JOHNO'PARTLETTS' 
 
 A TALE OF STRIFE AND COURAGE 
 
 EDGERTON HOVEY
 
 
 
 SHE LAY BREATHING IN HER FATHER S ARMS. 
 
 (See page 293)
 
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 JOHN O' 
 PARTLETTS' 
 
 A TALE o^ 1 STRIFE AND COURAGE 
 
 
 By 
 
 31can Siiiitcrtnn iHiuiry 
 
 
 Illustrated by 
 Eimunli Ij. CSarrttt 
 
 
 Olompattij ::: iKirrrrxtti 
 
 
 
 XjJtJiJLJtJiJiJlJiJtAJtAAJtJiJtJiJtJiJiJLJLJ[J[***A 

 
 Copyright, 191S, by 
 
 L. C. PAGE & COMPANY 
 
 (INCORPORATED) 
 
 All rights reserved 
 First Impression, September, 1913 
 
 THE COLONIAL PRESS 
 C. H. SIMONDB <k CO., BOSTON, TT. 8. A.
 
 TO 
 
 2f. IE., Uettina, ani CopcIanK 
 
 AN INITIAL AUDIENCE OF THREE IN THE GREY HOUSE 
 ON THE HILL 
 
 2136136 '
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTEIl PAGE 
 
 I. THE COMING OF JIM ..... 1 
 
 II. PARTLETTSVILLE 11 
 
 III. SOME MORE ABOUT JIM .... 22 
 
 IV. " GIVE A DOG A BAD NAME " . . 32 
 V. " AND HANG HIM .... 47 
 
 VI. JIM GOES TO PARTLETTS' .... 57 
 
 VII. JOHN 80 
 
 VIII. JOHN GOES TO PARTLETTS' . . . 103 
 
 IX. A PLAN Is FRUSTRATED .... 122 
 
 X. A LIGHT GOES OUT IN THE VALLEY . 133 
 
 XL SPRING 141 
 
 XII. THE LOSING OF JIM . . . . . 147 
 
 XIII. JIM PROVES A PROBLEM . . , . 156 
 
 XIV. THE RETURN OF JIM 165 
 
 XV. PARTLETTS' 177 
 
 XVI. THE RED BRAND AT PARTLETTS' . . 185 
 
 XVII. CLERICAL AND OTHERWISE . . . 203 
 
 XVIII. DEACON SAWREY EXPLAINS . . . 216 
 
 XIX. WINTER 282 
 
 XX. JOHN o' PARTLETTS' IN THE DARK VAL- 
 LEY 245 
 
 XXI. A GLIMPSE OF SPRING .... 259 
 
 XXII. THE STORM 267 
 
 XXIIL THE SEARCH 275 
 
 XXIV. THE RESCUE 283 
 
 XXV. PARTLETTS' AT PEACE . 301
 
 FAQB 
 
 " SHE LAY BREATHING IN HER FATHER'S ARMS." (See 
 
 page 293) Frontispiece 
 
 " SHE OPENED HER HAND AND SHOWED A LONG, 
 
 CROOKED THORN" 98 
 
 " BROUGHT HER CHAIR OUT ON HER LITTLE PIAZZA 
 
 AND SAT THERE ROCKING AND GOSSIPING " . 141 
 
 " ' ONE MORE STROKE, OLD MAN! BRING HER IN I '" 293
 
 JOHN 0' PARTLETTS* 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 THE COMING OF JIM 
 
 HE was not the ' ' pertest ' ' little nigger in 
 the world, if he had been it would have 
 been better for him, for, in that case, no 
 doubt he would have been a popular member 
 of the community. That was what the com- 
 munity was looking for, a real jollification 
 little nigger ; one of the kind that can chuckle 
 all the time, turn handsprings, make funny 
 sayings, and between whiles turn off work as 
 easily as the handsprings, one of the kind 
 that one sometimes reads about in books. 
 
 But Jim had never been of the " peart " 
 order, not even at home on the old planta- 
 tion, not even among the other little picka- 
 
 1
 
 John o' Partletts' 
 
 ninnies, where there was liveliness and game- 
 making a-plenty. He had always sat apart, 
 always looked dreamy. But there no one 
 noticed or paid any attention; he was one 
 among scores of pickaninnies. Lost in the 
 crowd his insignificant little person passed 
 unremarked. 
 
 But here he stood alone, the only little 
 black boy, far or near; people even came a 
 distance to see him. He lived in an atmos- 
 phere of publicity and undue prominence 
 which was strange to the last degree. Some- 
 times he was frightened, he wanted to run 
 and hide. 
 
 Anyhow, there was nothing in the world 
 that he cared for now, since his Grand- 
 mammy died, but to go off by himself some- 
 where, fold his hands, and look up at the blue 
 sky when there was any blue in the sky 
 and dream. Look moony as the neigh- 
 bors called it. 
 
 And at such times he could see as plain as 
 day, just on the outskirts of a great orange 
 grove in Florida, a little cabin that he knew
 
 The Coming of Jim 
 
 well. Looming in the distance he could see 
 a big, big white house. Marse Desverney'a 
 house, where his Pa worked as butler, and 
 the little Desverney children racing over the 
 piazza in their white dresses, with gold 
 chains around their necks; he knew they 
 were " sp'ilt es pizen," for their old nurse 
 used to say so when she came out for a chat 
 at the quarters: " Bad an' sp'ilt es pizen; 
 but pretty! an' dat smart 1 " And he 
 loved to watch them with their bright hair, 
 their twinkling feet, and their wonderful, 
 white faces with the merry, roguish eyes. 
 They never called ' ' nigger ' ' at him ; if they 
 had called " nigger " at every pickaninny 
 that passed by they would have done nothing 
 but call " nigger " all day long. If he was 
 noticed at all, it was usually by Miss Mari- 
 etta, who would push her glowing, mischie- 
 vous face which was as bright-eyed as 
 some bird's between the railings, and call 
 out in her merry, friendly voice : * ' Hello, 
 little Jim, is that you! " 
 And he could see, too, the great orange
 
 John o' Partletts' 
 
 grove Marse Desverney's great grove 
 all shining and glittering; that was before 
 the big " friz " came, and every tree stood 
 up round and grand against the blue, blue 
 sky; and he could see the small, waxy blos- 
 soms, and the fat, round buds; he could 
 smell theml And he could see the ripening 
 fruit, great balls of green, streaked and mot- 
 tled with brightest yellow, hanging in heavy 
 clusters on the slow-waving, perfumed 
 boughs. And he seemed to hear the darkeys 
 as they " hand packed de oranges," ranged 
 up along the fence railings, dropping the big 
 fruit softly into the clean crates, swaying 
 slightly with the motion and singing, now 
 those on that side of the big gate : 
 
 " Tall es a lily, an' es white es milk 
 Who dat a-callin'? 
 
 Fair es de cotton-weed, an' sof es silk, 
 Who dat a-callin' me? " 
 
 And those on the other side of the big gate, 
 taking up the melody in deep, melodious 
 voices :
 
 The Coming of Jim 
 
 " Who dat a-callin'? 
 Who dat a-callin'? 
 Who dat a-callin' me? 
 Ol ; Mis' a-callin'! 
 OF Mis' a-callin'! 
 Over 'cross Jordan, callin* me! " 
 
 Then the soft, regnlar drop, drop of the 
 fruit, the deep, hearty guffaws, the barking 
 of dogs round the cabin doors, the clear 
 voices of the white children up at the big 
 house, the shrill, half wild calls of the pick- 
 aninnies as they rushed to and fro, and, 
 over all, the blue, blue sky, and the smell of 
 the orange blossoms, so sweet, so strong, 
 that it seemed to go through, through, to the 
 very heart ! 
 
 Then some sudden noise, and his vision 
 was gone ! And when he turned his eyes to 
 the bleak, bare road and fields about him, 
 and to the little huddle of small, grey houses 
 which crouched at the foot of the hill and 
 constituted the town of Partlettsville, there 
 was no light of enthusiasm in them; indeed, 
 there was a look of isolation and weari-
 
 6 John o' Partletts' 
 
 ness, yes, and even of downright unhap- 
 piness ! 
 
 And this was what Partlettsville had 
 against Jim. He was unhappy. And what 
 right had any one to be unhappy, to look 
 downhearted and lonesome in such a com- 
 munity? A perfectly self-respecting, early- 
 to-bed and early-to-rise, capable, punctual, 
 walk-along- the-narrow-road community! It 
 would have been outrageous and impertinent 
 for anyone to set himself up so; but when 
 it came to a nigger! Partlettsville felt, but 
 did not openly express its indignation. Kitty 
 Merryweather, however, freely gave tongue. 
 
 " There's nothin' to them black people at 
 bottom, but badness and sneakiness! The 
 old woman was the only one I ever see that 
 I could tolerate. They're thieves an' liars, 
 the pack o' them! " 
 
 Kitty might have added that the only 
 black people she had ever seen in her life 
 were Jim and his Grandmammy. She and 
 the old woman had been on amicable terms 
 up to the time of the latter 's death. This
 
 The Coming of Jim 
 
 had occurred five months before; just as a 
 late, dragging Spring came to the cold little 
 town the old darkey passed away. She had 
 lived and worked here during the long Win- 
 ter, but she was not to see the fruit orchards 
 in bloom, of which she had heard much. 
 
 She and Jim had come the Fall before, 
 strangers to a strange place, quite by acci- 
 dent, and after the following manner : 
 
 After the " great friz " came to Marse 
 Desverney's orchard, things did not go on 
 so easily; more than two-thirds of the finest 
 trees died; since the war money was not 
 a-plenty with Marse Desverney, and he could 
 not replant rapidly. Thus many hands that 
 had been very busy were idle, and then, of 
 course, as night follows day, money became 
 scarce. To crown all the woes of that winter, 
 " OP yaller Jim," little Jim's father, Marse 
 Desverney's butler, took sick, " wid de ex- 
 tremity ob de cold," and died. Then it was 
 that Jim's old Grandmammy, who had al- 
 ways been of a restless and independent 
 nature, and who had always a deep wish
 
 8 John o' Partletts' 
 
 within her to see de worl', was enticed by 
 what she heard of the fine sights and grand 
 ways in other parts of the country, for, 
 the war lately over, strangers had already 
 begun to come into Florida, and before any 
 one realized what she was about, almost 
 before she knew it herself, she had gathered 
 the belongings of herself and little grandson 
 and was travelling North. 
 
 Useless to tell how she journeyed. Chance 
 directed her, and, before long, she came to 
 one of the great Northern cities, the very 
 greatest, I believe, and there went into 
 service. But not for nothing had she been 
 bred in the country, and soon a longing for 
 the green things came over her. She ' ' hired 
 out " to service in the suburbs. But here, 
 somehow, whether it was true or not, she 
 took up the idea that those about her 
 " hadn't no fancy fV seein' Jim around." 
 All the little boy knew was, that one day she 
 said to him: " Come 'long, honey, we'se 
 gwine light out from here." And so they 
 did.
 
 The Coming of Jim 9 
 
 This happened in September, when the 
 beautiful drowsy, hazy Indian summer that 
 comes to the North lay over the land. It was 
 warm, the golden-rod was in bloom, the old 
 woman had some money in her bag, her 
 wages, "an' good wages fo' true! " And 
 she was happy. They drifted along to the 
 tune of: " Now we come dis fur, honey, an' 
 seem' how things goes, I guess we'll work 
 back South." 
 
 The towns were close together. They 
 would walk from one town to the next. Peo- 
 ple were kind, sometimes food and lodging 
 were given, sometimes the old woman worked 
 in payment. And many a lift they received 
 along the high road. 
 
 "Which direction are you going in?" 
 some kind-hearted driver would ask them. 
 " Are you going to Abbottsville, or to St. 
 John's? " 
 
 " Oh, we'se jes' gwine 'long," the old 
 darkey would reply unconcernedly. As a 
 matter of fact, how should she know one 
 town from another! She did not know which
 
 10 John o' Partletts' 
 
 direction was north and which south ; doubt- 
 less she could scarcely have told which state 
 in the Union she was in. Space meant noth- 
 ing to her, she had no comprehension of 
 distances. She had a vague idea that they'd 
 " git South before the hard fros* ketch 
 *em." And that was about all. 
 
 And thus it happened that they drifted 
 into Partlettsville toward the middle of Oc- 
 tober. And here they stayed, because here 
 " de hard fros' ketch 'em."
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 PABTLETTSVILLE 
 
 As Jim's Grandmammy remarked: " Et 
 seem like de hard fros' ketch yo' mighty 
 quick in dis 'ere part ob de worl '. ' ' She saw 
 the necessity of abiding, and settled down 
 with what grace she could, to winter it in 
 Partlettsville. 
 
 Partlettsville, constricted, small and poor, 
 like a narrow soul in a lean body, had looked 
 out from its refuge under the hill for years 
 and seen the rest of the world go forward. 
 The railroad went to other towns, never to 
 Partlettsville. Other towns grew, new in- 
 dustries came to them, new houses were 
 built, new faces seen; but in Partlettsville, 
 always the same faces, the same houses, the 
 same ways. Other towns jeered at it, they 
 called it " the last place," the " jumping off 
 place." Partlettsville knew this well, and it 
 
 11
 
 12 John o' Partletts' 
 
 was very, very sore. Thus it happened that 
 it did not turn a cheerful face to the rest of 
 the world. But it made up for the poor opin- 
 ion of others by assuming a very self-satis- 
 fied and complacent expression of its own. 
 
 It was rather a mixed-up community any- 
 how. It seemed that several of the nations 
 of the earth had sent a representative to this 
 out-of-the-way little place, and, let it be 
 confessed in a whisper, not of their best. 
 
 There was the French shoemaker, sly and 
 greedy. There was Kitty Merryweather, a 
 cockney, born and bred, with a long tongue 
 and a heavy hand, when she had the chance 
 to use it, as little Jim had lately come to 
 know. There were the Dutch butcher and 
 his son, marvellously tricky and clever at 
 under-weighing. There was Louisa Myers, 
 the German proprietress of the thread and 
 needle store, with her florid face, the picture 
 of affability, but with the temper to be reck- 
 oned with. And there was Mr. Carruthers, 
 the parson, a tall, lean Scotchman, with black 
 beard, and intense smouldering eyes, who
 
 Partlettsville 13 
 
 drove and threatened his flock, preached 
 much about hell and damnation, and seemed 
 to take little account of heaven. 
 
 It does not belong to this story to surmise 
 how they all came here. Let it be supposed 
 they drifted here as did little Jim and his 
 Grandmammy. And there were others, the 
 established natives of the place, whose fore- 
 fathers had been the founders of Partletts- 
 ville. They had built it, these forefathers, 
 on the stoniest, barest bit of land in all the 
 country round, exposed to the bitter north 
 winds, built on the wrong side of the hill, the 
 great hill of Partletts', which seemed to ab- 
 sorb all the sunlight and cast its shadow over 
 the little town. It stood out rocky, unbeau- 
 tiful, uncompromising, its roads lined by a 
 row of willow trees, whipped and topped, 
 and bent down like old men. And, if there 
 is any truth in the belief that surroundings 
 have aught to do with the growing and ex- 
 panding of souls, then the very look of their 
 town might surely form some excuse for the 
 inhabitants of Partlettsville if any among
 
 14 John o' Partletts' 
 
 them lacked somewhat of a sense of beauty, 
 and of sympathy, and of a striving for things 
 beyond, inspired and higher. 
 
 It did not take little Jim's acute old Grand- 
 mammy long to perceive that the people 
 about her were not " ob de cheerfules' or 
 ob de mos' obligin* character." However, 
 she was a cheerful soul herself, this old plan- 
 tation darkey, and, like many of her kind, 
 had the great gift of philosophically taking 
 the world as she found it. 
 
 It came about that she and Jim settled 
 down in an empty room in a cottage occupied 
 by Kitty Merryweather and her two children. 
 She found work by the day, and paid her 
 rent. 
 
 Darkeys have a marvellous faculty for get- 
 ting the things that they want around them. 
 It is true that they want few things, and 
 know well what those things are. It was not 
 long before the funniest looking little second- 
 hand cook stove was set up and merrily burn- 
 ing, red hot, night and day ; a tin can graced
 
 Partlettsville 15 
 
 with a small sprig of mint, and a crooked 
 geranium, appeared in the window; a red 
 cotton cloth decorated the rickety table ; and 
 two very sky-blue vases, filled tight with 
 bunches of cat-tails, stood on the mantel. 
 The old boards of the floor, after a few scrub- 
 bings, came out white, and a piece of bright 
 red carpet was laid over them. There was a 
 bench to sit on, and a mattress to spread 
 down at night, with a yellow comforter ; and 
 a glass lamp, with a grand scarlet paper 
 shade. The cooking utensils hung upon the 
 wall against a piece of bright tin; and on 
 a shelf stood a wooden water bucket, and a 
 gourd. 
 
 Just how these things were got together, 
 with almost magic speed, could hardly be 
 told. They were collected by a sure hand, 
 the hand of one who knew perfectly and in- 
 stinctively what, in her eyes at least, was 
 pertaining to the beauty and comfort of 
 home. 
 
 And so this little room was home. Once 
 shut out the world directly outside, and it
 
 16 John o' Partletts' 
 
 would have passed for a room in almost 
 any plantation cabin hundreds of miles away 
 in the South. 
 
 Kitty Merryweather had no fancy for any 
 one who " came in on her ground," as she 
 expressed it; she went out and worked by 
 the day, this business was her ground, and 
 for years she had it to herself. There were 
 those who went into regular service, sleeping 
 and eating at their employer's, but to go 
 around to the various farmhouses and do a 
 great day's work of washing, ironing, and 
 perhaps house-cleaning thrown in, was Kit- 
 ty's particular vocation; and she loved it, 
 she loved the gossip and the change of scene, 
 and she justly prided herself upon the im- 
 mense amount she could accomplish in a day. 
 11 More a sight than them lazy gals h'out in 
 regular service can turn off in a week! " 
 And she was in great demand, and was well 
 paid. 
 
 Now, Jim's Grandmammy came in on this 
 very ground, and it was expected accordingly 
 that Kitty would abuse her up hill and down
 
 Partlettsville 17 
 
 dale. But quite the contrary she lived in 
 Kitty's house, and on amicable relations. 
 
 " She's just an old toddlin' thing," Kitty 
 said of her patronizingly to Louisa Myers, 
 when she ran into the latter 's store to buy 
 eorne stockings for her Willie and Maggie. 
 " You know 'ow it is with me, Mrs. Myers, 
 no pickin' and choosin', but just goin' every- 
 wheres, far and near, out to Furness' 
 farm, three miles away, h'an' h'up to Part- 
 letts' to work for ol' Witch Beevish! An* 
 who but me'd go that far, for a day's work? 
 Let alone of bein' h 'afraid of the Witch 'er- 
 self ! An' a proper, rare one she is, too! " 
 Kitty stopped to cackle her shrill laugh, her 
 eyes growing brighter, as they always did 
 when her tongue began wagging. "I've 
 some bits to tell you, Mrs. Myers, I 'ave, 
 when I chanct to get the time ! But now I've 
 got to 'ave two pairs of stockin's for Willie, 
 an' one pair for Maggie! Oh, it's 'eart 
 breakin' the way them children keeps me 
 goin'! Not as it's their fault, the best chil- 
 dren the sun ever shone on, Willie in partic-
 
 18 John o' Partletts' 
 
 ular. 'E sits up at night, readin' 'is cate- 
 chism, Mrs. Myers, so's to 'ave it letter per- 
 fect against Sunday; it's touchin' your 'eart 
 to see 'im! But the holes in the stockin's, 
 an' me no time to mend 'em, save at night 
 when I'm so tired my bones is crackin'; an' 
 kerosene so expensive to keep a light burnin' 
 late ! I borrowed a pint of oil only last night 
 from the old nigger h 'upstairs. Strange 
 'ousin' with niggers, eh, ain't it? But it's 
 no pick an' choose with two children to keep, 
 an' potatoes so dear, an' my Willie so fond 
 of butter that he won't eat nothin' without 
 butter spread a h'inch thick! Only last 
 night 'e stole 'arf a pound o' butter out of 
 my own safe an' put it away on the h 'inside 
 of 'im before you could wink your eyes; 
 an' me an' Maggie without a scrap to put 
 on our bread! She set up 'er squallin' but I 
 tol' 'er to shut 'er mouth, for boys comes 
 first, and before gals, in my country anyhow ! 
 But, as I was sayin', the old nigger upstairs, 
 she's old and toddlin' and can't go far to 
 work, an' it's a fiddlin' day's work she does
 
 Partlettsville 19 
 
 at best. An' she's a real obligin' one. Comes 
 down pat with the rent every Saturday night. 
 That's more than you can say for some white 
 folks, ain't it? Well it's not long those 
 niggers 'd stay 'longsides o' me. if she 
 didn't! " And Kitty again stopped long 
 enough to emit her cackle. " An' polite! 
 Say, but those Southern people trained the 
 niggers grand! It's a bow, an* a duck, an' 
 a ' Howdy, Missis! ' every time she meets 
 me in the hall! An' then, never meddlin' 
 your things, an' ready an' willin' to hand 
 out 'er own, just to oblige you in a tight 
 place! An', of course, it's a little lift, yo' 
 know, the rent comin' in on a Saturday 
 night! An' the little room was just standin' 
 there empty, you know, doin' nothin'! But 
 then with children to bring up there's no 
 pickin' an' choosin' an' people should 
 bear that in mind! " 
 
 Yes, it was that bow, and duck, and 
 " Howdy, Missis! " that had partly melted 
 Kitty's heart, not made of remarkably 
 penetrable stuff; and the obliging free-
 
 20 John o' Partletts' 
 
 handedness in a community where, Heaven 
 knows, free-handedness was not common, 
 had completed the process. Kitty was one 
 who loved beyond anything to get something 
 for nothing. A few potatoes given to her 
 were sweeter than any she could buy. Once, 
 it is related, she took a sick chicken that a 
 farmer gave her, in jest telling her it would 
 make a fine stew ; prepared it, ate it, and all 
 the family were made most ill, but she after- 
 wards remarked : "No matter, it tasted 
 good; an* it cost us no thin'! " She was one 
 who found it blessed to receive. 
 
 In the early morning she often went up to 
 the old darkey's door and asked the " loan " 
 of a bit of bread and a pinch of tea, receiving 
 these in generous portion, with a bit of bacon 
 thrown in; " Cause de chillun mus' have a 
 lettle grease, jes' fur to make de breakfas' 
 go down smoof," the old woman would say, 
 and, with true darkey prodigality, she 
 thought so little of these things that she gave 
 herself no concern as to their return. In 
 truth they were a gift, not a loan; and to
 
 Partlettsville 21 
 
 Kitty Merryweather such meals tasted sweet 
 indeed ! 
 
 There were others in Partlettsville who 
 found the old woman of an obliging sort, 
 in fact she was most polite, most obliging to 
 all. This was partly due to genuine good 
 nature, partly to natural shrewdness, for the 
 old darkey had a store of wisdom of her own. 
 
 None but little Jim realized how little she 
 found Partlettsville to her taste. He knew 
 it well by the constantly iterated wish for 
 Spring and open roads. 
 
 " Soon as de mil' wedder come, honey," 
 she would say in a whisper, rolling her eyes 
 at the closed door, " we'll get out from here, 
 jes' es quick es we kin! An' we'll take de 
 fus'roadtodeSouf! " 
 
 But when the mild weather at last came 
 to Partlettsville the old woman had already 
 taken a different road, and gone a longer 
 journey.
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 SOME MORE ABOUT JIM 
 
 AFTER Jim's Grandmammy died, and he 
 was left absolutely alone in the world, it was 
 some time before he could, even approxi- 
 mately, realize the breadth and depth of the 
 trouble which had befallen him. 
 
 After they took her away and buried her, 
 he remained here in the little room where 
 she had kept him and cared for him, lost in a 
 kind of dumb wonderment. She, the faithful, 
 was indeed gone ! It seemed impossible, and 
 occasionally he would say out loud in his 
 slow, deep voice: " Gamma, wher' es yo'J ' 
 But no answer came. 
 
 Now, Jim was eleven years old, but no one 
 would have thought it. He was a very little 
 darkey, " wizened," and dumb, and slow, 
 and very sad looking; his eyes had exactly 
 the expression which one sometimes sees in 
 
 22
 
 Some More About Jim 23 
 
 a little dog's when it sits off and gazes at 
 what is going on about it as if it does not 
 exactly understand. 
 
 " What's ailin' 'im? Can't he take it in 
 that his Grandma's dead? " Kitty asked her 
 Willie, but Willie shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 " He's jus' sittin' up there starin'," he 
 said. " Mayhap he's waitin' for to see her 
 ghost! " he added with a snicker. 
 
 At first there was much talk of sending 
 Jim to an orphan asylum, but that was far 
 away. Then there was talk of writing down 
 South, but Jim couldn't rightly remember 
 Marse Desverney's address. And gradually 
 the thing drifted over. It came about that, 
 as he was there in her house, and she had 
 children of her own to bring up, he fell into 
 the charge of Kitty Merryweather. Mr. 
 Carruthers would have an overseeing eye, 
 and make sure that he was supplied with 
 clothes; and Kitty declared that the child 
 could do a scrap of work now and then for 
 the bit he would eat. 
 
 " An' she'll be gittin' the worth of his
 
 24 John o' Partletts' 
 
 food out of him! " was the general opin- 
 ion. 
 
 Kitty was hopeful on this point, too. But 
 alas for best laid schemes! Little Jim 
 proved to be no worker. In the old days, on 
 the old plantation, he had always been a puny 
 mite, and, save to run on errands, naught had 
 been expected of him. Now, in the midst of 
 his tribulation, he seemed not so much un- 
 willing to work as unable to keep his mind 
 upon it. 
 
 11 'E 's been sp 'ilt ! ' ' Kitty began explain- 
 ing around. * ' I never see such a one ! 'E 's 
 no idea of doin' as he's told, an' 'e can't 
 remember nothin'I " 
 
 " An' that's a great way for her to be 
 talkin'!" commented Louisa Myers in her 
 bland voice, with a winking of her big eyes, 
 " when everybody knows there's not a cree- 
 tur she'd give this much to, without gettin' 
 a very proper equivalent! Not," she added, 
 " that I'm sayin' anything." For, like 
 every one else, she had a dread of Kitty's 
 tongue.
 
 Some More About Jim 25 
 
 But Kitty heard, and very soon she was in 
 Louisa's store. She bought a paper of nee- 
 dles, and on her way out paused as if just 
 remembering : 
 
 " Oh, by the by, Mis' Myers, I chance' to 
 hear you think that little black one I've got 
 quartered at my 'ouse is earnin' his wittles; 
 if you want to feed him for a day or two, 
 and 'ave his services for your pains, you're 
 welcome, so far as I'm concerned! " 
 
 Louisa Myers was astonished, and a bit 
 taken aback. 
 
 " Well," she said, in her slow way, color- 
 ing a little, "it's true I've got a bit of gar- 
 dening to do, the Spring coming on so fast. ' ' 
 
 " I'll send him over to-morrow mornin','' 
 spoke up Kitty, as prompt as you please, 
 "an' you'd best 'ouse him for a few days, 
 an' git your job done! " 
 
 That night she had the great joke to tell 
 Maggie and Willie. 
 
 "An' she'll find him out! She'll find him 
 out ! ' ' she crowed. ' ' Oh, the grand treas- 
 ure, let her 'ave him! "
 
 26 John o' Partletts' 
 
 The next morning, accordingly, little Jim 
 appeared at Louisa's. 
 
 The ' l bit of gardening ' ' proved to be the 
 rather tough job of dislodging some big 
 stones along the fence line and setting them 
 at regular intervals in a newly made garden 
 bed, a good bit of work for a grown-up. 
 
 Little Jim came to this task with his very 
 slight supply of strength, his usual absent- 
 mindedness, and a great deal of scariness; 
 when it is added that he had for his break- 
 fast a small piece of hard bread and a cup 
 of stale tea, it will hardly be wondered at if 
 the work did not proceed famously. 
 
 Louisa told him with patronizing bland- 
 ness that she would leave him alone with it 
 and not come back until twelve o'clock, for 
 she hoped to be surprised at how much he 
 would accomplish. 
 
 Little Jim, left alone in a dark shadowy 
 corner of the garden, clawed and scratched 
 away at the stones as effectively as he might. 
 They were round, covered with mould and 
 damp, and when he did get one up it would
 
 Some More About Jim 27 
 
 slip out of his hands and fall on his toes; 
 and then, when he picked it up again, and 
 hugging it to him, endeavored to walk, it 
 slipped, slipped, slowly, surely, and finally 
 struck the ground and bounded away. This 
 happened thrice. The third time a sly, low 
 laugh sounded from the hedge just at his 
 elbow ; he turned, and saw a person he knew 
 well. 
 
 Willie Merryweather stood there, his 
 hands on his hips, his cap pushed well back 
 on his shock of red hair, nodding his head, 
 and speaking encouragingly : * ' Try it again I 
 Try it again ! ' ' 
 
 Jim, perforce, tried again. But if he was 
 unable to do well when he believed himself 
 to be alone, he did far worse before this self- 
 invited audience. His hands began to trem- 
 ble, his eyes rolled helplessly, and his lips 
 quivered too. 
 
 1 ' Fine, Mr. Nigger, fine ! Pick it up with 
 your ears ! Carry it on the tip of your toes ! 
 What yo' tryin' to do? Play nine-pins f " 
 
 Jim grabbed a stone and staggered away
 
 28 John o' Partletts' 
 
 with it in desperation, to be away from the 
 taunting voice. He got it at length to the 
 other end of the garden, rolled it into place, 
 and stood looking at it a long while, in the 
 hope that Willie Merryweather might go 
 away. Unfortunately, just at this time, Lou- 
 isa Myers, looking from an upper window, 
 saw him. 
 
 " Well! if he ain't jes' starinM Moonin', 
 most likely! " And she watched him while 
 five, ten, fifteen precious minutes went by. 
 
 When Jim finally returned to his cor- 
 ner, Willie Merryweather had disappeared. 
 Greatly relieved, he again began his strug- 
 gles with the big, slippery stones. Selecting 
 one, he went round and round it, to loosen 
 it from its bed. Suddenly he stopped and 
 clapped his hand to his head. Something 
 small, sharp and stinging had struck him! 
 He looked all about. No one was in sight, 
 but he had scarcely bent to his task again 
 before he felt the same sharp sting, this time 
 on his neck. 
 
 4 ' Now who dar ! " he cried out in his
 
 Some More About Jim 29 
 
 deep little voice ; and, straightening himself, 
 rolled his eyes round in genuine affright. 
 Then, lifting his head to look aloft, he sud- 
 denly received a shower of sharp little mis- 
 siles thrown straight in his face, and : ' ' Hi, 
 dar! " came Willie Merryweather's voice, in 
 mocking mimicry, from the branches of the 
 big tree above. 
 
 The little darkey drew back. 
 
 " Oh, Marse Willie! Marse Willie! " he 
 whimpered, covering his face with his claw- 
 like, dirty hands. 
 
 * ' Oh, Marse Willie ! Marse Willie ! ' ' mim- 
 icked the voice in the tree-top. 
 
 " Don' do me so, Marse Willie! " 
 
 11 Don' do me so, Marse Willie! " mim- 
 icked the voice. 
 
 " I got to do my work, Marse Willie! " 
 pleaded the small voice on the ground. 
 
 " I got to do my work! " came the taunt- 
 ing voice from the tree-top. 
 
 This was an enemy impervious to pleas! 
 Jim stood for some time hesitating between 
 fear of him and fear of displeasing the big,
 
 30 John o' Partletts' 
 
 stranger woman, who had set him at this 
 task. Finally he ventured from the shelter 
 of the hedge, and again began his operations. 
 Willie encouraged by voice and stone throw- 
 ing, and Jim watched him, and moved cau- 
 tiously, lest, in an unguarded movement, he 
 should leap down upon his back. 
 
 When the morning was well spent, Willie 
 scrambled down from his perch. He grinned 
 around him affably, stood about for a few 
 minutes, shying stones at an old fence post, 
 just to prove his dexterity and fondness for 
 this pastime, then sauntered off, hands in 
 pockets, and an expression on his pale and 
 freckled countenance that seemed to denote 
 to the world a pleasing and comfortable self- 
 satisfaction. 
 
 Yes, Willie had found an occupation en- 
 tirely to his taste; that of teasing Mr. Nig- 
 ger. It was amusing, easy, and beyond all 
 
 safe ! His adversary or rather, victim 
 
 was too undersized to dream of striking 
 back, and, moreover, he never told tales. 
 For Jim had not only been taught from birth,
 
 Some More About Jim 31 
 
 but lie had something within him which in- 
 stinctively comprehended the truth of the 
 darkey saying : " There ain 't no luck in 
 tellin' on white chillun, nohow 1 "
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 " GIVE A DOG A BAD NAME " 
 
 WHEN Louisa Myers comprehended that 
 during the whole course of the morning Jim 
 had moved exactly three stones and set them 
 in place, she was " dumb-foundered." No 
 other word could express her feelings; 
 she stood " dumb-foundered." 
 
 She swallowed a few times and asked: 
 
 " What you been doing? " 
 
 11 I dun tote free stones, Missis," replied 
 Jim, He did not look at her, because he was 
 afraid of her big, blue eyes. He looked at 
 the result of his labors, and felt very forlorn. 
 
 " Three stones! " repeated Louisa. But 
 she took him into the house and gave him 
 dinner consisting of cold potatoes and a dish 
 of sauer-kraut. Priding herself upon acting 
 almost too generously toward a worker who 
 
 32
 
 " Give a Dog a Bad Name " 33 
 
 had accomplished so very little, Louisa would 
 have been amazed indeed could she have sus- 
 pected how extremely unpalatable this food 
 appeared to the child. 
 
 Darkeys are something like cats ; they will 
 not eat simply for sustenance, if they cannot 
 get what they like they prefer to eat nothing 
 at all. And they like what they have been 
 accustomed to. 
 
 Born and bred in a land flowing with fried 
 chicken, fresh fish, sweet yams, corn pone, 
 and oranges, Jim found nothing eatable in 
 the heavy, tasteless " duff " with which 
 Kitty Merry weather " filled up " her Willie 
 and Maggie. Sickly from birth, he had al- 
 ways eaten little even when food to his taste 
 was provided; and now, since his Grand- 
 mammy's death, he had come to have a kind 
 of dread of the " strange food " which was 
 given him. Louisa's sauer-kraut wore an 
 unfamiliar appearance. He took a hasty 
 taste, and frankly left it alone. 
 
 "* 4 
 
 Louisa had certainly begrudged him the 
 delicacy when she set it before him, but that
 
 34 John o' Partletts' 
 
 did not prevent her from being exceedingly 
 annoyed to see him leave it. 
 
 " What's the matter! " she asked sharply. 
 " Ain't it to your taste? " 
 
 " I ain't hungry," said little Jim, and told 
 the exact truth; for seated here in Louisa's 
 small kitchen, under her big, compelling, ob- 
 servant eyes, he felt too lonely, frightened 
 and forlorn to be hungry. 
 
 " Well, I guess there's a reason for that! " 
 said Louisa, sharply, taking the plate away. 
 " People that do their work is usually able 
 to eat their victuals ! ' ' 
 
 For the afternoon she gave him the lighter 
 task of pulling weeds out of her vegetable 
 beds. 
 
 It was warm over in the vegetable garden. 
 The air smelt of Spring, and the sky was 
 blue. Some rabbits had a burrow under an 
 old shed near by. They began coming out, 
 now an old grey bunny, now a small, white 
 one, then another grey, until a whole family 
 were hobbling about, sitting up to cock their 
 ears and listen, and rubbing their heads
 
 " Give a Dog a Bad Name " 35 
 
 against the clumps of coarse grass, fast turn- 
 ing a vivid green. 
 
 Jim sat back on his heels, motionless. All 
 cottontails are alike. He had seen the 
 brother of that big bunny far down South. 
 The sight was like a sight of home, and Jim 
 began to see one of his visions ; he began to 
 see the orange grove, and the big, white 
 house; he began to hear the darkeys sing- 
 ing: 
 
 "OF Mis' is caliin'! 
 01' Mis' is caliin'! 
 Ol' Mis' is caliin' me! " 
 
 Then everything faded. He saw his Grand- 
 mammy in the little cabin kitchen, making 
 meat soup, thickened with okra, flavored with 
 fresh, green peppers, such as darkeys love. 
 She was laughing, and wiping her hands on 
 her apron, her broad face shining, her big, 
 brass ear-rings twinkling. Then everything 
 was still in the vegetable garden, save for 
 the soft rustle of the rabbits warily hopping 
 about in the grass. Jim's waking vision had 
 passed into a dream.
 
 36 John o' Partletts' 
 
 It was late in the afternoon when Louisa 
 Myers broke the stillness; in a voice muffled 
 by inward agitation she exclaimed : 
 
 " Well, what is the meaning of it! " 
 
 She was looking down on Jim's face up- 
 turned in the sunlight, peaceful, serene 
 And it was just this expression of serenity 
 which was more than mortal flesh could en- 
 dure! Louisa had a temper which, not only 
 did others fear, she feared it herself. That 
 was why, when she shook Jim's arm, she said 
 to him with emphatic earnestness : 
 
 " Now, look here, don't you make me mad, 
 don 't you make me mad, I warn you ! ' ' 
 
 And Jim, looking into her broad, accusing 
 face, the flesh of which slightly quivered with 
 the effort at self-control, had no wish to. He 
 scrambled to his feet, but, as usual, he had 
 not a word to say, and stood, slightly shuf- 
 fling in the dirt, the picture of convicted guilt. 
 
 " Come along with me! " she said sternly, 
 and Jim, with head lowered, followed. 
 
 By the kitchen steps stood a basket of 
 freshly washed clothes.
 
 " Give a Dog a Bad Name " 37 
 
 " Here, go into the kitchen and wash your 
 hands, and then hang these things out on the 
 line. Let me see if there's something you 
 can do! " 
 
 Louisa helped him carry the basket to an 
 open space, between a lilac hedge that bor- 
 dered on the road and her cottage ; then she 
 left him, too wroth to look or speak further, 
 and Jim began to take the things from the 
 basket; they were small pieces, towels, etc., 
 a job quite within his powers, and this 
 time he did not pause until it was complete. 
 
 " Have you done? " asked Louisa, slightly 
 relenting from her extreme sternness when 
 he came into the kitchen sooner than she ex- 
 pected. 
 
 " Yes, Missis ! " said Jim, and he carefully 
 set down the empty basket. 
 
 The soft Spring gloaming was falling out- 
 side; through the open door a glimpse of 
 dark violet sky could be seen, in which, here 
 and there, an illusive star twinkled. The air 
 smelt sweetly of damp earth and budding 
 verdure.
 
 38 John o' Partletts' 
 
 Louisa walked slowly the length of the. 
 kitchen, reached the window, looked through 
 it, and then she screamed; she screamed 
 twice, and stamped her foot on the floor. 
 
 1 ' You little scamp ! ' ' she cried out, ' ' you 
 careless, dirty, idle, little scamp ! ' ' 
 
 At the same instant there came a drum- 
 ming on the front door of the house. 
 
 " Mis' Myers!" called Willie Merry- 
 weather's voice, " your clothes line is all 
 tumbled down, an' the clothes in the dirt! 
 I thought I'd tell yo', 'cause the dogs '11 be 
 tromplin' 'em! " 
 
 ' ' As if I can 't see with my own eyes ! ' ' 
 yelled Louisa. And, rushing upon Jim, she 
 seized him as he stood, with his back to her, 
 and taking him by the shoulders, shook him 
 until his teeth rattled. Then she marched 
 him across the room, still holding him by the 
 shoulders and shaking: 
 
 " Now, you dirty, low, careless little 
 sloven ! Get out of my house I'll have you 
 no more around! You nigger, you! You 
 nigger, you! "
 
 " Give a Dog a Bad Name " 39 
 
 And at each epithet she planted her knee 
 vigorously in Jim's hinder parts. 
 
 Jim, utterly bewildered, cried out: 
 
 ''Please, m'am, I ain't done nothin'! 
 Please, m'am! " 
 
 The performance did not cause any great 
 physical pain to little Jim, but it did cause 
 him the most acute, mental anguish and ter- 
 ror. For Louisa's temper was unbound, and 
 her face expressed a fury hardly to be put 
 into words. She pushed Jim out of the 
 house, slammed, locked and bolted the door, 
 as if he were a ruffian who would rush back 
 upon her. 
 
 When she had tranquillized herself suffi- 
 ciently to take practical action, she grasped 
 her basket and rushed out to the clothes line. 
 There lay her day's wash in the soft, damp 
 dirt. It was an embittering sight! She 
 stooped to pick up the end of the line, which 
 had been attached to a pole near the lilac 
 hedge, and suddenly straightened herself. 
 The end of the line was not broken; it had 
 been cut, cleanly cut with a knife I
 
 40 John o' Partletts' 
 
 Louisa began to run up and down her little 
 yard, she began to put her hands to her head 
 like one possessed. 
 
 " Oh! " she cried brokenly. " So that's 
 the kind you are! Ach! Gott in Himmel! 
 Ach, Gott! Not an accident, but spite, pure 
 spite! An' I did no thin' to him, only give 
 him his victuals, an' treated him decently! 
 Oh, mein Gott! And his heart is like his 
 body, black ! Ach, my clothes line, cut down 
 mit ein knife! My clothes in der dirt! Oh, 
 der wickedness! der black-heartedness ! " 
 
 "Word going round that " Mis' Myers was 
 in one of her tantrums," soon an audience 
 was peeping through the lilac hedge. But 
 Louisa was blind and deaf. She continued 
 to run up and down her little yard, her large 
 face white, and she talked to herself in the 
 broken German-English which she always 
 fell into when excited. 
 
 Occasionally she would run to the gate, 
 throw it open, and shake a threatening fist 
 down the road: 
 
 " Ach! If I had you now! If I had you
 
 " Give a Dog a Bad Name " 41 
 
 now! " It was fortunate, indeed, for little 
 Jim that she did not have him. 
 
 Altogether, though that was a memorable 
 day for Louisa Myers, it was a still more 
 memorable one for little Jim, because on that 
 day a bad reputation was founded for him, 
 and we all know that is no light encumbrance. 
 
 It was said that when Kitty Merryweather 
 heard all about it she simply sat down and 
 laughed until the tears ran down her face. 
 Whether her Willie informed her of his share 
 in it is not known; if he did she certainly 
 would not have chided him severely for such 
 an excellent joke. 
 
 " Well! " she remarked, " as long as he's 
 had such a fine success with Mis' Myers, I'll 
 be sendin' him round the neighborhood an' 
 see what the others '11 make of 'im. They've 
 been waggin' their tongues, now mayhaps 
 they'll find I've not got such a grand treas- 
 ure! " 
 
 And so it came about that little Jim began 
 a very wretched existence of going about to 
 house and farm to do a day's work. Had he
 
 42 John o' Partletts' 
 
 been a jolly little darkey, he might have liked 
 it, but he was sad-faced and scary; if any 
 one looked at him hard while he was working 
 he became confused. At the best, he was 
 dreamy and absent-minded, spilt things, for- 
 got what he was told, his silence was taken 
 for obstinacy, his downcast looks for sour- 
 ness. But what really fastened evil renown 
 upon him was that outrageous things hap- 
 pened when people 's backs were turned, 
 things on a par with the cutting down of 
 Louisa's clothes line. " The spite he's got 
 in him! " was said; "an' the darin'ness! " 
 Many a sly slap did little Jim get, many 
 an uneatable meal. 
 
 In this way the summer wore on. 
 
 Kitty Merryweather had long ago stripped 
 Jim's little room of its belongings; even the 
 crooked geranium, being in bloom, was taken 
 down-stairs to decorate Kitty's kitchen; 
 nothing remained except the mattress, from 
 which the yellow comforter, once its pride, 
 was removed.
 
 " Give a Dog a Bad Name " 43 
 
 Fortunately the weather was warm, the 
 child suffered no great discomfort, and this 
 world is so arranged that one is seldom too 
 forlorn to find consolation somewhere. 
 
 Jim found his in the blue sky. Often, 
 when he had leisure, and sometimes, it must 
 be confessed, when he should have been work- 
 ing, he would just gaze and gaze into that 
 blue sky. .What he thought it would be im- 
 possible to say. At home, on the old planta- 
 tion, it had been said of Jim that " he didn't 
 quite have all." Perhaps that was true. 
 Perhaps it was true, too, that he had some- 
 thing just a little different from that which 
 is usually dominated " all; " the faintest 
 and tiniest touch of that something which 
 perceives beauty where those who have 
 " all " are oftentimes too busy and troubled 
 about other things to perceive it in the least. 
 Not that that something had any business in 
 a little nigger too ignorant to write his own 
 name and only three generations removed 
 from the jungle. It hadn't. It made him 
 dreamy, and moony, and stupid, and clumsy ;
 
 44 John o' Partletts' 
 
 and yet it did this for him, it gave him 
 moments of peace and comfort; it gave a 
 charm to the sky, and to the fleecy clouds, 
 and to the soft summer light and sheen on 
 fields and hedges. The moment that Jim 
 looked at these things, and felt himself alone 
 with them, the alien world around him faded, 
 he felt far away ; they exerted a magic influ- 
 ence ; home appeared, and he seemed to hear 
 familiar voices singing: 
 
 " Who dat a-callin' ? 
 Who dat a-callin' ? 
 Who dat a-callin' me ? " 
 
 There was one place in particular where 
 his eyes continually wandered; that was up 
 to the great hill of Partletts ', up to that spot 
 on the very summit where the dark firs raised 
 their pointed tops straight into the very mid- 
 dle of the sky. There the sky seemed bluest, 
 the sunshine brightest, there the birds cir- 
 cled, circled, far away from Partlettsville, 
 its bareness and ugliness. 
 
 One day Kitty Merryweather came upon 
 him as he had his eyes fixed upon the hill.
 
 " Give a Dog a Bad Name " 45 
 
 "I'll tell you what's up there! " she said. 
 " You go up the side of the hill, an' yo' come 
 on old shoemaker Simon's cottage. He lives 
 up there with his beast, the fiercest ever you 
 see, a dog what scowls at you like this ; 
 an ' would finish a critter like you in a gobble ! 
 An' you know what's up there in a little house 
 just t'other side o' the brow o' the hill? An 
 old witch, I go up there an' work for her, 
 just to hear her talk, an' to tell folks about 
 her. Her name's Beevish Witch Beevish, 
 we calls her. But they do say that when she 
 lived out in the big world she had a fine house 
 somewheres, an' her carridge, an' her 'orses, 
 an' her servants, but somethin' went 
 wrong with her folks; they turned on her, 
 or she on them, an* by some hook or crook 
 they got her money from her. Anyhow, she 
 couldn't stand bein' with her own kind no 
 more, an' she's come down in the world some- 
 thin' terrible! Yo' see the little path past 
 the shoemaker's, steep as your hand, ain't 
 it? That's the way I take, an' when I come 
 to that first pine tree, I dive right down into
 
 46 John o' Partletts' 
 
 the hollow, an' there's her 'ouse! I can see 
 the smoke from her chimney this minute, be- 
 tween the big pine an' the little one. She's 
 got a garden there well, witches can make 
 things grow! There's somethin' strange 
 about her, sure! " cackled Kitty. " An' you 
 look sharp an' draw me some water now, or 
 some fine day I'll be fetchin' you up there, 
 an' she'll bewitch yo' sure! Turn yo' into 
 a tree, most like, or a frog! " 
 
 After that, whenever Jim was lazy, or did 
 his work badly, or whenever she found him 
 gazing at the hill, she would cry out : 
 
 " Hi, hi, now, the old witch '11 git yo'! 
 Witch Beevish'll be bewitchin' you sure! "
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 " AND HANG HIM " 
 
 IN the meantime the Summer wore on, the 
 days were growing a bit shorter, the morn- 
 ings cooler. In the parsonage garden the 
 only garden in Partlettsville that could boast 
 a few fine grapevines the grapes had ri- 
 pened ; they were very sound and large this 
 year, and they were being picked. Ordina- 
 rily this task was undertaken by Mrs. Car- 
 ruthers and the old Scotch servant, Elsa; 
 but this year Elsa's rheumatism was very 
 bad, and frail little Mrs. Carruthers was not 
 well. The grape picking had been allotted to 
 Jim. 
 
 And now, this bright, mild September 
 morning, a terrible thing had happened! A 
 big bushel basket of the finest of the grapes 
 
 had been upset, the grapes thrown out in the 
 
 47
 
 48 John o' Partletts' 
 
 gravelled garden path, and not only mashed, 
 but, as Mr. Carruthers affirmed, deliberately 
 trampled upon ! It was past understanding, 
 and Jim, who had been left alone at his work, 
 could give no accounting. What made mat- 
 ters worse was that, early in the Summer, 
 when he was picking the gooseberries, the 
 same thing had happened; and tales of like 
 " accidents " were frequently reported 
 through the neighborhood. 
 
 Now, Jim stood miserably shuffling his feet 
 in the dirt, rolling his eyes, his black expres- 
 sionless little face impossible to read, while 
 Mr. Carruthers stood accusingly before him. 
 Old Elsa leaned in the kitchen door, wiping 
 a plate as she stood, for her hands were never 
 idle; Mrs. Carruthers, pale and anxious- 
 eyed, beside her, and the eight Carruthers 
 children crowding against the window-pane, 
 from twelve year old Harry, pale and sensi- 
 tive like his mother, to yellow-haired, merry 
 little Margy, the baby of the family, who had 
 not been in this world long enough to com- 
 prehend that everything should come under
 
 " And Hang Him" 49 
 
 the head of duty and discipline, and who still 
 shook her golden curls, and roguishly and 
 defiantly winked her blue eyes in the face, 
 as Elsa would say, " of the Maister hisself ! " 
 
 The " Maister " stood now very stiff- 
 backed and rigid, his tall, lean figure drawn 
 up commandingly, and every minute Jim 
 grew more frightened and unable to find a 
 word for himself. 
 
 11 I want to understand," came the minis- 
 ter's keen, clear voice, " why you upset that 
 basket. Come, make a clean breast of itl " 
 
 "I I never done it, sah ! ' * stammered 
 Jim at last. 
 
 Mr. Carruthers started. 
 
 * ' Now, now ! " he exclaimed warningly, 
 raising his long forefinger, " that's what you 
 told me when you upset the gooseberries ! I 
 passed it over then, but I'll not pass over a 
 second lie. Do an ill deed and confess it; 
 or, do an ill deed and stick to a denial of it, 
 there's the difference between a person 
 who is not all bad and one who is! There's 
 some hope for the former ! There 's none for
 
 50 John o' Partletts' 
 
 the latter! " he finished decidedly, with a 
 straightening of his lips. 
 
 It was far beyond Jim, at this moment, to 
 follow the sense of Mr. Carruthers' words, 
 but he felt the stern blue eyes upon him, he 
 knew that he must speak, and, after a death- 
 like silence, he brought out the exact truth. 
 
 " I I ain't got nothin' to say, sah!" 
 Then, as the ominous silence warned him 
 that this would not do, he shuffled his feet in 
 dumb confusion. 
 
 1 ' Come, out with it ! ' ' exclaimed the keen 
 voice again. " Remember, you must say 
 something! Speak the truth! " 
 
 Jim gave a hasty, scared glance about Mm, 
 and thus hard-pressed, muttered: 
 
 "I I ain't seen nobody, sah, but I'se 
 I'se a feelin' dat somebody done crope up on 
 me, an' upset dat basket " he stopped, 
 choked, and was again dumb. 
 
 1 ' Impossible ! ' ' the clear voice came em- 
 phatically, and this time with passion in it. 
 "Who in the world ? But it is utterly 
 useless to parley further ! Come with me ! ' '
 
 " And Hang Him" 51 
 
 A firm hand was laid on Jim's shoulder. 
 It guided him into the house, and into the 
 minister's study. As the door closed a timid 
 voice was heard to whisper something; Mr. 
 Carruthers opened it again and looked into 
 the pleading face of his wife. He stepped out 
 into the hall, shutting the door behind him. 
 
 Mrs. Carruthers paused. It was no light 
 matter to interfere with her husband in the 
 discharge of his duty, but, after a moment, 
 she laid her hand on his arm. 
 
 " Henry, I know that whatever you do is 
 right," she whispered, voicing a sentiment 
 that reigned supreme in this household. 
 " But I must beg you to remember that it 
 is a delicate child; at least " she hesitated, 
 " he appears so to me; and I pity him I " 
 
 " I pity him, too," replied her husband in 
 his gravest tones, " because he has no knowl- 
 edge of truth, of rectitude, and I wish to help 
 him. You know well that he has done wrong, 
 not only to us but to others, and on such 
 occasions he always lies! I have forbidden 
 anyone in this town to lay a hand on him,
 
 52 John o' Partletts' 
 
 for I will not have a child ill-treated here. 
 But if I do not allow others to punish him, 
 then I must punish him myself as an act of 
 simple justice. You must not make yourself 
 unhappy, my dear," he added kindly, but in 
 a tone that admitted of no argument. " It 
 is," he added, his face and figure becoming 
 slightly more rigid, " an unpleasant duty, 
 a very painful one, but I shall perform it ! " 
 Then little Mrs. Carruthers knew that it 
 was useless to speak further. From a pain- 
 ful duty her husband never flinched, whether 
 it was such a one as now lay before him, 
 or whether it was to walk miles through the 
 darkest of nights and heavy snows to some 
 far-off parishioner, who, " perchance might 
 need him." Henry Carruthers in his criti- 
 cisms and judgments did not spare others, 
 but then, on the other hand, he never spared 
 himself. He laid down the straightest, strict- 
 est, sternest line of conduct, and he adhered 
 to it, firm-lipped and undeviating. If others 
 deviated, they were, in his opinion, marked 
 men, to be exhorted, driven, frightened some-
 
 " And Hang Him" 53 
 
 how back into the path. He was a minister, 
 a religionist, of the old school, and, in those 
 days, this was a serious, earnest, terrible 
 business, as little Mrs. Carruthers had 
 come to know well. 
 
 She turned away now, and, going to her 
 own room, softly closed the door and sat 
 down before a picture of the Sistine Ma- 
 donna which hung upon her wall there. It 
 was the only beautiful thing she owned, and 
 she had brought it, long ago, from her own 
 home. It consoled her to look into the noble, 
 serene face, and she often came and sat so 
 when overburdened or discouraged, or, 
 when one of her own children was ordered 
 into the study, trying not to listen, and to 
 quiet the beating of her heart. 
 
 But to-day it seemed even worse than when 
 it was one of her own, for they, being her 
 own, she could comfort ; sooner or later, she 
 could console, as she so well knew how to 
 console ! But this was a little outcast, 
 there was not a tender hand or voice in the 
 world to cheer or sympathize !
 
 54 
 
 And the eyes of the frail woman, whose 
 own life was overburdened with cares and 
 exactions, filled with tears of warm sympa- 
 thy for the little darkey whom all Partletts- 
 ville had come to regard as a * * bad un, ' ' and 
 humorously called " little Mr. Nigger." 
 
 When that dreadful fifteen minutes in the 
 minister's study was over, and Mr. Carru- 
 thers told Jim to put on his coat again, and 
 hung up a certain little strap in its accus- 
 tomed place behind his desk, Mrs. Carruthers, 
 up-stairs, heard the study door open, and 
 she softly glided down and paused in a curve 
 of the staircase. "When Jim passed out of 
 the front door to face once more an un- 
 friendly little world, she followed, with her 
 quick, light step. But a step as quick as her 
 own caused her to start, and her husband's 
 hand was laid detainingly on her arm. 
 11 Nay, nay, now, my lass, you must na' be 
 undoin' my work! " he said in a low tone. 
 She was the only creature in the world before 
 whom he ever relaxed his stern face, and 
 spoke tenderly; when he did, he always fell
 
 " And Hang Him" 55 
 
 into his loved Scotch, it was dear to his 
 heart, and, besides, it helped him to express 
 the softer feeling. 
 
 She looked now into his face; in spite of 
 the kindness of his tone, his expression of 
 conviction and determination was immov- 
 able. She sighed, and slightly turned. But 
 he saw something in her face too, and he said 
 with unwonted tenderness : 
 
 11 Nay, lass, don't grieve; leave such 
 troubles to me and go and rest yourself, if 
 only for a wee while; it's plain to my eye 
 that you need it, and, you know, it's care you 
 should be taking of yourself just now ! ' ' 
 
 She went obediently to her room, and lay 
 down upon her bed ; but rest she could not ; 
 her heart was oppressed, and it beat heavily. 
 She raised her eyes and looked at the benign 
 face in the picture, but it did not comfort. 
 
 At length she whispered : * * Lord, there 
 is so much in this world that we can- 
 not understand! I pray Thee, out of Thy 
 deep, boundless mercy, to help any who may 
 be friendless, forlorn, or sorrowful! " She
 
 56 John o' Partletts' 
 
 hesitated, then added: " And I pray Thee 
 to forgive us all our mistakes! Out of Thy 
 mercy, Lord! Amen." 
 
 Then, in her woman's weakness, having 
 done what she could, uttered a sincere 
 prayer, she was consoled, and turned her 
 head upon her pillow and slept.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 JIM GOBS TO PARTLETTS* 
 
 IN Partlettsville it was very soon known 
 what a dreadful disgrace had happened to 
 Jim. 
 
 And Jim, himself, felt it so deeply that, 
 instead of going back to Kitty Merryweath- 
 er's, he went off by himself to a quiet spot 
 near the stream that flowed along the out- 
 skirts of the town, and throwing himself 
 down in the long grass, covered his eyes with 
 his arm. 
 
 Never in his life had he been so frightened 
 and shaken. Often he had been slapped and 
 pinched by the inhabitants of Partlettsville; 
 often, too, in the old days, he had been cuffed 
 by his father, and even by his Grandmammy, 
 most patient of souls! But this terrible 
 thing, this chastisement in form by the tall, 
 white gentleman with the stern lips and grave 
 67
 
 58 John o' Partletts' 
 
 eyes, in his own study, or, as Jim put it to 
 himself " in de white folks' own pa 'lor! " 
 had something in it ominous and soul-sub- 
 duing. 
 
 He lay in the long grass and shivered. He 
 still seemed to see the minister's face, its 
 natural pallor accentuated by his black, close 
 trimmed beard, and dark, smouldering eyes. 
 He looked just as Jim had seen him in the 
 pulpit, preaching, in his Grandmammy's time. 
 Kitty Merryweather, too, sometimes took 
 him to church, and when Mr. Carruthera 
 stood up, authoritative, in his black garb, he 
 had always seemed to Jim the very repre- 
 sentative of all the high powers, spiritual and 
 temporal. 
 
 Jim had not cried at all for the pain of his 
 punishment; he had been far too terrified 
 and overawed to utter a sound. He did not 
 cry now, he only lay in the long grass and 
 whimpered slightly, and he thought he could 
 never face the unfriendly little world abcut 
 him again. 
 
 But there was one person who seldom for-
 
 Jim Goes to Partletts' 59 
 
 got about Jim, partly for reasons of his own, 
 partly because he had been given a general 
 order to " keep a eye on him! " And this 
 he fulfilled so well that it may be said not for 
 a whole hour of any day did he entirely lose 
 track of him. 
 
 Willie Merryweather knew now where Jim 
 was, and informing some of his choice com- 
 panions that : ' ' Happen he knew where Mr. 
 Nigger was restin' after his last trick! " 
 he set off, accompanied by his sister Maggie 
 and three or four others of the promising 
 youths of Partlettsville. 
 
 Suddenly Jim, lying in the grass, heard a 
 snicker so near that he started up, and gave 
 out his usual alarmed cry of " Who dar? " 
 
 The grasses rustled and were still again; 
 and then faces seemed to bob up all about 
 him, expressive of various degrees of laugh- 
 ter or maliciousness. 
 
 Willie Merryweather, suddenly inspired, 
 nudged the companion next him, and whis- 
 pered : 
 
 " Here, offer 'im these fine pieces of
 
 60 John o' Partletts' 
 
 candy! Happen he's hungry, since he ain't 
 come home to eat no dinner. Offer 'em per- 
 lite! "he added. 
 
 The boy accordingly held out to Jim, on 
 the palm of his hand, some tiny red glazed- 
 looking bits. 
 
 1 ' Here, have a taste ! " he said in a kindly 
 voice. 
 
 A more astute person than Jim might have 
 mistrusted. But Jim looked up; the bits 
 were coral red, they looked pretty in the out- 
 stretched hand, and the hand was not Willie 
 Merryweather 's. Jim took the bright things, 
 put them into his mouth, and chewed. The 
 next instant the tears were running down his 
 face; he was gasping and spluttering, while 
 a cackling of delight rose from the grass on 
 all sides, and Willie Merryweather was so 
 overcome by the intoxicating funniness of it 
 that he rolled over and over in the soft 
 grasses, catching, now at them, now at his 
 head, and crying out: 
 
 " Oh my eye ! Oh, look at him ! 
 Oh my eyel "
 
 Jim Goes to Partletts' 61 
 
 And Jim kept gasping and spluttering, 
 with his face comically twisted on one side, 
 while the water was wrung from his eyes. 
 
 For what they had given him was not 
 candy at all, but tiny, hot, red peppers ; and 
 if you doubt if they are hot, try one for your- 
 self sometime. 
 
 Now, the time comes to every one in this 
 world when he has borne all that he can. 
 When Jim cleared his vision, and the first 
 thing he saw was Willie Merryweather's 
 usually pale face all aglow with the most 
 exquisite enjoyment, he felt something burn 
 within him, and his eyes blurred again, but 
 this time it was not with the hotness of the 
 peppers. 
 
 " Yo' is de meanes', an' lowes' downes', 
 white boy I is ever seen! " he began, the 
 white of his eyes showing, and a sort of 
 pallor appearing under his dark skin. " Yes, 
 yo' is! " he went on, though Willie had 
 sprung to his feet. It was the first time Jim 
 had ever spoken in his own defence, and, 
 though he must have felt the futility of it,
 
 62 John o' Partletts' 
 
 the impetus of his own feelings carried him 
 on. " Yes, yo' is! " he reiterated. " Yo' 
 is! " shying a little away from Willie, who 
 stood head and shoulders above him, and who 
 now had taken an attitude of " coming 
 on." 
 
 " An' ef ! " went on Jim, in a last des- 
 perate outburst, " I was to tell de ha'f o' de 
 mean tricks yo ' dun play on me ! " 
 
 But he never told, nor did he ever finish his 
 sentence, for a blow from Willie's fist well 
 planted in his chest sent him sprawling; the 
 grass rustled under him, and a few little peb- 
 bles, dislodged, sprang away and plumped 
 into the stream below. 
 
 " You'll back-talk me, will you? " asked 
 Willie, standing over him, hands on hips, and 
 his red hair on end. " I guess not, you low 
 down nigger, you! The minister licked you 
 this mornin', an' I'm for keepin' you in your 
 place! Don't you budge! " as Jim made a 
 little scramble to get up. " I'll keep you 
 there as long as I've a mind to ! " 
 
 Jim lay panting, looking helplessly at his
 
 Jim Goes to Partletts' 63 
 
 adversary. The other boys, following the 
 bully's lead, snickered. 
 
 But one heart here was moved. Little 
 Maggie Merryweather, a brown-eyed little 
 girl, with a gentle expression, stole forth 
 timidly. 
 
 11 Willie," she whispered, " let him up 
 now! You've done enough! " 
 
 " An' what business of yours ! " cried Wil- 
 lie, flaring round. * ' My eye ! What busi- 
 ness! " 
 
 And Maggie retired, for Willie was su- 
 preme ruler in their house. When Maggie 
 raised a protest Kitty always silenced her 
 with : " H'm, an' what's you to talk? You'd 
 better be showin' respect for your men-folk! 
 Happen you'll be asking your bread and but- 
 ter of him by an' by! " 
 
 So Jim's one friend retired, and it ap- 
 peared that there was no one either brave 
 enough or kind enough to raise a voice. 
 
 Now it happened that, at this minute, had 
 any one looked up at the bare, steep road that 
 led down from Partletts ', he would have seen
 
 64 John o' Partletts' 
 
 Bomething crawling and zigzagging slowly 
 down that incline. Slowly, very slowly, it 
 approached, and now that it neared the foot 
 of the hill, one could discern what it was ; - 
 an old horse, lame in the right fore leg, draw- 
 ing a battered vehicle which might once have 
 been in the nature of an open carriage, but 
 would now unquestionably be described as a 
 rattletrap, and on its front seat, holding the 
 reins, was a figure, broad, sturdy, with some- 
 thing red wrapped about head and shoulders 
 whether man or woman, at this distance, 
 could not be said. 
 
 On came the old carriage through the 
 bright, warm sunshine, swaying and totter- 
 ing, then rattling most fearfully as it turned 
 into the hard road ; for every joint was creak- 
 ing, every spring broken, and the wheels 
 turned wearily and uncertainly, as if every 
 revolution would be their last. 
 
 A crazy sight ! But no one saw it, for the 
 eyes of every one in the little group about 
 Jim were fastened on Willie Merryweather, 
 to see what he would next do.
 
 Jim Goes to Partletts' 65 
 
 Willie, thus situated, feeling himself the 
 hero of the hour, intended to rise to the oc- 
 casion; he intended to do something manly 
 and surprising ; he wished to amaze them all, 
 and give them something to talk about. His 
 flushed face gradually paled, so that his 
 freckles stood out plainly, and a queer sort of 
 livid white appeared about his nose and 
 mouth. Little Maggie could have told the 
 meaning of that look; it meant that he was 
 about to do the very meanest thing that he 
 could think of. In fact Willie would not 
 have dared do what he contemplated, save for 
 the fact that Jim had been punished by Mr. 
 Carruthers. If he was in disfavor with the 
 minister he was indeed a criminal, ancLshould 
 be treated as such by right-minded persons. 
 This would be as clear as day to every one ; 
 and he even felt a sort of lordly expansion, 
 as if he were, in a way, seconding the efforts 
 of an infallible power. 
 
 Suddenly he stood away from Jim, and 
 said: 
 
 " Stand up!"
 
 66 John o' Partletts' 
 
 It was hard to obey such a master, and 
 Jim hesitated, but Willie making a suggestive 
 movement with his foot, he arose. 
 
 " Now I!m going to do something that'll 
 surprise you. You won't like it, but it'll be 
 good for you ! '' ' said Willie, winking at the 
 others. " Now, you do just as I tell youl 
 Every time I count, you step back a pace, I 
 follows, an' we see what 'appens! Now, 
 one! " 
 
 Jim stepped backward a pace, and Willie 
 forward. 
 
 ' ' Two ! ' ' And they stood looking at each 
 other, Willie grinning now, and Jim's eyes 
 round with anxiety. 
 
 "Three! Four!" 
 
 " I can't go no furder! " exclaimed Jim, 
 glancing over his shoulder, and seeing the 
 edge of the river-bank right behind him. 
 
 " You ain't asked to ! " supplemented Wil- 
 lie, and before any one could draw breath 
 there was a splash and a splutter, and a cry 
 of terror from the water and one of amaze- 
 ment from the bank. For the second time,
 
 Jim Goes to Partletts' 67 
 
 Willie had planted Ms fist in Jim's chest, and 
 the little darkey had doubled up like a clasp- 
 knife and gone over backwards into the shal- 
 low, swift-flowing little stream. 
 
 For just an instant there was a dead si- 
 lence, and then it was broken by a strong, 
 hoarse voice, which had a deep vibration in 
 it. 
 
 " Now, what is the meaning of that! " it 
 asked. 
 
 The consternation in the little group was 
 immediate; every one turned, and Willie 
 Merryweather whirled around, surprised 
 into uttering an oath, a luxury he did not 
 often allow himself, because he had a good 
 voice, and was proud of singing in the church 
 choir ; should the minister hear he swore, he 
 would not be allowed to appear there again. 
 
 All gazed, and no wonder! The fantastic 
 old vehicle had come up to them and stopped. 
 The old horse stood shuffling his feet in the 
 dust ; the figure in the front seat had arisen, 
 thrown back the red drapery, which appeared 
 much like an ancient piece of patchwork, ex-
 
 68 John o' Partletts' 
 
 posing a head tightly wound round with a 
 long strip of red cambric in place of a hat; 
 and strong, bronzed, hawk-like features. 
 
 All were somewhat impressed, and all ap- 
 peared frightened. The smaller children 
 jumped back behind the long grass. 
 
 " Witch Beevish! The old Witch! " was 
 whispered. 
 
 " What was that done for? " came the 
 strong voice again, and the strange figure 
 stood, pointing at Willie Merryweather. 
 * ' You you, who did the deed, answer 
 me!" 
 
 "I I, er " he began. But Witch 
 Beevish had laid down the reins and was 
 already climbing out of her equipage. A dif- 
 ficult performance, for. now it was to be seen 
 that she was a stout, broad woman, very 
 heavily made, and, as she grasped the side of 
 the seat and reached with her foot for the 
 step, the whole edifice tottered, shook and 
 careened as if it must surely topple over 
 sidewise with her weight and end its long 
 career of usefulness here in the dust.
 
 Jim Goes to Partletts' 69 
 
 But she reached earth without accident, 
 and walked forward. 
 
 " Child! " she cried in a loud voice to the 
 invisible Jim; " child, come out of that 
 water! " 
 
 But from the bank there came no move- 
 ment. Jim was too frightened to appear. 
 Others were frightened too, and the long 
 grass shook as Willie's retainers quickly 
 crept away, some on all fours. Now, Willie 
 was no warrior bold. Seeing himself left 
 alone, he thought it best in this emergency 
 to disappear also. But at the first move a 
 grasp was laid on him, so strong and deter- 
 mined that he realized there was no use in 
 battling. He resigned himself with a sulky 
 air, and, under her guidance, moved to the 
 edge of the bank with " Witch Beevish." 
 
 There, cowering behind a big stone, was a 
 little black, dripping figure. The woman 
 looked a moment, then held out her hand. 
 
 ' * Come, child ! ' ' she said again in her com- 
 manding voice, and she half pulled, half sup- 
 ported Jim up the bank. He stood dripping
 
 70 
 
 and sniffling, bent over, looking very small. 
 " Now," she said, pointing first to Jim, then 
 to the stream, and speaking very distinctly, 
 " why did you throw that boy in there? " 
 
 " Because," said Willie, trying to appear 
 dignified, " because he's a bad un! " 
 
 ' * How is he a ' bad un ' ? " 
 
 " He lives with my mother, and he won't 
 work for her! " 
 
 " Oh! " exclaimed the old woman, looking 
 keenly at him, and slightly winking her eyes 
 with an expression of assumed astonishment. 
 " Is that so? Yes, I've heard he lives with 
 your mother, and I'll warrant one thing 
 if he lives with her, he works for her ! ' ' she 
 added emphatically. 
 
 In assisting Jim she had been obliged to 
 release Willie's arm ; he had gradually edged 
 further and further from her, until now, out 
 of arm's reach, he began to feel bold 
 again. 
 
 " Well, as happens, it don't matter what 
 you think ! " he remarked impudently. ' ' No- 
 body cares what you think! An' nobody's
 
 Jim Goes to Partletts' 71 
 
 goin' to take sides with 'im either. It's 
 proved he 's a bad un, the minister hisself 
 licked him this mornin'! " 
 
 The woman flashed a look at him, and it 
 could be seen that her eyes were dark blue 
 and vivid. 
 
 " Him? What for? " she asked slowly. 
 
 " 'Cause," said Willie, beginning to 
 chuckle, and pointing at Jim, ' ' when he was 
 alone in the garden, a basket o' grapes 
 finest of the crop is spilled, knocked over, 
 trompled on! An' Mr. Carruthers, when he 
 finds it out, didn't he give it to him though! 
 Didn't he wallop him! " 
 
 " Whipped him! " said the woman, point- 
 ing to the figure of little Jim, which could 
 be seen plainly beneath his thin, dripping 
 clothes, " for a basket of grapes ! Faugh ! 
 Fine work! Fine! " she went on, her face 
 beginning to twitch, and her eyes seeming to 
 concentrate themselves into two points of 
 blue fire, while she turned toward the par- 
 sonage, and shook her fist in its direction. 
 ' ' Your grapes were spoiled, yours, you mas-
 
 72 John o' Partletts' 
 
 ter of souls ! You salt of the earth ! Yes, I 
 know you, and your kind ! your hearts are 
 as hard as flint! And do you suppose that 
 God hears your prayers ? a God of kind- 
 ness ! " But her discourse was suddenly 
 interrupted by a low voice : 
 
 " An' there's not a doubt, ma'am, but 
 you're much better acquainted with the Lord 
 Almighty, than the parson is! " said the 
 voice in a respectful tone. 
 
 The old woman started; she turned with 
 the quickness of lightning and grasped at 
 the mocking boy. But he was already in the 
 road, doubled over with laughter. 
 
 " A fine preachin'! Fine! " he shouted. 
 " An' now I must be biddin' you good-by. 
 As for you " he said to Jim, " we'll be 
 seein' you at our 'ouse later, an' my mother '11 
 'tend to you! Good-by, fossil! " he finished, 
 striking at the old horse, which had stood 
 during the whole encounter, its head lowered, 
 fast asleep. 
 
 He had already started on a run, and his 
 stroke at the horse's head missed. But the
 
 Jim Goes to Partletts' 73 
 
 woman saw, and, with a quickness which was 
 wonderful, she sprang over the grass and 
 into the road. She missed Willie by a hand's 
 length ; her face was flaming with anger and 
 excitement, and her outstretched fingers 
 trembled. 
 
 " If I had caught you! " she muttered. 
 
 A loud laugh of derision answered, and 
 Willie's fleeing heels disappeared in a cloud 
 of sunlit dust. 
 
 For fully a minute the woman stood look- 
 ing at the bare, plain little town as it lay 
 outspread in the sunlight, an expression of 
 defiance and bitterness on her compressed 
 lips, as if she would have challenged the very 
 houses to come forth and do battle. Then 
 she turned, her eyes rested on the miserable, 
 shrinking figure of little Jim, and her face 
 gradually changed. 
 
 " Come, child," she said. " Come home 
 with me in my carriage," and drawing her- 
 self up and straightening the strange crim- 
 son headdress, she took Jim's hand. " There,
 
 74 John o' Partletts' 
 
 jump in, and I will cover you with the 
 robe." 
 
 It was true that as Jim stepped on to the 
 floor of the strange vehicle a loose board flew 
 up and all but struck him in the face, and the 
 " robe " consisted of the old patchwork dra- 
 pery. But Jim was scarcely one to criticize. 
 He sat in the back seat, wrapped in the robe, 
 which, after all, was warm, gazing dumbly at 
 the square, firm shoulders in front of him, in 
 a kind of trance, too cold, frightened and 
 bewildered to think or even to observe. 
 
 They went what seemed a long, long dis- 
 tance, the old horse always at a walk, along 
 the highroad, circling the whole hill of Part- 
 letts', and then crossing a little bridge and 
 turning into the woods, they began gradually 
 to ascend it. Partlettsville was no longer in 
 sight ; this was the side of the hill hidden from 
 the town, nor was there any house in sight, 
 only the narrow road, and trees upon trees, 
 firs, pine, dogwood turning bright red and 
 covered with scarlet berries, great sycamores 
 and chestnuts, all clustering close, and slo-
 
 Jim Goes to Partletts* 75 
 
 ping away down the hillside in a great mass 
 of autumn glory. 
 
 The sun was beginning to decline; its 
 golden rays became red ; a bright mist gath- 
 ered, crept up the valley and clung among 
 the tree-tops, dim and purplish, softening 
 all. 
 
 Jim had begun to feel aroused. He was 
 looking about him, at the clustering trees, at 
 the dogwood that made him think of home, 
 at the golden-rod that grew along the road 
 as high as the carriage wheels. Suddenly he 
 gave a cry. 
 
 They had turned a bend in the road ; there 
 was a wide opening between the heavy 
 growth of trees, and there, in the near dis- 
 tance, stood a tiny cottage covered with vines, 
 and all about it bloomed a garden such a 
 garden! Salvias, asters, chrysanthemums 
 were banked together in a luxuriant confu- 
 sion, all lying dim in the last gentle rays 
 of the sun, like a fairy plantation. And, 
 sloping away from it, down the hillside, the 
 heavy forest of trees with all their changing
 
 76 John o' Partletts' 
 
 shades, down, down, miles away to where a 
 tiny white shelf of beach could be seen, and 
 beyond, softly surging, reflecting the lights 
 of the bright evening sky on its deep, deep 
 blue breast flecked with white, rolled the 
 ocean! Already, far down there, scores of 
 little lights were beginning to glow out from 
 cottages and fishers' huts along the beach, 
 and though they were miles away there was 
 an inexpressible charm and friendliness in 
 their appearance. 
 
 The old woman drew up her horse; she 
 turned and looked at Jim, and after a glance 
 at his little black, staring face, she slightly 
 smiled. 
 
 11 That," she said, extending her arm, and 
 speaking with a peculiar mixture of gentle- 
 ness and pride, " is mine! All mine, to en- 
 joy, to watch, and to love! Those over 
 there,'* she added with scorn, pointing to the 
 brow of the hill above them, below which, 
 far in the valley on the other side, lay Part- 
 lettsville, " they know nothing of it, care 
 nothing for it. All they know is that this is
 
 Jim Goes to Partletts' 77 
 
 a steep place, hard to get at, impossible, they 
 call it, in winter. Why, one hour here is 
 worth a lifetime in their bleak little hole I 
 Child, when I came here I would have been 
 their friend, they could have been mine; I 
 wanted friends, God knows ! But they would 
 have none of me ! People about here say that 
 Partlettsville was built on the wrong side of 
 the hill, but I say, no! It was built on the 
 right side! Those people down there, they 
 have narrow, cold souls! Why, then,*' she 
 exclaimed vehemently, " should the bright- 
 est sunshine fall on them? Or nature bloom 
 for them? Nature," she said, looking at Jim, 
 and nodding her head emphatically, " blooms 
 for those who love her. No, no, let be let 
 be! They belong there, and I here. And, 
 thank God, I have it, in its beauty, alone I 
 Mine, child, mine ! My home ! ' ' She finished 
 with passion, tears beginning to course her 
 cheeks. She put up her hand and straight- 
 ened her strange headdress, her strong old 
 face drawn by some inward agitation, her 
 eyes flashing, and her hawk-like profile stand-
 
 78 John o' Partletts' 
 
 ing out clear, sharp, and stern as a man's in 
 the glow of the waning light. 
 
 Had any of those of whom she spoke seen 
 her at this moment they would undoubtedly 
 have declared that the old Witch was in one 
 of her crazy spells ! 
 
 But, as it was, her audience was not crit- 
 ical. True, Jim saw in her a strange being, 
 but he also saw in her a rescuer. He had 
 heard that she was crazy, but the simple 
 child did not fear her. He looked at her with 
 a kind of innocent wonder, and he felt con- 
 fidence in her. She had brought him to a 
 beautiful place ; the most beautiful place 
 he had seen since he left his far-off home. 
 He gathered that she hated and even feared 
 the people of Partlettsville ; he, too, hated 
 and feared them ; and he saw from her looks 
 that all the beauty that was spread about 
 them was dear to her. And deep, deep down 
 in his heart, he understood that feeling, 
 though he could not tell of it, and had no 
 way of showing it. No, he had no way of 
 showing it, but as the old woman looked into
 
 Jim Goes to Partletts' 79 
 
 his little black face, which had a sort of 
 happy, awed expression upon it, she picked 
 up the reins with a look of satisfaction and 
 turned the old horse toward the tiny cottage.
 
 CHAPTER VH 
 
 JOHN 
 
 IT was on the very edge of Winter ; already 
 the little stream that flowed round Partletts- 
 ville appeared motionless, covered with a 
 thin coating of ice. The fall winds had 
 stripped the last leaves from the old willows 
 that bordered the high road, and their thin, 
 whip-like branches swayed and rattled mourn- 
 fully. The inhabitants of Partlettsville, 
 looking up at the great hill, saw only trees 
 stripped of their bright foliage, save at the 
 very top, where a few tall firs, and the big 
 pine and the little one, stood up as green as 
 ever against the sky. 
 
 Nothing much ever happened in Partletts- 
 ville, but now something had happened. The 
 old French shoemaker who had lived here 
 for five years it was said, on nothing, be- 
 cause he spent so little but who had done 
 
 so
 
 John 81 
 
 a good business, and saved money, had 
 moved away. Some said he had saved a 
 fortune; that he was going back to Prance; 
 but others said this was no such thing, 
 he was merely moving a matter of a score 
 of miles or so, up the road, to a bigger town, 
 and a bigger business. Probably a correct 
 guess this; for he sold none of his belong- 
 ings, taking all with him, down to every least 
 scrap of kindling wood; down, it was said, 
 to a bundle of old rags and a lot of empty 
 match boxes. For old Simon under no cir- 
 cumstances ever threw away a thing. 
 
 There was one possession of his, however, 
 which he did leave behind; it had been ex- 
 tremely useful to him during the five years 
 that he had lived in the little house, and, 
 either there could have been no room for it 
 in the cart, or else he was assured he could 
 replace it where he was going, or very likely 
 it chanced that its day of usefulness was over 
 for him. At any rate, this one possession the 
 old French miser left behind him, his dog. 
 
 As he was about to climb into the furni-
 
 82 John o' Partletts' 
 
 ture cart he had looked over the gate into 
 the dog's face. 
 
 " Mind ze place, John Frenchy, mon gar- 
 gonf " he had said with a grin, " until you 
 see me again ! And zat will be ze long, long 
 time ! " he added. Then he climbed into the 
 cart, sat himself down beside the driver, 
 took out his pipe, and went off, without once 
 troubling to look back. And John Frenchy, 
 seated in the walk before the tiny cottage, 
 understood well the first part of the injunc- 
 tion, which had been given him many times 
 before, but the latter part he understood not 
 at all. 
 
 This John Frenchy was the biggest and 
 ugliest cur that the inhabitants of Partletts- 
 ville had ever seen. Kitty was right when 
 she informed Jim that he was " the fierc- 
 est ever you saw! " Perhaps he was about 
 the fiercest and ugliest that anybody ever 
 saw. And he had a temper that matched 
 his outside. He had been given to Simon 
 by a French peddler, a tramp, who passed 
 through the town years before; and it was
 
 John 83 
 
 evident that in his youth some one had used 
 him ill. 
 
 Some one, when he was a puppy per- 
 haps it was the peddler had ' ' trimmed 
 him up." His tail had been cut off at the 
 root. Literally, he had no tail at all, not 
 even a stump ; and he was in much the same 
 case as to ears. Where these should have 
 been there were only to be found little ridges 
 under the fur. Perhaps it was this that 
 interfered with his hearing, or, perhaps, he 
 had been born partially deaf ; at any rate, he 
 heard very ill, but he made up for this by 
 the keenest scent in the world. 
 
 He was a mongrel, with tawny hair, heavy 
 and rather shaggy, striped here and there 
 with black, especially about the face; here 
 the black streaks came down between his 
 brows, looking like furrows and giving him 
 all the appearance of scowling most horri- 
 bly; his rather small, bright, spiteful, sus- 
 picious eyes carried out the impression of 
 a scowl, and his whole, great, earless head 
 was fearsome, especially when, as was often
 
 84 John o' Partletts' 
 
 the case, the lips were drawn back in a snarl, 
 exposing the long fangs on either side of the 
 big mouth. 
 
 Old Simon had accepted him from the ped- 
 dler because of his evil temper. The old 
 man, like all misers, kept every cent of his 
 money hidden in his house. This was well 
 known, and country credulity had swelled the 
 amount of his savings into something quite 
 vast for this little corner of the world. The 
 old man, before the coming of the dog, had 
 never felt quite comfortable; after he came 
 he never gave himself a moment's uneasi- 
 ness at home or abroad ; John Frenchy could 
 and would have kept at bay a small army 
 or, to be more practical and explicit, he 
 would have throttled without the slightest 
 hesitation any one who had stepped foot, 
 uninvited, within the old man's gate. Not 
 only did he protect house and yard but he 
 considered that he and his master owned the 
 road before it, so that pedestrians had to 
 make a detour, and the grass grew on the 
 little dirt sidewalk before the cottage.
 
 John 85 
 
 As may be believed, this did not increase 
 his popularity among the inhabitants of 
 Partlettsville, but it suited old Simon. He 
 would chuckle and grin when the dog's great 
 bellow warned him of some approach, and 
 run out on his little porch, rubbing his 
 hands, and crying out: 
 
 " John Frenchy, mon gargon, he comes to 
 me on business, let him pass! " And to 
 the visitor : * ' You do well to hesitate, to wait 
 for ze pear-misse-on ! He would kill you, ze 
 John Frenchy, he would kill you! " 
 
 And no one, looking in-to John Frenchy 's 
 face, made the slightest doubt of the matter. 
 
 And then, when old Simon was going out, 
 it was always with a meaning grin: 
 
 " Keep ze place for me, John Frenchy! 
 Keep house for me, mon ex-ze-lent gargon! ' 
 
 And this John Frenchy invariably had 
 done, and this he proceeded to do on the 
 present occasion only the absence of his 
 master was very, very long ! 
 
 All during the Fall, John Frenchy spent 
 his time sitting in the little path and watch-
 
 86 John o' Partletts' 
 
 ing, then stalking to the big hogshead, turned 
 over on its side, which served him for a ken- 
 nel, and again watching. And how much he 
 comprehended of the passage of time is not 
 recorded. But there is one sure timepiece 
 for man and beast hunger. When John 
 Frenchy watched his house until he became 
 ravenous he would make a dash up the hill 
 of Partletts', scent out a rabbit, secure it, 
 and come loping home, the dead thing hang- 
 ing from his mouth, retire to his hogshead 
 bristling and growling to himself, and de- 
 vour every morsel, bones and all, with the 
 exception perhaps of a few shreds of fur. 
 Woe betide any creature who had come near 
 him then! And those who saw him in the 
 distance, coming down the hillside after one 
 of his forays, his bloody prey in his mouth, 
 shuddered as if they had seen a wolf or other 
 wild creature. 
 
 And, indeed, the great mongrel began 
 somewhat to wear that appearance ; he grew 
 so lean that his body looked long and sinewy ; 
 his eyes and face became fiercer; at the
 
 John 87 
 
 sound of human voices, even on the high- 
 road, his stiff hair bristled, and he gave out 
 his furious bellow. 
 
 He barked most of the time now, and the 
 heavy, deep reverberation seemed to ring 
 against the hill and echo back over the little 
 town. 
 
 " Pity as somebody don't put a load o' 
 lead into him ! ' ' remarked Gus Schaf tsmire, 
 the butcher's son, a fair-haired youth of 
 about nineteen, who prided himself on being 
 a sport and understanding something of the 
 breeding and points of dogs. " He's the 
 lowest-down lookin' scoundrel ever I see! 
 And you can bet your life, with all his size 
 and noise, a dirty coward at heart ! I never 
 see one of them curs but what he was a cow- 
 ard! It stands to reason a dog can't have 
 no quality when he ain 't got no good blood ! ' ' 
 
 It was to be observed, however, that, in 
 delivering his orders, Mr. Gus made as wide 
 a detour around John Frenchy's abode as 
 any one. 
 
 " An' what's the reason of his infernal
 
 88 John o' Partletts' 
 
 barkin' over nothin'? " some one asked. 
 " He never used to do so.'* 
 
 " Lonesomeness, most like," answered 
 Gus contemptuously. " When dogs is lone- 
 some, they mostly barks. Not havin' nobody 
 to speak to, you see," he added facetiously, 
 " he just nacherly wants to hear the sound 
 of his own voice." 
 
 One day, wishing to show his contempt for 
 the now cadaverous-looking beast, and fancy- 
 ing himself quite at a safe distance^ Gus 
 stood up in his wagon, threw a stone, which 
 struck on John Frenchy's hogshead kennel, 
 and drove away, chuckling, at top speed. 
 But the chuckle died in his throat. The 
 great beast leaped out at the challenge ; every 
 hair on end, he placed his assailant instantly 
 and was over the fence and after the wagon, 
 his eyes blazing and his tongue lolling from 
 the side of his mouth. Gus did not stop to 
 try out whether John Frenchy was a coward 
 or not! Leaning over the dashboard, he 
 began to lash his horse. And soon the 
 strange spectacle was seen rushing down the
 
 John 89 
 
 quiet street of Partlettsville, Gus, his florid 
 face very white, leaning over his horse, lash- 
 ing it across the neck, and a few rods behind, 
 John Frenchy, lean, bristling, his eyes rolled 
 up with deadly meaning upon the man. 
 
 Not a second too soon did Gus reach his 
 father's shop, leap across the pavement, and 
 slam the door. For, with the fall of the 
 latch, John Frenchy 's body was heard to 
 crash against the wood, and those who were 
 spectators to this scene declared that if the 
 dog had been at all in proper form, without 
 a doubt he would have caught the youth. 
 
 " An' what would 'a' happened then? " 
 was asked significantly. 
 
 Gus had always hated John Frenchy with, 
 as it were, a sporting hatred, because he was 
 low-bred, and had no " form " or " points; " 
 but after this he hated him with a personal 
 hatred. And, the excitement once over, there 
 was no lack of those who put their tongues 
 in their cheeks, and said : 
 
 " Coward eh, Gussy! But who done the 
 runnin', Gussy f k Who done the nmnin'T "
 
 90 John o' Partletts' 
 
 " An' if I'd a gun in my hands, do you 
 suppose I'd 'a' run? " shouted the valiant 
 Schaftsmire. 
 
 " Well! " some one would bring out with 
 a wink, " you had your whip, hadn't you! ' 
 
 * ' Whip ! Huh ! if you 'd seen the face 
 of him! " the other would reply surlily; 
 and then, his florid face flushing with mor- 
 tification, " but I'll get up with him some 
 day! " 
 
 After this adventure it was felt by all that 
 it was a dangerous matter for such a fero- 
 cious, wild-like creature to be at large. 
 There followed a great fastening up of 
 gates, lest he might prowl; and if, impelled 
 by hunger, he showed his tawny hide near 
 a dwelling, there was such a scuttling indoors 
 and rain of missiles from windows as would 
 have done honor to a jungle tiger him- 
 self. 
 
 But this happened less and less often. The 
 more John Frenchy was shunned, the more- 
 he shunned others. In the first place, he had 
 been taught by his old master to regard
 
 John 91 
 
 these people with suspicion; in the second, 
 though he was hideous, and a mongrel from 
 his head to his heels, yet he had a pride of his 
 own. He visited the back yards and scrap 
 pans of Partlettsville far less often than any 
 of the owners thereof could have been 
 brought to believe. 
 
 No, he fell back on wild things, and his 
 ability to kill. Wild prey for the wild dog! 
 The serious trouble with this was, that so 
 near the habitations of man, within the 
 sound of voices, and sight of chimneys, there 
 was a decidedly meagre supply of wild prey. 
 Had he roamed far, over the opposite side 
 of the hill of Partletts', beyond the Witch's 
 house, into the lonely woods that sloped 
 toward the ocean, he would have found what 
 he needed a-plenty. But he kept to the near 
 side of the hill; for John Frenchy had it 
 fixed firmly in his dog's brain that he was 
 watching the house for his master, and along 
 the whole of this side of the hill he could 
 keep the deserted house and tiny yard within 
 his sight.
 
 92 John o' Partletts' 
 
 The person who oftenest saw him on his 
 forays was Will Michaelson, a wood-cutter, 
 who often stole up the side of the hill at night 
 and felled a tree, because the owner of all 
 this property never came near it, and one 
 might as well have the benefit of a little 
 kindling wood! The only person he feared 
 was Witch Beevish ; she loved every tree on 
 the hill, and raised such a clamor when one 
 was felled, that, to get rid of her long tongue, 
 he performed his business at night. It was 
 true she had nothing to do with all this prop- 
 erty; it was even said that the papers she 
 held to her own bit of land were not good; 
 but she behaved as if all were hers, and pro- 
 tected it as such. 
 
 Michaelson saw the wild dog, as he had 
 come to be called, night after night, nosing 
 through the leaves and underbrush, breath- 
 ing and panting hard as he burrowed for his 
 infrequent prey, and he gave him a wide 
 berth. But once he had the scare of his 
 life. 
 
 The night was overcast. It chanced that
 
 John 93 
 
 the dog had been progressing silently ; so had 
 Michaelson, when suddenly the moon broke 
 through a rift, and there they were, face to 
 face, in the narrow wood track! Michaelson 
 said that the dog's eyes were bloodshot, his 
 lips slobbering, and his whole face hunger- 
 pinched and wildly intent upon the scent of 
 some prey. He flung up his head when he 
 saw his way blocked, and Michaelson be- 
 lieved that, deaf as the dog was, and having 
 the scent of his prey in his nostrils, he had 
 not been conscious of any other presence 
 until the moonlight revealed the man before 
 him. However that might be, he glared with 
 the most awful expression of fury and dis- 
 appointment. For one moment Michaelson 
 thought he would spring at his throat, the 
 next, he turned with a snarl and crashed 
 away through the underbrush. 
 
 After this Michaelson took little pleasure 
 in his nightly excursions. 
 
 " I tell you, there ain't room enough for 
 me an' that feller on the hillside," he re- 
 marked emphatically.
 
 John o' Partletts' 
 
 " Set a trap," some one advised sagely. 
 
 " An' so I will," he assented, looking a 
 little puzzled as to how this was to be accom- 
 plished. 
 
 It happened soon after this that, John 
 Frenchy being lamed, it was set down by 
 many to be the dexterous work of Michael- 
 son. Others, however, declared that the dog 
 had been wounded by Gus Schaftsmire, who 
 constantly carried a gun under the seat of 
 his wagon, and had long declared he would 
 shoot if he came within close range. Neither 
 of these worthies denied the impeachment, 
 and each received credit from his particular 
 friends for being bold and clever enough to 
 do up the big beast. 
 
 He was done up, sure enough, it was plain 
 to be seen. 
 
 Standing on the highroad, one could look 
 over the flat meadows and get a view of John 
 Frenchy 's yard and all that went on there. 
 Any one watching at this time could see John 
 Frenchy come out of his hogshead, make a 
 painful hobble or two, and sink back upon
 
 John 95 
 
 his haunches. He could be seen, too, to nib- 
 ble gingerly at his paw, and then lick it ten- 
 derly as if with a wish to nurse it back to 
 usefulness. 
 
 This went on for three days. On the 
 afternoon of the third, a little group of men, 
 passing along the highroad, paused by the 
 fence to look over John Frenchy's do- 
 main. 
 
 " He must be starvin' hungry down there, 
 by this time," remarked one. 
 
 " Yes, it 'ud be a mercy to put a load o' 
 shot into him now, a mercy to him, an' to 
 us, too," replied another. 
 
 " What is it? " asked a hoarse, strong 
 voice from the rear. 
 
 The men turned with a jerk. The speaker 
 was Witch Beevish, on one of her very in- 
 frequent passages through Partlettsville. 
 " What are you looking at? " she asked 
 again, as the men turned from her without 
 troubling themselves to reply. 
 
 " Just old Simon's dog down there, he's 
 hurt," said one of the men negligently.
 
 96 John o' Partletts' 
 
 " Hurt! Why doesn't some one help 
 him? " 
 
 " It happens his master's away from 
 home just at present ! ' ' spoke up one of the 
 men with a grin. 
 
 " Then why not one of you? " said the 
 old woman promptly. 
 
 " One of us! " They looked at her be- 
 tween amusement and incredulity. " Say, 
 that's a good one! " 
 
 She had on her inevitable headdress of red 
 cambric, and the carriage robe was now do- 
 ing duty about her shoulders for a shawl; 
 it was made up of twenty colors pieced to- 
 gether, and she carried the strangest little 
 hand-bag of beads and worsted. She now 
 began fishing in this, drew out a pair of spec- 
 tacles, put them on, and then walking to the 
 corner, turned up the narrow sidewalk that 
 led to John Frenchy's house. 
 
 " Come back! Are you crazy? " shouted 
 one of the men, his face actually turning 
 pale. ' ' Say she ought to be fetched 
 back! "
 
 John 97 
 
 But she was already nearing the little 
 gate, and no one offered to execute this com- 
 mission. 
 
 Then something like a miracle happened. 
 She walked in at the gate of John Frenchy's 
 yard and up to the hogshead in which the 
 great beast lay. They could see her stop, 
 but her back was toward them and the patch- 
 work shawl of many colors obstructed the 
 view so they could not see her hawklike old 
 face turn pale for an instant as she looked 
 into the wild dog's eyes, nor how firmly she 
 set her lips and forced herself to look with 
 a steady expression straight into his face. 
 Neither could they hear her talk, talk to him 
 all the while; nor could they hear the low 
 moaning of John Frenchy from this dis- 
 tance, she had heard it the moment she 
 neared his house; he had probably kept it 
 up for many hours, for the pain in his paw 
 had become a burning anguish. 
 
 It seemed a long time, to those watching, 
 before the old woman stood up, turned, and 
 again came through the little gate. Oth-
 
 98 John o' Partletts' 
 
 ers had joined the group by now, and all 
 watched. 
 
 " 'Tain't natural! " said some one; " it 
 seems 'most like witch-craft! " 
 
 The old woman came forward, looked at 
 them contemptuously, and taking off her 
 spectacles, restored them to the worsted bag. 
 
 Now that she stood face to face with them, 
 quite sound, their alarm vanished, and they 
 began to nudge each other and snicker. 
 
 " What's the matter, Missis? " asked one, 
 pretending much concern ; ' ' did you find out 
 his ailments? " 
 
 She opened her hand and showed a long, 
 crooked thorn. 
 
 " Good God! " exclaimed the man. " Did 
 he let you take that out ? " 
 
 " .Well! an' more's the pity! " said a 
 voice; " now he'll be on his all fours 
 again ! ' ' 
 
 11 Where's old Simon? " asked the old 
 woman sharply. " Why doesn't he look 
 after his own dog? " 
 
 "OP Simon! He's been gone long an'
 
 " SHE OPENED HER HAND AND SHOWED A LONG, CROOKED 
 THORN."
 
 John 99 
 
 merry ago, never to come back! An' left 
 his fine cur behind him! " It was Gus 
 Schaftsmire's voice. He and Michaelson had 
 come up in time to see the thorn displayed, 
 and each wore a rather sheepish appearance. 
 
 The old woman stood still for a minute, 
 looking from face to face. 
 
 ' ' Ah ! ' ' she said slowly, nodding her head 
 once or twice. Then she walked up to the 
 fence rail ; taking hold of it, she leaned over 
 as if to make herself better heard, and yelled 
 at the top of her voice a stentorian voice 
 across the meadow. 
 
 " John Frenchy, you're deserted! It's 
 the way of the world! Your usefulness is 
 over to the person who owned you, and he's 
 kicked you off, it's the way of the world I " 
 Her eyes began to flash, and her voice to 
 vibrate with agitation, but it rang out as 
 strong as ever. " I know what loneliness is, 
 too ! ' ' she screamed. ' ' And ingratitude, 
 and falseness ! If you ever want a friend, 
 come to one who is in like condition with 
 yourself ! You know where I live, on the
 
 100 John o' Partletts' 
 
 top of Partletts'. You've passed my house 
 I've seen you go by ! " she shouted, precisely 
 as if she were speaking to a person. The 
 first part of her speech was dramatic and 
 amusing enough, but these explicit directions 
 to John Frenchy set the company off en- 
 tirely. They burst into a roar of laughter. 
 
 " An' what's that you're talkin' to himt 
 dog talk? " was asked between guffaws. 
 " An* was that what you talked to him down 
 there, too? " 
 
 Witch Beevish turned slowly, and looked 
 the man who spoke straight in the face : 
 
 "Yes, dog talk! " 
 
 This tickled him more than ever. 
 
 ' ' An ' could you teach it to me 1 " he asked 
 ingratiatingly. 
 
 She looked at him as if considering his 
 request. 
 
 " No,'* she said slowly, " you couldn't 
 learn it ! Only certain people know it, and no 
 one teaches it to them, they know it them- 
 selves. I can talk dog talk," she went on 
 with perfect gravity, looking straight into
 
 John 101 
 
 the man's face with eyes that shone like 
 points, " and bird talk, and the talk of all 
 the creatures up there! " indicating Part- 
 letts' with a majestic sweep of heo* arm. 
 With that she straightened her headdress, 
 stalked with dignity through the now large 
 ranks of her audience, climbed into her 
 strange vehicle, and drove away with her 
 head up, not again looking at a soul. 
 
 " Crazy as a loon! " murmured the man, 
 blinking and rubbing his hand over his eyes. 
 " And the stare she can give you! " 
 
 " Bird talk! Dog talk! " cackled Kitty 
 Merry weather ; * * now is anybody ever 'card 
 the equal o' that! " and she went on up the 
 street cackling, and turned in at Louisa 
 Myers, to describe the scene to her, that stout 
 person being in such a state of negligee that 
 she had been obliged to miss the entertain- 
 ment. 
 
 At the same moment Henry Carruthers, 
 chancing to be standing at one of the rectory 
 windows and seeing the strange-looking old 
 woman drive past, her hawk face flushed and
 
 102 John o' Partletts' 
 
 set, and lier lips murmuring in a sort of 
 aftermath of excitement, shook his head. 
 
 " Not a fit person for that child to be left 
 with; I must get him away from her," he 
 thought. But though he compressed his lips 
 determinedly his eyes looked thoughtful. 
 
 Witch Beevish was a difficult adversary to 
 try conclusions with !
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 JOHN GOES TO PAKTLETTS* 
 
 As was predicted, John Frenchy was soon 
 on his all fours again, and resumed his noc- 
 turnal foraging. 
 
 One morning he lay in his so-called kennel 
 after a very fruitless night of hunting. All 
 the rabbits seemed to have departed to the 
 opposite side of the hill of Partletts', and 
 this was not pleasant to contemplate with 
 Winter already on the scene; for this morn- 
 ing the sky was banked with heavy clouds 
 that held a sure promise of snow, and a cut- 
 ting wind swirled around the deserted cot- 
 tage and tiny bare yard. 
 
 John Frenchy felt exceedingly ill-hu- 
 mored, and he had reason to be; not only 
 was he hungry, he was cold. In spite of his 
 hard, coarse coat, he shivered ; he kept wrin- 
 kling up his fierce brows and scratching at 
 103
 
 104 John o' Partletts' 
 
 the old cotton comforter which was long 
 since worn into thin tatters, but which was 
 the only thing resembling home comfort 
 which John Frenchy knew. Worse than this, 
 his hogshead had begun to leak, so that his 
 floor was constantly damp. But it was the 
 only abiding-place he had, and, as every 
 creature must have some combination of 
 things that form home, John Frenchy stuck 
 to his, consisting of one leaky hogshead, 
 one old comforter, and one deluded and fixed 
 idea that his place was here to watch his 
 master's house. 
 
 It was true that thus far he had never 
 been called upon to forcibly protect the place 
 at all; the fact that John Frenchy and his 
 fixed idea were on the premises was quite 
 sufficient for all the neighbors. 
 
 But now, this morning, something quite 
 out of the ordinary was happening ! 
 
 A large, covered cart was rumbling along 
 the highroad. Suddenly the rumbling ceased. 
 John Frenchy looked out to see where the 
 cart was going. It had turned at the corner
 
 John Goes to Partletts' 105 
 
 and was rolling quietly along the earth road 
 toward his gate! He could scarcely believe 
 his eyes, but he sat quietly on the shadow of 
 the hogshead and watched. Then stranger 
 things happened. The cart came opposite, 
 turned, and backed up half-way across the 
 near sidewalk. The driver deliberately got 
 down, blanketed his horses, unfastened the 
 tail-board, and blissfully ignorant of John 
 Frenchy and his fixed idea came uncon- 
 cernedly forward to open the gate. 
 
 At last, then, it had come to John Frenchy 
 to protect his master's property! With a 
 roar, and a bound of his great body that 
 shook the hogshead from stem to stern, he 
 sprang on guard. 
 
 The driver, with an oath, slammed the gate 
 and retreated. 
 
 " What the devil! " he roared. " Git out 
 o' that, will you? " 
 
 He stood on the sidewalk and regarded 
 John Frenchy, the shock of the surprise 
 tingling in every nerve and irritating him 
 to the last fibre of his being.
 
 106 John o' Partletts' 
 
 " I'll fix you, all right! " he shouted at 
 length, and, going over to his wagon, took 
 out his long whip and made a valiant and 
 threatening motion toward the dog. 
 
 11 Now, will you git away? " he inquired. 
 
 John Frenchy did not budge. A slight 
 rasping sound could be heard in his throat, 
 and his hideous brows wrinkled together ; at 
 the same time his lips parted and were 
 drawn back, ever so little, just to show what 
 was beneath them. 
 
 The driver looked meditative. 
 
 " .What are you doin' here, anyhow! " he 
 asked after a while. 
 
 John Frenchy made no answer; he only 
 rolled his eyes sidewise, showing the blood- 
 shot white, and slightly shifted his paws. 
 
 " Well, well," said the man, deciding to 
 try what conciliation would accomplish. 
 ' ' He 's a good doggie ! Good doggie ! Let 
 me by! " And reaching out, at arm's length, 
 he tentatively laid two fingers on the gate. 
 
 John Frenchy eyed those two fingers. 
 The rasp became a growl ; there was a stif-
 
 John Goes to Partletts' 107 
 
 fening of his whole body and a rising of the 
 coarse hairs at the back of his head. The 
 man sprang back there was no misunder- 
 standing the expression of those little fixed 
 eyes! 
 
 " Curse you! You beast! " muttered the 
 driver from the edge of the sidewalk. 
 " What are you doin' here anyhow? Ain't 
 you know I got to move in that cart load o' 
 furniture? An 7 a storm comin' up! An* 
 
 a cold business hanging 'round in this 
 
 wind! " 
 
 Again John Frenchy shifted his paws and 
 rolled his eyes. For his part, he no longer 
 felt cold. The wind blew straight against 
 his lean body and ruffled his coarse hair until 
 it seemed to stand on end. But he was warm, 
 warmed by a feeling of animosity and 
 rage against this intruder who made so free 
 as to touch even the gate of his master's 
 property; and he sat square in the little 
 path, grim, immovable, as hotly zealous for 
 his cause as if it had been a real one, and not 
 merely a deluded, fixed idea.
 
 108 John o' Partletts' 
 
 The driver looked about him for a while, 
 and then, seeing a public house sign on the 
 high street, he sauntered over there, looking 
 as unconcerned as he might, and was soon 
 telling his predicament to those already 
 gathered about the bar. He gleaned but lit- 
 tle assurance from their attitude. They 
 were vastly amused, however, and laughed 
 loud and long. Doubtless it was some such 
 comedy as this which old Simon foresaw 
 when he winked and told John Frenchy to 
 watch the place. At any rate, his one-time 
 landlord, the owner of the little cottage, was 
 moving into it, and thus were his goods and 
 chattels held up at his own gateway. 
 
 " An' you've the devil to face!" the 
 driver was informed emphatically. " The 
 devil hisself in that beast! " 
 
 " I see," remarked that person resignedly, 
 over his second mug of beer. " It ain't no 
 use." 
 
 He was a big, lazy-looking fellow, and the 
 beer seemed to console him for his inability 
 to get to work. He contented himself by
 
 John Goes to Partletts' 109 
 
 sending word by a little urchin to the owner 
 of the state of affairs, and then perforce 
 made himself comfortable in the warm bar- 
 room. During the morning he would walk 
 to the end of the high street and look around 
 the corner to " see how things was goin'." 
 And each time, being refreshed by the sight 
 of John Frenchy sitting bolt upright in the 
 little path, not having budged an inch, re- 
 turned to his quarters ruefully shaking his 
 head. 
 
 But when it came time to bait his horses 
 he was in a quandary indeed, for by this 
 time he had heard so many tales of the fierce- 
 ness of the big brute that he really felt he 
 had been too venturesome this morning in 
 walking so near the lion's mouth. At length, 
 however, he essayed his task, a cudgel in one 
 hand, a bucket of feed in the other. No one 
 in Partlettsville offered to accompany him, 
 and very wisely. For the hatred of John 
 Frenchy for the inhabitants of Partlettsville 
 far exceeded his hatred of a stranger. 
 
 He reached his wagon, maintaining ap-
 
 110 John o' Partletts' 
 
 pearances, but feeling very shaky inwardly, 
 and John Frenchy watched him with an 
 eagerness and a look of readiness calculated 
 to make one uncomfortable. The big beast 
 made no motion, however; he allowed the 
 man to secure his feed bags, hang them over 
 his horses' ears, and walk away unmolested, 
 for he understood perfectly what he was 
 doing. He had seen horses fed before, and 
 he had no desire to interfere; for though 
 John Frenchy had become a prey to a fixed 
 idea, he was no fool I 
 
 Thus the day wore on. 
 
 In the afternoon the snow came, very fine, 
 whirling lightly over the frozen roads before 
 the keen wind. And with the snow came the 
 owner of the cottage, very angry, and vio- 
 lently proclaiming the fact. His advent was 
 announced by a little boy posted to keep 
 watch, who threw open the door of the bar- 
 room, hurling in, along with a blast of cold 
 air, the words : 
 
 " He's a-comin'! " 
 
 Sure enough, at the end of the high street
 
 John Goes to Partletts' 111 
 
 a horseman had dismounted and was leading 
 forward a jaded horse. 
 
 " What's the matter here! " he was ask- 
 ing excitedly on all sides. " What's the 
 matter, I say? ' 
 
 He was a small man with red moustache 
 and whiskers, and little green eyes. The 
 minute he caught sight of the driver he began 
 to bawl: 
 
 " Why, in heaven's name, ain't you taken 
 my things inside the house yonder? Don't 
 you tell me none of your lies, I don't want 
 to hear 'em! Ain't you got no spunk? Ain't 
 you a man? No," he yelled, dramatically 
 answering his own question, " you ain't got 
 the spunk of a feminine flea! " There were 
 some gurgles of laughter, and the driver 
 looked sheepish. 
 
 " Now, you follow me! " shouted the en- 
 ergetic little red-headed man. " I'll see 
 what's the meanin' of this talk about keepin' 
 a man out of his own property ! And ' ' 
 again to the driver, " you'll not get a cent 
 for bringin' the goods over, do you see? It's
 
 112 John o' Partletts' 
 
 your business to deliver them inside the 
 house! So come along! I ain't payin' you 
 for cowardice! " 
 
 The shouting and gesticulating had 
 brought men, women, and children into the 
 high street. Partlettsville was ever ready 
 for a free show. 
 
 And now was to be seen the little red- 
 headed man walking briskly toward the cor- 
 ner, rolling his eyes back at the slouching 
 driver, who lounged in his wake, but, sus- 
 tained by numberless mugs of beer, he found 
 sufficient courage to announce: 
 
 "That's all right! That's all right! 
 Whatever any man darst, I darst! " 
 
 They came to the corner, looked around it, 
 and paused. 
 
 There in the little path, in a swirl of fine 
 snow, sat John Frenchy, just as he had sat 
 all day, on guard, lean, alone. He saw the 
 red-headed man, he saw the driver, and 
 then he stood up, lowered his head, and 
 bristled, for he saw the Partlettsville folk. 
 These he knew by instinct and by instruction
 
 John Goes to Partletts' 113 
 
 to be his enemies. There was not one among 
 them whom he did not hate; not one who 
 did not hate him ; not one who had not jeered 
 at him and threatened him; who had not 
 thrown from windows every description of 
 missile a't him ! Now he saw them gathered, 
 with what intention he knew not ; but as they 
 gazed at him he returned their gaze full 
 measure, and sent out a deep, hollow chal- 
 lenge as if inviting them to personal combat 
 and a settlement of long account. 
 
 11 Oh, that's you, is it! " yelled the little 
 man. " That's the critter I've heard tell of, 
 is it? That's what old Simon leaves me in 
 place of two months' good rent, eh! Well, 
 I'll have the rent out of the old miser yet! 
 I'll let him know I'm as sharp as he is, if 
 I have to go to law for it! And, meantime, 
 you'll keep me out o' my property, eh! 
 Fine doin's! A little joke, eh? Let's see 
 about it! Come on! " he commanded his 
 big retainer; and, in spite of the fury in 
 his voice and gesture, he began with cool- 
 ness, his hands in his pockets, to walk along
 
 114 John o' Partletts' 
 
 the narrow sidewalk leading to the cot- 
 tage. 
 
 The big driver wagged his head and 
 lurched after him, repeating defiantly: 
 
 ' ' What any man darst, I darst 1 ' ' 
 
 There was a general shout from those 
 gathered at the corner: 
 
 '" Come back!" 
 
 " Don't you risk it! " 
 
 The red-headed man turned around. 
 
 " And do you think, " he asked, in a tone 
 of contempt, " that I'm afraid of a dog? '' 
 
 Gus Schaftsmire and some others red- 
 dened a little; and after this those on the 
 corner were silent. 
 
 The little man walked on step by step, his 
 hands in his pockets, apostrophizing John 
 Frenchy with every breath : 
 
 11 You uncivil cur, you! You'll keep folks 
 waitin' 'round all day, will you? Well, you'll 
 go to the devil, or else I will! One of us 
 two! " 
 
 John Frenchy saw an open and determined 
 enemy, and he stood waiting, his big head
 
 John Goes to Partletts' 115 
 
 raised, his lips lifted, a low gurgle in his 
 throat, and he slightly shook all over with 
 excitement. 
 
 The man had approached within a few 
 paces of him now, and raised his voice; 
 he began to shout more violently. John 
 Frenchy took a step forward, he lifted one 
 paw, and stood with it raised; he stood taut 
 now, his lips baring his teeth, the gurgle 
 changed into a snarl. 
 
 He was waiting for the man to touch the 
 gate. 
 
 Some one at the corner gave an irrepress- 
 ible cry of warning. Still the man came on. 
 He kept his hands in his pockets, but he 
 thrust his head forward menacingly. 
 
 " Do you think I'm afraid of you? " he 
 asked, face to face with John Frenchy now, 
 and he took another step. His coat brushed 
 the gate. It was the signal. 
 
 John Frenchy partly closed his eyes for 
 the half-second it took him to throw back 
 his head and give out one terrific roar. Then 
 he rose on his hind legs and leaped high.
 
 116 John o' Partletts' 
 
 But not at the gate, not forward; he sank 
 in his tracks. 
 
 Something had happened, something 
 like magic, like lightning from heaven! 
 
 '* I'm not afraid of you! " the man had 
 roared. " That for yours! " He had 
 slipped his right hand from his pocket ; there 
 was a flash, a report, and the great leaping 
 body fell. 
 
 There was silence for a moment, then 
 those on the corner gave a shout, and the 
 little man reached over with a flourish and 
 deliberately threw the gate wide open. 
 
 He thought he had killed John Frenchy; 
 but he had not. 
 
 John Frenchy lay still on his side ; a burn- 
 ing, fiery pain gripped his shoulder and 
 tingled through his whole body, and he could 
 smell his own blood as it came welling up 
 and trickled over his coarse hair on to the 
 path. A dizziness and a blindness had come 
 over him. But through it all, under it all, 
 he knew that he was beaten. He knew that 
 he would never protect that gate for his mas-
 
 John Goes to Partletts' 117 
 
 ter, or his master's property again. The 
 man had won ! And, deep down in his being, 
 the fierce pride which had held itself so 
 high, was lowered; it lay maimed and 
 wounded, just as John Frenchy's great body 
 lay maimed and wounded on the little path. 
 
 And just at that moment there came an- 
 other shout from the corner ; and here came 
 the Partlettsville people crowding along the 
 sidewalk, stepping where and how they chose, 
 as they had never done before. And at the 
 same moment the man entered the gate, came 
 up the path and stopped. 
 
 John Frenchy had heard the shout, he had 
 heard the approaching feet; he seemed al- 
 ready to feel his enemies around him look- 
 ing at him in his humiliation and defeat. 
 He rose with a growl and a fierce snarl, 
 gnashing his teeth with pain and fury, blood 
 and foam gathering on his lips. He would 
 take his anguish away from the sight of 
 man! If he must die, he would die alone I 
 
 Great hulk though he was, he had always 
 been quick on his feet, and he had risen with
 
 118 John o' Partletts' 
 
 such a desperate swiftness that the man had 
 no time to cover him with his pistol before 
 the great beast, lunging past him, had stag- 
 gered through the gate. 
 
 The Partlettsville people sprang back. 
 
 But Grus Schaftsmire, seeing that retreat- 
 ing back and the staggering legs, felt his 
 animosity arise within him. He had a stick 
 in his hand, and he reached out with it and 
 dealt the dog a blow on his hind quarters. 
 He had scarcely done it, however, before his 
 face turned pale. Fear seized him. Once 
 before he had been too rash! And he 
 sprang across the pavement and caught the 
 fence rail, ready for a leap. 
 
 But John Frenchy was far beyond retalia- 
 tion. His great head was sagging; it lolled 
 slightly from side to side with the desperate 
 effort he made to draw his heavy paws after 
 him. Slowly, slowly he went, leaving a trail 
 of blood in the snow which had now covered 
 the ground with its fine white mantle. 
 
 Those behind sprang into the little yard, 
 roamed about curiously, displaced the great
 
 John Goes to Partletts' 119 
 
 hogshead and kicked it rolling ignominiously 
 into the road, talked over the adventure and 
 stood about, watching the driver unpack the 
 furniture. 
 
 Then the energetic little red-headed man 
 shouted : 
 
 " Say come and lend a hand! Help us 
 in with this stuff, can't you? It's comin' on 
 to snow, an' gettin* dark already! " 
 
 But suddenly the Partlettsville people all 
 remembered that they had to go home. To 
 " lend a hand " was not much in their line. 
 
 Late that night a lantern could be seen 
 glimmering along the side of the hill toward 
 Partlettsville. It was carried by Gus Schafts- 
 mire, he, Michaelson and others having gone 
 out, " to track the beast and finish him, it 
 bein' unsafe to leave a creature like that, 
 half -mad and wounded, hangin' round." 
 
 Through the white snow they could track 
 him readily enough, not only by the great 
 paw marks, but by the blood stains at regular 
 intervals marking the way.
 
 120 John o' Partletts' 
 
 " An' here he must have thought he was 
 about done for ! ' ' exclaimed Gus, pointing to 
 a little well of blood in the snow. Evidently 
 the dog had paused here, and perhaps lain 
 down. 
 
 They tracked him straight to the little 
 stream; and there the trail ceased. 
 
 They crossed on the stepping-stones and 
 examined the opposite side, but, though they 
 thought they saw a few paw marks, the blood 
 stains ceased. Whether the icy water had 
 staunched the flow of blood, or whether he 
 was hanging about somewhere under the 
 shadow of the bank, they could not guess. 
 At any rate, it was bitter cold; the wind, 
 which had been rising all day, was now 
 raging, and the snow, which had held up 
 for a few hours, was again falling. It was 
 going to be a night of it; they had made a 
 brave search, and thought they had best go 
 home. 
 
 " Most like," remarked Michaelson, as he 
 set his face doggedly to meet the rising gale, 
 " most like this cold '11 finish him anyhow."
 
 John Goes to Partletts' 121 
 
 At just about the same hour a dark, lonely 
 form could be seen working its way slowly, 
 painfully, toward the brow of the hill. Up 
 through the thick, bare bushes, pausing, 
 panting, groaning. 
 
 Now the brow of the hill was gained, now 
 the fir trees, now the big pine and the little 
 one. Then a turn, and just beyond a light 
 gleamed. Toward this the lonely form 
 struggled, nearer and nearer. At last it 
 reached it, stood before the window from 
 which it streamed, and then, suddenly, with 
 a frantic effort, reared itself, and stood so 
 for an instant, its head revealed in the square 
 of light ; a great head, earless, bloody, from 
 which hung ice and frozen mud, and at the 
 same moment an animal cry went up ; a cry 
 of torture, humiliation, bitterness and ap- 
 peal.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 A PLAN IS FRUSTRATED 
 
 EVERY one in Partlettsville wondered what 
 had become of John Frenchy. The storm 
 proved to be a severe one. It lasted two 
 days, and when it was over everything was 
 covered deep with snow. Some thought he 
 must be buried under a drift, but Gus 
 Schaftsmire and his companions believed 
 that he had died in the little stream, and that 
 his great body was lying in some deep hollow 
 under its now frozen surface. 
 
 However it might be, it was not more than 
 a nine days' wonder, scarcely that, and they 
 soon turned themselves to other affairs. 
 
 Mr. Carruthers, at this time, set his 
 thoughts upon the task of getting Jim from 
 Witch Beevish. He had a real, almost in- 
 stinctive dislike for the old woman, which 
 
 122
 
 A Plan Is Frustrated 123 
 
 he conscientiously tried to smother, but his 
 disapproval of her he felt to be justifiable. 
 
 When she came to Partlettsville some 
 years before, got her bit of a house, and 
 made her garden, he, in the regular order 
 of things, had called on her, though she 
 had not entered his church. From the first, 
 on account of her strange ways, she was 
 ridiculed by the Partlettsville people, who 
 openly proclaimed her to be crazy. 
 
 Her reception of the minister was neither 
 cordial, nor markedly respectful. 
 
 " Madam," he said, at the close of a not 
 very satisfying interview, " it is a regret to 
 me that you do not worship." 
 
 " And why," she asked, with a quick flash 
 in her eyes, " do you assume that I do not 
 worship? " 
 
 He replied gravely and emphatically: " I 
 must assume as much ; you have never come 
 to the church! " 
 
 " And do you," she cried out suddenly, 
 " imagine that it is necessary to sit between 
 four walls in order to worship ! Look ! " she
 
 124 John o' Partletts' 
 
 cried, pointing him to the window; " what 
 is that above you? Heaven! And what is 
 that beneath? Earth! Why not stand upon 
 this, and look up at that? Look at what is 
 about you, the trees, the flowers, the birds ; 
 they are speaking to you! But you," she 
 exclaimed with increasing excitement, * ' must 
 feel that before you can worship you must 
 shut yourself into a church with painted 
 windows, and stand in a box you call a 
 pulpit! " 
 
 " Madam! " exclaimed the minister. 
 
 " Look about you, man! " she cried. 
 ' * Broaden your vision ! .What you see and 
 feel may be true enough, but see more, feel 
 more! And help others to see and feel! " 
 
 Henry Carruthers stood still, his slender 
 shoulders thrown back, and as he looked 
 down at her there was a flash in his dark 
 eyes that matched the light in hers. 
 
 " You tell me to broaden my vision," he 
 said, his firm lips tightly drawn. " Let me 
 ask you in turn, is your vision so narrow 
 that it sees not the church in its dignity and
 
 A Plan Is Frustrated 125 
 
 great power? In the righteousness and truth 
 in which it has stood through the years! 
 The church of God! " he went on, his voice 
 rising, " the haven of those who love her; 
 but the scourge and punishment of those who 
 dare to revile her! " 
 
 The old woman took a step nearer and 
 touched his sleeve. 
 
 " Down there in that church," she said, 
 pointing toward Partlettsville, " you cherish 
 the belief that there is no one outside of it 
 who is good enough to be treated as a human 
 being, no one who has a right to live on God's 
 earth in his own way. I read that belief in 
 your eyes, I read it in the faces of those 
 people down there! Because I hear the 
 Spirit of Truth in a thousand voices, under 
 the open heaven, and do not enter your four 
 walls to seek it, you would make of me an 
 outcast! Until you admit my worship to be 
 a true worship, I will never admit yours ! ' ' 
 
 They parted in anger. It could scarcely 
 be otherwise. Henry Carruthers was angry, 
 but he was wounded, too. He was accus-
 
 126 John o' Partletts' 
 
 tomed to be treated with the greatest respect 
 as the representative of the church, execu- 
 ting its mission, bearing its burden, which 
 he did indeed, ever conscientiously, to the 
 very limit of his endurance. Now, the 
 Witch's behavior seemed to insult him, not 
 so much as a man, but as a minister, and that 
 thought was like a poison. After this he 
 could scarcely think of her without a quick- 
 ening of the pulse, and when tales of her 
 were repeated to him, his face always be- 
 came rigid. Restraining himself, he said 
 little; but the expression of his face was 
 easily read by those about him, and : 
 
 " Mr. Carruthers, hisself, ain't got no use 
 for her! " was a very damning comment 
 upon the Witch. 
 
 Now, it happened that Kitty Merry- 
 weather no longer did a day's work for 
 Witch Beevish. 
 
 Down in Partlettsville Kitty said that the 
 way was too long in the middle of Winter. 
 But the truth was, very high words had
 
 A Plan Is Frustrated 127 
 
 passed between them over Kitty's Willie, to 
 whom the Witch had applied terms of the 
 most uncomplimentary nature. Kitty there- 
 upon declared that as long as the sun shone 
 in heaven, she would never do another day's 
 work for her. The Witch made answer that 
 she didn't wish her to! The door had 
 slammed, and Kitty gone down the hill for 
 the last time. And all the while little Jim 
 sat screwed up on the bench beside the 
 kitchen stove, with eyes as big as saucers, 
 most uncomfortably conscious of the fact 
 that he was the bone of contention. 
 
 As for Kitty, her very tenderest spot was 
 touched. Her Willie was the light of her 
 eyes. Maggie, well, she had her faults, 
 she wouldn't deny! But Willie! She saw 
 him in the light of such an extreme par- 
 tiality that her laudations of him were oft- 
 times so far drawn that the neighbors had 
 much ado to keep straight faces. Whatever 
 was pure, lovely, and of good report, apper- 
 tained to Willie. And even if a thing were 
 reprehensible in itself, the moment Willie
 
 128 John o' Partletts' 
 
 did it, it became right. Facts were ignored. 
 Willie was brave, handsome, manly, the fu- 
 ture hope of the family. And certainly he 
 was the only creature in the world against 
 whom she never exercised her tongne. 
 
 It can be imagined then that she carried 
 an angry heart away from Partletts'. 
 
 Kitty was not one to keep her feelings to 
 herself ; she could never be accused of pining 
 in thought. She desired a vent for her in- 
 dignation and found it in railing at the 
 Witch. She had always had wonderful sto- 
 ries to tell of the old woman, but now they 
 became thrice wonderful, and the awful 
 things Witch Beevish said and did were 
 recounted daily to an audience that found 
 almost its only diversion in listening with 
 country credulity to gossip and tales. 
 
 She had secretly been irritated at seeing 
 Jim snug and made much of; and his word 
 being taken against her Willie was a thing 
 past human endurance ! ' ' Huh ! ' ' she would 
 say to herself, snapping her eyes, and tossing 
 up her head.
 
 A Plan Is Frustrated 129 
 
 She formed a plan which was beautifully 
 simple. It was just this: Steal Jim from 
 the Witch! The minister disapproved her 
 having him ; and if once he could be securely 
 laid hold of, it would save Mr. Carruthera 
 a sight of trouble. 
 
 There were those who quite agreed with 
 her, especially as the thing might be done 
 easily. True, it was seldom that the Witch 
 ever disturbed the dust of Partlettsville ; 
 she was known to do all her trading at Ab- 
 bottsville, a town two miles on the other side 
 of the hill of Partletts * ; for she accused 
 the Schaftsmires of dishonesty, the grocer 
 also was a cheat in her estimation, Louisa 
 Myers she distrusted. " Seems like we ain't 
 good enough for her, no way we fix it ! " the 
 tradespeople all declared, and loved her ac- 
 cordingly. It was true that, as they " fixed 
 it," they were generally disobliging, and by 
 no means generally honest. But such little 
 foibles should be charitably overlooked! 
 
 She did, however, occasionally drive 
 through Partlettsville, and, as we have seen,
 
 130 John o' Partletts' 
 
 sometimes left her carriage. Such an occa- 
 sion was to be watched for; some one was 
 to engage her in talk; " rile her up; " then 
 Kitty's Willie, who was strong and well able 
 to execute a manreuvre behind other people's 
 backs, would snatch little Jim from the car- 
 riage, he would be scurried off by those 
 waiting to assist in the adventure ; and vivid 
 pictures were drawn of the .Witch's futile 
 rage, and much loud laughter went into the 
 making of the plan. 
 
 Accordingly, one bright morning, about six 
 weeks after the big storm, when Witch Bee- 
 vish's equipage was to be seen slowly sidling 
 down the incline of Partletts', word went 
 round, and there was great eagerness, and 
 a quick gathering of those who were to be 
 ringleaders, and a still larger gathering of 
 those who were to be audience. 
 
 " She's comin'! " was whispered, and the 
 admonition given: " Don't look too inter- 
 ested! " 
 
 Groups of Partlettsvillites lounged along, 
 pretending to be intent upon nothing, but
 
 A Plan Is Frustrated 131 
 
 secretly nudging each other. It was exciting 
 and exhilarating; and the Witch came on! 
 
 She came on, turned the corner into the 
 high street, and she and her equipage stood 
 out in full view. Surreptitious glances were 
 taken. There was Jim just as had been 
 hoped, sitting beside her on the front seat. 
 But what was this, stalking behind the car- 
 riage? Partlettsville looked and gasped. 
 
 The great, hairy creature, in form as big 
 as a calf, was familiar too familiar to 
 their eyes. Familiar that enormous head, 
 slightly lowered, surrounded by the ruff of 
 coarse hair; familiar that scowling fore- 
 head, the fierce eyes, and lips a trifle parted. 
 
 The strangeness, the unexpectedness of it 
 struck them dumb. The spokesman, who was 
 to " rile " up the Witch, was silent; the 
 audience melted; and Willie, the bold kid- 
 napper, came not forth. 
 
 Meantime the strange procession passed 
 on up the street, the old horse limping lei- 
 surely, the Witch in her striped robe, with 
 little Jim seated securely beside her; and,
 
 132 John o' Partletts' 
 
 pawing slowly after, John, John Frenchy 
 no longer, but John o' Partletts', hideous, 
 huge, with a certain gaunt majesty of his 
 own, and with a pride revived and whole. A 
 dog with an abiding-place, a new trust, and 
 a friend.
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 A LIGHT GOES OUT IN THE VALLEY 
 
 MB. CAERUTHERS had long proposed to him- 
 self to take up the affair of Jim definitely. 
 
 But this Winter much slipped past him 
 which he had purposed to do. The truth was 
 he worked with a divided heart. Strive as 
 he would, draw himself together as he would, 
 he often found himself distrait. And old 
 Elsa, watching him, would shake her head. 
 
 " The Maister can no blind himself 
 longer, " she thought. " The thing's become 
 too plain for mortal eye to pass over." 
 
 What Elsa saw, the Carruthers children 
 felt with the quick sensitiveness of repressed, 
 responsible children, and gravely went about 
 with a certain sad meaning in their looks. 
 Even the brightness of little Margy's humor 
 seemed dimmed. In the midst of laughter 
 she would stop, put her hand on Elsa's face, 
 133
 
 134 John o' Partletts' 
 
 and look inquiringly into the old woman's 
 deep-set eyes. 
 
 The neighbors, too, shook their heads when, 
 they passed the rectory; and on Sunday 
 mornings glanced at the pastor's pew to see 
 if his little lady were able to be out. 
 
 For every one loved Evelyn Carruthers. 
 She was one of those rare beings who can 
 pass through life in even a small, censorious 
 community without giving offence. Very 
 gentle, very quiet, keeping to herself, and 
 dutifully tending her own affairs, which were 
 multitudinous ; giving assistance, but seldom 
 advice ; rather timid, but capable and tender 
 in her own home, she offered little oppor- 
 tunity for criticism, even from the most carp- 
 ing. There were perhaps two or three who, 
 on occasion, remarked that: " 'Twas a pity 
 the parson had not a more forcible wife! 
 A man in his position needed a woman who 
 could take a stand! " Be that as it may, 
 Evelyn Carruthers did the best she could, 
 and if limitations she had, they were those 
 of nature, not of will.
 
 A Light Goes Out in the Valley 135 
 
 Indeed, she had done the best she could for 
 so long that now a great weariness was com- 
 ing over her. She grew paler and frailer 
 each day, but she kept herself ever at her 
 post, ever at her round of ceaseless and 
 pressing duties. For, in her life, duty had 
 so long been the watchword that to care for, 
 or save herself, would have seemed to her a 
 self-indulgence. 
 
 Her husband at first refused to see the 
 signs that others saw ; he felt that this blow 
 could not fall on him. Strong, self-reliant 
 man though he was, he unconsciously evaded 
 the bitter truth, until at last the time came 
 when he could evade it no longer. 
 
 The time came when she could no longer 
 tend her duties. And then the dreadful day 
 came when she did not rise from her bed. 
 She was ill ; the fact had to be acknowledged. 
 The house became quiet. And then the chil- 
 dren could no longer go and come in their 
 mother's room. And after that, having once 
 laid down the burden of care and responsi- 
 bility, she sank so rapidly that even those
 
 136 John o' Partletts' 
 
 who had watched her closely were sur- 
 prised. 
 
 11 It's no long she'll be here now! " Elsa 
 said to herself in the silent kitchen. " No 
 long! " 
 
 And no long it was. 
 
 Winter had slipped by. Skies were tinged 
 with the pink and promise of Spring, snows 
 were melting everywhere, little streams run- 
 ning, and over on the south side of the hill 
 of Partletts' the first snowdrops were sha- 
 king their delicate white cups in the chill 
 breeze, and here and there a forward violet 
 could be seen pushing up through the leaves 
 to open a brave blue eye upon a rather in- 
 hospitable world. 
 
 Just at this time, when the days were a 
 bit longer and brighter, Evelyn Carruthers' 
 dark eyes closed. She had brought eight 
 lives into the world, with the coming of a 
 ninth, her own life which had always been 
 much like a frail, but clear and cheerful light 
 was quenched. There was a faint cry
 
 A Light Goes Out in the Valley 137 
 
 and then a very deep stillness. Her baby 
 breathed but once, and died with her. 
 
 The children, accustomed to self-control, 
 quietly did old Elsa's bidding; and grave 
 as grown people, they made no demonstra- 
 tion of the pain that wrung their hearts all 
 the more deeply because it must be smoth- 
 ered. All their lives they had been accus- 
 tomed to a father's discipline, but they had 
 also been accustomed to a mother's love. 
 And now, what were they to do without the 
 love! 
 
 Only little Margy lifted her voice in loud 
 weeping, voicing the dreadful ache, and 
 would not be comforted. 
 
 And the tall, grave man sat in his study, 
 his head in his hands, his lips set. No one 
 came to him, no one dared speak to him ; he 
 wished no one to speak to him. He had 
 always stood alone, his rigid gravity setting 
 a wall around him. Only to her had his 
 nature gone out; only to her had he ever 
 spoken as from heart to heart. And now a
 
 138 John o' Partletts' 
 
 terrible loneliness, a fearful void seemed to 
 open within him and all about him. Alone, 
 in the relentless presence of death, the dark- 
 ness and mystery ! 
 
 But no! Life with its responsibilities, its 
 hundred duties, was calling! He had no 
 right to loiter, scarcely to pause, over a per- 
 sonal grief. Already personal feeling had 
 stood between him and his work. For this 
 last Winter he had been but a half-hearted 
 laborer. Conscience spoke with a harsh 
 voice. He closed his teeth: " Though He 
 slay me! " he murmured; crushed back the 
 questioning, the tears and pain, and rose, 
 pale, not to bow before his grief again. 
 
 No one ever saw him shed a tear. He con- 
 ducted the services himself over his wife 
 without a tremor in his voice, without a 
 softened glance or touch of emotion, like a 
 man of iron. His congregation were dumb; 
 and his children wiped their eyes furtively, 
 as if they were committing a crime. 
 
 Upon the hill of Partletts' an old woman 
 stood as the bells tolled. She had plucked
 
 A Light Goes Out in the Valley 139 
 
 a few early snowdrops and violets; and if 
 the little darkey boy and great dog who stood 
 beside her had looked into her eyes they 
 would have seen them to be dim. 
 
 As the bells tolled, she stretched out her 
 hand and threw the flowers toward the val- 
 ley, as if for a token, and the dimness of 
 her eyes cleared as they brightened and took 
 fire. 
 
 " Had you given her more of these, Henry 
 Carruthers, and less of that same doleful 
 tolling, you might have had her with you 
 longer," she murmured. 
 
 She stood still, looking down into the val- 
 ley. 
 
 The dreary toll of the bells, and the run- 
 ning of the stream around Partlettsville were 
 the only sound that came to her. The bare 
 little town lay outspread in the pale sun- 
 shine, and at the far end she saw the church, 
 with its door standing open, and beyond, in 
 the graveyard, a heap of soil thrown up be- 
 side an open grave. 
 
 She recalled how once the parson's little
 
 140 John o' Partletts' 
 
 lady had found her way up to Partletts ', and 
 she seemed to see her bright hair, and hear 
 her pleased voice exclaiming : ' * Oh but 
 this is a garden ! ' ' 
 
 * * Poor girl ! ' ' she murmured, with full 
 eyes. ' ' Poor girl ! ' ' For, to the old woman, 
 she who had died down in the valley at the 
 age of thirty-five seemed in reality but a 
 girl indeed.
 
 " BROUGHT HER CHAIR OUT ON HER LITTLE PIAZZA AND SAT 
 THERE ROCKING AND GOSSIPING."
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 SPRING 
 
 IN Partlettsville the daisies were opening 
 and the hardy honeysuckle was throwing out 
 its long, irregular flowers. The clover was 
 green and the lilacs were budding. Along 
 the high street storm doors were taken down, 
 and in Louisa Myers' shop- window mufflers 
 and mittens gave place to a string of white 
 cotton gloves and some very red paper kites. 
 Kitty Merryweather, in the late afternoon, 
 brought her chair out on her little piazza and 
 sat there rocking and gossiping. Eows of 
 ducks waddled cheerfully in the puddles 
 along the high street, and boys sat on fence 
 palings exchanging cat-calls and whistles. 
 
 Partlettsville was at its cheerfullest ; talk 
 and gossip went round, and, as is usual in 
 the Spring, when the ground is opened and 
 
 141
 
 142 John o' Partletts' 
 
 planting begins, there was a good bit to talk 
 about. 
 
 Much of the talk, however, centred about 
 the hill of Partletts' and the old Witch. 
 That person, ever aggressive when her sa- 
 cred domain of Partletts' was encroached 
 upon, had been aggravating her neighbors 
 on this side of the hill by preventing them 
 from having what they regarded as their 
 rights, and assuming authority where she, on 
 her side, most certainly had no right to do so. 
 
 It has been told how Michaelson stole forth 
 at night to cut what wood he wanted, in order, 
 as he would say, to avoid a " talkin' match 
 with the Witch! " But there were others, 
 too, who went up the hill and felled a tree 
 when they liked, and, being of bolder metal, 
 went in the daytime and turned a deaf ear 
 to the Witch's " jawin'." These had, more 
 than once, carried out their design with tri- 
 umph. 
 
 There were those, too, who, in the Spring, 
 went up to Partletts' with game-bag and gun, 
 and returned with more than one fine brace
 
 Spring 143 
 
 of rabbits. And this was also one of the 
 Witch's pet aversions. She would rush out 
 in her red headdress, following the men 
 through, the wood, ordering them off " her 
 property," and asking how they dared come 
 here. 
 
 " In Winter there's not one of you would 
 put your foot to climb this hill ! Let Spring 
 come, and easy walking, and here you are 
 with your axes and your guns, to shoot the 
 creatures, and cut the trees! " 
 
 Sometimes the men mocked; sometimes 
 they paid no attention. In any case they 
 did as they pleased, killed what they wanted 
 and went away. 
 
 But this Spring all this was changed! 
 
 Michaelson, cutting a tree one night on the 
 lower side of Partletts', suddenly heard a 
 whistle, then a rush ; the next moment a pair 
 of eyes were glaring at him through the dark- 
 ness and a voice cried: "Go! as fast as you 
 can, or my dog will kill you ! " And he went. 
 
 So it was at all times. Nothing could stir 
 on that hill but what, crashing through the
 
 144 John o' Partletts' 
 
 underbrush, would come a great form; fol- 
 lowing would appear a red headdress, and, 
 in the rear, a little black face, eyes rolling 
 in wonder and excitement. 
 
 Not a tree was felled, not a rabbit shot on 
 Partletts' this Spring; and great and vehe- 
 ment was the anger accordingly. 
 
 The Witch meantime was most trium- 
 phant. She loved to accomplish her will by 
 force of arms. To say to her enemies : ' ' Do 
 this ! ' ' and see it done. In John o ' Partletts ' 
 she had such an ally as she had scarcely 
 dreamed of, and he proved so remarkably 
 intelligent that he understood every word 
 she spoke to him. She had but to motion the 
 great beast and her will was done as if she 
 had been an army with banners. For the 
 first time she was supreme ruler of her do- 
 main! 
 
 But in Partlettsville there was more and 
 more anger and much talk of shooting the 
 big beast; but this was not so easily come 
 at. As Gus Schaftsmire said: 
 
 11 Them three travels in a trio! If you
 
 Spring 145 
 
 winged one you'd most likely wing the wrong 
 one. And she does it on purpose the cun- 
 nin' old fox! " 
 
 In this way a real feud sprang up between 
 the Witch and the Partlettsvillites ; it was 
 bitter on both sides, and many the threats 
 that were uttered. 
 
 The Witch never came into Partlettsville 
 now, not through fear, she being one who 
 feared not the dust of battle, but to prove 
 her contempt and scorn. When she went 
 abroad, it was to Abbottsville, with her old 
 horse and her two retainers, to get her sup- 
 plies. She always locked up her tiny cottage 
 carefully, fastened all the shutters, and ad- 
 justed what she called her " trap," an ar- 
 rangement by which, if any one should break 
 into her front door, a well balanced flat-iron 
 would fall on his head. The old woman had 
 a childlike faith in the most simple and prim- 
 itive arrangements, and this invention gave 
 her a most wonderful sense of security. 
 
 More than once she met some of her ene- 
 mies upon the road, who threatened to go up
 
 146 John o' Partletts' 
 
 to Partletts' and " raise the roof " in her 
 absence. 
 
 11 And if you do," she cried back, " re- 
 member this something awful will happen 
 to you ! I have warned you ! ' ' 
 
 She was thinking of the flat-iron; but she 
 threw such a dramatic horror into her voice 
 that she made them think of witches, con- 
 jurations and spells.
 
 CHAPTER XH 
 
 THE LOSING OF JIM 
 
 ONE warm, showery afternoon toward mid- 
 summer Gus Schaftsmire was driving along 
 a side road near Abbottsville when he saw, 
 passing along the Abbottsville turnpike, the 
 old Witch in her carriage, with the great dog 
 following and Jim was not with them ! 
 
 He drew up, waited until she was out of 
 sight, then, gaining the turnpike himself, 
 whipped up his horse and came galloping 
 into Partlettsville. 
 
 He jumped out of his wagon and threw the 
 reins over the horse's neck. 
 
 " Come on! " he cried out to Michaelson, 
 who chanced to be passing along the side- 
 walk. "I'm goin' up yonder to get the little 
 nigger! " 
 
 147
 
 148 John o' Partletts' 
 
 Old Schaftsmire came running out of the 
 shop in his shirt sleeves and stained butch- 
 er's apron. 
 
 " No, you ain't! " he shouted. " You're 
 goin' to stay right here an' help me unload 
 this wagon! " 
 
 " Think so? " cried Gus with a grin. 
 ' ' Look to it yourself then ! ' ' And he sprang 
 round on the other side of the horse. For 
 he was a most unfilial son ; the old man had 
 a hot temper, and not infrequently he and 
 Gussie came to violent fisticuffs. 
 
 " John Frenchy," continued Gus trium- 
 phantly, " is on the road to Abbottsville with 
 his dear, his best beloved Missis, an' the little 
 black one is up there by his lonesome. Come 
 on it 's the chanct ! An' there ain't no time 
 to stand considering neither, because, slow as 
 she goes with that old cripple of hers, I had 
 to be slower still gittin' back, on account of 
 my load! " 
 
 " Slow! " cried out his father. " It looks 
 like it, don't it! " pointing to the lathered 
 animal in the shafts. " An' if you'd found-
 
 The Losing of Jim 140 
 
 ered my horse for one o' your danged 
 tricks " 
 
 " Never mind him," Gussie interrupted, 
 jerking his head toward his father. " Let 
 him jaw to hisself ! You run as I tell you, 
 git some fellers together, an' a' axe, an* 
 a crowbar! " And he dodged past his father 
 into the shop, out again, and up the street 
 with an energy and quickness that would 
 have pleased the old man much could he have 
 seen it applied to business. 
 
 An enthusiastic group gathered; Willie 
 Merryweather foremost among them. 
 
 " Is you sure you see the dog, Gus? " he 
 rigorously inquired. 
 
 " Yes," replied Gus, who was in high, fa- 
 cetious humor, " jiggin' along the road to 
 Abbottsville. He won't be back for an hour 
 to come. So forward's the cry an' call! ' 
 
 Forthwith the procession moved upon 
 Partletts', the axe and crowbar appearing 
 according to Gus's martial directions. 
 
 There was a flutter along the high street, 
 windows were opened, questions asked:
 
 150 John o' Partletts' 
 
 11 Say! " shouted some wit, " where yo' 
 goin'? To hunt wild Injuns? " 
 
 li No! " yelled back Gussie. " Tame Af- 
 rican hunt ! ' ' Which repartee brought down 
 a shout of laughter. 
 
 Old Schaftsmire stood in the street, his 
 wagon to unload, much disgruntled, and vig- 
 orously admonishing his son to : " Leave the 
 old crone alone, and tend to his own busi- 
 ness! " 
 
 Soon the party was out of sight, lost in 
 the leafy shade of Partletts'. They sprang 
 up the side of the hill. The little brook ran 
 by them, clear, over large round stones ; and 
 behind lay Partlettsville baked and bare, the 
 old willows drooping in the heat and covered 
 with dust. But above all was fresh and cool. 
 A breeze that swept the hill-top kept every- 
 thing in motion, and the sunshine made a 
 hundred changing patterns as it flickered 
 over the shaded, grey trunks of the beech 
 trees. 
 
 Now they reached the big pine and the 
 little one, and plunged down on the other
 
 The Losing of Jim 151 
 
 side. Partlettsville was out of sight in an 
 instant; and then suddenly through a break 
 in the trees the Witch's cottage and garden 
 appeared. 
 
 The garden was full of flowers. It lay with 
 the afternoon sun upon it, just as when Jim 
 had first seen it, only now it was in its mid- 
 summer glory, and, how carefully laid out, 
 how perfectly planned so that each plant 
 should receive the right amount of shade, 
 the right amount of sunshine, only the old 
 Witch knew, and its own perfectly successful 
 beauty testified. The verbenas were in full 
 bloom, two splendid beds of pink, purple, 
 white and crimson. In the very centre rose 
 the Witch's August lilies, swaying delicately 
 on their graceful stems, and flanking them 
 on either side, a glorious patch of salvia. 
 
 It was no wonder that the parson's little 
 lady had exclaimed: " This is a garden! " 
 
 But Gus and his followers paused neither 
 to observe nor admire. They jumped over 
 the flower beds and surrounded the tiny cot- 
 tage, calling to each other, and examining
 
 152 John o' Partletts' 
 
 doors and windows. Everything down-stairs 
 was securely fastened, but it was a warm 
 day, and one of the upper windows stood 
 open. They had scarcely perceived this be- 
 fore what should appear, framed in it, but a 
 little black, terrified face ! 
 
 There was a shout. 
 
 1 ' We 've got him ! "We Ve got him ! ' ' 
 
 Little Jim's heart must have stood quite 
 still at the cry. 
 
 Then there were demands for a ladder. 
 One was found, set up, and Gus and Willie 
 Merryweather were mounting in a flash. 
 
 Poor Jim had nowhere to hide ; in the tiny 
 cottage there was no such thing as a closet 
 so he ran behind a bed, hugged the post 
 in both his arms, and as his enemies ap- 
 peared in the room, cried out with all his 
 might : 
 
 " I ain't a gwine! Leaf me be! I tells 
 yo' I ain't a gwine! " 
 
 And if anything could have added to Willie 
 Merryweather 's delight in the whole adven- 
 ture, it was this scene.
 
 The Losing of Jim 153 
 
 He began to rock about the room, doubled 
 over with laughter. 
 
 " Oh, Gus," he cried, mimicking the little 
 darkey's voice, " what we gwine do now? 
 'Cause he says he ain't a gwine! He ain't 
 a gwine! " 
 
 Gus gave vent to one irrepressible guffaw, 
 then he settled to business. 
 
 " Funny, eh? " he exclaimed, eying Willie 
 sarcastically. " Not so funny, though, if the 
 old woman gits back before we're clean out 
 o ' this here ! Here, sonny ! "to Jim. ' * Turn 
 loose! .We ain't goin' to take the bed-post 
 it's you we want! " 
 
 And Gus, accustomed daily to shoulder- 
 ing whole beeves and muttons, made 
 nothing of dislodging Jim from his 
 abiding-place and hoisting him over his 
 shoulder. 
 
 Those below held the ladder steady, while 
 Willie, from above, held Jim's hands to pre- 
 vent him from seizing the window-ledge, 
 which he had a tendency desperately to do 
 while explaining:
 
 154 John o' Partletts' 
 
 " I b 'longs 'long o' Mis' Beevish! I don't 
 b 'longs 'long o ' you ! ' ' 
 
 Once on the ground, there was self-con- 
 gratulation, the thing having been done so 
 quickly and easily that they were surprised 
 themselves. But there was no time to loiter. 
 Once upon solid ground, Gus's vein of humor 
 came uppermost once more. 
 
 " Stop your clackin' now! " he remarked 
 to Jim. " You don't really want to stop 
 here, you know. You only think you do, an' 
 that's along o' bein' bewitched! What you 
 really want is to come along o* us! So just 
 get that before your mind, an' it'll save you 
 a lot o' uneasiness." 
 
 Jim could not see it in this light, and find- 
 ing his face set toward Partlettsville, and 
 himself forcibly conducted in that detested 
 direction, he began to cry out and draw back. 
 
 " I tells yo' I ain't a gwine! " he reiter- 
 ated helplessly, in the face of " gwine " as 
 fast as his captors could haul him along. 
 " Leaf me be, I tells yo'! " And he caught 
 hold of the corner of the house, the tree
 
 The Losing of Jim 155 
 
 trunks, and even the twigs and branches, to 
 hold himself back. 
 
 To no avail. He was hurried, scurried, 
 scampered down the hill. 
 
 "When they came to the very last slope they 
 scampered down so swiftly, and with so much 
 loud laughter, that they looked like an hilari- 
 ous picnic party returning from a successful 
 outing. 
 
 The only sober member was little Jim. 
 He was very sober indeed. He had given up 
 crying; it did no good, and, besides, he was 
 too frightened. He just felt himself rushed 
 along, helpless and abandoned to his fate. 
 
 And so they scampered into Partlettsville. 
 It was almost dark, it having been late when 
 they started out. And immediately the ques- 
 tion arose as to what would be done with Jim.
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 JIM PROVES A PROBLEM 
 
 As they rounded the corner that led into 
 the high street some one chanced to glance 
 behind. 
 
 * * Look ! ' ' was the cry. 
 
 High up on the ridge of Partletts' a lan- 
 tern was to be seen waving. It was already 
 so dark up there among the trees that they 
 could see no figure; but there was not a 
 doubt that any one standing on that height 
 could see them plainly as they rushed in a 
 group over the bare little sidewalk. 
 
 ''It's a signal! She's wavin' us back! " 
 some one cried. 
 
 "Already!" gasped Gus. "I ain't 
 thought she 'd had time to get back so quick I 
 See here, she'll be down on us ! She ain't 
 goin' to stand there wavin' no lantern! 
 She'll be comin' on! " 
 
 156
 
 Jim Proves a Problem 157 
 
 " She's comin' on now! " shouted some 
 one. 
 
 And, sure enough, the light had begun to 
 descend. It even seemed, in the stillness of 
 the gathering dusk, that they could hear a 
 crashing movement among the twigs and 
 underbrush high above them. The sound 
 was but too suggestive. 
 
 " Come on! Come a-runninM " 
 
 Gus Schaftsmire began to pant. Willie 
 Merryweather's face, losing the bright red 
 of pleasurable triumph, became pale. Hang- 
 ers on, who had hastened to join the party 
 when it came picnic fashion down the hill, 
 melted away. 
 
 11 We must git him into a house an' our- 
 selves into a house! " cried Michaelson. 
 
 But into what house? 
 
 Kitty Merryweather's was the nearest, and 
 into it they bundled Jim, Willie throwing 
 open the door with a kick. 
 
 Kitty ran out into the hall, a lamp in her 
 hand, a broad grin on her face. 
 
 ' * Well, if you ain 't got him ! ' ' she ex-
 
 158 John o' Partletts' 
 
 claimed admiringly. * ' I says to myself when 
 I hears Willie was gone up with them, I 
 says to myself: * If darin'ness '11 fetch him, 
 they'll 'ave him back within the hour! ' 
 
 But her son did not look as pleased as 
 might be expected at these laudations. 
 
 " Yes," he replied, making toward the 
 shelter of the inner room. ' * We Ve got him. 
 But she's after us already. Makin' down the 
 hill, an' her dog with her, not a doubt! ' 
 
 11 Then why, in the name o' gracious, 'ave 
 you brought him in here! " asked Kitty, 
 pointing at Jim. " Ain't you know the old 
 woman hates me? An' you too, Willie! 
 Ain't we the first people she's goin' to sus- 
 picion? I won't 'ave her comin' here with 
 that beast! Gus Schaftsmire, take 'im out 
 o* this take 'im to your own 'ouse! An' 
 Willie! come in the kitchen; I won't 'ave 
 you out in the street when there's dan- 
 ger! " 
 
 Willie was about to avail himself of this 
 invitation, but before he could do so found 
 himself bundled out upon the door-step. Gus
 
 Jim Proves a Problem 159 
 
 had no idea of being deserted by his support- 
 ers. 
 
 Again the question faced them; where 
 to take Jim? 
 
 Michaelson's? Too far! 
 
 Schaftsmire's? " The old man's as mad 
 as a hornet with me! " declared Gus, wiping 
 his brow. 
 
 The minister's? But did they really dare 
 make a scene at the minister's? Besides, 
 the way there lay in open view of the hill. 
 
 " Deacon Sawrey's? " said some one. 
 
 The deacon's house was near, and he hated 
 the old Witch, having once had an alterca- 
 tion with her. No better place could be 
 thought of; and there was no time to think 
 long! 
 
 They scurried Jim across the road and up 
 a by-street. The house was one of the better 
 class in Partlettsville ; it stood back in quite 
 a plot of ground, and had lace curtains at 
 all the windows. 
 
 Deacon Sawrey himself appeared at the 
 door. He was a pompous man, with pink
 
 160 John o' Partletts' 
 
 cheeks and large whiskers. The moment he 
 saw the group at his door he put both hands 
 in his pockets and began jingling his money 
 quite desperately not with the idea of giv- 
 ing any of it away, because that he was sel- 
 dom known to do, but out of amazement and 
 concern. 
 
 1 ' Why why, what 's the meaning of 
 this? " he demanded. 
 
 It was quite awkward, now that they were 
 face to face with the deacon, to say what they 
 had come for. Time pressed, however, and 
 Gus explained that they had brought Jim 
 down from Partletts'. Mr. Carruthers would 
 approve, he knew. They wanted to put him 
 in some safe place over-night. Would the 
 deacon take charge of him till morning? He 
 very politely did not mention that the Witch 
 and her dog were already coming down the 
 hill. 
 
 Mrs. Sawrey, who had been listening, came 
 forward. 
 
 " No no ! " she cried emphatically. 
 11 You cannot bring him in here! Look at
 
 Jim Proves a Problem 161 
 
 their boots, all covered with mud! " she 
 added. 
 
 ' ' Yes, ma 'am, but we got to put him some- 
 wheres! " exclaimed Gus desperately. 
 
 The deacon began again distractedly rat- 
 tling his money: ".Why what's that to 
 us ! "he began. 
 
 "Not here!" declared Mrs. Sawrey. 
 " Never! I never allow strange children in 
 my house! My Evey's too delicate! Take 
 him away! " 
 
 At this moment a plump little girl peeped 
 from the parlor door, and her mother in- 
 stantly cried out and waved her hands. 
 
 " Go back! go back, Evey! " she ex- 
 claimed, then waving in turn to Gus : * * You 
 must go away! Take him away, I tell 
 you! " 
 
 At the same moment Deacon Sawrey 
 ceased to rattle his money and slammed the 
 door. 
 
 Some one ran to the end of the piazza and 
 looked toward Partletts'. The light on the 
 hillside had disappeared.
 
 162 John o' Partletts' 
 
 " She's down in the town, then! " decided 
 Gus. 
 
 " Oh, Lord," cried Willie beginning to 
 whimper, " she'll be on us in a minute! " 
 
 11 Shut up! " retorted the other. " It'll 
 take her ten minutes to walk along the main 
 street." 
 
 " An' what's to hinder her dog from run- 
 nin' ahead? " was suggested. 
 
 Willie writhed. His knees began to give 
 way. 
 
 " Oh, come on! " he cried. " Leave him 
 here ! ' ' indicating Jim. * ' Drop him ! I 
 ain't willin' to be tore to pieces for him! " 
 
 Others, too, in imagination, began to feel a 
 hot breath and to see a pair of glaring eyes. 
 
 But Gus's fighting blood was up. He was 
 afraid of the dog, but, on the other hand, he 
 hated the old woman. She had stood between 
 him and his sport all summer, and the wish 
 for revenge was potent. 
 
 " No, you don't! " he shouted, barring the 
 way to the steps. " If we give in to her this 
 time, she '11 think she owns Partlettsville !
 
 Jim Proves a Problem 163 
 
 She ain't goin' to overreach me so easy! 
 Git together, an' heave him round into the 
 barn! " 
 
 " 'Tain't possible! " exclaimed the muti- 
 neers. " It's too fur! " 
 
 In this extremity, peering out desperately 
 into the dark, some one spied the dim outline 
 of a small building near at hand. 
 
 * ' The deacon 's old hen-house ! Put him 
 in there ! It 's the only place now ! ' ' 
 
 They jostled Jim down the steps, across 
 the stretch of yard, and fairly flung him 
 more dead than alive through fright into 
 the little shanty. 
 
 None too soon ! Nay, not soon enough ! 
 For between the fence railing at the corner 
 a great bounding form was seen coming on, 
 pausing, and coming on again. And they 
 could hear the sound of heavy paws padding 
 swiftly. 
 
 " He's on us! " admitted Gus. And forci- 
 bly grabbing Willie Merryweather and one 
 or two others who had not their wits about 
 them he flung them into the hen-house after
 
 164 John o' Partletts' 
 
 Jim. Then he rushed in himself. It was a 
 rickety little hut, long fallen into disuse, and 
 the door swung wide on rusty hinges. He 
 caught at the door, worked, jerked, finally 
 slammed it, and, at the very instant, a dark 
 form cleared the little gate that opened upon 
 the grass plot, and came, at a long, sweep- 
 ing lope, to the place of hiding. For the wild 
 dog's scent had never failed him yet; and all 
 his savage blood was up! With a noise in 
 his throat like rising thunder, he rose on his 
 hind legs and brought his weight against 
 the rotten old door. Those behind who held 
 it felt the whole fabric shake. Then he threw 
 back his head and gave a cry, hoarse, deep, 
 with a note of triumph in it. 
 
 It was a signal to one who followed swiftly, 
 a lantern held high in her trembling hand, 
 her grey hair dishevelled and straggling 
 about her face, while that old face was dis- 
 torted by an expression both of rage and 
 pain, and she muttered over and over : 
 
 ' ' My child ! They have taken him ! 
 Where have they put my child? "
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 THE RETURN OP JIM 
 
 THE old Witch came across the grass plot, 
 reached the hen-house and swung her lantern 
 at it; at the same moment the dog, leaping 
 up, crashed against the door again. 
 
 * ' Give me my child ! ' ' she cried. * ' If you 
 have him there, give him to me! You cow- 
 ards to steal a helpless child, who fears 
 you! And you think I am a defenceless old 
 woman! " 
 
 There was a pause, then suddenly a stone 
 came crashing in at one of the windows, and 
 again the dog's ponderous weight shook the 
 door. 
 
 Those on the inside began to feel hard- 
 pressed. The door was furnished with 
 neither bolt nor lock, and though they were 
 able to hold it against the dog, they feared 
 each time he threw himself upon it that the 
 
 165
 
 166 John o' Partletts' 
 
 hinge would give way, or that it would fly 
 in pieces, being so shaky and rotten. 
 
 " Jim, Jim! " went on the hoarse old 
 voice. "Answer me, child I've come to 
 get you! These wicked people shall not- 
 never shall have you! Tell me you're there, 
 Jim! John man is with me, and he'll fight 
 for you ; he knows these people ! The cow- 
 ards ! At them, John man ! ' ' 
 
 And again the lantern clashed, and the 
 door shook and trembled in every joint. 
 
 Gus Schaftsmire passed his arm over his 
 dripping forehead, as he stood, his broad 
 back braced against the door, and he gave a 
 semblance of a grin, though his face was 
 pale. 
 
 " What I'd give to be out o' this! " he 
 remarked. 
 
 And though he spoke in a whisper, there 
 was a sound from without that made it 
 known his voice was recognized. A gurgle 
 and a snarl answered him, and a hot, impa- 
 tient sniffing and the patter of paws feeling 
 at the threshold.
 
 The Return of Jim 167 
 
 " Curse you! " cried the youth, in real 
 fear. And again John o' Partletts' heard, 
 and responded more forcibly, for he came 
 plunging at the trembling boards that di- 
 vided him from his enemy. 
 
 If any human being could roll into the form 
 of a hedgehog, that human being was Willie 
 Merryweather at this moment. Doubled into 
 a ball, he lay off at one side of the hen-house, 
 his back to the others, given over to fear, 
 and pretending to be dead or near it. An- 
 other youth stood over Jim, ready to clap 
 his hand over his mouth the moment he made 
 the least outcry. And Jim stood listening to 
 his friends outside, his heart beating in his 
 throat. To be with them spelled friendship 
 and freedom, while to remain with his cap- 
 tors meant terror and misery. The running 
 and shouting, the loud wrangling, and the 
 pulling and jerking, together with the fact 
 of finding himself again in Partlettsville, 
 had quite thrown him into despair; his 
 senses seemed dazed for the time, and he 
 began clasping his hands and mumbling to
 
 168 John o' Partletts' 
 
 himself, pausing when he heard his friend's 
 voice calling his name, to listen with an ex- 
 pression of timid hopefulness. 
 
 And now some one picked up the stone 
 which the old Witch had thrown, and, spring- 
 ing up to the broken window and taking a 
 hurried aim, " gave it to her! " It struck 
 against the tin of the lantern and bounded 
 off. It was followed by a billet of wood; 
 this was aimed more carefully and it struck 
 her over the forehead. She put her hand to 
 her head and turned aside. 
 
 " Done for! Done for! " an immediate 
 shout went up followed by the ready ad- 
 vice: " You'd best go home, old woman! " 
 
 But the shout died. She turned, waving 
 her bent lantern, and in a voice now broken 
 by pain and rage, called to the dog. And the 
 great beast, who had seen and understood, 
 plunged at the door as he had never plunged 
 before. The thin inch boards rattled, the 
 wretched hinges groaned. Another leap. 
 The lower hinge was giving way ! 
 
 "Come!" cried out Gus Schaftsmire.
 
 The Return of Jim 169 
 
 " Every one of you! Put your hands on 
 this here door! We got to hold it in place 
 somehow ! Do you want that beast to git his 
 head in here? He's as strong as a bull! " 
 And he strained every nerve, for, at the 
 sound of his voice, the dog gave a bellow 
 so vindictive and fierce that the stout young 
 Dutchman closed his eyes and breathed hard. 
 
 The Sawreys, disturbed at their peaceful 
 supper table, had come to the windows. Mrs. 
 Sawrey, planting herself firmly in her daugh- 
 ter's way, cried out: 
 
 "Go back, Evey! Go back! Mr. Saw- 
 rey," she went on hysterically, " I won't live 
 in Partlettsville if this sort of thing goes on ! 
 It is barbarous ! Eight in sight of the church, 
 too ! And in twenty minutes the young girls 
 will be going by to choir practice! " 
 
 Mr. Sawrey 's money was fairly dancing in 
 his pockets, he rattled it so vigorously in his 
 anger and helplessness. 
 
 " Go out of my yard! " he commanded; 
 " every one of you! Who gave you permis- 
 sion to come in here? My word! I declare
 
 170 John o' Partletts' 
 
 it's a most outrageous display of passion and 
 ignorance! Old woman, I'm speaking to 
 you! Take that beast away I won't have 
 him on my premises; can't you see that he's 
 frightening my wife and child! And you 
 at your age! I wonder that you're not 
 ashamed to make such a display of your- 
 self! " 
 
 The old woman turned slowly. At times 
 there was a strange sort of dramatic dignity 
 in her movements. There was now, as she 
 held her lantern out at arm's length, and 
 advanced toward the open window. But as 
 she came within the square of light, a scream 
 was drawn from Mrs. Sawrey. And small 
 wonder ! 
 
 She presented an appearance both pite- 
 ous and repellent. Her grey hair had come 
 unbound; it was hanging in elf-locks, and was 
 stained and flecked with the blood which was 
 flowing from the wound in her forehead ; her 
 face was streaked with mud; her dress, all 
 disarranged, was dabbled with red clay to 
 the knees, giving evidence of her hasty pur-
 
 The Return of Jim 171 
 
 suit on foot down the hill of Parti etts'. The 
 hand holding the lantern aloft trembled with 
 agitation; and her harsh old face had sud- 
 denly lost its well denned lines, it was 
 broken into wrinkles and was working with 
 irrepressible emotion. 
 
 She stood out in the square of light from 
 the window, looking with concentrated gaze 
 at Deacon Sawrey. But she had no con- 
 sciousness whatever of her own appearance. 
 It never occurred to her that any one looking 
 at her must unhesitatingly have denominated 
 her crazy. She had but one idea in her mind, 
 one intention in her heart, and in this absorp- 
 tion all else was ignored. She glanced up at 
 the hysterical woman in the window with an 
 expression of contempt. 
 
 " Mr. Sawrey," she said, in a voice which 
 she evidently strove to make calm, " I have 
 come here to get my child ! I must have him 
 before they frighten him any more. He is 
 in there in great terror! You will help 
 me get him ? ' ' 
 
 But the deacon did not move.
 
 172 John o' Partletts' 
 
 " If you were half a man you would come 
 down here and help me ! " she cried, her 
 voice rising; then bitterly: " Oh, not that 
 you will ! Why should you help any one who 
 is weak and defenceless! But he belongs to 
 me, and I tell you I will have him back ! ' ' 
 
 11 And by what right does he belong to 
 you! " asked Deacon Sawrey, throwing back 
 his head to look at her judicially and nodding 
 once or twice. " Just tell me by what 
 right? " 
 
 " By this right! " she answered slowly 
 and distinctly, coming a step nearer the win- 
 dow, and leaning forward to look with intent 
 earnestness into the man's face; " that I 
 love him ! And is there another being in the 
 world who does? No! Then that's my 
 right! And I'll hold to it, too! " she added 
 passionately, " and claim it, and make it 
 good! " 
 
 " Then," said Deacon Sawrey, still nod- 
 ding judicially, while he stood, his whole fig- 
 ure slightly swaying, hands in pockets, " if 
 you're so sure you've a good right, why don't
 
 The Return of Jim 173 
 
 you go to the law about it? What's all this 
 bother about? If you've a good right, go to 
 the law, that's my advice." 
 
 The old woman saw the mockery in his 
 face. 
 
 " And what do I care for your law," she 
 cried out violently, " when I have some 
 one to fight for me who is brave and strong, 
 and has a greater heart than your narrow 
 little soul ever dreamed of ! " 
 
 * ' Ha, ha ! " burst out Deacon Sawrey. 
 " Do you mean the dog? " 
 
 " I mean the dog! " she replied in a hoarse 
 voice, and turned from him. 
 
 1 ' Much obliged, I 'm sure ! Much 
 obliged! " 
 
 But sarcasm and words died. The next 
 instant such a scream arose from the hen- 
 house, such a roar and rush that it seemed 
 as if bedlam itself were turned loose there. 
 
 And above all came the hoarse voice, cry- 
 ing: 
 
 " At them again, John man! At them 
 again I "
 
 174 John o' Partletts' 
 
 And then the screams rose. Screams no 
 longer of mockery or anger, but of fear. 
 
 " For God's sake, Missis, call your dog 
 off! " came GUS Sehaftsmire's voice. " I 
 swear I can't hold this door no longer; it's 
 comin' to pieces! He'll kill us, that's what 
 it'll be! " 
 
 "Be it on your own heads! " cried the 
 Witch. 
 
 The dog obeyed the excitement in her 
 voice, and dashing forward, hurled himself 
 again at the door. There was a crash; a 
 plank loosened and fell aside, and those 
 within began to whimper like children, and 
 even groaned aloud. 
 
 ' * If you do murder down there, I warn you 
 you'll repent it! " called Deacon Sawrey, 
 now entirely frightened himself. 
 
 And it seemed that a dreadful catastrophe 
 was imminent. What was to prevent it? 
 The dog, with his great weight and strength, 
 was certain to break the frail barricade; 
 both strength and courage of the besieged 
 were wavering; the door was crumbling.
 
 The Return of Jim 175 
 
 And behind that door John o ? Partletts' 
 smelled his enemies enemies caught red- 
 handed ! 
 
 It was Jim who saved them all. Jim 
 left alone when all rushed to hold the door, 
 and wonderfully stimulated by the sound of 
 his friend 's voice looked about him. Every 
 one had forgotten, perhaps no one knew, that 
 Jim could climb like a squirrel. There was 
 a window high in the rear, near it a sort of 
 pole which had once been a hen-roost. Up 
 this he shinned, reached the window, and the 
 next instant was in the branch of a friendly 
 tree. To drop to the ground, run round the 
 house, and place himself beside his friend, 
 was the work of a minute. 
 
 Then the old Witch, scarcely believing her 
 own ears, heard a small, deep voice saying 
 right at her elbow : 
 
 " Mis' Beevish, here I is! " 
 
 That night, as the stars shone through the 
 tall fir trees of Partletts', a silent trio passed 
 the big pine and the little one, and, turning
 
 176 John o' Partletts' 
 
 into the narrow path, saw the tiny cottage 
 standing, a dark speck in the starlight. 
 
 The dazed terror was gone from Jim's 
 face, all the fury from the old Witch's, and, 
 as John o' Partletts' raised his great head 
 and the clear light of the stars gleamed upon 
 his little eyes, none would have recognized 
 the fierce beast with murder in his throat. 
 
 The hostile world was behind. Enmity 
 and struggle were forgotten. Solitude, si- 
 lence, and the sight of the peaceful home 
 awaiting them, cast a benediction over each.
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 PABTLETTS* 
 
 THE long summer had waned. The bright 
 tints of autumn had replaced its vivid green. 
 Over the southern slope of Partletts', down 
 as far as eye could reach, to the verge of 
 the ocean itself which rolled, changing and 
 blue as a liquid sky there was a blaze of 
 gold and red. The great, full beeches stood 
 up, a dull bronze, and the shaded leaves and 
 berries of the dogwood were of such a bril- 
 liant crimson that they seemed to flicker like 
 flame in the sunlight. 
 
 Looking down that steep slope, with the 
 snowy shelf of beach and vivid ocean for 
 frame, the eye was lost, and the senses 
 seemed to swim in the riot of color made 
 dazzling by the clear, penetrating sunshine, 
 and ever softly undulating in the constant 
 
 177
 
 178 John o' Partletts' 
 
 breeze that swept up from the ocean, smell- 
 ing of brine. 
 
 And there was one person, whose senses 
 in the eyes of the world not of the soundest 
 order swam indeed. 
 
 Little Jim, trundling a wheelbarrow, an old 
 cap on the back of his head, and busily en- 
 gaged in " gyardin-in'," would stop in his 
 work, and in the long confabs between him- 
 self and the various plants and tools and 
 utensils: That is, he would remark to a 
 geranium cutting: " Here you is fine fo' 
 Mis' Beevish window pot! " And then he 
 would make the cutting reply: " No, sah! 
 Leaf me be don't put no sha'p knife on 
 me! " To which he would respond in his 
 own person : ' ' Hi ! So ! You be fine in Mis ' 
 Beevish window! An' I promise yo' dat's 
 whar yo' gwine! Come 'long, Mr. Trowel, 
 an' help we fo' git planted! " And Mr. 
 Trowel would reply: " Oh, I is tired o' 
 workin' all de time ! I is ol' an' rusty, honey, 
 an' my p'int is mos' gone! Leaf me res'! ' 
 As has been said, Jim would pause in all
 
 Partletts' 179 
 
 this business and confabulation sometimes 
 and just sit back on his heels and stare and 
 stare. 
 
 He would stare down that wondrous slope 
 minute after minute until all its light, move- 
 ment, and color filled his eyes. Filled his 
 heart, too; and his senses swam in a child- 
 like, sweet and deep contentment. 
 
 And there was no one to hurry him; no 
 one to disturb him. Perhaps, by his side, in 
 the warm sunshine, lay a great hairy form 
 with eyes half closed, but ever watchful ; for 
 since that August night the little black figure 
 was never left unguarded. And, perhaps, 
 through some window a red headdress could 
 be seen dodging back and forth, and occa- 
 sionally a pair of sharp blue eyes would peer 
 through the pane ; but they always withdrew 
 with an expression of satisfaction in them at 
 sight of the dog and child, and Jim might 
 have stared until the stars were shining with- 
 out fear of admonition or reproof. 
 
 But he had no wish to do so. It was pleas- 
 ant to work when no one gave him heavy
 
 180 John o' Partletts' 
 
 tasks, or made a great business of seeing 
 them done on time, but where, on the con- 
 trary he was praised and admired for what 
 he did accomplish. And he was to be seen 
 constantly trundling his wheelbarrow, pat- 
 ting bits of brick and pebble into the garden 
 beds, raking the walks, tying and pruning 
 plants and bushes, for Jim had careful 
 hands, and when not frightened or ordered 
 peremptorily, could accomplish many tasks 
 very nicely. And when he was not talking 
 to himself, or the tools, or John o' Partletts', 
 he could be heard singing in his deep little 
 voice, which was rather tuneless, but had 
 something very care-free and gay in its 
 sound : 
 
 "Ol' Mis' iscallin'! 
 
 Ol' Mis' is callin'! 
 
 Ol' Mis' iscallin' me!" 
 
 And wherever he went, there, pawing 
 after, was the great beast, ever watchful. 
 
 And when pear-picking season came, Jim 
 scored another triumph. For the Witch had 
 two pear trees, and it was her wonder and
 
 Partletts' 181 
 
 admiration to see his little, light figure poised 
 among the branches, moving so agilely, never 
 breaking a twig. John o' Partletts' was 
 called upon to look and admire. Which un- 
 doubtedly he did ; but he had no tail to wag, 
 no ears to cock, and a face which nature had 
 not planned for expressing the softer feel- 
 ings. But Jim and the old "Witch thought he 
 understood, and were well satisfied when he 
 lowered his great head and looked at them 
 with his alert, watchful eyes. 
 
 And then what was most surprising ! 
 it turned out that Jim was a remarkable cook. 
 His Grandmammy had been a famous one, 
 and he had watched her so much that he knew 
 " jes' how to fix things! " Not but what he 
 was too shy to put forward his abilities in 
 this direction at first ; but, on occasion, 
 being asked to watch the pot for the old 
 Witch, it became evident that he could fry, 
 bake, and broil, with the cleverness of his 
 race. 
 
 This pleased the old woman vastly, and she 
 would watch him fry bacon and turn eggs
 
 182 John o' Partletts' 
 
 with unceasing expressions of admiration at 
 his dexterity. And Jim would talk to the 
 frying-pan, and admonish the bacon to " lie 
 straight in de dish dar! " and inquire po- 
 litely of the eggs, ' ' if dey was dun and ready 
 fo' be turn over 1 ? " all in his deep, serious 
 little voice. And the old Witch would laugh 
 until the tears came. And then Jim, finding 
 himself regarded as a fine performer, talked 
 faster, and more, bringing tongs, poker, and 
 even the wood burning in the stove, into the 
 conversation, all the while maintaining a 
 most serious and wise-like expression ; look- 
 ing for all the world like a little black owl, 
 gifted with hands and the mystery of cook- 
 ery. 
 
 And John o' Partletts' would shake his 
 head and even make a clumsy dash with his 
 great paws, as if he too knew it was a good 
 thing to play, and was trying to recollect that 
 he had once been a puppy. 
 
 Then Jim would turn around and assure 
 him: 
 
 1 ' Oh, yo ' name is in de pot, Marse Johnny !
 
 Partletts' 183 
 
 Don' yo' fear dat! Yo' name is in de 
 pot! " 
 
 For Jim never presumed to address John 
 o' Partletts' as anything but " Marse 
 Johnny " after the custom of his race in 
 speaking to animals owned by " white qual- 
 ity." 
 
 And it was odd in the morning to see the 
 child with serious, respectful little face, serv- 
 ing out " Marse Johnny breakfast," while 
 the great dog stood gravely watching the 
 liberal supply of sugar scattered over his 
 porridge; for Jim had discovered that 
 John o' Partletts', despite his ferocious ap- 
 pearance, had a very sweet tooth. 
 
 Whenever they went abroad now it was 
 always, as Gus Schaftsmire said, "in a 
 trio." And this was esteemed necessary for 
 purposes of self-protection; but they en- 
 joyed it much because they were a fervent 
 mutual admiration society, and all that the 
 world saw odd or repellent in each, they saw 
 not at all. 
 
 What the world called " mooniness " in
 
 184 John o' Partletts' 
 
 little Jim, the Witch found perfectly natural. 
 In her eyes John o' Partletts' was not a 
 hideous, ferocious mongrel, he was an intel- 
 ligent creature, wonderfully made, with the 
 beauty and awesomeness of mighty strength. 
 When she saw him bounding over the earth 
 she would shake her head and exclaim: 
 
 " What a creature ! What power the Lord 
 has given him! " 
 
 And as to the old woman herself, the world 
 had not a doubt that she was mad, but the 
 child and dog believed in her to the last fibre 
 of their beings, and they followed her old 
 blue cotton skirts and red cambric headdress 
 about with as much confidence and devotion 
 as if she had been Balkis, the great queen of 
 wisdom and wealth.
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 THE RED BRAND AT PARTLETTS* 
 
 IN the large town of Abbottsville nobody 
 paid much heed to the Witch and her re- 
 tainers. Among the hundreds of country 
 rigs that were driven into its main street 
 every day, representing all degrees of pros- 
 perity and dilapidation, her strange old ve- 
 hicle was remarked, of course, for its appear- 
 ance must have caused remark anywhere, 
 but no one paid more than passing atten- 
 tion, and no one ever molested her. Here 
 there was no feeling of personal antagonism 
 to her, and, moreover, Abbottsville was a big, 
 thriving town, and people had their own 
 affairs to attend to. 
 
 The Witch would peacefully steer her equi- 
 page in and out among the other vehicles, 
 alight before her tradesman's door and make 
 her purchases. 
 
 This tradesman was an individual. On one 
 185
 
 186 John o' Partletts' 
 
 side he came of Yankee blood, on the other it 
 was said there was a French strain. At any 
 rate, his name, William Finn, was Yankee 
 enough; and his manners, polite, with a 
 touch of distinction, might have suggested 
 to the imaginative a distant connection with 
 the French court. 
 
 And, of course, with such fine manners, one 
 might have expected to be cheated in the 
 store of Mr. William Finn! But no such 
 thing! Mr. Finn was honest; it was his 
 habit, and nothing could shake him in it; 
 and, moreover, he was good-hearted, and obli- 
 ging. A treasure of a tradesman ! And there- 
 fore the Witch had selected him for hers. 
 
 These trips to Abbottsville were in the 
 nature of outings, everything about them 
 being so pleasant. The Abbottsville turnpike 
 was wide and shady, the old horse walked 
 leisurely, John o' Partletts' had a fine chance 
 to stretch his long legs, and he felt like a 
 lord, for he never met a dog as big as he, 
 and those he did meet respectfully turned out 
 of his way. Little Jim, sitting in state on the
 
 The Red Brand at Partletts' 187 
 
 front seat of the old vehicle, loved to listen 
 to the dreamy creak of the wheels, to watch 
 the passing teams and the sunshine breaking 
 through the thick chestnut trees in changing 
 patterns over the broad road. The Witch 
 looked, as she felt, important, and intent 
 upon her little business of buying to the best 
 advantage of herself and her retainers. 
 
 And then, in Abbottsville, the wait before 
 Mr. Finn's store, was a wonderful time for 
 Jim. He would sit watching the people and 
 teams and cars go by, feeling just a little 
 frightened at the thought that there was so 
 much bustle and business in the world. 
 
 And at length out would come smiling Mr. 
 Finn, bearing a box from which could be seen 
 sticking all sorts of packages: potatoes, 
 sugar, dried herrings on a string, a flitch of 
 bacon, etc. And when this was slid into the 
 back of the equipage, very carefully lest the 
 loose board should be displaced, and when 
 John o' Partletts' had come out from among 
 the wheels and stretched and stood ready to 
 depart, and when the Witch had, with great
 
 188 John o' Partletts' 
 
 dignity, mounted into her seat and gathered 
 the reins, Mr. Finn always remarked: 
 
 " Well, Ma'm, I see you have your friends 
 with you. And the old horse is still travel- 
 ling, as I hope he'll continue to do for 
 many a day ! ' ' 
 
 " Thank you, Mr. Finn ! " the Witch would 
 reply, with a bow of her own. " I hope so, 
 with all my heart ! ' ' 
 
 And thus they parted with mutual satis- 
 faction; the one to disappear behind his 
 counter, the other to turn her old horse's 
 head toward Partletts', with the comfortable 
 feeling that her larder was stocked for a 
 week to come. 
 
 And then back along the broad, shady road, 
 over which the first shadows of evening by 
 this time would be stealing, with the thought 
 of home awaiting them ; the hilltop, bathed 
 in the warm light of the setting sun, and the 
 tiny cottage among its flowers. 
 
 One thing, however, could change the as- 
 pect of these three as by magic. Any sight,
 
 The Red Brand at Partletts' 189 
 
 sound, or reminder of Partlettsville 1 At 
 such reminder the Witch's eyes would flash, 
 her old face become contorted with rage and 
 antagonism; the dog's hair would bristle, 
 his lips snarl, he was the wild dog again, 
 fierce and unsparing; and as for little Jim, 
 he seemed to shrink very small, the dreamy 
 look of contentment would go out of his face 
 and his eyes begin to roll in his head in a 
 manner peculiar to him when frightened or 
 distressed. 
 
 And though they never went to Partletts- 
 ville, yet it seemed that Partlettsville was 
 ever at their door. Constantly they met Gus 
 Schaftsmire on the road; or Louisa Myers, 
 driven in a hired wagon to look after her 
 goods at the Abbottsville station; or even 
 Mr. Carruthers himself, striding along, pale, 
 straight, self-contained, who recognized their 
 presence by a more marked rigidity in face 
 and form. He never spoke to them now 
 unless quite face to face, thereby marking 
 his disapproval of the old woman yet more 
 definitely than formerly.
 
 190 John o' Partletts' 
 
 The Witch knew well that since that Au- 
 gust night when she had recovered Jim her 
 name was more execrated in Partlettsville 
 than ever before. And though she despised 
 the Partlettsville people, and looked at them 
 with defiance and hatred, yet, in her secret 
 heart, she did have a fear; especially as to 
 Jim! The sight of a Partlettsville wagon 
 therefore was enough to set her muttering 
 to herself: " You'll not take him from me! 
 Never! Never! " And once when Gus 
 Schaftsmire, passing her on the road, leaned 
 out of his wagon and looked at her with a 
 loud, meaning laugh, she was on her feet in 
 an instant: 
 
 ' ' Oh, you mean bully ! .Why are you leer- 
 ing at me with such a malicious look? " 
 
 " Out of love," exclaimed Gus, tickled al- 
 most to death. " Out of love and friendli- 
 ness; ain't we neighbors? " 
 
 "No! you're no neighbor of mine, you 
 thief and robber! " cried the WHch. " Get 
 along over the road, or I've some one here 
 who'll make you! "
 
 The Red Brand at Partletts' 191 
 
 Indeed John o' Partletts' had already ad- 
 vanced from his post at the rear, and was 
 drawing up upon Grus, his huge head lowered, 
 and thrust forward threateningly. 
 
 Gus needed no second warning. 
 
 " An' you old fiend, you! " he muttered, 
 as he shot by. " You'd ought to have your 
 house burned over your head! " 
 
 It was these words perhaps merely 
 thrown out at random that made the Witch 
 absolutely sure, a week later, that an attempt 
 was made to fire her house. 
 
 The Fall had waned, Indian Summer come 
 and gone. The glory of color that had made 
 the woods gorgeous lay on the ground in 
 masses of fading red and gold, carpeting the 
 slope of Partletts' from brow to ocean. 
 
 And all through this wood of Partletts ' the 
 thick underbrush stood bare and shivering, 
 while here and there patches of dried woods 
 and tall grasses rattled their brown stalks 
 mournfully. 
 
 There was nothing bright in the landscape
 
 192 John o' Partletts' 
 
 now save the sunsets; the weather had been 
 dry and windy for long, and the sun daily 
 set in a cloud-sea of red and gold. 
 
 Every afternoon the old woman came to 
 the kitchen door and watched the great orb 
 dropping oceanward. 
 
 On one memorable afternoon the wind blew 
 high, straight up from the ocean, bending 
 trees and underbrush on a slant toward the 
 top of the hill so that they all had the appear- 
 ance of striving to tear from their roots and 
 reach the summit. 
 
 As the Witch opened her door as usual and 
 looked out it seemed as if all the wood were 
 rushing toward her. It was a beautiful sight, 
 the tall trees bent as supple as saplings, 
 never for an instant straightening, so con- 
 stant-was the gale, and the sun setting red, 
 while a film of purple came sweeping along 
 the horizon, fast covering its face, until a 
 soft twilight seemed shed over the bending 
 wood. 
 
 The old woman called to Jim, and they 
 both stood, holding the door in the teeth of
 
 The Red Brand at Partletts' 193 
 
 the wind, while they peeped through at the 
 swaying wood. John o' Partletts', having 
 no special taste for beauties of the landscape, 
 lay stretched before the stove, his head on 
 his paws, his little eyes as usual but half 
 closed, showing a watchful slit beneath each 
 lid. 
 
 Suddenly a startled cry filled the little 
 room and rang through the cottage. And the 
 great dog was on his feet with a bound, every 
 hair rising, and he stood, shivering, for the 
 cry was repeated in the voice that he knew 
 and loved. 
 
 It was the Witch's voice. She had passed 
 outside of the door in order to see the better, 
 and now she stood, her breast heaving, her 
 eyes flashing, pointing down the hillside. 
 
 For, what was that circling down there! 
 Something brighter than the sunlight ! Some- 
 thing that seemed at first glance part of the 
 whirling, colored leaves. Now it seemed to 
 separate itself from leaves and grasses and 
 leap as if with its own strength through the 
 clear air toward the tree-tops ; to sink again
 
 194 John o' Partletts' 
 
 and become part of the leaves in their dance ; 
 creeping through them, and onward, advan- 
 cing with sudden speed, and springing high 
 again. 
 
 " Fire! " cried the old woman, in a voice 
 made deep by terror. " The underbrush is 
 on fire! " 
 
 She stood still a moment, gazing; a mo- 
 ment in which all the reality of the situation 
 rushed upon her. The wind, coming straight 
 up the hillside, already sent the stifling smell 
 of smoke into her face. She glanced about 
 her, at the tall weeds, all uncut, about her 
 cottage. Had the fire come on the opposite 
 side the open plot of her garden would have 
 protected her, but it was rushing up at the 
 back, where the weeds, swayed forward by 
 the wind, rubbed against the very boards of 
 her house ! 
 
 She looked again toward the woods. The 
 trees, still full of sap, had not caught, it 
 was only the underbrush. But there a dead 
 pine stood; all around it was a smother of 
 smoke, then a flame leaped, a branch caught,
 
 The Red Brand at Partletts' 195 
 
 then another, and another, up, up, until the 
 whole tall tree stood against the sky, its out- 
 lines lost in flame and smoke, like a forest 
 torch. 
 
 In that pine tree she seemed to see the fate 
 of her cottage. And she gave a cry more bit- 
 ter and terrified than the first, a cry in which 
 despair was mingled with dread. For in that 
 moment she seemed to see herself an old 
 woman stripped of all home, posses- 
 sions swallowed in that pitiless, onrushing 
 destruction. 
 
 But not without a struggle! No, let the 
 odds be ever so long, this was a woman who 
 was born to strive, to do battle, to face an 
 enemy, be it man or fate ! 
 
 In a desperate emergency she could appear 
 almost grand. Her old hawk face became set 
 and motionless, only her lips were com- 
 pressed, and her eyes seemed to concentrate 
 in points of light. 
 
 " Jim, child! " she cried out suddenly, 
 "you must help me! It's you and me 
 you and me against that! "
 
 196 John o' Partletts' 
 
 Poor Jim had stood cowering against the 
 side of the door, hardly understanding as yet 
 the meaning of the menace before them. The 
 Witch, as she spoke, rushed back into the 
 cottage, and threw the door open. As she did 
 so, the dog, who had stood, as it were, on the 
 edge, gave a bound. Through the open door 
 he saw the approaching danger, he smelled 
 the heavy smoke and he threw up his head 
 with a long, low howl, his eyes glowing with 
 defiance and excitement, as if, by the very 
 force of his strength and fierceness, he would 
 turn its course. 
 
 But no, John o' Partletts', this was not a 
 fight that you could enter into ! It was a fight 
 that required human intelligence, wit, reason. 
 A fight for the old woman, and the little, 
 meagre child! 
 
 Little enough, and meagre enough, yes, but 
 obedient and trusting ! Therefore he did not 
 lose his head, or scream, or run to seek safety 
 for himself. Only, when the old woman, run- 
 ning from the house again, and selecting a 
 spot at a little distance from the cottage,
 
 The Red Brand at Partletts' 197 
 
 stooped, and deliberately set fire to the 
 weeds ; only then did he, for a moment, roll 
 his eyes in protesting wonder, and cry out : 
 
 " What you do, Mis' Beevish? Yo' da 
 bring him nearer! Yo' da bring de fire 
 nearer! " 
 
 " No, child, no! " she cried. " I'm fight- 
 ing fire with fire! It's all that's left for us 
 to do ! Fire with fire ! " she repeated, stand- 
 ing up and looking at the oncoming welter 
 of smoke as if it were a sentient enemy and 
 could understand the defiance. 
 
 Then quickly, quickly must they set fire to 
 the weeds, and then swiftly, before it got 
 beyond their control, beat it out. The Witch 
 with a great shovel, the child with a broom. 
 Now they accomplished a narrow semicircle 
 of charred space around the side of the cot- 
 tage, much too narrow in the face of that 
 leaping, wind-driven foe! It must be gone 
 over again and again and widened. 
 
 They widened it, the child panting from his 
 exertions; even in the cold, keen wind the 
 sweat running down his forehead into his
 
 198 John o' Partletts' 
 
 eyes. The woman's cotton dress, which twice 
 the fire had seized and been beaten out of, 
 hung frayed and scorched; her hands were 
 burnt, and, worst of all, she feared that their 
 efforts would prove useless; but still she 
 struggled on. 
 
 ' ' Work, Jim ! ' ' she screamed to the strain- 
 ing child, rushing to the far end of the semi- 
 circle, to go its length yet again. And Jim 
 sprang forward, and, as she fired the dry 
 grass, beat the bursting flames with all his 
 fast ebbing strength. And all this while the 
 huge, strong dog, helpless to assist, but filled 
 with a great, brute sympathy, ran up and 
 down the length of their poor little boundary, 
 almost in the fire, singeing his hair, scorch- 
 ing his paws, and sending out his wild, ex- 
 cited bark in challenge and defiance. 
 
 And now they could do no more, for the fire 
 was upon them. Its smoke was in their faces, 
 its roar in their ears. They felt its hot 
 breath, and drew back as far as the cottage. 
 
 Their burnt space is too narrow; far too 
 narrow to arrest that rushing enemy! The
 
 The Red Brand at Partletts' 199 
 
 Witch, seeing it, turned and covered her face 
 with her hand. Jim hid his eyes in his arm, 
 his exhausted little body shaking. And the 
 great dog drew back, unwillingly, step by 
 step, with a fierce dignity baring his teeth. 
 
 On crept the fire to the verge of the semi- 
 circle, and the cruel flame tongues were out- 
 stretched. But as suddenly as it had come 
 upon them, just as suddenly it veered. A 
 counter current of air had brushed it, in 
 that instant it licked up the last tall weeds 
 along the semicircle, languished, drooped, 
 had not the strength to overleap the burnt 
 space, and seemed for the moment all but 
 quenched. But, determined not to die, and 
 fanned now by another sudden rush of wind, 
 it swept away toward the left, on to the brow 
 of the hill, to flame there, a beacon to Part- 
 lettsville in the valley below. 
 
 The menace had come and gone, swift in 
 its passage as only fire and wind may be! 
 The last rays of the setting sun fell upon 
 the little cottage; and the old woman, who, 
 a moment before, had seen her home threat-
 
 200 John o' Partletts' 
 
 ened, and herself destitute, raised her head, 
 exclaiming in a trembling voice of gratitude : 
 " bountiful God! " 
 
 That night, long and late, the old woman 
 sat at an upper window. Shaken to the soul, 
 her past seemed to rise within her, and to 
 pass in review before her, as a man when 
 drowning finds his whole life emerging from 
 his subconsciousness to look him in the face. 
 She seemed to see herself in the years before 
 she came to Partlettsville with a great for- 
 tune, but striving ever, and ofttimes with 
 those of her own blood, to retain her rights 
 and possessions. Striving in her own way, 
 scorning advice and ways and means which 
 often seemed to her sordid; disdaining law- 
 yers, whom she distrusted; depending upon 
 herself, proud, single-handed, alone. And 
 she seemed to feel again the sense of passion- 
 ate injustice as her possessions gradually 
 slipped from her into the hands of those 
 shrewder than herself. She seemed to see 
 herself as she had been all her life, striving
 
 The Red Brand at Partletts' 201 
 
 against many of the powers that be, as by 
 some necessity of her nature, inveighing 
 against hypocrisy and all narrow, unsympa- 
 thetic conventions scorning so much that 
 was held dear by her own class until that 
 very class had come to regard her not only 
 as strange and eccentric but even as half 
 mad. Then, as an old woman, broken in for- 
 tune, but not in spirit, with the horror of that 
 stigma of half-mad upon her, she had turned 
 her back upon them, determined to seek in 
 some corner of the world a community of 
 people, simple, plain, human. She had found 
 Partletts', where the Spirit of Truth had 
 spoken to her soul, promising her peace. She 
 had bought her bit of land, built her house, 
 and laid out her garden. And during this 
 process she had come to know Partlettsville. 
 For her it had been a bitter knowledge 
 perhaps the bitterest of her life for she 
 had found here the narrowness, lack of sym- 
 pathy, suspicion, from which she had fled. 
 Cruelty and scorn she had found here ! 
 She sat for a long, long time, gazing with
 
 202 John o' Partletts' 
 
 narrowed eyes, and in her stern, proud old 
 face an expression of bitterness grew and 
 grew until it seemed to pierce the darkness 
 and distance, and even the hill itself, to the 
 little town beyond. From there she believed 
 had come the danger that had almost over- 
 powered her to-day. There, she told herself, 
 dwelt enemies, who were willing, not merely 
 to sport with her, but to ruin her ! 
 
 Suddenly she brought her clenched hand 
 down upon the window-ledge with a gesture 
 of uncontrolled violence, giving vent to her 
 tumultuous thoughts and feelings, and rose, 
 looking down over the hillside, her face white 
 and drawn in its expression of anger, resent- 
 fulness, and lonely grief. At her feet rose 
 a rasping snarl that seemed the accompani- 
 ment of her sudden movement, and in an 
 inner room, a fevered child turned on his bed 
 with a moan, as if, in his sleep, he had seen 
 a dark and threatening vision.
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 CLERICAL AND OTHERWISE 
 
 IT was in no conciliating frame of mind 
 that the Witch opened her door to Mr. Car- 
 ruthers a short while after the above event. 
 Her heart was sore, and her mind full of such 
 bitter suspicions that every one who came 
 from Partlettsville was, in some degree, con- 
 nected with them. As he entered the cottage 
 she gave him such a strangely meaning glance 
 that he lost no time in opening his subject. 
 It concerned the guardianship of Jim, which 
 he proposed undertaking himself. And she, 
 on her part, losing no time, instantly declared 
 with vehemence that she would sooner see 
 the child dead than placed in the care of the 
 man before her. 
 
 " Madam," expostulated the minister, lay- 
 ing his hand upon the table, ' ' let me advise 
 you to use more temperate language! You 
 
 203
 
 204 John o' Partletts' 
 
 have and you know it no power to re- 
 tain this child. I have or shall soon have 
 
 absolute power to take him from you. Be- 
 sides this, I must advise you to generally con- 
 duct yourself with less animosity toward the 
 people of my parish. You have already an- 
 tagonized them by your conduct, and I warn 
 you that you may drive them to take an 
 action against you, that will cause you 
 pain " 
 
 The old woman started violently. 
 
 " Ah! " she cried suddenly. " They have 
 already done me an injury! I believe you 
 know it well, Henry Carruthers! " she went 
 on, her face contracting with the emotion 
 that took possession of her. " You are all 
 
 down there would-be murderers! You 
 would have burned me alive in my house - 
 
 " I don't know what you are speaking of," 
 he interrupted resolutely. " I am speaking 
 of the future, not the past." 
 
 But she went on, unheeding. 
 
 " Did you imagine that I could be de- 
 ceived! " She whirled round, and pointed
 
 Clerical and Otherwise 205 
 
 with a trembling hand down the hill. ' ' The 
 fire on the side that would do me the most 
 harm! The wind raging straight up I 
 Oh ! " she laughed violently. * ' Henry 
 Carruthers ! ' ' she exclaimed, striking her 
 hand down upon the table so vehemently, 
 and so near his own, that he involuntarily 
 started. " When that fire was set last week, 
 to burn an old woman out of her home to 
 make her lose everything she possessed 
 an old, friendless woman, who never comes 
 into your church, so why consider her? You 
 were sitting in your study, preparing your 
 sermon for Sunday, no doubt ! For you are 
 one of those always found in the right place 
 at the right time ! But was there not a smile 
 on your face? A smile, Henry Carruthers f 
 Yes you knew what was going forward, 
 you knew! " 
 
 The tall man drew himself up. He looked 
 at the shaking, excited old woman with a 
 scorn he could not repress. Exhibitions of 
 uncontrolled feeling were extremely repug- 
 nant to him.
 
 206 John o' Partletts' 
 
 " And do you imagine that I would stoop 
 to any act of malevolence? " he asked in his 
 coldest tone. "I, or any of my parishion- 
 ers? " 
 
 She interrupted him with a sudden laugh. 
 
 * * And it is just what your parishioners 
 some of them would do ! Any act of mean- 
 ness or cowardice! It is you who do not 
 understand them! " she added, and she 
 leaned forward and looked him in the face. 
 * ' With all your known merits, all your great 
 self-esteem, you cannot imagine yourself to 
 be a reader of men; an interpreter of the 
 souls about you ! You have not the sympathy 
 or the ability to interpret human beings 
 truly! " she added with steady conviction, 
 her voice for the moment losing its emotional 
 ring and becoming calm and judicial. 
 
 It seemed that she had struck him upon 
 a sore spot. Perhaps the man had, himself, 
 at some time, felt the latent truth of what 
 she spoke. At any rate, the anger that, for 
 the moment, faded from her face seemed 
 to flash into his.
 
 Clerical and Otherwise 207 
 
 4 * I have sufficient understanding of human 
 nature for my purposes, and for the purposes 
 of those about me," he answered with proud 
 conciseness. 
 
 She drew a step nearer, looking in his face. 
 
 " And do you believe it possible to suffi- 
 ciently understand human nature, which is 
 so strange, so complicated? " she asked, with 
 a gravity that was almost sadness. 
 
 He looked at her, and struck by the intent 
 and earnest expression of her face, might 
 perhaps have made her some propitiating an- 
 swer. But, even as he looked, the harsh, 
 defiant light reappeared in her eyes, and with 
 sarcastic bitterness she resumed: 
 
 " But, I know, to a gentleman of your 
 stamp, criticism of any kind is unaccept- 
 able! " 
 
 He raised his head in response to her 
 words. 
 
 " I did not come here to argue," he replied 
 coldly; " I came to take the boy away; but, 
 as I see it would be impossible to do so with- 
 out violence, I shall leave the affair until it
 
 208 John o' Partletts' 
 
 can be taken in hand in a more dignified man- 
 ner. And I hope that will be soon." 
 
 " You mean ! " she exclaimed, her face 
 turning very white, and her words catching 
 a little in her throat, " you mean to take 
 some show of legal authority? ' 
 
 " I mean the matter to be decided imper- 
 sonally," he replied; " not on the ground 
 on which you are determined to put it, 
 merely as if it were a fight between you and 
 me." 
 
 ' * Listen to me ! " cried out the old woman 
 suddenly. * * Send no one here for him ! 
 for, if you do, he will wish he had never 
 come ! I'll have no care for what happens ! " 
 she went on threateningly, losing all her 
 calmness of a moment before. " I'll never 
 let this child go back to you! And he'll die 
 if he does ! It will kill him ! He can't stand 
 your treatment down there. How did I find 
 him ? How pitiful only I know ! Sick, half- 
 starved, tormented ! and he had been 
 beaten that morning by you, Henry Carru- 
 thers! " The minister made a quick, impa-
 
 Clerical and Otherwise 209 
 
 tient movement. He regarded her statements 
 as gross exaggerations. She held her breath 
 with a half -sob before she went on. " And 
 I can tell you how unjustly I " she added, 
 catching his arm, as he was about moving 
 away; and rapidly she poured a tale into 
 his ear, in which .Willie Merryweather's 
 name figured frequently. He listened, more 
 than half incredulous, but with an arrested 
 attention. 
 
 When she had finished, with a nervous 
 violence she put out her hand and pushed 
 him from her. 
 
 " There," she exclaimed, " go back to 
 your own kind!* I tell you what they are, 
 but, such as they are, you love them! " 
 
 And as he strode off swiftly down the hill 
 she stood in her doorway following his prog- 
 ress with narrowed eyes in which irrepressi- 
 ble dread and grim determination struggled. 
 
 " The law! " she muttered. " The law! 
 So you would bring legal authority even 
 here, would you? to take him from 
 me! "
 
 210 John o' Partletts' 
 
 Though Mr. Carruthers was always skep- 
 tical as to any information received through 
 such a medium as the Witch, yet she had 
 spoken with sufficient detail of Willie Merry- 
 weather for him to feel it incumbent on him 
 to approach Kitty on the subject of her son's 
 possible misbehavior. 
 
 Kitty, outraged to the last degree, unhes- 
 itatingly informed him that the Witch owed 
 her an imagined grudge and " took it hout 
 in any form of spite that came handy! " 
 And Willie, called to assist in his own de- 
 fence, ably seconded his mother, was humil- 
 ity itself, whined, and in the extremity of his 
 injured feelings, even shed tears, declaring 
 in the most pronounced manner that he 
 " never had done no thin' to nobody! " and 
 " didn't understand what nobody meant! " 
 
 Mr. Carruthers, utterly unable to clear up 
 the matter, went away with mingled feelings 
 of annoyance and confusion. A lie was such 
 a hideous thing to his very upright nature 
 that the mere suspicion of one threw him 
 into a sort of mental disorder; and to be-
 
 Clerical and Otherwise 211 
 
 lieve Willie Merryweather capable of bare- 
 faced falsehood seemed, in a way, to belie 
 his own teaching, influence and judgment, 
 for personally he had rather a liking for the 
 boy. Nor was this so very strange, because 
 the Willie whom he knew was very different 
 indeed from the Willie with whom little Jim 
 was intimately acquainted. 
 
 Accordingly he dismissed the matter from 
 his mind with the feeling that the Witch had 
 been playing upon her imagination, and that 
 all she said was on a par with her mad hal- 
 lucination that he, Henry Carruthers, was 
 implicated in a plot to burn down her 
 house. 
 
 With his usual long strides he made his 
 way back to the rectory. But had any one 
 watched him narrowly it might have been 
 seen that his step was a little less vigorous 
 than it had once been, and that he looked 
 down more often, as if he were studying the 
 ground beneath his feet. The dark hair 
 upon his temples had become during the last 
 months sprinkled with grey, and, though he
 
 212 John o' Partletts' 
 
 was scarcely forty, he had the appearance of 
 a man ten years older. 
 
 In truth he was a very desolate and lonely 
 man. That void which had opened within 
 him and all about him, on that morning when 
 his wife died, was as wide and deep as then. 
 There seemed nothing in the world that could 
 fill it, or assuage the ache of it. Life seemed 
 empty. Only the word Duty was as plainly 
 before his eyes as ever. On that one word, 
 that one thought, he fastened his whole atten- 
 tion. Each day he grew stricter and sterner, 
 both with himself and others; more concise 
 and formal in every action; more sparing 
 even of his words. 
 
 There was no gentle voice now to remind 
 him that it is a world in which nature blooms 
 and often shows a smiling face; that life is 
 not all harsh, but full of beauty and love, 
 too ; and that skies, though they are stormy, 
 can also be star-lit. 
 
 And being naturally of a very serious and 
 grave nature, he forgot these things. 
 
 He never gave himself any recreation;
 
 Clerical and Otherwise 213 
 
 he never laughed. And now gradually rec- 
 reation and laughter had come to seem to 
 him unnecessary and discordant. 
 
 His children had learned that if they 
 romped his study door would open and a 
 stern voice ask: " What noise is that? " It 
 is true, they seldom enough romped. And 
 when old Elsa, early in the Spring, had been 
 found by him planting out some of his little 
 lady's geraniums, she had been reproved. 
 
 " You complain that you are pressed for 
 time," he had said, tersely; " leave the 
 flowers then." 
 
 Perhaps it had pained him to see the flow- 
 ers that his wife had loved, planted by an- 
 other. At any rate, not a flower bloomed 
 about the rectory that Summer; it was a 
 bare spot. " Desolate enough for the bairns, 
 poor hearts! " complained Elsa. 
 
 And now the bairns, looking out of the 
 kitchen window, dropped back hastily. 
 
 " Father's coming! " was whispered. 
 
 Only little Margy kept her place. Less 
 afraid of the stern man than they, she even
 
 214 John o' Partletts' 
 
 peeped at him archly as he came up the 
 flagged walk. But, catching his eye, and 
 alarmed at her own boldness, she jumped 
 down, too, and ran to hide her face in Elsa's 
 apron, who, stopping in her work, and put- 
 ting her hand on the shining head, asked : 
 
 " What's the matter now? " 
 
 * ' He saw me ! " whispered a smothered 
 little voice. * ' Father saw me ! " 
 
 11 Saw you? " exclaimed the old woman 
 sharply. " An' what if he did, dearie? 
 Who's a hetter right to look in a man's 
 face than his own childer, eh? Tell me 
 that!" 
 
 And she glanced toward the hall, whence 
 came the sound of a closing door, as if she 
 would have liked to ask that question of some 
 one other than Margy. 
 
 And as the grave man caught a glimpse of 
 the little, vanishing head he came into his 
 house with a heavier step; for it recalled 
 all too vividly one whose hair had been of 
 a like color, of the tender, haunting bright- 
 ness of spring daffodils.
 
 Clerical and Otherwise 215 
 
 But who shall express the rage and indig- 
 nation meanwhile reigning in the house of 
 Merryweather ! Had Willie been an abused 
 archangel he could not have received more 
 sympathy or glorification. And Maggie, out 
 of her honest soul, having protested: " But 
 he did, you know he did treat the nigger 
 bad! " was soundly boxed and pushed into 
 a corner for being " an unloyal hussy." 
 And Kitty, late that evening, when she was 
 closing her shutters, turned her sharp, keen 
 face toward Partletts', sleeping peacefully 
 beneath the starlight, declaring her deep- 
 rooted intention to " Git even with that 
 crazy old loon yet! I'll do it! " she added, 
 " even if it costs me somethin'! " 
 
 And for Kitty that was an ominous 
 threat indeed !
 
 CHAPTER XVHI 
 
 DEACON SAWBEY EXPLAINS 
 
 IP Kitty Merryweather 's temper was bla- 
 zing against the Witch, there were others as 
 hot. 
 
 It had been generally believed that she 
 would weary of her guardianship of the hill, 
 and that, as time went on, she and John 
 o ' Partletts ' would be less belligerent. They 
 should have known her better. 
 
 Feeling as she did whether rightly or 
 wrongly that those below had attempted 
 to do her the bitter injury of burning her 
 house, the Witch's long cherished dislike of 
 them was fanned to an intensity of suspicion 
 and fear that scarcely knew bounds. She 
 now believed them capable of anything. In 
 fact they stood as convicted in her eyes. The 
 act she believed they had meditated revealed 
 to her imagination a very blackness of soul 
 216
 
 Deacon Sawrey Explains 217 
 
 which made her both shudder and rage. She 
 massed all Partlettsville in her suspicions; 
 and, whereas formerly she had endeavored to 
 avoid her enemies down there, now she 
 thought and brooded over them continually. 
 The outcome was that she could no longer 
 keep away from them. Drawn by the absorb- 
 ing wish to make her displeasure and pres- 
 ence felt, she gave up her former wise course 
 of never going near them, and again the old 
 horse and strange trio were to be seen trail- 
 ing through the main street of Partlettsville, 
 mocked at and mocking. 
 
 And more than once the Witch, provoked 
 by taunts, had stood up and delivered a 
 tirade, and, on these occasions, she appeared 
 more crazy to those about her than ever 
 before. More than likely it was only the 
 presence of John o' Partletts' that saved her 
 from injury of some kind. All feared the 
 great dog, not only for his ferocity but for 
 his sharpness and alertness; had any been 
 bold enough to throw a missile he would 
 unerringly have singled out the offender.
 
 218 John o' Partletts' 
 
 There were some who regarded this as 
 very good sport, but many of the dwellers 
 in Partlettsville considered it a great scan- 
 dal, and a most unnecessary disturbance. 
 Mrs. Sawrey, who had already suffered such 
 a painful fright, could never endure to see 
 the equipage of the Witch, and declared that 
 she was almost afraid to live in the vicinity 
 of such a crazy-looking person. And it was 
 the opinion of all that, whether crazy or sane, 
 the old woman was a most undesirable neigh- 
 bor. 
 
 " Something ought to be done," was re- 
 marked each time that the Witch made one 
 of her appearances. 
 
 1 ' And something shall be done ! ' ' said 
 Deacon Sawrey mysteriously. " I do not 
 intend that my wife shall be annoyed and 
 frightened in a peaceful community so 
 called! " he added with sarcasm. 
 
 Now, any disturbance of the peace was as 
 painful to little Jim as to the most conserva- 
 tive Partlettsvillite. He loved the quiet of
 
 Deacon Sawrey Explains 219 
 
 the hill of Partletts ', the routine of life there, 
 alone with the old woman and the dog. He 
 hated in proportion those trips into the town, 
 and feared the unfriendly faces he saw there. 
 He often tried by little ruses to keep the old 
 woman at home. 
 
 " Mis' Beevish," he would exclaim, " 'e 
 gwine rain ! Best not resk gwine so fur ! ' ' 
 
 And if the weather was so bright that rain 
 could not possibly be predicted, Jim would 
 still look skyward dubiously, sniff and say: 
 
 "Yes, de sun shine fV sure! but 'e do 
 smell like rain ! ' ' 
 
 And there was one thing that could always 
 keep the old woman at home, and, moreover, 
 seemed, for the time, to smooth out all pas- 
 sion and restlessness from her mind; this 
 was interest in her garden. If Jim could 
 once get her to planning a new bed for the 
 Spring, or to talking of the names and hab- 
 its of her various plants, a period of quiet 
 home-abiding was sure to follow. Therefore 
 when Jim saw, by her flashing eyes, and 
 by a frequent and nervous straightening of
 
 220 John o' Partletts' 
 
 her red headdress, that she was meditating 
 overmuch upon her enemies, he would pick 
 a handful of seed, salvia, zinnia, or what- 
 ever came to hand and adroitly begin on 
 some such strain as this: 
 
 " Lor, Mis' Beevish, dere's mo' seed on 
 dem dried up ole bushes dan yo' kin shake 
 a stick at! Ain't we goin' to have no mo' 
 o' dese kind o' flowers nex' year long ea 
 we is got sech a sight o' seed fo' plantin'? " 
 
 And the old woman's eyes would cease to 
 flash, she would grow calmer, and finally 
 hold out her hand. 
 
 " Let me see, child what seed is that? " 
 
 " "Tis de seed of a plant what in de Souf 
 dey calls ' 01' Maid,' an' besides, I hears 
 some people call it * OP Age an' Youf ! ' " 
 
 " No, no! " she would reply, examining 
 the seed with sharp eyes. " That plant, 
 child, belongs to the genus helianthoideae, 
 and it is named zinnia after Dr. Zinn, a 
 famous German professor, child, who spent 
 his whole life studying plants and flowers. 
 And that " taking the little black seeds cf
 
 Deacon Sawrey 'Explains 
 
 the salvia into her hand, and turning them 
 about lovingly " is the salvia splendens, 
 it has been cultivated from the common, 
 garden sage. Oh, I can't tell you how many 
 varieties there are, but it belongs to the 
 momardeae family! " And so on. All of 
 which little Jim understood about as well as 
 if she had elected to talk Greek. What he 
 did understand, however, was the softened 
 look of absorbed interest, and the disappear- 
 ance of the flashing anger and restlessness. 
 
 Then the talk would drift on to the ar- 
 rangement of some new flower-bed if it 
 should be crescent or heart-shaped; and 
 finally the old woman would draw designs 
 on a paper, while Jim made suggestions, and 
 John o' Partletts' sat listening. 
 
 The afternoon would drift by; danger of 
 mischief and the arousing of evil passions 
 be averted; and thus the violent old woman, 
 who scorned all advice, and whose heart was 
 filled with bitterness and suspicions, lent 
 herself, all unwittingly, to the direction of 
 the child. For a sort of wisdom is some-
 
 222 John o' Partletts' 
 
 times given into the hands of the very sim- 
 ple, unregarded and lowly, and, it is written : 
 " A little child shall lead them! " 
 
 As the Fall drew to a close, and the high 
 chill winds of early Winter began to sweep 
 over the little town, there were others than 
 Michaelson who looked up covetously at the 
 tall trees upon the side of Partletts'. Many 
 figured out the amount of wood in this clump, 
 the amount of profit to be made from that, 
 until, emboldened by these calculations, at- 
 tempts were made from time to time, but 
 always with the same result failure. 
 
 At length Gus Schaftsmire, determining to 
 show all Partlettsville that he was the man 
 to get the better of " that there pair," put 
 a pistol in his pocket, threw caution to the 
 winds, and taking one of his father's horses 
 to haul the wood back, went one night to hew 
 down a tree. 
 
 "Wonderful to relate, he accomplished his 
 purpose uninterrupted. But just as he had 
 loaded the wood on his drag, his horse, fright-
 
 Deacon Sawrey Explains 223 
 
 ened by the flashing of the lantern, broke 
 away and dashed through the underbrush 
 toward the Witch's cottage. Gus, not daring 
 to risk the loss of the animal, and embold- 
 ened by the feel of the loaded pistol, made 
 after. 
 
 He caught his horse, and something beside. 
 
 Within the house the great dog, hearing 
 the rush past the cottage, sprang up, his 
 fore paws on the window-sill, and, seeing the 
 intruder, unhesitatingly crashed through the 
 pane and with a wild bound, and a scatter 
 of falling glass, gave chase. 
 
 There was the report of a pistol, a terrible 
 roar and snarl, before the Witch reached the 
 scene. She saw her dog's head spattered 
 with blood from his cuts, but supposing this 
 to come from a shot wound, and fearing Gus 
 would kill him, she rushed forward, caught 
 hold of him, and prevented him from making 
 a second attack. 
 
 Seeing Gus in her garden in the dead of 
 night, her ready imagination led her to be- 
 lieve his presence boded some direful dis-
 
 224 
 
 aster, and she lost no time in informing him 
 of her suspicions. 
 
 ' ' I come to git my horse ! ' ' shouted Gus, 
 holding on to his leg with a white face. 
 " An' I'm bit! " 
 
 " Take your horse and go then! " she 
 screamed back. " Look, you have hurt my 
 friend here, you sneaking villain ' ' 
 
 " An' a fine friend! " interrupted Gus, 
 too much enraged to be prudent. " Look at 
 him ! Look at your friend! ' 
 
 The Witch looked down at the great bloody 
 head and savage face, which wore a hideous 
 grin in the presence of his enemy, at the 
 huge beast, trembling with anger, but obedi- 
 ent to her restraining hand. Perhaps at this 
 moment she remembered another time when 
 she had seen that head all bloody. At any 
 rate her face suddenly grew white; an ex- 
 pression of violent emotion passed over it. 
 
 " He's what you've made him! " she cried. 
 " You down there! You point to him as if 
 he were the fiend incarnate; but did any of 
 you ever do an act, even the slightest, of
 
 Deacon Sawrey Explains 225 
 
 kindness to him? Why should he love you, 
 eh? You would have let him starve you, 
 in your comfortable homes, with plenty to 
 eat and drink! Did any of you remember 
 that the same hand that made you, made 
 him, and give him so much as a crust of 
 bread? No! for if you had he would have 
 remembered it! That dog " pointing to 
 the big, fierce head * * remembers kindness 
 just as well as injuries! And, I warn you, 
 be careful what you say before him. He 
 listens to you and understands! " 
 
 " Yes! " leered Gus. " An' you an' he 
 understand each other, don't you? Yes, 
 you're a pair of you! " and he nodded his 
 jhead mysteriously, as if he could explain 
 that phenomenon if he would. 
 
 " And I understand you! " cried out the 
 old woman suddenly. "I'm uncanny! I've 
 bewitched this dog we're in league with 
 evil ! Oh, I know what you say, down there, 
 you poor, ignorant creatures ! ' ' she went on 
 vehemently. " It was people like you who, 
 in old times, burned the witches! "
 
 226 John o' Partletts' 
 
 " Yes," roared Gus with conviction, as if 
 she had made an uncommonly fine point 
 there ; ' * and a good thing, too ! ' ' 
 
 " Let me tell you," she exclaimed in a 
 softer voice, for once unheeding his taunt, 
 ' ' the witchery I have used it is kindness ! 
 Did you ever think of that? And let me tell 
 you something else something that min- 
 ister of yours perhaps has never told you, 
 with all his precepts and preachings! Re- 
 member that when you ill-treat any creature, 
 be it ever so humble or despised, you do, not 
 only it, but yourself, an injury! Do you 
 know why? Because," she cried, with sud- 
 den emphatic earnestness, raising her face, 
 and pointing upward to the star-lit sky, 
 11 you put yourself out of harmony with this 
 great universe, and out of touch with the 
 will of your Creator, who made all things! ' ! 
 
 She stood with her form drawn up and her 
 arm still raised, looking large in the dark- 
 ness of the night, like a heaven-pointing 
 statue of a woman. 
 
 And Gus, with unwonted quietness,
 
 Deacon Sawrey Explains 227 
 
 mounted his horse, and when he had ridden 
 away, turned and saw her still standing, with 
 the great, fierce dog's head under her hand, 
 as if she were, in some struggling way of her 
 own, striving to communicate with the spirit 
 of that universe with the will of her Crea- 
 tor. 
 
 It was not until he was half-way down the 
 hill, and Partlettsville again in sight, that 
 he recovered his ease and self-possession 
 sufficiently to mutter something about the 
 " preachifyin' old lunatic! " 
 
 The day but one after this, Deacon Saw- 
 rey, seated comfortably in his parlor, sur- 
 rounded by many treasures of the upholster- 
 er 's art in green and blue, and with the sun- 
 shine flickering discreetly over the carpet 
 pattern through closed shutters and lace cur- 
 tains, leaned back in his chair, and rattling 
 the money in his pockets as an expression of 
 his satisfaction, informed his wife that a 
 matter he had lately much upon his mind, 
 and given his earnest attention to, was quite
 
 228 John o' Partletts' 
 
 clearing up, that is to say clarifying itself, 
 and, in short, coming to a successful con- 
 clusion. 
 
 Mrs. Sawrey hoped sincerely that it was 
 a successful money transaction, but she was 
 scarcely less pleased when the deacon ex- 
 plained to her the matter in hand. 
 
 As he had been born in Partlettsville he 
 knew as much about the property there- 
 abouts as any one. He had always under- 
 stood that the estate to which the hill of Part- 
 letts' belonged could not be sold as it was to 
 be held in trust for a length of time which 
 had not yet expired. Therefore, the agent 
 who had sold the old woman her land had 
 done it on his own responsibility, without 
 due regard to exact, legal conditions and 
 therefore and so on and much more 
 which was not exactly clear to Mrs. Sawrey 's 
 mind. What was clear, however, was that 
 her husband had patiently and persistently, 
 during three months, hunted out and com- 
 municated with the really responsible par- 
 ties, whose interest he had aroused, partly
 
 Deacon Sawrey Explains 229 
 
 through the weight of his own importance, 
 and partly by representing in a vivid man- 
 ner the awkward situation of Partlettsville 
 in having a crazy and absolutely dangerous 
 person in such close propinquity. And, with 
 many flourishes of rhetoric, and many hints 
 as to the ableness and cleverness with which 
 he had conducted the affair, Mr. Sawrey at 
 length gave his wife to understand that mat- 
 ters were so put in motion that all that was 
 now necessary was the signature of a num- 
 ber of persons in Partlettsville to a paper 
 containing a report of what he had set forth. 
 Which paper was to be sent abroad to certain 
 of the owners of Partletts', then travelling 
 in Europe, who, after perusal, would undoubt- 
 edly put their signatures to another paper, 
 which in time being returned to this country, 
 would enable the owners on this side of the 
 water to turn a little legal machinery which 
 would eventuate in turning the old woman 
 out of her property and freeing Partletts- 
 ville, be it hoped, of her presence forever. 
 Having delivered himself of these facts,
 
 230 John o' Partletts' 
 
 Deacon Sawrey, with one last, triumphant 
 jingle, took his hands out of his pockets, and 
 standing up, shook out his trouser legs, look- 
 ing down upon them with an expression of 
 critical satisfaction. 
 
 11 And so, my dear, by Spring I shall see 
 that something radical is accomplished. In 
 the meantime if it should come to the old 
 woman's ears it might cause her to behave 
 less offensively than formerly," he concluded 
 with a smile which seemed to say that he had 
 already spent too much of his valuable time 
 upon such a trivial affair. 
 
 It chanced that on this same afternoon, at 
 this very hour, the Witch and Jim were 
 seated in the kitchen, with the big dog at 
 their feet, earnestly discussing and absorbed 
 in the most elaborate plans for the beauti- 
 fying of the little place. There was to be 
 a new star-shaped bed of red and white ver- 
 benas, like one which Jim had seen at 
 " Marse Desverney's." There was to be a 
 mound of fern and wild violets. A purple
 
 Deacon Sawrey Explains 231 
 
 clematis was to be coaxed to grow with the 
 white one which already covered the little 
 porch. And finally Jim prophesied, with a 
 solemn roll of his eyes, and a look of some- 
 thing like rapture pervading his earnest lit- 
 tle countenance : 
 
 " Please de Lord, Mis' Beevish, when de 
 Spring come we is goin' to make dis here 
 de wery purties' spot ob groun' in de whole 
 country! "
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 WINTER 
 
 THE driving storms of Winter were send- 
 ing their snows flying over Partletts', swirl- 
 ing in the hollows and lying like a long, white 
 mantle between the Witch's cottage and the 
 ocean, along the smooth, steep slope. 
 
 Lonely enough was Partletts ' now ; neither 
 hunter nor wood-cutter woke the silence, only 
 could be heard the occasional snapping of a 
 twig, the murmur, now low, now high, of the 
 ever hurrying winds, and the scamper over 
 the crusted snow of a rabbit. Down below, 
 from the other side of the hill's crest, could 
 be seen the Partlettsville high road, a line 
 of white, broken by tracks of wheels, and 
 here and there trampled into black, icy mud. 
 And from the town itself rose the smoke 
 from the chimneys, rising in a thin line into 
 the cold air, then suddenly turned, harried, 
 and driven earthward by the bleak wind. 
 232
 
 Winter 233 
 
 The row of firs on the crest of the hill, 
 and the big pine and the little one bent to 
 the same chill airs, but beyond, in the dip of 
 the hollow, on the protected side of the hill, 
 the Witch's cottage stood snug, and any 
 night one might see the cheerful light from 
 her kitchen windows shed in two bright 
 streams over the lonely waste of white snow. 
 
 But it was seldom that any one passed 
 here; once a month, however, in the early 
 afternoon, several pedestrians made their 
 way somewhat to the fore of the brow of the 
 hill, down along the protected slope, and so 
 on out of sight. They were very gay, and 
 lively, and little; they wore mittens, or red 
 gloves, and bright caps; they were, in fact, 
 the children of the Partlettsville Sunday 
 school choir on their way to the big church 
 on the outskirts of Abbottsville, where chil- 
 dren from all parts of the scattered country- 
 side met once a month to practise together 
 to the music of a fine organ. This choir 
 practice was a great pleasure to the little 
 ones, and it was seldom that the weather was
 
 234 John o' Partletts' 
 
 too cold or rough for them to venture forth. 
 Many a wild afternoon they could be seen 
 scurrying along the road, their laughing 
 faces held down against the wind, all ven- 
 turesome, happy and ready for their three 
 mile walk, which had the big church and won- 
 derful organ at the end of it, and many faces 
 as merry and rosy as their own to greet 
 them. 
 
 Now, children do not always do as they 
 are told, and these particular children hav- 
 ing been warned to keep strictly to the high- 
 road, and not to deviate therefrom, did noth- 
 ing of the sort. Instead, they walked out of 
 Partlettsville along the highroad until a turn 
 hid them, and then they scrambled up the 
 hill of Partletts' with all possible zeal and 
 celerity, took a wood track which led within 
 sight of the Witch's cottage, down on the far 
 slope, and so on into the Abbottsville turn- 
 pike, thereby forming for themselves a steep, 
 but very desirable short cut. Their " paddy- 
 cut," they called it; and as soon as the town 
 was out of sight the shout would go up:
 
 Winter 235 
 
 < i 
 
 Now for the paddy-cut! ' And there 
 would be a run and a dash, so that the bigger 
 ones were half-way up the side of Partletts' 
 before they paused to draw breath. 
 
 The parents of all those children would 
 have been assured that the Witch would 
 frighten them, or the big dog bite them, 
 should they show their noses on Partletts'. 
 But the children had found to the contrary. 
 Though they had at first undertaken to ven- 
 ture over the hill in a spirit of daring, when 
 they found it convenient and safe for no 
 one molested them they made it their reg- 
 ular route. It is true that when they passed 
 in sight of the Witch's cottage they made 
 great haste and were very quiet, but for all 
 that the Witch saw them, and John o' Part- 
 letts' felt them. Lying on the kitchen floor, 
 with doors and windows all tightly sKut, he 
 would suddenly raise his great head, roll his 
 eyes at the Witch, and his bristles could be 
 seen to rise a little. 
 
 " Never mind, John man," the old woman 
 would explain, " it's just the children! '
 
 236 John o' Partletts' 
 
 And down would go the great head again, 
 while the little, watchful eyes closed. 
 
 But the old woman would stand long at 
 the window watching the hurrying little pro- 
 cession; and at such times there was a look 
 upon her face so softened that those who 
 saw it only under other circumstances must 
 have wondered. 
 
 But now a very great loss and tribulation 
 was come to Partletts'. 
 
 In the chill grey of an early winter's morn- 
 ing the Witch, Jim and John, ploughing 
 forth through a heavy drift of snow, made 
 their way to the little low-roofed stable 
 whose solitary stall harbored the Witch's 
 oldest friend. Very old was he, and he had 
 passed through many hands before he came 
 into her possession; patient and willing, 
 with that almost infinite patience and willing- 
 ness of the old work horse, old Job had 
 served her with all his strength and intel- 
 ligence for years. 
 
 But his strength had been waning; only
 
 Winter 237 
 
 an easy life and a minimum of labor had 
 kept him on his legs during the last year. 
 And lately the Witch had often stood by his 
 stall watching Jim measure out the grain 
 and shake out the straw with a deepening of 
 her hawk eyes and a slow shake of her head. 
 
 This morning, Jim carrying the measure 
 of oats as usual, the Witch unlocked the 
 door, John pushed his great head forward, 
 the three entered and stood still. 
 
 In the silence of the night, with that quiet 
 resignation that belongs to his kind, old Job 
 had lain down upon his straw for the last 
 time. From beneath an old, striped com- 
 forter pinned about him his legs stretched 
 forth stiffly. They had moved over miles 
 and miles of roadway, rough and even, stony 
 and smooth, as Fate had sent, in the service 
 of others ; they would never bend to the will 
 of man again ! 
 
 The old woman quietly walked over to the 
 side of the stall, and looked down upon the 
 big, rusty head, the wide open eyes, and 
 slowly the lines of her strong face broke in
 
 238 John o' Partletts' 
 
 deep emotion, for, in this moment, she 
 seemed suddenly to feel a whole world of 
 patient endurance, tragedy, death epitomized 
 in the rusty face, the wide, fixed eyes of her 
 old horse. 
 
 She took a shawl from her shoulders, laid 
 it over the still head and covered the set eyes. 
 
 11 Come, little Jim! " she said softly. 
 
 And in silence the three filed out into the 
 chill of the winter morning and the solemn 
 quiet of the hill. 
 
 In the little stable all was very still. Old 
 Job lay beside the strange old carriage, as 
 ancient, decrepit, as much ridiculed in its 
 time as he but neither was ever to be seen 
 upon the Abbottsville turnpike again. 
 
 In the very midst of her disinterested grief 
 and sorrow for the old friend who had served 
 her for so many years, the Witch began to 
 feel herself confronted by a formidable, 
 practical problem. She would not deal in 
 Partlettsville indeed the feeling between 
 herself and the tradespeople there made such
 
 Winter 239 
 
 a thing impossible now. How, then, was she 
 to obtain her supplies with the necessary 
 regularity, her horse being dead and Ab- 
 bottsville over three miles away? True, the 
 hardy old woman and the dog were able to 
 make this trip as often as was required, but 
 the problem was concerning Jim. 
 
 The child had come to her delicate. His 
 hard experiences in Partlettsville among 
 strangers had undermined his slender store 
 of vitality; care, and the healthful life of 
 Partletts ', had helped to pull him together ; 
 but his extreme terror on the August night 
 when he was stolen, and also on the occasion 
 of the fire scare at Partletts', had had their 
 effect upon him. He was easily tired, and 
 readily thrown into a chill by long exposure 
 to the icy winds. For him, therefore, to walk 
 through snow and cold to Abbottsville when- 
 ever the exigency should arise was impossi- 
 ble. But it was equally impossible to leave 
 him alone at home. The Witch feared to 
 do so since she had learned what might come 
 of it; and as for Jim, the very thought of
 
 240 John o' Partletts' 
 
 being left by himself in the cottage was now 
 so fraught with terror that the mere idea 
 caused him almost as much fright as if his 
 late captors had presented themselves bodily 
 before him. 
 
 There was nothing for it then but to essay 
 the trip in concert. This was done, but, on 
 the third occasion, encountering a heavy 
 wind on the way home, Jim reached the cot- 
 tage so chilled and exhausted that the Witch 
 was afraid to expose him thus again, and she 
 herself felt an extreme weariness. The only 
 one of the party who appeared perfectly 
 fresh and cheerful was John o' Partletts'. 
 He enjoyed the whole performance from be- 
 ginning to end, and trotted up the hill in the 
 teeth of the rising gale as hardily and quickly 
 as if it were no more than blown thistle- 
 down. He was encumbered too, for the pack- 
 ages and bundles being numerous, the Witch 
 had given a share to the strongest of the 
 party, which manoauvre she had accom- 
 plished by making a strong sort of woollen 
 bag as wide as the dog's deep chest, and this
 
 Winter 241 
 
 was attached around his neck, and further 
 strengthened by a remarkable array of 
 straps which went over his shoulders and 
 under his fore-arms. It was decidedly a 
 strange contraption, and quite like the Witch 
 to make it of size, shape and color which 
 defied all appearances. 
 
 John o ' Partletts ' had no shame in wearing 
 it, however. His mistress assured him that 
 it made him most useful, and that he was 
 rendering her a valuable service, and, if he 
 did not comprehend her exact words, he fully 
 understood the gist of them, and more than 
 all, he understood the meaning in her eyes 
 when she informed him of these things. And 
 he wore his outlandish equipment, which, by 
 the way, had been made out of an old, flow- 
 ered sofa cover, with quite an air of pride, 
 as if he were honorably ornamented, and 
 most willingly bore whatever burdens were 
 packed and tied about him. 
 
 Seeing him bear himself so cheerfully thus 
 laden, a further idea occurred to the Witch. 
 Why not let John o' Partletts' go down alone
 
 242 John o' Partletts' 
 
 for the supplies? He could make frequent 
 trips, thus never be heavily burdened, and 
 in this way her dilemma about Jim would be 
 entirely surmounted. She had not the slight- 
 est fear but that she could make the dog un- 
 derstand her wishes ; and he could make his 
 trip not along the Abbottsville turnpike 
 but along a track leading through a quiet 
 strip of woods, which opened out almost 
 directly behind Mr. Finn's store, as it stood 
 on the outskirts of Abbottsville. After a 
 little further thought she resolved to try it. 
 
 It was a success! A success from every 
 point of view, especially the dog's. The 
 great beast felt his importance. When the 
 time came to go he was always expectant and 
 ready. 
 
 Hence could be seen the unique spectacle 
 of an enormous animal, strangely capari- 
 soned, trotting into Abbottsville, on frequent 
 occasions, and into the store of Mr. Finn; 
 which gentleman would receive his visitor 
 with many remarks and commendations as 
 to his sagacity ; feel in the bag of many col-
 
 Winter 243 
 
 ors for a paper which contained the list of 
 articles required; fill the bag with said ar- 
 ticles ; adjust the wonderful arrangement of 
 straps, which at first had been puzzling 
 but a careful study on the part of Mr. Finn 
 had elucidated the problem and out would 
 go John o' Partletts' to push through the 
 amused and staring spectators on the side- 
 walk, turn a corner, traverse an empty lot or 
 two, plunge again into the woods and the 
 little wood-track for home. 
 
 A wondering customer, one day, observing 
 Mr. Finn take a bill from the dog's bag, 
 count up the value of the purchases, and re- 
 place some change, exclaimed : 
 
 " Money, too! You receive and send 
 money? " 
 
 " Everything," exclaimed Mr. Finn tri- 
 umphantly, as if it were a device of his own 
 ingenuity, ' * goes and comes by that dog ! 
 And what, let me ask you, could be safer! 
 For his part, we know he 's honest ! And * ' 
 laughing as the dog's great bulk filled the 
 entrance to the shop, and some incoming cus-
 
 244 John o' Partletts' 
 
 tomers backed away hastily * ' look at him ! 
 Who'd tackle him, do you think, eh? " 
 
 And so John o' Partletts' became recog- 
 nized in Abbottsville as a useful member of 
 society. Mr. Finn bragged of him to all 
 comers. He told how he served the lonely 
 old woman and sickly child, and when the 
 big dog made his appearance in the street 
 more than one person stepped aside more 
 in deference than in fear and more than 
 one voice called out right heartily to him 
 that he was a fine fellow! 
 
 And far up on Partletts ' the old Witch and 
 Jim, listening to the rising wind, would talk 
 of " Marse Johnny; " figure what portion 
 of the road he had reached, and listen, as 
 dusk gathered, for his quick scratch and 
 whine at the door.
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 JOHN O' PARTLETTS' IN THE DAEK VALLEY 
 
 ONE'S fame is never confined to the ears 
 of one's friends. If such were the case this 
 pleasant state of affairs might have gone on 
 for long and John o' Partletts' continued his 
 trips indefinitely. 
 
 But Gus Schaftsmire also went regularly 
 into Abbottsville to receive the supplies for 
 his father's shop, and before long he heard 
 of the big dog, and at length, being in the 
 vicinity of Mr. Finn's store, caught a glimpse 
 of him. 
 
 " Oh, ho! " he exclaimed, " so it's you, 
 is it? An' ain't that the most ridiculous 
 sight! " he guffawed. 
 
 But those about him not seeming to see 
 
 so much humor in the situation, he subdued 
 
 his mirth, scratched his ear thoughtfully, 
 
 and, driving back to Partlettsville, spread 
 
 245
 
 246 John o' Partletts' 
 
 the news of what he had seen, which was re- 
 ceived there with plenty of amusement and 
 comment. 
 
 " An' you know," said Gus with the pecul- 
 iar whine that always came into his voice 
 when his feelings were hurt, " it ain't very 
 pleasant now, is it, to hear the big brute 
 praised, knowin' what I know about him? 
 An' him marchin' round, all importance, 
 while I got the mark of his teeth in my leg 
 this minute! " 
 
 And, incensing himself by a still further 
 recollection of his injuries, he reverted to his 
 original opinion, expressed many a time con- 
 cerning John when he was John Frenchy. 
 
 " He'd ought to have a load o' lead in him 
 anyway, that's what he'd ought to have! 
 But, strange thing," he added, " I never 
 meet him on the Abbottsville turnpike; I 
 guess, ' ' finished Gus, in his braggadocio way, 
 " he and I'd have come to conclusions if I 
 had! " 
 
 " Oh, most like," suggested Kitty Merry- 
 weather, " she sends 'im some private way
 
 John o' Partletts' in the Dark Valley 247 
 
 of 'er own; some back track through the 
 woods! " 
 
 " Most like she does!" exclaimed Gus. 
 " An' just there you give me an idea! Just 
 there you set me to thinkin'! " 
 
 " Thinkin' about what? " asked Kitty, 
 laughing. " Don't overwork that head-piece 
 of yours, Gussie; you know it ain't over 
 strong! " 
 
 " Just wait," replied Gus, " till I get it 
 all straight in my own mind, an' I'll ac- 
 quaint you with the details. An idea's oc- 
 curred to me, that's all! " And again he 
 scratched his ear and lounged away, an un- 
 usually thoughtful expression on his florid 
 face. 
 
 After this, for several weeks, Gus was 
 secret, and very quiet. His favorite haunts 
 knew him no more; he was seldom found 
 hanging about the main street; kept very 
 sober, and even his customary potations of 
 beer being neglected at the little Partletts- 
 ville saloon, the bartender was constrained 
 to inquire:
 
 248 John o' Partletts' 
 
 11 What's become of Gussie? What's he 
 up to, these days? " 
 
 As for that young man, he was continually 
 finding excuses to go over to Abbottsville. 
 He no longer complained that the road was 
 tedious, nor that it was hard a fellow should 
 be expected to spend his life driving a cart 
 and nag from one town to the next. And 
 instead of reappearing, as in old times, at 
 the shop in a marvellously short space of 
 time, his horse in a lather, his load shaken 
 up with the haste of the journey, he seldom 
 reached home before dark; and his irate 
 father complained now as much of tardiness 
 as, in times past, he had lamented his sense- 
 less and rash speed. 
 
 Willie Merryweather was seen to be part- 
 ner upon these lone excursions, and, had any 
 one been at the other end of the route, the 
 two would have been observed dodging about 
 the woods that skirted Abbottsville, watch- 
 ing and peeping, and when they returned to 
 Partlettsville they usually met again in the 
 evening in Kitty's kitchen, where they held
 
 John o' Partletts' in the Dark Valley 249 
 
 a sort of session, to which were admitted 
 Michaelson and others. 
 
 Various mysterious allusions would then 
 be made, such as from Grus : 
 
 " It would best be pulled off somewhere 
 not too near Abbottsville. You see, them 
 folks over there ain't any too good friends 
 of mine! " 
 
 " Oh, let it come off somewhere near her 
 own 'ouse," Kitty would break in. " It 
 would give her a good scare, and make her 
 see what she kin expect, an' that she ain't 
 so independent of us! " 
 
 " Mayhap it would cause her take a fright 
 an' clear out before the Deacon turns her 
 out, ' ' suggested Michaelson. 
 
 The Witch had lately begun to feel more 
 and more anxious about John o' Partletts' 
 when he was off on his errands. Perhaps 
 one reason for this was that lately, when the 
 dog returned, he came rushing up in a great 
 hurry with a worried and furtive expression, 
 and during the whole evening, as he lay by
 
 250 John o' Partletts' 
 
 the fire, would start and growl in his sleep 
 as if alarmed or disconcerted. 
 
 " Why, what's the matter, John? " she 
 would exclaim, looking at him when he raised 
 his head, as if to read an answer in his eyes. 
 
 Her anxiety communicated itself to Jim, 
 and soon it came about that neither of them 
 could do anything when John was gone but 
 listen for his return. Yet, neither wished 
 to alarm the other. Jim would loiter near 
 the window, pretending to be idly looking 
 out, but in reality, watching. And the Witch, 
 if she heard a noise, would raise her head 
 with a sudden start, and then lower it again, 
 as if she had merely jerked it in harmony 
 with the tune she was humming. 
 
 One afternoon it was now late in Janu- 
 ary John had departed on his errand. He 
 had been long gone. Dusk closed in and the 
 kitchen lamp was lighted. Jim and the old 
 Witch occasionally glanced at the clock, then 
 at each other, but neither spoke. Black dark- 
 ness fell outside. Suppertime arrived. The 
 fire in the kitchen stove required brighten-
 
 John o' Partletts' in the Dark Valley 251 
 
 ing, and Jim stepped down into the wood- 
 shed to get an extra armful of wood ; he left 
 the kitchen door open behind him, but he did 
 not return through it, for, at the moment he 
 stepped into the wood-shed, something hap- 
 pened. 
 
 In the meantime John o' Partletts' had 
 gone to Mr. Finn's store, got his parcels and 
 his change, and was returning. As the early 
 dusk fell, he trotted along the wood path 
 briskly, his fierce little eyes glancing from 
 side to side with a suspicious expression. 
 
 At a certain spot where the wood was very 
 dense he slowed up and glanced toward the 
 road ; there stood a horse and cart ; he had 
 seen them there frequently, also two figures 
 lurking in their vicinity; but this time he 
 did not see the figures! This was why he 
 paused. He knew they were there, he felt 
 them ! With rising bristles he glanced about 
 him, and then instinctively, glanced straight 
 up. It was dark now, and by the human eye 
 nothing could be seen but the densely woven
 
 252 John o' Partletts' 
 
 branches, black against the blackness of the 
 winter sky. But the animal eyes saw some- 
 thing more; they saw figures, not two, but 
 many, crouching motionless; and eyes, hu- 
 man eyes, all looking downward toward him, 
 and filled with a certain definite intent. 
 
 John o' Partletts' never paused. Perhaps 
 he remembered that day when something 
 bright had flashed out at him, and he had 
 been so mysteriously stung with a terrible 
 pain; perhaps he felt, instinctively, his in- 
 evitable helplessness against his enemies 
 thus at close range. At any rate, he wheeled, 
 and, quicker than thought, went galloping 
 like mad, straight through the underbrush, 
 for the Abbottsville turnpike. Lowering his 
 great head, he smashed and tore through the 
 thick dried branches and vines. In scarce an 
 instant he was gone, out of sight, and only 
 the rumble and crackling, as he rushed on, 
 told of his passage through the lonely wood. 
 
 Those left behind had not had time to act. 
 
 " Tricked again! " came a voice from the 
 branches; it was Michaelson's.
 
 John o' Partletts' in the Dark Valley 253 
 
 < i 
 
 No not on your life! " cried another, 
 Gus Schaftsmire 's. " We're out to get him, 
 an' we'll do it! Follow me! ' : Gus' voice 
 was fairly shaking. He was the quickest, the 
 most inventive, and daring of them all, and 
 the others slid down the tree in obedience to 
 his command. 
 
 There was a run for the wagon, which had 
 been left, not on the turnpike, but on an old 
 wood road, long in disuse, called the English 
 road, which ran between the dog's wood 
 track and the Abbottsville turnpike. The 
 English had made it in Revolutionary times, 
 and, to judge by appearances, it had neither 
 been repaired nor used much since. 
 
 Gus leaped into the seat while the others 
 scrambled aboard, and took up the reins. 
 
 " Good Lord, Gussie! " cried out Kitty 
 Merryweather she had been seated in the 
 wagon all the while, watching through a hole 
 in the canvas to see the fun * ' have a care 
 for us, do! Oh, Lord! Ain't you the crazy 
 head, though ! ' ' 
 
 For the wagon leaped and bounded, now
 
 254 John o' Partletts' 
 
 on three wheels, now on two, over rocks, logs 
 and drifted snow, at the most astounding 
 rate, while Gus encouraged his horse to a 
 yet faster pace. 
 
 ' ' We got to head him off ! " he explained. 
 " He's goin' along the Abbottsville turnpike; 
 but I guess I know the spot where his 
 Highness is bound to come out, near 
 the top of Partletts'. "We got to nab him 
 there! " 
 
 " Near the top of Partletts'! " repeated 
 Kitty. ' ' What in plain sight o ' the old 
 woman's 'ouse? " 
 
 " What do you suppose I care for that? ' 
 shouted back Gussie, holding on to the sway- 
 ing vehicle, and looking at the others. " I 
 come out here to git him, an' I'm goin' to 
 git him, this time! Go along there, will 
 you? " he cried, again leaning over the 
 straining horse. 
 
 What happened while Jim was in the wood- 
 shed was this. 
 
 A cry came to his ears, wild, hoarse, be- 
 tween a howl and a bellow; it had fright in
 
 John o' Partletts' in the Dark Valley 255 
 
 it, surprise, terror, and appeal, and, right in 
 the middle, as it reached a crescendo, it was 
 suddenly choked off, and a dead silence fol- 
 lowed. 
 
 Jim listened, frozen by the sound for a 
 moment. The next he had thrown open the 
 outer door. From the distance came voices, 
 and something that sounded like a moan, 
 but not in a human tone! And then Jim, 
 shrinking, timid little Jim, was outside of 
 the wood-shed, in the open, the biggest stick 
 he could snatch in his hand, screaming at 
 the top of his voice! 
 
 " Mis' Beevish, Mis' Beevish! Some- 
 body's got Marse Johnny! " And he was 
 rushing toward the sound of those voices, 
 and that faint other sound, as if he were a 
 whole army, a veritable troop of cavalry in 
 himself. In truth, had any one seen his 
 little, black face at this moment, there would 
 have appeared no fear in it. It was ablaze 
 with frantic excitement. Marse Johnny had 
 helped him once, and now it was Jim's 
 turn now 1
 
 256 John o' Partletts' 
 
 The old Witch needed no second call, no 
 repeated warning. At the sound of the first 
 cry she was on her feet. She threw open the 
 window to hear the better, and the icy wind 
 rushed in, also the sound of those voices in 
 the distance. Her face whitened, and, turn- 
 ing, she glanced about her with blazing eyes ; 
 they fell upon a knife that lay upon the table 
 near her, and catching it up, she rushed out 
 into the night, without stopping to protect 
 herself from the cold, muttering and gestic- 
 ulating with raised arms. 
 
 The snow lay deep on the ground and was 
 glazed over, the night being bitterly cold. 
 The moon had risen, and was just above the 
 tree-tops, brightening the great hollow of the 
 vast star-lit sky, and casting a clear light 
 upon the white ground. 
 
 The old woman came abreast of Jim, but 
 neither spoke; they ran, swift as shadows, 
 and as silent. 
 
 She passed the boy, slipped, fell, and he 
 was on ahead, not pausing to look back ; but 
 the next instant, with wonderful quickness,
 
 John o' Partletts' in the Dark Valley 257 
 
 she had regained her feet and had taken the 
 lead. So they ran, nearer to the voice?, 
 nearer to that low, strange moaning. And 
 then the voices ceased, and the moaning also, 
 and all was silence. Little Jim, listening in 
 vain for a repetition of its sound, fluttered 
 his hands with a gesture of helpless despair 
 as he ran, but he never abated his speed for 
 one second; and the old woman never 
 paused. Until, suddenly, they both stood, as 
 by one impulse, still and panting. 
 
 They had reached the brow of the hill and 
 were looking down. 
 
 Directly before them, about forty paces 
 down the side of the steep slope, stood a 
 thick clump of tall chestnut trees, their 
 branches inextricably interwoven, and from 
 one of these hung a dark, heavy form; the 
 wind slightly swayed it, and a faint, convul- 
 sive shudder passed through it from head to 
 foot, as if it were the last tremor of life ; and 
 then it hung stiff and motionless; only the 
 gale swung it slightly sidewise, ruffling the 
 heavy, coarse hair that stood out stiffly as if
 
 258 John o' Partletts' 
 
 it had bristled thus at the moment of danger 
 and surprise. 
 
 The Witch was at the base of the tree, 
 knowing not how she had gained it, how she 
 had traversed the space that separated her 
 from it, knowing only one thing, that she 
 could not reach the body, nor the rope by 
 which it hung ! She dropped her head on her 
 hands, and then another realization came to 
 her ; those who had done this were still 
 within call! And she cried out in a voice in 
 which there was no anger nor violence, only 
 the most beseeching entreaty : 
 
 " Is there no one here who will help met " 
 
 In all the wood there was silence as if not 
 a creature moved or heard. 
 
 But just at her elbow she could hear, for 
 the second time in her life, a very small 
 voice, saying words the most welcome to her 
 ear: 
 
 " Mis' Beevish, I is here! "
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 A GLIMPSE OF SPRING 
 
 How little Jim scrambled into the tree, cut 
 the rope which bound the great dog with the 
 knife the old Witch thrust into his hand, how 
 John o' Partletts' body fell with a thud to 
 the ground, how they got him home, and 
 whether dead or alive, it did not belong 
 to the Partlettsville folk to know ; for, at the 
 first sound of the old woman's voice, they 
 scurried away through the underbrush, no 
 one wishing to be recognized and identified. 
 
 Days passed, and weeks, and those who 
 had entrapped him on that January night 
 were entirely satisfied that he was safely 
 dead and buried. " Under the lilacs! " re- 
 marked Gus with a smile. For they knew 
 that he had been wounded. Two of them 
 had had " a go " at him, and both shots had 
 taken effect. 
 
 Indeed it goes without saying that John o ' 
 
 259
 
 260 John o' Partletts' 
 
 Partletts' was badly wounded before any 
 man among them dared put a rope about his 
 neck, and tie him to a tree ! 
 
 But dead he was not ! as any one passing 
 the Witch's cottage on bright afternoons in 
 late February could have testified. There he 
 might have been seen sitting in the sun, or 
 walking up and down, slightly lame, it is 
 true, but otherwise apparently strong and 
 hearty. 
 
 It was the choir children who finally took 
 this news down to Partlettsville. They re- 
 ported that they had seen the big dog, 
 though, as Partletts' was forbidden ground 
 for them, they were careful not to mention 
 where. 
 
 The Witch's grief and rage over the whole 
 affair were mingled with self-reproach. She 
 could not forgive herself for exposing a 
 faithful friend to such a danger, and she 
 remarked to Jim: 
 
 " He'll never go on another errand, I'll 
 starve first! "
 
 A Glimpse of Spring 261 
 
 But starvation was not practicable; she 
 therefore did something almost as painful 
 as that alternative to her nature. She low- 
 ered her pride. 
 
 Never at least since she had come into 
 this part of the world had she asked a 
 favor of any one. It is safe to say she would 
 not have received a favor had it been freely 
 offered her. But now she was forced to ask 
 and receive. 
 
 It was said that she quite broke down, 
 when, in Mr. Finn's store, she told him of 
 what had occurred and was forced to ask him 
 to help her out of her difficulties. There 
 were tears in her voice, and in her eyes, when 
 she related how her messenger had been 
 served; and she, who had always striven to 
 be independent and self-reliant, spoke of her- 
 self as a friendless old woman. 
 
 Mr. Finn expressed sympathy and regret 
 at losing John o' Partletts' for a customer: 
 " As polite and well behaved as any who 
 came into my store, Ma'm! " But more 
 than sympathy and compliments, he gave his
 
 262 John o' Partletts' 
 
 promise that he would send provisions over 
 the three miles to Partletts'. In those days 
 tradesmen never thought of sending dis- 
 tances, and this was indeed a favor! 
 
 Consequently, after this, at stated inter- 
 vals, a horse and wagon could be seen break- 
 ing the long untrodden snow line on the 
 steep slope of Partletts', bearing, through 
 the rigid, bitter season, the necessities of life 
 to the three in their lonely isolation on the 
 hill top. 
 
 The old woman seen in Mr. Finn's store 
 would scarcely be recognized as the one who, 
 a few days later, met Gus Schaftsmire and 
 Michaelson on the high road. Deeply 
 wounded as she was, far more deeply than 
 had they taken their revenge upon her own 
 person she was about to pass them in 
 silence; but they could not resist taunting 
 her, and she stopped at length to answer 
 their taunts in kind, when who should come 
 stalking toward them, bent on his parochial 
 rounds, but the " Maister " himself. Tall,
 
 A Glimpse of Spring 263 
 
 judicial, self-contained, he paused to listen 
 to the Witch's reproaches, which were inci- 
 sive enough, once she was well started, and 
 especially since she perceived him as audi- 
 ence. Michaelson and Gus were wise enough 
 to cease their snickering and grimacing, and 
 they even managed to assume expressions of 
 innocence and surprise. 
 
 Suddenly Mr. Carruthers turned to them, 
 and pointed along the road. 
 
 " Pass on, don't stop here! " he said in 
 his authoritative manner. And when Gus 
 and Michaelson, triumphant and amused, 
 were out of ear-shot, he turned to the old 
 woman. 
 
 " I am not at all surprised," he remarked 
 in his grave, confident voice, " at your ma- 
 king a commotion in a public place, because 
 I have heard of your doing so before! I 
 understand that it is of a mishap to your 
 dog you are speaking, and I have not a doubt 
 that your accusations are wild. And, even 
 if they are not, your appearance certainly 
 is ! It seems very far from commendable
 
 264 John o' Partletts' 
 
 that you should berate your fellow-men in 
 defence of an animal ! Surely you do not put 
 a soulless brute above human beings? " 
 
 The Witch looked at him for a full half- 
 minute. Her lips were trembling, and so was 
 her throat, as if with a torrent of words 
 which her emotion checked her from uttering. 
 But when she spoke it was quietly: 
 
 1 ' And who made him, then, my soulless 
 brute? Perhaps, Henry Carruthers, you can 
 tell me ! that he should be at the mercy of 
 my fellow-creatures to ill-treat and abuse as 
 they please? " And she passed on without 
 another word, along her lonely way to the 
 steep ascent of Partletts', looking sad, grave, 
 and more broken than ever before. 
 
 But Spring was now again blessing the 
 land ! Even in this part of the world, where 
 she showed her face with more than her pro- 
 verbial coyness even here, in spite of all 
 her vagaries, her presence was felt, felt 
 in the warm sunshine, and the lengthening 
 days. And there were evidences of her in
 
 A Glimpse of Spring 265 
 
 the brightening skies, and in quick-fleeing 
 March birds. 
 
 Wiseacres, however, shook their heads. 
 For the ground was still frozen, the nights 
 continued cold, and streams wore their thick 
 winter coating of ice. 
 
 It was not until a certain day in March 
 that the temperature sprang up. Then, as if 
 by magic, the ground seemed to melt under- 
 foot, evergreens appeared vivid, the sun- 
 shine was proclaimed as hot; and beneath 
 the ice, the waters, released from a hundred 
 high sources, could be heard tinkling and 
 surging against their yet tenacious ice cov- 
 ering. 
 
 With the enthusiasm of the season, people 
 walked with lighter, quicker steps. In Part- 
 lettsville cheerful, and even gay, greetings 
 were exchanged. Old Elsa, looking out from 
 the Rectory kitchen at the flooding sunshine, 
 yielded at length to little Margy's oft re- 
 peated entreaties that she be allowed to go 
 with her brothers and sisters to choir prac- 
 tice.
 
 266 John o' Partletts' 
 
 And that small person, much too enthusi- 
 astic to contain quietly such an amount of 
 pleasant expectation, went jumping about 
 the big kitchen on her toeg, pretending to 
 clap her hands, and making motions with her 
 rosy little mouth as if she were shouting, 
 though not a sound came forth ; for Fa- 
 ther was in the house and must not be dis- 
 turbed 1 
 
 And the grave man, shut up in his study 
 and glancing from his window, saw the dart- 
 ing birds and brightness, too; and for a 
 moment stood looking out at them with some- 
 thing hungry and wistful in his eyes. But 
 he turned from them with a sigh, and seating 
 himself at his desk, continued writing upon 
 a discourse in which this world was set forth 
 most uncompromisingly as a Vale of Tears. 

 
 CHAPTER XXH 
 
 THE STORM 
 
 OP course on such a day the Witch was 
 out in her garden. The happy moment had 
 arrived when she could begin Spring work 
 upon it, and she and Jim were scraping 
 around the roots of the shrubs, pruning dead 
 branches, tying up live ones, while John o* 
 Partletts', stretching, and blinking his little 
 eyes, strolled after in his own enjoyment of 
 the occasion. 
 
 Very early in the afternoon the Sunday 
 school children went by, more hastily than 
 usual, because the old woman and the dog 
 were out. The Witch, shading her eyes, 
 looked at them with her customary intent- 
 ness. 
 
 All the children of Partlettsville were 
 there this afternoon. Willie Merryweather 
 
 267
 
 268 John o' Partletts' 
 
 in the fore, and plump, petted Eva Sawrey 
 in the rear. Mittens and mufflers had been 
 discarded, and they made a gay little pro- 
 cession, some bareheaded, swinging their 
 hats and caps as they walked. 
 
 And there, too, was little Margy Carru- 
 thers, the smallest and merriest of all. The 
 most fearless, too, for, seeing the old Witch, 
 she waved her hand, and when the old woman 
 returned the salutation, nodded her head 
 until her yellow curls fairly jigged to and 
 fro with the readiness and heartiness of her 
 response. 
 
 Then Jim and the Witch returned to their 
 work, forgetting the passage of time; yes, 
 and even to eat, so great was their interest 
 and enthusiasm. 
 
 It was not until the afternoon was waning 
 that the old woman finally looked about her 
 and exclaimed: 
 
 " Dark coming already, Jim! " 
 
 Jim straightened himself and looked up, 
 too. But it was not the dark coming. The 
 sun was shrouded under heavy clouds, and,
 
 The Storm 269 
 
 as they spoke, a chill wind swept up from the 
 ocean. 
 
 * ' A sea change ! ' ' decided the Witch. 
 
 They went into the house and there found 
 that the clock marked only half -past three. 
 
 Now, the Witch being an enthusiast, her 
 wish to finish tying up her shrubs on this 
 very day was supreme. She therefore decided 
 to leave Jim with John o' Partletts', and go 
 down to Partlettsville to purchase the neces- 
 sary heavy twine ; a proceeding which should 
 not take over thirty minutes. 
 
 She was surprised, when she opened the 
 kitchen door, at the rate at which the wind 
 blew, and at the heavy, steel-black clouds 
 which were piling up in the sky. 
 
 It was cold, too ! She drew her old mantle 
 about her and ,tied her red headdress 
 firmly. 
 
 1 1 The wind has changed ! Shut the house 
 tight and keep indoors, Jim! " she called 
 back, and the next minute had reached the 
 top of the hill and was out of sight over its 
 brow, on the road to Partlettsville.
 
 270 John o' Partletts' 
 
 She walked as swiftly as she might with 
 the wind in her face and pelting her at every 
 step; but, being an enthusiast, and a very 
 hardy one, she had not the slightest notion 
 of turning back. 
 
 She reached Louisa Myers' little store, the 
 only one in Partlettsville that she would 
 enter, for, when in her shop, Louisa was 
 always extremely polite ; the thrifty German 
 allowed neither her own temper nor personal 
 feeling to interfere with trade. ' * Shop man- 
 ners ! " as Kitty Merryweather said disdain- 
 fully ; and once when that short-sighted per- 
 son had advised the quarrelling with, and 
 ejection of, a certain impertinent customer, 
 Louisa had replied with a sage shaking of 
 her big blond head: " Oh, yes, quarrel! 
 Push her out of der shop ! All very well for 
 you to say, but mit me it is business first and 
 pleasure after! " 
 
 The Witch was, therefore, received ur- 
 banely, the twine bought, and a little con- 
 versation thrown in for good measure. 
 
 " A great changement in the weather! "
 
 The Storm 271 
 
 remarked Louisa. " And all der children 
 over to Abbottsville ! Mrs. Sawrey's twice 
 been down the road looking for Evey, but 
 there's no expecting dem yet, not before 
 half -past five ! ' ' 
 
 The Witch scarce replied she wasted no 
 words on any Partlettsvillite and turned 
 to open the door. In an instant she had all 
 she could do to hold it in her hand, for the 
 wind whistled in a gale, and Louisa threw 
 herself over her counter and held on to it as 
 if she were afraid it would blow away. 
 
 And now, back up to Partletts', this time 
 with the wind behind. But before she had 
 gone ten paces it was doing as it pleased with 
 her. It snatched off her old mantle and 
 whirled it; threw her partly to her knees, 
 and when she recovered and staggered for- 
 ward again, took her stout, solid form and 
 sent it running, her wide blue cotton skirts 
 spreading about her like sails. Of course it 
 did not occur to her to return and see per- 
 chance if the gale would pass over, her 
 one thought was to get back to the cottage
 
 272 John o' Partletts' 
 
 and Jim. It was not until she was half-way; 
 up the hill that another thought came to 
 her. 
 
 The children ! If she could scarcely stand 
 before this, how were they to face it? At 
 the thought she turned her own face toward 
 it for a moment. 
 
 The clouds were racing up toward the 
 middle sky, heavier and denser; the wind 
 smelt of cold; and, on the instant, stinging 
 into her face, came hard, icy particles of 
 sleet. She shut her eyes against them, and 
 moved forward. This was no passing gale, 
 but a storm! 
 
 As she hurried on she recalled how she had 
 seen the children pass in the sunshine three 
 hours before, lightly clad. They would have 
 left Abbottsville half an hour ago now, and 
 be on their road, perhaps just ascending 
 Partletts'. 
 
 Ascending Partletts'! Why, she was the 
 only person who knew where they were! 
 Who, if any mischance befell, could tell of 
 their whereabouts! For well she divined
 
 The Storm 273 
 
 that their passing over Partletts' was a 
 secret kept from parents and friends. 
 
 " Oh, that they may go by the high road 
 to-day! " she thought. 
 
 But no ! Childlike, thinking it the quickest 
 route, they would be more likely than ever 
 to take the hill, in spite of its greater ex- 
 posure. And who was the oldest, supposedly 
 most responsible one among them? Willie 
 Merryweather, a poltroon and coward! 
 
 Before she had reached home the sleet was 
 like a veil, blurring familiar objects and cov- 
 ering the ground with its icy particles, ma- 
 king the walking difficult. But she did not 
 turn in at her cottage. Passing it, and gro- 
 ping on, her head covered with her mantle, 
 she reached the barn, caught up all the har- 
 ness and straps that had belonged with her 
 old equipage, and then made her way back 
 to the house. 
 
 Jim and John o' Partletts' were in the 
 kitchen, the lamp lighted, for though it was 
 scarcely five o'clock the storm had brought 
 with it black darkness.
 
 274 John o' Partletts' 
 
 The instant Jim looked at the old woman's 
 set, white face and blazing eyes he knew that 
 something more than the elements had moved 
 her. But, as for her, she looked at John o' 
 Partletts' and: 
 
 " John man, I've work for you to do! " 
 she said grimly.
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 THE SEABCH 
 
 THEN she sat down and unwound all the 
 twine, which she doubled, twisted, and bound 
 with as strong a rope as possible, cutting up 
 the leather harness and straps to supplement 
 it; afterwards adding all the rope and all 
 the strong cloth that could hastily be found 
 about the house, stripping this up and bind- 
 ing it. 
 
 Her intentions she explained to Jim in a 
 few words, and when her arrangements were 
 ready she called John o' Partletts' and fast- 
 ened the leather portion securely about his 
 broad chest and shoulders. The rope she 
 passed once around her own waist ; the short 
 end was attached to the dog's impromptu 
 harness, and all the long end, of many yards, 
 she gathered up carefully and looped over 
 her arm. Then lighting two lanterns, one of 
 
 275
 
 276 John o' Partletts' 
 
 which she tied to the dog's collar, the other 
 to the rope at her waist, and wrapping her- 
 self in a heavy shawl, which she securely 
 pinned and tied, she was ready to start. 
 
 But Jim, who had silently left the room 
 a few moments before, now reappeared 
 swathed in all his winter clothes, and with 
 a bright red comforter which he had taken 
 off his bed, wrapped over his head and ears, 
 and fastened about his small person with the 
 aid of a mighty number of safety-pins. 
 
 The Witch looked at this apparition 
 sternly. 
 
 " Jim! " she commanded, " take off those 
 things ! You are not going out ! ' ' 
 
 Then Jim, for the first time, rolling his 
 eyes, looked at the Witch defiantly. 
 
 "Mis' Beevish, I is," he declared. " Ef 
 I goes out wid you-all I kin stand itl But 
 ef you leaves me here alone in de house wid 
 dis here storm I is sure die ob de fright ! ' * 
 
 The Witch being a person to whom the 
 sufferings of the spirit were quite as pres- 
 ent as those of the flesh, said not another
 
 The Search 277 
 
 word. She quickly untied the rope about her 
 waist and put the boy in her place, tying her- 
 self behind him, thus placing him in the 
 safest position, between herself and the great 
 dog. Then, putting out the lamp, she opened 
 the door. 
 
 The light from their lanterns shone upon 
 a wild slither of wind and snow. John o' 
 Partletts' raised his head, sniffed the air, 
 and stepped forward. And the other two fol- 
 lowed him out into the icy blackness of the 
 night. 
 
 The Witch had no need for any one to 
 point her way; silently she took it, around 
 the curve of the little garden, forward for 
 about fifty paces, and then down the steep, 
 narrow wood-track toward the Abbottsville 
 turnpike. 
 
 On this steep space she expected to find 
 the children. Confused by the wind and 
 drifting snow, they might have wandered off 
 the direct path; in that case she trusted to 
 the light of the lanterns, hallooing, and the 
 sagacity of the dog to find them.
 
 278 John o' Partletts' 
 
 And all this while, heard by her, for the 
 wind drove straight np from Partlettsville, 
 came the harsh, doleful clang of iron upon 
 iron. Down there they were organizing 
 search parties and calling the men together, 
 as they did at times of fire, by the old-fash- 
 ioned method of striking upon a great semi- 
 circular iron hoop that hung in the main 
 street for this purpose. She knew that such 
 parties would infallibly go along the high- 
 road, therefore they could not possibly con- 
 nect with the children. On her efforts and 
 those of John o' Partletts' depended their 
 safety perhaps their lives ! 
 
 Each moment told her that she had not 
 exaggerated the danger. The wind drove 
 forward, and in the swirling white mist she 
 endeavored vainly to keep her bearings. But 
 the dog, with powerful plunges, went on, and 
 in the dimness, from time to time, some fa- 
 miliar form of rock or tree told her that they 
 were still on the right path. 
 
 The snow was drifting heavily now. How 
 they were to return through it, with the wind
 
 The Search 279 
 
 leaping at their faces, the Witch did not 
 know but still they struggled on. " The 
 children! " she kept reiterating; " the chil- 
 dren, John man! " 
 
 Occasionally she would pause, halloo aloud, 
 and wave her lantern, but its light shed only 
 a feeble ray through the white chaos, and her 
 call, the moment it left her lips, was borne 
 away and smothered in the shrill voice of the 
 blast. 
 
 The thought of the helpless children was 
 so strong upon her that she groaned aloud. 
 ' ' If only they keep together ! ' ' she mur- 
 mured. But perhaps already they were a 
 scattered band, each battling his own way. 
 In that case, what suffering and helpless be- 
 wilderment for the weaker ones! Little 
 Margy Carruthers' golden head, shaking in 
 merry, friendly salutation, came before her; 
 through the whirling darkness it beckoned 
 her and she seemed again to see the sweet, 
 affectionate, undimmed eyes looking at her 
 beneath the curls: " No, darling! " she mut- 
 tered, setting her teeth, and pushing on;
 
 280 John o' Partletts' 
 
 1 ' you shall not suffer here ! No, lamb no, 
 you shall not I ' ' 
 
 In the meantime a furiously driven cart 
 had passed along the high road; a lantern 
 waved from it, and voices shouted. In it 
 sat Deacon Sawrey, pale, huddled up in the 
 straw that had been hastily thrown into it, 
 and silent. And with him were others, men 
 and women, too. They also were pale, and 
 wore expressions more and more distracted. 
 Gus Schaftsmire was driving, his services, 
 horse, and wagon having been hurriedly 
 hired. Along the road they rushed, the wind 
 behind them. Two, three miles were trav- 
 ersed, and the Abbottsville church reached. 
 But it was silent not a light gleamed. 
 Into the town of Abbottsville, then, to make 
 inquiries; at last to find a responsible per- 
 son and to hear that the children had left 
 long ago an hour and a half ago, when it 
 seemed that the storm was but a passing 
 gust. And they had gone along the road to 
 Partlettsville ; they had been seen to start
 
 The Search 281 
 
 they must be along that road somewhere, 
 now! 
 
 Back again then, more slowly, and with 
 more frequent shouting, with more distracted 
 faces, and alarm increasing. How they could 
 have missed their way upon the highroad 
 was a mystery. It was lonely, bordered by 
 fields and orchards, but walls and fences 
 marked the length of it. The dreadful cer- 
 tainty that, in spite of this, the children had 
 wandered off somehow, became more and 
 more apparent. They gazed into the white 
 chaos about them, patiently raising the lan- 
 tern at every step, and shouting; but noth- 
 ing was revealed no answer came. 
 
 Now an approaching light flashed, accom- 
 panied by the jingle of sleigh-bells, and 
 strained, anxious voices cried out for the 
 news. 
 
 This was a fresh party just starting out 
 from Partlettsville, where nothing had been 
 heard, and not a child had arrived. In the 
 front seat, driving the pair of horses, sit- 
 ting very erect, his pale but determined face
 
 282 John o' Partletts' 
 
 looking boldly out into the night, was Henry 
 Carruthers himself. He had left a home des- 
 olate and silent enough, every one of his 
 eight children was out of it ! His eyes flashed 
 through the darkness, as he asked the curt 
 question : 
 
 " Nothing heard! " 
 
 "Nothing, sir!" cried out Gus Schafts- 
 mire. The big horses felt the whip, and the 
 sleigh shot out of sight. 
 
 Deacon Sawrey stood up in the back of the 
 cart, crying: 
 
 " Turn, follow him! " 
 
 And Gus silently turned his horse's head 
 again, and sped after the sound of the bells.
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 THE BESCTJE 
 
 As they rushed, in a kind of hopeless haste, 
 through the whirling darkness, listening to 
 the noisy bells in front, suddenly the sound 
 of those bells ceased with a vehement jingle 
 as the horses threw back their heads, being 
 brought to a sudden stop. 
 
 Across a narrow, steep chasm, from a little 
 hut on the far side, a voice hailed them. It 
 was hoarse and harsh as it sounded through 
 the driving wind; it was echoed by a deep, 
 bellowing bark, and the next instant, from 
 out the hut, dimly seen through the white 
 mist, came the gleam of a lantern. 
 
 " Who are you? -What do you wish? " 
 Henry Carruthers's clear, strong voice 
 sounded across the little stream that ran 
 between the steep banks, separating them, 
 
 283
 
 284 John o' Partletts' 
 
 and he sprang out of the sleigh, holding the 
 reins in his hand, as he stood on the bank, 
 waiting for the answer. It came : 
 
 " Cross the bridge! Come over! Your 
 children are here ! ' ' 
 
 In that moment of relief no one paused 
 even to speak. 
 
 In a breath every one was out of the two 
 vehicles, and the horses were tied. The little 
 bridge stood two paces beyond, crossing the 
 stream which ran at the base of Partletts'. 
 The moment they had crossed it the wind 
 seemed to cease ; the big hill sheltered them. 
 The wild storm whirled over the highroad, 
 but here was comparative peace. And there, 
 in the little hut before them, stood a figure 
 holding a lantern aloft, a great, burly head 
 pushed out beside it coated with snow, a 
 strange little form, swathed in a bright, red 
 counterpane which had come unloosed and 
 was hanging bedraggled, leaned, panting in- 
 side the doorway ; and beyond were faces, 
 a group of small, pinched faces, wild-eyed 
 and pale.
 
 The Rescue 285 
 
 Then came cries of joy and of recognition. 
 The children ran out of the hut, and the 
 anxious searchers each looked for the face 
 so dear, that they had believed lost. 
 
 And none looked in vain; all were here! 
 Kitty Merryweather, her Maggie under one 
 arm, and her Willie's red head clasped to 
 her breast, shed the most grateful tears of 
 her life; and Willie, all the hypocrite and 
 bully shocked out of him, threw his arms 
 about her neck, and clung there, crying: 
 
 " Oh, Mother I Mother! " 
 
 After came the explanations, how the 
 Witch, or, rather, John o' Partletts', for 
 she had left all to his sagacity, only follow- 
 ing him, had found them crouched behind 
 a boulder, slightly protected by it, but in the 
 very path of the storm, beaten by it, while 
 the drift rose ever higher about them, afraid 
 to venture on, forgetting in the blackness and 
 cold even the point in the path they had 
 reached and not knowing which way to turn. 
 How she had tied them all firmly into her 
 long rope, and putting the dog in front, and
 
 286 John o' Partletts' 
 
 herself in the rear, had kept them all to- 
 gether, and brought them here ; for she had 
 remembered this little abandoned hut by the 
 stream, and knowing they could never reach 
 her cottage on the top of Partletts' had felt 
 that, if necessary, they could endure here 
 through the night. 
 
 But her strongest hope had been through 
 all that some searching party would find 
 them; and so it had come about. 
 
 Then there was wonder how the children 
 could so have lost their way upon the turn- 
 pike, and wandered up to Partletts' ! It was 
 no time for deception of any sort. The truth 
 was instantly blurted out. They always went 
 that way! Indeed, they knew it was very 
 wrong but it had become their regular 
 route ! 
 
 If it was the time for confession it was the 
 time also for ready forgiveness. And per- 
 haps it can be understood that there was no 
 relaxing of the affectionate embraces that 
 clasped these too venturesome wanderers. 
 
 But one face here changed at this revela
 
 The Rescue 287 
 
 tion. As they stood in a close group, shel- 
 tered from the storm, on the one side by the 
 hut, on the other by the great hill, with the 
 light of the lanterns full upon their faces, 
 something unwonted and gentle could be seen 
 to pass from Henry Carruthers ' eyes ; their 
 stern, smouldering look returned, while they 
 slowly and definitely sought those of his eld- 
 est son. The boy, guilty and conscious, was 
 already looking at his father's face, and, in 
 the midst of all the tenderness and affection 
 that was surrounding them, their eyes met 
 with a kind of shock. 
 
 4 ' You have disobeyed me 1 " commented 
 the man. 
 
 " Yes, father," said the panting boy; " I 
 know I have! But all went the other way, 
 and I we did not want to go alone by the 
 lower road." 
 
 " You have been deliberately disobeying 
 me for months," came the steady, implacable 
 voice. " You are older than your brothers 
 and sisters and I shall hold you responsi- 
 ble I " His lips slightly tightened, and the
 
 288 John o' Partletts' 
 
 boy's face, already pale, turned a shade 
 whiter. 
 
 There was no question, of course, of the 
 minister punishing the child here, but his 
 face, and the look the two exchanged, spoke 
 eloquently of what would come hereafter. 
 
 After that short dialogue, which was dis- 
 tinctly spoken and heard by all, a dead si- 
 lence fell. 
 
 But only for a moment. For the next it 
 was broken by a short, piercing scream. 
 
 Little Margy Carruthers had been stand- 
 ing beside her brother and he had held her 
 hand in his, but when he turned to speak to 
 his father he unconsciously released the lit- 
 tle fingers, and the child, seeing her father's 
 stern glance bent upon them, stepped back 
 without looking behind. She was near the 
 edge of the steep bank ; in an instant she had 
 gone over it, down twelve, fifteen feet to the 
 stream below; the ice, weakened by the 
 warmth of the preceding day, cracked, gave 
 way; the bright, golden head showed for
 
 The Rescue 289 
 
 an instant against the black water, and then, 
 carried on the stream by its swift flow, dis- 
 appeared beneath the yet unbroken ice fur- 
 ther down. 
 
 In the cry of terror that followed and the 
 frightened rush to the edge of the bank the 
 minister was before all. No one had ever 
 impugned his courage, and he intended to 
 take that leap, though he could swim but lit- 
 tle. Only, for a moment, he paused, raising 
 his lantern high, glancing along the bridge 
 for the best spot for springing off. 
 
 But there was one among them who neither 
 hesitated nor paused. Before Henry Car- 
 ruthers could draw himself together, before 
 the first cry of surprise and terror had died 
 away, there was a rush, a great form sprang 
 outward from the bank, for an instant it 
 seemed almost to hang in the air, and then 
 it descended ; there was a splash, a churning 
 up of the black water, and John o' Partletts* 
 head arose, glistening in almost the very 
 spot where the little girl's golden curls had 
 disappeared a moment before.
 
 290 John o' Partletts* 
 
 Then began a struggle which none who saw 
 ever forgot. 
 
 The dog began to work and fight his way 
 along the stream, smashing the ice with pow- 
 erful strokes of his fore-feet, sometimes al- 
 most lying over it in order to keep himself 
 from being borne under it by the swirling, 
 rushing water. The stream, a mere runlet 
 all Winter, was now swollen, the effect of 
 the past few hours of thaw being to send the 
 water rushing into it from all its sources 
 with a vehemence that bore the great dog's 
 body forward swiftly, threatening every mo- 
 ment to rush it into the darkness and silence 
 under that veil of ice where the child was 
 already gone. 
 
 No man, however strong of body, however 
 powerful of will, could have done what the 
 great beast was doing now smash a track 
 for himself with that pitiless current tear- 
 ing at him. But the dog struck and battered 
 with bleeding paws, and, after each effort, 
 flung his head upward with tremendous 
 strength.
 
 The Rescue 391 
 
 All along the bank a score of lanterns 
 moved in company with his progress, shed- 
 ding their light down into that cavern of 
 darkness. Voices were hushed, only an awe- 
 struck whisper, or exclamation, could be 
 heard now and then; but every eye was 
 strained for a glimpse of that huge, fear- 
 some, glistening head, as if the very world 
 hung upon its movements. 
 
 Henry Carruthers, seeing the animal 
 struggling desperately in the black water, 
 in search of his lost child, would have sprung 
 after to aid him, utterly futile though such 
 an effort must have been, but a strong, de- 
 taining hand was laid on him. 
 
 11 What can you do! Stand back." It 
 was the Witch's voice, and it continued, 
 full of its accustomed vehemence and feel- 
 ing: 
 
 ' ' Just now, you thought only of punishing 
 your son! If you had taken your daughter 
 into your arms instead this would not have 
 happened! " The hand held him, and the 
 unsparing voice went on :
 
 John o' Partletts' 
 
 " When you go to her who left them to 
 you, account to her for this ! ' ' 
 
 It was a terrible taunt to throw at him at 
 such a moment! The man's white face grew 
 whiter ; he looked at her as if she had struck 
 a blow straight to his heart, and he slightly 
 staggered and leaned against the doorway of 
 the little hut, covering his face with his 
 hands, and behind those sheltering hands he 
 whispered passionately : 
 
 "Oh, God! Oh. my God!" 
 
 At that instant there was a cry. 
 
 The dog had disappeared. His whole body 
 had gone down, out of sight beneath the piti- 
 less covering of ice near the bank. A few 
 breathless seconds and the black waters were 
 churning again. They thought that, ex- 
 hausted, he had been submerged ; but he had 
 dived, and now his great head reared, and 
 in his mouth he bore the little figure, which 
 he had torn out from among clutching roots 
 and branches. 
 
 There was another cry; this time of hope
 
 " ' ONE MORE STROKE, OLD MAN! BRING HER IN.'
 
 The Rescue S93 
 
 and encouragement. A score of hands 
 reached out; a score of voices, loosed from 
 the silence and anguish of suspense, shouted ; 
 and Gus Schaftsmire, stretching out over the 
 dark water while the animal, burdened by the 
 weight of the child, made painfully toward 
 the bank, was crying out : 
 
 " One more stroke, old man! Bring her 
 in! " 
 
 Then he burst into a shout of frenzied 
 enthusiasm, for the rough head was under 
 his hand, the snorting nostrils in his face. 
 
 It seemed as if nothing so fragile and deli- 
 cate could come alive out of that black death- 
 water. But the child lived ! She lay breath- 
 ing in her father's arms, her drenched, 
 golden hair scattered over his shoulder. 
 They snatched her from him to take her into 
 the shelter of the hut, but he had felt her 
 stir, had seen the flicker of life pass over her 
 closed lids and with a bursting heart and all 
 unnerved he dropped upon his knees. 
 
 John o' Partletts' walked over to the old 
 woman. She looked into his eyes with the
 
 294 John o' Partletts' 
 
 words: " Ah, John man! " That was all, 
 but how intensely spoken! And they re- 
 mained, drawn apart from the others, ignor- 
 ing their applause, alone, as they had always 
 been, and wished to be. 
 
 The minister's voice broke a long silence. 
 In trembling tones he spoke broken words of 
 thanks. All took them up. 
 
 But the old woman appeared not to hear. 
 Picking up her harness and long rope, she 
 began looping them over her arm, her hawk 
 face set and half averted. 
 
 " You have given me back all that I prize 
 on earth! " It was Henry Carruthers's 
 voice, speaking in tones lower, less confident 
 than had ever been heard before; " I do 
 thank you, I " 
 
 But she turned and stopped him. 
 
 " What are you thanking me for? " she 
 cried out proudly. " Your child has been 
 saved from a terrible death because there 
 was just one creature here that had the 
 strength and the ability and, more than 
 that the courage and the heart to do it!
 
 The Rescue 295 
 
 That was not I it was no man nor woman 
 among us ! " She pointed to the panting dog 
 beside her, and threw back her head with a 
 vehement gesture of something like triumph. 
 ' ' It was the soulless brute ! It is to him that 
 you owe all ! M 
 
 He met her meaning glance, and in his 
 eyes, slowly, painfully, dawned a look of 
 humility. 
 
 " Yes," he admitted in a broken voice, " it 
 is true! I owe it to him! " 
 
 " Then," said the Witch, advancing 
 toward him, her eyes flashing, while the man 
 looked up at her as she held her lantern 
 above his white face, for he still kneeled in 
 the snow, ' ' if you admit that, you admit that 
 what you despised has saved you! What 
 you thought too low and contemptible even 
 for pity has been the instrument chosen to 
 help you in your hour of greatest need ! Let 
 that teach you that God is mighty in His use 
 of everything that He has made! God has 
 made everything, but His world is going 
 on about you; His world of beauty, love,
 
 296 John o' Partletts' 
 
 feeling, that has not even reached you ! You 
 are blind yet you have never doubted your 
 own vision! Doubt it now, Henry Carru- 
 thers! I told you once before, and I say it 
 to you now again: Open your heart! Open 
 your eyes! Look about you! " 
 
 And thus, before his own congregation, 
 having lectured the kneeling minister, the 
 old woman turned, adjusted her headdress, 
 and began arranging the rope about her 
 waist. Voices vainly urged her to return to 
 Partlettsville ; not to attempt the bitter trip 
 up the hill, alone. 
 
 " No! " she replied, indomitably; " as we 
 came, we will go! " 
 
 She adjusted the dog's harness, tied little 
 Jim before her, and, as the three turned to 
 face the heavy blast, a broken, timid woman's 
 voice whispered : 
 
 "God bless you, Ma'm, an* your 
 dog!" 
 
 Two hours later Henry Carmthers sat 
 alone in his study. The lamp burned low
 
 The Rescue 297 
 
 and a new-lit fire sparkled in the grate. He 
 sat with his face in his hands, motionless. 
 He seemed to hear a voice repeating: 
 * ' Beauty Love Feeling ! ' ' He seemed 
 to see the face of his dead wife, tender and 
 charming. How often he had quenched the 
 smile there! How often his stern precepts 
 had over-ridden and smothered her expres- 
 sions of love and gentleness 1 And how had 
 it come about? He had not meant it to be so. 
 Early in his life he had not been so. But 
 rigidity and an unyielding sternness had so 
 grown upon him that he was like a man of 
 iron, and could neither smile nor bend. The 
 hard thing had grown to seem to him, with- 
 out examination, the right thing; the harsh 
 action, inevitable; the gloomy, dark path, 
 the only true one ! And all the while that he 
 had suffered, closing himself into this iron 
 armor, those about him had suffered, tool 
 
 Tears fell from his eyes and flowed 
 through his fingers. Love! Beauty! Feel- 
 ing! How had his married life slipped by, 
 joyless, like dry dust and ashes, with no
 
 298 John o' Partletts' 
 
 sparkle, no sunshine 1 And now, to awaken 
 to the wrong of it, after she was gone too 
 late! He wrung his hands, and that bitter 
 thought the bitterest in the world : * ' Life, 
 love, how have you escaped me! " wrung his 
 heart. He bowed his head with a redeeming 
 meekness, a redeeming, self-searching sor- 
 row, and let the tears flow. 
 
 They flowed warm, breaking down hard- 
 ness, encrusted self-esteem and resolute self- 
 repression. And at last, when he raised his 
 head, they still filled his eyes. 
 
 Too late ! Too late ! But no. Those warm 
 tears had already washed away the bitter 
 sorrow of that thought! Thank God, it was 
 not too late! He was still, comparatively, a 
 young man ! He still had his children her 
 children their lives in his keeping. 
 
 He rose, drew a deep breath, then walking 
 to the hall door, threw it open, and called his 
 son's name. 
 
 The boy, sitting over his untasted supper, 
 waiting this call, started as if an electric
 
 299 
 
 shock had passed through him. He walked 
 through the hall and stood in the study door. 
 
 rThe room before him was associated with 
 nothing but humiliations. He had always 
 entered it with a beating heart and left it 
 with a heavy and bitter one. 
 
 But it was a pleasant enough room in it- 
 self, especially to-night, with the bright fire- 
 light dancing over it. But he saw none of 
 its brightness; he saw only the tall figure 
 before the fire. 
 
 Suddenly his father turned, and there was 
 a look so gentle and so deeply softened on 
 his face that the boy, with the quickness of 
 a sensitive child, dropped his eyes. He felt 
 that he had inadvertently surprised that look 
 upon his father's face. That look could not 
 be intended for him I 
 
 But "it was for him! An arm drew him 
 into the bright circle of the firelight and he 
 heard a voice saying : 
 
 " I think we can understand each other 
 better than we have done; at any rate, we 
 are going to try."
 
 800 John o' Partletts' 
 
 And then his father was holding him 
 closer, and saying: 
 
 "My dear boy, I love you dearly I 
 never knew how dearly until to-night! I 
 want you to try to love and trust me." 
 
 And when the boy felt a kind hand press- 
 ing his cheek, heard the kind voice in his ear, 
 a thousand memories of his mother, of her 
 gentleness and love, came over him, and with 
 all the impulsiveness of an affectionate, but 
 pent up nature, he threw his arms around 
 his father 's neck, and dropping his head upon 
 his shoulder, wept there, for the first time in 
 his life, unashamed, and unafraid.
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 
 PABTLETTS' AT PEACE 
 
 IN Partlettsville, during the next few days, 
 a quiet prevailed that was something like 
 awe. 
 
 A paper was silently passed around and as 
 silently signed. It was to be sent across the 
 water to the heirs of Partletts ', contradicting 
 a former one, and requesting that the present 
 inhabitant of the hill be left there unmo- 
 lested. 
 
 On the following Sunday, when the min- 
 ister stood in the pulpit, he spoke of a debt 
 of gratitude, undying, to one near at hand. 
 His eyes sought, through the open window, 
 the hillof Partletts', shining green in sweet 
 beauty under the renewing touch of Spring; 
 and those who listened heard, for the first 
 time, a tremor in his clear, steady voice, and 
 saw the glitter of tears in his eyes. 
 
 301
 
 302 John o' Partletts' 
 
 That night at the Rectory a letter was 
 sealed and directed to a great orphan asy- 
 lum, at the far end of the state, stating that 
 the child for whom a home there was nego- 
 tiating, would remain undisturbed where he 
 was. 
 
 "Hie child was little Jim, who lay, at this 
 time, inert in the Witch's cottage. That 
 night of adventure and bitter exposure had 
 overtaxed his frail strength. He weakened 
 rapidly, and the Witch sat beside him, watch- 
 ing his difficult breathing. 
 
 She sat striving to subdue the fear in her 
 heart that the delicate child was leaving her 
 for no earthly home ; striving to console her- 
 self with the recollection that his last year, 
 though separated from his old home and his 
 own people, had been a happy one ; and with 
 the thought that, if death came to him, he had 
 found it in an effort to save others. 
 
 Quiet, therefore, and with what resigna- 
 tion she could summon, the grim old woman 
 sat beside the child in the still, spring after- 
 noon. The lisp of the brook running gently
 
 Partletts' at Peace 303 
 
 at the foot of Partletts', the faint creak of 
 the boughs of trees about Jim's own garden, 
 stirring in the light breeze, came in at the 
 open window ; but the only sounds she heard 
 were the child's painful breathing and his 
 half-wandering words. His little, dark face, 
 with its strange expression of half-fright, 
 half -wonder, as if he were already far from 
 her, faring forth alone to some unknown 
 country, kept her heart beating unevenly. 
 Once she rose, the breathing came so softly 
 she feared that it had ceased. But no, the 
 lips were murmuring, and then a quavering 
 little voice began to chant: 
 
 "01' Mis'iscallinM 
 01' Mis' is callinM 
 Ol' Mis' is callin' me! " 
 
 It grew weaker, died away, a faint smile 
 closing the lips. 
 
 Long the Witch sat, her hands over her 
 face, the great dog at her feet still, beside 
 her. She dared not look at the small, meagre 
 body on the bed lest she should see that a
 
 304 John o' Partletts' 
 
 very good, loyal little soul was passing away 
 " over 'cross Jordan " 
 
 Tlie minutes ticked on and on; the dog, 
 drawing himself closer, laid his great head 
 against her skirt, his little eyes raised in 
 sympathy the hrook of Partletts ' wandered 
 on to its unceasing tune, the soft breeze 
 stirred, and then suddenly from the bright 
 western sky the setting sun shot a red gold 
 beam through the window, flooding the room. 
 It passed its glorious touch over the child's 
 closed eyes. 
 
 Suddenly Jim moved; he raised himself, 
 and the light from the bright, western sky 
 flooded over his whole face and form. It 
 seemed to him that this splendid light was 
 shining through the glistening leaves and 
 over the yellow fruit of the big orange trees ; 
 he smelled the orange flowers, and then, sud- 
 denly, his eyes widened, the strange far-away 
 look faded out of them as they rested on the 
 Witch, who had risen to her feet, with John 
 o' Partletts'. 
 
 He knew them ! He reached forth a small,
 
 Partletts' at Peace 305 
 
 claw-like hand, and a deep, slow voice, with 
 the old, queer little quaver of cheeriness in 
 it, was saying: 
 
 " Mis' Beevish I'se been a-driftin r , 
 seems like, a-driftin' fur ! But I dun come 
 home to yo' ! Mis' Beevish Marse Johnny! 
 I dun come home to yo', sure I " 
 
 All this happened many years ago, and 
 very peacefully, very beautifully has Part- 
 letts ' spread its slope toward the sun during 
 the seasons that followed, and very plain, 
 grim, and colorless has stood Partlettsville 
 at its foot. The little stream tinkles past as 
 in days gone by, and the aged willow trees 
 stand whipped, topped, and bent down like 
 old men, ancient and weary sentinels. 
 
 But down the slope, passing under the 
 grim, old trees, and into the town, little 
 Jim has learned to come with a confident 
 heart. 
 
 " Little " Jim no longer, however. He is 
 known through the countryside as Jimmy, 
 for though he has grown taller and broader,
 
 306 John o' Partletts' 
 
 and is, in fact, become quite a self-reliant and 
 sizable person, there is still something droll, 
 something akin to ehildlikeness about the 
 dark face, there is indeed such a general 
 readiness about it to show the whites of the 
 eyes and two rows of white teeth in the 
 peculiarly ready and humorous smile of his 
 race that one would scarcely be likely to 
 address him formally as Jim. 
 
 As Jimmy, then, he goes. Sometimes as 
 "Jimmy o' Partletts'; " sometimes as 
 " Mis' Beevish's Jimmy." 
 
 Should you chance to wander into this 
 corner of the world you might meet him 
 almost any day, driving a light spring wagon, 
 painted green, drawn by a sleek horse, and 
 plentifully filled with a supply of neatly ar- 
 ranged, fresh vegetables. Which horse and 
 wagon presented to him by none other 
 than the Partlettsville folk, when Jim during 
 the years that have slipped by began a mod- 
 est enterprise of his own in the way of 
 "truck g-yardenin' " are his pride and 
 joy.
 
 Partletts' at Peace 307 
 
 And such a spot has become that truck 
 garden! The Witch, Jimmy, and the sunny 
 slope of Partletts' forming a famous com- 
 bination, so that " Partletts' Farm " has 
 become a name almost of wonder; and 
 Jimmy drives his sleek horse, which wears 
 the gayest red tassels bobbing from its har- 
 ness, and his green wagon, over the whole 
 countryside to the old southern darkey-ped- 
 dling tune of : 
 
 " Sweet corn an' termaters gwine by! 
 All fresh an' fine, ladies! 
 Jes' from de vine, ladies! 
 All fresh an' fine! " 
 
 !AJad down in Partlettsville trade is brisk; 
 from the Rectory, where old Elsa oversees 
 the buying with shrewd, just eye, to Kitty 
 Merry weather's, at the end of the high 
 street, where Louisa Myers also steps out 
 of her shop to stand, chatting and bargain- 
 ing. 
 
 " Them's fine cabbage fo'yo', Kitty! Big 
 as my head! " she remarks, selecting and
 
 308 John o' Partletts' 
 
 turning in her large hands her chosen vege- 
 table. 
 
 And Kitty's shrill voice pipes : 
 
 " An' them termaters ripe on both sides, 
 so early! Jus' fine! An' good-lookin' white 
 onions yo' got there, Jimmy! My Willie's 
 favorite dish! Ain't it a crime his not bein' 
 here to enjoy it! " 
 
 For Willie, at the age of seventeen, betook 
 him to a life upon the high seas, where, ac- 
 cording to his mother, he has become ' * a fine 
 sailor lad! " He has passed out of our ken, 
 let us therefore hopefully accept such ac- 
 claim as impartial truth. 
 
 At any rate, a very trim, pretty, and gentle 
 maiden is Maggie, as she stands, slightly 
 shaking her head in disapproval of her 
 mother's too ready acceptance of all things 
 extra in the way of " good measure," which 
 Jimmy is prone to " throw in," just as, in 
 the old days, his Grandmammy did, before 
 him. 
 
 Thus, on his rounds, passes Jim; on to 
 Deacon Sawrey's, to Michaelsons', the
 
 Partletts' at Peace 309 
 
 Schaf tsmires ', and still further until he ar- 
 rives at Abbottsville, where Mr. Finn, much 
 greyer than formerly, but as kindly and 
 polite, usually " cleans out " what remains 
 in his wagon. 
 
 Then home again, along the Abbottsville 
 turnpike, which is just as of yore with its 
 orchards and stone walls, cheerily jingling 
 the money in his pockets, whistling and ad- 
 dressing frequent conversational remarks to 
 the alert, brown ears of his horse, who, in 
 compliment to an old friend, bears the name 
 of Job Junior. 
 
 And now, walking along the ridge of Part- 
 letts', you might chance at any time to come 
 upon the figure of an old woman, moving 
 about the hill, slightly bent, evidently age- 
 ing, but with a vital look about her; and 
 in her hawk-like features something serene, 
 softened, and gentle, which would inevitably 
 draw after her a second, wondering glance. 
 And just as inevitably, somewhere in her 
 vicinity, you will come upon a great beast
 
 310 John o' Partletts' 
 
 of a dog with earless head and scowling vis- 
 age and legs stiffening with rheumatism, 
 who, at sight of an intruder, pauses, glancing 
 him over with quick, fierce little eyes, over 
 which the dimness of age is beginning to 
 draw its shadow, and then, lowering his great 
 head, moves laboriously after her whom he 
 follows. 
 
 And did you but know it, as you turn, 
 watching him, you are looking after one who 
 has had his share, and no small one, in 
 making part of the history of this little cor- 
 ner of the world John o' Partletts M 
 
 Down in Partlettsville, should you wish to 
 gratify a nameless curiosity concerning this 
 strange pair and ask about the solitary 
 woman up on the hill, you would be struck 
 by the peculiar tone in which would be given 
 the immediate reply: 
 
 " That? that there is our old woman! " 
 
 " And the wild-looking beast? " 
 
 11 That's her dog, sir. You'll find not a 
 
 better nor a finer anywhere in the country. 
 
 Ah, you should have seen him in his day!
 
 Partletts' at Peace 311 
 
 Yes," with that same peculiar something in 
 the tone more marked than ever, " that's our 
 old woman and her dog! " 
 
 And then, walking on, without a doubt you 
 would come upon a tall man with clear, well- 
 chiselled features, erect, but with hair very 
 grey at the temples, and fine, dark eyes; 
 and by his side a youth with those same fine, 
 dark eyes, and by the way in which they walk 
 and talk together, and the man rests his 
 hand upon his companion's shoulder, it is to 
 be seen that they are constant, congenial 
 companions. 
 
 And yet beyond you will see the Rectory, 
 surrounded by blooming shrubs and bright 
 with flowers, and lingering near the gate a 
 girl with daffodil hair and very, very blue 
 eyes, who, should you be bold enough to 
 praise her garden, will nod, and reply : 
 
 " But have you seen the one on the hill? 
 Oh " unconsciously using the words that 
 another had used years before, " but that 
 is a garden! " And her young voice, how 
 extremely sweet! And what a look of sym-
 
 312 John o' Partletts' 
 
 pathy and gentleness passes over her sensi- 
 tive mouth and across her bright blue eyes 
 as she lifts her glance to the wood-topped 
 ridge that stands so splendidly gilded in the 
 full, flooding sunshine. 
 
 And so, as the yeare pass, Partletts' and 
 Partlettsville lie there, side by side, no longer 
 divided, but united in spirit. For human 
 courage, human feeling, human daring, have 
 reached down from the hill to the valley; 
 and human sympathy, human understanding, 
 human gratitude have reached up from the 
 valley to the hill-top. 
 
 And the old woman up there has entered 
 into a serenity which the great world has 
 never given her, could never give; but 
 which she has found at last in this little cor- 
 ner of the earth, in the gratitude and under- 
 standing of those about her. Perhaps only 
 through some obvious, dramatic occurrence, 
 such as came to her here, could her strange 
 nature have justified itself. 
 
 At any rate, she lives at peace with her- 
 self, at peace with those about her.
 
 Partletts' at Peace 313 
 
 And Partletts', in its quietness, its wild 
 beauty, raising its fresb crown of nature up 
 to heaven, has redeemed its promise of peace 
 to a striving spirit! 
 
 THE END.
 
 PO LLYANNA 
 
 Eleanor H. Porter 
 
 Author of " Mis* Billy," " Mi Billy's Decision," etc. 
 
 1 2 mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, net $1.25; postpaid $1.40 
 
 " ENTER Pollyanna! She is'the daintiest, dearest, most 
 irresistible maid you have met in all your journeyings through 
 Bookland. And you forget she is a story girl, for Pollyanna 
 is so real that after your first introduction you will feel the 
 inner circle of your friends has admitted a new member. A 
 brave, winsome, modern American girl, Pollyanna walks into 
 print to take her place in the hearts of all members of the 
 family." 
 
 Of " Miss Billy " the critics have written as follows: 
 
 " To say of any story that it makes the reader's heart feel warm and 
 happy is to pay it praise of sorts, undoubtedly. Well, that's the very praise 
 one gives ' Miss Billy.' " Edwin L. S human in the Chicago Record-Herald. 
 
 " The story is delightful and as for Billy herself she's all right! " 
 Philadelphia Press. 
 
 "There is a fine humor in the book, some good revelation of character 
 and plenty of romance of the most unusual order." The Philadelphia 
 Inquirer. 
 
 " There is something altogether fascinating about ' Miss Billy,' some 
 inexplicable feminine characteristic that seems to demand the individual 
 attention of the reader from the moment we open the book until we reluc- 
 tantly turn the last page." Boston Transcript. 
 
 " The book is a. wholesome story, as fresh in tone as it is graceful in ex- 
 pression, and one may predict for it a wide audience." Philadelphia Pub- 
 lic Ledger. 
 
 " Miss Billy is so carefree, so original and charming, that she lives in the
 
 THE GOLDEN ROAD 
 
 L. M. Montgomery 
 
 8332 
 
 Author of ' ' Anne of Green Cablet, " " Anne of Aoonlea, ' ' 
 
 " Chronicles of Aoonlea, " " The Story Girl, " 
 
 " Kilmeny of the Orchard, " etc. 
 
 1 2 mo, cloth decorative, with frontispiece in full color, from a 
 painting by George Gibbs. 5^et $1.25 ; postpaid $1.40 
 
 UNDER the guidance of Sara Stanley, that fascinating 
 "weaver of dream stories," the happy, fun-loving group 
 introduced by Miss Montgomery, travel down " the golden 
 road" to the parting of ways in this new story. Old 
 friendships are renewed with the simple folk of Prince 
 Edward Island, with its orchard-embowered homes and 
 fertile meadows and groves of spruce. The adventurings 
 of the King family, as chronicled in a daily newspaper, 
 which is aided and abetted by the heathen Peter, with its 
 headline features of the long-expected romance which enters 
 into the life of pretty Aunt Olivia, the return of a prodigal, 
 which strangely enough causes temporary anguish instead of 
 joy to^one childish heart, and what happens to the Awkward 
 Man, will give delight for many a day to all members of the 
 family, young and old. 
 
 Miss Montgomery again proves that she is a distinct aqui- 
 sition to American literature and entitled to a place of honor 
 as the writer of stories which "uplift the spirit and drive 
 the pessimist into bankruptcy."
 
 THE CAREER OF DR. WEAVER 
 
 !By Mrs. Henry W. Backus 
 
 I2mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, net $1.25; pottpaid $1.40 
 
 A BIG and purposeful story interwoven about the respon- 
 sibilities and problems in the medical profession of the pres- 
 ent day. Dr. Weaver, a noted specialist, and head of a private 
 hospital, had allowed himself to drift away from the stand- 
 ards of his youth in his desire for wealth and social and scien- 
 tific prestige. When an expose of the methods employed by 
 him in furthering his schemes for the glorifying of the name 
 of " Weaver " in the medical world is threatened, it is frus- 
 trated through the efforts of the famous doctor's younger 
 brother, Dr. Jim. The story is powerful and compelling, 
 even if it uncovers the problems and temptations of a physi- 
 cian's career. Perhaps the most important character, not 
 even excepting Dr. Weaver and Dr. Jim, is " The Girl," who 
 plays such an important part in the lives of both men. 
 
 "The ttory becomes one of thote absorbing tales of to-day which the 
 reader literally devours in an evening, unwilling to leave the book until the 
 last page is reached, and constantly alert, through the skill of the author, in 
 following the characters through the twisted ways of their career." Boston 
 Journal. 
 
 " The story is well-written, unique, quite out of the usual order, and is most 
 captivating " Christian Intelligenctr,
 
 THE BLOSSOM SHOP 
 
 A Story of the South 
 
 hla May J&ullin* 
 
 Cloth decorative, illustrated by John Cost. Net $1.00; 
 postpaid $1.15 
 
 ONE of those exquisitely simple and appealing stories of 
 mother love and sacrifice for a little blind daughter, written 
 in a delightful vein, combining humor and pathos. The 
 reader will love little blind Eugene (the child had received 
 the name of her dead father) and will rejoice with the brave 
 young mother, the heroine of the story, when the child's 
 sight is restored. There is a time for rejoicing, too, when 
 a lost will is found, bringing wealth and release from all 
 worries, and the young mother is free to accept the love and 
 protection that in her sorrow she denied herself. 
 
 Southern types are amusingly contrasted with those of the 
 North ; and the simple language and fine sentiment of the 
 story will charm readers of all ages.
 
 THE HARBOR MASTER 
 
 Hfc !By Theodore Goodridge Roberts Jp- 
 
 Author of " Comrades of the Trails," " Ray ton : A Backwoods 
 Mystery," etc. 
 
 1 2 mo, cloth decorative, with a frontispiece in full color by John 
 Gots. &Cet$t.25; postpaid $1.40 
 
 THE scene of the story is Newfoundland. The story deals 
 with the love of Black Dennis Nolan, a young giant and self- 
 appointed skipper of the little fishing hamlet of Chance Along, 
 for Flora Lockhart, a beautiful professional singer, who is 
 rescued by Dennis from a wreck on the treacherous coast of 
 Newfoundland, when on her way from England to the United 
 States. The story is a strong one all through, with a mystery 
 that grips, plenty of excitement and action, and the author 
 presents life in the open in all its strength and vigor. Mr. 
 Roberts is one of the younger writers whom the critics have 
 been watching with interest. In " The Harbor Master " he 
 has surely arrived. 
 
 9 
 
 Of Mr. Roberts' previous books the critics have written as fol- 
 lows: 
 
 " The action is always swift and romantic and the love is of the kind that 
 thrills the reader. The characters are admirably drawn and the reader fol- 
 lows with deep interest the adventures of the two young people." Balti- 
 more Sun. 
 
 " Mr. Roberts' pen has lost none of its cunning, while his style is easier 
 and breezier than ever." Buffalo Express. 
 
 " It is a romance of clean, warm-hearted devotion to friends and duty. 
 The characters are admirable each in.his own or her own way, and the author 
 has made each fit the case in excellent fashion." Salt Lake City Tribune. 
 
 " In this book Mr. Roberts has well maintained his reputation for the 
 vivid coloring of his descriptive pictures, which are full of stirring action, 
 and in which love and fighting hold chief place." Boston Times. 
 
 " Its ease of style, its rapidity, its interest from page to page, are admi- 
 rable; and it shows that inimitable power the story-teller's -gift of veri- 
 similitude. Its sureness and clearness are excellent, and its portraiture clear 
 and pleasing." The Reader.
 
 THE WHAT-SHALL-I-DO GIRL 
 
 Or, The Career of Joy Kent 
 
 Isabel Woodman Waiit 
 
 1 2 mo, cloth decorative, illustrated by Jessie Gilletpie. 
 Net$f. 25 ; postpaid $1.40 
 
 WHEN Joy Kent finds herself alone in the world, thrown 
 on her own resources, after the death of her father, she looks 
 about her, as do so many young girls, fresh from the public 
 schools, wondering how she can support herself and earn a 
 place in the great business world about her. Still wondering, 
 she sends a letter to a number of girls she had known in school 
 days, asking that each one tell her just how she had equipped 
 herself for a salary-earning career, and once equipped, how 
 she had found it possible to start on that career. In reply 
 come letters from the milliner, the stenographer, the librarian, 
 the salesgirl, the newspaper woman, the teacher, the nurse, 
 and from girls who had adopted all sorts of vocations as a 
 means of livelihood. Real riendly girl letters they are, too, 
 not of the type that preach, but of the kind which give sound 
 and helpful advice in a bright and interesting manner. Of 
 course there is a splendid young man who also gives advice. 
 Any " What-shall-I-do " young girl can read of the careers 
 suggested for Joy Kent with profit and pleasure, and, perhaps, 
 with surprise!
 
 Selections from 
 L. C. Page and Company's 
 List of Fiction 
 
 WORKS OF 
 
 ROBERT NEILSON STEPHENS 
 
 Each one vol., library I2mo, doth decorative . . $1.50 
 
 THE FLIGHT OF GEORGIANA 
 
 A ROMANCE OP THE DAYS OP THE YOUNG PRETENDER, Illus- 
 trated by H. C. Edwards. 
 
 " A love-story in the highest degree, a dashing story, and a re- 
 markably well finished piece of work." Chicago Record-Herald. 
 
 THE BRIGHT FACE OF DANGER 
 
 Being an account of some adventures of Henri de Launay, son 
 of the Sieur de la Tournoire. Illustrated by H. C. Edwards. 
 " Mr. Stephens has fairly outdone himself. We thank him 
 
 heartily. The story is nothing if not spirited and entertaining, 
 
 rational and convincing." Boston Transcript. 
 
 THE MYSTERY OF MURRAY DAVENPORT 
 
 (40th thousand.) 
 
 " This is easily the best thing that Mr. Stephens has yet done. 
 Those familiar with his other novels can best judge the measure 
 of this praise, which is generous." Buffalo Neiua. 
 
 CAPTAIN RAVENSHAW 
 
 OR, THE MAID OF CHEAPSIDE. (52d thousand.? A romance 
 of Elizabethan London. Illustrations by Howard Pyle and 
 other artists. 
 
 Not since the absorbing adventures of D'Artaguan have we had 
 anything so good in the blended vein of romance and comedy. 
 
 THE CONTINENTAL DRAGOON 
 
 A ROMANCE OP PHILIPSE MANOR HOUSE IN 1778. (53d 
 thousand.) Illustrated by H. C. Edwards 
 A stirring romance of the Revolution, with its scenes laid on 
 oeutral territory.
 
 L. C. PAGE 6- COMPANY'S 
 
 PHILIP WINWOOD 
 
 (70th thousand.) A Sketch of the Domestic History of an 
 American Captain in the War of Independence, embracing 
 events that occurred between and during the years 1763 and 
 1785 in New York and London. Illustrated by E. W. D. 
 Hamilton. 
 
 AN ENEMY TO THE KING 
 
 (70th thousand.) Illustrated by H. De M. Young. 
 
 An historical romance of the sixteenth century, describing the 
 adventures of a young French nobleman at the court of Henry 
 III., and on the field with Henry IV. 
 
 THE ROAD TO PARIS 
 
 A STORY OP ADVENTURE. (35th thousand.) Illustrated by 
 H. C. Edwards. 
 
 An historical romance of the eighteenth century, being an 
 account of the life of an American gentleman adventurer. 
 
 A GENTLEMAN PLAYER 
 
 His ADVENTURES ON A SECRET MISSION FOR QUEEN ELIZA- 
 T BETH. (48th thousand.) Illustrated by Frank T. Merrill. 
 The story of a young gentleman who joins Shakespeare's 
 company of players, and becomes a protege of the great poet. 
 
 CLEMENTINA'S HIGHWAYMAN 
 
 Illustrated by A. Everhart. 
 
 The story is laid in the mid-Georgian period. It is a dashing, 
 sparkling, vivacious comedy. 
 
 TALES FROM BOHEMIA 
 
 Illustrated by Wallace Goldsmith. 
 
 These bright and clever tales deal with people of the theatre and 
 odd characters in other walks of life which fringe on Bohemia. 
 
 A SOLDIER OF VALLEY FORGE 
 
 By ROBERT NEILSON STEPHENS AND THEODORE GOODRIDQE 
 ROBERTS. 
 
 With frontispiece by Frank T. Merrill. 
 
 " The plot shows invention and is developed with originality, 
 and there is incident in abundance." Brooklyn Times. 
 
 THE SWORD OF BUSSY 
 
 By ROBERT NEILSON STEPHENS AND HERMAN NICKERSON. 
 
 With frontispiece by Edmund H. Garrett. 
 
 Net, $1.25; postpaid, $1.40 
 
 " The plot is lively, dashing and fascinating, the very kind 
 of a story that one does not want to stop reading until it is 
 finished." Boston Herald.
 
 LIST OF FICTION 
 
 WORKS OF 
 
 ELEANOR H. PORTER 
 
 MISS BILLY 
 
 Cloth decorative, with frontispiece in full color from a painting 
 
 by Griswold Tyng . $1.50 
 
 " There is a fine humor in the book, some good revelation 
 
 of character and plenty of romance of an unusual order." 
 
 The Philadelphia Inquirer. 
 
 "It is a tale with many amusing situations and a pretty 
 
 romance which endears Billy to the heart of the reader." 
 
 Marine Journal. 
 
 MISS BILLY'S DECISION 
 
 (A SEQUEL TO " Miss BILLY.") 
 
 Cloth decorative, with frontispiece in full color from a paint- 
 ing by Henry W. Moore . . Net, $1.25; postpaid, $1.40 
 " A sequel to the delightful ' Miss Billy,' and a sequel happily 
 to be sought," says the New York World. " Thoroughly read- 
 able and as clean and sweet as a day in June." 
 
 WORKS OF 
 
 CHARLES FELTON PIDGIN 
 
 THE CHRONICLES OF QUINCY ADAMS SAWYER, 
 DETECTIVE 
 
 Cloth decorative, illustrated by Harold J. Cue. 
 
 Net, $1.25; postpaid, $1.40 
 
 ' The author is to be complimented not only upon the clev- 
 erness of his plots, but upon the skill with which he constructs 
 and clears away mysteries, and the power he possesses to attract 
 interest and maintain it unflaggingly to the end." Boston 
 Globe. 
 
 THE FURTHER ADVENTURES OF QUINCY 
 ADAMS SAWYER AND MASON'S CORNER 
 FOLKS 
 
 Cloth decorative, illustrated by Henry Roth ' . . $1.50 
 " The book is intensely human, bright, witty, hopeful, kindly, 
 and interesting." Christian Endeavor World. 
 
 STEPHEN HOLTON 
 
 Cloth decorative, illustrated by Frank T. Merrill . $1.50 
 " New England's common life seems a favorite material for 
 
 this sterling author, who, in this particular instance, mixes his 
 
 colors with masterly skill." Boston Globe.
 
 L. C. PAGE <&- COMPANY'S 
 
 WORKS OF 
 
 L M. MONTGOMERY 
 
 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES 
 
 Illustrated by M. A. and W. A. J. Claus. 12mo . $1.50 
 " Anne of Green Gables " is beyond question the most popu- 
 lar girl heroine in recent years. Poets, statesmen, humorists, 
 critics, and the great public have lost their hearts to the charm- 
 ing Anne. 
 
 " In ' Anne of Green Gables ' you will find the dearest and 
 most moving and delightful child since the immortal Alice." 
 Mark Twain in a letter to Francis Wilson. 
 
 ANNE OF AVONLEA 
 
 Illustrated by George Gibbs. 12mo . . . . $1.50 
 
 In this volume Anne is as fascinating as ever, and the author 
 has introduced several new characters. 
 
 " Here we have a book as human as ' David Harum,' a hero- 
 ine who outcharms a dozen princesses of fiction, and reminds 
 you of some sweet girl you know, or knew back in the days 
 when the world was young." San Francisco Bulletin. 
 
 " A book to lift the spirit and send the pessimist into bank- 
 ruptcy! " Meredith Nicholson. 
 
 CHRONICLES OF AVONLEA 
 
 Illustrated by George Gibbs. 12mo. Net, $1.25; postpaid, $1.40 
 " The author shows a wonderful knowledge of humanity, 
 great insight and warm-heartedness in the manner in which 
 some of the scenes are treated, and the sympathetic way the 
 gentle peculiarities of the characters are brought out." 
 Baltimore Sun. 
 
 THE STORY GIRL 
 
 Illustrated by George. Gibbs. 12mo .... $1.50 
 " A book that holds one's interest and keeps a kindly smile 
 upon one's lips and in one's heart as well." Chicago Inter- 
 Ocean. 
 
 " The book is full of sprightly humor, the quaint conceits 
 and the genuine understanding of youth, which mark so ex- 
 cellently the various chronicles of ANNE." New York World. 
 
 KILMENY OF THE ORCHARD 
 
 Illustrated by George Gibbs. 12mo I . . . . $1.50 
 " A story born in the heart of Arcadia and brimful of the 
 
 sweet and simple life of the primitive environment." Boston 
 
 Herald.
 
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