey the group. 
 
 The rose room party, now increased in size 
 by three male visitors and Serena Schepmoes, 
 had managed to make the worst possible distri 
 bution of itself. Mrs. Brisbane strove to enter 
 tain Lord Wensdale under a daughter s alert and 
 disapproving eye; Mr. Leigh-Watkins, who ever 
 regarded Bessie with distrust, assisted that young 
 lady with a spirit lamp, and Mr. Howlet, openly 
 anxious to take the vicar s place, occupied a 
 distant seat beside Serena. 
 
 "When we were at Nutley Abbey," observed 
 Mrs. Brisbane, drawing inspiration from a cherry 
 in the bottom of an empty glass, "Bessie found 
 fault with me for asking if they intended to 
 rebuild ; but I was perfectly right, for in less 
 than six months they wrote us for a contribution. " 
 
 "I see. We ll soon not have a decent ruin 
 left," lamented his lordship, who evidently sup 
 posed Martinis should be sipped like port. 
 182
 
 Muffins and Alligators 183 
 
 From the vicinity of the spirit lamp there 
 came a milder voice. 
 
 "The parish building is to be of brick and 
 terra-cotta with symbolic figures above the 
 door." 
 
 "How many pieces?" asked Miss Brisbane, 
 her tongs suspended over the sugar-bowl. 
 
 "Twelve," said the vicar, simply, "arranged 
 in a semi-circle." 
 
 Across the room, Serena said: "My grand 
 mother used to visit the dowager duchess of 
 Perth." 
 
 "Really!" answered Mr. Howlet, without 
 enthusiasm. "Beastly old frump she must have 
 been." 
 
 "Enter the Princess Alida, " whispered B. J., 
 "followed by villain who gives glad hand to 
 duke." 
 
 But it is never fair to judge a company by 
 fragments of disjointed talk, and there were 
 much greater conversational possibilities in the 
 rose room than might be supposed at first. 
 
 Mr. Leigh-Watkins his cloth entitles him to 
 precedence was a good-looking young man, who 
 hyphenated opposing tendencies as he did his 
 name. To Alida, catching the infectious raillery 
 of B. J., he suggested a polo player who had put 
 on sacredotal raiment for a lark. His hair, 
 short, crisp, and red the shade was almost
 
 184 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 primary repeated itself in heavy eyebrows and 
 a neat mustache, and when his brown eyes took 
 on a pastoral mildness one felt one ought to be 
 amused. 
 
 Howlet was tall and spare, with a long mus 
 tache made longer by much pulling; his method 
 of expressing thought began commonly with a 
 low hoot suggestive of a sudden pain, and his 
 favorite articulate word was "really," which 
 adverb he had trained to surprising conver 
 sational feats. 
 
 Lord Wensdale, also tall, was broader than his 
 nephew, and amiability personified; he would 
 have been most agreeable had he not labored 
 under two illusions; that all American humor 
 was amusing, and that most American remarks 
 were humorous. For the rest he had black side 
 whiskers closely trimmed, white teeth, and a 
 guileless smile, and he said "I see" quite often. 
 
 But to Alida, whose advance impressions had 
 been received from Howlet through the medium- 
 ship of Bessie, Lord Wensdale was a distinct 
 surprise. He did not seem at all what is implied 
 by the terms "rum old chap," "queer old 
 Wenny," or even "jolly good sort." He was an 
 active gentleman of forty or thereabout, with a 
 marvellously good opinion of himself, and a 
 shrewd habit of estimating persons and ideas as 
 they presented themselves. If Bessie had really
 
 Muffins and Alligators 185 
 
 meant what she said in the sleigh but then did 
 Bessie mean it? 
 
 Mr. Brisbane had, on entering, gone directly 
 to where his wife was engaged in deadly con 
 verse with Lord Wensdale. Drawing a light 
 chair between them, he sat down and began at 
 once with some suggestion challenging animated 
 discussion, which soon set all three laughing 
 heartily. It was remarkable how the faded little 
 woman brightened and acquired confidence under 
 her husband s protecting wing, and what really 
 clever things she either said or seemed to say. 
 And later, when the earl told Alida that Bris 
 bane s wife must have been a great help to 
 him in his career, he said it with complete 
 sincerity. 
 
 Alida herself had borne down to the relief of 
 Bessie. 
 
 "Let me make tea now," she said, "as every 
 one has had some it is of no consequence how 
 badly I do it." 
 
 "All right, if you insist," said Bessie, rising 
 with alacrity. "Let me introduce Mr. Leigh- 
 Watkins, whose management of spirit lamps is 
 really miraculous." 
 
 Alida bowed and so did Mr. Leigh-Watkins. 
 He was standing and held a plate of muffins by 
 request with much the same quality of good will 
 with which a poodle holds a pipe.
 
 1 86 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 "I have heard so much of you, Miss Van Wan- 
 deleer," he murmured, casting about him fora 
 place to put the muffins. 
 
 "But very little to my credit, I m afraid," 
 returned Alida. "Put them in the rose bowl. 
 But please give me one first, that is, if you don t 
 mind seeing me eat it." 
 
 "Nothing could give me greater pleasure," said 
 the clergyman, referring to the act rather than 
 the spectacle. 
 
 "But don t you think it would be kinder if you 
 were to take one, too?" went on Alida, "and 
 between bites you can tell me all the disagreeable 
 things you have ever heard about me." 
 
 "Ah, that would be too delightful," he replied, 
 not knowing that it would be years before he 
 could again taste hot butter without a pang. 
 
 Meanwhile Alida kept an active ear toward a 
 trio just behind her back. 
 
 "Ohoo, really!" hooted Mr. Howlet; "and 
 what do you think of Uncle Wenny, dear old 
 chap?" 
 
 "In the first place," answered Bessie, "I don t 
 think dear old Wenny old at all." 
 
 "Really! Prime of life, and that sort of thing, 
 of course." 
 
 "I should not call him young," put in Serena. 
 
 "Now would you?" rejoined Howlet, grate 
 fully.
 
 Muffins and Alligators 187 
 
 "No, I should say, decidedly middle aged." 
 
 "Really!" 
 
 "And a confirmed old bachelor. Not a man 
 likely to marry." 
 
 Mr. Howlet found the very thought amusing. 
 
 "No, not the marrying sort at all," he said. 
 "Old Wen goes in for tigers and missionaries 
 He s just back from Bombay or some such place 
 where they ve a famine or something of the sort. 
 He s been distributing relief funds, don t you 
 know. And now he s over here to buy up all the 
 cows and advance the price of beef. I fancy 
 some of our family must have been highwaymen. 
 Those border boys, you know, who used " 
 
 "To take from the rich and give to the poor," 
 interpreted Bessie, for Mr. Howlet sometimes 
 interpreted himself at length. 
 
 "I should think you would feel anxious when 
 your uncle goes to such unhealthy places," said 
 Miss Schepmoes, with a smile. Serena had dis 
 covered that with a smile one might say almost 
 anything to Mr. Howlet. 
 
 "Really! Yes, poor old chap!" 
 
 "How does he like your calling him old?" 
 
 "Oh, Wenny does not care, he s such a good 
 sort, don t you know." 
 
 "I suppose," went on Serena, "that when he 
 is at home he lives at the family seat in York 
 shire. "
 
 1 88 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 "But Wensdale is in Devon, don t you know," 
 corrected Mr. Howlet. "Oh, yes, he is there 
 when he is not up in town or somewhere else. 
 He s awfully fond of having people down, and 
 lets them own the place, and walk all over him." 
 
 "For the shooting," said Miss Schepmoes, 
 knowingly. 
 
 "No, really! He s a lot of odd ideas about 
 killing things for sport that he s picked up from 
 those duffers out in India." 
 
 "Is Wensdale a show place?" inquired Serena, 
 bent on exhaustive information. 
 
 "Oh, well, you might say so in a way," replied 
 Mr. Howlet, who was not without his share of 
 family pride, "but it s off the line, you know, for 
 trippers and Americans. Oh, I beg your par 
 don, I mean to say it s rather off the line, you 
 know." 
 
 "And filled with heirlooms," suggested Serena, 
 still unsatisfied, and Alida noticed that Bessie 
 had said very little. But this was not the class 
 of conversation in which Bessie shone. 
 
 Yes, Wensdale was filled with heirlooms, and 
 moreover had a private ruin and a ghost which 
 lost nothing in importance through the seeming 
 reluctance of their expounder. And still Miss 
 Schepmoes pressed to greater heights, and still 
 Miss Brisbane followed silently. 
 
 "The fellowship of souls," observed Mr.
 
 Muffins and Alligators 189 
 
 Leigh-Watkins, pensively, "is all we know of 
 heaven." 
 
 "I beg to challenge that remark," said B. J., 
 coming up, "I hold that heaven is all we know 
 of the fellowship of souls." 
 
 The young clergyman s brown eyes said 
 plainly, "I did not speak to you, sir," but his 
 lips said to his host: "I don t quite catch your 
 point." 
 
 "And I," announced B. J., "am prepared to 
 leave the question to Miss Van Wandeleer with 
 out argument." 
 
 "I say," replied Alida, rising, "that the fel 
 lowship of heaven is all we know of souls," which 
 being the final twist the sentence was capable of 
 sustaining, passed for a decision. 
 
 Presently, in the general shifting of positions 
 Alida found herself near Lord Wensdale. 
 
 "You shall not pass without speaking to me, 
 Miss Van Wandeleer," he said, with his most 
 open smile. "I m told you are a Knickerbocker, 
 and I have always wanted to know a real, live 
 Knickerbocker. 
 
 "I am so glad you want to know me," she 
 replied, "because I have always wanted to know 
 a real, live earl." 
 
 "I see," returned the Englishman, laughing, 
 for he scented humor, "and would it not be odd 
 if each were to find the other very much like
 
 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 every other body I mean to say every other 
 good-looking body " and drawing himself erect 
 he twisted his mustache with exaggerated com 
 placency. 
 
 "But your nephew is good-looking," said 
 Alida, "and I do not think you at all alike." 
 
 The retort, not a brilliant one, might even 
 have been declared elementary in humor, but 
 Alida made it with a purpose which it fulfilled. 
 Lord Wensdale s eyes had been directed toward 
 the group which still delved in Devonshire tra 
 ditions, and no eyes directed thitherward could 
 fail to note Miss Brisbane. 
 
 Bessie, a little apart from the others, sat with 
 her head thrown back, her well-nigh perfect pro 
 file outlined against a rosy cushion, and her Irish 
 eyes fixed dreamily on nothing in particular, 
 Bessie s thoughts were probably at that moment 
 fixed likewise on nothing in particular, but she 
 appeared to think unutterable things. 
 
 "Oh, is not Bessie beautiful?" Alida said, 
 beneath her breath. 
 
 "I see!" assented Lord Wensdale, thought 
 fully, and presently Alida spoke of sleighing. 
 Even if Bessie had not been serious she had done 
 no harm. 
 
 Then Mr. Brisbane stirred up Herbert Howlet 
 by asking if the English were fond of polo, and 
 made ridiculous assertions, in which he called
 
 Muffins and Alligators 191 
 
 upon his wife to bear him out. He miscalled 
 Bellevue Avenue to Serena, and made the vicar 
 swear that he was right, and he always so put 
 disputed cases to Alida that she was forced to 
 decide in his favor, which renewed the argument. 
 
 "Hello, where is Bess?" he asked, looking 
 about for fresh victims. 
 
 "I think she took Lord Wensdale to see the 
 greenhouse," Mrs. Brisbane answered. 
 
 "Palm-garden, mama," he corrected her; "they 
 have probably gone to feed the alligators. Let 
 us all go and help them." 
 
 Miss Brisbane was standing by a fountain in 
 which were two small alligators Pyramus and 
 Thisbe by name who did not look as though 
 they had been recently fed. Before her stood 
 Lord Wensdale, smiling. 
 
 "I may be wrong," she was saying, defiantly, 
 "but I shall not admit it ever." 
 
 "I sha n t expect you to," he answered; "it s 
 not an Anglo-Saxon habit." 
 
 "It is not fair to have so many facts," said 
 Bessie. "Next time we fight it must be over 
 something I know all about." 
 
 "And it shall be a battle to the death," replied 
 Lord Wensdale. "Remember, I have taken up 
 your glove." 
 
 "Really!" his nephew whispered to Alida, 
 "whatever is old Wenny up to now?"
 
 192 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 Somewhere in the rear of the party, paired 
 with his hostess, the vicar was heard to say, 
 "My thought would be terra-cotta. " 
 
 When twenty minutes later Alida and Miss 
 Schepmoes left the Park Avenue house together, 
 the winter day had given place to a white night 
 of snowy streets and carbon lamps. As they 
 turned southward, walking rapidly, for the wind 
 came chilly from the frozen river, they could see 
 the straggling procession moving toward the 
 Thirty-fourth Street ferry, rapid, silent cars all 
 crowded to the platform. Further across the 
 vista of Fourth Avenue, moved other proces 
 sions, other cars, till the lights became a blur at 
 Union Square, and that was only a new begin 
 ning. Nearer, broughams and hansoms swarmed 
 about a striped awning, where footmen stood 
 arow, and women, missing an object lesson in 
 endurance, waited for carriages and stamped 
 their feet. 
 
 "Fancy any one giving a tea on New Year s 
 Day!" exclaimed Serena. "If one is not out of 
 town one is supposed to be, and so is every one 
 who knows." 
 
 "Has not that idea rather been given up?" 
 inquired Alida, moderately. 
 
 "Oh, not at all." Serena was always well 
 informed in spite of limited opportunities for
 
 Muffins and Alligators 193 
 
 information. "They must be people like the 
 Brisbanes who know no better." 
 
 "Or can afford to please themselves," Alida 
 added, somewhat stiffly. 
 
 Serena laughed with unaffected merriment. 
 
 "Oh, aren t the Brisbanes delicious?" she cried. 
 "Just think of having an earl to tea and inviting 
 in your typewriter to meet him!" If Miss 
 Schepmoes was critical, she was at least con 
 sistent. 
 
 "I never think of myself as anything but my 
 self," remarked Alida. 
 
 "No more do I," returned Serena; "but they 
 do not care for that; they do not care two straws 
 who any one is. I suppose when Miss Elizabeth 
 Barrett Brisbane, daughter of Ben Jonson Bris 
 bane fancy going to the anthology for names 
 becomes mistress of Wensdale castle in Devon 
 shire she will have the beadle and the parish clerk 
 to dinner." 
 
 "I trust that I shall be there when she does," 
 replied Alida. 
 
 "I am afraid I did rub it in about his age," 
 went on Miss Schepmoes, "but I really could not 
 help it, she was so darned Vere de Vere. " 
 
 "But Bessie is never in the least affected," 
 protested Bessie s friend; "she is, if anything, too 
 direct and simple." 
 
 Serena laughed derisively.
 
 194 Tfa Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 "Yes, that s her role," she sniffed. "When 
 she said, Lord Wensdale, would you not like to 
 see my alligators? one might imagine the beasts 
 to be in a wash-tub in the back yard instead of a 
 million-dollar palm-garden. It took an English 
 man to swallow those alligators at a gulp." 
 
 "You know nothing of Bessie s character," 
 said Alida, "and the idea of her being interested 
 in a man she never saw before is absurd. " Then, 
 to divert the conversation, she added, "Mr. 
 Howlet is amusing, is he not?" 
 
 "I hate all Englishmen," proclaimed Serena. 
 "You were so wise in keeping clear of titles. 
 Bradish Osterhout is worth a hundred of them." 
 
 "There is no reason to mention him at all," 
 said Miss Van Wandeleer. 
 
 "Of course not," the other agreed, willingly, 
 "I know that nothing is announced." 
 
 They were going down the Madison Avenue 
 hill now at a rapid pace Serena s wistful glances 
 toward the more brilliant street a block to west 
 ward had been of no avail and over the arcade 
 of the Garden of Diana just ahead a galaxy of red 
 electric lamps spelled the inscription, Bernhardt. 
 
 "Those are my jewels," remarked Serena, 
 looking up. "But Schepmoes would never do, 
 would it? The very sound suggests Continuous. 
 What would you think of Sandys Serena 
 Sandys with a y of course?"
 
 Muffins and Alligators 195 
 
 But Alicia, if she had an opinion, did not give 
 it. 
 
 "You remind me of Edward Volkert, " she 
 said, laughing. 
 
 "Do you mean old Mrs. Epps s grandson? 
 Mrs. Van der Werff says he is as crazy as a June 
 bug; but then she says that every one is crazy." 
 
 "He considers himself a born actor," replied 
 Alida, non-committally, "and I am not at all sure 
 he is not right." 
 
 "I should like very much to know him." 
 
 "That would not be a difficult matter to 
 arrange." 
 
 Serena became thoughtful until they had passed 
 the arches and were crossing the Square. 
 
 "Would it not be a good idea," she asked, "if 
 I should walk with you to Mrs. Ruggles, and you 
 should hint to Edward Volkert to take me home. 
 The streets in Mackerelville are so unsafe after 
 dark." 
 
 "I should not mind asking him directly," 
 returned Alida, doubtfully; but the thought had 
 already occurred to her that an acquaintance 
 with Serena might be better for Volkert than 
 that of any of King Solomon s wives. 
 
 Near the center of Madison Square she stopped 
 and turned to look back. 
 
 There were the garden lights through the 
 black trees ; the hansom cabs in silhouette; the
 
 196 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 level plains of snow. Here was the very bench, 
 perhaps, from which a starving man, who was to 
 win a medal and a chateau on the Loire, had 
 started up to meet St. Martin with his cloak. 
 
 "For heaven s sake don t stop!" Serena cried, 
 catching her companion s arm; "A tall man in a 
 long, gray overcoat has been behind us all the 
 way. He is a gentleman and awfully handsome, 
 but for heaven s sake don t stop."
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 K. O. K. 
 
 The New Year started at a rattling pace. 
 From Wall Street to Longacre, and from Long- 
 acre to the Speedway, everybody was agreed that 
 never had such a steed lent mettle to the pneu 
 matic tires of time. Now, for a record, every 
 body said, to start the brand-new century! 
 
 Rumor had it that B. J. Brisbane would arrange 
 to consolidate all railways and pay all sharehold 
 ers ten per cent, and extra dividends, perhaps. 
 Rumor had it that a process had been discovered 
 for developing power from salt water, which 
 would, of course, be an economy. Rumor had it 
 that a man had learned to fly by the simple ex 
 pedient of lifting himself by the ears. 
 
 In Kenilworth Place affairs took on the glamor 
 of their times. Doctor Van Gaasbeck increased 
 his prices until the income that he did not make 
 was doubled. Volkert exchanged his flute for a 
 concertina to great advantage. Miss Toll fell 
 heir to seven hundred dollars from an aunt. Bell 
 sent a story to a ten-cent monthly, and Mrs. 
 Ruggles had the lower bathroom papered. 
 
 As for Miss Van Wandeleer, she had never been 
 197
 
 198 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 more popular, nor her company in greater de 
 mand. Society, which had always treated her 
 well, seemed for the hour to find her indispens 
 able; her gowns were copied; her sayings re 
 peated; her beauty, family, grace, and general 
 excellence extolled. 
 
 "After all, "sighed Miss Deusenbury one day 
 at luncheon, when neither Alida nor either of her 
 relatives happened to be present, "after all, the 
 old names count for something still." 
 
 "And so does the prospective ownership of 
 K. O. K.," said Mrs. Van Gaasbeck, buttering 
 toast. 
 
 "But do you think Alida will accept young 
 Osterhout?" Miss Deusenbury inquired, anx 
 iously. 
 
 "She is much too ill-behaved, I fear, to ever 
 get the chance," said Mrs. Van Gaasbeck, biting. 
 
 But Mrs. Van Gaasbeck was not then aware of 
 a scene that had taken place behind the red ma 
 hogany doors before the century was two weeks 
 old. 
 
 It happened on a lowering afternoon at four 
 o clock, too early for the gas and too late to see 
 well without it. But the parlor fire was for once 
 hospitable, and as Alida stood with one foot upon 
 the fender, and her forehead resting on her hand 
 against the high, black marble mantelpiece, the 
 shabby room looked comfortable and inviting,
 
 K. O. K. 199 
 
 and Chancellor De Vos beamed ruddy, though 
 the Lady with a Rose attributed to Sully was 
 in shadow. 
 
 Presently Alida, hearing a step, raised her 
 head, and said, almost inaudibly: "I am very 
 glad to see you," to Bradish Osterhout. 
 
 "I need not tell you why I asked leave to come 
 this afternoon," he began at once, almost throw 
 ing his shining hat upon the red rep sofa, and 
 hastily unbuttoning his right glove. He spoke 
 with eagerness, and, like her, below his breath. 
 But his voice, a trifle harsh by nature, did not 
 lend itself well to the modulation, and the im 
 petuous movements were made mechanical by 
 certain rigid lines in his attire. That he was a 
 lover no one could have doubted Alida least of 
 all but he was a Frohman lover, freshly creased. 
 When he said that he need not tell why he was 
 there, he stood a moment in the firelight, waiting 
 for her to speak. 
 
 "I am afraid it is to say that the gardener can 
 spare me no more orchids," she suggested, in a 
 tone which made the words of small importance, 
 "and he is right, I don t deserve them." 
 
 Whatever Mr. Osterhout understood from this 
 speech was not betrayed by any change in his 
 regular, well-bred features, nor motion of his 
 small, neat head. 
 
 "You wrote me I might come," he said.
 
 200 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 "Yes," she replied, taking the burden on her 
 self, "I wanted to see you very much, I wanted 
 to speak to you about the flowers." 
 
 "To tell me that they bored you?" 
 
 "No, not that; not that at all. Only to thank 
 you for them and to say that you must not send 
 me any more," 
 
 He tugged at his glove nervously, and she 
 allowed the hand against the chimney-piece to 
 drop beside her. Then he came nearer, so near 
 that as they faced each other across the fire there 
 was but the fender s length between them. He 
 wore the pin which was the pennon of his yacht. 
 Alida had worn the pin herself on the day when 
 the "Serpent" won the cup, the day Johnny 
 Alexander made a stupid joke and the serpent 
 tempted her. 
 
 "You are letting me down easily," he said, 
 with an unmirthful smile; "you are being con 
 siderate of my feelings. Don t you know me 
 well enough to leave that out?" 
 
 "I did not think that you would mind about 
 the flowers," she answered, disingenuously, but 
 not with any purpose of deception. Whatever 
 poor words might come stumbling after, the 
 thoughts of both had gone on to the end, as 
 light goes on, as the unfettered soul goes on 
 in dreams. 
 
 "I don t mind anything but tact," he said,
 
 K. O. K. 201 
 
 coming back to dramatize the played-out comedy ; 
 "and I don t admit defeat until the winner 
 crosses the line. Then, I think I know how to 
 take my beating with the rest. Why did you say 
 that you were glad to see me?" 
 
 "Because I am," she said, regarding him un 
 flinchingly; "because I want to be so always. 
 And I want you to be glad to see me whenever 
 we meet, remembering only the good times we 
 have had, and the talks. Oh, why not just 
 remember them and go on being friends?" 
 
 "Why not remember them and go on being 
 something more than friends?" he urged. Then, 
 lowering his voice until it broke unmusically, 
 though being from the heart it had a music of 
 its own, he added: "Do you remember last 
 June that night upon the yacht?" 
 
 Alida turned her head to hide her face in 
 shadow. 
 
 "Do you remember what you almost said when 
 we were interrupted?" 
 
 "Yes, yes," she answered, hurriedly; "that 
 interruption saved us both." 
 
 "Saved us, Alida?" 
 
 She faced him suddenly as the impulse seized 
 her, looking full into his eyes. 
 
 "Yes, saved us," she repeated. "Would you 
 like to hate me? Would you like to be thankful 
 all your life that the cook fell overboard?"
 
 202 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 "No," he said, regarding her in wonder, "I 
 should not. " 
 
 "But you must," she answered, resolutely; 
 "it is only fair. I did not like you much then. 
 Not half as much as I do now, but I was going 
 to let you think I did. Do you understand? For 
 the sake of of everything." 
 
 "And can t you make me think so now for 
 the sake of everything I shall not quibble over 
 reasons." 
 
 "No, no, never that again! Please believe 
 that it was only for a moment. I think so differ 
 ently about such things now." 
 
 "About a little bit of money, I suppose," he 
 answered, bluntly. "Well, let us eliminate that. 
 If it cannot make me any better than I am, by 
 Jove, it cannot make me any worse." 
 
 "No," said Alida, earnestly; "but it could 
 make me worse, and it would go on making me 
 worse and worse." 
 
 When she broke off he stood waiting for her to 
 explain herself, watching her curiously, while a 
 lump of soft coal in the fire fell to pieces, blazed 
 up, and sent their shadows capering on the oppo 
 site wall. 
 
 "Mr. Osterhout, " she said again, speaking 
 slowly, with her eyes upon the flame, "I don t 
 want you to have any illusions about me. Last 
 summer when you were planning every moment
 
 K. O. K. 
 
 203 
 
 something new to give me pleasure, I was plan 
 ning, too; I was picking out the carriages I 
 meant to have, and the people I was going to 
 patronize, and the people I was going to cut. 
 That is a nice confession, is it not? Only the 
 horror of the old woman, the nasty, purse-proud 
 old woman that I saw myself growing into year 
 by year, saved us. You may not believe me, 
 but I was too good a friend to inflict her upon 
 you." 
 
 "Alida!" he protested, taking hope from the 
 unheard of argument, but she went on unheed 
 ing: 
 
 "If it could have been for a year, or five 
 years, it would have been different that would 
 be such a little part of life. But it must have 
 gone on and on till we were old, and afterward 
 perhaps forever and ever and ever." 
 
 "The prospect does not frighten me in the 
 least," said Mr. Osterhout, laughing for the first 
 time. 
 
 "But it frightened me," returned Alida, "and 
 it frightened me that I could even think of it. 
 People who like each other very much don t care. 
 That is the one sure way of telling." 
 
 If the quality of canvas had been in question, 
 the test of gun barrels, Bradish Osterhout would 
 have had an opinion and maintained it well. As 
 it was, he answered, prudently: "Alida, let us
 
 2O4 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 leave things as they are a little longer. You 
 like me better than you did last summer, and who 
 is to say you may not go on?" 
 
 "Oh, no; let us not do that !" she cried. "Let 
 us understand -each other now. It is not you, 
 indeed, it is not. It is life, long, long life that 
 must be as we make it. I do not know what I 
 want mine to be, but I do know what I shall not 
 let it be. " 
 
 "You mean the only life I have to offer you?" 
 he asked. 
 
 "Yes," said Alida, very softly, "that is what 
 I mean. " 
 
 They stood a little while before the fire after 
 this. A very little while for two who had come 
 near to looking into many fires side by side. 
 And then he moved away and carelessly caught 
 up his shining hat, for he could take his beatings 
 with the rest. 
 
 "I have been thinking of joining the Bradishes 
 at Nice," he said; "they are there, you know, 
 with the Eurydice." 
 
 "You will have a lovely time, I m sure," she 
 answered; saying again, "you ll have a lovely 
 time." 
 
 "Good by," he said, holding out his hand. 
 
 "Good by," she said; "God bless you." 
 
 One other moment by the fire the last. And 
 something else the first and last. But he
 
 K. O. K. 205 
 
 deserved better payment and she did not grudge 
 him this. 
 
 He seemed not to leave the dusky room, only to 
 fade into shadow out of her life, he and his yacht 
 and his automobile and his orchid house and 
 everything that was his, even his countless 
 spindles, weaving K. O. K. on every piece. 
 
 Miss Van Wandeleer did not enjoy the opera 
 that evening, and she found the conversation of 
 Johnny Alexander, who monopolized her, par- 
 ticulary insipid, and on the following morning 
 she cut her Italian lesson altogether. It was not 
 until twenty-four whole hours had elapsed that 
 an epistle from Bessie Brisbane restored her 
 spirits in a measure. 
 
 It had been Miss Brisbane s fancy to use her 
 father s Remington, and the pursuit of profi 
 ciency had tempted unwonted literary effort. 
 It ran : 
 
 DEAR ALIDA: 
 
 Just think how we have missed each other since New 
 Year s Day. I thought this morning that you might 
 venture out to return one of the several calls you owe 
 me, but now the rain is coming down for keeps, and I 
 have given up all hope of you or any one else. 
 
 Mama and I escaped yesterday and lunched at a 
 restaurant she loves to get away from home and eat 
 whatever she pleases and in consequence she has op 
 pression to-day, and I a cold. 
 
 Papa s dinner is developing into a barbecue, and as he
 
 206 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 will not adopt my suggestion of sending them in in squads, 
 I have to fight for my few poor little seats in the middle 
 of the table. Last evening when one of my guests sent 
 word that he had suddenly been called abroad (to Europe 
 or some such place, as Erbert would say), B. J. actually 
 appropriated the vacant chair to a protege: of his own, 
 a prairie product of unknown quantity who is to fall 
 to me. I hope you won t mind the diplomat, no one 
 else has him in such complete control. For our other 
 men, we shall have Leigh-Watkins and a Mr. Jacob, 
 who, at the age of twenty-seven, has done something 
 quite remarkable in Amalgamated Cheese. . 
 You see your dinner before you! The rest of the table 
 will cut very little ice for us. 
 
 This morning I have been helping Serena to make 
 card catalogues. When we feared she might not have 
 enough to do, we did not know our Schepmoes. She is 
 making card catalogues for everything in the house, from 
 the books to B. J. s shoes, and to-day she and I together 
 devised a new one to be called "A Catalogue of 
 Acquaintances for the Newly Rich." The cards are 
 to be something like this: 
 
 Name and address. 
 
 Place and date of introduction. 
 
 Incidents of interest. 
 
 Husband, if married. 
 
 Children, if any. 
 
 Incidents of interest. 
 
 Favorite topic of conversation. 
 
 Fad, religion, or dressmaker. 
 
 Incidents of interest. 
 
 We hope to improve on this, and shall be grateful for 
 suggestions, but B. J. is most discouraging. He pretends 
 to have once presented a Guest Book to a maiden aunt
 
 K. O. K. 207 
 
 who honored him with the first entry, and wrote under 
 "Remarks" big appetite grumpy. 
 
 Uncle Wenny dear old chap is in Colorado with an 
 unwilling nephew as a sort of caddy. He is sending us 
 a caribou head. What? and why? Leigh-Watkins 
 dropped in yesterday. He considers you sympathetic 
 and high-minded. Incident of interest a Martini. But 
 
 mama made him take it to keep out the cold 
 
 Dear me! and I meant to be so tactful. 
 
 Do come as early as you can on Thursday, The 
 brougham will be there by seven, with a maid (MacGuffin). 
 Faithfully yours, 
 
 ELIZABETH BARRETT BRISBANE.
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 A LITTLE LADLE 
 
 Upon the day of the Brisbane dinner a pleasur 
 able flutter filled the breasts of the good ladies 
 in Kenilworth Place. To be sure but one of 
 their number had been bidden, but this was in a 
 way a recognition of them all. The New People 
 the impossible New People were beginning to 
 understand. 
 
 For this was to be no ordinary dinner, as the 
 readers of the morning newspapers were aware. 
 The Bonfire had indeed devised a cartoon com 
 memorative of the occasion, an octopus beneath 
 a table, uplifting many tentacles, each terminat 
 ing in a head of one of Mr. Brisbane s supposed 
 guests: the Beef Trust, the Cracker Trust, the 
 Candlestick Trust. The Billion Dollar Banquet, 
 it was called, and the fare appeared to consist 
 largely of banks and locomotives. Clearly events 
 must be impending when a gentleman of B. J. s 
 known propensities invites an octopus to dine. 
 
 At luncheon, though the company tried to 
 keep away from it, the topic of the Brisbanes 
 kept recurring. Once Mrs. Van Gaasbeck, ap 
 parently forgetful of the coffee-spoon incident, 
 208
 
 A Little Ladle 209 
 
 said: "I saw a photograph of their new sleigh in 
 a Sunday paper. It was really a most surprising 
 equipage." 
 
 "Was it a Russian sleigh with streamers?" 
 asked Alida. 
 
 "Yes; you have driven in it, I suppose?" 
 
 "Only once for a little way in the park. It 
 was very comfortable." 
 
 "Was it, indeed, my dear? But don t you 
 think the real old-fashioned ones more so? 
 I have in mind a yellow one I noticed not long 
 since." 
 
 Late in the afternoon Bessie sent Mr. Love, 
 with violets for Alida, and a bulletin from the 
 center of disturbance. 
 
 Miss Schepmoes, it appeared, had taken the 
 bit in her teeth. She had rearranged the sit 
 tings all except six in the middle; she had 
 upset the musical programme, and she had coun 
 termanded half of the wines. She had, more 
 over, declared an intention to herself reign 
 regent in the ante-room of service. 
 
 "We are prepared to see Serena in a dress suit, 
 personally conducting the canvas-backs," Bessie 
 wrote. 
 
 Alida s gown was to be of blue and silver, and 
 it was to be everything that Bazet could make it. 
 For Bazet had taken in another floor and was 
 paying off mortgages in the Borough of the
 
 210 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 Bronx. "Mademoiselle," she had said, in her 
 guileless, Gaelic way, "it would be ruin if you 
 did not have the most beautiful dress at the din 
 ner. Name of Deity, think of my children!" 
 
 And so, some hours later, Miss Van Wandeleer, 
 mindful of the young Bazets, rolled up the bril 
 liant avenue without a cloud as big as a cab fare 
 to dim the prospect of the evening s pleasure. 
 But one small fly lurked in the ointment of hef 
 satisfaction, and the name of that fly was Van 
 Gaasbeck. 
 
 "There ll be a hot time in the old town to 
 night," said Bessie, nodding her approval in the 
 dressing-room, while the kneeling MacGuffin 
 removed Alida s fur-lined boots. "You make 
 me feel like a Canadian quarter in a bull market, 
 as papa says." 
 
 Alida, thrusting out a small, blue foot to re 
 ceive its slipper, looked up, laughing. 
 
 "I was going to say something complimen 
 tary," she answered, "but I sh n t attempt to 
 compete with Mr. Brisbane." 
 
 "Oh, never mind," cried Bessie, "I am suffi 
 ciently conceited; Schepmoes said just now that 
 I had an air! An air; and only Jacob and the 
 diplomat, and Leigh-Watkins to breathe it. 
 
 "But you forget the cowboy," said Alida, her 
 spirits rising as the buzzing of the fly Van Gaas 
 beck grew remote. The room was a boudoir of
 
 A Little Ladle 211 
 
 Badrilbadour; somewhere down the marble stairs 
 musicians were tuning violins in a grove of palms ; 
 Bessie s blue eyes were bright with their most 
 expansive "I ll-divide-my-pile-with-you" expres 
 sion, and Alida noted that, although her pink 
 gown was worth a squire s ransom, she did not 
 wear a single jewel. 
 
 "It seems that he is not a cowboy after all," 
 explained Miss Brisbane, seating herself upon the 
 arm of a chair; "but a sort of Rocky Mountain 
 Moses, who used to read Macaulay to miners in 
 an opera house to cultivate their ideals; and he 
 made them all play Brutus and Cassius instead 
 of keno, and they gave up lynching and took to 
 Dickens parties. I m not quite sure about the 
 details, and it don t sound very exciting, but 
 B. J. says it shows what can be done. I am 
 afraid Jacob will have to be my main reliance; 
 they say he is musical when not mercenary." 
 
 "And I am to have the clergyman and the 
 diplomat?" 
 
 "Yes; church and state. Remark that early, 
 Leigh-Watkins is sure to think of it. The rest 
 are just assorted multimillionaires. I should not 
 be surprised if the Anarchists were to take 
 advantage of the occasion. If you feel any 
 thing moving under the table, don t scream, 
 it will be only a Pinkerton man in search of 
 dynamite."
 
 212 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 "How very exciting! We sha n t be dull a 
 moment." 
 
 "I m not so sure of that. There won t be any 
 fun but what we make ourselves. I wonder if 
 Serena told them to begin with that wedding 
 march!" 
 
 "Perhaps it is an omen," suggested Alida. 
 
 "Then you can have it," returned Bessie, 
 generously. 
 
 The talk was interrupted by the entrance of a 
 large lady draped in fur from head to foot. But 
 presently, under the ministrations of MacGuffin, 
 she became a vision of St. Anthony, whose 
 dreams were realistic for a monk. As she 
 emerged from her outer covering one wondered 
 if there had not been some mistake, but she had 
 her limits. 
 
 "I am Mrs. Harris Fosdick, the fat Mrs. Fos- 
 dick," she broke forth even her mode of speech 
 was cut a trifle low "and this is Bessie, I am 
 sure." But as it happened she had hit upon 
 Alida for her greeting, and the error being ex 
 plained, she said, with kindly patronage, "Well, 
 whoever you are, you re pretty enough to be 
 anybody." 
 
 Miss Brisbane made a face behind the ample 
 alabaster shoulders. "This is Miss Van Wande- 
 leer, " she drawled. 
 
 "Not the Miss Van Wandeleer, not Alida! I
 
 A Little Ladle 213 
 
 might have known it! And you are Bessie. 
 Bless my soul, you are a pair. I pity the young 
 men between you. Have a good time, my dears, 
 before you get too fat." 
 
 Both girls looked modestly unconscious, and 
 t other guests arriving, they slipped out unob 
 served and down the stairs to where the host and 
 hostess stood before the drawing-room fire. 
 
 "The Night Before the Execution, group six 
 in catalogue," murmured their daughter, feel 
 ingly, and B. J., springing forward, cried: "Ah, 
 the Princess Alida. Permit me the honor " 
 which honor consisted in drawing Alida s hand 
 through his arm and leading her to Mrs. Bris 
 bane, who had lost a glove-button and didn t 
 care. There was a faint odor of lemon peel in 
 the air. 
 
 "Here is Miss Alida, mama," said B. J., "and 
 she insists on going in with the cleverest and 
 handsomest man in the room." 
 
 "But, Ben, you have to take in Mrs. Fosdick, " 
 said his wife, and thereupon there was mirth at 
 her expense. 
 
 "Indeed you think yourself very smart," re 
 sumed the lady, pertly; "I should not have said 
 that if there had been another man in the room." 
 
 "If any one monkeys with mama to-night, I 
 see his finish," remarked Miss Brisbane, in 
 hyperboles.
 
 214 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 "It s awfully good of you to help us with our 
 business men," said Mrs. Brisbane to Alida; 
 "but I m afraid you may find them hard to talk 
 to." 
 
 "I m rather good at listening, " said Alida, and 
 Bessie put in, warningly: "Don t do that. I 
 listened once to Mr. Fosdick after one of father s 
 dinners. I didn t understand a word, but fancied 
 we were getting on splendidly, until he ended 
 with very truly yours, Harris Fosdick. He 
 thought he had been dictating to his type 
 writer!" 
 
 Then other guests came in quick succession, 
 filling the drawing-room with the noise of many 
 voices pitched too high. The men were much 
 alike, and differed only in the matters of weight 
 and whiskers; keen-eyed men, whose thoughts 
 were a day ahead of time, and to whom the hours 
 of social life were but blank spaces on a mighty 
 ticker tape. The diplomat, among them, looked 
 small and foreign, and the Reverend Leigh-Wat- 
 kins, unsophisticated. The women were re 
 splendent, but they did not interest Alida, who 
 being twenty, thought it of small importance 
 what forty might have on. As she looked over 
 the assembly she saw that Bessie had not exag 
 gerated its possibilities of dullness. 
 
 "Let me stand here by you and watch the boys 
 turn green with jealousy," whispered B. J., gal-
 
 A Little Ladle 215 
 
 lantly. Alida had never seen him so effusive in 
 his greetings or known him laugh so readily. 
 His eyes were snapping, and when he listened to 
 what was said to him, he moistened his lips con 
 tinually. She wondered if he could be nervous 
 at giving so large a dinner, but dismissed the 
 thought as improbable. Then something rather 
 odd occurred. 
 
 Mr. Jacob, very slick and smooth Alida re 
 called a previous meeting with Mr. Jacob 
 appeared before B. J. from nowhere in particu 
 lar, and said, without further greeting, the mys 
 tic words: " All right. " 
 
 "Good," said B. J., "the whole crowd in?" 
 
 "The whole caboodle," answered Mr. Jacob, 
 smiling mystically, "and we got the last at fifty- 
 seven." 
 
 "Good again," said Mr. Brisbane in the words 
 of Pumblechook, "hold on to every share." 
 
 Alida, feeling herself superfluous, made an 
 attempt to move away, which, though unsuccess 
 ful in the throng, recalled her presence. 
 
 "Hold on to every share," repeated Mr. 
 Jacob. 
 
 "No, sell five hundred to Van Wandeleer, " 
 corrected Brisbane. Alida, hearing her own 
 name, stood still. 
 
 "What initial?" inquired the other, taking a 
 small pad of paper from his breast pocket.
 
 2i 6 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 "A., "said Mr. Brisbane; "A. Van Wandeleer. " 
 
 "Sell at to-morrow s opening?" 
 
 "No, sell at fifty-seven." 
 
 "But it s sure to open ten points up, and it s 
 good for one hundred and ten!" 
 
 "I don t care; I have more than I want." 
 
 "But five hundred is nothing at all," protested 
 Mr. Jacob, incredulously, and B. J., laughing, 
 said: "Dear me, I m forgetting manners. Miss 
 Van Wandeleer, let me introduce my young 
 friend, Mr. Jacob. He and I sometimes get up 
 practical jokes. Will you kindly put your initials 
 on this paper? Just O. K. and A. V. W." 
 
 Alida, somewhat bewildered, took the paper 
 and wrote as she had been instructed. If there 
 was a joke on foot she was more than willing to 
 assist. 
 
 "And now," said B. J., laughing, "if it should 
 happen to rain mush, the Princess will have a 
 little spoon, will she not, Jacob?" 
 
 "A little ladle, we hope," replied the smooth 
 young man, politely. 
 
 "Ben, Bessie is looking for you everywhere," 
 said Mrs. Brisbane, who forgetting that she was 
 not a guest, passed on the arm of the Candle 
 Stick Trust. 
 
 "Yes, it was in the gallery of the Stock Ex 
 change," Mr. Jacob was reminding Alida, "and 
 Brisbane called me out."
 
 A Little Ladle 217 
 
 "Yes," she assented, "and I was never more 
 excited in my life. It was like a bear garden." 
 
 "Please say a bull fight," pleaded the broker, 
 laughing; "but I have seen you at the opera 
 many times since then." This brought a milder 
 aspect of his nature to the fore, and Wagner 
 lasted till the diplomat presented his cre 
 dentials. 
 
 To Alida he was a colorless little alien, who 
 had fallen to her lot before at dinners and would 
 probably so fall again. As he stood now before 
 her, with his upright hair of Teutonic brown, his 
 wide, Muscovite mouth, and Parisian mustaches, 
 it would be difficult to name at once the friendly 
 nation of his origin; for as he spoke all 
 tongues including English with a continental 
 accent, he might have represented any one of 
 several. Popular belief held him to prefer New 
 York climatically to Washington, though stories 
 from the capital city gave other reasons for his 
 absence. 
 
 "And now we must speak French the entire 
 evening," said Alida, as they moved away from 
 Mr. Jacob, "and you may correct my American 
 accent." 
 
 "But I cannot think of Miss Van Wandeleer 
 as an American," he answered, with a courteous 
 bow, for this was his most diplomatic compli 
 ment.
 
 2i 8 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 "It is so nice in you to say that. Those are 
 the little things we recall when international 
 differences arise," she answered, sweetly; and 
 this was as far as sh ever ventured in politics. 
 
 "And who are all these people?" he asked, 
 with an inclusive sweep of the assembly. "I 
 have never seen one of them before. Such 
 women! Ugh! You are a white fawn among 
 anecdotes!" 
 
 "Anecdotes?" she repeated. 
 
 "Yes, are they not? B-a-a-a!" returned the 
 diplomat. 
 
 "Oh, yes, nanny-goats! I understand. And 
 don t you know them? Well, that one over there 
 is our hostess, and the kid beside her is her 
 daughter, and beyond them in black velvet is the 
 nanny-goat at whose stable you and I dined last 
 week." 
 
 "Ah, that was an evening I have not forgot 
 ten," he whispered, losing interest in the com 
 pany. "And I scarcely hoped to find you here 
 to-night." 
 
 Alida was never certain whether the last words 
 were spoken by the diplomat or by another or by 
 both at the same time. She only knew that for 
 a moment the things and people near her faded 
 and grew indistinct as through falling snow; that 
 the music of the violins became suddenly clamor 
 ous, like the music of bells like the bells of
 
 A Little Ladle 219 
 
 Trinity. Storm, midnight, and the City of 
 Silences passed before her, and then an old man 
 in a yellow sleigh. It seemed that she herself 
 had just been speaking, saying foolishly to some 
 one who held her hand in a great fur glove that 
 the Snow Queen did not want to melt. Perhaps 
 the fact of her hand being held somewhat tightly 
 in reality contributed to the illusion. 
 
 "At last!" said Anthony Bogardus, or that 
 was what she thought he said, for the procession 
 was forming all about them with confusion of 
 tongues, and Alida, who did not like to shout, 
 looked up and nodded her head. 
 
 "But you told me you knew no one in the 
 city," cried Bessie, who was close behind Bogar 
 dus and appeared to exercise proprietorship. 
 
 Then Mrs. Fosdick the fat Mrs. Fosdick 
 backed in between them, to avoid some one who 
 was backing into her. Finding herself within 
 confidential distance of another, the excellent 
 woman raised her fan to whisper, and as that 
 other chanced to be Miss Van Wandeleer, she 
 said: "I notice that the Brisbane girl selected 
 the best-looking man for herself. Pitch in, my 
 dear, and cut her out!" It was by such timely 
 hints that she kept society from stagnation, and 
 kept herself amused. But to Alida, humbly wait 
 ing her turn among the less important, the words 
 suggested only a depressing dread lest she and
 
 22o The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 Bessie should ever, for any cause, become less 
 good friends. 
 
 One skilled in the analysis of emotions might 
 have found cause for uneasiness in this sudden 
 fall from reason, but Alida, marching in to din 
 ner, speculated only whether the backs of 
 people s necks ever really betrayed their feelings. 
 
 "This is the first New York house I have ever 
 been in, " she heard some one say behind, and she 
 wondered, resentfully, if Bella Ruggles s estab 
 lishment in his eyes was not even a house. With 
 a sudden inspiration she turned to the diplomat, 
 speaking volubly in French, and he, growing 
 gay and gallant, whispered something that she 
 did not hear. Nevertheless when Bessie men 
 tioned snow she laughed aloud, so as not to learn 
 that somebody had never been in a New York 
 sleigh.
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 FEEDING THE OCTOPUS 
 
 The Billion Dollar Banquet, from Miss Van 
 Wandeleer s point of view, consisted of herself, 
 a gentleman on either side, and her three oppo 
 site neighbors. By certain movements of the 
 head she could find a vista between candles and 
 flowers, at the end of which a featureless B. J. 
 discoursed in pantomime, and in the other direc 
 tion Mrs. Brisbane was in like manner discover 
 able. Sometimes, borne upon a favoring breeze, 
 she heard the laugh of Mrs. Harris Fosdick. 
 But these might have been phenomena of a mere 
 Million Dollar Banquet, and if the Octopus per 
 formed any interesting antics she missed them 
 altogether. 
 
 During the earlier courses she occupied herself 
 pleasantly in causing the Reverend Mr. Leigh- 
 Watkins to forget the existence of another neigh 
 bor, and in maintaining the diplomat s attentions 
 just below the danger point for hands beneath 
 the table-cloth. 
 
 It was in the sixty seconds following fish 
 Serena s entree acts were nicely timed that Alida 
 received her first reminder from Miss Brisbane,
 
 222 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 in the shape of a Black Hamburg bowled with 
 accurate aim toward her dinner roll. 
 
 "Are your ears burning?" inquired Bessie, 
 leaning forward. 
 
 "No, not at all," replied Alida, flushing a 
 little. 
 
 "Well, they ought to be," returned the other, 
 and Alida blushed again, this time not a little. 
 She was sure that Bessie s partner had seen the 
 blush, but though the circumstance was most 
 annoying, the dinner after this took on another 
 character. 
 
 "Who is that big fellow over there?" demanded 
 the diplomat, with affected savageness, and 
 receiving no response he turned toward the lady 
 on his left, whom he presently discovered to be 
 the possessor of a neck. 
 
 "Have you been reading anything interesting 
 lately?" inquired Alida of the clergyman. 
 
 Mr. Leigh-Watkins received this evidence of 
 high mindedness with satisfaction. For the lady 
 he had taken in to dinner having lately made 
 submission to the Roman yoke, he, doubtless 
 unjustly, suspected a desire on her part to burn 
 him at the stake. Serena s humor was at times a 
 trifle crude. Imperfect knowledge concerning the 
 nature of Johannisberger had caused the tones 
 of eyebrows and mustache to become diffused, 
 and the official waistcoat, worn in connection
 
 Feeding the Octopus 223 
 
 with more worldly habit, seemed now an eccen 
 tricity rather than a badge. But as his outer 
 aspect acquired Watkins his voice grew musical 
 with Leigh. 
 
 "Trash," he replied; "I rarely read anything 
 else. It is my antidote for thought," and paus 
 ing a moment to smile at his own fancy, he added, 
 in a comfortable undertone of confidence, "Is it 
 not a luxury sometimes not to think?" 
 
 "It is one I can t afford," she answered. "I 
 always have to think, about clothes or meals or 
 engagements." 
 
 "Those are not thoughts but instincts," said 
 the thinker. "Surely this must be plain to you, 
 you who have a soul." 
 
 "Oh, no, I have not," said Alida; "I am a 
 soul and have a body." 
 
 "That s good!" exclaimed the other, warmly; 
 "that s really very good. It rather fits in with 
 a train of reasoning I have in mind. I fancy I 
 can use it." 
 
 "I hope you can," she answered, generously; 
 "It s not original." 
 
 "Scarcely, scarcely," rejoined the preacher, 
 with a tolerant smile; "but do you recall who 
 said it first?" 
 
 "No," said Alida, becoming thoughtful; "but 
 don t you think it sounds a little bit like Adam?" 
 
 "Roederer, sir, please, sir?" inquired the
 
 224 Tfo Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 seductive voice of a footman between them, and 
 Mr. Leigh-Watkins answered, "Yes, a little," 
 adding as in extenuation, "I find nothing so 
 refreshing as champagne." 
 
 Opposite, between Bessie and her companion, 
 a kindred voice was murmuring, "Roederer, sir, 
 please, sir?" and Alida s eyes chancing in that 
 direction, encountered the familiar face of 
 Edward Volkert, the corners of his mouth drawn 
 down, his eyes expressing vacuity, and his nose 
 slightly reddened. But Alida had never seen a 
 face so absolutely impassive, and he breathed 
 his formula from wooden lips. 
 
 "Roederer, mum, please, mum?" 
 
 As he deftly waved his bottle within an inch or 
 less of Mr. Jacob s ear, he bestowed upon Alida 
 an unseeing gaze, while his face assumed still 
 deeper lines of hopeless bondage. 
 
 "Oh, Miss Van Wandeleer, I trust you are not 
 ill!" exclaimed the clergyman, dipping the corner 
 of his napkin in champagne. 
 
 "Slip out with me to the palm-garden, the air 
 will do you good," whispered the urgent accents 
 of diplomacy. 
 
 "Oh, it is nothing," the sufferer protested, "a 
 bread crumb, that is all." 
 
 But after this she watched the flitting shapes 
 of shadowy elementals beyond the aura of the 
 table with nervous apprehension.
 
 Feeding the Octopus 225 
 
 She saw him several times again, with his 
 slightly reddened nose and ridiculous drawn lips, 
 and upon each occasion feared another crumb. 
 And presently, when the apparition faded alto 
 gether, it added nothing to her comfort to know 
 that it was hovering behind her back. 
 
 "Your latest footman is quite perfect," she 
 told Bessie when next they spoke, and Miss 
 Brisbane, with a look of horror, exclaimed: 
 "Great Scott, you don t mean Schepmoes!" 
 
 On being reassured, Miss Brisbane evidently 
 gave her neighbors a picturesque version of the 
 story of Serena, while Alida and the diplomat 
 discussed a foreign literature of which she knew 
 little and he less. In confidence he told her that 
 the lady of the neck had invited him to call. 
 
 "But I shall not do so," he added, heartlessly. 
 
 "Were you not going to tell me something 
 about a line of thought?" Alida asked the clergy 
 man, when his turn for notice came again. 
 
 Mr. Leigh-Watkins, if he had been silent for a 
 space, had not been idle, and there was a twinkle 
 in his brown eyes not in accord with the appar 
 ently untasted state of his wine-glass. 
 
 "I was about to tell you," he replied, "of a 
 pamphlet I am writing, entitled, The Errors of 
 Creation. Does not the idea appeal to you?" 
 
 "No," said Alida, frankly; "it strikes me as 
 very wicked."
 
 226 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 "You take too low a view of Providence, I 
 fear," he said, with much solemnity; "to me 
 there is no hope but in the mighty blunders of 
 Omnipotence." 
 
 "How can you say such things?" Alida cried, 
 indignantly. 
 
 Mr. Leigh-Watkins moistened his lips with 
 Roederer and set down his glass, which it might 
 have been noticed, became immediately full 
 again, while at the same moment Alida fancied 
 herself to hear, faintly and as by long distance 
 telephone, the words, "Edward, be silent!" in 
 the voice of Grandma Epps. 
 
 "Are not evolution and progression the laws 
 of being?" demanded Mr. Leigh-Watkins in the 
 language of his pamphlet. "Can Deity make 
 laws and disregard them? Shall the marching 
 universe in time overtake its creator? Shall it 
 pass him ultimately, leaving him behind? Yet 
 this must come to pass if he stands still; and to 
 be incapable of error is to be incapable of 
 advance." 
 
 "If that were true and I don t believe it is 
 there would not be much left," returned Alida. 
 
 "There would still be faith," he answered. 
 
 "Faith in what?" she demanded. 
 
 "Faith in ourselves," said Mr. Leigh-Watkins, 
 meeting her eyes, dreamily; "faith in the Divine 
 light within us."
 
 Feeding the Octopus 227 
 
 "I haven t any light in me," replied Alida, 
 "not a glimmer." 
 
 Mr. Leigh-Watkins laughed a mocking laugh 
 and sipped. "We, all of us, have that within us 
 which we least suspect," he said, oracularly. "I 
 may think myself strong, and yet, who knows? 
 You think yourself a butterfly, light, careless, 
 gay, and yet I can believe you capable of a 
 supreme self-sacrifice. I can see you under the 
 impulse of a strong emotion hesitating at nothing, 
 nothing." 
 
 He smiled and watched the bubbles in his 
 glass, as though they gave him further insight 
 into Alida s desperate character, and they were 
 very active bubbles. 
 
 "I can think of you as Joan of Arc," he went 
 on, contemplatively, "as Constance De Bev 
 erly " 
 
 "I wish you would not," said Alida, who if 
 she must be thought of, preferred that it be in a 
 golf skirt at the least. "I assure you I am not 
 at all like either." 
 
 He leaned his head against the high back of 
 his chair and looked upon her dreamily with half- 
 closed eyes. 
 
 "Tell me what you are like," he murmured; 
 "tell me of yourself, your hopes, and fears. Tell 
 me what the world has been to you. Tell me 
 what you see before you."
 
 228 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 "I think it is terrapin," said Alida; "don t you 
 love it?" 
 
 "Love!" he repeated, bitterly; "you speak 
 profanely, Miss Van Wandeleer. " 
 
 "You would not think so," was her answer, 
 "if you had ever been in Baltimore." 
 
 Mr. Leigh-Watkins winced as if with pain. 
 
 "Don t," he pleaded, holding up a warning 
 hand; "don t spoil a golden moment such as 
 this. Though you may never know what love 
 can be, though you may never feel its anguish 
 and its fire " 
 
 "I hope I shall not," said Alida; "it does not 
 sound at all attractive." 
 
 She spoke gayly, and with the animation that 
 made most people at a table wish their seats 
 were nearer, but in her dread of what Watkins 
 Leigh had been bad enough might say next, she 
 would have welcomed a moderate earthquake, or 
 a mutiny among the cooks. Instinctively she 
 shot one swift, appealing glance across the table, 
 not toward Bessie, who was talking to Mr. Jacob 
 and wore an expression of such refined absorp 
 tion that Alida guessed her subject to be music; 
 not to the absurdly correct gentleman, who kept 
 his head inclined attentively toward the thin lady 
 at his side, and his eyes on people who were not 
 thinking of him at all; but to some one who had 
 come to her before when she was cold and lonely,
 
 Feeding the Octopus 229 
 
 and had cared for her and taken her safely home. 
 He would understand if he were anywhere within 
 a thousand miles and he did understand. 
 
 "Mr. Watkins," said Bogardus, leaning for 
 ward, after a nod to the thin lady which showed 
 her to be included in the new discussion, "have 
 you seen the article on thought transference in 
 the current number of the Psychic Research Jour 
 nal?" 
 
 "Some one is speaking to you," Alida told her 
 neighbor, who thus admonished, answered 
 shortly in the negative. 
 
 "Oh, you should not miss it," went on Bogar 
 dus; "it shows how we can become aware of the 
 exact impression we are making on our hearers, 
 a matter of great importance to the clergy, I 
 should think." 
 
 "It is not the sort of thing I am interested in 
 at all," replied the minister, attacking his terra 
 pin, savagely, and there was a provoking little 
 silver butterfly upon Alida s shoulder that seemed 
 to shake with merriment. 
 
 This broke the way to general conversation, 
 and as the Octopus had now grown sportive it 
 was possible to talk across the table without 
 exciting undue notice. Every one was talking 
 across the table. Everywhere formality was 
 relaxed. The grapes, when tired of posing, 
 dropped down and rolled upon the cloth. The
 
 230 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 candles cocked their shades to one side and did 
 not care what happened. 
 
 "And how is Bell?" Bogardus found an oppor 
 tunity to ask, and Alida, laughing, assured him 
 of Miss Ruggles s health. 
 
 "And when is she to marry Van Gaasbeck?" 
 
 "How do you know they are to be married?" 
 
 "He told me so." 
 
 "Doctor Van Gaasbeck?" 
 
 "Yes, he mentioned it last time I called on 
 him for a tonic. He has given me four since 
 New Year s Day." 
 
 Alida, who received this information, outwardly 
 at least, unmoved by sentiments of pity, allowed 
 several seconds to elapse before turning her 
 attention to her plate, which like all the Bris 
 bane plates, was well worth a close inspection. 
 When she again looked up, Bessie was exhibiting 
 a dinner card, whereon Mr. Jacob had sketched 
 a public character in seven lines. Mr. Jacob 
 always had a pencil. 
 
 This feat inspired the others to attempts at 
 simple entertainment with the means at hand. 
 Alida assayed a devil having a black Hamburg 
 for a head, and would have met with less success 
 but for a still, small voice behind her chair, which 
 whispered, "Use salted almonds for the horns." 
 
 Bogardus, with inverted, colored glasses, 
 showed how gamblers in the West deceived their
 
 Feeding the Octopus -231 
 
 dupes, and the diplomat obligingly amputated 
 his own thumb. Then Bessie, in default of other 
 accomplishments, was given two minutes to im 
 provise a toast, with this result: 
 
 " Here s to early friends, and late friends, 
 
 And a new friend every minute! 
 Here s to any old thing that fate sends 
 So long as we are in it." 
 
 The effort was not one of Miss Brisbane s best, 
 but the young people drank it laughing, and 
 Leigh-Watkins, observing his glass to be full, 
 made a mistake and drank it twice. 
 
 With the ices came a new diversion, emanating 
 from the fertile brain of Miss Serena Schepmoes. 
 
 Upon each individual pyramid of spun sugar 
 reposed an article of silver, which upon inspec 
 tion, proved symbolically appropriate to its 
 recipient. Banks for the bankers; oil barrels for 
 the illuminati; steamships for those who go 
 down into the sea by proxy, until it seemed as 
 though the Bonfire cartoon had been prophetic, 
 although the pleasure of the Octopus, in its toys, 
 suggested rather a sudden transition from a bil 
 lion dollar banquet to a children s tea party. 
 
 Alida s token was a Dutch windmill. Bogar- 
 dus received a cow-bell of practical dimensions; 
 Leigh-Watkins an alms basin almost large enough 
 for St. Jude s the Obscure; the diplomat a pro 
 jectile labeled Peace; Miss Brisbane a cat sug-
 
 232 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 gesting amusingly impossible contingencies, and 
 Mr. Jacob a cheese, presumably amalgamated. 
 
 "We don t deserve a particle of credit," Bessie 
 protested, in reply to many compliments; "Ser 
 ena Schepmoes thought of everything herself." 
 
 "Then I shall live in the hope of one day meet 
 ing Serena Schepmoes," declared Mr. Jacob, 
 unmindful of the disapproving visage of a red- 
 nosed footman. 
 
 Later, in the great square hall, whither the 
 company had trooped in discreet disorder, Alida 
 found herself near Mrs. Fosdick. 
 
 "Come over here, my dear, and sit by me," 
 began that lady, affably; "I don t believe in 
 bothering men when they are smoking. The 
 old way of shutting them up together was much 
 the best poor Harris never hears a story worth 
 repeating any more. Is not my cigarette case 
 fetching? Thank heaven for cigarettes! And 
 what is your favor? A mill? Good gracious! 
 don t let your cap go over it, my dear!" 
 
 Alida s knowledge of slang, though large, did 
 not extend beyond the native product. But 
 though the point of Mrs. Fosdick s merry jest 
 remained obscure, she thought the fat lady most 
 objectionable. 
 
 "I should like to find Mrs. Brisbane," she 
 remarked, casting a searching eye about her, but 
 Mrs. Fosdick said, still amiably: "Oh, no, you
 
 Feeding the Octopus 233 
 
 want to get away from me, and so you shall, my 
 dear, when I am through with you. Tell me if 
 Bradish Osterhout has really gone abroad." 
 
 "I have heard so," said Alida, stiffly. 
 
 "Why, then, it s true!" the other cried in 
 exultation. 
 
 "Yes, I believe he sailed on Wednesday." 
 
 "I don t mean that, I mean the story." 
 
 "I did not know there was a story," said 
 Alida, making a movement to escape, which 
 Mrs. Fosdick intercepted. 
 
 "Oh, then you must let me tell it to you, it is 
 too delicious," she insisted. "Of course I shall 
 not mention names, but there was a girl about 
 your age, my dear to whom he has been sending 
 orchids all winter in boxes you know how they 
 come. And only last week he sent her one, with 
 the cutest little note. Wear these to-night for 
 my sake, but, my dear, there had been some 
 mistake, for when she came to open the box, 
 there lay a suit of K. 0. K. " 
 
 Alida turned and hurried through the nearest 
 door, her only wish that every step should take 
 her further from the fat Mrs. Fosdick.
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 GREEN MINT 
 
 In the rose room Alida discovered Mr. Leigh- 
 Watkins, who did not smoke, seated in the center 
 of a circle of ladies who disliked the smell of 
 smoke, and from a sentence overheard, she 
 divined the reverend gentleman to be making 
 hay. 
 
 "My thought is terra-cotta, " he was saying. 
 
 She did not join the conference, for, however 
 charitably disposed toward trifling lapses on the 
 part of one thrown so much with ugly girls, she 
 detested terra-cotta. 
 
 Beyond the rose room lay the room of Flem 
 ish tapestries, where she had heard from Mr. 
 Brisbane the story of his pictures; the mountain 
 tunnel, and St. Martin of Madison Square. Here 
 she came upon many of the guests, a clear major 
 ity of the men, and of honorable women not a 
 few, scattered in standing groups, though invit 
 ing seats were in abundance, while the air grew 
 sweet with coffee and the faint incense of good 
 tobacco newly lighted. 
 
 In a distant corner two had found a resting 
 place; the diplomat and she of the neck, who 
 234
 
 Green Mint 
 
 23 
 
 had also in the interval developed arms. Aside 
 from these and Mr. Brisbane, Alida, for the mo 
 ment, saw no one of her acquaintance. 
 
 B. J. stood near the door by which she had 
 come in, in company with two of his guests. 
 One was a white gentleman; white of hair and 
 pointed beard and shirt front and tie and studs 
 and waistcoat; so colorless, indeed, was he that 
 Alida, whose habit was to generalize, called him 
 at once the Double Blank. The other being 
 beady-eyed and broad of beak, she called the 
 Swallow for convenience. It would not have 
 pleased these pillars of society had they known 
 of this, but it might have afforded them matter 
 for reflection. 
 
 Brisbane was in the act of demonstrating some 
 interesting fact upon the polished surface of a 
 Flemish table, where lay the nucleus of Bessie s 
 collection of bindings which would probably 
 remain a nucleus. And he had piled the books 
 together as though they had been blocks of wood. 
 
 "There," he explained, sliding a vellum cover 
 across the board, "that is San Francisco, and 
 here (he slid another cover in the opposite 
 direction), here is New York. That statuette 
 Mercury, I believe can represent Chicago, which 
 completes the triangle. Problem: to prove the 
 two sides longer than the base." 
 
 "I do not question that the straight line is the
 
 236 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 shorter," declared the Double Blank, and the 
 Swallow said: "My point is that your apex hap 
 pens to be Chicago. We can t ignore Chicago." 
 
 "If we can t," answered Mr. Brisbane, "we 
 leave the way clear for the man who can." 
 
 "Brisbane," said the Double Blank, regarding 
 Bessie s bindings, thoughtfully, "it may seem an 
 odd question at this late day, but what is it that 
 you expect to accomplish ultimately?" 
 
 "I expect to cross the continent in fifty hours. 
 In fact, I mean to do so." 
 
 "Whew!" said the Swallow, "how are you 
 going to do it, flying machine?" 
 
 "No," replied Brisbane, "by the ordinary 
 market locomotive, if I can t do better. If there 
 is nothing to frighten a man in sixty miles an 
 hour for five hours, why should there be in keep 
 ing it up for fifty?" 
 
 "Good!" cried the Swallow; "go ahead, but 
 give me time to sell out before your first train 
 starts." 
 
 "And the present weak spot in the chain is " 
 began the Double Blank, but B. J. interrupted 
 
 "The weak spot is, a link that s missing alto 
 gether," he admitted, frankly; "The Big B. 
 crowd is holding out for Transcontinental at the 
 market price, share for share, theirs at fifty- 
 seven to ours at a hundred and ten, and we shall 
 be lucky to pull through at that."
 
 Green Mint 237 
 
 "Whew!" said the Swallow again, "suppose 
 the market were to break?" 
 
 "The market must not break. That s your 
 end." 
 
 "Mine?" 
 
 "Yes, yours and Fosdick s and the others. 
 Some of us gather cherries and others hold the 
 ladder even-Steven. " 
 
 "We must see what can be done," observed 
 the Double Blank, and the others seemed to find 
 this observation most amusing, while B. J. threw 
 the binding down as though to end discussion. 
 
 Alida had been vacillating between St. Martin 
 and the door, uncertain whether to regain the 
 hall by advance or retreat. 
 
 "Come, Miss Van Wandeleer," exclaimed the 
 host, catching sight of her, "come and save us 
 from the shop; we are talking of our shoelaces 
 like three old peddlers." 
 
 "Another daughter, I presume," remarked the 
 Double Blank, who never listened to what did 
 not interest him, and who disapproved of daugh 
 ters as a class. But the Swallow, who was a man 
 of greater tact, remarked that there could not be 
 too many Brisbanes, and while the matter was 
 being explained a servant brought a tray of little 
 cups. 
 
 "I presume you are fond of golf and tennis and 
 such things," said the Double Blank, severely,
 
 238 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 and Alida meekly pleaded guilty. Then the 
 Swallow asked if she resided in New York. To 
 her reply that the Van Wandeleers had been 
 metropolitan for the best part of three centuries, 
 he flippantly rejoined: "Whew! that must have 
 been before the ark!" 
 
 "No," said Alida, feeling reproof incumbent 
 upon her, "only just before the Golden Calf." 
 
 "By the way, do you remember what I told 
 you of the tunnel picture?" asked Mr. Brisbane, 
 in a lower tone, which gave the others an oppor 
 tunity to resume Big B. between themselves, but 
 before Alida could reply, a trifling interruption 
 occurred. 
 
 "Cigarettes, mum, please, mum?" 
 
 Mr. Brisbane, catching sight of a binding he 
 had dropped, stooped to pick it up himself, while 
 Alida took advantage of the moment to whisper, 
 "Edward Volkert, if you do not stop this in 
 stantly, I will give you away." 
 
 "Most ladies likes the cork-tipped best," he 
 said, respectfully. "They takes ome boxes to 
 the children." 
 
 A moment later he pressed his wares upon 
 B. J., whom he feigned not to recognize. 
 
 "Better take a andful, sir," he said, "most of 
 the gentlemen does." 
 
 Other guests came up to exchange pleasantries 
 with their host, and to admire his ornaments and
 
 Green Mint 239 
 
 pictures, and presently Alida found herself the 
 center of a court. But her customary court in 
 numbers only, and she missed her jester, Johnny 
 Alexander, and neither was she yet accustomed 
 to not expecting Bradish Osterhout. 
 
 Miss Van Wandeleer was tired of standing, and 
 more than tired of the generation which knew 
 not Joseph, and the face of one whose mother 
 had attended Fulham Priory, when it appeared, 
 was a satisfaction in itself. 
 
 "I believe that somebody is about to sing," 
 said Anthony Bogardus, "either Tannhauser or 
 Tristan, who has been liberated on parole and 
 must go back to Broadway and die in fifteen 
 minutes." 
 
 "Oh!" cried the others, in a chorus, "How 
 delightful!" 
 
 "Shall we go?" asked Alida, when they were 
 alone, as her companion showed no disposition 
 to conduct her to the music-room. 
 
 "If you wish it," he replied; "but I hoped you 
 might agree with me that Wagner without an 
 orchestra is too much like pretzels without beer." 
 
 "But I am very fond of Wagner," she pro 
 tested. 
 
 "And I of pretzels," he rejoined, and added, 
 simply, "Please don t go, I have been walking 
 for a full half hour. There never was a house, 
 I m sure, that contained so many rooms."
 
 240 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 "I should like to sit down for a moment," she 
 admitted. "Have you been looking at the 
 rooms?" 
 
 "No, only looking in them, and I should have 
 been still looking had it not been for the butler, 
 or footman, or whatever his exalted state may 
 be, whom you sent to find your fan. He very 
 kindly asked me if I had it, which brought about 
 confidential relations." 
 
 "How stupid of him," she commented. "Did 
 you notice that his nose was red?" 
 
 "Yes, very red. Do you know where this 
 trail leads?" 
 
 "Oh, only to another room and to the palm- 
 garden beyond." 
 
 "I have never seen a palm-garden," he said; 
 "please take me to it." 
 
 "No," she replied, "for if you have never seen 
 one you must have illusions. In reality they 
 smell of flower-pots, and there is generally water 
 on the floor. Come and I will show you the most 
 uncomfortable seat in the house." 
 
 But when they reached the high, gilded sofa, 
 where she had heard the story of the tunnel, 
 Bogardus found for her a foot-stool and a cush 
 ion. For himself he chose a low chair, from 
 which he could look up to her enthroned, and the 
 sense of being taken care of brought back a vivid 
 memory of the yellow sleigh.
 
 Green Mint 241 
 
 "And so you have made the acquaintance of 
 Doctor Van Gaasbeck?" she said, bestowing her 
 self comfortably. 
 
 "Oh, yes; I wanted to hear the sequel, and 
 doctors can t keep people out," he answered, as 
 though the ruse were quite excusable. "I could 
 not think of any other way." 
 
 "And he confided to you his sentiments for 
 Bell?" 
 
 "No, not at once. I spoke of Trinity, on New 
 Year s, and as it happened, he had been there. 
 It was all natural enough. Our confidences did 
 not get as far as Mr. Aukes. " 
 
 "Oh, was not Mr. Aukes amusing!" exclaimed 
 Alida, in time to make it clear that the ex-alder 
 man was responsible for her laugh. "Do you 
 remember?" 
 
 Bogardus did remember the speech which she 
 recalled, and mentioned another in his turn which 
 she remembered very well ; and presently they 
 were following Bowerie Lane again foot by foot, 
 from the Kissing Bridge to Vauxhall. 
 
 Alida confessed to him how she had stolen out 
 with Bell, which part of the expedition the doctor 
 had omitted mention of. Now that he knew Van 
 Gaasbeck the whole affair could be made clear. 
 Of Volkert she explained: "He is a boy I have 
 known all my life. He only does such foolish 
 things because he is young. His father was a
 
 242 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 distinguished lawyer, and he is studying law quite 
 seriously." 
 
 "Green mint, mum, please, mum?" 
 
 The interrupter was the red-nosed footman 
 who had sought the fan. 
 
 "No!" cried Alida, with alarming vehemence. 
 "No, no, no! Go away at once and don t come 
 back!" 
 
 The footman s wooden face relaxed into a grin, 
 and seating himself deliberately at the further 
 end of the high sofa, he crossed his legs and 
 rested his tray of liquors on his knee. 
 
 "I can t keep this thing up another minute," 
 he said, pleadingly, "and what s more I don t 
 want fifty cents." 
 
 "Mr. Bogardus," said Alida, sitting erect, 
 "this is Edward Volkert. I don t know how he 
 ever got here, but he has all the evening been 
 masquerading as a footman, and nearly driving 
 me insane. Please tell me what I am to do?" 
 
 "Oh, you are not responsible," said Volkert, 
 cheerfully; "just let me rest a moment and I ll 
 be off." To Bogardus he added, "If you don t 
 mind, sir, I should like to return you your tip. 
 There was no fan, of course, I only wanted to do 
 you a good turn. Don t mention it." 
 
 "Mr. Volkert," said Bogardus, who seemed to 
 have grasped the situation readily, "will you 
 accept a bit of well-meant advice?"
 
 Green Mint 243 
 
 "No," answered Volkert, "I am rather over 
 stocked with well-meant advice, as Miss Van 
 Wandeleer will tell you." 
 
 "Perhaps you will like mine better. Don t go 
 on studying law; your talents lie in quite another 
 direction." 
 
 "That is not advice," said Volkert, "that is 
 good sense. You do not happen to know the 
 direction, I suppose?" 
 
 "Yes," said the other, seriously, "I know it 
 well, for I have traveled the road myself, but it 
 will take you a long way from Trinity and the 
 Chinese army." 
 
 Alida, though greatly interested, cast anxious 
 glances toward the door, through which the 
 notes of German music came floating, modified 
 by Flemish tapestry. 
 
 "Edward, would you mind standing up to 
 talk?" she said. 
 
 "Or better still, come and see me at the Hol 
 land House," Bogardus suggested. "I mean 
 business, I assure you." 
 
 "All right," assented Volkert, springing to his 
 feet, and not averse to a postponement. "Have 
 a mint on me?" 
 
 Thus another interest grew up between them, a 
 flexible concern for the career of Edward Volkert. 
 
 "I should be so thankful if you would talk to 
 him," she said.
 
 244 Tfie Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 "I hope it may result in more than talk," he 
 answered. 
 
 Then their thoughts turned again to their own 
 affairs, to the eternal inquiry of youth you and 
 I how stand we in the horoscope of life, in trine 
 or square or opposition? 
 
 The crystals on her dress had reminded him of 
 snowflakes all through dinner. She had not 
 been very much surprised to see him; people 
 were sure to meet a third time, it was only the 
 second meeting that there was ever any doubt 
 about. He had known Brisbane in the West, 
 and their encounter had been accidental. 
 They agreed that B. J. was a most interesting 
 man. 
 
 "The last time he and I dined together, it 
 was at my house," he told her. "We had bacon 
 and potatoes, and in the evening made milk 
 punches. I remember his kneeling by the fire to 
 improvise a nutmeg grater with a nail, a ham 
 mer, and a piece of tin. It was as good a nut 
 meg grater as you ever saw." 
 
 "Where was your house?" she asked him, with 
 her eyes upon the tunnel picture; "in the moun 
 tains?" 
 
 "Yes, ten miles from any other." 
 
 "But was it not a difficult place to get milk?" 
 she suggested, with a little laugh that seemed 
 uncalled for, "or did you have a cow?"
 
 Green Mint 245 
 
 "Yes," he replied, "I had a cow. It s quite 
 a complicated story, but I had a cow." 
 
 "An Alderney?" 
 
 "Yes," he admitted, regarding her suspi 
 ciously, "it was an Alderney, and a most intelli 
 gent and interesting animal. She understood 
 everything I said to her." 
 
 Leaning back against her cushion, Alida 
 laughed again with satisfaction in her own acute- 
 ness. 
 
 "How very remarkable!" she said; "did you 
 ever try reading Browning to her?" 
 
 "Naturally," he answered, gravely, "and there 
 were several passages at which she always ceased 
 to chew." 
 
 "Tell me more of your establishment," she 
 commanded, trying to outdo him in solemnity. 
 
 "I won t," he answered, shortly, "not another 
 word." 
 
 "But you ought to," she protested; "we are 
 going to be acquaintances now, and I should 
 know something of what you have been doing all 
 your life." 
 
 "My life," he answered, "began with the new 
 century as the clock struck twelve." 
 
 Beyond the tapestries there was a sound of 
 clapping hands, and Alida, rising, said: "The 
 singing is over and we must all be going 
 home."
 
 246 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 "Do you think there is a chance of your being 
 lost in the snow soon again?" he asked. 
 
 "If it should happen," she rejoined, touching 
 the butterfly upon her shoulder to make certain 
 of that lively insect s well-being, "you may 
 expect a telephone from the Stray Child depart 
 ment. Meanwhile, if you should care to see me 
 in the nursery, my mother is at home on Thurs 
 day afternoons." 
 
 Bogardus shook his head. 
 
 "I can t come yet," he said ; "I must be some 
 body first I don t care who, but somebody 
 don t you understand?" 
 
 "Yes," said Alida, recalling painfully the 
 effect of his present name upon her relatives, "I 
 think I do, but " here she held out her hand 
 "I hope it will be soon." 
 
 "Meanwhile," he went on, keeping the hand a 
 moment in both of his, "will you promise to let 
 me know if there is anything I can do about 
 Volkert or any one else?" 
 
 She looked toward the door as though anxious 
 to be gone. 
 
 "I ought not to promise that," she answered, 
 hurriedly. 
 
 "I think it would be safe enough," he urged; 
 "the contingency is so remote." 
 
 "Well " she hesitated. 
 
 "Please promise; it is not much to ask."
 
 Green Mint 247 
 
 "I promise," she said, softly, and when, for a 
 fraction of a second, their eyes had met, she was 
 gone. 
 
 In the Brisbane brougham, homeward bound, 
 Alida wondered if it could have been possible to 
 mention Miss Bogardus of Fulham Priory without 
 betraying Cousin Caroline s aversion to the name, 
 and she was glad that she had not tried. She 
 smiled also to recall that he had once read 
 Browning to a cow; but she dismissed the mem 
 ory of her promise altogether. 
 
 One other occurrence of the Billion Dollar 
 Banquet remains to be recorded. 
 
 "Beg pardon, miss," said Mr. Love, as he 
 held open the carriage door, "but would you be 
 so kind as to tell me how high Big B. will sell?" 
 
 "Big B. !" she repeated, in surprise, "why I 
 think I heard it would sell at one hundred and 
 ten." 
 
 "Thank you, miss," said Mr. Love, bringing 
 his fingers to his hat brim, and Mr. Moneypenny, 
 bending from the box, said also: "Thank you, 
 miss." 
 
 Perhaps this incident may be of value when 
 the origin of the great house of Moneypenny & 
 Love is under discussion.
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 AN INSTRUCTION IN FITS 
 
 "Upon my word, this must be the January 
 thaw," observed Mr. Ruggles, looking out for 
 the tenth time from the dining-room window on 
 the dreary rectangles of back yards, sad with 
 slush, and for the fifth time repeating his obser 
 vation with unimportant variations. "Seems like 
 old times to have a January thaw, don t it, Miss 
 De Wint? You and I can remember when it 
 came along as regularly as the collection for 
 Home Missions." 
 
 Miss De Wint assented, it being her turn 
 to assent as four other ladies had before 
 assented. 
 
 It was Sunday afternoon following the Brisbane 
 dinner, and the rain outside beat sharp staccato 
 notes on every resonant surface, to the accom 
 paniment of mental leaders gurgling dismally. 
 
 The Ruggles household was assembled in the 
 dining-room where the light was best, and through 
 the open red mahogany doors the drawing-room 
 looked gloomy and deserted. A Sabbath calm 
 presaging naps was in the atmosphere, though 
 Van Gaasbeck, near a window, held a book, and 
 248
 
 An Instruction in Fits 249 
 
 Miss Toll assorted small envelopes with the 
 assiduity of one who plays a game of patience. 
 
 Edward Volkert, ever the most wakeful, occu 
 pied the dinner-table with the many supplements 
 of a Sunday paper, which he rustled continually; 
 and from time to time he read aloud such items 
 as he thought of general interest. 
 
 "Hello! listen to this," he said, smoothing 
 before him a column headed, "Wall Street Gossip 
 of the Week." " The Billion Dollar Banquet 
 Bears Fruit. That maybe good sense, but it 
 sounds queer! Now we may learn something of 
 Miss Van Wandeleer and the Octopus. Wild 
 rumors current in the street for several days 
 gave place to equally extravagant assertions yes 
 terday. These came too late to have a marked 
 effect upon the short Saturday session, but unless 
 some unusually stiff denials should be forthcom 
 ing, the Monday opening will be watched with 
 interest. It was admitted freely almost too 
 freely, perhaps by those possessing inside infor 
 mation, that the greatest railway deal of history 
 had gone through. No less than twenty roads are 
 said to have signed a protocol, the terms of which 
 are cheerfully indefinite. Of course the moving 
 spirit in this new Arabian enchantment is our 
 respected fellow townsman, Ben Jonson Bris 
 bane, to whom be credit given. And that no 
 element of picturesque similitude be lacking, it
 
 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 is further declared that a certain Billion Dollar 
 Banquet, with which the public has been stuffed 
 to surfeit, was eaten to celebrate the final burial 
 of a gross of hatchets. 
 
 " On the other hand, we are told that Uncle 
 Horace has declared, with characteristic candor, 
 that the Big B. can t be bought. Which leaves 
 the conservative investor in a position to keep 
 on guessing. 
 
 "Ah, yes, indeed," said Mr. Ruggles, who still 
 thought fondly of the sums he might have made 
 if he had only been on the other side of the mar 
 ket in times past. "A man could make a fortune 
 easily if he only knew whether Brisbane was 
 going to control Big B. " 
 
 "But he is," protested Alida, "I heard him 
 say 
 
 "Alida," cried Cousin Caroline, "I have no 
 idea of what you are talking, but if you must 
 associate with stock-brokers at least you need not 
 be an eavesdropper." 
 
 "I did not think of that," Alida declared, in 
 confusion. 
 
 "Oh, let her tell!" protested Volkert. "Come 
 Doctor, let s get hold of her and torture her; 
 you ve got a pincers in your pocket, haven t 
 you?" 
 
 "What is that you are going to do, Edward?" 
 demanded Grandma Epps, who had been dozing.
 
 An Instruction in Fits 251 
 
 "Oh, only pull out a few of Miss Van Wande- 
 leer s teeth." 
 
 "You mustn t do it, Edward, I forbid it," 
 murmured Grandma Epps, relapsing into slum 
 ber. 
 
 "Well, that s the only thing that saved her," 
 Volkert said, resignedly. "Here is all about the 
 party in another place," and again turning to 
 the paper, he pretended to read: " The dresses 
 of the ladies were unique, and all paid for: Miss 
 Lidy Van Wandeleer wore blue stuff .and span 
 gles; ornaments, a heart upon the sleeve; Miss 
 Betsy Brisbane, watermelon pink with black 
 seeds; Mrs. Harrie Fosdick, a purple skirt the 
 waist was out of sight; Mr. Edward Volkert, a 
 dress suit hired for the occasion at great ex 
 pense 
 
 "Edward," murmured Grandma Epps, "be 
 silent!" which admonition was obeyed until the 
 entrance of Bell a moment later. 
 
 "There was a wild report on Change that you 
 had gone to Sunday school, and all the heathen 
 were selling short," he said, as Bell closed the 
 door. 
 
 "I changed my mind," she answered, laugh 
 ing, for since New Year s night Bell laughed 
 much more easily than before, and Volkert s 
 standing had materially improved with certain 
 members of the household. Perhaps it was a
 
 252 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 coincidence, but Bell s change of mind had come 
 to her after Mrs. Van Gaasbeck had ascended 
 for her nap. 
 
 Presently, one by one, all the elders as 
 cended or descended, and the four young people 
 were alone. 
 
 "I suggest that Doctor Van Gaasbeck read 
 aloud to us," said Alida. "I am sure his book 
 looks suitable and improving." 
 
 "I am afraid it would not interest you," re 
 turned the doctor, flushing slightly; "it is just a 
 book of travel lent me by a patient." 
 
 "In what country?" asked Alida, with interest. 
 
 "Oh, in the West," he answered, thrusting 
 down the book beside him. "It is not at all well 
 written." 
 
 "I should think it would be very interesting," 
 persisted Alida, who had of late developed a 
 faculty for adding two and two. "The West is 
 so full of resources." 
 
 "Especially horned cattle," suggested Volkert, 
 absently, through his paper. 
 
 "One need not go near where they are," said 
 Alida, overlooking a rather obvious two; "I mean 
 the mountain part where the scenery is beautiful. 
 
 "I wish we could all go there," sighed Bell, 
 though the "all" was prompted largely by polite 
 ness. "I wish that we were anywhere but 
 here."
 
 An Instruction in Fits 253 
 
 "We don t, do we, Alida?" exclaimed Volkert, 
 sweeping the supplements to the floor and spring 
 ing to his feet. "We like the merry tinkle of the 
 mandolin, we like to be in touch with great 
 events." 
 
 Crossing to the mirror he stood a moment 
 arranging his hair, and when he turned, a surpris 
 ing metamorphosis had taken place. 
 
 "How is this? Anything like?" he asked. 
 
 His lips were drawn together in an expression 
 of firm determination; his brow had taken on 
 new lines, and upon his forehead lay the long, 
 black curl of the dollar mark. The suggestion 
 of Mr. Brisbane was so strong that Alida cried 
 at once: "How wonderful! I could almost 
 believe that Mr. Brisbane were standing there 
 himself!" 
 
 "Really!" said Bell, with interest, and Van 
 Gaasbeck wiped his heavy glasses for a better 
 view. 
 
 "Oh, that is nothing," Volkert declared, much 
 gratified, and impelled to further efforts. "Wait 
 till I work it up a little. Now watch me do the 
 president in full view of the audience." 
 
 "Oh, that is immense!" the doctor cried, in 
 unfeigned admiration, and Bella Junior clapped 
 her hands in honor of the president. 
 
 "Coquelin in L Aiglon, " announced Volkert, 
 and behold! Coquelin appeared.
 
 254 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 After this he gave other imitations of celebri 
 ties, and ended by drawing in his lips, and other 
 wise contorting his features till they all, with one 
 accord, cried: "Grandma Epps!" 
 
 "You ought to be ashamed of yourself," said 
 Alida, laughing in spite of herself, and Bell said, 
 "You should be on the comic stage." 
 
 "I ve thought of that," admitted the come 
 dian, with a wink toward Alida, "but true art 
 there is not appreciated. Why, Doctor," he con 
 tinued to Van Gaasbeck, "there is a fellow at 
 the Cosmopolitan who brings down the house 
 every night by having a fit, and I don t believe 
 he knows what a real fit looks like." 
 
 "He should take a turn in our emergency 
 ward," replied the doctor; "we do them there 
 most scientifically." 
 
 "That s what I say," went on the realist. 
 "Now tell me, did you ever see a fit like 
 this?" 
 
 As Volkert finished speaking, his neck ap 
 peared to lose its stiffness, his head dropped 
 forward on his chest, his mouth fell open, and 
 his eyes turned up until the whites alone were 
 visible, while with his fingers bent he clawed the 
 air. 
 
 "Stop that this instant!" cried Alida and Bell 
 together, and Volkert stopped. 
 
 "Is that like any fit you ever saw?" he asked.
 
 An Instruction in Fits 255 
 
 "Not in the least," replied the doctor, frankly, 
 adding with professional nicety. "By a fit we 
 generally mean epilepsia gravior, which is com 
 monly preceded by a scream or cry, due to the 
 convulsive action of the muscles of the larynx. 
 If the patient is standing he immediately falls, 
 and often sustains serious injury. Unconscious 
 ness is complete, and the muscles are in a state 
 of tonic contraction. The head is turned by a 
 series of jerks to one or other shoulder, the eyes 
 roll wildly, the teeth are gnashed together, 
 and the tongue and cheeks are often severely 
 bitten." 
 
 "If you attempt to do anything of that sort, 
 I ll leave the room," said Alida to the come 
 dian, and Bella added to Van Gaasbeck, "If 
 you tell him any more, I ll never speak to you 
 again." 
 
 "All right," acquiesced Mr. Volkert, amiably; 
 "much obliged, Doctor, for the tonic contrac 
 tions. If permitted I would do a fit from Fit- 
 ville, but as it is, I will now give you, by request, 
 an imitation of a gentleman going out into the 
 rain." Turning up his trousers, he left the room 
 not to return. 
 
 "I am sorry for that boy," said Bell; "he 
 does not appear to have the least ambition, and 
 I am afraid he must know the queerest sort of 
 people."
 
 256 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 "I am sure of that," replied Alida, recalling 
 Mr. Rooney. 
 
 After this Van Gaasbeck offered to read "The 
 Blessed Damozel," if Bell would produce Ros- 
 setti, and Miss Van Wandeleer retired to write 
 the letter enjoined by tact. 
 
 Alida s bedroom was at the end of a hall and 
 next to one larger occupied by Mrs. Van Gaas 
 beck. As she passed that lady s door, it opened 
 slightly and closed again with what sounded like 
 a click of satisfaction, for Mrs. Van Gaasbeck 
 was still upon the minaret, though with a face 
 set resolutely in the wrong direction. 
 
 It rained again on Monday, but Alida, suitably 
 protected, went to Jefferson Market with Bell, 
 whose suddenly developed interest in practical 
 matters had made her much more companionable 
 of late. In the spirit of adventure they pursued 
 their way a little into Greenwich, where attracted 
 by a placard, they inspected a vacant flat. It 
 was a purposeless proceeding, and entailed un 
 necessary steps on the part of a worthy German 
 janitor, but Bell regarded it seriously; and as 
 Alida saw how wistfully her eyes took in the 
 meager details of small dingy rooms, and cold, 
 ill-smelling closets, she thought that if she were 
 Providence, Bessie Brisbane should have one 
 dress the less and Bell her flat. 
 
 "I do not like this paper very much," said
 
 An Instruction in Fits 257 
 
 Bell, pretending to weigh the question of ten 
 ancy in her mind, and the janitor assured her 
 that a year s lease would entitle her to choose 
 another. 
 
 "Really!" said Bell, "how very nice. I should 
 choose something striped to make the ceilings 
 higher." 
 
 They talked of the flat all the way home, and 
 Alida made some excellent suggestions. "Of 
 course it is all years and years away," said Bell; 
 "but you know things do happen that one doesn t 
 expect." 
 
 "Always," replied Alida, with conviction. 
 
 That afternoon the newspaper boys made an 
 unusual clamor with the evening editions, and at 
 dinner the table learned from Edward Volkert 
 that Wall Street was in a frenzy of excitement. 
 The great Transcontinental deal had not been 
 denied, and stocks were flying up and down as 
 the effect for good or ill became apparent. Big 
 B. had led the dance, climbing to altitudes before 
 unsealed. Fortunes were tossed about like bales 
 of straw. Millionaires were penniless, and office 
 boys drove home in cabs. And about the facts, 
 the great American reporter wove garlands of 
 his own untrammeled fancy. 
 
 Alida borrowed the papers, and tried to glean 
 from them what B. J. s position in the tumult 
 might be. But while one journal held strongly
 
 258 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 that Brisbane and his kind were fitting subjects 
 for the electric chair, the other spoke of him as 
 a benefactor to humanity. It seemed clear, how 
 ever, from both accounts, that Bessie could now 
 have a regiment of men in fur, and a Russian 
 sleigh for each, if so disposed. 
 
 It was like a fairy tale, this narrative of poor, 
 and presumably deserving, persons elevated to 
 sudden opulence, and Alida pursued the reading 
 of it until she was left in the dining-room alone. 
 It was there that Mary brought a letter from the 
 late delivery. 
 
 The letter seemed at first a strange composite 
 of a circular and a bill, and Alida read it through 
 twice before its true significance dawned upon 
 her. In text it ran : 
 
 Miss A. VAN WANDELEER: 
 
 Dear Madam In compliance with instructions, we 
 have this day sold for your account and risk five hundred 
 shares of Big B. common stock at seventy-seven, as per 
 statement inclosed. As we understand it to be your 
 wish to close your account with this transaction, we take 
 pleasure in handing you herewith our check for balance 
 to your credit. 
 
 Trusting to be favored with your further valued 
 orders, we beg to remain, 
 
 Very truly yours, 
 
 JACOB & SANDERSON, 
 (Inclosure $9,869.50.) Per J. 
 
 The check inclosed was of a pretty pink.
 
 An Instruction in Fits 259 
 
 Alida s first thought was that somehow in the 
 mad lottery of which she had been reading, a 
 prize had fallen to her, just as prizes had 
 fallen to the office boys who rode home in cabs. 
 If blessings were descending if it were raining 
 mush, as B. J. had expressed it but when the 
 sequence reached Mr., Brisbane, the mystery 
 solved itself, and Jacob grew at once distinct 
 from Sanderson. 
 
 B. J. had played his little joke, but Alida was 
 not sure whether to be amused or not. Perhaps 
 it was true that the smooth Mr. Jacob had done 
 something for her account and risk; and perhaps 
 again it was only B. J. s way of making her a 
 present. It would be pleasant to have nearly 
 ten thousand dollars of one s own if rightly come 
 by; but it would be another matter to receive 
 donations under cover of commercial phrases. 
 
 Alida wished heartily that she had some one to 
 advise her, but it must be some one who would 
 understand the circumstances; some one who 
 knew Brisbane; some one whose judgment she 
 herself could trust implicitly. And there was 
 but one person in whom all these, conditions were 
 fulfilled. 
 
 Having reached this conclusion, Miss Van 
 Wandeleer wisely determined to relieve herself 
 of further anxiety by making it irrevocable. She 
 rang the messenger call and wrote a note, and
 
 260 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 when the messenger arrived she sent him with it 
 to the Holland House. It was a short note and 
 a formal; as formal as a note might be which 
 distinctly suggested a meeting at the Metropoli 
 tan Museum, at the given hour of half past three 
 the following day.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 THE BURDEN OF NINEVEH 
 
 As the north-bound Madison Avenue car 
 emerged from the tunnel at Fortieth Street, 
 Alida, from the window, noted the station clock, 
 which is always fast, to indicate ten minutes past 
 the hour. And this being the time which she 
 wanted it to be, she composed herself for two 
 more brown-stone miles. 
 
 Outwardly, she differed little from any other 
 young lady of an upper Madison Avenue car at 
 three P. M., who happens to possess a gray cos 
 tume, new undressed gloves, a Bazet hat, and a 
 spotted veil, and her mental attitude, in spite of 
 her errand, was not a study in psychology. 
 
 Miss Van Wandeleer seldom allowed herself to 
 do injustice to her intuitions by seeking reasons 
 to sustain them, holding such a course unworthy, 
 like questioning the sincerity of her friends, like 
 admitting possibility of error in her conception 
 of herself or of her race. To her, conventions, 
 commandments, and sanitary regulations, excel 
 lent institutions in themselves, would have no 
 reason for existence upon a planet peopled solely 
 by Van Wandeleers. 
 
 261
 
 262 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 Once only between Kenilworth Place and the 
 Assyrian Gallery did she falter, hesitate, experi 
 ence the twinges of regret, and this upon the 
 very threshold of the Metropolitan Museum. 
 She had forgotten that Tuesday was not a free 
 day. 
 
 "I am afraid this was rather a difficult place 
 to find," she said to Anthony directly, when one 
 step into the Assyrian Room had brought her 
 face to face with him, "but I thought as you 
 would be sure to come here sooner or later, it 
 would not be so much of an imposition." 
 
 "Oh, I had planned to devote this afternoon 
 to the Museum," he said. 
 
 "Before you received my note?" 
 
 "Oh, long before." 
 
 Alida suspected this to be untrue in letter, but 
 the story of his hour already passed in research 
 seemed more probable, for he had checked his 
 overcoat and bought a catalogue, which made 
 his presence there seem much less prearranged. 
 
 "You reached home safely the other evening, 
 of course?" he asked, neither indifferently nor 
 with too great concern. Aside from his old way 
 of taking everything for granted her friendship, 
 his right to serve her, their unquestionable un 
 derstanding each of the other the meeting 
 might have been an accident. 
 
 "I have been rather puzzled about something
 
 The Burden of Nineveh 263 
 
 connected with that evening," she began, dis 
 carding the preamble she had arranged; "not 
 Edward Volkert, but something else." 
 
 "To me it was a puzzling evening altogether," 
 he said, laughing. "I know very little of soci 
 ety almost nothing but I am sure no one but 
 B. J. Brisbane could have given such a party. 
 When I left, the clergyman was asleep in an arm 
 chair and Tannhauser had come back for supper. 
 You must excuse me if I m not sufficiently sur 
 prised." 
 
 "Mine is a long and complicated story," said 
 Alida. 
 
 "Then let me recommend my backless bench," 
 he answered. 
 
 The bench, which was in an alcove surrounded 
 upon three sides by great fragments of an Assy 
 rian frieze, afforded a convenient public privacy 
 where conversation might range at will from 
 sentiment to human-headed lions. It was a spot 
 where one or two might spend an hour or a 
 day without exciting comment. 
 
 "Now, to begin with," said Alida, when they 
 were seated, "you must read this," and she pro 
 duced the broker s letter from her muff. 
 
 Rather gratifying, I should say, he remarked 
 in comment, after mastering the contents with 
 surprising rapidity. 
 
 "And here is the check."
 
 264 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 "I don t think that a very safe way to carry 
 valuable documents," he said, laughing, as he 
 took the small pink paper, now slightly crumpled. 
 "You see a certified check is almost like money." 
 
 "Oh, I ve been very careful," she explained; 
 "I ve kept it folded in my glove." 
 
 He listened with attention as she told the few 
 circumstances of B. J. s joke, and of her own sur 
 prise at its result, and when she asked if it were 
 possible for Messrs. Jacob and Sanderson to have 
 done anything for her account and risk to pro 
 duce so much money in so short a time, he said: 
 "Yes, yesterday it could have been done easily. 
 You were but one of a great number who hap 
 pened to be in luck. I fancy Brisbane must be 
 richer by a million or so." 
 
 She sat in silence for a moment, folding the 
 pink check smaller without knowing what she 
 did, her eyes upon the human-headed lions of 
 the frieze, leaving him at liberty to make small 
 discoveries; that she wore a miniature golf club 
 in her back hair; that her muff was preserved 
 from falling by a braided cord about her neck; 
 that the gray thumb smoothing the check was 
 like an infant mouse. He might have learned 
 further that her eyelashes touched her veil, or 
 noticed the little wisp of warm hair across a 
 small, pink ear, but perhaps he had observed 
 those things before. When, presently, she
 
 The Burden of Nineveh 265 
 
 turned to him again, it took him a perceptible 
 fraction of a second to recall what they had been 
 speaking of. 
 
 "I don t know how to go on," she said, help 
 lessly; "I don t know how to make you under 
 stand exactly what my difficulty is." 
 
 "Perhaps I am not as stupid as you think," he 
 answered. "Let me tell you a parable. There 
 was once a man, out West of course and by the 
 way, the story is impossible a man, who having 
 no money to gamble with, went into a faro bank 
 to look on at the game. As it happened, at the 
 moment of his arrival at the table, a ray of sun 
 light fell through a knot-hole in the roof directly 
 on a certain card, making a round bright spot 
 the exact size of a silver dollar. Now the dealer, 
 mistaking this for a bet, went on to deal, and as 
 the newcomer had apparently won he was paid 
 several material dollars. The sequel was natu 
 rally a fabulous fortune, won from no other ven 
 ture than a sunbeam." 
 
 "Just like mine," Alida suggested, thought 
 fully. 
 
 "Only as far as the first investment goes," he 
 answered. "My man was thoroughly dishonest, 
 while your good luck is yours by every right." 
 
 "Every right?" 
 
 "Yes, every legal right." 
 
 "But I had no money either."
 
 266 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 "Mr. Brisbane became your surety, and as he 
 knew just how things were to go, he took no 
 risk." 
 
 "Why did he do so, do you think?" 
 
 "Through pure good will, let us say. He 
 would be capable of that; I have known him 
 willing to do much more for a man who had no 
 claim whatever upon him." 
 
 "A man who showed him where to make a 
 tunnel?" she inquired. 
 
 "Yes," he answered, laughing; "I forgot that 
 that must have been a part of the cow story." 
 
 "Ah, I remember now," she cried, seeing her 
 way with sudden clearness. "And you refused 
 to profit then by his good will!" 
 
 "That was a business matter," he protested, 
 flushing slightly; "I had been paid already on 
 my own terms. I could not take what I had not 
 earned. The two cases are not at all alike." 
 
 "How do they differ?" she demanded, looking 
 at him, fixedly. 
 
 Though his lips were parted for a ready answer 
 he changed his purpose suddenly, and asked : 
 "Do you want me to tell you my real opinion?" 
 
 "If I had thought you would not," she an 
 swered, "I should never, never have asked you to 
 come here." 
 
 "But suppose I should tell you not to keep 
 that check?"
 
 The Burden of Nineveh 267 
 
 "Then I should only be sure that I had been 
 right myself from the first," she answered, reso 
 lutely, and carefully unfolding the pink paper she 
 as carefully tore off the signature of Jacob San 
 derson, naively confident that thus might credit 
 balances be disposed of. 
 
 As she looked up half roguishly through her 
 spotted veil, as a child who has with malice afore 
 thought destroyed its toy, he said : "I don t think 
 you will ever be sorry for that." 
 
 "Indeed I shall," she answered. "I am sorry 
 now, and I shall be sorry whenever I want one of a 
 thousand things I always want and cannot afford. 
 But fortunately I shall now have some one else to 
 blame." 
 
 "Me?" he inquired, rather liking the idea. 
 
 "Yes," she replied, "whenever I have to go 
 without anything I suppose some people would 
 consider that ingratitude." 
 
 She spoke the last words in a lowered voice, 
 for a visitor had come into the alcove an old, 
 loud-breathing gentleman, whose coat was wrin 
 kled in the back. He scanned the human lions 
 heads with care, as though he hoped to find 
 among them the portrait of a friend. And as 
 each examination brought a louder breath, the 
 others assumed a disappointment. But all they 
 ever really knew of him was that his coat was 
 wrinkled in the back. When he had gone on,
 
 268 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 breathing, Anthony asked: "Would you be very 
 much offended if I were to call you a brick?" 
 
 "Not in the least," she answered, laughing. 
 "Am I really a brick?" 
 
 "Unquestionably you are a brick." 
 
 "Thank you," said Alida, holding out her 
 hand, because he appeared to expect this recog 
 nition of his compliment. But she withdrew it 
 almost instantly, whispering: "Here comes 
 another!" and they composed themselves to a 
 renewed study of Assyrian lions. 
 
 "Richard!" spoke a voice behind them, "Rich 
 ard Van Gaasbeck! What brings you here?" and 
 the voice was unmistakably that of Mrs. Bruyn 
 Van Gaasbeck. There had always been a small 
 minority, lax in principle, who had found excuses 
 for the late Bruyn in his taste for leading ladies. 
 
 "Oh!" cried Alida, standing up, and her com 
 panion, recognizing a minor catastrophe, rose 
 also. But Mrs. Van Gaasbeck, deserted wife 
 and doting mother, was first of all a woman of 
 the world. 
 
 "Why, dear Miss Van Wandeleer!" she ex 
 claimed, in amiable surprise, "I had no thought 
 of seeing you here. You must forgive me, really. 
 I was to meet my son with his cousin Lucy 
 Strong from Boston here this afternoon. You 
 know how absurd those Boston people are about 
 chaperons! And I meant to startle them. It
 
 The Burden ^ Nineveh 269 
 
 was so very stupid near-sighted as I am, I might 
 have made a serious mistake. Pray do not let 
 me disturb you." 
 
 As Mrs. Van Gaasbeck, sweetly smiling, moved 
 a step away, Alida s impulse was to let her go in 
 peace, but intuition urged a wiser course. 
 
 "I am sure the mistake was most natural," she 
 said. "I look so much like Lucy Strong. 
 (There was no Lucy Strong.) Please tell me if 
 you remember anything about Nineveh. We 
 were trying to make out. Oh, let me introduce 
 Mr. Bogardus. " 
 
 Mrs. Van Gaasbeck expressed her gratification 
 and renewed her explanations. 
 
 "My son," she said, "so often wears brown 
 gloves. Perhaps you know my son?" 
 
 "I think I have that pleasure," was the unex 
 pected answer, and the lady with whom "plac 
 ing" new acquaintances was a sacred duty, said: 
 "Not professionally, I trust?" 
 
 "Yes, quite professionally," Anthony rejoined. 
 "I am one of his most admiring patients," which 
 being an unpromising lead, Mrs. Van Gaasbeck 
 tried another. 
 
 "Your name is so familiar to me," she said. 
 "I had a school friend once who must have been 
 a relative of yours. Alida, my dear, you must 
 have heard your Cousin Caroline often speak of 
 Anita Bogardus."
 
 270 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 "Oh, yes," replied Alida, eagerly, "often; 
 they were at Fulham Priory together." 
 
 "Not at school together," corrected Mrs. Van 
 Gaasbeck, "but they met there some years later, 
 when your cousin went there for a visit. Her 
 brother was always at the house. It was all so 
 sad." 
 
 "I should not call it sad," returned Alida, at 
 a venture. She knew that Anthony was listen 
 ing, and hoped with all her heart to bring about 
 disclosures without allowing Mrs. Van Gaasbeck 
 the pleasure of disclosing. 
 
 "Ah, would you not, my dear?" went on that 
 lady. "You Dutch have your own way of look 
 ing at such things. Caroline behaved all through 
 with spirit, though some people thought she went 
 a step too far in blaming Doctor Groesbeck, just 
 because he performed the ceremony, which the 
 poor man had a perfect right to do." 
 
 "What ceremony do you mean?" asked Alida, 
 betraying her ignorance of family history in 
 anxiety to learn the truth. Even Anthony, 
 standing motionless beside them, could not be 
 more eager for the answer." 
 
 "What! don t you know?" cried Mrs. Van 
 Gaasbeck, highly gratified. "You Dutch are so 
 close-mouthed. Is it possible you have never 
 heard that Anita Bogardus married your Cousin 
 Caroline s brother, Anthony, who ran away to
 
 The Burden o/ Nineveh 271 
 
 the West, and died almost immediately? Now, 
 for goodness sake, don t say I told you, but it is 
 absurd to make a secret of what everybody knew 
 all about at the time. I am going now, before I 
 put my foot in it again. Good by, Mr. Bogar- 
 dus. I hope you are not related to any one we 
 have been talking of. Do drop in and see my 
 son again without waiting to get ill. Good by, 
 Alida, dear, it s so nice to see a girl of your age 
 interested in intellectual things. Was it not odd 
 our running across each other here? I shall tell 
 Richard all about it." 
 
 When they were alone again in the alcove, 
 Alida did not speak at once. She would have 
 liked to have gone away in silence, leaving him 
 to realize the significance of what he had heard. 
 She wished that he could have heard it from 
 another source, and told her afterward of his 
 own accord. It seemed in some way that she 
 was an intruder and where she had no right to 
 be, that when he spoke he must conceal his joy 
 from her, and that her own gratification must 
 seek a meaningless, conventional expression. 
 Then she knew that he was close beside her. 
 
 "My cousin Alida!" he whispered. 
 
 "My cousin Anthony De Wint," she answered, 
 without looking up. 
 
 "That is the first time I have ever heard my 
 own name," he said.
 
 272 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 "Hush," Alida whispered, warningly; "here 
 comes some one else." 
 
 "We have here reproduced in absolute fac 
 simile, a fragment of the walls of ancient Nine 
 veh. It was the voice of speculative archaeology 
 in a familiar field. "These lions with human 
 heads, typifying strength and intelligence, are 
 guardians of the gates of Paradise. But unlike 
 the Western fable, the Assyrian legend runs that 
 Adam and Eve are still in Eden under their pro 
 tection. Young ladies, if you will kindly step 
 this way, the light " 
 
 The young ladies appeared to derive much 
 satisfaction from the symbols of primeval bliss 
 before them, but later Alida said: "I can t be 
 lieve I ever was a horrid school-girl." 
 
 "I m very sure you never were," replied her 
 cousin her fourth cousin Anthony. 
 
 They had left the lions, passed through the 
 mummies dormitory, and were in the lobby where 
 the Bacchante makes herself at home before the 
 Greek philosophers, who would never have come 
 had they known what the entertainment was to 
 be. 
 
 "Everything will be arranged much better 
 when the new wing is open," Alida remarked, 
 objectively. 
 
 "Yes, that will be a great improvement," he 
 assented.
 
 The Burden of Nineveh 273 
 
 When she asked what the time was, and he had 
 told her nearly five, she declared that it would be 
 dark before she reached Kenilworth Place. 
 
 "I shall assert my right to see you there in 
 safety," he responded. 
 
 "Thank you; that will be very nice," she 
 said. 
 
 He had had no rights to assert when, tucked 
 in the yellow sleigh, he brought her home in 
 safety before, but then she had not been his 
 cousin, and she had not thought it necessary to 
 thank him for coming miles to read the broker s 
 letter when he was not the nephew of Miss Caro 
 line De Wint. 
 
 "Of course you will wish to see your aunt," 
 she said. 
 
 Alida spoke constrainedly, for since the climax 
 of Mrs. Van Gaasbeck s disclosure, the afternoon 
 had lost something of its zest, grown tamer, 
 quieter, as though a breeze had fallen. They 
 had so much to talk of in their new relationship, 
 the difficulty was only where to begin. But 
 there need be no hurry to begin, now that 
 their meetings were to depend no more upon 
 chance. Long evenings would be theirs, and 
 rainy afternoons when they might laugh at the 
 odd acquaintance that had turned out so well. 
 Even if Miss De Wint should not like her 
 nephew, she would be glad to find a claimant for
 
 274 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 the Tankard and the Spoon. It was all to end 
 as a story should, though not an exciting story. 
 When one, from watching a sunset, is called in 
 to tea, it is possible to appreciate the tea and 
 still regret the sunset. 
 
 "My aunt!" he said, recalling her words, after 
 an unresponsive moment. "Oh, yes, I shall see 
 her of course, after I have found this Doctor 
 Groesbeck, if he is still living." 
 
 Alida told him of the clergyman s exchange to 
 Wilmington, and he declared that he would travel 
 there without delay. 
 
 As they came out upon the esplanade over 
 looking the park, the winter sun was setting red 
 behind the obelisk. Far to the south rose the 
 blue city under rosy clouds of steam. The drive 
 was gay with carriages, for the snow had gone, 
 and along the paths came knots of chattering 
 people hurrying supperward. Through the 
 gathering shadows the ruddy home-lights had 
 begun to glow, and along the avenue a chain of 
 violet stars stretched out toward the merry 
 night. 
 
 "Is it not beautiful?" Alida cried. "Is it not 
 enough to be a part of it, to be alive, and in New 
 York?" 
 
 "You do not know what it is to be alone here 
 all alone as I was once for just three hours," he 
 said half laughing.
 
 The Burden of Nineveh 275 
 
 "I should not think three hours very long to 
 be alone anywhere," she replied, as they went 
 down the steps. 
 
 "Perhaps not, when you know there is to.be an 
 end of it," he said; "but I did not know how 
 many months and years I was to be an uncon- 
 sidered ghost in all the rush of life. It was 
 enough to drive a man to desperate deeds, and it 
 drove me to call on Miss De Wint. " 
 
 Possibly had Alida given him the opportunity 
 he would have explained why he had found that 
 visit a cure for loneliness, but she did not. 
 
 "You really should know something of your 
 aunt," she said; "and first of all, she will expect 
 you to be proud of being a De Wint." 
 
 "I shall have to become accustomed to the 
 name before attempting to cultivate a pride in 
 it," he answered. 
 
 In the car she gave him further information, 
 scraps of family history, and personal anecdotes 
 of Cousin Caroline s charity and general excel 
 lence, of which no nephew should be ignorant. 
 It should not be her fault if Miss De Wint s new 
 found kinsman were wanting in either admiration 
 or esteem. 
 
 When they left the car and started westward 
 the sidewalks already felt the influence of closing 
 time, but here the homing people went with 
 heavier feet than those about the obelisk. After
 
 176 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 Lenox Hill, below Fourteenth Street looked care 
 worn and down at the heel. 
 
 Twilight had fallen, and the sky above the Jer 
 sey hills was cold and purple; the wind came up 
 keen from the western river, and Kenilworth Place 
 was not a spot to linger in. It was the hour 
 when day throws down her halberd and night 
 comes grumbling to the watch; the time of 
 neither dog nor wolf; the retrocessional of light. 
 
 "Won t you come in and see your aunt?" she 
 asked, with a half-hearted smile. 
 
 "Oh, no, " he said; "I m sure my aunt will 
 keep." 
 
 When they had mounted the steps in silence he 
 pulled the bell handle and they heard the answer 
 ing jingle from the basement. While they stood 
 dully counting seconds there came a sound of 
 shuffling feet in the hall within, and the flash of 
 Mary s apron through the ground-glass door; 
 then the turning of the knob; gas, and a smell 
 of soup. There was the walnut hatrack with 
 Edward Volkert s overcoat upon it, and Mr. Rug- 
 gles s shabby little hat; the checkered marble 
 floor, and the long weary stairs. 
 
 "Good by," she said, and no one could have 
 guessed what a comprehensive good by she 
 meant, least of all De Wint, who did not appear 
 to hear it. 
 
 "Miss Van Wandeleer, " he said, by no means
 
 The Burden of Nineveh 277 
 
 taking Mary into his confidence, "when you 
 think of this afternoon, don t forget the fellow 
 without a name whom you sent for because he 
 was your friend." 
 
 Alida flushed and hung her head. "I don t 
 know what has become of him," she said, with 
 something like a sob. 
 
 "He has not gone very far; he will never be 
 very far away when you want him," he answered, 
 looking not at her but toward the purple sky, 
 where the lights of Hoboken already shone like 
 stars; and as he paused, Alida waited for him to 
 speak again. She had come to where the trail 
 before her was no longer plain. It was like New 
 Year s night once more in the snow, and as then, 
 she presently felt herself caught up and carried 
 past the drift. 
 
 "Would you not like to see Trinity again?" 
 he asked, turning to her confidently; "I mean by 
 daylight, when all the people are about. Won t 
 you come there to-morrow, at any time?" 
 
 "I could not come to-morrow, unless I were to 
 tell several stories," she answered, quietly. 
 
 "Please don t do that," he protested, laughing. 
 "Shall it be Thursday?" 
 
 "Yes, I can come on Thursday morning." 
 
 It had been a century since a Miss Van Wan- 
 deleer had given such an answer, but no one of 
 them all had paid a higher tribute to the family
 
 27 8 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 dignity than did Alida in forgetting it. She had 
 also come home poorer by ten thousand dollars 
 and forgotten that. 
 
 "Good night," said Anthony; "I shall go to 
 Wilmington to-morrow and look up Doctor Groes- 
 beck. " 
 
 "Good night, and come back safe," she said.
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 MR. NOBODY OF NOWHERE 
 
 Mrs. Nick Norris, popularly believed to be 
 undergoing reincarnation on a lower plane in 
 consequence of neglected social duties as a 
 Roman matron, was to give a theater party on 
 Wednesday evening. For, it being a part of her 
 condemnation to have the smallest possible house, 
 and the worst possible servants, her incessant 
 expiations commonly took this form. Judged by 
 present* suffering endured, the Roman matron 
 must have been indeed remiss. An active hoo 
 doo stood behind Mrs. Norris s chair, or rode 
 upon her box, or ran ahead to announce her 
 coming at the inn, and it had grown to be a 
 cheerful custom among her guests to lay small 
 wagers on his antics. 
 
 Mrs. Norris appeared in Kenilworth Place at 
 half past nine in the morning upon a round of 
 calls intended to make sure no epidemic had 
 broken out among her invitees. She had been 
 careful to consult a lady who had seen the play 
 Mr. Nobody of Nowhere and pronounced the 
 plot above reproach. She was also in a position 
 to assure all anxious parents that the friendships 
 279
 
 280 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 of the star were quite platonic. Alida must, if 
 possible, be ready at half past seven, as the auto 
 mobile omnibus would begin its rounds at Kenil- 
 worth Place, and everybody would be sure to 
 keep it waiting. It was to be a perfectly new 
 automobile, never before used, and therefore free 
 from possible infection. Abbreviated dinners 
 were to be compensated for later at the Holland 
 House, where Mr. Norris was to pass the even 
 ing in watching a certain most desirable table. 
 He had determined that this time nothing should 
 go wrong, was Mrs. Norris s last assurance, 
 though to those who knew Nick Norris better 
 than did his wife, the statement might have 
 carried less conviction. 
 
 "My dear, be thankful that you don t keep 
 house," she said to Mrs. Van Wandeleer, at part 
 ing. "Since fall we have had Finns, Swedes, 
 Portuguese, and Poles, and to-morrow we begin 
 with Japs." 
 
 Mrs. Norris did not call at half past seven, 
 having changed her route and called for others 
 of the party first. So when the long, black omni 
 bus backed up, some twenty minutes late, before 
 the Ruggles s door, it was already half filled with 
 girls in opera cloaks, and men with bandaged 
 throats. The hostess, from her seat beside the 
 door, called her excuses for remaining there, 
 which were unnecessary, as all the men were on
 
 Mr. Nobody of Nowhere 281 
 
 the steps to render aid and comfort to the new 
 recruit. Mrs. Norris was sure she had forgotten 
 some one, but fortunately recalled that the for 
 gotten one had sent regrets. 
 
 "Tell him to drive to twenty-nine, West. No, 
 tell him fourteen, East. No, no, we have been 
 there. Tell him to take the list and drive where 
 he pleases." 
 
 The girls sat all together at one end as snugly 
 as their dresses would permit. The men, a body 
 guard about their hostess, sat ever ready to leap 
 out like willing stevedores at every halting place. 
 No chaperon could wish a greater sinecure. 
 
 There were a dozen altogether when Mrs. 
 Norris s list was told; healthy, happy men and 
 girls, a little conscious of being well dressed, and 
 more than a little conscious of the mildly bo- 
 hemian character of the conveyance. They 
 might have mated at random with the blessings 
 of respective families, and they might have made 
 the traverse of the continent without the watch 
 ful eye of Mrs. Norris and come back none the 
 worse. Secretly they thought themselves the 
 product of a civilization that is a little better 
 than any other civilization, the children of a city 
 that is a little better than any other city, and if 
 they were wrong they would never find it out. 
 
 Alida was in her element among them, and 
 accepted the half-serious primacy they accorded
 
 282 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 her half seriously. She knew, as they knew, that 
 without her Mrs. Morris s theater party would be 
 something less of a success, that should the story 
 of the night be told in current print her name 
 would be the first among those present. But 
 youth comes by nature, and to be well favored is 
 the gift of God, and only those who have not 
 these things think twice about them. 
 
 "Does any one know where we are going?" 
 inquired a small girl, whose straight, short nose 
 and mousy eyes looked from the aperture of a 
 very high fur collar, and the nearest man replied: 
 "Where should we go with Miss Van Wandeleer 
 aboard except to the Knickerbocker?" 
 
 "Alida, you re the only pebble on the beach," 
 remarked the mousy girl, complainingly. "No 
 body ever picks out a theater for me." 
 
 "I think the Bijou is closed," replied Alida, 
 and her reputation being well established every 
 body laughed, and the youngest gentleman rang 
 up several fares. 
 
 May Norris tried to tell a story, but observing 
 that her mother listened, forgot the point, which 
 was more amusing than the story could have 
 been, and reminded Johnny Alexander of some 
 thing he had heard at Weber and Fields. 
 
 Once started, everybody talked at once, and 
 at the Twenty-third Street crossing, a reckless 
 cross-town car contributed its measure of diver-
 
 Mr. Nobody of Nowhere 283 
 
 sion. As they passed the Holland House some one 
 feigned to discover Nick Norris guarding the table. 
 
 "Great heaven! he is not alone," cried Johnny 
 Alexander, and Mrs. Norris mentally scratched 
 him from her eligible list. 
 
 The party comfortably filled two lower boxes 
 Mrs. Norris was determined to have no heart 
 burnings in the matter of front seats and when 
 the butler Norris, whom Mr. Alexander playfully 
 pronounced an Esquimaux, had distributed flow 
 ers, with clumsy but impartial hands, there re 
 mained nothing, so far as one particular party 
 was concerned, to delay the rising of the curtain. 
 
 During the overture Nick Norris bustled in to 
 shake hands with every one. He was a neat, dark 
 little gentleman, who fitted his clothes to per 
 fection, and ever looked as though his hair had 
 just been cut. When he had lamented his wife s 
 tyranny in excluding him from the evening s 
 pleasure, and had promised good behavior if 
 allowed to see one act, he went away and did not 
 come back. 
 
 Alida was gratified to discover the Brisbanes 
 in an opposite box, and Bessie, in response to 
 her nod of recognition, held an upturned palm 
 beneath her ear, and wagged it knowingly. Mrs. 
 Brisbane beamed Martini, and B. J., from his 
 corner, inclined the dollar mark. 
 
 A former girl friend of Bessie s from the West
 
 284 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 was also of the party; Miss Brisbane made occa 
 sional experiments with former friends, but it 
 was ever after their departure that Alida found 
 her most affectionate. This left a number of the 
 seats unused, which must have occasioned Mrs. 
 Brisbane secret pangs of conscience. 
 
 Presently the play began. It was a good play, 
 and the English company justified its fame. But 
 to Alida s mind the plot would have been truer 
 to life had the heroine recognized the obvious 
 merits of Mr. Nobody before his social position 
 for awhile in doubt became duly established. 
 She had also little patience with a hero who re 
 frained from speaking plainly, for no reason but to 
 save the author s situation. In the intermissions 
 all the party conversed discreetly, and posed a 
 little. 
 
 Once, while one of the younger men explained 
 why a certain yacht was less desirable than a 
 certain other yacht, Alida allowed herself a fur 
 tive survey of the balcony, and among the tiers 
 of indistinguishable faces two separated them 
 selves, as familiar faces will. They were in the 
 second row and near the center, and presently 
 some little individuality of movement removed 
 all doubt that Edward Volkert was there with 
 Serena Schepmoes. The incident amused Alida, 
 and she found the novelette suggested by it more 
 entertaining than the yacht.
 
 Mr. Nobody of Nowhere 285 
 
 "Miss Van Wandeleer, " began Johnny Alex 
 ander, when the yachtsman had been dispos 
 sessed, "I want to make a bet with you. Forty 
 roses to a cigarette, that you will say yes to my 
 next question!" 
 
 "Done!" said Alida, recklessly. 
 
 "Will you dance the Brisbane cotillion with 
 yours obediently?" 
 
 "Yes," she answered, laughing, "but I thought 
 you did not know them." 
 
 "I don t," said Mr. Alexander; "you will have 
 to engineer my invitation." 
 
 "Then I shall tell Bessie all the circumstances 
 and leave it to her generosity. My saying yes 
 put you completely at her mercy, you know." 
 
 "Oh, the Brisbane charity is celebrated for its 
 breadth," rejoined Johnny Alexander, with patri 
 cian patronage. "Just look at the two deserving 
 subjects they are taking aboard now!" 
 
 Alida, looking, perceived a movement in the 
 Brisbane box, occasioned by the arrival of the 
 subjects. 
 
 "Do you know who they are?" she asked of 
 Johnny Alexander. 
 
 "One, I should guess by his smile, to be a 
 floor-walker," he said, judicially; "and the other, 
 perhaps, something in the sock department. 
 Please don t think me snobby. I quite look up 
 to retail dry goods, I assure you."
 
 286 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 "That is very nice of you, indeed," returned 
 Alida, with a smile of recognition for some one 
 in the charitable box. "I m sure no one would 
 appreciate it more than Lord Wensdale. " 
 
 "Lord Wensdale!" repeated Johnny Alex 
 ander, unabashed. "The bounding Briton, who 
 has just acquired the Cattle Trust! I wonder 
 how much of the forty million B. J. captured!" 
 Then, forgetting dry goods, he inquired, plead 
 ingly: "Miss Van Wandeleer, do you think you 
 could be happy with the love of an honest man, 
 and forty millions?" 
 
 Alida did not answer this, for the well-known 
 state of Mr. Alexander s finances left ample time 
 for a decision. 
 
 Meanwhile Mrs. Norris, after amicable signals, 
 was preparing to run up the Union Jack. 
 
 "If I thought they would come, I d ask them 
 to supper in a minute," she told Alida, confi 
 dentially. "One feels so sorry for strangers, 
 and they are not with the Brisbanes. I saw them 
 leave their own seats in the orchestra. Nick met 
 them yesterday at the club, and as we happened 
 to be giving a little dinner at Sherry s he invited 
 them at once. We should like to be treated in 
 just that way if we were in a foreign country." 
 
 "Yes, shouldn t we?" assented Johnny Alex 
 ander, with feeling, as the curtain rose upon the 
 third act.
 
 Mr. Nobody of Nowhere 287 
 
 This was the well-known act wherein the hero 
 ine ascends a cherry tree, and a stupid servant 
 takes away the ladder. She was charming, sit 
 ting on the bough and throwing fruit into her 
 lover s mouth, and the final leap into his arms 
 upon the apparition of stern paternity was cleverly 
 accomplished. 
 
 "And as for you, sir, my stable boys shall 
 thrash you!" spoke paternity, and it was then 
 that Alida thought Mr. Nobody should have 
 declared himself at the risk of ending the per 
 formance. 
 
 During the next entre acte Old Wenny, accom 
 panied by Mr. Howlet, made a visit of ceremony. 
 They recalled the Sherry dinner pleasantly, and 
 would have been most happy to have supped with 
 Mrs. Norris had not an engagement " 
 
 "Those new people are so pushing!" sighed 
 the matron inwardly, but outwardly she smiled 
 and murmured: "Some other night this week, I 
 hope." 
 
 Only Lord Wensdale could reach Alida s side 
 conveniently Mr. Alexander had slipped out for 
 a cigarette and in the short conversation be 
 tween them he told of his safe return, the happy 
 arrival of the caribou s head uninjured, and two 
 clever sayings of Miss Brisbane. Indicating 
 three vacant seats, he said: "We are expecting 
 to have with us a chap whose train has been
 
 288 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 delayed somewhere between here and Wilming 
 ton. " 
 
 "Wilmington?" Alida repeated. "There has 
 not been an accident, I hope." 
 
 "Oh, no, he ll turn up later for a bit of supper 
 with us. Perhaps you have met him at the Bris- 
 banes, by the way. His name is Bogardus." 
 
 "If you mean Anthony Bogardus, he is my 
 cousin," replied Alida, blushing prettily. 
 
 "I see," said Wensdale, which might mean 
 much or little. 
 
 "And do you know him well?" she asked. 
 
 "We met in connection with this cattle deal," 
 explained the earl; "but I have rarely liked a 
 man so well on short acquaintance. I am 
 charmed to hear you are related, really charmed. 
 The family should be proud of him. At his age 
 such ability is quite unheard of. You have a 
 wonderful country, Miss Van Wandeleer, a land 
 of miracles." 
 
 She wondered why Lord Wensdale should have 
 introduced national resources with such abrupt 
 ness, but supposed he had found himself going 
 further than he intended in the praises of her 
 kinsman. 
 
 "I am glad you are pleased with the country," 
 she remarked. 
 
 "We like your country very much," he went 
 on, smiling; "but I confess we like its products
 
 Mr. Nobody ^Nowhere 289 
 
 better. The chief product, Miss Van Wande- 
 leer, is dividends, you know, and we old fogies 
 on the other side are rather fond of dividends; 
 we all bow down to the almighty dollar." 
 
 "And that is why you call your gold pieces 
 sovereigns, I suppose," she rejoined, which being 
 a plain, unvarnished jest, pleased Wensdale 
 greatly. 
 
 "Alida has so much social talent," whispered 
 Mrs. Norris to May, when the visitor had bowed 
 himself out. "The charm of perfect breeding, I 
 should call it." 
 
 "It isn t," said her daughter, sullenly; "it is 
 only thinking of things to say in time." 
 
 The Brisbanes were waiting for their carriage 
 near the Thirty-eighth Street door, across the 
 lobby from where Mrs. Norris herded her flocks 
 while her scouts deployed without. Bessie held 
 up a fan in token of good faith, but the presence 
 of the former friend deterred her from further 
 demonstration, and Mrs. Brisbane had developed 
 symptoms of oppression. 
 
 B. J. at first was nowhere to be seen, but pres 
 ently he appeared, and catching sight of Alida, 
 made his way toward her. He wore the fur-lined 
 overcoat, dear as the dollar mark to the hearts of 
 cartoonists, and Mrs. Norris, observing him to 
 be the target of all eyes, experienced a new satis 
 faction in the presence of Miss Van Wandeleer.
 
 290 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 "I ve got a bottle on the ice for somebody," 
 Brisbane said, in metaphor, as he took Alida s 
 hand. He spoke low, as was his habit when in 
 public, and with the air of saying something of 
 importance another habit. 
 
 "For me?" inquired Alida, guiltily. 
 
 "Rather!" he answered, laughing; "but it 
 will keep. How did you like the show?" 
 
 Alida expressed approval of the show, and 
 asked if Bessie had enjoyed it. 
 
 "Oh, thoroughly," said Bessie s father, "in 
 spite of not being able to rewrite the play and 
 take the leading role herself." 
 
 They made a striking vignette of Manhattan, 
 the tall man of the hour in his marvellous fur 
 coat, and the pretty Miss Van Wandeleer in her 
 fluffy wraps and slightly lifted skirt; a picture 
 many stopped to look at, and which lost nothing 
 in effect when Mr. Love, in bear-skin collar, 
 pushed through the crowd leading a district tele 
 graph boy, somewhat dazed by his environment. 
 
 "I am going to open this dispatch, my dear 
 Princess," announced B. J., carelessly, "and in 
 order to mystify the populace, I shall show it to 
 you. Please appear amused whatever it may be. 
 The play s the thing!" 
 
 As he spoke he tore open the envelope, barely 
 glanced at the yellow paper within, and handed 
 it to Alida, who, laughing obediently, read:
 
 Mr. Nobody of Nowhere 291 
 
 " Brig Mary Ann unloading at Commercial 
 wharf. 
 
 "You did not know that I had shipping inter 
 ests," he said. 
 
 "No," answered Alida, outwardly keeping up 
 the comedy; "but I do understand something of 
 this. Bessie and I came in, you know, while you 
 were dictating a letter on New Year s Day." 
 
 "True," assented Mr. Brisbane; "I rely on 
 your discretion," and still smiling he went to 
 join his party. 
 
 ."I have never seen the great B. J. so close at 
 hand before," said Mrs. Norris, as they left the 
 theater. "What an interesting face he has." 
 The Norrises had been of those who held aloof 
 from the Park Avenue family when first their star 
 shone in the ascendant, but, remembering the 
 Roman matron, she was ever ready to admit mis 
 takes, and make amendment when occasion 
 served. "Is it true they are about to send out 
 cards for a cotillion?" 
 
 Mrs. Norris, who had set her heart upon a 
 large, round table in comparative seclusion, was 
 not pleased to discover that her husband had 
 effected an exchange for another in the middle 
 of the restaurant. 
 
 "Nick, that was exactly what I might have 
 expected," was all she said, but the words were 
 in intent profane.
 
 292 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 "That s the worst of having married people in 
 a party," whispered Johnny Alexander to Alida. 
 "They are sure to fight. Miss Van Wandeleer, 
 let s call our engagement off." 
 
 "For the cotillion?" 
 
 "No, for life. Oh, I had forgotten I did not 
 propose; I meant to do so in the last intermis 
 sion. I wonder if it could have been to some 
 other girl." 
 
 At supper it appeared that Mr. Norris, aided 
 by the Hoodoo, had at the late hour added to the 
 bill of fare some certain dishes which took long 
 in preparation. It was for the hostess another 
 expiation, though no one else found reason to 
 complain if, when they rose at last, most of the 
 other tables were deserted. But it was not until 
 they were all in the lobby once more, differen 
 tiating wraps, and preparing for the homeward 
 journey, that the real potentiality of the Norris 
 Hoodoo became apparent. 
 
 "Lord, Nancy!" gasped Mr. Norris, entering 
 from the avenue, pale and tremulous, "the auto s 
 busted!" 
 
 "Oh, Nick!" cried Mrs. Norris, softened by 
 the presence of actual calamity, "can t it go?" 
 
 "No," said her husband, with finality, "it s 
 anchored out there like an owl lunch wagon." 
 
 "Hansoms!" suggested Johnny Alexander, 
 drawing nearer to Alida.
 
 Mr. Nobody of Nowhere 293 
 
 "Impossible!" 
 
 "Telephone!" suggested some one else. 
 
 "Too late!" 
 
 "Charter a Fifth Avenue stage!" 
 
 "Stopped running!" 
 
 As Miss Van Wandeleer, who had no sugges 
 tions to offer, stood a little apart from the group, 
 now agitated with a pleasurable excitement, she 
 heard a voice beside her. 
 
 "Alida!" 
 
 "Anthony!" she cried, forgetting to prefix 
 cousin in her surprise. 
 
 He had just come into the hotel, and perhaps 
 knew more of th*e stranded vehicle than she. At 
 all events it did not appear necessary to explain. 
 Knowing of the calamity, the bevy of half-fright 
 ened girls explained itself. 
 
 "So you are one of them," he said, with less 
 concern than civility demanded, and turning to 
 a bell-boy, he added, "Go out and tell my man 
 to wait." 
 
 He wore his gray coat, just as she had seen 
 him on the evening of their first meeting when 
 he had come in from the sleet to Mrs. Ruggles s 
 parlor, and when, oddly, she had seemed to 
 know him better than in the short afternoon of 
 their relationship. 
 
 "You have a gift for sudden appearances," she 
 said.
 
 294 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 "And you a gift for getting into trouble," he 
 replied. 
 
 "It s not my fault," she protested; "it s the 
 Norris Hoodoo." 
 
 "We have decided on hansoms after all," said 
 Mrs. Norris, coming up. "Nick is outside now 
 collecting seven." 
 
 It simplified the situation somewhat that Miss 
 Van Wandeleer should so opportunely externalize 
 at once a cousin and a cab, and Mrs. Norris 
 breathed to May, "Alida s tact is really wonder 
 ful!" 
 
 A minute later the tactful one was rolling 
 rapidly southward in the corner of a brougham, 
 a spacious brougham whose satin lining she could 
 feel, and whose superficial luxuries every passing 
 light revealed; a clock, a hand glass, a silver 
 rack of many small conveniences. 
 
 "I am afraid we have taken some one s car 
 riage by mistake," she said. "This is like 
 Bessie s, only better. I never saw such a lot of 
 modern improvements." 
 
 "Oh, that is not all," he answered, laughing. 
 "It has steam heat and electric lights," and with 
 a button he created an illumination just long 
 enough to establish its possibility. 
 
 Already old Delmonico s was on their right, 
 and to the left Farragut in bronze, with Madison 
 Square dark and shadowy beyond. Some day
 
 Mr. Nobody of Nowhere 295 
 
 she would tell him of St. Martin, some day when 
 they had more time. 
 
 "I want to hear of your trip to Wilmington," 
 she said. "Did you find Dr. Groesbeck?" 
 
 "Oh, yes," he answered, leaning back; "I saw 
 him, good old man, and he told me everything 
 there was to tell. He married my father and 
 mother, and my aunt, who had set her heart upon 
 my father marrying another girl she liked better, 
 appears to have made herself a meddlesome old 
 nuisance all around. It was a desolate half- 
 elopement that nobody cared much about, and 
 the family quarrel might or might not have been 
 patched up later. I will tell you all about it 
 some other time, but somehow I cannot yet con 
 nect the story with myself. I cannot even feel 
 any great concern in it. Do you think it strange 
 and unnatural in me to feel no more sympa 
 thy for my poor parents, who died twenty-five 
 years ago, than if I had only read of them in a 
 book?" 
 
 "No," said Alida, "but I am sure most people 
 would pretend to have more sentiment." 
 
 "Oh, I am going to try," he went on; "I shall 
 find out all the places where they walked, and all 
 the things existing now that they once saw, and 
 I shall read the old tales and the old poetry they 
 read till I know something of how they talked 
 and thought. And I shall find old pictures to
 
 296 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 show how they dressed. Then perhaps I can 
 bring them back, and it will be different." 
 
 Broadway flashed suddenly across their path; 
 Broadway, the irresponsible defier of order, cleav 
 ing the granite city where it will Broadway, 
 Mother of Lights. 
 
 "I am sure it will be different," said Alida, 
 softly, "and may I help?" 
 
 "Yes, you can lend a hand," he said. 
 
 They entered now a zone of quiet, where great, 
 deserted buildings slept, and only the street 
 lamps shone in, first from the right and then from 
 the left. 
 
 "You have not forgotten to-morrow?" he 
 said. 
 
 She shook her head for answer, leaning for 
 ward with her face turned to the carriage win 
 dow. In five minutes more she would be at 
 home. 
 
 "Were you surprised to see me at the Holland 
 House?" she asked, when a dozen alternating 
 lights had passed. 
 
 "No," he replied, "you might have come to 
 meet me." 
 
 "How absurd!" she said, still looking from 
 the window. 
 
 There were cabs in front of the French restau 
 rant, and within the music was still playing 
 playing a Hungarian waltz.
 
 Mr. Nobody of Nowhere 297 
 
 Alida wiped the moisture of her breath from 
 the glass with her handkerchief. 
 
 "I heard some one say something very nice 
 about you this evening at the theater," she 
 said; "but I am not at all sure that you de 
 serve it." 
 
 She heard him laugh a little in his corner before 
 he responded, "Please tell me who it was." 
 
 "Lord Wensdale." 
 
 "Oh, Wenny, old chap!" he answered, quoting 
 Howlet. "Yes, he has invited me to visit him 
 in Devonshire next fall." 
 
 "Shall you go?" 
 
 "I ll tell you that to-morrow." 
 
 "Thank you, Cousin Anthony." 
 
 Fourteenth Street just ahead with a shabby 
 little horse car trotting eastward empty and aim 
 less. 
 
 "I m not your Cousin Anthony!" 
 
 "Oh, are you not? Who are you then?" 
 
 "I will tell you to-morrow." 
 
 Cheap carpets in a lighted window, forty-nine 
 cents the yard for blue or brown or striped. 
 
 "You are keeping everything for to-morrow," 
 said Alida, "while I have changed my mind about 
 going to Trinity at all." 
 
 Again in his corner Anthony laughed. "To 
 night don t count for anything," he said, mys 
 teriously; "it s just a sort of extra dividend."
 
 298 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 "I don t know anything about dividends," she 
 asserted, "except that Englishmen like them." 
 
 "For which may heaven be blessed," said 
 Anthony. 
 
 It was a different home-coming from that of 
 the yellow sleigh. Almost as different as though 
 the story had been reversed to permit the pump 
 kin to become a coach and six. The footman 
 who opened the carriage door was even slimmer 
 and neater than Mr. Love, the back upon the 
 box straighter than that of Moneypenny. There 
 was a light in the hall where Mary stood expect 
 ing her, and the stair carpet shone cheerfully red. 
 
 "Stop just a minute, please," said Anthony, 
 "and tell me what you think of the carriage." 
 
 "It is beautiful," she said. 
 
 "As fine as Bessie Brisbane s?" 
 
 "Yes, ever so much nicer. Whose is it?" 
 
 "If you are very good, and don t keep people 
 waiting," he replied, "I will tell you all about it, 
 perhaps to-morrow. " 
 
 She turned and left him, running up the steps 
 without so much as a good night. What was 
 this wonderful to-morrow to be, when so much 
 would be made clear?
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 THE GENEROSITY OF ANTHONY 
 
 "Cousin Caroline, may I come in?" inquired 
 Alida through the door of Miss De Wint s apart 
 ment, and from within the echo cried, "Come 
 in. " 
 
 The hour being half past seven in the morning, 
 Alida was not unprepared to find the room in 
 something less than its accustomed order. 
 Cousin Caroline s cabinet, obligingly upon all 
 fours as it were, became at night a bed, and in 
 this bed was now Miss Caroline herself, so much 
 of her as was visible above a smooth and spot 
 less counterpane, clad in a red flannel sack of 
 many scallops, within her hands a copy of Thomas 
 a Kempis in large type. Only a pair of worsted 
 slippers at the bedside suggested that Cousin 
 Caroline ever intended to get up. 
 
 "Good gracious me! what time is it?" she 
 demanded, viewing the finished aspect of her 
 godchild s toilet with alarm. 
 
 "Oh, not nearly eight yet," replied the other, 
 reassuringly. 
 
 "Then what is the matter?" Miss Van Wan- 
 deleer was not always dressed at eight. 
 299
 
 300 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 "Oh, nothing; I only woke rather early, and 
 thought you might like to have a call from me." 
 
 "Of course, my dear," affectionately; "sit 
 down." 
 
 As Alida encamped in the vicinity of a mini 
 ature Mont Blanc, composed in part of Cousin 
 Caroline s extremities, she said, "I want to ask 
 some questions, and I don t want to be snubbed. " 
 
 "Snubbed?" repeated Miss De Wint, as though 
 the word were unfamiliar. 
 
 "Well, put off," went on Alida, coming at 
 once to her purpose, for her sponsor could not be 
 counted upon to remain long in her present 
 position. "You see I cannot help hearing people 
 speak occasionally of things that happened in our 
 family that I have never been told about." 
 
 "What sort of things?" 
 
 "Well, for instance, I never knew till a little 
 while ago that you ever had a brother who would 
 have been my Cousin Anthony." 
 
 As Alida spoke of Cousin Anthony it seemed 
 that she had been cheated of a hallowed memory, 
 and Miss De Wint, who had been keeping her 
 place in a Kempis with her forefinger, closed the 
 volume and laid it upon the coverlet; perhaps 
 the softening influence of her reading was appar 
 ent in her answer. 
 
 "I did not suppose there was anything that 
 you had not picked up in one way or another by
 
 The Generosity 0/~ Anthony 301 
 
 this time, Alida," she replied. "There is no 
 secret about my brother Anthony. I do not like 
 to speak of him, that is all. There was an es 
 trangement and he died years ago, far away and 
 among strangers." 
 
 "Was not his wife with him?" 
 
 "Yes, she was there." 
 
 "But you did not like her?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 Mont Blanc showed symptoms of collapse. 
 
 "My dear," said Miss De Wint, "it is a long 
 story. She was no match for him, and if she had 
 been, he was scarcely twenty-one. Of course I 
 was not pleased with the marriage." 
 
 "I don t call that a long story," ventured the 
 questioner, boldly, "and you could not have been 
 estranged from him just because he married a 
 girl he cared for." 
 
 Miss Caroline raised herself a little on the 
 pillows. 
 
 "I was not estranged from him," she said; "he 
 was estranged from me. I shall tell you how it 
 happened, now, Alida, and then we need never 
 speak of it again." 
 
 Alida nodded her agreement to the bargain. 
 
 "You must understand," went on her god 
 mother, "when father died he left everything 
 there was not much to me, being a woman and
 
 302 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 the eldest, expecting me of course to divide with 
 Anthony as long as he might need it. But I 
 always considered the half to be his by right, and 
 there never would have been a question between 
 us if he had not insisted upon getting married." 
 
 "And you did not think the half his by right 
 after that?" Alida asked. 
 
 "Don t jump at conclusions!" admonished 
 Miss De Wint, severely ; "I was not going to help 
 him to make a fool of himself, so I simply put 
 the money aside for him till he got back his 
 senses. He had something of his own, for when 
 he graduated from the School of Mines, they 
 kept him in the laboratory and he would have 
 been a professor at Columbia now; but he just 
 dropped everything and ruined his career to run 
 off to a frightful place in the West, where her 
 father actually kept cows cows, my dear! 
 There Anthony died and she died, and I suppose 
 their child has been brought up a milkman!" 
 
 "Oh, there was a child?" 
 
 "Of course there was a child," said Miss De 
 Wint. "Did you ever hear of an unsuitable 
 marriage where there was not a child?" 
 
 "And do you know nothing of your nephew?" 
 asked Alida. 
 
 "My nephew!" snorted Cousin Caroline. "If 
 he ever wants anything of me, he will find me 
 out, and if he never does he won t thank me for
 
 The Generosity of Anthony 303 
 
 finding him out. But if he should turn up, I am 
 prepared for him." 
 
 "Prepared for him?" 
 
 "Yes, my dear. I have never considered more 
 than half the money mine, so every quarter when 
 I get my check from the Guardian and Trustee, 
 I put Anthony s share aside." 
 
 "And have you been doing so all these years?" 
 
 "Yes, I have never failed." 
 
 "Oh, Cousin Caroline!" cried Alida, deeply 
 touched. "And you have never used a bit 
 of it?" 
 
 "Pshaw, my dear!" retorted Miss De Wint; 
 "don t take me for a fool, Alida. My brother was 
 a gentleman, not a miser, and I have managed 
 his income as he would have done himself." 
 
 "Oh!" said Alida, mystified, and Miss De 
 Wint went on, "Yes, I have acted as I believe he 
 would have wished. Of course, after his death, 
 there being no living expenses to provide for, 
 Anthony was able to afford many little expendi 
 tures that I could never dream of." 
 
 "Yes, I suppose so," assented Alida, more 
 because her godmother looked sharply toward 
 her than because she really understood, and Miss 
 De Wint explained, "There were charities, you 
 see, in which I knew he would have been inter 
 ested, and Christmas presents to people he would 
 have liked, and things of that sort. He was a
 
 304 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 generous, open-handed boy, and knowing his 
 tastes so well, I could tell exactly what his 
 wishes would have been." 
 
 "Do you mean that you made the presents for 
 him?" Alida inquired, with more wonder than 
 she thought best to show. 
 
 "Yes, my dear, and I am glad that you have 
 brought the subject up. You will now under 
 stand that I am not so recklessly extravagant as 
 you have accused me of being at times." 
 
 "But I only said that once, Cousin Caroline, 
 about my watch," Alida protested. "It was so 
 much too handsome." 
 
 "I hesitated a long time over the watch," 
 admitted Miss De Wint, "but I could fancy 
 Anthony saying, Pshaw, Caroline, go to Tiffa 
 ny s and get the child a good one, and he could 
 well afford it. Stay where you are, Alida, I 
 don t want any false sentiment. If I have given 
 you little things from time to time on your Cousin 
 Anthony s behalf, I have never allowed myself 
 to want for what my brother could give me it 
 would have been unfair to him. And when 
 Anthony s son turns up, as he will some day, 
 without a penny in his pockets, there will always 
 be enough to keep him from the poorhouse with 
 out expense to me." 
 
 "That is very fortunate," agreed Alida, with 
 out false sentiment. "But suppose he should
 
 The Generosity of Anthony 305 
 
 come here not wanting anything at all, but to be 
 friendly, and join the family?" 
 
 "I should receive him well, I hope, and let him 
 see, as kindly as I could, that it would be much 
 better for every one if he went back to his dairy. " 
 
 Miss De Wint, stretching out her arm, laid 
 Thomas a Kempis on a nearby table, while her 
 eyes were allowed to rest suggestively upon the 
 worsted slippers at the bedside. 
 
 "I know you want to get up," Alida said, 
 "but you must first let me ask one more ques 
 tion: what would you do if your nephew should 
 prove tall and handsome and well educated and 
 not poor, and brave and generous and noble?" 
 
 "Pshaw!" sniffed Cousin Caroline, regarding 
 the slippers with increasing interest, "in that 
 case, I should marry him to you." 
 
 "Then I should get the Tankard and the 
 Spoon!" 
 
 "Yes; now run along to breakfast." 
 
 They were a close-mouthed lot, the De Wints, 
 as Dutch as Edam cheese, and when Peterus the 
 Miller had cast his vote for what should be the 
 emblem of his city, it had not been for the lion 
 who can fight, nor for the eagle who can fly, but 
 for the beaver who builds his house impregnable 
 and keeps its one door hidden. 
 
 In the lower hall Edward Volkert, who break 
 fasted early and alone, was putting on his over-
 
 306 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 coat with unnecessary contortions while Bell 
 stood watching the operation. 
 
 "I contemplate getting a new coat to-day," he 
 was saying. "How do you think a long fur one 
 would suit me? They only cost five hundred." 
 
 "You would certainly be taken for an actor," 
 put in Alida, and Volkert, with a final wrench, 
 replied: "Yes, or a Brisbane the difference is 
 in the price of admission. Glory! there goes a 
 button! B. J. and I are going to close out the 
 Transcontinental deal to-day, and this evening 
 there will be fireworks on the lawn." 
 
 "You might better be thinking of your own 
 business," said Alida. 
 
 "I am," protested Volkert, buttoning his coat. 
 Be brief, this is my busy day ! And the party of 
 the first part, for and in consideration of the 
 payment and emoluments hereinafter specified, 
 hereby covenants and agrees " and so reciting 
 Volkert departed, closing the door behind him. 
 
 "I am afraid he is getting more impractical 
 every day," lamented Bell. 
 
 "He is certainly getting more tiresome," said 
 Alida. "What are you going to do this morn 
 ing, Bell? Look at flats?" 
 
 Bell laughed and shook her head. 
 
 "No; no more flats," she said, mysteriously. 
 
 "Why not?" demanded the other, with a note 
 of disappointment, for flat hunting is a pastime
 
 The Generosity of Anthony 307 
 
 like another when one has an hour or two to 
 spare. 
 
 "Don t ask me," pleaded Bell, adding, with 
 nervous haste, "Alida, I almost believe the tide 
 has turned. But please do not let me say another 
 word, and Bella Junior rapped with her knuckles 
 on the wooden newel post as a charm to avert 
 the evil consequences of over-confidence. 
 
 In the dining-room little Mr. Ruggles, reading 
 the morning paper, chuckled to himself. 
 
 "What is it, father?" Bell inquired, and her 
 father, who was not one to keep his chuckles to 
 himself, explained: "Sly old fox, is Uncle 
 Horace; regular old sphinx I call him! Just 
 hear this, Uncle Horace s Little Joke. In 
 reply to a direct question concerning his reiter 
 ated assertion that the Big B. had not been sold, 
 the Sage of Cedar Street replied, My words were 
 that the road could not be bought. See the 
 point, my dears? The road had been sold 
 already! A quibble, I call it; just a quibble." 
 
 "How very sly !" said Bell, appreciatively, and 
 Alida felt quite safe in agreeing that Uncle 
 Horace had been sly. 
 
 "Mark my words," went on Mr. Ruggles, 
 "that meeting this afternoon will be of vast im 
 portance. All Brisbane has to do now is to sign 
 the biggest check that ever passed the clearing 
 house."
 
 308 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 "Why, father, do you really think so?" in 
 quired Bell, in a tone implying that B. J. should 
 be notified at once of this simple solution of the 
 case. 
 
 "Think so?" returned Mr. Ruggles, uncover 
 ing a dish; "why, bless my soul, I have seen it 
 all along; besides, it s right here in the paper."
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 A T THE TOMB OF A BISHOP 
 
 She found him in the nave with his back to the 
 closed bronze doors, looking toward the chancel 
 where the white altar stood in shadow beneath 
 the great west window. He saw her immediately 
 as she came in by the southern porch, and with 
 out moving beckoned her to come to him. As 
 she stood beside him in silence for a moment, she 
 knew this to be his way of reminding her of New 
 Year s Eve, when they had met in the snow. 
 
 "It was better with the candles, wasn t it?" he 
 said at length, and Alida answered: "Yes, it was 
 better then." 
 
 "I wish they would light them again," con 
 tinued Anthony, reflectively; "I wonder if they 
 would if we were to make it an object to them." 
 
 "What an absurd idea!" rejoined Alida. "Of 
 course they would not." But he did not appear 
 to be convinced. 
 
 "I believe they would," he insisted, obsti 
 nately. "Some day let us see if they will not 
 light every candle there just for you and me." 
 
 He had taken her fingers in his her hand 
 chanced to hang very near, but Alida drew them 
 309
 
 jio The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 hurriedly away and moved a few steps from him. 
 Her breath grew short, and for the moment she 
 could not have spoken had she tried. There was 
 no doubt of his meaning there had never been 
 a doubt only now she could no longer cheat 
 herself into the belief that there was a doubt. 
 But as she took the nearest seat of a long pew it 
 was with a feeling of flat finality, as though 
 something that should have gone on forever had 
 come abruptly to an end. 
 
 She had always known that somewhere in the 
 path would be a gate she should open with her 
 own hand and pass through willingly. But now, 
 when a sudden turn had brought her to it, the 
 old way, the primrose way, seemed sunnier look 
 ing back than she had sometimes thought it, and 
 the country on ahead seemed tamer, and the dis 
 tance gray. There Certainty, with her little 
 bunch of keys, stood waiting to let her in, and 
 Chance, the merry, motley fool, to say good by. 
 Soon he would be capering for some one else, but 
 there were tears in his eyes, for he and Miss Van 
 Wandeleer had been good friends. Faintly over 
 head the bells of Trinity tolled off another quar 
 ter hour, the last, the very last. It was like 
 being born again, it was like dying and waking 
 up in heaven to find the dear old earth rags gone. 
 
 Alida was grateful to him that he did not speak 
 to her, but she was glad, when he took the seat
 
 At the Tomb of a Bishop 311 
 
 behind, to feel that he was near, for she was sure 
 he understood her now as he had always under 
 stood. Presently she, too, understood. Pres 
 ently, in the silence that was as a sacrament 
 between them, she saw that, knowing she would 
 stay, he had left her free to go. She felt that he 
 was speaking to her with his heart, drawing her 
 to him with his will, kissing her with his eyes, 
 and yet should she choose to leave him he would 
 not put out a hand to hold her back. From the 
 first he had taken everything for granted, her 
 good will, her friendship, her loyalty; now, 
 though she had surrendered nothing, there was 
 nothing left to give. Nobody else she had ever 
 known would have chosen an empty church for a 
 moment such as this would be to both of them 
 forever. Nobody else would have allowed her at 
 such a time to sit and think with her hands in 
 her muff. Still, as she sat, there came a gradual 
 realization that he held her above the women 
 whose surrender is half music and moonlight, 
 whose new born love is cradled with the sickly 
 twin, regret. 
 
 That he believed her capable of understanding 
 this brought to Alida a revelation of herself. 
 Dimly at first she saw herself as some one who 
 had never existed before. And he, too, would 
 be thenceforward some one else. They would be 
 new people on the earth, like those two in the
 
 312 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 garden for whom all things were created. It 
 was for both an end and a beginning, the eternal 
 miracle of the old perpetual beginning. Some 
 day there would be lighted candles and music 
 and flowers, and every one would know, and a 
 date would be written in the register, but it 
 would not be the right date. 
 
 When Alida rose composedly and turned to 
 face him, his elbows were on the back of the 
 pew, and he was looking up at her with the old 
 look of good companionship which she had never 
 shrunk from meeting. 
 
 "You promised to show me the church," was 
 all he said. 
 
 "You don t deserve it," she replied, and 
 prompted by something in her voice that had not 
 been there before, he reached over and took her 
 hand and raised the small, gray fingers to his lips. 
 
 "I know that very well," he said, "but fortu 
 nately it is the undeserving who get everything. " 
 
 "Then come," rejoined Alida, laughing, as 
 she stepped into the aisle, "I shall not let you 
 miss a tombstone." 
 
 A passing verger, hearing the laugh, looked at 
 them reproachfully. He had before encountered 
 purblind sightseers in Trinity, but as he paused 
 to adjust a cushion his manner was in itself a 
 hint. 
 
 "It never seems wicked to talk in a big church, "
 
 At the Tomb of a Bishop 313 
 
 Alida whispered. "After all a church is just 
 God s dressing-room, and I look forward to a 
 lovely time in heaven." 
 
 "And so do I," said Anthony, "but not just 
 yet." 
 
 There is not much to be seen in Trinity, less 
 perhaps than in any edifice on earth of like celeb 
 rity, but the dim aisles of the old, brown, over 
 shadowed church are pleasant places when one 
 is in the mood for loitering. 
 
 "We have an ancestor or two in the church 
 yard," Alida began, half apologetic in her role 
 of showman; "but I don t know exactly where 
 they are, and I am not quite certain about their 
 names. " 
 
 "I am glad of that," said Anthony, "for now 
 I can picture them each as being for forty years 
 a warden of this parish, whereas they, might turn 
 out just common vestrymen." 
 
 "I don t care much about this Trinity lot," 
 Alida responded, loftily, "they were collaterals 
 anyway, and only seventeen hundred and some 
 thing. You will hear about the best ones from 
 Cousin Caroline, the one who brought the news of 
 the burning of Schenectady across the snow, and 
 the other who disapproved of giving up New 
 Amsterdam to the British, and entrenched him 
 self in Harlem with a handful of followers. " 
 
 "Did he make a good fight?"
 
 314 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 "No, but that was because they either did not 
 know he was entrenched or did not care. They 
 never pursued him. He is buried in St. Mark s. 
 Some day I ll take you there." 
 
 They were moving slowly through the southern 
 aisle, where the strong light fell upon her face 
 lifted to his, saying "I ll take you there," as 
 though there were no question now of all days 
 being theirs. 
 
 "Alida," he said, stopping her, "do you re 
 member when I heard you say that first, some 
 day together, hand in hand ?" 
 
 "Yes," she said, softly, looking down; "but 
 it was not meant for you then." 
 
 "I thought it was," he answered. "I knew it 
 was." 
 
 "But you had only seen the back of my head. " 
 
 "And you had not seen me at all, and yet you 
 were singing to me all the while, were you not?" 
 
 "Perhaps," she answered; "I don t know." 
 
 "Tell me some more about ancestors," he said, 
 laughing, as they moved on again, and he was 
 not the first who had taken pleasure in Alida s 
 narratives, irrespective of their purport. 
 
 "I don t know any more about the De Wints, " 
 she said, "and the Van Wandeleers would not 
 interest you." 
 
 "And when have I shown a lack of interest in 
 Van Wandeleers?" he asked, reproachfully.
 
 At the Tomb of a Bishop 315 
 
 "Then I shall tell you of my favorite who was 
 a Justice of the Peace. He does not appear to 
 have had a first name, and Cousin Caroline hates 
 him because he was here in 1647, three years 
 before there was a De Wint in the colony. When 
 two people sued each other he always appointed 
 some one to reconcile them, and if they refused 
 to be reconciled he fined them each so many 
 beavers that he grew enormously rich for those 
 simple days, and bought acres and acres of land 
 on Broadway." 
 
 Which he sold again for other beavers, added 
 Anthony. "He must have been a man of great 
 intelligence as well as a practical politician." 
 
 "You need not try to disparage him," said 
 Alida, "for I revere him highly. He married 
 his own widow." 
 
 "That was rather clever, I admit. How did 
 he manage it?" 
 
 "Oh, just by being captured by the Indians 
 and allowing himself to be thought dead till his 
 wife married again, and the second husband fell 
 into a well. Then he came back and they had 
 another wedding all within a year." 
 
 "I don t wonder you are proud of such an 
 enterprising forefather." 
 
 "Of course," she admitted, "it would not be 
 much if it happened now, but being in 1649 
 makes us quite historical."
 
 316 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 "Somehow," said Anthony, reflectively, "I 
 can t feel great enthusiasm for that widow." 
 
 "Nor I," confessed Alida, laughing. "But 
 then we don t know all the circumstances." 
 
 "Yes, the beavers may have been a complica 
 tion. I wonder what became of them." 
 
 "Oh, I suppose the moths got into them, or 
 he invested them badly. As a family, we have 
 none of us been able to keep our beavers when 
 we had them; it did not seem to make so much 
 difference, being poor, when mother was a girl, 
 but now you know it makes a great difference." 
 
 "I don t believe it would to you," he said, and 
 she answered, quickly, "Oh, I was not thinking 
 of myself, I am used to being poor, I like it." 
 But as the avowal afforded him open amusement, 
 she went on, "I suppose I should not call it pov 
 erty, for I have always had everything I could 
 possibly want, even since the Guardian and Trus 
 tee has cut our income down nearly one half. 
 Did you ever hear of the Guardian and Trustee?" 
 
 "Oh, yes, as a leading financial institution, I 
 know it very well." 
 
 "You can t unless they take care of your prop 
 erty and give you two per cent," she answered, 
 sadly. "I should never have had anything pretty 
 if it had not been for " she hesitated a moment, 
 and as an interesting coincidence occurred to 
 her, ended "if it had not been for you."
 
 At the Tomb of a Bishop 
 
 "Forme?" 
 
 "Yes," she said, laughing; "it sounds improb 
 able I know, but it is true. Now let us go and 
 look at the Bishop! I have forgotten exactly 
 where they keep him." 
 
 "Is he in a cage?" 
 
 "No, in a sort of pen." 
 
 He was not permitted a close examination of 
 the reredos, as Alida, holding such curiosity pro 
 fane, led the way across the church to a narrow 
 doorway in the western wall. And when they 
 passed through into the room where the good 
 Bishop lies in sculptured effigy, they found him 
 quite alone behind the iron railing, his eyes dis 
 creetly skyward. 
 
 The apartment is a small one, and the narrow 
 door into the church but little used. And the 
 statue, which is well thought of as a work of art, 
 repays five minutes passed before it or even ten. 
 
 "I did not see the Bishop at all, did you?" said 
 Anthony, when they were in the church once 
 more. 
 
 "No," said Alida, straightening her veil, "you 
 would not let me." 
 
 She walked so rapidly that a row of little doors 
 might have been passed unnoticed, and when he 
 protested against the pace, she expressed con 
 cern at being late for lunch. 
 
 "But I have no idea of being shaken off so
 
 318 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 soon," he announced, quickening his step 
 to come beside her; "besides there is some 
 thing rather important I think you ought to 
 know." 
 
 "You may tell it to me another time," she 
 said, suspecting insincerity, "perhaps day after 
 to-morrow." 
 
 "It will be too late then," he answered, with 
 a note of pathos that would have made a harder 
 heart than hers relent. 
 
 "I did not think you were in earnest," she 
 began, repentantly; "of course I want to hear." 
 
 "Then listen," he went on; "I am awfully 
 hungry." 
 
 "Is that all?" 
 
 "No, only the beginning; the rest will be in 
 French." 
 
 They stood beneath the shadow of the porch a 
 moment to watch the mid-day movement of 
 Broadway, while eyes and ears became adjusted 
 to the sudden burst of light and noise. It was 
 the time of relaxation and refreshment, though 
 a stranger might not have guessed it, a time of 
 cigarettes and apples, of nose bags andfl/ats des 
 jours, from Delmonico of the past, smiling many 
 headed across fifty tables, to Delmonico of the 
 future, dispensing hot waffles from a barrow. 
 Every one was thinking, among other things, of 
 lunch, those who were not to lunch perhaps hard-
 
 At the Tomb of a Bishop 319 
 
 est of all. But his luck was bad, indeed, who 
 could not at least contribute a banana to the 
 atmosphere of nutriment. 
 
 It was one o clock, and before the single stroke 
 a bar of sweet old music came to the senses like 
 a whiff of hay. The sky between the granite 
 cliffs was blue as aniline, the steam clouds white; 
 the flags stood straight out from the west. Above 
 and through the hurry of the street one felt the 
 stir of wider movements on river and bay and 
 sea, of barge and brig, lighter and liner, trader 
 and tramp, red rust upon the bow, white salt 
 upon the stack, bearing the tributes to the tithing 
 house. It was impossible to resist the impulse 
 of it. It was impossible to stand still. 
 
 "I think," said Alida, looking about her, "that 
 after all I should like to be a gold bug." 
 
 "Why don t you say an octopus at once?" 
 inquired Anthony. 
 
 "Because that would be too ambitious. I 
 should be satisfied as just an ordinary gold bug, 
 running in and out of banks, and climbing over 
 heaps and heaps of money just for the sake of 
 touching it." 
 
 Through the railing a lean man looked at them 
 like a wild thing from a cage. He had a tray in 
 his hand, and discerning something in them to 
 inspire confidence, he held up a card of collar 
 buttons.
 
 320 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 "Three cents apiece, two for five," he said, 
 mechanically, but more by way of salutation than 
 in hope of trade. 
 
 "Come in here; you are just the man I am 
 looking for," called Anthony, and as the lean 
 man shuffled through the gate, he added, "I am 
 not in need of collar buttons, but I should like 
 an automobile." 
 
 "Ah, go chase yourself!" replied the lean man, 
 sullenly, perceiving, as he thought, an ill-timed 
 jest. But he brightened when it was made clear 
 that he was wanted to go to Broad Street for a 
 cab. 
 
 "Here is a quarter in token of good faith," 
 said Anthony. 
 
 "All right," the man responded, depositing his 
 tray in a corner, "and this here is my collateral. 
 That s business, ain t it?" 
 
 "Excellent, but what is to prevent our running 
 off with the securities?" 
 
 "You will get stuck bad if you do," replied 
 the merchant, grinning. "You couldn t sell a 
 button to-day if there was a scrip dividend with 
 every one." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 "Oh, nothing, just the market s off. I never 
 see buttons flatter. I missed it not going into 
 rubber pigs, they re on the jump." 
 
 "Indeed they are," put in Alida, who took an
 
 At the Tomb of a Bishop 321 
 
 interest in the curbstone market. "I thought at 
 first they must be frogs." 
 
 "That s right," agreed the vendor, turning to 
 her. "I guess the folks that buys em never 
 seen a pig. It s just a boom, that s all it is; but 
 there s a puzzle coming out to-morrow that s 
 going to knock em silly; I ve got a tip." 
 
 "I suppose you are in on that," suggested 
 Anthony, but the lean man shook his head. 
 
 "Naw," he replied, "I haven t got the mar- 
 gin." 
 
 "That s too bad," said Anthony, and the other 
 shuffled off to get the cab. 
 
 Alida became thoughtful when the man had 
 gone upon his errand. Once or twice she seemed 
 about to say something that was to cost an effort, 
 but what she did say finally, was: "I take back 
 all I said about being a gold bug, I d rather be 
 an Anarchist." Somehow, behind the lean face 
 at the bars the granite banks had grown a trifle 
 less attractive. 
 
 Presently the messenger came breathlessly 
 back to say that the cab, delayed in Wall Street 
 by temporary complication with a truck, would 
 be along directly. 
 
 "Thank you," said Anthony; "and, by the 
 way, here is something a lady left for you." 
 
 "That be hanged for a yarn," replied the seller 
 of buttons, and perceiving his hand to contain a
 
 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 respectable margin for one who would speculate 
 in puzzles, he asked, in bewilderment, "Say, 
 boss, what is it you want me to do for this?" 
 
 "Climb out of the hole you are in, pardner," 
 said Anthony, laying a hand upon the shabby 
 shoulder. "Climb out and stay out." 
 
 Before they mounted to the automobile, Alida 
 turned for a last look at the lean speculator. 
 
 "I really believe," she said to Anthony, "that 
 he is giving all his collar buttons to the shoelace 
 man." 
 
 "That is just because he is poor himself," said 
 Anthony. "And yet you want to do away with 
 poverty and be an Anarchist." 
 
 "I don t," replied Alida, "I want to be what 
 ever you are."
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 THE MARKET CLOSES STRONG 
 
 Beside a window in an upper room they found 
 a waiter rearranging a table which had just been 
 vacated. 
 
 "Is this for any one in particular?" asked 
 Anthony. 
 
 "For monsieur and madame," replied the 
 Frenchman, in the spirit of diplomacy, at the 
 same time drawing back a chair. 
 
 Alida took off her gloves and laid them by the 
 water bottle together with her pocket-book con 
 taining eighteen cents. There was an odd sen 
 sation of domesticity in facing Anthony across a 
 table with bread and salt between them that 
 brought a becoming flush to her cheeks, and 
 her eyes were bright with a child s elation in a 
 treat. 
 
 "I am so glad you invited me," she said; "it 
 is just wrong enough to be nice." 
 
 Anthony waved a bill of fare aside, protesting 
 that they were there for lunch and not to go to 
 market. 
 
 "Perfectly," replied the waiter, who was a 
 person of discernment. "In that case monsieur 
 323
 
 324 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 and madame will doubtless begin with clear, green 
 turtle consomme in cups?" 
 
 "Of course," said Anthony. "What then?" 
 
 "That shall be followed, perhaps, by an ome 
 lette demi souffl with clams, which madame will 
 find excellent. After this will come a partridge 
 and salad, which with some strawberries, will be 
 quite enough. The wine will be a demi of Yquem, 
 and a little taste of something with the coffee if 
 desired." 
 
 "That is not a lunch," said Anthony, in French, 
 "it is a sonnet." 
 
 "Merely an epigram, monsieur," replied the 
 waiter, modestly; "it is only for the dinner that 
 one cries in poesy." 
 
 Alida smiled, but turned her head toward the 
 window. The waiter s fancy was amusing, yet 
 it told her something more. Some people made 
 every one they met a little better, a little cleverer, 
 a little happier for the meeting. 
 
 "I confess to feeling rather proud," said 
 Anthony; "if I had been alone he would have 
 given me chops and bottled stout. It is all your 
 influence." 
 
 "Indeed it is not," she protested. "If I were 
 alone I could have had nothing but chocolate ice 
 cream." 
 
 It interested her to determine at which table 
 she had lunched with the Brisbanes after the
 
 The Market Closes Strong 325 
 
 visit to the Stock Exchange, and Anthony sug 
 gested that they send a scout in search of B. J., 
 who might be somewhere in the building. To 
 this Alida replied that Mr. Brisbane was not in 
 the city, and the secret of the telegram having 
 been left to her discretion, she divulged it in an 
 undertone. 
 
 "Of course I should not have told any one 
 else," she said, beginning to butter a fragment 
 of bread, for her appetite was excellent, "because 
 it was only by an accident that I knew its mean 
 ing. 
 
 "It was rather a risky piece of theatrical busi 
 ness," commented Anthony, "and some day I 
 am afraid our friend B. J. will trust his luck too 
 far." 
 
 "How do you mean?" she asked with in 
 terest. 
 
 "I do not think he should have left town to 
 day, and I suspect him of liking the idea of a 
 secret expedition. Probably he will not be sorry 
 to get back this afternoon on the nick of time 
 for the meeting. He has a weakness for effective 
 entrances." 
 
 "Yes, Bessie always says he cares less for 
 money than for the fun of making it. I sent him 
 back the check." 
 
 "And have you heard from him?" 
 
 "No, but he said last night he had a bottle
 
 326 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 on the ice for me. What do you think he 
 meant?" 
 
 "That the money was still to your credit, I 
 suppose," he answered, laughing. "We shall 
 have to find a way for you to get even with B. J." 
 
 "That is not very likely," she replied; "I 
 always thought the fable of the lion and the 
 mouse a silly one." 
 
 "I thought it was a lion and a lamb." 
 
 "I don t mean that; I mean the one in which 
 the lion is caught in a net and the mouse, to 
 whom he has done an act of kindness, gnaws the 
 string and lets him out." 
 
 "Good for the mouse! The moral is: never 
 refuse a favor from a lion, for you can t tell how 
 soon you may have it in your power to do him a 
 greater one." 
 
 "That is not the moral at all!" 
 
 "Oh, yes, it is from the mouse s standpoint." 
 
 After a diversion, caused by the appearance of 
 the consomme, Alida said: "I do wish Mr. Jacob 
 had done something for Bell s account and risk 
 instead of mine." 
 
 "Are you very fond of Bell?" he asked. 
 
 Yes, Alida was very fond of Bell; they had 
 known each other so long; they had been at 
 school together, and her greatest temptation to 
 keep her fortune had been the thought of divid 
 ing it with Bell.
 
 The Market Closes Strong 327 
 
 "Let us wish something pleasant for her," 
 suggested Anthony,"and who knows but it may 
 come true?" 
 
 "I wish that Dr. Van Gaasbeck might find an 
 opening somewhere away from New York, where 
 no one has ever heard of Kenilworth Place. I 
 wish them just money enough to make a start." 
 
 "That sounds to me a little mean for a wish," 
 he said. 
 
 "But it is not at all, it is only what they would 
 wish for themselves." 
 
 "Then let us go on to Miss Brisbane. What 
 shall we give her?" 
 
 "I cannot think of anything she wants," 
 replied Alida, "unless it is a castle in Devon 
 shire." 
 
 "I m afraid you are too late with that," he 
 rejoined, laughing, "Lord Wensdale is ahead of 
 you." 
 
 "Oh, what makes you think so?" 
 
 "A remark made by his lordship that if all 
 went well he hoped his house would become a 
 rendezvous for selected Americans, and from 
 observation I should say all is going well." 
 
 "But they have known each other such a short 
 time only since New Year s Day!" 
 
 "Your argument is good, but not unanswer 
 able," he said, whereat they both laughed 
 merrily. And so they laughed again and again ;
 
 328 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 at everything and nothing; at themselves and 
 at the waiter, and at that good old chef the 
 Future, whose menu is inexhaustible when one 
 is young. 
 
 Once they were interested to observe a drama 
 in pantomime at a nearby table, where four stout 
 gentlemen lunched well. They had been study 
 ing the quartette as types, sublimating them 
 into marionettes who ate for their amusement, 
 which made the de nofitnent doubly entertaining. 
 Coffee had come, and the four chairs were pushed 
 slightly back, when a young man glided depre- 
 catingly into the room, glanced about, and 
 making his way to the side of the portly host, 
 said something in an undertone. Immediately 
 there followed a rapid interchange of question 
 and answer, and the four heads came together 
 across the cups. Then all four gentlemen rose 
 in haste and went out. 
 
 "Evidently something has gone wrong with 
 our friends," said Anthony, and Alida suggested, 
 hopefully: "Perhaps their cashier has run away 
 to Canada. Would it not be fun if we should 
 read an account of it in the papers?" 
 
 "More likely cotton has become strong," he 
 speculated. 
 
 "Or iron weak," added Alida, who felt herself 
 thoroughly commercial. 
 
 Meanwhile their waiter had taken a flyer on
 
 The Market Closes Strong 329 
 
 his own account. From heaven knows where he 
 had produced a rose, large, red, and dewy. 
 
 "It is as madame pleases," he said, respect 
 fully, as he laid his tribute before Alida, "but 
 perhaps " and when the bill had been paid he 
 showed no evidence of dissatisfaction with his 
 venture. 
 
 Two men, descending with them in the ele 
 vator, engaged in heated conversation. 
 
 "It looks to me as if the whole thing were 
 about to burst," said one, "and if it does, look 
 out for splinters!" 
 
 "I don t believe it," said the other; "I never 
 knew a man who took better care of himself than 
 B. J. Brisbane. I ll bet a hat he is as well as 
 either you or I this minute. 
 
 "I beg your pardon, sir," put in Anthony, as 
 a man may when common interests are involved, 
 "is Brisbane reported ill?" 
 
 "Yes," answered the pessimist, civilly, includ 
 ing Alida in his audience, "they say he had a 
 stroke of some sort in his office at noon. They 
 say that even Harris Fosdick had to come away 
 without seeing him." 
 
 "That don t prove anything," rejoined the 
 optimist, and Anthony remarked: "The story is 
 likely to be untrue. Brisbane was probably not 
 in his office at noon." 
 
 "How do you know?" demanded both at once.
 
 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 "I don t know positively." 
 
 Upon the steps, as the elevator passengers 
 went out together, the optimist encountering an 
 acquaintance coming in, exclaimed: "Say, Bris 
 bane is all right! I have just had it straight 
 from the inside; he wasn t even in his office at 
 noon." 
 
 "Sure? Where did you get it." 
 
 "I m not at liberty to tell." 
 
 "But the Walseheimer crowd are pounding 
 things on "Change!" 
 
 "Never mind, my tip is dead right!" 
 
 "Come," whispered Anthony, "we are becom 
 ing information bureaus." 
 
 "I never heard such a story-teller in my life," 
 Alida said, indignantly, as they stepped out on 
 the asphalt of Beaver Street to avoid the gather 
 ing groups upon the narrow sidewalk. Mean 
 while the automobile driver, catching sight of 
 his fares, folded a newspaper and prepared for 
 action. 
 
 As the clumsy vehicle wheeled, backed, paused, 
 and darted forward, scattering foot passengers 
 to right and left, the fares were compelled to 
 take refuge on the broad steps of the Corn 
 Exchange bank. When they had climbed into 
 their seats late comers, supposing them to be 
 the center of interest, pressed closer for a 
 better view.
 
 The Market Closes Strong 331 
 
 "What s the matter?" inquired a man who 
 carried a cane. 
 
 "Nawthing, " replied another with his hands in 
 his pockets. On Delmonico s steps the pessimist 
 still talked loudly, and twenty stopped to listen. 
 
 Then, from everywhere at once, there arose a 
 clamor. From Broadway and from Bowling 
 Green, from Broad Street and the far-off ferries 
 came the chorus: 
 
 "Extra! Extra! Extra!" 
 
 Like dogs who wake each other in the night 
 and spread the alarm from farm to farm, shrill 
 voice and harsh voice took up the cry, baying it, 
 yelping it, ringing the changes on it. From 
 every corner came the flash of the white, damp 
 sheets of the newspapers. One could almost 
 smell the ink, and one purblind could read the 
 print across the street: 
 
 "B. J. BRISBANE STRICKEN." 
 
 Extra! Extra! Extra! It was as though the 
 box of Pandora had been newly opened. 
 
 "It is not true," said Alida, her eyes bright 
 with excitement. "It can t be true!" 
 
 "Stop!" ordered Anthony, for the cab was 
 upon its way up Broad Street in the old track of 
 the yellow sleigh, and leaning out he bought a 
 paper from a yelling boy, the Evening Bonfire, 
 terror of octopi ! 
 
 "B. J. BRISBANE STRICKEN."
 
 332 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 The letters, a foot long, were in red, and sug 
 gested prudence to those nice in the matter of 
 gloves, but neither Alida nor Anthony considered 
 theirs as they held the page between them, and 
 with their heads close together, read the meager 
 text that justified the headline. 
 
 " A startling rumor is in circulation that B. J. 
 Brisbane was taken violently ill in his office at 
 fifteen minutes after twelve to-day while in the 
 act of lighting a cigar. 
 
 "He does not smoke cigars!" exclaimed Alida. 
 
 "I m sure he does not," assented Anthony. 
 
 " The attack is reported to be apoplexy, and 
 is said to have followed a lighter stroke which 
 took place early last evening. 
 
 "Oh, he was perfectly well then, or he would 
 not have gone to the theater." 
 
 "There is not a word of truth in the whole 
 story," asserted Anthony; "see what they say 
 themselves." 
 
 " Both at Mr. Brisbane s office and at his 
 residence the report is still strenuously denied, 
 though the reasons given for his failure to show 
 himself are far from convincing. 
 
 The remainder of the column was composed of 
 words hurriedly thrown together into phrases. 
 "Gigantic interests." "Failure of the Trans 
 continental Deal." "Disaster." "Panic." 
 "Ruin!"
 
 The Market Closes Strong 333 
 
 "Extra! Extra! All about B. J. Brisbane!" 
 
 "Extra! Extra! All about the Horrible 
 Panic!" 
 
 "Extra! Extra! All about the Terrible 
 Smash!" 
 
 "Go up as far as the Exchange," commanded 
 Anthony, "and don t go too fast." 
 
 There was no visible commotion though the 
 street was crowded, sidewalk and carriage way, 
 and men bought papers eagerly. Office t boys 
 sent out for copies read the news themselves 
 while hastening back. Brokers hurried from 
 restaurants still chewing, and walking briskly. 
 Windows were opened, cabs drew up, banana 
 barrows sought safety. The street was trem 
 bling on the verge of a disaster or a hoax. 
 
 "It s all a fake," one man said, confidently, 
 though his face was set. 
 
 "That s right," another added; "the bears 
 have had this up their sleeve all day." 
 
 "You see they don t believe it," cried 
 Alida, leaning out across the door in her excite 
 ment. 
 
 "Extra! Extra! Extra!" 
 
 "It s a fake!" "It s a lie!" "I know it to 
 be true!" "I ve seen a private wire!" "I bet 
 you two to one !" "Say, Brisbane s in his office !" 
 "He s on "Change." "I ll bet " "You lie." 
 Every minute the talk grew louder, every minute
 
 334 Tfie Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 the excitement grew, as by tens and scores the 
 crowd increased. 
 
 In front of the Exchange the automobile 
 stopped suddenly, to avoid collision with a han 
 som cab, which had turned in from Wall Street 
 at a reckless pace. It almost seemed that the 
 driver had wilfully risked disaster, and as the 
 horse fell back upon its haunches he stood up, 
 calling out reproaches with unnecessary violence. 
 
 "What do you think you ve got there, any 
 way?" he asked, "a steam roller?" 
 
 Alida noticed his face to be red as that of a 
 comic policeman on the stage, and fancied that 
 he spoke with an eye to the audience in a man 
 ner distinctly histrionic. But presently, glancing 
 at the occupants of the hansom, her interest in 
 its driver ended. There were two men in the 
 cab, one whom she was sure she did not know, 
 although his dark features, beneath an aggres 
 sively shiny hat, were oddly familiar, and another 
 whom Alida recognized with a thrill of triumph. 
 He wore a heavy, fur-lined overcoat, and where 
 his hat was pushed back from his forehead there 
 hung the curl suggestive of a dollar mark. 
 
 "It is Mr. Brisbane himself!" she cried. 
 
 "Yes, B. J. sure enough!" said Anthony, 
 scarcely less elated. "They can t catch that 
 particular sort of weasel sleeping. By Jove, the 
 fun has just begun!"
 
 The Market Closes Strong 335 
 
 Then some one fairly yelled: "There s Bris 
 bane!" and immediately the two vehicles became 
 the center of a rapidly increasing throng. A 
 hundred, two hundred, five hundred eager, 
 breathing men, before the hundreds could be told 
 off on the fingers. 
 
 The chief figure in the cab bent forward, smil 
 ing faintly, as though the commotion he had 
 created amused him, and the driver, who ap 
 peared anxious to recover something he had 
 dropped, made no effort to continue on his way. 
 
 "One hundred and ten for five hundred Big 
 B." 
 
 "Sold!" 
 
 "One hundred and twelve for a thousand or 
 any part!" 
 
 "Sold!" 
 
 "One hundred and fourteen " 
 
 "Sold!" 
 
 "Oh, is it not exciting," cried Alida, leaning 
 out across the doors; "did you ever see any 
 thing like it? But how pale he is!" 
 
 Meanwhile, the tumult in the Exchange became 
 a pandemonium to make the walls reverberate. 
 Excited members struggling to get in encountered 
 others coming out. The curbstone brokers from 
 the Mills Building ran in a body to join the fray. 
 Men leaped into the air offering to buy or sell; 
 they waved their arms and scribbled contracts on
 
 336 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 their cuffs. Hats were knocked off and trampled 
 under foot. From upper windows junior clerks 
 made sky rockets with ticker tape. 
 
 The man with a dollar mark had sank back 
 into the cab, his pale face growing paler every 
 moment, but when some one shouted, "How is 
 B. J. Brisbane?" he smiled again, and at the 
 bellowed chorus, "He s all right!" he rose with 
 an apparent effort, stepping forward as though 
 intending to descend, stood irresolute for a 
 moment, swayed, and caught the dash-board for 
 support. 
 
 "By George, I don t half like it yet," said 
 some one near the automobile. His collar, torn 
 open, had evidently seen hard usage. "The 
 Walseheimer clique are going short of the whole 
 list." 
 
 "Let em sell! We ll make them sick before 
 they re through with it." 
 
 "Do look at Mr. Brisbane!" cried Alida. 
 "I m sure he is not well! See, he can hardly 
 stand." 
 
 "No, he is all right." 
 
 The man of the dollar mark drew himself 
 erect, threw back one lapel of his great fur coat, 
 and paused an instant in the act of stepping 
 down. It almost seemed that he had come there 
 to be seen, to confute his enemies, and wanted 
 to make sure that everybody should recognize
 
 The Market Closes Strong 337 
 
 him. Then with all eyes turned upon him, his 
 features underwent a change, became distorted, 
 twitched convulsively. His mouth fell open and 
 grew set, his eyes began to roll, and falling for 
 ward he would have pitched headlong to the 
 pavement had not the other in the cab leaned 
 out to catch him. As he lay back rigid on the 
 seat, his head jerked painfully toward one 
 shoulder. 
 
 For a moment, for a score of heart beats, the 
 silence of an overpowering horror fell, and break 
 ing it the other man called in a voice that could 
 be heard a block: "Drive to a doctor, and drive 
 like hell! B. J. Brisbane is dying!" 
 
 Alida and Anthony were standing. They had 
 thrown back the doors, and from the higher level 
 of the platform could watch every movement of 
 the stricken man within the hansom, every spasm, 
 every jerk of the head. 
 
 "We will follow to the doctor s," he assured 
 her; "we will do everything that can be done." 
 But Alida, with her eyes fixed on the writhing 
 figure, did not appear to hear. In her excite 
 ment she would have lost her foothold on the 
 narrow ledge if he had not held her arm. 
 
 "Drive on," the dark man shouted louder than 
 before. "Make way there, damn you all! Make 
 way!" 
 
 Then something happened rather new on
 
 33 8 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 Change. A young lady in a neat gray tailor 
 suit, poised on the pilot of an automobile, held 
 up her muff as one who has authority. 
 
 "Don t let them go!" commanded Miss Van 
 Wandeleer, forgetting everything else in the ela 
 tion of a great discovery. "That is not Mr. Bris 
 bane in the cab, that is an actor named Volkert! 
 I tell you that is not Mr. Brisbane!" 
 
 Only a few of those nearest heard, but to more 
 than one the mere suggestion meant financial life 
 or death. What followed was like a whirlwind 
 rising from the ground, and like a whirlwind it 
 was over before the mind had time to realize it. 
 Alida, from the corner where she shrank, saw a 
 tidal wave of heads and shoulders press against 
 the hansom. She saw the brown horse rear and 
 plunge and Patrick Rooney, captain of the supes, 
 lean out to strike him with a heavy stick. She 
 saw Anthony with his hat off in the thick of it, 
 holding back excited men until the blue arm of 
 authority came to the relief, and Edward Vol 
 kert, divested of his furs, stood glaring tragic 
 defiance across the shoulders of a cordon of 
 police. From the Stock Exchange went up to 
 heaven the mightiest bull yell ever known, for 
 Alida had saved the Transcontinental deal. 
 
 "Go anywhere," panted Anthony, springing in 
 beside her, "go anywhere you please, but stop at 
 a hat store on the way."
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 THE LAST 
 
 There was in Mrs. Ruggles s establishment an 
 unwritten ukase against newspapers at the break 
 fast-table. Nobody ever read them there, nobody 
 ever thought of such a thing, except, of course, 
 upon the morning after election. This rule 
 remained in rigid force until half past nine, from 
 which time breakfast, officially past, continued 
 as a concession rather than a right. Then it was 
 that little Mr. Ruggles unfolded his Herald with 
 a knowing wink, for he still believed it rather 
 rakish to affect the Herald. Then Miss Deusen- 
 bury and Miss Toll, who took the Tribune between 
 them, announced every morning each in her turn 
 a preference for the supplement. Then Mrs. 
 Van Gaasbeck read the Sun with a satisfaction 
 attributed more to that lady s nature than her 
 paper. Grandma Epps, who never read any 
 thing, did not come to breakfast. Mrs. Van 
 Wandeleer s taste inclined her to a paper that 
 prints alone that which is fit for publication. 
 Cousin Caroline boldly took the Morning Jour 
 nal. "If I cannot afford to read what is going 
 on," she said, "I should like to know who can?" 
 339
 
 340 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 In politics, Miss De Wint was in open sympathy 
 with an organization wherein her father and her 
 grandfather had been sachems, and which had 
 made her mother s uncle mayor. She had even 
 been suspected of a cunningly worded request for 
 intercessory prayer which had trapped the rector 
 into a petition for the success of Tammany Hall. 
 Thus it was that, on the morning following 
 Alida s experience on Change, her godmother 
 alone possessed a spirited representation of a 
 young lady with pretty feet standing on the top 
 of an automobile amid the plaudits of a multi 
 tude. 
 
 " WHO WAS THE GIRL IN GRAY? " she sniffed, 
 in the words of a not inconspicuous headline, 
 " Supposed to be a well-known society belle, 
 she quoted further, and added as of greater 
 probability, "Supposed to be a hussy!" 
 
 "Hello, what s this!" cried little Mr. Ruggles. 
 "By George, that Broad Street incident was true! 
 Didn t believe it when I saw it in the papers last 
 night, I didn t, on my word. I don t believe 
 ever more than half of what the papers say," and 
 this was true of Mr. Ruggles, but he commonly 
 believed the wrong half. 
 
 "Some vulgar practical joke among the brok 
 ers," commented Mrs. Van Wandeleer, glancing 
 languidly at her more conservative account. "I 
 dislike such things extremely."
 
 The Last 341 
 
 "The Sun s reports are always so delightful," 
 murmured Mrs. Van Gaasbeck; "I read them for 
 the English," and the doctor, looking over his 
 mother s shoulder, put on his heavy glasses to 
 get in touch with the conversation. 
 
 "Pretty good," he commented, laughing; 
 "Mr. Volkert should have been there as an 
 expert on fits; don t you think so, Miss Van 
 Wandeleer?" 
 
 ."Yes, indeed," replied Alida, reddening furi 
 ously. She would have given a good deal to 
 have had a paper of her own. But nobody 
 observed the blush. Even Miss Toll was read 
 ing what the king had worn, and Miss Deusenbury 
 book reviews. 
 
 "By the way, where is the Volkert boy?" 
 inquired Bella Senior, folding up a rather lengthy 
 letter from a friend in Ceylon, and Bell, who at 
 a side table, made market memoranda, suggested 
 that he had probably overslept himself. 
 
 "It seems," announced Mr. Ruggles, as ever 
 greatly interested in that which least concerned 
 him, "that the lady was Miss Harriet Waterhouse 
 Wotherspoon, a well-known writer." 
 
 "Of course," said Miss De Wint, with biting 
 irony, "and as the well-known horse came round 
 the corner he upset a barrow containing a num 
 ber of well-known bananas, which a well-known 
 newsboy immediately appropriated."
 
 342 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 "To be sure; to be sure," chuckled Mr. Rug- 
 gles, with appreciation, and Miss De Wint went 
 on to say, correctively: "The girl was a certain 
 Tottie Twinkingham of the Alhambra, which 
 accounts for her agility in climbing." 
 
 "Where did she climb?" Alida asked, but no 
 one answered, and Mrs. Van Gaasbeck read: 
 " It is whispered that the attractive and self- 
 possessed young person whose timely and effec 
 tive appearance contributed so much to the 
 enjoyment of the occasion, was not unconnected 
 by ties of blood with a leading manager of spec 
 tacular finance. If this be so, her taste for situ 
 ations is explained, and papa will hardly grudge 
 the diamond necklace so conspicuously deserved. 
 Alida, my dear, that would seem to indicate your 
 friend, Miss Brisbane, would it not?" 
 
 "Oh, no!" exclaimed Alida, "I am absolutely 
 certain that it was not Bessie." 
 
 Mrs. Van Gaasbeck raised her eyebrows. 
 "The paper would hardly go so far without ex 
 cellent authority," she said, "and you know 
 Western people do not see things just as we 
 do." 
 
 "Miss Brisbane is a girl of perfect breeding," 
 put in Cousin Caroline, springing to the rescue. 
 "I should as soon suspect Alida herself." And 
 Alida felt herself grow pale. 
 
 She had dressed with more than wonted atten-
 
 The Last 343 
 
 tion to detail that morning, and had bestowed 
 especial thought upon her hair, for this was to be 
 a wonderful day. It was to be, after yesterday, 
 the greatest day that ever dawned, and now the 
 stupid papers threatened to spoil it all. She had 
 done nothing that she was ashamed of, nothing 
 that she would not do again. She did not care 
 if every one in the world knew all about it, every 
 one except her mother and her godmother and 
 Mrs. Van Gaasbeck and a few others who did not 
 understand her, and who accused her, without 
 knowing it, of being acrobatic and Western and 
 ill-bred. Somebody else had thought her brave 
 and courageous, and even the horrid paper had 
 called her attractive and self-possessed. Here 
 no one had a word except in criticism. They 
 even seemed to lack human sympathy for the 
 Transcontinental deal. 
 
 Meanwhile the Broad Street ripple, having 
 spent its strength upon the placid sands of Kenil- 
 worth Place, subsided. .Little Mr. Ruggles 
 bustled off declaring he would be late for an 
 appointment, with Bell behind him to brush his 
 shabby little hat. The doctor, nicely calculating 
 seconds, was in the hall before the front door 
 closed, and the doctor s mother did not follow 
 until a full two minutes had gone by. The in 
 evitable had met Mrs. Van Gaasbeck and was 
 negotiating terms. Then everybody rose and
 
 344 TAe Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 went their several ways, and the great day shoul 
 dered its pack like ever other day. 
 
 Alida did not leave the dining-room with the 
 others, but lingered in the hope of seeing Edward 
 Volkert, who supposedly, had overslept. She 
 had dined out on the evening before a night 
 mare dinner of commonplace decorum. She 
 wanted now to make a bargain with him. It was 
 distasteful to her, but it must be done if irrele 
 vant matters were not to intrude themselves 
 upon their betters. 
 
 As she waited, she took up an abandoned 
 paper and read the exploits of The Girl in Gray, 
 she of the pretty feet. It was a consolation to 
 find the account so unlike what had happened, 
 and the varied descriptions of herself which the 
 reporter had been able to glean at second hand 
 were most reassuringly inaccurate. With a little 
 wisdom and a great deal of luck, confession 
 might very well be put off until well, until it 
 made no difference. At first Alida found amuse 
 ment in the paper, but further down the column 
 her face grew suddenly serious. Such words as 
 conspiracies, investigations, trials, occurred with 
 frequency, and further on she saw a mention of 
 sentences and Sing Sing. Not for the girl in 
 gray, of course, everybody had such good words 
 for the girl in gray that they might be half in 
 love with her, but for one alluded to most often
 
 The Last 345 
 
 as the poor tool who was, it seemed, predestined 
 to vicarious suffering on the behalf of certain 
 wicked persons who had not stopped at travesty 
 of death to serve their base designs. These, it 
 was prophesied, would go unpunished, unless a 
 righteous public sentiment could be aroused 
 against them, while the trembling, half-starved 
 wretch 
 
 Alida caught her breath. It had not before 
 occurred to her that the simple exposure of a 
 sham illness could entail serious consequences 
 upon any one. Of course the papers, in their 
 sensational way, were making too much of it. 
 It was absurd to speak of such things as crimes, 
 but it would be a relief to see Volkert, and a 
 much greater one to see somebody who really 
 knew. 
 
 At the sound of the front door opening and an 
 approaching step upon the marble of the hall, 
 Alida stopped reading and looked up. Before 
 her stood the trembling wretch himself, the poor 
 tool in his proper, though disheveled person, and 
 assuredly he appeared to be half starved. 
 
 One glance would have been enough to satisfy 
 the most unobserving that Edward Volkert had 
 not overslept. No one with eyes so hollow could 
 have slept at all. No one with raiment so dis 
 ordered could have been recently in bed; that is, 
 as being in bed is generally understood. His
 
 346 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 face was grimy, his hair uncombed, his linen far 
 below reproach, and he had the appearance of 
 one who has been sprinkled with straw. 
 
 "Is breakfast over?" he inquired, in a voice 
 suggesting bronchial troubles. 
 
 "Yes," replied Alida, regarding him with 
 wonder, "long ago." 
 
 Edward Volkert made no comment on this 
 piece of information; possibly the general aspect 
 of the table had prepared him for it, but went at 
 once to the pantry, where Alida heard him rat 
 tling among dishes. Presently, when he returned, 
 he had compassed a sandwich constructed of two 
 cold buckwheat cakes. 
 
 "What did you have for breakfast?" he in 
 quired, somewhat wistfully. 
 
 Alida would have liked to ask several ques 
 tions, but knowing that whatever Mr. Volkert 
 had upon his mind would not remain long a 
 secret, she restrained herself, and answered: "I 
 don t remember; several things, fish and kidneys 
 and something else." 
 
 "It tastes to me like mutton hash," replied the 
 poor tool, taking another bite. 
 
 "Why don t you ring the bell?" Alida asked, 
 throwing down the paper, and rising to perform 
 an act of bare humanity. 
 
 "Don t!" cried Volkert, with his back against 
 the bell, "I don t think Mary s heart could stand
 
 The Last 347 
 
 the jar. I m a pretty object, ain t I? Look as 
 though I had been out all night, don t I?" 
 
 "You don t look very well," Alida admitted. 
 "Have you really been out all night?" 
 
 "Worse than that," he answered, grinning, 
 "I ve been in all night, in the bull pen, in the 
 cooler, in the Church Street station house." 
 
 "In the station house?" 
 
 "That s where," continued Volkert, openly 
 gratified at Alida s expression of dismay; "you 
 saw me nabbed." 
 
 "Why, yes," she said, with increasing concern, 
 "but the last time they let you go in a few 
 blocks I thought they always did." Yet, in 
 truth, Alida had not concerned herself greatly in 
 the affairs of Edward Volkert. 
 
 "They don t always," he replied, laconically, 
 and retired for a second sandwich like the first, 
 and this time he secured some coffee, also cold. 
 
 I am so sorry, said Alida, truly repentant for 
 her selfishness, "But I never thought; if I had, I 
 should have told Dr. Van Gaasbeck at once." 
 
 "I m mighty glad you didn t," the criminal 
 interrupted, speaking between bites ; "Van Gaas 
 beck hasn t pull enough to work a grab bag. I 
 had the slickest lawyer in the bunch. Big fat 
 fellow with a diamond that would hypnotize a 
 ghost. He called the cop a pachyderm in but 
 tons, and showed the judge a book that said a
 
 348 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 gentleman could have fits wherever he pleased. 
 Then he talked about accidental resemblances, 
 and said if people could be locked up for what 
 they looked like, half of us would be in the zoo. 
 He called my arrest an outrage on civilization, 
 and demanded an ambulance, and almost cried 
 to think how they had treated me, and how my 
 distracted parents would feel about it." 
 
 "He must have been very clever," said Alida, 
 "for of course you know you did behave out 
 rageously. I don t believe you realize what 
 trouble you might have made." 
 
 "Nevermind that," Volkert interrupted, hold 
 ing up a warning buckwheat crescent, "I haven t 
 time just now for family prayers. The fact is, 
 I m only out now on a technicality, an oversight, 
 that will be corrected as soon as the district 
 attorney has had his bath. I ve got to get across 
 the river, in spite of a plain clothes man outside 
 who is ready to bet I can t." 
 
 "A detective!" gasped Alida. 
 
 "He thinks he is." 
 
 "Oh, dear, what will you do?" 
 
 "I stopped at the drug store and telephoned 
 for a Pennsylvania cab to take me to the Twenty- 
 third Street ferry." 
 
 "That was a good idea." 
 
 "Yes, wasn t it? My foxy friend came in, too, 
 to consult the directory, and heard every word.
 
 The Last 349 
 
 He thinks me easy fruit. Would you mind 
 watching at the front window while I run up 
 for my bag, and nodding to the cabman when 
 he comes? It s just as well he should not 
 ring." 
 
 "Indeed, I will do everything I can," Alida 
 assented, willingly. 
 
 When the cab arrived she followed her instruc 
 tions, and shrank back behind the curtain to 
 avoid the penetrating glances of an aggressively 
 unobtrusive person sauntering past. Volkert 
 came back almost immediately, a little cleaner 
 than he had been, and if possible, more hollow- 
 eyed. In his hand he carried a dilapidated 
 satchel which he exhibited with satisfaction. 
 
 "It contains," he said, "three odd shoes, a 
 tooth mug, and a broken concertina my contri 
 bution to the Mulberry Street collection." 
 
 "I suppose you know what you are going to 
 do," she ventured, doubtingly. 
 
 "You bet," he retorted, with confidence; "I 
 am going to give that fellow out there the sad 
 farewell, the gentle shake, somewhere between 
 here and the ferry. Then I may swim the river, 
 I may take ship for Staten Island and cross the 
 Kill Von Kull; at any rate I m due in Colorado 
 as quick as I can make connections." 
 
 "Colorado?" 
 
 "Yes, I am going to begin again. I have the
 
 350 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 needful, and a letter to a party who will make a 
 man of me. I m glad the contract is not mine. 
 Good by! I haven t another soul on earth to 
 say good by to." 
 
 "But your grandmother," Alida reminded him, 
 "surely you are not going away without seeing 
 her!" 
 
 "Grandma is asleep," he answered, doubt 
 fully, then, as an impish fancy struck him, he 
 darted to the red rep sofa, and catching up a 
 cushion, molded it into the semblance of a human 
 head, having a tidy for a night-cap. It might 
 have been a bit of juggler s hypnotism, but in 
 the dimly lighted room the effigy certainly did 
 suggest Grandma Epps recumbent. 
 
 "Farewell, mine ancient mentor, my venerable 
 guardian!" he murmured, stepping back a pace, 
 and looking down upon the pillow, tenderly. 
 "I go but to return, respected, famous, rich." 
 
 "Don t do it, Edward, I forbid it!" came the 
 familiar tones of Grandma Epps, and Volkert, 
 hurriedly recovering his satchel, held out a hand 
 toward Alida. 
 
 "That s what it would have been," he told 
 her, lightly; "that is all there has ever been 
 between the old lady and me. Good by! I 
 suppose you will be married long before I see 
 you again. Good by!" 
 
 "Good by," replied Alida, warmly, and not
 
 The Last 
 
 without emotion. She had not been a friend to 
 Edward Volkert. She had often snubbed him 
 and always disregarded him like the others of his 
 world, and when she saw him in trouble she had 
 gathered up her skirts and passed by on the other 
 side. Now the pathos of this leave-taking gave 
 her a pang not wholly undeserved. After all, 
 was he not of the old stock, though swept aside 
 and trodden under by the rush of newer life? Was 
 he not of the blood that was her boast, and was 
 not the disgrace he had brought upon it hers in 
 part? 
 
 "Tell me how you ever came to do it," she 
 cried, detaining him a moment; "tell me in a few 
 words. I shall understand." 
 
 "They said it was to be a joke, " he answered, 
 flushing while his restless eyes grew fixed and 
 intent on hers. "Pat Rooney had a bet of 
 course I would not take a cent of it I did what I 
 did for art." 
 
 "Just one thing more," Alida interposed, 
 "how did you how did they know Mr. Brisbane 
 was to be out of town?" 
 
 "That s telling." 
 
 "But you must tell me," she insisted. 
 
 "Oh, all right," he said, impatient to be off. 
 "They sent B. J. a fake dispatch, some cipher 
 that would be sure to fetch him. I had nothing 
 to do with it. Now, are you satisfied?"
 
 352 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 Alida had expected to learn of some trickery 
 among the vulgar employees of the theater, some 
 plot of prying footmen; she was not prepared for 
 this. 
 
 "Satisfied?" she repeated, quietly, "no, 
 Edward, I am not ; there was but one person who 
 could have betrayed that cipher, and that was 
 his secretary." 
 
 "Serena?" demanded Volkert, blankly. He 
 was an actor but this was not acting. "Why she 
 is in Montreal. She takes the soubrette in the 
 traveling Mr. Nobody, and they open there to 
 night, so Rooney says." 
 
 "Rooney?" 
 
 "Yes, he is their advance. She is Serena 
 Sandys now. " 
 
 Alida stood a moment trying to collect her 
 thoughts. And so Serena had achieved the bits 
 of colored glass she called her jewels, leaving 
 her father s name to be remembered in the Home 
 for Gentlewomen. And before her Edward Vol 
 kert waited her permission to be gone, a fugitive. 
 Was there to be none of them left? Was there 
 no just man among them? No, not one? 
 
 "God knows what I should have done without 
 your help, Alida," said Volkert, speaking 
 solemnly, after a pause between them. But even 
 as he spoke the words from his heart, he could 
 not restrain a gesture of the arm, a clenching of
 
 The Last 
 
 the fist accompanying them, an inflection in the 
 voice which made them ring less true. 
 
 "Without me?" sheaskedhim, in bewilderment. 
 
 "Yes, you or the man you are to marry. He 
 would never have come to get me out if you had 
 not sent him. " 
 
 "Edward," she confessed, contritely, "I did 
 not send him." 
 
 "Well, then, he came himself," he answered, 
 with a laugh. "It s all the same. I m glad you ve 
 such a fellow to look after you, Alida, and I m 
 mighty glad you are to have the forty million. " 
 
 "I don t know what you mean," she said. 
 
 "Well, you have got more time to find out than 
 I have to stand here talking. Good by, Alida, 
 you re a brick! I ll send you back a horned 
 toad by mail; they live on flies." 
 
 "Good by. Good luck." 
 
 The front door closed, sending a tinkling 
 shiver through the crystals of the chandelier, and 
 Edward Volkert, grotesque and irresponsible to 
 the last, struck out upon the Sunset Trail with 
 three odd shoes, a tooth mug, and a broken 
 concertina; and a lighter heart never tricked a 
 turnkey since Tubal Cain made iron bars. 
 
 Alida watched the cab drive away and noted 
 that the plain clothes man was not in sight. Per 
 haps he had gone on ahead to the ferry.
 
 354 The Last of the Knickerbockers 
 
 Through the dimness of the Ruggles parlor, 
 Chancellor De Vos looked sternly at the Lady 
 with a Rose attributed to Sully; the painted 
 sloops of the Hudson River School lay idly be 
 calmed. Wherever the cold light fell, it showed 
 some frayed edge of the red rep furniture, dis 
 closed some faded patch of carpet, some scratch 
 upon the red mahogany doors. 
 
 Kenilworth Place is quiet in the morning, so 
 quiet that one can hear the hoofs of horses on 
 the asphalt as they turn the corner from Fifth 
 Avenue. And now Alida heard them coming 
 nearer," coming near; well broken horses stepping 
 in unison, wonderful horses, bringing the tribute 
 of the Cattle Trust, bringing the glory of the 
 world, and the pride of life and something more 
 beside to which the rest was nothing. Slowly 
 she crossed to the piano, and sitting down before 
 it, touched the yellow keys. 
 
 "And have you been to Borderland?" 
 she sang. 
 
 " Some day together, hand in hand, 
 I ll take you there, to Borderland, 
 
 Beside the river I forget. 
 Some day when all our dreams come true, 
 One kiss for me and one 
 If Alida did not finish the song it was for a 
 very good reason.
 
 PRINTED BY R. R. DONNELLEY 
 AND SONS COMPANY, AT THE 
 LAKESIDE PRESS, CHICAGO, ILL.
 
 (f\
 
 A 000 671 482