THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 X
 
 I D RATHER YOU DIDN T FEEL SORRY FOR ME 
 ANY LONGER "
 
 His OWN HOME 
 
 - 
 
 TOWN 
 
 BY 
 
 LARRY, EVANS 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 " ONCE TO EVERY MAN,** 
 THEN I LL COME BACK TO You,** ETC. 
 
 ILLUSTRATED BY 
 HARVEY DUNN 
 
 New York 
 THE H. K. FLY COMPANY 
 
 ^^r 
 
 Publishers
 
 Copyright, 1917, by 
 THE H. K FLY COMPANY 
 
 Copyright, 1916, by 
 THE METROPOLITAN MAGAZINE COMPANY 
 
 Copyright, 1917, by 
 THE METROPOLITAN MAGAZINE COMPANY
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 I As the Curtain Rises . . 9 
 
 II Enter the Black Sheep .... 27 
 
 III Speaking of Dogs ..... 44 
 
 IV The Girl Called Melody ... 54 
 V Come Ye Who Are Weary . . 65 
 
 VI A Creature of the Burlesque . . 74 
 
 VII "No Matter What You Do" . . 92 
 
 VIII A Formidable Personage . . . 109 
 
 IX The Season s Smartest Function . 126 
 
 X According to the Code . . . . 150 
 
 XI Warchester s Own Daughter . . 157 
 
 XII Melody .. . ..... 174 
 
 XIII Tivotson ....... 193 
 
 XIV The "Courier" Prints an Extra . 212 
 XV An Unprovoked and Shameful As 
 
 sault ....... 232 
 
 XVI A Series of Conferences . . . 243 
 
 XVII The Great Carl Hardy ... 261 
 
 XVIII Small Town Stuff ...... 267 
 
 XIX Just Jimmy Gordon . . . . 283 
 
 XX The Humble Exalted .... 293 
 
 XXI Rank Melodrama ..... 304 
 
 XXII Indian Summer . . . ,. ; * . 313 
 
 1562963
 
 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 AS THE CURTAIN RISES 
 
 RAIN had fallen during the early afternoon, 
 a wind-driven torrent, quite as much to be 
 expected in that section, at that time of the 
 year, as was the midday height of the mercury 
 entirely seasonable. More than a few times the sun 
 had broken through, only to be hidden immediately 
 by the scudding clouds, which, dissolving, drove 
 down in warm sheets, to splinter against the pave 
 ment like long and lancelike shafts of glass. And 
 so, an hour after the storm had blown over as 
 suddenly as it had come, there were still wet patches 
 upon the cobblestones of the station square, even 
 though the gutters had run off the last of the fouled 
 and muddy water. Under the ardent August sun 
 Front Street, to its juncture with Main five blocks 
 north, lay sleek and shimmering, alike a mute 
 reproach to the municipal department whose duty it 
 was to maintain it in some such state of undefiled 
 dignity on week days and a substantiation of "a few 
 remarks" which T. E. Banks T. Elihu had risen
 
 io HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 to voice at the last banquet of the Business Men s 
 Association of Warchester, barely the night before. 
 In spite of the nondescript character of some of the 
 buildings which hemmed it, the broad, unbroken 
 thoroughfare, deserted and Sabbath quiet, presented 
 an aspect bordering upon the stately. 
 
 Perhaps to those listeners so unlucky as to be 
 natives of a less blessed community a special table 
 marked Guests of Warchester had been set aside for 
 them many of T. Elihu Banks statements might 
 have savored of eulogy on that festal occasion. To 
 scoff is human, and community patriotism, when it is 
 based upon strictly hard and fast business logic, is 
 not the most difficult thing in the world to under 
 stand. But there had been well-timed irony to offset 
 the extravagance and rob it of all save figurative 
 excellence ; jocularity so seeming intimate that more 
 than one harassed merchant, Hobbs, for instance, of 
 the Hardware, or Wilburt, Drugs and Toilet 
 Sundries, who had come hoping to hear a discussion 
 of better ways and means of avoiding total insol 
 vency, had gone away with a warm feeling instead, 
 located somewhere in the general area beneath the 
 top coat-pocket on the left-hand side. This emotion 
 might best be described as a consciousness of tender, 
 time-hallowed confidences common only to T. Elihu, 
 the town s great man, and each individual who 
 cherished it. So much for the abstract magic of the 
 great man s oratory; concrete example of his
 
 AS THE CURTAIN RISES n 
 
 masterly phraseology, in the guise of quoted words 
 themselves, is available. 
 
 "I have sat here to-night," Thus T. Elihu Banks, 
 coming with majestic deliberation to his feet, 
 opened his few remarks "I have sat here and 
 listened with conflicting emotions to all that our 
 revered and eminently solid townsmen have had to 
 say in regard to Warchester; its welfare, growth, 
 prosperity past, present and future." 
 
 Here he paused to frown upon several of those 
 identical eminently solid ones, who, more or less 
 disturbed by the monthly cash balance, had quite 
 inadvertently allowed personal uncertainty to tinge 
 their utterances anent Warchester, Five Years Ago, 
 To-day and Five Years in the Future. To be sure 
 the frown was playfully fierce and only mock 
 ferocious. It did not betray, either in line of lip or 
 brow, a probability that the Commonwealth Trust 
 T. Elihu Banks, President might at no distant 
 date deliberate long over a further extension of 
 paper bearing the indorsement of those very 
 alarmists, who, instead of quailing before its wrath, 
 only straightened in their places at such honorable 
 mention. 
 
 " I have sat here to-night," to proceed with the 
 remarks, "and, gentlemen, I want to tell you that I 
 am scared! Yes, sir, plumb frightened and dismayed 
 at the imminence of calamity which I am convinced >. 
 that is to say, a/most convinced threatens us, our
 
 12 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 private integrity and continued public existence. 
 Why, if if it wasn t for the fact that the family sort 
 of likes it here, I d order my foreman out at the 
 plant to quit work on that new weaveshed of mine; 
 I d lock up the doors of the Commonwealth; tell 
 Latham, at that table over there in the corner, that 
 he could have my share in the Construction and 
 Contracting Company for any spare change he 
 happened to have in his pocket, and get away from 
 this feeble, tottering old invalid of a town before it 
 goes all to smash!" 
 
 "Silence followed," quoting now from the col 
 umns of the Sunday issue of the Daily Gazette which 
 had come, damp and smelling of ink, fresh from the 
 presses only a few hours after the banquet s breaking 
 up "silence heavy and a little perturbed. Then 
 laughter pattered around the room, increasing in 
 volume until it shook the rafters as the meaning of 
 Mr. T. Elihu Banks pungent preface struck home. 
 And when the thunder of mirth and applause had 
 subsided somewhat, radiating the spirit of optimism 
 and indomitable energy which has been so instru 
 mental in making Warchester what she is to-day, 
 our esteemed fellow-townsman swung from the 
 ironical vein of his introduction to a serious and 
 comprehensive analysis of commercial Warchester 
 . . . touching upon the changes, topographic and 
 architectural which the last five years have witnessed, 
 more than a few of which, it should be noted in
 
 AS THE CURTAIN RISES 13 
 
 passing, stand as a monument to his personal love of 
 the beautiful and finer things of life . . . and 
 closing with a prophetic picture of what cooperation 
 and honest endeavor may well be expected to bring, 
 so vividly presented that quite a number of our 
 estimable citizens besides Mr. Banks have decided 
 not to go just yet, but to wait a while and see if 
 things won t take a turn for the better." 
 
 This extract, a faithful example of the Gazette s 
 trenchant style, was but a brief bit of the speech 
 itself. Reported verbatim, with a cut of T. Elihu, 
 it filled four columns. For if he was a little chary 
 with vital statistics, such as might have comforted 
 many, he did not slight what the Gazette happily 
 chose to term the topographic and architectural 
 changes. Swinging from the subject of the Trac 
 tion Company s new extension, which inevitably 
 must result in a tide of profit from those rural 
 regions hitherto untapped, to that of the new Main 
 Street pavement, laid by the Construction and 
 Contracting Company, he came by easy stages to a 
 mention of the new home of the Commonwealth 
 Trust. And here he was upon ground safe from 
 foreign criticism, carping or covetous. 
 
 When T. Elihu Banks could not himself do a 
 thing he paid the price of the man who he believed 
 could do it for him. Fielding, an architect lately 
 come to Warchester, had dreamed his plans unhan- 
 dicapped by suggestion or ill-advised economy. And
 
 i 4 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 the finished structure, of blue-veined marble, was 
 vindication enough of the wisdom of such methods. 
 Facing down Front Street, the building drew the 
 eye from the chiseled atrocities of red sandstone 
 which flanked it, like a fresh blank picket in a 
 rotted, madly scroll-sawed fence. It dominated that 
 thoroughfare to the very doors of the Union 
 Station, quite overshadowing the martial group in 
 the centre of the Common, a memorial to the valor 
 of native sons in the days of 61. 
 
 True enough, this work of art, the product of the 
 Home Granite Yards and T. Elihu Banks gift to 
 the city, was not a recent improvement, if it was to 
 be accepted as an improvement at all. For a number 
 of years the twice-life-size cannoneer, gun swab in 
 hand, had been gazing defiance at all comers, friend 
 and foe alike, who chanced to alight from any of 
 the amazing number of trains which the principal 
 speaker of the evening stated rolled past their 
 threshold between the meridians, post and ante, 
 but he was no fickle-minded fanatic, faithless to old 
 gods and fawning upon the new. The statue was 
 considered a very fine thing. 
 
 "This our monument to the dead and maimed and 
 missing, mellowing now with the years (mellowing 
 applying to the statue, of course). . . The resistless 
 tramp of time which has decimated the ranks of 
 those who survived. . . . The onsweep of events 
 which brooks neither faint heart nor faltering hand!"
 
 AS THE CURTAIN RISES 15 
 
 It was neatly turned, the transition from romantic 
 clash of arms to the more prosaic but no less terribly 
 real strife of daily business life. Serving as a 
 conclusion it sounded that note of pathos, of deep 
 and human compassion, which sent more than a few 
 home with that warm feeling aforementioned 
 beneath the top coat-pocket on the left-hand side. 
 As they turned down Main Street, linked arm in 
 arm, Hobbs of the Hardware expressed for the 
 ears of Wilburt, Drugs and Toilet Sundries, fervidly 
 albeit with less elegance than might have been 
 employed, the opinion of all who had been among 
 those present. 
 
 "A damned big-hearted man," said Hobbs. He 
 had forgotten, temporarily, his low cash balance. 
 "A damned big-hearted man. Where would you 
 look to find another who has accomplished all that 
 he has and still stayed tender-hearted?" 
 
 Wilburt s answer was in tune. "You d look a 
 long time, and then most likely fail." 
 
 And yet, the next morning, after the shower had 
 subsided and the sun come out again, even to one 
 who had not come under the spell of those rounded 
 periods; to put it precisely, in the eyes of the lone 
 commercial traveler upon the Bay State Hotel 
 veranda, the typical, "overgrown town," New 
 England city was far from ugly, far from unpre 
 possessing. 
 
 He had been forced to forego his jump to
 
 1 6 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 Providence because he dared not leave town without 
 seeing Latham J. J. Latham personally, so one 
 would reasonably have expected him to find nothing 
 of excellence on the scene of his broken schedule. 
 To the contrary, the sporting-page and the funny 
 sheet of the Sunday Gazette perused in all serious 
 ness of soul, and the Banks address by way of 
 amusement, this stranded alien, chair and stiff 
 straw-hat tilted back at a dangerous angle, brown 
 button shoes upon the rail, let the paper slide to the 
 floor while he sighed his unqualified content. 
 
 He squinted from eyes very wise in such a round, 
 cherubic countenance in the direction of the Com 
 mon, pricked here and there with beds of poppies, 
 all as surprisingly brilliant after the rain as a 
 red-figured green carpet in the wake of a vacuum 
 cleaner. The gunner and his mate who stood 
 stanchly by, round shot in hand, would not be 
 overlooked. Feeling the need of oral communion 
 common to his kind the "drummer" addressed his 
 words to this intrepid pair. 
 
 "Don t fire, boys," he admonished with indolent 
 amiability, "till you see the whites of their eyes." 
 A moment of thought. "And if you don t mind my 
 asking, maybe you can tell me what s wrong with 
 this town? Quiet and bucolic and restful would have 
 been my verdict if it wasn t for all these alibis they 
 registered here last night." 
 
 Head on one side he waited as if for a reply, but
 
 AS THE CURTAIN RISES 17 
 
 the gunner and his mate failed to unbend from their 
 attitudes of hostile aloofness. A bluebottle fly 
 buzzed with foolish persistence against a screen; 
 flat upon his back on a baggage truck across the 
 square a newsboy now and again opened his lips to 
 drone "Pyper! Globe Transcrip G zette/" but 
 the iteration was wholly mechanical, the disturbance 
 negligible in the extreme. A peaceful, Sabbath 
 quietude endured until a pair of high-checked gray 
 horses, harnessed to a bulbous, plum upholstered 
 barouche, rounded the Main Street corner and came 
 swinging down Front, the clatter of their feet upon 
 the pavement a marvellous imitation of those hoof- 
 beats which trap drummers were wont to beat out 
 upon their shells, for the added vividness it lent to 
 motion-picture steeds. 
 
 Immediately the commercial traveler abandoned 
 fruitless oral curiosity for ocular contemplation. 
 (Even at a distance the turn-out was impressive.) 
 Back in the hotel interior a gong clanged brassily 
 the first summons to dinner, for the Bay State clung 
 to old custom but he failed to respond. Quite 
 otherwise he allowed his chair to cant slowly again 
 upon all four legs. And Mr. Dodge, the hotel 
 manager, chancing to glimpse this new attitude of 
 interest, came out from behind his desk and started 
 for the door. 
 
 "What is it, a fire?" he called through the open 
 window, truculence in his voice and his manner too,
 
 i8 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 for in his experience guests of the brown clad one s 
 ilk needed no second call, and he distrusted departure 
 from precedent. "Can you see the smoke?" 
 
 He reached the open door just as the approaching 
 equipage was entering the zone of its awe-compelling 
 best. The truculence disappeared. 
 
 "Oh ho I" He understood now yes, indeed! 
 to be sure ! His exclamation was commendatory, a 
 verbal pat upon the back of the man discerning 
 enough to forego food for such a sight. "Oh ho! 
 T. Elihu, eh? Now I wonder where he s bound? 
 I hadn t heard that he was running out of town this 
 week." 
 
 The commercial traveler leaned forward at that, 
 his face less cherubic. In such wise he was accus 
 tomed to meet an argument of cheaper goods from 
 a competitor, but neither of the frock-coated, shiny- 
 tiled pair upon the rear seat of the barouche 
 appeared aware of his keen gaze, or the worshipful 
 one of Mr. Dodge, whose lips were slightly parted. 
 
 T. Elihu Banks, tremendous without being fat, 
 ponderous for all his great height, sat well forward 
 on the plum-colored cushion, stiffly erect and frigidly 
 preoccupied. He fairly overwhelmed the one who 
 shared his state and made him seem wisplike and 
 tiny. His stare dwelt, with a frown near to lowering, 
 upon a point midway between the horizon and the 
 sun, now almost overhead. Yet he caught the first 
 tentative move which Mr. Dodge upon the veranda
 
 AS THE CURTAIN RISES 19 
 
 made toward salutation. A huge and pink and 
 smooth-shaven face was turned in that direction; 
 there was a glimpse of chilly eyes and padded flesh 
 and lips sneering even in repose, while this new 
 position was held for a breath. T. Elihu Banks 
 thereupon inclined his head, a scant but perceptible 
 inch not necessarily a large effort, though the effect 
 was rather wonderful so far as Mr. Dodge was 
 concerned. Shedding his uncertainty the latter took 
 an impetuous step or two forward; he made as if 
 to reach for his hat, remembered its absence and fell 
 back upon salute instead. 
 
 "Ha ha! Good morning good morning, sir! 
 Hope you aren t carrying out your threat and leaving 
 us for good I" 
 
 There was nothing servile, nothing of calculated 
 flattery in the well-timed pleasantry. It was merely 
 an expression of respect and admiration by one who 
 knew real worth when he looked upon it. That the 
 town s great man failed to respond in kind appar 
 ently discomfited Mr. Dodge not at all. T. Elihu 
 rarely responded to such sallies, he had sufficient to 
 occupy his mind, without the framing of airy 
 persiflage. And for an alternate excuse, had one 
 been required, there was the arrival of the 4.30 
 express from New York. Roaring into the station 
 at the exact moment when the barouche circled up to 
 the platform, it drowned out the now hopeful cry 
 of the newsboy who had hopped down from the
 
 20 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 baggage truck and trotted nearer, the laughter of 
 Mr. Dodge, as mechanical and almost as mirthful 
 as the clucking of an aimless hen, and all other 
 indeterminate sounds. When the train had come to 
 a standstill and the din subsided to a thin hiss of 
 escaping steam, Mr. Dodge was heard to be laughing 
 still and talking as well. 
 
 "Ha ha! He s a great joker T. Elihu. D yuh 
 read the address he made at the banquet last night 
 to the Business Men s Association? If you haven t 
 y d better, for it s mighty interestin readin . Funny 
 in spots, too y d ought to have heard em laugh. 
 Said he was humbly proud to be identified with the 
 name of Warchester and I guess he hasn t got 
 reason to be! He is Warchester. He s made this 
 town what she is. Humbly proud ! I d like to have 
 the wad he s got together for himself while he s been 
 doing it." 
 
 "Humbly proud?" The commercial one meant 
 no sacrilege; he felt that the pause required some 
 answer. "He doesn t exactly hate himself, that s a 
 fact. Why don t he do his running around in an 
 automobile?" 
 
 "Can t afford one!" Vast chuckles on the part 
 of Mr. Dodge, who ignored a note of possible 
 disparagement, betrayed the source of this prepos 
 terous statement. "He can t afford one, T. Elihu 
 can t! The wife has one, and her own chauffeur. 
 And his boy drives a low white one with tub seats
 
 AS THE CURTAIN RISES 21 
 
 and no fenders that goes like hell-a-bilin\ Most 
 always has a mighty good-looking girl with him 
 J. J. Latham s daughter. But T. Elihu s so hard up 
 he says he has to stick to the poor old nags I" 
 
 The "drummer" nodded. He renewed his con 
 sideration of the high-checked team, the stiff-necked 
 coachman in buff and blue, the plum upholstery and 
 nickel fittings, from a somewhat different mental 
 angle. Here was undeniable grandeur, neither 
 garish nor blatant, but "old-fashioned" if anything, 
 and unquestionably "solid." He nodded again, 
 appearing to have found a satisfactory reason for 
 such out-of-date whimsy. 
 
 "A wise play, T. Elihu," he murmured. "I ve got 
 to hand it to you there." And in a louder voice for 
 his host s ear : "Who s the rabbitty looking little cus 
 with him?" 
 
 Mr. Dodge had no time to administer rebuke or 
 even to smile pityingly upon one whose lack of culture 
 and discernment permitted him so to characterize 
 the Reverend Watson Duncan. For the big man s 
 failure to clamber out of the barouche was indication 
 that T. Elihu was not leaving town on a short 
 business trip. He was expecting someone on that 
 train. Already a scattering of day-coach passengers 
 less than the usual quota, for Sunday traffic was 
 light had bustled into sight, heading toward Main 
 Street and home, hurrying from force of habit.
 
 22 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 A moment or two passed without further develop 
 ments. The raucous shouts of the engine crew could 
 be heard from far up the yard where the engine was 
 taking water. Mr. Dodge was on the point of 
 sympathizing aloud with T. Elihu s disappointment, 
 when his intensity of attention was rewarded. The 
 figure which finally breezed around the station 
 corner, preceded by a Pullman porter whose 
 gleaming grin and officious solicitude bespoke a 
 liberal tip, was worth waiting to see. 
 
 Vision as applied to things sartorial smacks dis 
 tinctly of the feminine, and though there was nothing 
 in the appearance of this young man in his earliest 
 twenties to warrant such meaning being read into 
 the word as applied to him, vision best describes him. 
 The top-coat of creamy tan which he wore draped 
 over his shoulders in careless ease, in spite of the 
 heat, was of incredible breadth of skirt; a virtue 
 under the circumstances, for far from veiling, it fell 
 back with every stride and puff of wind, so that 
 nothing was lost of the gorgeousness beneath -a 
 gorgeousness contributed largely by a suit of black 
 and white check, ultra modish and wondrous tight. 
 
 Long checkered lapels ran down to a single button 
 a little below the waist line, which the coat clearly 
 defined. The trousers, so narrow that almost all the 
 fulness had been requisitioned by two knife-edge 
 creases, ended a fair two inches above the low tan 
 shoes, in cuffs of the same width. And below the
 
 AS THE CURTAIN RISES 23 
 
 cuffs and above the lapels mauve hose and scarf 
 added a further dash of color. No one needed to 
 be told that the Panama and shoes were expensive. 
 They looked it. 
 
 To complete the picture, he was swinging a thick, 
 light-colored stick in one hand as he dashed into 
 view, and leading with the other a white bull-terrier; 
 or to be more exact, doing his best to restrain that 
 high-bred animal which, straining every splendid 
 muscle, fairly towed him in his wake. 
 
 "T. Elihu s son, Sidney," the manager of the Bay 
 State flung information to his guest. "Sidney 
 Estabrook Banks. T. Elihu married Sadie Esta- 
 brook Estabrook steel and wire works " 
 
 The explanation, however, was superfluous. Any 
 stranger would have marked at first glance the 
 likeness between father and son. There was the 
 same chill light in the eyes, the same full and slightly 
 sneering lips. The younger man s face was not yet 
 florid but only pinkish a shade not unlike the pink 
 of the terrier s nose and ears. Abounding vitality, 
 quite as exuberant as the dog s, could not overcome 
 a suggestion of heavy-footed weight and padded 
 flesh. It was this very exuberance, on the dog s part, 
 which precipitated the only minor catastrophe that 
 marred the occasion. 
 
 T. Elihu and the Reverend Duncan were out upon 
 the platform now. The newsboy, silenced by such
 
 24 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 opulence, was drawing nearer, mouth wide but 
 hushed. Mr. Dodge foresaw the inevitable just 
 before it happened. 
 
 "Git out of the way, there," he whispered franti 
 cally, waving his arms in an unmistakable "shooing" 
 gesture. "Look out look out " 
 
 T. Elihu, attempting to avoid the dog s lusty 
 lunges at the same instant when the newsboy, hoping 
 to get in a surreptitious pat, had edged a little too 
 close, suddenly set one square heel upon a bare foot. 
 The boy howled his anguish to the skies. 
 
 At the outcry an expression frankly annoyed and 
 intolerant of such clumsy interruption passed over 
 the Reverend Duncan s countenance. Mr. Dodge s 
 face became darkly suffused. 
 
 "There, I knew it!" he growled. "Why don t 
 that fool boy get out from under foot!" 
 
 But the question was already bootless. The boy 
 had done so, limpingly, falling back aghast before 
 the rage of the huge one who, in a bull-voice, 
 commanded that he efface himself. Then, ignoring 
 the outstretched hand, T. Elihu seized his son by the 
 shoulders. It was a bearlike embrace, spontaneous, 
 shamelessly hearty and sentimental. The reverend 
 gentleman s approval returned; his expression waxed 
 benign. Even the porter, a child of the theatrical, 
 played up to the best that was in him. His air of 
 importance was increased by half. 
 
 The trio turned at length to the barouche. Sidney
 
 AS THE CURTAIN RISES 25, 
 
 seated himself back to the driver, beside a pile of 
 luggage liberally besprinkled with labels and a 
 golf-bag and canvas-covered tennis-racket. Now the 
 porter was lifting his cap ; the coachman flirted his 
 whip and the grays started prancingly. The Rev 
 erend Watson Duncan was shaking hands with 
 Sidney as they came around in a splendid circle. One 
 of T. Elihu s remarkably soft and smooth hands lay 
 upon his son s knee. It was an affecting sight. The 
 drummer could not forego a small sigh and over 
 hearing it, Mr. Dodge tore his eyes away to smile 
 patronizingly upon him. Mine host had no way of 
 knowing that the black-and-white checked suit was 
 behind this breath of envy, and not a belated 
 realization of inherent inferiority. 
 
 "I tell you it does a man good to see a thing like 
 that once in a while," said Mr. Dodge. "Yes, sir, 
 it certainly does. It it s a sermon in itself, just as 
 much as any the Reverend Duncan preaches and 
 he s some preacher, I m here to state. I remember, 
 now. Somebody did tell me that T. Elihu s son was 
 studyin too hard, and the old man d sent for him 
 to come home and rest a while. He s been away to 
 school in New York summer school. And don t 
 T. Elihu think a lot of that boy? Did yuh see him 
 grab him ? A big-hearted man a mighty big-hearted 
 man! Where would you look to find one who has 
 accomplished all that he has, and still stayed tender 
 hearted?"
 
 26 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 The drummer apparently gave it up without a 
 guess, for he made no immediate reply. A change, 
 slight but significant, had come over this commercial 
 one. He seemed to have grown very pensive. 
 
 "Why all the alibi?" was his sole comment, and 
 as this was entirely mental it had no effect upon Mr. 
 Dodge. 
 
 The barouche had turned to the right into Main 
 Street, five blocks north; hopping on one foot the 
 newsboy had reached the baggage-truck and was 
 whimpering softly over his bruised toes, before the 
 "drummer" spoke aloud. He jerked his thumb 
 toward another figure in the shadow of the station 
 corner which had come up in time to witness the last 
 act of Sidney s reception the Reverend Duncan s 
 warm handclasp. 
 
 "Who s your other friend?" he asked. 
 
 Mr. Dodge halted. He had been about to return 
 indoors. Now, as his gaze followed the drummer s 
 pointing thumb his face hardened. Hatred no less 
 bitter for all that it was impersonal, marred the 
 softness of feature which the "sermon" had engen 
 dered. Oddly enough as he watched this expression 
 grow, the "drummer" seemed to smile.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 ENTER THE BLACK SHEEP 
 
 WARCHESTER S dingy station-shed, unim- 
 peachably the city gate in spite of the fact 
 that it was never mentioned publicly unless 
 such mention was unavoidable, and then without 
 pride, roared to the passage of many trains. Fast- 
 flying mails and expresses, boastful of every luxury 
 and time-saving adjunct, which a feverish age could 
 demand; slow-crawling locals, mean and lowly and 
 seeming conscious of it they came and went almost 
 without cessation, achieving daily an astonishing 
 total, bringing and bearing away every known man 
 ner of man. 
 
 Prominent politicians were wont to shake hands 
 with a delegation of representative citizens from 
 the observation platforms of their specials, or if 
 the election was very close at hand, to linger long 
 enough to extol the town s points of superiority, as 
 well as those of their own doctrines. Few road 
 companies, dramatic or musical, passed without a 
 split week at least at the Palace Theater (the house 
 could be calculated beforehand to a dollar if the 
 attraction had stirred up a metropolitan discussion 
 
 27
 
 28 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 as to its exact moral status). And now and again 
 the city police surprised evidence that certain quiet- 
 spoken gentlemen, finding other fields uncongenial, 
 had paused to test the excellence of Warchester 
 time-locks. 
 
 There came men of every creed, women of every 
 code; the self-assured and self-seeking; the humble 
 and the hungry; spellbinder and highbinder; bright- 
 eyed light o love and dull-eyed alien ; those who spun 
 their webs and waited; those who toiled and would 
 continue to toil ; the affluent who viewed the eye of 
 the needle through the glass of their own magnified 
 ego, the wretched who wondered why; exhorters 
 beseeching alms for a distant cause, blandly blind to 
 neighborhood need: rich men and poor men and 
 beggar men, and women in velvet gowns. 
 
 Every type that a polyglot civilization could 
 produce drained daily through that dingy station- 
 shed, for Warchester, located upon a trunk-line 
 which connected the two greatest cities on the eastern 
 seaboard, was like an eddy in a stream which never 
 ceased to ebb and flow. Some bits of human flotsam 
 found final lodgment in this backwash; more merely 
 dallied for a time, to be caught up and spun on again 
 by the current, and only one custom seemed common 
 to them all. Each wore his stamp of caste or 
 character upon his sleeve, if not a true one then that 
 which was most likely to prove expeditious and 
 remunerative in the end. Casual classification was
 
 ENTER THE BLACK SHEEP 29 
 
 therefore easy, a virtue since complicated analysis 
 was going out of vogue. 
 
 It was only because the arrival of Sidney Esta- 
 brook Banks had set him to moralizing that the 
 "drummer" on the Bay State veranda vouchsafed 
 the solitary figure at the station corner the second 
 glance which led to conjecture. 
 
 Obviously he had descended from the same train 
 which had brought that gorgeously attired young 
 gentleman; just as obviously he had not enjoyed the 
 ministrations of the porter and his brush. For his 
 blue serge suit, shiny from long and faithful service, 
 was covered with coal dust and cinders. And yet, 
 just as a largeness of limb and gesture had been 
 Sidney Banks most compelling bid for notice, so was 
 the first impression he gave one of immaculate 
 cleanliness a paradoxical thing, when one con 
 sidered that he had come in "riding the blind." 
 
 In point of fact the need for water, both inside 
 and out, had been preying upon his mind long before 
 the train pulled into the station. A pause beneath 
 the drip of the water-tank, the moment he crawled 
 down from the forward coach, and not an excess of 
 hand-luggage, had delayed his official appearance 
 and robbed him of all save the last act of Sidney s 
 welcome home the Reverend Watson Duncan s 
 warm and hearty handclasp. 
 
 His throat was free from dust now, his face and 
 hands clean and white with an even pallor which,
 
 30 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 coupled with his slenderness, made one wonder just 
 how many hours had passed since he had tasted 
 nourishing food; that is, if one was given to idle 
 and fruitless surmise. And slender he was to a 
 surprising degree, thin of waist and wrist and ankle. 
 But either the matter of food was not troubling him, 
 or else he had grown accustomed to a lack of fulness 
 beneath his belt, for he seemed in no hurry. 
 
 Aimless would not have described him with 
 exactitude. Indeed, as he stood in the shadow, 
 shifting from one stiff leg to the other, he suggested 
 rather an amiable though puzzled "super" in life s 
 human comedy, watching from the wings the strut 
 ting principals upon the stage, thoughtfully groping 
 for the secret of their acceptance, a little apologetic 
 for his own very existence. A faint smile upon his 
 supersensitive lips, mirthless as tears yet savoring 
 not at all of such emotion, heightened this sugges 
 tion. His eyes were blue and fine and steady, mildly 
 questioning and wistfully self-deprecatory. But his 
 nose, thin and quite long, and one eyelid, were of a 
 different quality. The latter member drawn half 
 shut, a trick of thought apparently or a habit 
 contracted while the scar which ran from brow to 
 hair was healing, gave his face a peculiarly quizzical 
 expression. It looked as though he was winking to 
 himself over some choice and subtle whimsy all his 
 own. 
 
 His abstraction was complete as he stood
 
 ENTER THE BLACK SHEEP 31 
 
 watching the barouche disappear. He was equally 
 unaware of his Bay State veranda audience and the 
 newsboy on the truck, who had stopped whimpering 
 to gape his interest again. Even to Mr. Dodge s 
 first comment, growled to be sure but audible 
 enough, failed to penetrate his serene selfconscious- 
 ness. No doubt it was just as well. The manager s 
 words were neither dulcet nor overcordial. 
 
 "So you re back again, are you?" Malignance 
 characterized the question, and not expectation of a 
 reply. "Just when we were beginning to think we 
 might be rid of you for good." 
 
 The "drummer" had enjoyed the change which 
 his first query worked in the expression upon Mr. 
 Dodge s face. He feigned not to notice this verbal 
 venom in supplementing it. 
 
 "Then you know him, do you?" he asked. 
 
 "Know him 1 Who don t in this town 1 That s 
 Jimmy Gordon, the Reverend Watson Duncan s 
 good-for-nothing stepson come home again. He s 
 T. Elihu s nephew, too Watson Duncan married 
 Mathilda Gordon, T. Elihu s widowed sister. Like 
 father, like son! Gordon, he never amounted 
 
 Mr. Dodge would have elaborated his views on 
 heredity, had not the "drummer" interrupted. 
 
 "No-o-o!" exclaimed he, and he succeeded in 
 hiding all hint of malicious intent. "You don t say I 
 T. Elihu s nephew and the dominie s stepson?"
 
 3 2 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 The round face came up suddenly. An awkward 
 aspect of the situation had obtruded itself. "But 
 why didn t they wait for him, and make the reunion 
 complete? Why didn t they take him along but 
 then, of course, they weren t expecting him." 
 
 Mr. Dodge favored his transient guest with a 
 flicker of suspicion. Soon or late, in his experience, 
 such a person was sure to speak in disparagement 
 of Warchester, its worthiest inhabitants, its habits 
 and institutions. It was a characteristic of the breed, 
 undoubtedly; one to be met with chill and cutting 
 dignity. They invariably referred to Manhattan as 
 the "big town;" to Warchester as a "nice little 
 burg." Patronage was their most maddening 
 weapon, insinuation their method of attack. So Mr. 
 Dodge was set for the encounter when he turned, 
 but the plump drummer s palpable innocence dis 
 armed him. He fell back upon sarcasm. 
 
 "Expect him! Take him along! Say, I guess 
 you haven t been very long in this town, have you? 
 Otherwise you d know that it s hard enough on the 
 Reverend Duncan to have to own him as a son, even 
 if it isn t a tie of blood; bad enough to have to feed 
 and clothe him, without parading his shame publicly 
 around the streets. And T. Elihu " thought in that 
 quarter may have rendered him speechless, or maybe 
 he merely paused to dress his words in Sunday 
 phrases "well, you had a good look at him a 
 minute ago. Big-hearted, but hard as granite when
 
 ENTER THE BLACK SHEEP 33 
 
 he knows he s right, T. Elihu is. And he was set 
 against his sister s marriage to Gordon from the 
 first. If the truth s told I shouldn t wonder but what 
 she s been praying for the last four months that he 
 was gone for good and little blame to her, either." 
 
 "Hum-m-m," murmured the drummer. "He 
 doesn t look so so he doesn t look it. Kind of 
 limp and dusty and done-out. But then," ostensibly 
 wishing no argument, "but then, looks are always 
 deceiving." 
 
 "You bet they are!" 
 
 Explosively emphatic but mollified, Mr. Dodge 
 proceeded to give his attention to the one under 
 discussion. The latter was still immobile, but 
 solitary no longer, for he was being joined at that 
 moment by a dog odd coincidence, a dog which, 
 compared with the white bull-terrier, paralleled the 
 contrast which the drummer had been considering 
 between the arrival in blue serge and the one in 
 checkered plaid. 
 
 Not that the canine newcomer was less than a 
 thoroughbred, or suffered by the comparison. If 
 anything it was the reverse. His pink and whiteness 
 once removed from sight, the bull-terrier was best 
 remembered for his indiscriminate lavishment of 
 affection. One forgot his perfection of bulging 
 muscles, his splendid physical condition, in recalling 
 how decidedly he had lacked poise, self-repression 
 the uncalculated carriage of the worldly-wise and
 
 34 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 truly polished, which boisterous effort can never quite 
 counterfeit. 
 
 This bearing the Airedale had and more, though 
 his environment was not that of dog-biscuits and stiff 
 bristle brushes to which the terrier belonged. Sophis 
 tication marked him, acquired in ways not necessarily 
 pleasant, yet possessed without bitterness. He did 
 not leap or fawn. His mind as he trotted into view 
 Was strictly upon his own affairs; his overture a 
 non-committal sniff, tentative without seeming to be 
 wary. One could imagine the boy with the quizzical 
 nose and apologetic eyes prefacing a friendly ad 
 vance with a smile just as uncertain. 
 
 The sniff proved satisfactory; the short and 
 stumpy tail began jerkily to wag. But there the 
 Airedale waited. Rebuff or recognition, it was for 
 the other to bestow. 
 
 For an instant Jimmy Gordon made move toward 
 neither. He stood looking down without clearly 
 seeing the lean head and bristly body, for his mind 
 was otherwise occupied. Then he blinked and 
 recovered himself. Still deliberate, very gravely he 
 squatted to the platform and drew the animal s head 
 against his cheek. Lack of a welcome such as had 
 awaited Sidney Banks, since he had expected none, 
 had worked no unusual emotion in Jimmy Gordon, 
 Realization that any living creature was glad of his 
 return, even though it was only a dog, served to 
 betray him into a rare surrender to impulse.
 
 ENTER THE BLACK SHEEP 35 
 
 The Airedale was capable of understanding just 
 how this was. In a lesser way he was a wanderer 
 and unattached himself. His mouth lolled open; his 
 body stiffened; the stumped tail thumped most 
 mightily upon the planking. And when Jimmy 
 Gordon straightened to his feet, brushing himself 
 with mechanical care, his air which might have been 
 called aimless, had given way to another, still 
 unhurried and abstracted, but unmistakably purpose 
 ful. Evidently the dog had reminded him of an 
 obligation to be dispatched before he could let 
 himself anticipate a moment which already was 
 bringing a tinge of color to his cheeks. 
 
 He crossed the station square without even glanc 
 ing toward the Bay State veranda, thus adding to 
 the manager s grievance. For Mr. Dodge, right 
 eously resolved to favor him with a stony glare, was 
 perforce robbed of the opportunity. The returned 
 prodigal turned his head just once, to smile vaguely 
 over his shoulder at the newsboy who had recovered 
 from his stare in time to cry shrilly, "Ya-a-ay, 
 Jimmy! N d yuh git in?" Favoring the shady side 
 of the street, preceded by the dog that looked back 
 every few feet to see if he was following, he started 
 up Front Street. Mr. Dodge waited, gazing 
 anathema at the thin and shiny back, became con 
 vinced that his guest was not to do the sight justice, 
 and set himself to the task. 
 
 "T. Elihu s black sheep of a nephew." He sighed
 
 36 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 profoundly. "I suppose there is a skeleton in every 
 family cupboard, but it doesn t seem so bad when 
 you can keep it under lock and key. Just look at the 
 shine of those breeches, will you, and the fringe at 
 the heels. And those shoes. A nice Sunday get-up, 
 isn t it?" 
 
 Once more the drummer s round face had become 
 less cherubic, but his voice was softer and more 
 disarming than before. 
 
 "Preachers salaries aren t the biggest in the 
 world," he generously defended the absent man of 
 cloth. "I suppose the dominie dresses his stepson as 
 well as he can afford." 
 
 This was an unlooked-for reply, totally inhar 
 monious and fundamentally stupid. Again Mr. 
 Dodge s suspicion flickered; again the childlike 
 blankness of the drummer s face reassured him. 
 
 "Dress him?" In every debate it was the man 
 ager s way to repeat his adversary s question, as 
 infallibly as an interlocutor feeding lines to a 
 minstrel end-man. "Dress him ! He ought to be 
 thankful that they don t lock the door in his face, 
 and turn him away from their table." 
 
 "As bad as that," mused the traveling man. 
 "Just what s he done in particular?" 
 
 "Nothing." The speaker could not have men 
 tioned murder with bitterer condemnation. "Noth 
 ing yet where they could get the goods on him. 
 When they do they ll welcome him home with a pair
 
 ENTER THE BLACK SHEEP 37 
 
 of handcuffs. He s never done anything. Didn t 
 finish school because the teachers wouldn t let him 
 study what he wanted to learn, instead of what they 
 wanted to learn him. Never held a decent job 
 never did a stroke of real work in his life. Cutting 
 ice in the winter on the lake, with a mob of loafers 
 glad enough to pick up a dollar and a half a day, to 
 spend on liquor to keep em warm, instead of an 
 overcoat. Hanging around the livery stables in 
 summer working on a furniture van, or driving a 
 night-hack, carting God-knows-who, God-knows- 
 where. You saw that yellow cur walk up and recog 
 nize him, didn t you?" 
 
 "Why, yes," the drummer s instant affirmative was 
 almost enthusiastic. "Yes, I noticed the dog par 
 ticularly. As good an Airedale as I ever looked at, 
 from a distance, anyway. Seemed to know him 
 seemed to like him, too." 
 
 "Why wouldn t he?" demanded the manager tri 
 umphantly. "That was Pegleg Hanlon s dog. And 
 Hanlon s is Jimmy Gordon s hang-out. They re the 
 folks he runs with, the gang of crooks and yeggs 
 who buy drinks for the Palace Theater girls who live 
 there. They ll all be glad to see him back, don t 
 worry. Though why they should be is beyond me. 
 I ll bet two to one that he hasn t a red cent in his 
 pockets." 
 
 Ordinarily the drummer would have closed imme 
 diately, if for no other reason than because the odds
 
 3.8 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 were attractive. And though he let the opportunity 
 slip, it was a rash offer on Mr. Dodge s part, as 
 Jimmy Gordon s immediate movements proved. 
 
 Three blocks down the street the latter entered 
 Harry Tracy s corner cigar store, invested a coin 
 in a package of cigarettes to be recommended not 
 for blend or favor, but for their cheapness (twenty 
 for a nickel) and reappeared, smoking, just when the 
 Airedale was retracing his steps regretfully, to look 
 into this dereliction. 
 
 Four months previous Jimmy Gordon had left 
 Warchester (a fast freight almost jerked an arm 
 from a socket on that occasion, when he misjudged 
 its speed in the darkness) with a greasy two dollar 
 bill, a half dollar and a nickel in his possession. The 
 bill was still with him, tucked away in a vest pocket, 
 a fund to be drawn upon only in the last extremity; 
 the half dollar had proved to be a disappointing 
 sham ; and the nickel, not the same one but good coin 
 of the realm acquired elsewhere and brought back to 
 be squandered upon home trade (one of T. Elihu s 
 admonishments), rounded out the total a record to 
 be envied by any tourist returning home after many 
 weeks in strange scenes. 
 
 This show of solvency failed however to discon 
 cert Mr. Dodge. Instead he laughed suddenly as 
 though the sight of the cigarette had recalled a 
 particularly good joke until then overlooked.
 
 ENTER THE BLACK SHEEP 39 
 
 "Yeggs and crooks and chorus women and I 
 heard only last week the reason he gave for asso- 
 ciatin with them. He said some day he was going 
 to write; said he was going to put people like 
 Hanlon s crowd into a story, so that people would 
 understand em better, and blame em less ! Can you 
 beat that? And who do you suppose he said it to? 
 To T. Elihu ! He was bracin T. Elihu for a job on 
 the Gazette, I hear. And T. Elihu " the exquisite 
 humor which that interview must have afforded 
 rendered Mr. Dodge almost inarticulate "T. Elihu 
 said he had a police court reporter already, to cover 
 that sort of story. Coin to be an author! And him 
 old enough next year to vote and a top price he ll 
 get for it, too, don t doubt that. I wish I could have 
 been there and seen T. Elihu s face. They say he 
 just set behind his desk and pointed to the door and 
 turned him out without openin his lips. Watch 
 now! You watch and see if he don t turn to the 
 right. Hanlon s is back of the Palace Theater, 
 three blocks down." 
 
 It proved to be a fair prophecy, though Jimmy 
 Gordon wavered irresolute at the corner. Desire 
 lay in another direction, but the mission which led 
 to Hanlon s was in the nature of a trust. He 
 wheeled, the Airedale gave a pleased skip or two, 
 and Mr. Dodge s voice leaped with elation. 
 
 "What did I tell you !" he cried. "Now isn t that 
 pretty hard on his folks ? I tell you it isn t such a
 
 40 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 long step from runnin with thieves to burglary 
 itself; nor such a long step from burglary to the 
 chair. It s a good thing T. Elihu has a son of his 
 own he can be proud of." 
 
 With that dark hint, capped by a benevolent 
 conclusion, a sort of softness returned to Mr. 
 Dodge s features. Jimmy Gordon s digression from 
 the paths of hope could have had nothing to do with 
 a look so unctuous. It must have sprung from a 
 renewed appreciation of the "sermon" to be found 
 in Sidney s welcome home. The Bay State manager 
 had all but reached the open door when the drummer 
 halted him. He was contemplating the Sunday issue 
 of the Gazette, lying at his feet, open to the page 
 which carried T. Elihu s few, eulogistic remarks. 
 
 "This Pegleg Hanlon s place?" the stranded one 
 inquired softly. "Just what sort of a place is it?" 
 
 A roguish smile rose and marred Mr. Dodge s 
 Sabbath expression a smile most broad and mean 
 ingful. He winked. 
 
 "A joint," he said, "and one of the lowest in the 
 town." 
 
 "But but " the drummer seemed to flounder. 
 "But I thought that there weren t any such rotten 
 spots in this fair and flowered community?" 
 
 Mr. Dodge had been expecting it all along. He 
 should have known better than to lower his guard. 
 This one was a "smart Aleck" like all the rest, only
 
 ENTER THE BLACK SHEEP 41 
 
 a little cleverer in his insinuation. Angry blood 
 surged into the Bay State manager s face. 
 
 "You did, eh?" Insult he contrived to convey for 
 powers of observation so stunted. "You thought so I 
 Well, I want to tell you that we ve got as bad a 
 red-light district in this town as any place twice its 
 size in the east. After twelve o clock it s no place 
 for an an amateur. I guess you haven t been very 
 long in Warchester!" 
 
 Some fat men are capable of marvelously quick 
 movement. The drummer was. He swung around 
 in his chair so abruptly that Mr. Dodge fell back in 
 some disorder. But the drummer remained seated. 
 His voice held level. So did the eyes that rested 
 upon the manager s face altogether too level. 
 
 "No, I haven t," he drawled, "and I m not staying 
 an hour longer than I have to, either. Did I hear 
 your telephone ring or didn t I?" 
 
 Such white rage over a matter of geography was 
 incomprehensible. Mr. Dodge had meant only to 
 resent a slighting allusion to Warchester s complete 
 cityhood. 
 
 "I I guess you did," he accepted his cue mum- 
 blingly. "Somebody must want to speak to me." 
 
 And he betook himself and a permanent hatred of 
 commercial transients inside. For a moment fol 
 lowing his departure the drummer sat breathing 
 heavily. Then he broke into a smothered chuckle. 
 Little by little placidity of a kind returned, and he
 
 42 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 was communing with himself again, when the supper 
 bell rang for the last time. 
 
 "Yup," he muttered as he rose, "the dog sure did 
 like him. He sure did. But then, most dogs have 
 pretty good sense, till they re taught different." 
 
 In the dining-room a waitress with fluffy hair 
 and almond eyes caught his summoning nod. She 
 approached with a toss of her head, for she was 
 known as a favorite with the "trade." But the words 
 he spoke into the ear she held too close to his face 
 wrought a complete change in the simper upon her 
 lips. 
 
 "I see Jimmy Gordon s got back," the drummer 
 said chattily. "Know him, do you?" 
 
 The girl s challenge changed to furtiveness. She 
 wet her lips with a nervous tongue and looked to see 
 if anyone had heard, who might carry the question to 
 Mr. Dodge s ears. 
 
 "I I " she stammered, and there the drummer 
 spared her. 
 
 "All right. I get you," he broke in. "Bring me 
 some coffee, will you, Little One? I like it warm, at 
 least and I can drink it hot if I have to." 
 
 The girl hesitated. These words were of a 
 language she understood, but the tone employed 
 baffled her none too quick brain. She would have 
 thought it kindly and respectful, only such a possi 
 bility was out of the question. Furtiveness still
 
 ENTER THE BLACK SHEEP 43 
 
 marred her cheap prettiness as she started for the 
 kitchen. 
 
 The next day the drummer stopped for one last 
 look up Front Street, before he boarded his train. 
 The thoroughfare was alive with traffic, but the 
 gunner and his mate in the center of the Common 
 would not be overlooked. A pitying smile edged the 
 departing traveling-man s lips as he gazed upon 
 them. He addressed his farewell words to the 
 intrepid pair. 
 
 "You poor boobs, you," he broke scathingly into 
 the vernacular; "you poor boobs ! Take a look over 
 your shoulders once in a while. Don t you know 
 that when they get you in this town, they ll do it 
 from behind?"
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 , SPEAKING OF DOGS 
 
 CERTAIN now that his destination and Jimmy 
 Gordon s was a common one, the Airedale 
 abandoned all anxiety on that score. 
 
 Main Street was less deserted than the thorough 
 fare down which they had come. To the right in 
 front of Hicks drug store a dark green suburban 
 car stood on a switch; on curb and sidewalk strag 
 gling knots of passengers were waiting to transfer to 
 another which made connection at this point for 
 another district. And although the great man him 
 self had passed from sight, accompanied by the 
 Reverend Watson Duncan, those "transfers" who 
 were on terms of familiarity with the glittering 
 equipage were indicating where it stood before the 
 Gazette offices, for the benefit of fellow-passengers 
 less blessed, a touch of patronage kindly, though a 
 bit astonished at ignorance so provincial, coloring 
 this Samaritan service. 
 
 Naturally the attention which the kindred way 
 farers attracted was negligible in the extreme. 
 Disaster has a cynical habit of edging into a scene 
 in just such a casual fashion. Their appearance 
 was marked by no one except Sidney Banks, lolling 
 
 44
 
 SPEAKING OF DOGS 45 
 
 back upon the plum upholstery, and one lA.be! 
 Thompson, citizen of color, seated upon the low step 
 of the Palace Theater lobby, directly across the way. 
 Sidney, apprised of the Airedale s approach by a 
 sudden tug upon the white bull-terrier s leash, was 
 too immediately taken with inspiration to have eyes 
 for the one who followed after. And Abel s recog 
 nition of dog and human, while complete, was 
 entirely subconscious. Mr. Thompson s was a semi- 
 hypnotic state, brought about partly by idolatrous 
 consideration of that tan top-coat and checkered 
 suit, partly by envious reconstruction of a choice 
 bit of gossip which had heralded the wearer s return 
 to Warchester. 
 
 Persistent rumor had it that a possible hasty 
 alliance with a lady of the footlights who worried 
 her head not at all over engagements theatrical was 
 responsible for T. Elihu s concern for the health of 
 his only son. People of high degree and low had 
 been chuckling over it for days chuckling as if it 
 was a good joke upon T. Elihu (a great joker 
 himself!) and an amusing escapade not at all to be 
 condemned, though to be mentioned and enjoyed 
 discreetly, of course. This was Mr. Thompson s 
 view of the affair. He was rolling the piquant 
 morsel upon his tongue and regretting the perhaps 
 too impetuous purchase of a delicate green creation 
 striped with purple which he was wearing, when the 
 first hint of trouble to come compelled him to
 
 46 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 relegate both thoughts temporarily to the back 
 ground. 
 
 The Airedale outstripped Jimmy Gordon. He 
 came up at a trot, pausing in the head of the alley 
 which, piled high with discarded scenery and less 
 recognizable junk, ran past the Palace stage-door to 
 the entrance of Hanlon s hotel in the rear, to give 
 the gentleman of color, also a friend of his, a wag 
 or two and a measuring glance. By his own 
 description Abel Thompson was an assistant stage- 
 manager of the theater; by force of circumstance, 
 property-boy and raiser-back and the good-natured 
 butt of all abuse which had no other safe outlet. And 
 as he was often called upon to exercise his talents as 
 night chef in Hanlon s, between seasons as picket at 
 the stage-door, from the Airedale s point of view he 
 was a personage particularly worthy of cultivation. 
 Abel was reaching out a reciprocating hand when he 
 noted, with a distinct shock, that the bull-terrier no 
 longer occupied a space on the seat beside his master. 
 A moment earlier Mr. Thompson could have 
 sworn with a clear conscience, that a leash held the 
 madly straining white animal in check a mistake, 
 however, on the face of it, for the terrier was 
 already down upon the pavement, his whimper a 
 low muttering, his intent anything but obscure. In 
 stantly Mr. Thompson drew back his hand, so 
 quickly that one might have thought he was estab 
 lishing an alibi, come what might. And his lazy
 
 SPEAKING OF DOGS 4? 
 
 click of invitation became a command made stern by 
 necessity. 
 
 "Go long, you yalla dawg!" he ordered crisply. 
 "Go long bout yuh own affairs, Oh Boy." 
 
 But the Airedale only blinked back at him, singu 
 larly out of sympathy with such incipient panic. He 
 failed to change his position in the slightest degree, 
 except that he turned his head slightly, to survey 
 the terrier with a look neither prolonged nor 
 inimical. And yet the anxiety which this serenity 
 promptly provoked indicated that Mr. Thompson 
 was familiar with the symptom. He raised a 
 troubled face toward the barouche, opened his 
 mouth, and became instantly uncertain how to pro 
 ceed. 
 
 There were certain liberties which white folks 
 tolerated; certain impertinences which seemed to 
 amuse and even flatter them. Interference, on the 
 other hand, with their preconceived notions invari 
 ably made them peevish a barely believable phase 
 of the present situation. Sidney Banks was occupied 
 with the Sunday paper most elaborately occupied 
 in fact, TBut had he been put to it, again Mr. Thomp 
 son could have sworn, conscience clear, that a faint 
 s-s-s-s-s was arising from the general direction of the 
 barouche. Stifling the well-meant impulse, he rolled 
 his eyes in delighted anticipation, until the whites 
 shone like china marbles. He swung from the stiff- 
 legged advance of the white terrier to glimpse the
 
 48 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 Airedale, back still turned and deep in thought, and 
 suffered a reaction. It was a sacrifice, especially in 
 the face of that suspected s-s-s, but Mr. Thompson 
 did his duty as he saw it. 
 
 "Bet call yuh dawg, Mist Banks," he lifted his 
 voice apologetically. "Bet call yuh dawg!" 
 
 Mr. Banks raised his head, looking in several 
 wrong directions before his gaze found the point 
 from which this suggestion had come. Thereupon 
 he smiled with careless lack of comprehension, and 
 turned a page of his paper. Presently the s-s-s-s rose 
 a little louder, and urged by it and morally fortified, 
 the terrier stepped more jerkily, the mutter a swell 
 ing menace in his throat. He closed the last few feet 
 which separated him from his chosen prey with a 
 whirlwind rush. But the threatened annihilation 
 was momentarily delayed. 
 
 Without excessive effort the Airedale side-stepped 
 and avoided the flashing teeth and wide pink jaws. 
 Half facing away from the terrier, whose rush had 
 shot him across the sidewalk, he turned questioning 
 eyes upon the face of Mr. Abel Thompson. The 
 latter s concern deepened to dismay. This also was 
 a symptom. 
 
 "Bet call yuh dawg, Mist Banks," he repeated, 
 and dared plead urgency now. "Bet call him off. 
 He go git nto trouble, f yuh don ." 
 
 The warning was heartfelt and sincere, but it came 
 too late. Sidney Banks lifted vexed features, but he
 
 SPEAKING OF DOGS 49 
 
 had no time in which to register protest against the 
 uninvited freedom of address in which the gentleman 
 of color was indulging himself. At that instant the 
 bull-terrier decided that this antagonist was too 
 cowardly, too utterly craven, for the employment of 
 caution. If he wouldn t turn and fight, it were best 
 to mete out speedy destruction and have done with 
 it. He tore in again. Again, his gaze harassed now, 
 the Airedale shifted and came clear. And then a 
 dusty, blue-serge clad figure threw a shadow across 
 Mr. Thompson s paling face. 
 
 "Take care of yourself, Oh Boy," a still voice 
 said. 
 
 Jimmy Gordon, covering ground more slowly, had 
 come up with his friend. He was leaning against a 
 brick corner of the alley. And though the words 
 were barely audible, gravely unimpassioned and so 
 entirely detached that it would have been hard to say 
 who had spoken them, the Airedale beseeched Mr. 
 Thompson no longer. 
 
 He faced the terrier. He dropped his head until 
 the lean muzzle barely cleared the ground. And 
 when the bull, whining his approval of this final 
 stand, circled and bunched his splendid muscles, calm 
 as a trained boxer he side-stepped once more. But 
 no lull followed this maneuver. Action fairly blurred 
 that section of the sidewalk before the Palace 
 Theater. Riot rose and rent the Sabbath hush. 
 
 At the terrier s first pained yelp the throng of
 
 50 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 "transfers" surged southward. Before they had 
 crossed the street the soda clerk from Hicks and the 
 car crew were pelting at their heels. One and all, as 
 they ranged up, breathless but joyous, they were 
 certain only as to the number of white dogs involved. 
 The number of yellow ones baffled calculation. 
 
 For the Airedaile moved too rapidly to be fol 
 lowed with the eye. He fought soundlessly as well, 
 the terrier for a time making noise enough for both. 
 Yet even Sidney Banks, standing up in the barouche 
 across the street, the better to watch the combat all 
 but obscured from him, did not realize how swift 
 and deadly was his work. But when a particu 
 larly high and piercing howl ended abruptly in an 
 ominous, bubbly gurgle, Jimmy Gordon, the only 
 aloof and unmoved spectator, was constrained to act. 
 
 He broke through the throng and fell to his knee 
 beside the writhing bodies. It was time enough, for 
 the terrier s gasps were wheezelike, his throat 
 stained crimson. Dashing up in Jimmy Gordon s 
 wake, the confident smile wiped from his lips, Sidney 
 arrived just as the yellow dog s jaws were relaxing 
 beneath the thin fingers pressure. Livid at the sight 
 of the prostrate victim which the Airedale relin 
 quished with reluctance, Sidney set himself and raised 
 his heavy stick. It fell, and rose and fell again. The 
 first blow struck full across the Airedale s quiet head; 
 the second laid the knuckles of one of Jimmy 
 Gordon s hands open to the bone.
 
 SPEAKING OF DOGS 51 
 
 Staggering the yellow dog drew away toward the 
 mouth of the alley that led to Hanlon s. Dazed 
 he was unable to dodge, and one of Sidney s boots 
 raised and carried him much of the distance. He 
 lay for a moment where he fell, breathing sobbingly, 
 before he tottered on. Sidney had the bull-terrier in 
 his arms when Jimmy Gordon straightened. He, 
 too, like the Airedale, swayed a little. He looked at 
 his hand looked up and smiled deprecatingly. 
 
 "Hello, Sid, how are you?" he said. "Gee, look 
 at that ! You cut my hand clean to the bone." 
 
 There was no resentment in the attention he called 
 to his wound. It was simply a part of his wholly 
 mild and curiously impersonal greeting. For answer 
 Sidney shouldered him to one side. And the crowd 
 of enthusiasts, their ardor already dampened, were 
 watching him carry the broken bull-terrier back to 
 the barouche, when Abel Thompson, whose ecstasy 
 had been spontaneous, chancing to roll his eyes aloft, 
 delivered himself of a horrified snort. 
 
 "Glory to Moses," breathed that gentleman of 
 color. "Glory to Moses look darl" 
 
 Having spoken he turned and ducked from sight. 
 And when those who heard it obeyed his injunction, 
 they too found immediate motion indispensable to 
 comfort. 
 
 In a second story window of the Gazette building 
 across the street loomed T. Elihu Banks, his great
 
 52 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 bulk not quite filling the aperture, his purple face 
 appalling. Very plainly he, too, had been witness 
 of the encounter; his attitude toward such sacrilege 
 was alarmingly evident. At the first stiff gesture 
 which he flung at it the rabble dispersed that is, all 
 but the thin and tired figure in shiny blue serge. And 
 in the latter s remaining upon the stricken field there 
 should be read nothing heroic. He was too wholly 
 intent upon his hurt hand to see anything else for a 
 moment or two, though to the Jovian figure his 
 conduct savored of defiance no doubt. Jimmy 
 Gordon stood all alone when he finally raised his 
 head. 
 
 A less preoccupied person would have flinched, if 
 only involuntarily, before that blasting wrath, 
 flanked by the pallid rage of the Reverend Watson 
 Duncan and the sheer distaste of Mr. J. J. Latham. 
 Jimmy merely blinked a rascally clever simulation 
 of surprise! Next he smiled, and the slightly 
 crooked grin rendered misconstruction in the other 
 quarter impossible. He even dared brazenly to nod 
 his head in greeting, and though the window was 
 closed and the distance considerable, Jimmy heard 
 T. Elihu roar. The words which the town s great 
 man addressed to the man of cloth were indistin 
 guishable; their probable gist gave the boy little 
 trouble to guess. Near the stage-door he met Mr. 
 Thompson returning to see what had happened. 
 This mercurial one had recovered entirely from his
 
 SPEAKING OF DOGS 53 
 
 brief glimpse of T. Elihu s face, and craved another. 
 
 "Din I tole at young man he bet call his dawg?" 
 he chuckled in anything but a chastened voice. "Din 
 I tole him twice? What business a white bull-pup 
 got mixin with Oh Boy? He s some warrior, at 
 dawg some warrior!" 
 
 Jimmy nodded his thorough accord with this 
 sentiment, but he seemed little inclined to talk. As 
 he lifted a hand to brush damp hair back from his 
 forehead blood dripped to the pavement. The 
 negro s eyes rolled heavenward. 
 
 "Lookit at hand!!" he whispered. "Fowl Din 
 he lam you? Bet come in an lemme wrop it up." 
 
 His eyes again apologetic the black sheep wheeled 
 up the alley. There was no indecision in his move 
 ment, no thought of coming at his destination by 
 a less observed route entered his head. But the 
 weight of three pairs of eyes was heavy upon his 
 back, the presence of one observer a fact to be 
 regretted in the extreme. Devoutly Jimmy Gordon 
 wished that J. J. Latham might have been elsewhere 
 at that instant.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 THE GIRL CALLED MELODY 
 
 HANLON S Hotel, a four-square structure of 
 red brick better known as Pegleg s Place, 
 stood in a hollow square formed by three 
 built-up sides of the city block and "the river." The 
 outlook, therefore, which guests of this doubtful 
 hostelry enjoyed was scarcely one to be recom 
 mended with pride, though as a matter of record 
 Hanlon s patrons were little given to a consideration 
 of the unsavory litter surrounding the back doors 
 of these edifices of better repute, or the stream of 
 water, iridescent with oil and acid, which edged the 
 hotel "park," a court of crumpled cement, innocent 
 of tree or other living, green thing, and aquiver with 
 August heat. 
 
 In fact, whenever one of his patrons began to 
 frequent too persistently the rusted iron benches with 
 which this latter expanse was dotted, brooding too 
 openly over the sluggish current, Hanlon, watching 
 without seeming to watch, invariably found an 
 excuse to suggest a change of scene. Conduct un 
 becoming a gentleman or a lady, evinced by a 
 desire to swing a chair or scream epithets in a tone 
 which might penetrate the alley to Main Street, 
 served as often as any; general arrears in bar and 
 
 54
 
 THE GIRL CALLED MELODY 55 
 
 board not at all. For those who lived in Hanlon s 
 were of a peculiar sensitiveness in some matters, of 
 a peculiar punctility as well a trait which would 
 have surprised an outside world had it become 
 general knowledge. Guests paid when they could, 
 and almost never failed to pay. No caste was lost 
 simply because of a temporary difference of opinion, 
 backed up orally or physically, as the case might be. 
 So, by watchful tact, Hanlon spared their feelings 
 and saved his house unduly gruesome publicity at 
 the same time. And for the rest, Interior and 
 exterior, the hotel itself was spotless, even about its 
 back door. 
 
 The front office through which Jimmy Gordon 
 made his entrance from the alley was deserted at 
 that hour. Business was always light in Hanlon s 
 between midday and nightfall, the stretch from 
 midnight till daybreak witnessing the liveliest 
 demonstrations. And a larger rear room, doubly 
 light by contrast with the long and dingy passageway 
 by which it was reached, ostensibly open to anyone, 
 at any time, by its very accessibility, manifested but 
 slighter show of trade. 
 
 A single couple leaned over one of the small round 
 tables with which a scant dance space was banked; a 
 lone waiter with a white patch of apron across his 
 thighs leaned against a window-sill, back to his 
 charges. And the couple, a fox-faced youth and a 
 girl with a white plumed hat, seemed oppressed by
 
 56 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 the weather; the waiter indifferent to the point of 
 stupidity. Hope of diversion, no matter how trivial, 
 showed in the faces of all three as they turned at 
 the sound of an opening door. But with the entrance 
 of Jimmy, followed by the gentleman of color who, 
 habitually sensation-hungry himself, was loath to 
 leave that injured hand in the absence of better 
 divertisement, all similarity of expression ended. 
 
 The waiter, of a deceptively flabby expansiveness, 
 continued outwardly indifferent, though his air of 
 stupidity left him. His eyes went directly to the 
 frayed and bleeding knuckles; he appraised them 
 instantaneously, calculating the extent of the injury 
 and the probable finality, for the time being at least, 
 of the affair which had occasioned the damage. 
 Such was the waiter s system. And his incipient 
 suspicion had become actual indifference behind his 
 mask of apathy, before he raised his eyes and 
 recognizing the owner of the knuckles, knew beyond 
 doubt that no conflict upon the premises threatened. 
 Neither surprise nor curiosity at the return of one 
 whose absence had been more than once remarked 
 during the last few months crossed his heavy face. 
 He intruded no greeting since the prodigal was quite 
 evidently occupied with thoughts of his own. The 
 window-sill creaked under massive elbows again. 
 Again the waiter seemed stupid. 
 
 The other man s appraisal of the newcomer was
 
 THE GIRL CALLED MELODY 57 
 
 briefer, more in detail, and the unflattering conclu 
 sions arrived at not too scrupulously concealed by 
 half. Arrogant display of his opinions was a 
 characteristic of this personage one Whitney Gar- 
 rity, a lightweight of parts and a cosmopolitan 
 scholar by his own description; William Garrity, 
 alias Alibi to the police by reason of his adroit 
 manipulation of coincidence, and a menace to the 
 established order of things by birth. 
 
 Whitey s eyes, too, touched first upon the crim 
 soned hand and the supercilious smile of a profes 
 sional for the crude work of one less versed in the 
 craft twisted his features. They flitted from run-over 
 shoes to the mildly apologetic face above dusty blue 
 serge, and the smile became a pitying sneer. Whitey 
 wore a two-carat stone in his red four-in-hand; he 
 sported another, smaller but not so yellow, upon a 
 white and femininely tapered finger. And his was 
 a self-centered nature, else he would have sensed all 
 that lay behind the waiter s silence and noticed as 
 well the change which altered the face of his com 
 panion, the girl who sat with him at the opposite 
 side of the table. 
 
 There was nothing complex about the expression 
 which swept her face. A moment before she might 
 have been called pretty, had it not been for the 
 defiant curl of her lips which more than belied a sort 
 of childish plea for kindness in her eyes. And now 
 quite suddenly she was pretty in spite of it in spite
 
 58 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 of her atrocity of a hat the white plume of which 
 flopped forward as she nodded with an impulsiveness 
 both eager and uncertain. Even Whitey became 
 aware of her quickened loveliness. He wheeled in 
 time to see Jimmy return the nod with what might 
 have been construed as tender self-consciousness, in 
 any place but Hanlon s. 
 
 It was confusion which made Jimmy s bow 
 awkward, combined with a startled, guilty certainty 
 that there must be something behind so colorful a 
 smile which he should at least remember. As it was 
 he recognized in her just one of the Palace Theater 
 girls, known to the habitue of the hotel as Melody. 
 She had never offered another name, and beyond that 
 the boy s recollection was an embarrassing blank. 
 But Whitey s gaze which followed him the length of 
 the room waxed vicious. It dwelt upon him after he 
 had dropped into a chair and surrendered his hand 
 to Abel Thompson s ardent ministrations. 
 
 The girl called Melody should have known better. 
 Disaster before now had taught her the inadvisa- 
 bility of divided interest during business hours and 
 earned her the reputation of a trouble-maker. Yet 
 she, too, continued to gaze with warm and yearning 
 softness until Whitey could no longer contain his 
 displeasure. 
 
 "Why n t you invite him over?" he growled. "He 
 looks like he might be a free-spendin gent with a 
 bank-roll."
 
 THE GIRL CALLED MELODY -59 
 
 The remark was thoroughly in tune with many 
 which had lately caused the girl to wonder whether 
 Whitey was worth the while even taking into con 
 sideration the yellow stones. In any walk of life 
 self-sufficiency is bound to grow irksome sooner or 
 later and gossip at Hanlon s was beginning to accuse 
 Mr. Garrity of a parsimony anything but promising, 
 his tales of magnificent improvidence notwithstand 
 ing. 
 
 "Why, that s only Jimmy Gordon," she stooped 
 to explanation partly because memory had softened 
 her spirit as well as her lips, partly because it was 
 her choice to be amiable. "He s been away quite a 
 while. I I didn t know he d got back." 
 
 "Ain t been writin you regular, then?" Whitey s 
 response had the patness of a litany. "Maybe he s 
 decided that you don t figure any more in his young 
 life." 
 
 Usually this betrayal of a possible jealousy would 
 have been turned to advantage without the loss of a 
 moment or a syllable. Instead the girl bowed her 
 head lower, as if against verbal intrusion, and re 
 mained momentarily silent. When she did speak it 
 was with dreary gentleness showing in her voice. 
 
 "Seems to me I hear somebody say you was a 
 wise guy," she might have been musing aloud, "or 
 maybe I just overheard you talking about yourself. 
 Can t you see that he don t belong here or do you 
 need a woman to tell it to you?"
 
 60 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 That was her second mistake, if it was conciliation 
 she desired. This time Jimmy, chancing to meet the 
 look which Whitey flung that way, stirred a little and 
 blinked his surprise. He would have believed that 
 the insolence in it was personal, had he not been sure 
 that the fox-faced person was a total stranger, and 
 logically disinterested in him, unpleasantly or other 
 wise. Abel Thompson mistook the start and the blink 
 as indications of pain and tempered somewhat his 
 zeal. 
 
 "So-o-o," said Whitey. "Then he s a nice little 
 boy ! Not our sort at all ?" 
 
 With far less effort than that by which it had 
 achieved gentleness the girl s face hardened. Even 
 her voice changed and grew nasal. 
 
 "Our sort!" Matchless scorn made Whitey s 
 sarcasm seem amateurish. "Our sort? You re dead 
 right he ain t. He s so different that he treated me 
 once as if I was a lady, without even stopping to 
 wonder whether I was or not." She paused and 
 decided to speak further. "Once I got into the wrong 
 church, but the right pew a church where there was 
 only ladies and gentlemen present, until I horned in. 
 Can you beat that for a dippy stunt me walking into 
 a church and helping myself to a seat just as inde 
 pendent as if it was a lecture or something where you 
 only had to buy a ticket to get by? You re right you 
 can t. I guess it was the singing I wanted to hear. I 
 never was strong for sermons, and I sung in a choir
 
 THE GIRL CALLED MELODY 61 
 
 once myself. So in I sailed, and I wasn t wearing a 
 lid like the one I got on, either, but I played in luck 
 just the same. I drew a place next to him ; since then 
 I ve remembered that there was plenty of room in his 
 neighborhood, so maybe the usher seen to that, too. 
 Anyway, he opened a hymn-book and let me hang on 
 to one cover of it, just when I was going down for 
 the last time. We stood up together and sung, him 
 the tenor and me the air sung Nearer My God To 
 Thee, while the rest of the congregation tried to 
 figure whether it would be better to call the police or 
 wait and disinfect the building later. . . . Laugh, 
 damn you, laugh ! Do you think I m tellin you this 
 because I think you would understand. Why, I ain t 
 sure you would know what a church is. I m telling it 
 because I ve never told it before, never spoke of it, 
 and I wanted to hear how funny it would sound to 
 myself." 
 
 Whitey controlled his mirth and attempted to 
 interrupt, but she cut him short with a dangerous 
 fury. 
 
 "According to my count, you ve blown me to one 
 glass of beer this afternoon. The sandwich don t 
 enter; it s been served steady, every Sunday, for a 
 month. That s regal, and a poor girl ain t got any 
 money. He lends all he can spare to them he knows 
 can t ever pay it back. So now, if you have to knock, 
 go ahead and knock. I ain t been particular for a 
 long while about what I listen to. But pick somebody
 
 62 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 besides Jimmy Gordon or you ll be doin a solitary 
 or wake up wondering what fell on you. This ain t 
 gay Paree nor Good old Chi nor little old 
 N Yawk. This is Hanlon s and Hanlon s is the 
 only place in Warchester where folks can t knock that 
 kid ! Lay off ! Do I make myself sufficiently clear ?" 
 
 Apparently she did. Whitey tried to cover his 
 white rage with a laugh, but the effort was a little 
 strained and uncomfortable. Further, he kept a 
 cautious eye upon the beer mug which she was finger 
 ing nervously. 
 
 "Gee, ain t she the little spitfire," he sought 
 facetiously to relieve the tension. "How d I know 
 he was a particular friend of yourn?" 
 
 "He ain t," Melody flashed back at him. "This 
 minute if you was to ask him quick for my name he 
 couldn t give it to you. Didn t you get that from 
 the way he pinked up when I bowed to him. He 
 ain t my friend. I I m a friend of his." She 
 faltered and her fierceness was gone of a sudden. 
 She swallowed with some difficulty and coughed a 
 little. "It s hot in here," she finished unsteadily. 
 "Come on. I gotta get out in the air." 
 
 And because she spoke no more on that topic 
 Whitey thought that the final shaft of hatred which 
 he launched at the one she had championed so bitterly 
 had escaped her notice. It pleased him to anticipate 
 another meeting at no distant date. The affront 
 which he had suffered at Jimmy Gordon s hands was
 
 THE GIRL CALLED MELODY 63 
 
 nameless but nonetheless unforgivable. It demanded 
 expiation. After the door had closed behind this 
 new enemy which he had acquired unwittingly, Jimmy 
 broached the business which had brought him there. 
 
 "Hanlon home?" he asked. 
 
 The Palace theater factotum and substitute chef 
 shook his head. 
 
 "He ain t been roun sence mawnin ," he replied. 
 "We been havin mo or less trouble eveh sence 
 you left, and las Wednesday it done reached a crisis. 
 Twant much jes a little argymint ovah too many 
 aces in a poker deck on y some folks is nachelly 
 got to go out an talk." He rolled his eyes scorn 
 fully at the door through which Whitey had just 
 made his exit. "Repo tah got hole of it and make a 
 big story outen it two men dying and another 
 cripple foh life, when it ain t nuthin mo than a 
 couple haids busted fum gettin in the way of a table 
 laig. But lection s comin on again, an folks up on 
 the hill is talkin refohm again, so Pegleg, he out 
 rangin things up an pacifyin the proletariat. Some 
 folks want to watch out who they tell what about. 
 Goin git into trouble f they don ." 
 
 The allusion was scarcely veiled, but Jimmy 
 ignored it. He reached into a pocket and brought 
 out a roll of bills, small of denomination, and limp 
 and very dirty. 
 
 "Give this to Hanlon when he gets back, will 
 you?" he requested. "I guess I m too tired to wait,
 
 64 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 and he s likely to be late, anyway. Just tell him I ran 
 into Dempsey last week. Tell him Dempsey thanks 
 him for the loan. He caught a fruiter for Brazil." 
 
 The negro tucked the bills into a pocket of his 
 vivid waistcoat without examination or comment 
 concerning the one from whom they had come. It 
 was ancient history that Dempsey had left town a 
 little hastily, not so many weeks before, because he 
 had been so long law-abiding that the police, in 
 exasperation, had finally arranged a misdemeanor 
 for him. Abel gave more attention to the boy s 
 statement that he was tired. It was seldom that 
 Jimmy Gordon spoke concerning himself. He tied a 
 last knot in a none too white handkerchief and patted 
 the improvised bandage. 
 
 "Dar now," he said. "Dar! She s all clean and 
 spectable. You you lookin mighty bluish roun 
 yo mouf. Shall I get you sumpin to drink?" 
 
 "I guess I d better be getting along home," he 
 said. 
 
 The gentleman of color remained seated after the 
 door had opened and closed once more. He wrestled 
 for a while with a knotty problem and finally had to 
 give it up. 
 
 "That s a funny boy," he audibly admitted defeat. 
 "Never disclose to nobody what he thinkin at all. 
 "F I din know where he was goin I d say he was 
 glad to go."
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 COME YE WHO ARE WEARY 
 
 TWO phrases, eloquent of an old-fashioned 
 decade, had survived Warchester s growth 
 to cityhood; and while one of them had lost, 
 more or less, its geographical exactitude, the other, 
 from year to year, continued to increase in social 
 significance. "Down town," at its elastic best, could 
 no longer be said to embrace the city s vast and soot- 
 soiled area of industry quite as faithfully as it had 
 once covered a compact block or two of marts 
 devoted to barter and trade. But "up on the hill * 
 was still the "exclusive" residential section of the 
 community, though the town s growth, commented 
 upon in public as phenomenal, had not respected 
 wholly even this abode of the "best people." 
 
 In private this insidious encroachment was 
 deplored, principally by those families whose white 
 and green colonial homes dated back to that earlier 
 era but only in private. For the male heads of 
 those same families, retired from actual participa 
 tion, since the inroad of competitive commercalism, 
 were growing more and more disposed to accept, 
 ready-made, the doctrines of their more active 
 
 65
 
 66 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 neighbors, as unreservedly as they intrusted to them 
 their dividend-paying investments. 
 
 If T. Elihu Banks, President of the Commonwealth 
 Trust, openly exulted in expansion and blessed it in 
 the name of prosperity, it would have argued a 
 deplorable lack of ordinary common sense not to 
 have shared his enthusiasms and very positive 
 prejudices as well. 
 
 Ever since he could remember Jimmy Gordon s 
 step had always begun to lag whenever he turned 
 into Maple Street and faced the incline which led into 
 this quarter of short lawns and shade trees and 
 discreet silences, not so much from a reluctance to be 
 identified with its dignified traditions as because it 
 had long been plain that he was a dweller there 
 largely through sufferance. It was this realization 
 which lay behind the perpetual question in his eyes, 
 and his air of mild apology. Whenever it was 
 feasible he took a different way home, one more 
 circuitous but less in the nature of a trespass. 
 
 And yet, that afternoon, his step quickened, once 
 he had left behind him the last of the shops which 
 had insinuated themselves around the corner from 
 Main Street. He walked with his lean face thrust 
 forward, the difficulties of this more direct route 
 temporarily forgotten. For several years he had 
 been living, in spirit, a totally different reappearance 
 in this charmed section. Three months before, when 
 he had left Warchester with a laboriously typed
 
 COME YE WHO ARE WEARY 67 
 
 manuscript buttoned inside his coat, he had pictured 
 himself returning costumed after a fashion not quite 
 as compelling as his cousin Sidney s, yet nevertheless 
 no longer calculated to offend a fastidious neighbor 
 hood. 
 
 This triumph of letters had suffered a serious 
 setback, but there was no bitterness in the boy s heart 
 because it had proved a false hope. He had 
 experienced too many disappointments of one sort 
 or another, not to have acquired a certain dogged 
 philosophy. 
 
 So he hurried and took little note of the stir which 
 kept pace with him on both sides of the street. Once 
 he looked at his watch, a cheap affair not to be 
 trusted in an emergency, and forgot to regret the 
 dust upon his clothing. Custom was still a fixed and 
 dependable matter in Warchester. At that moment, 
 if the watch was correct, he knew that Evelyn 
 Latham was holding court upon the Latham front 
 veranda, surrounded by feminine and masculine 
 members of what was religiously referred to, of late, 
 in the Gazette society column, as the city s younger 
 set. 
 
 Jimmy was not a member of this circle; with the 
 literary triumph in mind, now indefinitely postponed 
 but far from abandoned, he had never gone so far 
 as to dwell upon a day when it should open to receive 
 him. Yet he, too, had been paying homage for a 
 long time, content to worship, even from afar,
 
 68 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 strangely untroubled by jealousy for those who were 
 luckier and could sit at her very feet. 
 
 If it is true that distance lends enchantment, there 
 was ground enough for his devotion. He had never 
 spoken a word to her in his life. But he had bared 
 his head to her twice as she drove past in her electric 
 and nodded to him nodded unmistakably. And 
 both occasions, double assurance that she was aware 
 of his existence, had left him for a time in such a 
 state that he was incapable of wondering whether 
 recognition was due to the character of his 
 reputation, or in spite of it. 
 
 In front of St. Luke s church, one block south of 
 the Latham home, he stopped for the first time since 
 he had left Hanlon s alley behind him, though his 
 quickened breath was not the result of the rapid 
 ascent. He wanted to enjoy anticipation to the full, 
 and instead the undesirable luster of portions of his 
 raiment promptly intruded itself. Gravely then he 
 pondered the advisability of crossing the street, a 
 move which would carry him past the doors of T. 
 Elihu s great brick pile of a house and necessitate a 
 direct recrossing, or of continuing straight ahead; 
 shaking his head a little over the lack of luster upon 
 his shoes, he decided for the latter course. 
 
 The next instant he had started on again, and 
 come again to a standstill. At first the gay dresses 
 of the girls in the chairs on the veranda were only 
 blurred patches of color in his eyes, the gallantry
 
 COME YE WHO ARE WEARY 69 
 
 upon the steps mere lumps of indeterminate gray. 
 He blinked, but the blur was stubborn, until a frag 
 ment of laughter penetrated the roaring in his ears 
 laughter low and modulated and unmistakable. 
 And then he saw clearly her face. 
 
 She was leaning forward, taunting Lloyd Jameson, 
 Judge Jameson s son, leading him with amiable 
 malice from clumsy flattery to clumsier amplification. 
 Even without the name of Latham she would have 
 been hailed as a beauty. Strangers seeing her for 
 the first time rarely failed to marvel at the vivid 
 crimson of her mouth, against the smooth olive of 
 her skin, before they asked who she was. The boy 
 in front of the church was watching the glint of 
 light upon her black hair, so arranged that it curled 
 down and nestled tight against small ears, when a 
 clock nearby struck the half-hour and all the rest 
 happened the self-same scene which had occupied 
 his mind, hours before, while he "rode the blind," 
 the grind of the wheels an inferno in his ears, a 
 storm of cinders biting his face. 
 
 A maid in crisp black and white came to the door 
 and Evelyn Latham straightened and turned, her 
 brows inquiringly lifted. The maid asked a question, 
 and in reply she signed her pleasure with a bow 
 ineffably brief and cool. And immediately thereafter 
 a wicker service table made its appearance, laden 
 with sandwiches and tiny cubes of cake with vari 
 colored icings. The confusion incident to a closer
 
 70 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 grouping; the treble of feminine chatter; Lloyd 
 Jameson s dangerous alacrtiy to serve a sex helpless 
 at a certain age every detail was poignantly famil 
 iar to the motionless figure who stood looking on. 
 
 Countless Sunday afternoons, in his room in the 
 Reverend Watson Duncan s white cottage which 
 overlooked the Latham grounds, Jimmy Gordon had 
 watched, proudly, the gracious informality of the 
 hostess. Behind half-closed shutters he had ached 
 with a hunger which pink frosted cakes never could 
 have appeased, until, by the merciful grace of his 
 own vivid imagination, he was enabled to rise and 
 leave his physical self sitting there, while he 
 sauntered across the lawn and, after a gay and 
 inconsequential word or two of greeting, catching the 
 slight yet beckoning motion of her hand, went to 
 take the place she had saved for him a place next 
 her own. 
 
 It would be difficult to say just how long he might 
 have stood there on the sidewalk before St. Luke s, 
 a shabby figure slightly stooped by fatigue, staring 
 rom perplexed and wistful eyes, before he recol 
 lected his position, or the sexton came out and 
 performed that service for him. It is a mootless 
 point as well, for just as he was about to play his 
 part the bodiless one in which he had grown letter- 
 perfect another actor, less hesitant and better 
 costumed, simultaneously broke the spell, and carried 
 it through for him, in the flesh.
 
 COME YE WHO ARE WEARY 71 
 
 Jimmy looked up to see Sidney come out of the 
 red brick house, accompanied by his mother. She 
 followed him to the top of the steps, where she 
 stood, one hand lying upon his shoulder as if she 
 was reluctant to let him go so soon. And Jimmy 
 continued to look, his wistfulness gone, as Sidney 
 ran down the steps and started across the street. 
 Just before his cousin reached the Latham veranda, 
 before the throng had fairly opened to envelop him, 
 without stopping to reason why, the boy wheeled 
 abruptly away. 
 
 But their voices reached him ; he was so close that 
 that was inevitable. And he knew that Evelyn 
 Latham was smiling her calm, cool smile and stretch 
 ing out a slim hand in greeting. Evidently the gossip 
 which Abel Thompson had chucklingly offered as the 
 true cause of Sidney s sudden return to Warchester 
 had not spread as far as "up on the hill," or if it 
 had, inexplicably it made little difference. Jimmy 
 Gordon turned his back; he did not want to see. 
 Real bitterness was his at that moment. 
 
 The chance which kept him from retracing his 
 steps, to come at the white cottage by the longer, less 
 brazen route, was trivial in the extreme. A black 
 signboard stood in the middle of the church lawn, 
 shaped like a conventional shield and lettered in gold. 
 "Church of St. Luke The Reverend Watson 
 Duncan, Rector," the inscription read; "Services at 
 10.30 A. M. and 8 P. M." And underneath, in letters
 
 72 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 not so large : "Come Ye Who Are Weary and Heavy 
 Laden, and I Will Give You Rest." 
 
 Jimmy found himself staring at that board, and 
 reading mechanically; and as he read, somehow he 
 managed his slightly crooked smile again. His step 
 had lost its briskness when he started on, but he did 
 not cross the street to avoid passing the Latham 
 veranda. And if his face was made hot by a girl s 
 overloud question, it whitened the next instant as 
 he overheard his cousin s reply. He had forgotten 
 to carry his bandaged hand out of sight; going up 
 the front steps of the cottage he stumbled blindly 
 and barely kept from falling. When he recovered 
 himself and reached for the door-knob he found 
 the door already open before him. His mother 
 stood upon the threshold waiting for him. 
 
 She was one of those heavy people whose languid 
 air is less an indication of actual invalidism than a 
 combination of pathetic resignation (assumed) to 
 the will of the Lord, and a constant readiness to 
 combat every argument which might challenge her 
 fragility. Jimmy Gordon blinked at the suddenness 
 of the encounter and stepped back a pace or two. 
 Until that moment the boy had given no thought to 
 this particular phase of his home-coming; he had 
 neglected even to rehearse a politic and off-hand 
 sentence or two, with which to break the news of 
 his return, and for a breath he stood nonplussed. 
 Then his manner became as professionally brisk and
 
 COME YE WHO ARE WEARY 73 
 
 reassuringly jaunty as that of the nerve-specialist 
 who was in weekly attendance. 
 
 "Hello, mother," he said. "A bad penny! Here 
 I am back home, you see." 
 
 It was often remarked how much Mrs. Watson 
 Duncan, nee Mathilda Banks, looked like her 
 brother, T. Elihu, a bit of flattery that never missed 
 fire. Now, as she moved doubtfully to one side and 
 made room for Jimmy to enter, the resemblance was 
 actual and astonishing. Her voice had been trained 
 to its tired, colorless monotone. 
 
 "I see." She ignored her son s obvious witticism, 
 and swept his dusty length with a single glance. "I 
 saw you coming. Step inside before the whole 
 neighborhood gets sight of you."
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 A CREATURE OF THE BURLESQUE 
 
 JIMMY S room, that one which luckily over 
 looked the Latham grounds and the broad 
 veranda, had not been opened since his 
 departure. Of this an acrid odor of dust in the 
 wave of hot and stagnant air which met him as he 
 swung open the door was proof in itself; and an 
 additional feathery accumulation upon the furniture 
 gave it the desolate atmosphere of an apartment 
 long closed against the expectation of occupancy. 
 
 Nothing had been changed or moved, and yet the 
 boy hesitated upon the threshold, pondering a sense 
 of strangeness which even his typewriter upon a 
 plain board table, failed to lessen. And this ancient 
 and decrepid machine was indeed an old, old friend. 
 Acquired by the painfully exacting dollar-down and 
 dollar-every-so-often route, its very failings had 
 warmed him to it from the beginning; and once he 
 had learned to humor its large disregard for 
 accuracy in the matters of spacing and alignment, 
 he had ventured to take it, little by little, into his 
 confidence, until in the end it had become vested 
 with a kindred personality which not only under- 
 
 74
 
 A CREATURE OF THE BURLESQUE 75 
 
 stood but sympathized as well with his rather widely 
 misunderstood aims and views. 
 
 It was his custom to bestow upon the keys an 
 intimate pat or two, whenever he entered his room 
 or left it a sort of ritualistic salute but now, after 
 one glance, he avoided it studiously, just as he 
 refused to meet squarely the dazed, bruised look in 
 his own eyes, when he turned instead to the mirror 
 of a scaly "dresser" and gave himself over to minute 
 self-consideration. 
 
 For a time, from the dubious droop of his mouth, 
 it might have been thought that he was finding 
 something of amusement in the latter process. Then 
 the expression underwent a change, for though the 
 glass revealed only a portion of his person, this 
 fractional revelation, finally accepted as a true 
 reflection of his entire length, was sufficient cause 
 for alarm. He shook his head, a bit ruefully, a little 
 with regret, over the drepressing state of his one suit 
 of clothes, but after he had removed the coat, 
 brushed it mechanically with his hand and hung it 
 over a chair-back with habitual care, abruptly all 
 idea of an immediate cleansing of himself and his 
 habiliments was abandoned. He wheeled, gropingly 
 found the bed and stretched his thin length flat 
 upon it. 
 
 Persistently, for a while, he kept his eyes closed; 
 he feigned sleep, thinking to trick himself into 
 slumber. But his muscles twitched from exhaustion ;
 
 76 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 excessive weariness kept him awake; and his brain, 
 refusing to rest, raced like an engine released of its 
 load. Unmindful of the heat at first, he blamed his 
 wakefulness at length upon the closeness of the 
 room. He rose and opened a window, only to find 
 sleep as much an impossibility as before, though a 
 tingling sensation, not unpleasant, crept over his 
 body, while he drifted into a state of semiconscious- 
 ness filled with the roar of wheels. 
 
 And out of that roaring, as if from a great 
 distance, there came to him a peal of laughter, low 
 and cool and deliberately mocking. He lay with a 
 smile hovering upon his lips, still hearing it after it 
 had ceased, counting it only a dream-echo, until a 
 continuous murmur, becoming distinct and real of a 
 sudden, startled him half-upright. Waking at the 
 ends of the earth Jimmy Gordon would have 
 recognized that voice ; without a thought of playing 
 the eavesdropper, his chin propped upon one elbow, 
 breathlessly he strained to listen. 
 
 "But, my dear boy," he heard Evelyn Latham 
 protest, with the slightest suggestion of that blase 
 drawl which was alike the envy and despair of 
 initiative girl friends a my dear boy! You are too 
 absurd even to suggest such a thing, now. I don t 
 believe anything, or anybody, could persuade Lloyd 
 to give up the part." 
 
 A landscape gardener had located a rustic bench 
 in the shade of a stubby tree beyond Jimmy s window.
 
 A CREATURE OF THE BURLESQUE 77 
 
 Here, now and again, the daughter of the house 
 came to sit for a while, prettily busied with a pink- 
 padded sewing-basket filled with a tangle of silks. 
 Such hours the boy treasured, because he had been 
 forced to share them with no one; but they were 
 week-day occurrences without exception. From 
 behind his closed shutters he had noted that the 
 Sunday group upon the Latham veranda always 
 showed an uneasy propensity to disintegrate into 
 sets of two, once the wicker service-table was 
 ravished. 
 
 He heard his cousin Sidney snort. 
 
 "Who in the world ever picked him for a leading 
 man?" Sidney s request for information, while 
 couched in the form of a question, aimed at the 
 rhetorical, expressing as it did a supreme and 
 sweeping contempt for the ability of Mr. Jameson, 
 the gentleman under discussion. "Where did he 
 ever get the idea he could act!" 
 
 Adroitly she skirted the edge of argument. 
 
 "Of course his bearing is hardly impressive or 
 commanding." Jimmy heard Sidney hoot, but the 
 rich voice, grown musing and judicial, refused to be 
 disconcerted by this derisive interruption. "But 
 but as far as his acting goes " Again she laughed, 
 this time with sweet amusement "Well, there is a 
 scene or two in which I have been forced to ask him 
 to restrain his passion for realism, at least in 
 rehearsal. He takes it all very seriously."
 
 7 8 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 In spite of a quick tightening of his throat Jimmy 
 wished that he could see Sidney s face. The latter 
 seemed to have no answer ready, but he was not 
 allowed to remain long sulky or rebellious. 
 
 "If only you weren t so unreasonably stubborn, I 
 know you could do more with him." Evelyn s voice 
 Indicated that she was leaning forward in one of her 
 rare attitudes of appeal. "And then, there are so 
 many other details in which you could set us right. 
 We haven t anyone here in Warchester competent 
 to coach us that is, anybody upon whom we d care 
 to call because we do want the performance to 
 make its strongest appeal to a cultured audience. 
 And everybody knows how familiar you are with the 
 metropolitan stage." 
 
 Jimmy permitted himself the luxury of a grin, but 
 Sidney s reply promptly straightened his lips. It 
 became evident that he had put the wrong construc 
 tion upon that last sentence, for Sidney s tone 
 straightway grew mollified and thoroughly compla 
 cent. 
 
 "Of course I have had the opportunity to see how 
 some of the big fellows do it," he admitted. "And, 
 besides, it would be too late for me to to get up 
 in the part. But I warn you that we are a tyrannical 
 lot. We have to see that the identity of the individual 
 is completely submerged in the character to be er 
 portrayed." 
 
 This may have been offered as an objection,
 
 A CREATURE OF THE BURLESQUE 79 
 
 perhaps insurmountable, but it had a very different 
 effect upon Evelyn. 
 
 "There!" said she. "That s exactly what I ve 
 tried to impress upon Lloyd ! It s nothing less than 
 providential that you ve had to come home for a 
 rest, though I m afraid I m not half as sympathetic 
 as I should be, now that you ve promised to take us 
 in hand. You ll find us terribly amateurish t e r r i - 
 bly stiff. But you won t be too harsh with us at first, 
 will you too critical? I m afraid I leave much to 
 be desired myself, in my own role." 
 
 Jimmy did not need to see the look with which 
 Sidney dismissed both entreaty and confession, in 
 order to know what it was like. A certain softness 
 in his answer painted it perfectly. 
 
 "You know I won t. The part for which you 
 are cast is a little bit hazy in my mind just now you 
 mustn t let me forget to take a copy of the script 
 home with me, so that I can brush up on it before 
 to-morrow but if I remember its essential charac 
 teristics correctly, it seems to me you are quite the 
 type for it quite the type ! Beyond that it is entirely 
 a matter of confidence merely a question of true 
 conception and interpretation." 
 
 "O dear ! How dismayingly technical ! But I am 
 glad you re here, just the same." And her simulance 
 of dismay promptly gave way to a silence so pro 
 longed that the boy whose elbow was fast growing 
 numb thought that they must have risen and moved
 
 8o HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 away. But she had merely paused to dwell upon 
 another perplexity, for which she presently found 
 words. 
 
 "There is another thing about which I have been 
 uncertain," the cool voice said, absently. "I ve been 
 wondering but I know you can advise me what to 
 do. Don t you think that we should ask your cousin 
 . Mr. Gordon, isn t it? to help us, too?" 
 
 Jimmy s face went white as the pillow behind it. 
 The incredible suggestion hit him like a blow in the 
 dark. Blinking he swung himself erect until his feet 
 touched the floor, brushing his eyes with the back of 
 one hand, his odd, singularly bewildered gesture, to 
 make sure that he was awake. 
 
 The first choking exclamation with which Sidney 
 greeted the preposterous proposition was inaudible. 
 Jimmy heard his second breathless "What !" And he 
 marvelled then at the girl s naive composure before 
 a monosyllable so explosively eloquent. 
 
 "Then you don t think it necessary. I wasn t quite 
 sure. It s a church charity, you know and out of 
 deference to Mr. Duncan " 
 
 The explanation was left unfinished. Most un- 
 gallantly Sidney s loud laughter cut it short. 
 
 "Necessary ! You haven t spoken to the Reverend 
 Watson about it, have you?" he asked. 
 
 Miss Latham s reply was brief and chill. Sidney 
 tried hard to master his mirth. 
 
 "Then don t, my dear," he chuckled. "Take the
 
 A CREATURE OF THE BURLESQUE 81 
 
 advice of a member of the family and don t!" 
 
 "But he must be more or less familiar with the 
 theater," the girl argued. "I no one ever seems 
 to mention the Palace Theater, without bringing his 
 name up, in connection with it." 
 
 Suddenly the boy on the edge of the bed no longer 
 strained to hear. His tensed body slackened per 
 ceptibly, and he had started for the window when 
 Sidney s voice rose again, strong and stern, beneath 
 It. 
 
 "The kind of knowledge he has of the theater 
 shouldn t be mentioned in your presence, nor the 
 Palace Theater bunch from which he acquired it. 
 It was very fine of you to think of asking him. I 
 understand thoroughly why you spoke of it, and I 
 like to think you are like that fine and gracious and 
 kind. But in his case it s out of the question 
 absolutely. I wouldn t permit it, even if the Rev 
 erend Watson did. And if the Governor found his 
 name upon the program he d ruin your perfectly 
 good charity, right on the spot." 
 
 She accepted the ultimatum with pretty humility. 
 
 "Oh!" Her words were faintly shocked. "Oh! 
 I didn t know I only thought . . . Then he really 
 is as wicked as people say he is?" 
 
 But Sidney scented a loss of that glamour with 
 which, by vague allusion and vaguer protests of 
 innocence, he had painstakingly surrounded himself,
 
 82 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 in the last half hour or so. His manner turned 
 patronizing. 
 
 "There is a difference between sheer vulgarity," 
 he said profoundly, "and what you call er wick 
 edness." He paused to sigh, self-deprecatingly. "I 
 suppose I should be the last to cast a stone. Loneli 
 ness can drive a man to a lot of fool things, simply 
 for the sake of diversion things which he usually 
 regrets afterward. And then, one has to keep up 
 the pace in New York, you know, or drop out of the 
 procession entirely. Poor old cousin Jimmy ! He has 
 stirred up a lot of unfavorable publicity, hasn t he? 
 But, strictly entre nous, I think it s all a beautiful 
 joke. Jimmy s inclinations doubtless are vicious, but 
 he s too shiftless and lazy to be out-and-out bad. 
 Usually, whenever I see him, which isn t often of 
 course, he looks as if he was walking in his sleep." 
 
 Jimmy s face went from pale to scarlet. His 
 eyelids stopped blinking and remained momentarily 
 closed. And when they moved again and lifted, a 
 stir upon the veranda of the red brick house across 
 the street arrested his hand upon the window sash. 
 His step-father made his appearance at that instant, 
 followed closely by T. Elihu Banks himself. And 
 both men stood for a moment at the head of the 
 steps, pursuing a discussion in which, plainly, the 
 smaller man had been playing the part of a deeply 
 impressed and accordant listener. 
 
 T. Elihu seemed to be summing up, and expending
 
 A CREATURE OF THE BURLESQUE 83 
 
 considerable emphasis in so doing, that there might 
 be no excuse for later misconstruction or laxity. And 
 the reverend gentleman looked a little pale. But 
 when he ran down the steps and crossed the road with 
 his customary briskness, a modish and dapper figure 
 of which his parish had reason to be proud, there 
 was nothing in his bearing to betray his inner turmoil. 
 
 Catching sight of the two young people on the 
 rustic bench, he lifted a haughtily admonitory fore 
 finger and shook it, all in his best ecclesiastical air. 
 More than anything else he suggested a benevolent 
 old rabbit, scuttling along home; but once he had 
 left the stubby shade tree and the pair upon the bench 
 behind him, his expression underwent an alteration 
 violent indeed. The Reverend Watson Duncan s 
 face became shockingly congested with rage. 
 
 Jimmy forgot to close the window. Presentient 
 and pessimistic he crossed and opened the door of 
 his room a crack. He heard the front door slam, 
 and his step-father s pelting step and wheezing 
 breath. Then there rose from the floor below an 
 echo of T. Elihu s vehement discourse. 
 
 "I tell you, Madame, that this is the end!" 
 Swayed as he was by the storm of fury which broke 
 without one prefacing mutter, the Reverend Watson 
 Duncan managed to preserve his perfectly rounded 
 enunciation out of the wreckage of his self-control. 
 "I have endured his sullen obstinacy, his vagabon 
 dage, his love of loose associates, with all the
 
 84 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 Christian fortitude of which I am capable, because 
 he is your son. But there is a limit at which even 
 my forbearance must cease, and that limit has been 
 reached to-day 1" 
 
 A sofa creaked in the darkened front room down 
 stairs. Mrs. Duncan was rising, with an indetermin 
 ate sound which might have been either a syllable 
 of resignation or a word of self-pitying inquiry. The 
 dapper little man, however, gave it slight heed. He 
 had stopped for breath. 
 
 "Not content with instigating a dog-fight within 
 one hour after his return, for the bestial amusement 
 of himself and a gutter negro not content with such 
 Sabbath desecration! he openly, flagrantly, 
 defiantly turned his back upon me and the two 
 gentlemen with whom I was at that moment 
 discussing a campaign against this city s depravity, 
 to swagger into the worst sink of iniquity in town. 
 Openly, Madame, flagrantly! Do you hear me? 
 In broad daylight!" 
 
 Again there arose the sigh, less indeterminate this 
 time and sibilant, and flutteringly like a moan. Again 
 Mr. Duncan ignored it. 
 
 And so I warn you," he swept on, with an access 
 of passion, "that my charity is exhausted. This is 
 to be a righteous city. When men whose entire lives 
 have been devoted to commerce are made to pause 
 aghast at the boldness of immorality and crime, it 
 means a social protest an administrative upheaval
 
 A CREATURE OF THE BURLESQUE 85 
 
 which will lay bare every rotten spot to the sun. 
 I have pleaded and I have prayed, for even an 
 eleventh hour regeneration. Now it is too late. I 
 have pledged myself to a righteous cause, and once 
 I set my shoulder to the wheel I neither waken nor 
 falter. My civic housecleaning shall begin at 
 home!" 
 
 The crash of a shade flying up on a roller 
 punctuated this climax. Delayed momentarily by the 
 very volume of her husband s tirade, Mrs. Duncan s 
 usual hysteria was overdue, when Jimmy stepped into 
 the room. The reverend gentleman s faculties were 
 so disordered that he had no immediate perception 
 of his step-son s presence, but some sound of his 
 coming had reached his mother, for she wheeled and 
 showed a panic face as he laid a hand upon her arm. 
 And out of tumult there came a silence, dreadful 
 and dismayed upon the part of Mrs. Duncan. 
 
 The boy wet his lips with the tip of his tongue 
 and smiled, mildly. 
 
 "You d better go to your room, mother," he said, 
 "before your headache grows worse." 
 
 For the infinitesimal part of a second she was 
 incapable of motion. Then she turned and left the 
 the room, too astounded by a note of compassion in 
 her son s voice and a kind of apologetic authority 
 in his manner to wonder at the strangeness of her 
 obedience. Jimmy followed her across the threshold. 
 And the Reverend Watson Duncan was left standing
 
 j86 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 alone, with his mouth inelegantly open. He had 
 hardly begun to recover from the shock when Jimmy 
 reached the back door. From that point, however, 
 his recovery was practically instantaneous. He leaped 
 to follow ; he tore open the door which the boy had 
 closed quietly behind him. And his forefinger, 
 playful no longer, shook jerkily at his stepson s back, 
 already disappearing down a beaten path which led 
 away through an orchard behind the house. 
 
 The little man was no longer dapper. His inner, 
 mental state had wrought a visible, exterior dishevel- 
 ment. And the sonorous accent, won by years of 
 assiduous cultivation, went down before a burst of 
 outraged pride. 
 
 "If you go now, to consort with that creature of 
 the burlesque," he shrilled, "you go to stay! Do 
 you hear me?" 
 
 The boy gave no sign that the threat had 
 overtaken him, though such a contingency was 
 unthinkable. Mr. Duncan s speech thereupon lost 
 coherence, until it was no longer intelligible, but 
 merely very, very loud. 
 
 Mrs. Duncan had delayed on the way to her 
 room, and been drawn back, inevitably. Now she 
 laid a restraining hand upon her husband s arm; and 
 her remonstration, while agitated, was anything but 
 vociferous. 
 
 "S-s-s-h!" she admonished. "S-s-s-s-h, Watson! He
 
 87 
 
 hears! Don t shout sol Do you want the whole 
 neighborhood to hear, too?" 
 
 This had a marked effect upon Mr. Duncan. He 
 swept the adjoining grounds with a startled look, 
 straightened his garments with shaking fingers, and 
 slipped noiselessly inside. 
 
 And Jimmy Gordon went steadily on, without a 
 backward look. He had traversed the orchard, 
 negotiated a crazy barbed-wire fence without damage 
 to his blue serge, and crossed a decidedly discouraged 
 garden plot before he was struck with the riddle in 
 his step-father s speeding words. 
 
 " That creature of the burlesque 1" The mean 
 ing of the words was simple enough to get at; it was 
 only their seeming lack of relevance which bothered. 
 Jimmy stood repeating them aloud, trying to make 
 of them a single piece with his present destination. 
 And failing utterly, he was still frowning when he 
 rounded the corner of a dingy house which fronted 
 an unpaved, back street and stopped again, this time 
 before an open door. 
 
 He had come perhaps three or four hundred yards 
 (the difference in mean elevation was slight, but this 
 locality was not, colloquially, "up on the hill." 
 
 And here he stopped puzzling. Beyond the door, 
 back toward him, stood a slender bronze-haired girl 
 in a mad little costume of black, a slender figure 
 which would have been unrecognizable, had it not 
 been for the familiar tilt of her head. First of all
 
 88 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 Jimmy recalled the conversation which he had over 
 heard between Evelyn Latham and his cousin 
 Sidney, but his brain, tired as it was, picked the flaw 
 in such a deduction. Amateur theatricals, especially 
 those planned for a cultured Warchester audience, 
 were not likely to call for that black bodice which 
 revealed the childish curve of shoulder and breast, 
 not the puffy, fluffy skirt of black chiffon, ending 
 above the knees, nor so frank a display of sheer black 
 silk hose and tiny slippers. And the other possible 
 explanation had no time in which to suggest itself. 
 
 The girl s head tilted to the other side as she 
 spread the folds of the absurd skirt, preeningly, then 
 nodded with manifest satisfaction; whereupon she 
 laughed softly, hummed a measure as mad as the 
 costume itself, and tripped a dainty step or two, with 
 the grace of a wild thing. 
 
 This movement made room for the boy s reflection 
 in the glass, and she encountered it there. She 
 stiffened. Her eyes grew wide and shining. She 
 stared at it, and turned and stared at him. Then she 
 flew to him and flashed both arms about his neck. 
 
 "Jimmy !" she cried. "Jimmy! And I was afraid 
 you mightn t get back until after I was gone ! I was 
 beginning to think you weren t coming back at all." 
 
 Assuredly there was a welcome here. The girl s 
 immature body quivered her gladness, but the boy s 
 face exhibited little emotion save vague curiosity and 
 a certain distaste for the fuss she was making over
 
 A CREATURE OF THE BURLESQUE 89 
 
 him. He unwound her arms and stood her away 
 from him; she submitted to his scrutiny with a 
 matter-of-fact desire for his approval untinged by 
 self-consciousness ; and at length he nodded his head. 
 The costume spoke for itself. 
 
 "I thought for a moment just for a moment 
 that they had asked you to take part," he said. "Then 
 you re going ?" 
 
 It was an old, old question which needed no ampli 
 fication to be clear. Blissfully the bronze-crowned 
 head bobbed, her eyes searched his for something 
 which they failed to find. Jimmy was too 
 fundamentally honest to feign a sadness such as his 
 cousin Sidney, in a like situation, would have 
 managed instinctively; he was too frankly engrossed 
 with his own thoughts to be glad, just because she was 
 glad. 
 
 "I had to," she answered in a tone not nearly so 
 brilliant. "I had to. It s better than waiting for a 
 chance that might never come. Don t I look pretty?" 
 
 The boy entered the room heavily, crossed on 
 lagging feet and dropped into a chair beside a red 
 plush covered table. For a time he sat gazing 
 vacantly before him, his chin in his hands, oblivious 
 to the growing distress in the girl s eyes. 
 
 "Chorus?" he asked then, abstractedly. 
 
 She nodded. Her voice had become infinitely 
 small and wistful. 
 
 " The Satin Slipper. We play here the beginning
 
 90 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 of next week we re rehearsing now and then a 
 month or so on the road, and then into New York. 
 You re glad, aren t you? Won t you say you are 
 glad? Because I ve never been so happy in all my 
 life !" 
 
 But her tone belied the statement; her eager little 
 face gave it the lie. And the next instant she had 
 darted across the room and dropped to her knees, 
 and buried her head in his lap. 
 
 "Jimmy! Jimmy!" she sobbed. "Oh, I don t 
 want to leave you here alone. Are you going to 
 stay?" 
 
 The boy s face was very white beneath its stain 
 of smoke and cinders. His attitude remained rigidly 
 unchanged. 
 
 "I don t know," he answered vaguely. 
 
 "But you couldn t stand it here, alone," she 
 repeated, with a gasp. "You couldn t stand itl 
 Can t you can t you come?" 
 
 "I don t know." 
 
 From the very dulness of his reiteration she 
 realized that his reply was purely mechanical. She 
 looked up, and finding his pallor haggard, all in a 
 breath her own expression of woe was gone, hidden 
 securely from eyes as bitterly blinded as his. With a 
 little laugh, almost perfect in its simulated content- 
 )ment, she was back upon her feet, dusting the knees 
 of her stockings with one hand. 
 
 "I m a pig!" she accused herself, candidly. "You re
 
 A CREATURE OF THE BURLESQUE 91 
 
 tired; you re hungry that s what s the matter with 
 you. And I ve still an hour almost, before I have to 
 go; I m going to get you something to eat. And 
 you d better wash your face, Jimmy. It s pretty 
 smudgy in spots."
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 "NO MATTER WHAT YOU DO* 
 
 THE Warchester Daily Gazette (pithily termed 
 the "town crier and criterion" in its own 
 advertising matter) was not the only pur 
 veyor of divorce and disaster of which the city could 
 not boast, though it fretted itself but little over the 
 presence of a competitor in the field. Indeed, from 
 Mr. Latham, the proprietor of the Gazette, and 
 Wainwright, the city editor, who wore bone-rimmed 
 spectacles upon a broad black ribbon and a look of 
 large affairs, down to Charlie Rice, the pompadoured 
 expert in the field of sports, whose fingers were yel 
 lowed with cigarettes, they were all not only exceed 
 ingly grateful for the other daily s opposition, but 
 secretly solicitous as well concerning its well-known 
 financial straits and uncertain future existence. 
 
 Every canvas needs its frame; and while, if put 
 to it, doubtless every member of the Gazette staff 
 would have admitted that the Gazette was a superior 
 product of modern, up-to-the-minute journalistic 
 methods worthy of comparison with any sheet in 
 the country, it was still very satisfying to turn, now 
 and then, to contrast it with the Courier. 
 
 Municipal Warchester had ceased some time 
 92
 
 "NO MATTER WHAT YOU DO" 93 
 
 before to boast of the latter paper as an institution, 
 but the Gazete never failed to treat it as a dignified 
 and capable antagonist an attitude not so harsh and 
 far more beneficial, so far as the Gazette was 
 concerned. Many of Wainwright s most brilliant 
 paragraphs were tossed off after a pleasant half-hour 
 spent in perusing an editorial composed in the camp 
 of the enemy; he was fondest of all of heading his 
 own column with a reference to "the opinion of our 
 esteemed and scholarly contemporary, Mr. Landis, 
 who once more attempts to attack a vital, twentieth 
 century problem with a lamentably impractical, mid- 
 Victorian pen." 
 
 Oddly enough, repeated use of this word scholarly 
 had in the end won for the Gazette city editor himself 
 a reputation for sober erudition entirely untempered 
 by ridicule. Hence the broad black ribbon and the 
 bone-rimmed spectacles. But (odder by far) no one 
 had ever stopped to think that the appellation, or 
 accusation, was actually accurate in the case of David 
 Landis. It had been left to the man on the street 
 to pass final judgment upon the Courier s excellence 
 or lack of it, and this had been done and was being 
 done in no definite fashion. The news-stand trade 
 refused to purchase the Courier, except in an 
 extremity, and then only with an aggrieved complaint, 
 because it had not yet succumbed to bankruptcy. 
 
 Some wag had dubbed it "T. Elihu s crown of
 
 94 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 thorns," and the witticism was apt, at that. For the 
 Courier s attacks upon the town s great man, punc 
 tilious in phrase and full of Biblical allusion, occurred 
 with weekly regularity. Since it was a matter of 
 public record that the shabby house on the back 
 street behind the Reverend Watson Duncan s white 
 cottage was so heavily "papered" with mortgages 
 held by T. Elihu that a coat of paint was out of the 
 question, this hammering of T. Elihu was viewed not 
 only as a piece of colossal foolishness, but also as a 
 practice in doubtful good taste. 
 
 Naturally it redounded to T. Elihu s credit. The 
 administration was always fair game, but he was not 
 a public servant, nor had he yet sought that honor. 
 And the wage scale in his foundries was T. Elihu s 
 own affair; his rating in the community proved that 
 he was quite able to take care of his business ventures 
 without the aid of a theoretical old incompetent who 
 could not endure another s success without giving 
 way to envious criticism. And the allegation (the 
 same which the Courier periodically invited him to 
 "disprove") that the Warchester Construction 
 Company derived pernicious profits through the 
 administration s favoritism, was openly derided. The 
 construction company underbid its competitiors 
 because it had unlimited funds at its disposal, and T. 
 Elihu s constructive brain behind it. And who wanted 
 any better pavement than the new one on Front 
 Street, anyway?
 
 "NO MATTER WHAT YOU DO" 95 
 
 As for T. Elihu, he merely laughed good-naturedly; 
 and according to popular opinion the Courier existed 
 only by the grace of his well-known big-heartedness. 
 David Landis alone had reason to know that such 
 laughter was but a surface ripple which obscured 
 dangerous depths, just as he alone realized that the 
 Courier might have been the one to patronize, while 
 the Gazette languished upon the stands, if only he 
 could have laid aside his set of old-fashioned scruples 
 and met opportunity half way when T. Elihu entered 
 the market, ten years before, in search of a suitable 
 advertising medium for his budding greatness. 
 
 Instead, about the time T. Elihu began to spend 
 thought upon a proper site for the red-brick house 
 Landis acquired his first mortgage, calculated to 
 relieve nothing more than a temporary embarrass 
 ment. But somehow the Gazette had begun 
 immediately to cut the ground from under his feet, 
 until, slipping deeper and deeper into debt with 
 each new year, he had finally reached a hopeless 
 maximum. The Courier , however, remained unsub- 
 sidized and, contrary to general belief, free from 
 incumbrance. And its sole owner, who had sacrificed 
 everything to retain it, continued to supply it with 
 involved and tedious editorials aimed at the "party 
 in power, and the power behind the party," without 
 seeming to learn that ridicule is the one deadly 
 battery which all the logic in the world cannot 
 combat.
 
 96 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 He came and went, a huge, white-haired, white- 
 bearded figure, prophet-like and a bit pathetic, 
 though no one took any stock in his prophecy of 
 revelation and retribution to come, or believed that 
 he had any one but himself to blame. Capable of 
 seeing both sides of a question, he was useless as a 
 political henchman. As a newspaperman he left 
 almost as much to be desired. He had been known 
 to omit the most piquant details of a local scandal 
 entirely, simply because the woman s husband had 
 once been his friend. And Tivotson, the Courier s 
 editor and reportorial staff, laid most of his weekly 
 sprees at his superior s door. When well in his cups, 
 Tivotson was wont to complain tearfully that "the 
 boss" would table at any time the newest instalment 
 of testimony in a murder trial, if he wasn t watched, 
 to make room for a lively discussion of a new phase 
 of the Baconian-Shakespearian controversy. 
 
 "Old Dave" Landis had grown old in achieving 
 failure, but he was not envious of T. Elihu Banks, 
 who, willing to help him along the way to fortune, 
 had been forced, willy-nilly, to ruin him. His bearing 
 toward the town s great man could not have been 
 more cheerful, outside his official capacity, had the 
 latter been his benefactor in fact. It was only on 
 rare occasions that he gave way to regret only now 
 and then, when he chanced upon a report chronicling 
 the activities of the younger set and noted that his 
 daughter s name was not in the list headed among
 
 "NO MATTER WHAT YOU DO" 97] 
 
 those present. Now and then, coming upon the girl 
 while she was diligently lengthening a threadbare 
 skirt, or talking softly to herself over a stocking 
 long past redemption, he let himself wonder whether 
 he had chosen wisely, after all. And yet Carol 
 Landis was the one thing closely identified with his 
 own existence, which did not seem to appeal, mutely 
 or otherwise, for commiseration. 
 
 The unpainted house on the back street had grown 
 to look like its owner ; it was sadly down at the heel. 
 The Courier reflected his image flawlessly. But she 
 resembled him not at all. Her smooth skin and 
 coloring had come from her mother, and seeming 
 delicacy, which was even stronger to endure than 
 his big-boned frame. Hers was a more vivid per 
 sonality ; she was alive to her finger-tips as alive as 
 he was dreamy and absent-minded. And, whenever 
 he mentioned the subject, she curled her lips at him 
 and scoffed at the idea of a new dress and chided 
 him for thinking of such extravagance. In no wise 
 hindered from thinking her own thoughts, she sat 
 and listened by the hour to his essays reams and 
 reams of them, which ultimately drove Tivotson to 
 further excesses bobbing her head enthusiastically 
 at intervals over preachments which she scarcely 
 heard and never understood, while he, innocently 
 delighted and temporarily reinstated in his own self- 
 respect, believed that she was hanging breathlessly 
 upon every word. Hungry to act, she proved herself
 
 98 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 daily a consummate artist; she treated him like the 
 veriest Apostle of Success. And his air toward her 
 was so beautiful a mixture of courtly deference and 
 apologetic humility that, oftener than not, it brought 
 desperate hot tears to her eyes tears which she 
 never dared let him see, lest they mar the entire 
 performance. 
 
 And she played the same game with Jimmy 
 Gordon; played it more skilfully, if anything, for 
 Jimmy s eyes were sharper. That Sunday afternoon 
 she left him alone in the front room as if nothing at 
 all was amiss. Her going was followed immediately 
 by a most cheerfully energetic shaking of a grate. To 
 this noise the boy gave no heed, but later he did 
 raise his head and sniff at the penetrating odor of 
 coffee. And he had finished cleansing his hands and 
 face before she spread a frayed napkin upon the 
 kitchen table and placed plate and cup upon it, and 
 sang out for him to come. 
 
 He was wolfishly hungry. Some of the bitterness 
 left his eyes as he accepted the second cup of scalding 
 liquid which she poured and urged upon him though 
 he needed urging little enough in truth. Then she 
 laid aside her apron and drew a chair up close to 
 his. With her hands tucked childishly under her, she 
 sat and watched him eat, but she smothered her 
 impulse to mother him. She kept her eyes from 
 straying to the bandaged hand, which would have 
 been the better for a strip of whiter linen. And
 
 99 
 
 before her matter-of-fact delight in his splendid 
 appetite he slowly began to regain his outward 
 usualness. He showed a faint interest in her mad 
 little costume, and she, waiting for an opportunity to 
 make conversation, seized avidly upon the question 
 in his eyes. 
 
 "The wardrobe woman had more work than she 
 could do," she explained, "so they let me bring mine 
 home to fit it myself. It was too big around the 
 waist." 
 
 Jimmy nodded. She remained quiet for a moment, 
 considering carefully the words which she finally 
 decided to venture. 
 
 "Did you did you try to get to anybody with 
 your play?" she hesitated. 
 
 It was a topic which rarely failed to stir him, no 
 matter how dark his mood, yet his second nod was 
 almost as spiritless as the first. 
 
 "A few hundred I think," he said, wtih a feeble 
 attempt at humor. "I lost count after the first days." 
 
 He paused, and she misunderstood the dulness in 
 his words, and found it hard to answer. 
 
 "I tried all the little ones first," he went on, "and 
 never got past the office boy. They were all too busy, 
 and I don t suppose I looked like a walking adver 
 tisement of prosperity, either. And then I tried 
 Harding and he saw me. He gave me a half-hour, 
 and told me to come back in a week, after he had 
 had a chance to read the stuff over."
 
 (loo HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 At that she leaned forward, her hands going 
 impulsively to his knees. 
 
 "Not Harding!" she breathed. "When all the 
 rest refused you? Tell me, Jimmy, what does he 
 look like?" 
 
 The boy smiled a little over her very feminine 
 query and cast about for a suitable means of com 
 parison. 
 
 "More like a country minister than anything else," 
 he said at last. "Sort of tired-looking and dis 
 couraged. And his clothes were in almost as bad 
 condition as my own. They looked as though they d 
 never been pressed." Before the glow in her eyes 
 he did his best to maintain a manner of indifference. 
 "He read the play, and offered to buy the first act 
 climax." (Her gasp checked him momentarily.) 
 "The rest was rubbish, he said. But he advised me 
 not to sell. He said time might cure me of the 
 besetting sin of all playwrights some day I 
 wouldn t be so young and tragic if I didn t starve 
 to death." 
 
 "And you re not going to?" she asked quickly. 
 
 Again his peculiarly crooked grin. 
 
 "Sell or starve? I took his advice and refused his 
 offer. But the second possibility doesn t seem so 
 remote, at that, just at present. May I have some 
 more coffee, Carol?" 
 
 She sprang up and brought it to him with an 
 immediacy so fervid that it was not unlike a caress.
 
 "NO MATTER WHAT YOU DO" 101 
 
 And she stood over him then, contemplating his face 
 so steadfastly that he was constrained to laugh, at 
 length, self-consciously. 
 
 "No one will ever know, Carol," he said, "how 
 many times you have saved my life in just such a 
 fashion as this until I tell them." 
 
 But her small face remained grave. 
 
 "You ve had trouble again at home," she accused 
 him. "Worse than usual?" 
 
 He nodded rather blithely. 
 
 "Worse than usual," he admitted. 
 
 "Over me?" 
 
 He protested too volubly, so that even his detailed 
 account of the dog fight, meant to be gay and inconse 
 quential, failed to deceive her. 
 
 "I know," she insisted, with a calm stubbornness 
 that she had inherited from her father. "I know!" 
 She leaned nearer, her face filled with a strangely 
 vehement tenderness. "Then you were going to 
 stay! You want to stay. Jimmy, are you sure you 
 really care for her, so very, very much?" 
 
 The boy s face flamed guiltily. His stiff gesture 
 was so restrainedly violent that she removed her 
 tightened fingers from his shoulders and stepped 
 back from him. But she clung to the topic. 
 
 "You think you do," she persisted. "And you 
 think that s what s holding you here. But it isn t, 
 Jimmy." It was her turn to lift a hand and cut him 
 short as he started to interrupt. "Oh, I know I
 
 102 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 understand! They ve treated you worse than they 
 have me, and haven t I told myself, a thousand times, 
 that some day I d make them proud to know me? 
 Don t you suppose. that I notice how careful they 
 are not to see me on the street, now that I ve started 
 rehearsals? It s because they re all against you that 
 you refuse to give up. But I wish you d go. You 
 can get along somehow; it couldn t be any harder 
 anywhere than it is for you here. I wish you d go 
 before they drive you out or before they drive you 
 to something worse." 
 
 Her voice had grown husky ; she turned away from 
 him to hide the look upon her face. In the silence 
 that followed neither of them heard the steps of him 
 who had come, without knocking, into the front 
 room. And when the girl s head flashed up again, 
 Sidney Banks was standing in the doorway. Too 
 startled to speak at first, she stood staring at him. 
 And then, her cheeks scarlet under the unconcealed 
 relish in his regard, abruptly she dropped to her 
 knees. The puffy black skirt mushroomed about her 
 on the floor. 
 
 Sidney chuckled softly his approval of this move 
 an obvious challenge. Still chuckling, he advanced 
 farther into the room, without the formality of 
 removing his hat, until he stood above the little, 
 kneeling figure, too happily diverted to notice the boy 
 at the table, whose head had shot up at the sound. 
 
 "What a timid, small person it is!" he laughed.
 
 "NO MATTER WHAT YOU DO" 103 
 
 And he bent over and was trying to lift her erect, 
 when a hand dropped upon his elbow, checking both 
 his intention and the girl s fierce effort to be free. 
 
 Instantly Sidney s expression, meant to be that of 
 a man wise in just such little affairs, suffered a 
 remarkable change. It evinced more than a hint of 
 dismay, and, save for the negligible movement neces 
 sary to release the girl s arms, he stood utterly 
 motionless, like one who, doubtless regretting an 
 unfortunate precipitancy, still hopes to forestall 
 open violence. David Landis was a big man. 
 
 Then bit by bit his head came around. And then, 
 meeting the gaze of the sorry figure in blue serge, he 
 was able to laugh again, shakily, albeit with much 
 relief. 
 
 "Greetings, cousin mine," he exclaimed over a 
 deep breath. "But why the hostile mien?" 
 
 Jimmy Gordon s eyelids were blinking with 
 amazing rapidity. 
 
 "Let her alone," he said sullenly. 
 
 Sidney s eyebrows lifted. His return to equanimity 
 was complete. 
 
 "And why, pray tell me," he asked "why 
 shouldn t I assist a young lady to her feet if I so 
 choose?" 
 
 He turned to Carol Landis. This time the ban 
 daged hand rested more heavily upon his coat sleeve. 
 
 "Let her alone." 
 
 Jimmy s voice was hoarsely expressionless, for he
 
 io 4 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 made no effort to equal or outdo his cousin s airiness, 
 but again it made the latter pause. 
 
 "Can t you see she doesn t want you to see her 
 dressed like that?" 
 
 Sidney s head went back and he gave way to 
 immoderate laughter. He was immensely amused. 
 
 "A member of the Palace Theater chorus," he 
 murmured, "and yet sensitive over the matter of 
 abbreviated draperies. Cousin James, your argument 
 is sadly lacking in logic." 
 
 Suddenly the girl s lips began to quiver. Her head 
 drooped over until the hot resentment in her eyes 
 was hidden. Jimmy groped and touched her shoulder 
 clumsily. 
 
 "This isn t the Palace Theater," he explained, 
 with seeming weary mildness. "She doesn t want 
 you to see her dressed like that." 
 
 With that monotonous reiteration Sidney found 
 the situation grown awkward once more. He had 
 never before seen his cousin s chronically colorless 
 face so peculiarly white. And though it was his 
 opinion, but lately voiced, that Jimmy was too 
 lackadaisical to be dangerous, he accepted discretion 
 as the better part of valor. 
 
 "A truly crushing retort, my knight in buckram," 
 he said, and he paid mock homage to the girl with 
 a flourish. "My mistake my deepest apologies. 
 May I tarry long enough to inquire whether your 
 father is available?"
 
 105 
 
 She lifted a fierce, small face without offering to 
 reply. So Jimmy took that office upon himself. 
 
 "He s not at home just now," he answered; and 
 after a measured pause. "You wouldn t care to wait 
 for him, would you?" 
 
 "Indeed not! Scarcely! Give me credit for a 
 shred of delicacy, at least. I have already intruded 
 too long. When he gets in tell him that the Governor 
 wants to see him ; an urgent matter, I believe. And 
 for the rest, Jimmy, you re more of a devil of a 
 chap than I had believed, up to date. Congratulations 
 and adios!" 
 
 With another low bow he wheeled. They heard 
 him laughing softly as he passed out. After he had 
 gone the girl came slowly to her feet. Jimmy was 
 gazing fixedly at the doorway through which Sidney 
 had disappeared, and she stood watching his face, 
 as if fascinated by what she found therein. When 
 he started slowly to follow, she reached out and 
 restrained him. He was breathing hard. 
 
 "Why why, Jimmy!" she murmured. "You re 
 not really angry? You don t really mind because 
 he " 
 
 He broke in with his oddly violent gesture. 
 
 "I ve already told you just how it would be." His 
 voice sounded thick. "And he s not half as bad as 
 you ll find most of the others. He only tries to be. 
 You ve picked the hardest profession there is, to 
 succeed in and the easiest."
 
 io6 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 The entire accumulation of his slow rage was thus 
 turned upon her, but she bore up under it surprisingly 
 well; she was more than anything unaccountably 
 pleased. For it was the first comment that he had 
 made upon her impending departure. 
 
 "But they they like him, Jimmy," she replied 
 with disarming demureness. "They accept him. 
 Evelyn Latham entertains him, as often as he cares 
 to be entertained. And if he s all right, then it must 
 be so, mustn t it? I guess there s something very 
 wrong about you and me." 
 
 Her resignation was too meek. Jimmy refused to 
 be misled by it refused to go back to the argument 
 which she had picked up as though nothing had 
 happened. He consulted his unreliable timepiece. 
 
 "It s a quarter to eight," he said. "We d better 
 be starting down." 
 
 That statement proved effectual. She ran from 
 the room and came back wrapped to the ankles in an 
 old coat. 
 
 "I was waiting for father," she said. "He s so 
 very prompt usually. He insists on convoying me 
 to and from the theater whenever I have to go after 
 dark, though it s absurd of him to think I need an 
 escort, when I ll soon have to look after myself 
 without any help at all. I think it s because he s 
 already lonely. Sometimes I think I can t go, only 
 I know my staying now would be even harder for 
 him to bear. I wonder why T.Elihuwants to see him ?"
 
 "NO MATTER WHAT YOU DO" 107 
 
 "Politics," replied Jimmy succinctly. "There s 
 something doing; they re lining up for next election." 
 
 "But father doesn t sympathize with Mr. Banks s 
 policies," she objected. At the door she halted 
 uncertainly. Then she got the next words over with 
 as quickly as possible. "It s not necessary for you to 
 come with me either, Jimmy," she said. "If you d 
 rather not walk down with me for any reason I 
 I won t mind. I m not considered a very proper 
 person to be seen with now, you know. You re tired 
 out, too ; and father will be certain to come for me 
 when it is time for the rehearsal to be over." 
 
 Dull color stained Jimmy s face. Without a word, 
 he motioned for her to pass out, turned down the 
 lamp wick and joined her on the ramshackle steps. 
 
 "I was thinking of dropping in at Hanlon s any 
 way," he answered absently. "I might just as well 
 walk along." 
 
 The unenthusiastic and scarcely flattering explana 
 tion drove the resolutely cheerful smile from her lips ; 
 Ibut the next step, when she would have started down 
 the unpaved street, he found her arm and turned 
 Iher instead into the path that led through the orchard 
 and desolate garden patch, past the Reverend 
 Watson Duncan s very back door. At that she stole 
 one glance at his set face and found it difficult to 
 read. After he had helped her through the barbed- 
 wire fence she arrived at the reason for this choice 
 of route without any help from him. The counte-
 
 io8 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 nance which she lifted to his was fairly radiant. 
 
 "I usually go the other way around," she told him. 
 "It s longer, but " 
 
 He flushed guiltily before such shining eyes. 
 
 "We can t stand here talking all night," he 
 interrupted. "It s nearly eight unless you want to 
 be called down by the manager." 
 
 Ungracious as the warning was, she seemed to 
 find it doubly dear because of its very gruffness. 
 More than that, she seized the arm nearest her and 
 hugged it to her impulsively. And she echoed, 
 happily, the remark which Abel Thompson had 
 voiced, some hours earlier, that same day. 
 
 "What a funny boy you are! I m never certain 
 just what is in your mind." She considered that 
 statement and found it inadequate. "Do you believe 
 I would have cared if you hadn t wanted to come? 
 Why, Jimmy, I m never going to care it s never 
 going to make any difference to me no matter what 
 you do."
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 A FORMIDABLE PERSONAGE 
 
 A!^D with that she found it easy to talk about 
 herself and the "career" that lay before her. 
 With her little, high-heeled slippers tucked 
 under her one arm, she hurried to keep pace with 
 his long stride, chattering eagerly, though breath 
 lessly, with every step. And there was no uncertainty, 
 no doubt in a glorious destiny, to mar the perfection 
 of her anticipation. 
 
 "And so, you see, you won t have to worry one bit 
 about me. After living as father and I have had to 
 live, ever since I can remember, one-night stands 
 can t have any terrors for me. It ll be hard, I know 
 how hard it ll be, but I ll get on. . . . Mr. Whitby 
 he s our manager has told me twice that I have 
 done remarkably well. Only yesterday he said that I 
 was wasting my time with a musical show. My voice 
 isn t big enough it ll never amount to much. And 
 this is the day of small leading women, since folks 
 have grown tired of so much tragedy. But it s a 
 start, isn t it, Jimmy? And that s what counts. Who 
 knows ? Maybe Harding will come to me some day, 
 begging me to play the lead in one of your own 
 plays. I shall be very "up stage" about it haven t 
 I picked up a lot of theatrical expressions? No doubt 
 
 109
 
 no HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 I shall insist at first that it is out of the question, 
 until he chances to let slip the fact that the author 
 is an old, old friend of mine a Mr. Gordon, 
 formerly of Warchester. Then, of course, I ll 
 reconsider the proposition. Maybe you ll come to 
 try and persuade me yourself. And we ll go out to 
 dinner a little round table with pink-shaded 
 candles, and no flowers at all to bother. I ll never 
 be very big, I m afraid, but for the first half hour 
 or so I expect you ll be quite uncomfortable and 
 mystified, Jimmy, and a little dismayed at such a 
 formidable personage. And then then I m afraid 
 I won t be able to play-act any longer. I m afraid 
 I shall lean over, when the waiter isn t looking, and 
 __ an d 
 
 The white dresses were gone from the Latham 
 veranda as they passed down Warchester s proudest 
 thoroughfare a little figure in a nondescript cloak, 
 whose tongue raced on with desperate cheerfulness, 
 and a thin one, stooped for want of rest, who tried 
 to smile as he listened. 
 
 He was careful not to raise his eyes to the white 
 cottage that stood near the edge of the Latham 
 grounds. She chattered so continuously that they 
 were passing St. Luke s Church before he knew it. A 
 late couple or two, scurrying to evening service, gave 
 the pair a queer glance or two as they went by. And 
 then, as the notes of a pipe-organ came swelling with 
 rumbling grandeur through the opened vestry door,
 
 A FORMIDABLE PERSONAGE in 
 
 Carol s hand sought his and clung to it with a 
 passionately tight grip. He looked down and found 
 her watching him from brimming eyes. Though he 
 did not know it, she realized, without having to 
 reason it out, that this was to be their last walk 
 together for many and many a year. The boy choir 
 was singing. She sobbed brokenly, aloud: 
 
 "Whatever you decide to do wherever you go 
 you ll let me hear from you, won t you, Jimmy? 
 Promise ! No, don t shake your head. Promise I 
 want to hear you say you will. And I ll be with you, 
 just the same, no matter where I am. Oh, I did 
 want so much to go away cheerfully. I meant to, 
 and here I am crying all over my new costume. But 
 I can write to you. Perhaps I ll be playing some 
 where near you, some day, and you can come and 
 watch me act. Oh, how I hate this town !" 
 
 As long as the boy lived he was never able to 
 remember that moment without a painful tightening 
 of his throat. Without being ashamed of it, he 
 returned the pressure of the warm fingers curled 
 about his own. 
 
 "I ll do my best," he muttered. "I ll be all right. 
 And I didn t mean what I said, back at the house. I 
 know you will always take care of yourself." 
 
 By the time they reached the head of the alley that 
 led past the Palace Theater stage door to Pegleg s 
 Place she had stopped crying; she was even smiling 
 again. He opened the door for her. A tiny piano
 
 ii2 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 back-stage was banging out the same mad little tune 
 to which she had timed her capricious dance steps, 
 before the mirror, an hour before. She stood with 
 her hand on the knob of the door, looking back at 
 him. 
 
 "Do you want to come in and watch?" she asked. 
 "Would they mind? Don t they know you here?" 
 
 Over her shoulder Jimmy nodded to a stage-hand, 
 and he repeated the greeting for the benefit of Abel 
 Thompson as that gentleman of color came hurrying 
 up, importantly bent upon exercising his authority as 
 keeper of the gate. Abel thawed as he became aware 
 of the identity of this cavalier. 
 
 "Evenin , Miss Landis." He made of the saluta 
 tion a ceremonial. "Evenin, Mist Goh don. They 
 done called for the chorus awready, miss. Yuh bet 
 run along." And there he abandoned formality. 
 "Comin in, Jimmy?" he inquired. 
 
 The boy shook his head. 
 
 "I ll wait for you here," he said to the girl. "I ll 
 be here when you come out." 
 
 And he had dropped to the step, his thin face 
 propped in his hands the next moment, without 
 hearing her reply that it was not necessary for him 
 to wait. She stood there, one hand half stretched 
 out toward him, until Abel Thompson repeated his 
 warning. And that was the way she remembered 
 him, through many long years. 
 
 For a time Jimmy managed to keep awake, with
 
 A FORMIDABLE PERSONAGE 113 
 
 no little assistance from the hard stone step and 
 piano within. For a time he heard the strain of that 
 mad tune, repeated with nerve-racking monotony: 
 "If you re going to love me, love me, love me if 
 you re going to love me at all." Then the rhythm 
 became indistinct; the words ill-matched with the 
 music. And he was puzzling mildly at the oddity of 
 an anthem set to syncopation, when he fell asleep. 
 
 His body slept, and his brain, and yet he was 
 conscious of things which transpired about him. He 
 knew when the piano s din ceased entirely; he knew 
 when two men stopped there in the alley in front of 
 him and contemplated his bowed head. One of them 
 spoke his name, compassionately, but he was unable 
 to move or answer. And he was wondering what old 
 David Landis was doing in the company of Pegleg 
 Hanlon, wondering what had brought him to Han- 
 Ion s Hotel, when he felt himself lifted and borne 
 along on strong arms. The owner of those arms 
 limped as he walked, and the uneven motion 
 disturbed his slumber. And then the sun was in his 
 eyes. He woke with a start, and lay blinking at 
 the strong light streaming upon his face from an 
 open window. Pegleg himself was standing beside 
 the bed, grinning down at him like a good-natured 
 satyr. Still blinking, Jimmy looked about him, and 
 the very cleanliness of the room told him where he 
 was. All of Hanlon s rooms were kept spotless. 
 
 "So I didn t dream it, eh?" he began, stretch-
 
 ii 4 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 ing himself luxuriously. "You brought me in?" 
 
 Pegleg shook his huge, shaggy head. 
 
 "I did," he answered. "Carried ye like a 
 blessed infant. And it s little more ye weight than 
 many that s only half grown. Since whin have ye 
 taken to sleepin on the stones?" 
 
 At that question the boy s face grew a little dis 
 turbed. 
 
 "I was waiting to take a lady home," he explained, 
 lugubriously. "Miss Landis but I suppose her 
 father met her?" 
 
 Hanlon seemed to find that query worthy of a 
 little thought. 
 
 "He did, he admitted. And, watching the boy s 
 face keenly : "Ye were awake, thin ? They ve already 
 learned ye to sleep with one av your ears open." 
 
 "Yes, and no." Jimmy s grin was most engagingly 
 disarming. "I did, and I didn t. I thought I heard 
 him, talking, but I wasn t quite certain whether it 
 was a dream or not." He paused while his eyes 
 swung thoughtfully around the room. There was a 
 humorous crook to his lips when he went on. 
 "Pegleg," he asked, "what s the best rate you could 
 make me on a suite such as this your very best 
 for an indefinite period?" 
 
 The Irishman s great head came forward at that. 
 He squinted as though the matter was a serious 
 one. 
 
 "So they ve driven ye out at last, have they?" he
 
 A FORMIDABLE PERSONAGE 115 
 
 growled. "They ve cast ye for-rth to her-rd with 
 your own kind?" 
 
 "They have," admitted Jimmy. "Bag-less and 
 baggage-less. Pegleg, are you purposely avoiding 
 a direct answer to my question?" 
 
 And then Pegleg caught the bruised look in the 
 boy s eyes. 
 
 " Tis meself that s a poor one to be quotin Scrip 
 ture," he rumbled, "and tis an uncharitable thing, 
 anyhow, to inflict it upon ye, on an empty stomach. 
 But, though I fail to remimber the verse, unless I m 
 wor-rse mistaken than usual, there s a Biblical prece 
 dent for your predicament. Did ye mention an 
 indefinite period?" 
 
 "Necessarily so," said the boy. 
 
 "Thin the problem requires deep meditation," 
 
 stated Pegleg. "I ll make my decision in no 
 
 unchristian haste. Some I accept without credentials 
 
 av anny sort whatever, being something av a student 
 
 av human nature; to some not many I suggest 
 
 payment in advance. I have heard unpromising 
 
 tales concerning you, me young and grinnin friend. 
 
 In view of your imminintly respectable connections, 
 
 me confidence is none too str-rong. Now, will ye 
 
 have your breakfast served to ye in bed, or will ye 
 
 rise and come downstairs and eat your dinner like 
 
 respectable folks that sleep o nights?" His scrutiny 
 
 grew shrewd. "I ve a deal to question ye about. 
 
 Maybe a bit av a discussion will remove some av the
 
 n6 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 indefiniteness from your mind. Maybe twill prove 
 fruitful for the both av us, who knows ? Git up, ye 
 institgator av Sabbath riot an unholy conflict. An* 
 pray God, me lad, ye re always able to laugh." 
 
 After he had left the room Jimmy lay pondering 
 his words until the smile became fixed upon his lips. 
 Then he took the surest way of solving the riddle in 
 them: he rose and dressed and joined Pegleg in the 
 public room downstairs. Seated opposite each other 
 at a round table drawn up close to the windows that 
 overlooked the river they ate for a time in silence. 
 And then, abruptly, Pegleg spoke of the matter that 
 was on his mind. 
 
 "Ye re broke, I suppose," he said, with fine 
 candor. "No doubt ye ve squandered yere sustinence 
 in riotous living." 
 
 Jimmy jingled a handful of small coins in his 
 pocket and assumed an injured air. 
 
 U I always knew I d find you out some day, Pegleg," 
 he countered. "You re taking no chance on a guest 
 who may prove unable to pay. But I d have you 
 know that I m at present still a gentleman of some 
 means." 
 
 Pegleg s eyes twinkled. 
 
 "Sur-re, an there was a time whin such means as 
 yours might have been an asset, instead av a disquali 
 fication. Twas once the genteel thing, right here in 
 Warchester, to be poor but proud, though the vogue 
 has come to be of late more or less frowned upon.
 
 A FORMIDABLE PERSONAGE 117 
 
 iTo the divil wit ye and your two-dollar-bill calamity 
 fund that ye have boarded up there in your vest 
 pocket. Ye re broke. Ye never were anything else. 
 The vital issue is are ye too proud to wor-rk ?" 
 
 Jimmy was glancing absently at his watch as he 
 made reply. 
 
 "That depends," he temporized, "on how much 
 the occupation which you have in mind might inter 
 fere with the profession I ve already adopted." 
 
 "Meanin* that ye are still set upon augmentin the 
 present supply av current literachure ?" 
 
 Jimmy sighed his whimsical affirmative. 
 
 "But supposin that the proposition I m about to 
 lay before ye was itself av that nature?" 
 
 Immediately the boy s eyes showed a gleam of 
 comprehension. He recalled several phrases of his 
 stepfather s tirade which had themselves been an 
 echo of T. Elihu s earlier lengthy discourse; he 
 remembered that David Landis had been with Han- 
 Ion, just before the latter lifted him from the stage- 
 door step of the Palace Theater and carried him 
 in to bed. 
 
 "You mean the Courier?" he asked, though the 
 question was needless, for Pegleg s proposition was 
 already quite clear. 
 
 "Ye always were a quick wan to find the kernel in 
 the nut." Pegleg admitted the correctness of the 
 conclusion. "And twould be better than starving 
 in a garret unless ye consider such an attachment
 
 n8 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 beneath the contempt av one av your high aims and 
 ability." 
 
 At that the boy smiled feebly. 
 
 "Don t," he laughed. "Don t be too rough, 
 Pegleg. I m more sensitive than I was before I 
 went away. What duties would the attachment 
 entail?" 
 
 "Gineral utility, av course," Pegleg explained. 
 "Reporter is the customary polite term applied to the 
 same. Office-boy, maybe, now and then ; and editor- 
 in-chief during the Tivotson s unfortunate 
 digressions from the paths av temperance." 
 
 For a moment Jimmy was quiet. 
 
 "Whose idea was it yours?" he murmured then. 
 
 "Mine and that av me esteemed and scholarly con 
 temporary, Dave Landis." Pegleg could no longer 
 ignore the expression upon the other s face. 
 Obviously the boy s heart was not in the conversa 
 tion. u Ye don t seem to be wildly elated at the 
 prospect." 
 
 "It s not that," objected Jimmy quickly. "It s 
 only that I m not certain yet, whether " 
 
 Pegleg dropped his heavily facetious manner. 
 
 "Maybe I ve not elucidated with sufficient clarity," 
 he interrupted; and eyeing the boy s averted face 
 steadily: "What gossip might ye have already heard 
 whispered concerning the comin elections?" he 
 inquired. 
 
 Jimmy blinked. His thin face grew quizzical.
 
 A FORMIDABLE PERSONAGE 119 
 
 "Not much," he laughed, "and what I have heard 
 wasn t spoken in a whisper, either. But from it I 
 gathered that Warchester stood threatened by a 
 great moral and political house-cleaning. In fact, 
 any own roofless state is the outcome of righteous 
 forbearance too long imposed upon. I m the first 
 warning example." 
 
 "Ye heard with accuracy." Suddenly Pegleg 
 rumbled an oath. "By anny chance did your 
 informer confide in ye the names or name av those 
 behind this rebellion av respectability?" 
 
 "Only in a vague way." There was sheer delight 
 in Jimmy s grin. "I was given to understand that 
 this would be a campaign uncontaminated by the 
 vicious practices of party politics." 
 
 "To hell ye were," cried Pegleg joyously. "Be 
 damned to ye, and yere crooked smile. Ye know 
 better. They ll be namin T. Elihu Banks for mayor 
 before the fortnight is out. But do ye think he 
 means to stop at that? Go way wid ye I thought ye 
 had more sense behind yere sleepy eyelids. Right 
 now, I m tellin ye, he s practising a new signature. 
 He s rehearsin T. Elihu Banks, United States 
 Senator, and greatly admirin the flourishes bewhiles. 
 Our imminint townsman is enjoyin visions av 
 Washington, D. C." 
 
 "And you hope to disappoint him, through the 
 columns of the Courier?" asked Jimmy, with mild 
 sarcasm.
 
 120 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 Pegleg s seamed face became stern. 
 
 "We ve weathered one business-man s administra 
 tion av this city s affairs," he pounded on the table 
 "and it was businesslike in truth. Manny s the 
 limousine that goes whizzin up on the hill these days 
 that came from a highly specialized knowledge av 
 how to make two dollars sprout where only wan 
 languished before. We have had some cliver min in 
 our own circle, Jimmy min av which we had reason 
 to be proud. They were in politics for what they 
 could get out av it, frankly and without blushing or 
 trying to assure the populace that they were servin 
 because their country called. And they thought that 
 they knew something about the special-privilege 
 game, until your business-men shamed them for rank 
 amateurs. Twas the most prolific year the bank 
 ruptcy courts had known in manny a season." A 
 great frown creased Pegleg s forehead. "Jimmy, 
 lad," he asked softly, "it s not because your nerve 
 has gone back on you at last is it? Sur-re, T. Elihu 
 Banks is a name to conjure with, and he talks large 
 and frequent. Is it the name av Banks that gives ye 
 pause for thought?" 
 
 "You know better," answered Jimmy. "And 
 you re not trying to tell me, are you, Pegleg, that the 
 news of my affiliation with the Courier would throw 
 him into consternation?" 
 
 A cunning look swept Hanlon s features. 
 
 "More than ye believe," he shot back. "More
 
 A FORMIDABLE PERSONAGE 121 
 
 than ye think. Have ye ever stopped to wonder why 
 ye have always been an aggravation in his sight?" 
 
 "More than once," Jimmy admitted. "It s beyond 
 rne. The answer s too difficult." 
 
 " Unless, perhaps, he realizes that ye ve seen 
 through the sham av him, and that he will never 
 forgive, for twould not be safe. Ye always were 
 too modest, Jimmy ; ye ve never taken yerself serious 
 enough, though God knows, if ye had, ye d been dead 
 by now. And T. Elihu s not finished with ye yet. 
 Mark that! There s Dave Landis, and a dozen 
 others I might mention, whom ye d do well to 
 consider." He shook his shaggy mane. "Ye don t 
 say yes, nor no. Is it because ye hesitate to be 
 identified with a discredited old misfit like Landis, 
 or a pariah such as meself ?" 
 
 For the first time Jimmy s voice held some heat. 
 
 "You know better than to talk like that, Pegleg. 
 Haven t I come and asked you to take me in for a 
 few days?" 
 
 "I brought ye," contradicted the other, sulkily. 
 And then, with a mollified laugh: "Ye are one who 
 knows that Hanlon s Hotel is not guilty av the name 
 which people who would not brush their garments 
 against its door-frame have given it. I m a bit proud 
 av me place, Jimmy. That would shock thim, eh, 
 if they could hear me speak like that? I ve tried to 
 keep it clean and savory, for the use av thim that s 
 not so lucky as some, and they re no more particular
 
 122 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 in the Bay State itself concerning the matter av 
 registry than I am here, though they tell me that lack 
 av baggage calls for paymint in advance. 
 
 "I m askin your pardon for the break, and the 
 room is yours till ye wish to quit it. But I m not 
 hidin my disappointment because ye re not eager for 
 the chance. Somehow I got it into my head that 
 ye d leap at it. This is your own home town, 
 though no man knows ye well would contend that ye 
 have cause to cherish it. Yet there s manny in it 
 would listen to ye, more than ye know, to whom ye ve 
 gave help and money without considering the 
 excellence av the investment. I thought ye might say 
 a word or two to thim, through the colyums av the 
 Courier maybe say a word or two for such as thim 
 that frequents me ill-favored joint. But ye re not ripe 
 for even a consideration av the project. I should 
 have waited, maybe, until " 
 
 "It s not that," interjected Jimmy. "It s only that 
 I m not sure if you want to wait " 
 
 "Take a day or two and think it over," advised 
 Pegleg heartily. "And while I know that the figure 
 is givin ye no trouble, I ll tell ye now that the salary 
 will at least pay for your board and keep. Think it 
 over thin, whin ye get your bearin s. Ye ve only 
 been home two days." 
 
 "I will," said Jimmy soberly. "And I m not half 
 as grateful as I ought to be. Not two days, Pegleg. 
 I got in late yesterday afternoon."
 
 A FORMIDABLE PERSONAGE 123 
 
 "So ye didn t know," he chuckled. "I wondered. 
 To-day s Chuesday, me lad, not Monday. And it 
 was Sunday night I picked ye up sleepin in the allgey 
 Sunday night at twelve. YeVe been dead to the 
 world for thirty-six hours, or thereabouts. Tourin 
 is wearing on the flesh, tis true. Ye should patronize 
 the parlor cars more, me ramblin young friend." 
 
 Jimmy s face became something aghast. 
 
 "Tuesday," he echoed blankly. "You re joking 
 me, Pegleg." And, rising hurriedly as Pegleg s nod 
 corroborated his words, "I ll I ll let you know 
 later. I wish I could say yes, but I m not just sure. 
 .... I don t have to thank you for the room. I ll 
 let you know in the morning." 
 
 With as much haste as Pegleg had ever seen him 
 show, he left the room. Outside, in the alley, he 
 paused long enough for a word with Abel Thompson, 
 who was lounging at perfect ease in the stage- 
 doorway. 
 
 "They done finished with the dress-rehearsal 
 aw ready," Abel answered the boy s question. 
 "Reg lar pufformance scheduled for eight-thutty 
 to-night. Coin be some affair some affair! An , 
 man, ain t at young Mist Banks got a plenty o new 
 ideas? Nevah did have so much responsibility 
 hangin ovah mah head befoh. Flowers fom all nem 
 young ladies ev ything gotta be high-class and 
 genteel round this old show-house to-night. Ev y- 
 body on the jump, till I ain t got time lef to breathe."
 
 i2 4 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 Driven as he was, however, he continued to lounge 
 in the doorway, giving thought to Jimmy s hurried 
 disappearance. 
 
 "Goin somewheres," he concluded profoundly, 
 aloud. "Goin somewheres, at s sure. Must be 
 impohtant, too, f it make him hustle like at." 
 
 And Abel s conclusion was accurate. Working on 
 the theory that unpleasant tasks are best over with as 
 soon as possible, Jimmy made two trips that after 
 noon between the Reverend Watson Duncan s white 
 cottage up on the hill and Hanlon s Hotel. Two trips 
 sufficed nicely to transfer his belongings the 
 typewriter and some few books and an armful of 
 doubtfully serviceable clothes from the room which 
 overlooked the Latham grounds to that one which 
 overlooked the oil-smeared "river." 
 
 No good-bys were indulged in, unless one might 
 so class the long look which the boy gave the bench 
 at the edge of the lawn beneath his window, for Mrs. 
 Duncan was not at home, nor the reverend gentleman 
 who had given the afternoon over to conference with 
 Mr. Banks. On both trips Jimmy was accompanied 
 by the grave and self-possessed Airedale, Oh Boy, 
 who showed an unsual interest in the proceedings; 
 and by six o clock that evening the news had spread 
 through Warchester s choicest residential district and 
 all "downtown" as well. 
 
 Those who dwelt upon the heights remarked that 
 at last Jimmy Gordon had reached his level they
 
 A FORMIDABLE PERSONAGE 125 
 
 I 
 
 remarked it at considerable length, quite as though 
 they had foretold it long before and took personal 
 credit that it had finally come to pass. In other, 
 obscurer, sections it made less of a stir. Indeed, it 
 was discussed with a sort of lightness and a certain 
 degree of pleasure. As Pegleg Hanlon had said, 
 there were those in Warchester who actually sought 
 and valued Jimmy Gordon s society. But the object 
 of this divided comment gave it no heed whatever. 
 He kept to himself throughout the rest of the day; 
 he was occupied with other thoughts. 
 
 It turned cold with the coming of dusk, and the 
 sudden drop in temperature was followed by a 
 rainstorm more befitting November than late in 
 August. An hour before Evelyn Latham s electric 
 coupe was due to arrive, Jimmy had taken his place 
 behind the pile of discarded scenery in the alley, a 
 vantage point settled upon before it grew too dusky 
 to choose. It was dark there in the shadow, but the 
 stage-door, when opened, shed a pool of light upon 
 the swimming pavement, where she would have to 
 pass. 
 
 And waiting, the boy forgot even the rain. Now 
 and then he shivered, but he was wholly content.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 THE SEASON S SMARTEST FUNCTION 
 
 IN commenting upon the affair, characterized in 
 the next morning s edition of the Gazette as 
 "The Season s Smartest Society Function," so 
 miuch space was devoted by Mr. Wainwright to a 
 description of the "glittering, tinseled throng which 
 began to seep into the Palace Theater looby long 
 before eight-thirty, the hour set for the rising of the 
 curtain," that it appears certain Mr. Wainwright 
 must have viewed the influx from a point fully as 
 vantageous as was Jimmy Gordon s, though, it is to 
 hoped, somewhat less exposed. 
 
 For Mr. Wainwright devoted an entire paragraph 
 to the foregathering of Warchester s best people 
 to the "staccato racket of motor cars and the sedate 
 simplicity of the equipages of our older families." 
 And while Jimmy s thoughts concerning the weather 
 were less than negligible, since he gave it no thought 
 at all, Mr. Wainwright, though conscious of the 
 downpour, happily ignored its drawbacks and found 
 in it added color for his pen. 
 
 "The broad sweep of pavement, glistening and 
 sleek and mirror-like with rain, reflecting the myriad 
 
 126
 
 SEASON S SMARTEST FUNCTION 127 
 
 lights of Main Street in blurred pools of brilliance, 
 clicking to the passage of dainty slippers, which 
 flashed from beneath high-swung draperies." . . . 
 Indeed, it afforded the editor of the Gazette an 
 opportunity to indulge his widely admired faculty for 
 poetic phrasing, all too seldom called into play by 
 the humdrum chronicling of duller daily news. And 
 he indulged it to a glorification of the last muddy 
 puddle before the Palace Theater curb, quite as 
 though the puddle itself was a part of the excellent 
 scheme of management and not the profanity- 
 provoking result of Main Street s defective drainage 
 before he plunged into the body of his report. 
 
 "Last night," he confidently assured the Gazette 
 subscribers, "the old Palace Theater, itself an institu 
 tion of doubtful antecedents and none too savory 
 present-day associations (By the way, when is 
 Warchester to have a theater worthy of the name?) 
 was the scene of an affair which will long stand 
 unmatched for novelty in the social annals of this 
 city. For though such professional productions as 
 have seemed worthy in the eyes of our appreciative 
 though perhaps supercritical theatergoers, have from 
 time to time been accorded a generous hearing, no 
 gathering has ever equaled, either in individual 
 brilliance or cosmopolitan flavor, that which filled the 
 crowded auditorium last night to view the amateur 
 performance enacted by members of our younger set 
 in the interest of a prominent home charity.
 
 128 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 ". . . . Students of dramatic form and expression, 
 members of our local Dramatic League, competent 
 to judge through years of study both of the methods 
 of the moment and a former, perhaps old-fashioned 
 but admittedly more artistic decade, and those of less 
 serious bent, who came merely to be amused, rubbed 
 elbows in pit and proscenium, alike delighted and 
 astounded by the exhibition of histrionic ability 
 which, while hitherto not entirely unsuspected, never 
 theless exceeded their most optimistic expectations. 
 
 "With the verdict of the former," Mr. 
 Wainwright was happy to be able to state, " those 
 whose criticism has proved the bane of more than 
 one metropolitan manager who has entered 
 Warchester hoping to foist an inferior production 
 upon a supposedly provincial audience the Gazette 
 is in entire accord. Never before has a more 
 delicately shaded interpretation of a character s 
 moods been presented than was given by Miss Evelyn 
 Latham, daughter of J. J. Latham, in the leading 
 role. From her first entrance she dominated the 
 stage, not alone because hers was the stellar part 
 about which the action of the piece necessarily 
 revolved, but by grace of the sheer magnetism of 
 her own delightful personality, that paramount 
 dramatic gift without which there is no supremacy 
 upon the stage to-day. 
 
 "Miss Latham can act. No other phrase, no 
 matter how adorned by superlative it might be,
 
 SEASON S SMARTEST FUNCTION 129 
 
 could better express the consensus of opinion heard 
 on all sides during the progress of the production. 
 Her part was exacting in the extreme. It ran the 
 entire gamut of emotions, from lighter moments in 
 which her gay insouciance was ably supplemented by 
 her cool self-certainty and delightfully modulated 
 reading, to moments of tumultuous intensity, in which 
 she literally brought the house forward in its seat by 
 the magic of her art. 
 
 "Miss Latham is a consummate actress. The sure 
 way in which she grappled with the tremendous 
 moment which prefaced the third act curtain proved 
 that beyond argument or doubt. More than all else 
 that scene sent the critical portion of the audience 
 (already mentioned as lovers of the cultured and 
 refined in art) home shaking their heads, a little 
 in wonder, a little in amaze. And while it is not the 
 Gazette s wish to deplore the success of our well- 
 known townsman, Mr. Latham, in matters commer 
 cial, we too shake our heads, not only in wonder, 
 but a little with regret as well. Adversity was ever 
 the lash which has spurred genius on to greater 
 efforts. It is our unreserved opinion that Miss 
 Latham, in other less happy circumstances, would 
 have been one of the premier actresses of our day. 
 
 "But it must not be inferred from this account, 
 devoted perhaps too enthusiastically so far to the 
 personal triumph of the lead, that the rest of her 
 supporting cast was far behind her, either In natural
 
 I 3 o HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 ability or sincerity of effort. Indeed, the opposite is 
 the case. For Miss Bennett, in the part of an 
 ingenuous Miss, was so delicately girlish, and yet so 
 earnest withal, that each moment while she was 
 absent from the picture she was missed. 
 
 ". . . And with those who came to be amused, 
 those who came to be swayed by pathos and bathos 
 alike, the Gazette laughed laughed until its 
 collective sides ached, and also wiped away a 
 surreptitious tear. Mr. Lloyd Jameson, son of our 
 eminent legal authority, has long enjoyed a 
 reputation as the gay Lothario of Warchester s 
 younger set, but it remained for last night to clinch 
 his claim to the title. Time after time the other 
 actors had to hold their lines, while the audience 
 rocked with mirth over his inimitable bits of business, 
 for he gave full rein to his spirit of drollery. And 
 yet more than one bright eye grew dim, more than 
 one feminine heart was thrilled by his impassioned 
 rendition of scenes of greater tenderness. No one 
 who listened could very well blame the leading lady 
 for being swept off her feet, as she was, of course, to 
 achieve the happy ending which, perhaps too arbi 
 trarily, our present-day audiences demand. There 
 were many present who no doubt envied her that 
 scene and forgot temporarily that it was only make- 
 believe. The key-note of Mr. Jameson s performance 
 was its abandonment and spontaneity. 
 
 ". . . Due credit and unlimited thanks is extended
 
 SEASON S SMARTEST FUNCTION 131 
 
 to Mr. Sidney Banks, whose name appears upon the 
 program as the director of the piece. Mr. Banks, 
 whose timely return to Warchester was a bit of great 
 good luck, brought to bear a knowledge of matters 
 theatrical too well-known to call for comment. The 
 demonstration of his knowledge was a distinct 
 pleasure." 
 
 In closing, Mr. Wainwright mentioned again the 
 lights and the swirling throng, "the seemingly endless 
 string of conveyances which whisked away, one by 
 one, the members of the cast who, still in costume and 
 make-up, surrounded the hosts of congratulatory 
 friends, were the center of a colorful picture a 
 picture of hope and youth and romance that made 
 another drama which took place scarcely an hour 
 later, within a stone s throw of the Palace Theater, 
 seem wofully drab and pitifully sordid by contrast. 
 
 "For this drama of viciousness staged behind the 
 scenes of respectability, was enacted as well by the 
 youth of Warchester, its arch-figure being all too well 
 known to the citizenry of this town. A detailed 
 account will be found in another column." 
 
 That concluding paragraph cost Mr. Wainwright 
 more than a little thought and indecision, but the 
 general avidity with which every Gazette reader 
 folded back the sheet the next morning more than 
 vindicated his resolve to run it as first conceived. 
 There was less of verbiage in this second article, less 
 of flowery adornment. Under its introductory black
 
 132 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 type it stretched, a bald, bleak statement of fact. 
 "At an early hour this morning Hanlon s Hotel 
 better known as Pegleg s Place was raided by an 
 efficient squad of Warchester s guardians of law and 
 order. For a long time now proprietors of Hanlon s 
 ilk have been basking in false security, laughing no 
 doubt up their sleeves at competitors too honest to 
 infringe upon the statutes, secure in their confidence 
 of continued immunity. But the time has come when 
 this sort of an affront to public opinion and public 
 morals will not be further tolerated. It has been 
 forced upon the attention of many of. our most 
 inflential and powerful citizens that either the present 
 administration has not the courage to. cope with the 
 forces of depravity and crime, or else (a condition 
 which we would prefer to believe unthinkable) 
 deliberately chooses not to do so, lest it antagonize 
 a class which is not to be scorned at the polls. In 
 either eventuality it is plain, and has long been plain, 
 that there is no halfway possible ; half-hearted 
 measures will not suffice. The columns of the Gazette 
 have already quoted the remarks of Mr. T. E. 
 Banks, our ablest townsman, upon this question. His 
 words were clear and unequivocal. Now, as 
 president of Warchester s new Civic Reform Society, 
 he has begun to back up his words with deeds deeds 
 which can leave no doubt in the minds of all con 
 cerned that his is a fixed and courageous purpose 
 which will brook no opposition.
 
 SEASON S SMARTEST FUNCTION 133 
 
 "Hanlon s was raided last night at twelve-thirty 
 o clock. Twelve o clock has long been prescribed as 
 the closing hour for such places as Hanlon s is known 
 to be. For several weeks Mr. Banks has caused this 
 house and several others of like repute to be subjected 
 to a rigorous system of surveillance, and last night 
 Chief of Police Hendricks, sure finally of his ground, 
 struck a swift and telling blow. Creeping cautiously 
 down the alley which leads past the stage-door of the 
 Palace Theater, the officers made their entrance 
 through the front of the building ready to curb 
 resistance or quell any attempt to warn the inmates. 
 No resistance, however, was encountered. Instead 
 all presented an air of serenity which might have 
 deceived one less versed in the craft of those with 
 whom he had to deal. 
 
 "But Chief Hendricks saw beneath the innocent 
 surface indications and pressed deeper into the build 
 ing. Characteristically reticent, he refused to go 
 into detail concerning the capture of nine men and 
 women, all of undesirable or suspicious character, 
 who fell into his dragnet, or the scene of violence 
 which his arrival surprised. But it is hinted that his 
 appearance checked a disturbance which might have 
 been entered upon the records as a misdemeanor far 
 graver than an infringement against the excise laws 
 or the statutes prohibiting gambling bloodshed at 
 least, and perhaps uglier manslaughter. 
 
 "Three of the women and the five men were given
 
 i 3 4 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 an immediate hearing before Justice Jameson and 
 dealt with according to the discretion of the court. 
 A member of the Palace Theater Burlesque Company 
 a girl who it appears is known by no other name 
 than Melody is being held on bail, supplied by 
 Hanlon, pending further examination, while the 
 police are searching widely for one Whitey Garritty, 
 well known to the police of other cities, whom he also 
 had eluded before running foul of Warchester s 
 force. 
 
 "Out of respect and consideration for a promi 
 nent divine of this community it was our thought to 
 withhold from the list of prisoners given below the 
 name of James Gordon, but the boy s stepfather, the 
 Reverend Watson Duncan, called to the telephone 
 shortly before our going to press, assured us that such 
 was not his desire. 
 
 "I have identified myself with this movement/" 
 were Mr. Duncan s words. "It is a righteous move 
 ment and I mean to go on with it. It will bring no 
 hardship upon the innocent, but those who have 
 sinned must lie in the beds they have themselves 
 prepared. I no longer know any person by the name 
 of James Gordon." 
 
 "The case of young Mr. Gordon (he has not yet 
 reached his majority in years, though his experience 
 is age-old) had not beefi disposed of when this issue 
 went to press, so it is impossible for us to say what 
 disposition was made of it. Toward him, however,
 
 SEASON S SMARTEST FUNCTION 135 
 
 it must be remarked, Justice Jameson dealt with 
 great forbearance and self-restraint, an attitude little 
 merited by Gordon, though much to Mr. Jameson s 
 credit. For the young man in question maintained a 
 sullen silence throughout his examination, refusing 
 to answer the questions which were put to him, or to 
 enter any plea in his own behalf. He stood white 
 and tight-lipped, as stubborn as the most hardened 
 malefactor, and opened his mouth just once. When 
 the girl called Melody, seemingly unable longer to 
 control herself, leaped forward in the midst of the 
 lesson which Justice Jameson was reading Gordon 
 concerning the error of his ways, apparently to 
 interject some defense of this young man whom she 
 appeared to champion with almost possessive 
 ferocity, his studied silence was broken. He threw 
 up a hand with a smile so mild that it bordered on the 
 insolent and checked the girl s misguided though 
 no doubt generous impulse. "Don t!" he ordered 
 her. "What s the use, now?" 
 
 "And these words the Gazette heartily echoes. 
 This boy, kin of many of our best people, heir to 
 countless advantages, has squandered every chance 
 which was his by birth every claim to pity and 
 further consideration. The Gazette echoes his own 
 words: "What s the use, now?" Whatever the 
 course of the law, it cannot be too rigorous in the 
 case of James Gordon." 
 
 And the arch-figure himself, at seven-thirty the
 
 136 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 night before, little realizing how prominently he was 
 to share the public prints with her whose appearance 
 he was awaiting, lay back in the shelter of his heap of 
 discarded scenery, numb to bodily discomfort, cheer 
 fully unaware even of the passage of time until her 
 electric drew up at the curb. 
 
 All other perplexities, some of them pressing, he 
 had put away from him for the time being, just as 
 before then, he had many times put the thought of 
 hunger away from him, since there was no immediate 
 prospect of dining. And when she finally arrived, 
 before the press at the front of the house had 
 become considerable, he, too, noted how the light lay 
 reflected about her feet like pools of phosphores 
 cence. And though his brain was promptly rendered 
 incapable of Wainwright s poetic appreciation of the 
 tinsel and glitter of the costumes, her wrap he dared 
 to reach out and touch as she passed his hiding- 
 place. The brush of that velvet cloak left his arm 
 a-tingle. 
 
 Secure in his intimacy with Abel Thompson, whose 
 own garb that evening would have lent tone to any 
 gathering (it consisted of a dress coat, a lavender 
 waistcoat, light trousers and high brown button 
 boots) , he had put away from him, earlier in the day, 
 the thought of squandering a quarter for a gallery 
 seat, together with the fear that he might have to 
 watch from a seat far removed from her neighbor 
 hood. "Back-stage" had always been open to him
 
 SEASON S SMARTEST FUNCTION 137 
 
 without comment or question, and as expected, Abel 
 passed him into that restricted province, but not 
 without a moment of hesitation, however, for the 
 boy, wet and bedraggled, looked anything bui; 
 prepossessing, even to Abel s ordinarily none too 
 fastidious eye. It called forth a deal of anxiety and 
 a word or two of warning advice. 
 
 "Nobody ain t goin see you in back at ole book 
 case." Abel accompanied his hiding away with an 
 argument meant to quiet his own doubts. "But you 
 bet stick pretty close. Ev thing got look spectable, 
 n if anybody git a look at you they sure goin to 
 blame me." 
 
 Jimmy did not even give way to his crooked grin. 
 The unconscious classification passed over his head, 
 which was indication of his mood at that moment. 
 Instead, he obeyed thankfully, and "stuck close," as 
 he was bidden. And Mr. Wainwright, sitting out in 
 front with his notebook and pencil carefully 
 displayed, was favored by no more perfect view of 
 the stage than was Jimmy when the curtain creaked 
 up. 
 
 Those who had come to weigh the niceties of 
 technique! Those who had come merely to be 
 amused! Theirs was a poor and meager interest 
 compared with the boy s. From that instant when 
 Evelyn Latham made her first appearance, his heart 
 palpitated painfully, quick with worship for that 
 quality which Wainwright named her gay
 
 i 3 8 HIS (OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 insouciance, sick with dread lest she falter and be 
 met with ridicule. 
 
 In other circumstances he might have frowned a 
 little over a certain stiffness of gesture or shaken his 
 head vaguely for a certain lack of warmth. He had 
 absorbed even more than he himself realized from 
 the harassed managers who came to Warchester to 
 try out new productions. But in that hour he found 
 nothing to criticize, or if he did the thought was 
 denied life the moment it was born. 
 
 He saw little of the rest of the action; he heard 
 scarce a line of dialogue other than those which she 
 spoke; and when the first act curtain fell, in spite of 
 Abel s warning, the space behind the bookcase was 
 too small to hold both him and his swelling pride. In 
 concert with a large portion of the male audience out 
 in front, which had risen and was climbing painfully 
 over neighbors knees (Warchester audiences 
 adhered to metropolitan customs, no matter how 
 uncomfortable), he crept from behind his cover, 
 after the actors had run for the dressing-rooms and 
 the scene-shifters hubbub was on, and picked his 
 way into the alley. 
 
 It was still raining, and he sought his earlier 
 shelter, with little thought of what he was doing, 
 however, for his own play, lying beside his typewriter 
 in his room at Hanlon s, was no longer a discarded, 
 or even partially discredited, failure. It had become 
 once more, temporarily, at least, a satisfactory foun-
 
 SEASON S SMARTEST FUNCTION 139 
 
 dation for dreams, and he had flung away one 
 cigarette to hiss out on the flooded pavement, and 
 was puffing a second, when voices near at hand 
 disturbed his deep content voices engaged in a 
 colloquy old in his ears and without interest, save 
 that his instant recognition of both of them left him 
 momentarily incredible. 
 
 "I never was so strong for that joint," he heard 
 the girl called Melody express decidedly her dis 
 approval of a New York cafe under discussion. 
 "Too stiff ! That full-dress regulation never did get 
 by. Give me Henry s every time. Maybe some nights 
 the boys did get rough, along toward morning, but 
 they was always something doing, and nobody ever 
 got hurt real bad. Been to Henry s, haven t you?" 
 
 "Yes-s-s, I think so." Sidney s voice, in reply, 
 lacked that absolute complacency which usually 
 marked it when he discussed Manhattan. "Of course, 
 though, I don t seem quite able to recall " 
 
 The girl cut in with a flattering, meaningful laugh. 
 
 "I get you," she exclaimed. "Most everybody 
 who goes to Henry s ain t quite able to recall that 
 is, not until the morning after. Most of the good 
 Indians I know like Henry s most of the regulars, 
 that is and if he ain t a regular he don t get a table. 
 This is a dreadful slow town, ain t it? I haven t 
 been here long just long enough to find out that 
 there isn t a half dozen live ones in the whole burg." 
 
 Jimmy put aside his dreams, just as methodically
 
 1 40 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 as he cupped one palm over his cigarette, to hide its 
 point of light, and gave himself over, reluctantly, to 
 listening. He placed Melody now, without difficulty 
 or awkward embarrassment. She had a reputation; 
 she was a fire-brand and a trouble-maker. And 
 there was a note of throaty "elegance" in her voice 
 now, an obvious effort to be "genteel," which made 
 her conversation different from the idle chatter 
 which anyone who cared to listen in the neighborhood 
 of Hanlon s was always certain to hear. 
 
 Her observation brought instant agreement from 
 Sidney. He was more himself again. His laughter 
 was light and disparaging. 
 
 "Dead! My dear, this town has had the sleeping 
 sickness ever since birth." He stopped to contem 
 plate this statement, and found it pleasing. "But there 
 are a few live ones in it, at that just about a half 
 dozen, as you say. And, of course, there s there s 
 no place in town like Henry s, but if you ve got a 
 friend yesterday you suggested How would you 
 like to have something to eat after the show? There s 
 a friend of mine " 
 
 At that Jimmy realized that this was not a 
 merely casual meeting. Rehearsal had brought 
 Sidney to the vicinity of Hanlon s the day before, 
 while Jimmy lay asleep. 
 
 "I d be real pleased," Melody answered. "We ll 
 wait for you after the curtain. We re settin out in 
 front, trying to keep from havin hysterics, so s the
 
 SEASON S SMARTEST FUNCTION 141 
 
 usher won t lead us gently outside, before it s finished. 
 My, ain t the leadin woman a scream!" 
 
 "It it s rather amateurish, I suppose," Sidney 
 admitted a little stiffly. "I I m supposed to be the 
 director, but " 
 
 Jimmy could see his cousin s face plainly for a 
 second against the light of the open door. Melody s 
 slight figure, closer to him, was not so easy to make 
 out. But she was quick to perceive and cover her 
 slip. 
 
 "You ve done wonders," she established her 
 opinion stoutly. "Wonders ! That s what Rose says 
 to me she s my lady friend just before the end of 
 the act. Why, she says they wouldn t a been no 
 show at all without the directin . And Rose ought 
 to know. She was in the beauty ballet two months on 
 the Roof. Well, you ve got enough on your hands 
 with that mob. See you later?" 
 
 Sidney nodded as he was entering the theater. 
 
 "As soon as I can get away," he called in a hushed 
 voice. "They they re waiting for me now." 
 
 Jimmy took one step after the girl as she scudded 
 past him, holding her atrocity of a hat against her so 
 that the feather might not be ruined by the rain, but 
 he thought better of the impulse before she had seen 
 or heard him. The objection which he might have 
 obtruded was too vague to be put into words. 
 
 But as he watched the further unfolding of the plot 
 during the second act, from behind his bookcase
 
 1 42 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 shield, a position regained with some difficulty and 
 an added admonition from Abel, he found it difficult 
 to keep his attention from wandering. And during 
 the next intermission he puzzled over the problem 
 without seeking the open air. It was at worst only a 
 harmless, foolish encounter and yet, again and 
 again, he rejected that view as inadequate. 
 
 All that Hanlon had said earlier in the day con 
 cerning the hotel which bore his name, the boy knew 
 to be the truth. It was clean and orderly and honest. 
 But there was much which had been left unsaid 
 concerning those who patronized it. Their very 
 presence made it no place for amateur wickedness, 
 such as Sidney s. He told himself that doubtless 
 Sidney s escapade did not include Pegleg s as a 
 supper place, but recollection of the guile in Melody s 
 voice bothered him. A few minutes later he reached 
 out and detained the gentleman of color who was 
 flying past, agleam with the heat and giddy with his 
 sense of authority. 
 
 A word would not have checked Abel s passage in 
 the slightest degree. Jimmy held fast to the skirt 
 of the precious dress coat while he talked. 
 
 "Where s Pegleg to-night?" he asked. 
 
 "How I know?" he demanded testily, and strained 
 tentatively on the coat. "How I know where white 
 folks spend they evenin s! Leggo my coat, Jimmy. 
 Now look ! Din I know they wouldn t get at table 
 in ithout bustin somethin ."
 
 143 
 
 But Jimmy failed to heed his captive s fluttering 
 to be free. 
 
 u Do you know whether he s going to be around 
 to-night?" 
 
 Thereupon Abel put his mind upon the formulation 
 of a suitable reply, since upon that depended his 
 release. 
 
 "He am never roun now nights twell two or 
 three in the mawnin ," he stated. "Din I tole you 
 he s out lectioneerin ?" 
 
 Jimmy let him go. 
 
 All the boy s breathlessness was gone as he 
 watched Evelyn Latham through the third and last 
 act, though her conception of the emotional third act 
 curtain was not responsible for the frown upon his 
 forehead. 
 
 Yet he waited outside in the alley until the cast 
 had gone tripping by, chattering together 
 unintelligibly; he waited until the last "equipage in 
 the seemingly endless string of conveyances had 
 borne away the swirling throng." And Melody and 
 her companion, Rose, cautiously joined by Sidney and 
 Lloyd Jameson at the stage door, had preceded him 
 by almost an hour, when he realized that the rain 
 was cold upon his head. He had bared it when 
 Evelyn passed him on the way to her car. He had 
 been standing there longer than he knew, forgetting 
 even to replace his cap. 
 
 The faint, familiar stoop in his shoulders was
 
 144 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 more pronuonced than usual as he approached the 
 square brick hotel in the angle of the block and the 
 river. Grave and preoccupied of face, he shook the 
 clerk behind the desk into partial wakefulness. To 
 Jimmy s suggestion that it was after closing time that 
 supercilious one opened sluggish lids to see who 
 might be the innocent-hearted purveyor of such a 
 piece of news. 
 
 "Who t " he began, and then, recognizing 
 
 the boy, he grinned. " Lo, Jimmy," he said. 
 "Closing time, eh? Oh, my; oh, my! If I ain t 
 went and forgot that again I" Thereupon his voice 
 became matter-of-fact and businesslike; indeed, not 
 unlike that of T. E. Banks when the latter spoke on 
 home trade. "They s a little game goin on in the 
 back room," he explained. "A couple of your swell 
 young friends from up on the hill are giving the 
 party. Melody steered em in." 
 
 Jimmy left him before the explanation was 
 finished. He passed on to the larger room in which 
 he had breakfasted that morning with Hanlon. 
 This was deserted, but down the long hall that led 
 to the rear of the house an edge of light showed 
 beneath a door. 
 
 With his hand upon the knob he hesitated; when 
 he tried the door, gently, he found it locked. But the 
 key rattled at the first sound his effort made. The 
 door opened a crack; and then the waiter, who 
 looked flabby, stepped back and motioned the boy
 
 SEASON S SMARTEST FUNCTION 145 
 
 to enter. There was a slight twitch at the corners 
 of the waiter s lips, as though he wanted to laugh. 
 
 The eyes of every person in the room swung to 
 .meet him as Jimmy closed the door, furtive or defiant 
 as the sex might be. Recognizing him, they turned 
 away again, casually welcoming, bent upon giving 
 their undivided attention to matters more remunera 
 tive. Only Sidney and Lloyd Jameson and the girl, 
 Melody, continued to stare. The faces of the first 
 two were somewhat stricken for a breath ; and then, 
 before Jimmy s utter disinterestedness and calm 
 acceptance of their presence, Sidney drew one eyelid 
 close. He motioned to the deck of cards which he 
 held, and the chips upon the table. 
 
 "Little game, Jimmy, old top." He spoke with a 
 cordiality hitherto foreign to him ; his air was rollick 
 ing, but his chin quivered and betrayed him. "Luck s 
 been running with the house. Want to sit in and help 
 retrieve the honor of the family?" 
 
 Jimmy shook his head. 
 
 "Broke !" he stated laconically, and from him the 
 word was apparently an acceptable joke, for a burst 
 of laughter greeted it. But the mirth was not quite 
 easy. It sounded too forced to be convincing. 
 Whitey Garritty, seated on the far side of the table, 
 behind a barrier of chips, curled his lip and spat, and 
 centered his pale gaze upon Sidney. 
 
 "This is no game for amateurs. Shoot em, 
 Sport. Your deal!"
 
 i 4 6 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 The girls were not playing. Rose was sitting at 
 Lloyd Jameson s shoulder, and Melody, perched 
 upon the arm of Sidney s chair, had been chiding 
 him for his bad luck and watching his cards with 
 bright eyes. She remained in that position, but her 
 flow of banter ceased with Jimmy s coming. And 
 her smile became rigid and fixed. Whenever he 
 raised his head Jimmy found her eyes upon his face, 
 troubled and mutely questioning. He turned away 
 to avoid that gleam, and found the waiter watching 
 him, too. The waiter he questioned under his 
 breath. 
 
 "Hanlon back yet?" he asked. 
 
 Every ear listened while the waiter made answer, 
 but Jimmy, if he noticed, feigned not to have seen. 
 Unconcerned to the point of indifference, he gave 
 himself over to watching the game, standing a yard 
 or two behind Sidney s back. 
 
 The change which came over that back room came 
 slowly. The laughter ceased first, and then the 
 comment, jocular or peevish, as the case might be, 
 which had accompanied the playing of each, and 
 men began to eye each other from the corners of 
 their eyes, and turned toward Jimmy not at all. 
 
 In his cousin s face Jimmy had read the extent of 
 Sidney s losses the moment he entered the room. In 
 spite of an effort to maintain an air of gaiety, Sidney s 
 face was sick and gray. He was worrying far more 
 over the markers out against him than were those
 
 SEASON S SMARTEST FUNCTION 147 
 
 who held them. For these latter knew how sure 
 collections would be, even though the operation might 
 be accompanied by a little delay and a certain sort of 
 unpleasantness. 
 
 But now Sidney was the on*y one who laughed. 
 His enjoyment of the game became boisterous, and 
 with the change of luck, which veered suddenly his 
 way, Whitey Garritty s equanimity began to suffer. 
 Jimmy felt the latter s ugly gaze upon his face. 
 Sidney won, and won again. Melody s eyes were 
 black with fear. And then, with the room grown 
 deadly quiet, Garritty rose and beat upon the table 
 with his slim white hand. Sidney had just laid down 
 a flush that beat his aces three. 
 
 "Where in hell are your eyes?" Whitey grated at 
 the girl, and, as she shrank back, he whirled and 
 motioned Jimmy to a chair with a jerky gesture. "Sit 
 down," he snarled. "If you aren t going to sit in, 
 sit down." 
 
 Jimmy s mild drawl answered him. 
 
 "Her eyes are all right, Garritty," he said. "She 
 was watching. How do you suppose she s going to 
 flash to you what he s holding when she knows I m 
 watching her?" 
 
 The girl quivered as though she had been struck. 
 Men lurched to their feet and drew back against the 
 wall. Rose whimpered and leaped, and the sleazy 
 material of her skirt caught and ripped upon a 
 splinter on the chair. Sidney sat with his mouth
 
 i 4 8 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 open; Lloyd Jameson gulped aloud with joy, for to 
 him the interference meant nothing yet, but a solu 
 tion of a distressing financial muddle. And only the 
 waiter failed to move. He knew his time for action 
 had come and gone minutes before. 
 
 Now Garritty leaned across the table. It seemed 
 that it had been quiet for hours. And then Jimmy 
 was speaking again, slowly and distinctly. 
 
 "If you re going to get any more to-night, 
 Garritty," he said, "you ll need the cold deck in your 
 pocket." 
 
 With that Garritty s hand went crawling behind 
 him, and came crawling back. Jimmy s lean face 
 looked haggard, but his crooked grin arched his lips. 
 And then the door which led into the long hall leaped 
 convulsively. With the first blow that set it to vibrat 
 ing upon its hinges the fear was gone from Melody s 
 eyes. She lifted a chair and swung it with thin arms 
 that bent like steel, and whipped it across the table 
 into Garritty s face. Garritty went down. Tumult 
 within rose above the tumult without, and drowned 
 Chief Hendricks first bellow for admittance. A 
 shot spattered the plaster off the ceiling as Garritty 
 went down. A woman screamed. When the waiter 
 snapped off the lights and ripped open another door 
 Jimmy dragged his cousin Sidney and Lloyd Jameson 
 from beneath the table and jammed them before 
 him into a passageway which led to the open air. 
 
 And then the lights were up again.
 
 SEASON S SMARTEST FUNCTION 149 
 
 "Steady, you!" A voice warned the boy. He 
 closed the door upon the pair s retreat and turned 
 back into the room. 
 
 Jimmy was blinking as he faced the light. The 
 eyes of Melody were clinging to him. And she was 
 the only one of them all, jaunty or sullen as the sex 
 might be, who attempted an explanation. Her fierce 
 outburst an officer checked with an expert twist of her 
 wrist, which made the bone crunch and brought her 
 with a moan to her knees. 
 
 Hendricks, Warchester s Chief of Police, counted 
 them off. 
 
 "Nine," he grunted succinctly. The crash of glass 
 and a shivered window accounted for Whitey 
 Garritty s escape. "Take them out to the wagon."
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 ACCORDING TO THE CODE 
 
 DAWN was but a gray promise in the east when 
 Pegleg Hanlon raised his grizzled head and 
 shook it, weary from argument and self- 
 revilcment. It was an hour since he had begun to 
 talk to the bowed figure opposite him, and nothing 
 had been accomplished by his effort save that the 
 gruffiness was gone from his own voice as he set 
 himself to try again. 
 
 "Ye could have got away yerself," he said gently. 
 "Why didn t ye?" 
 
 Jimmy shook his head without looking up. He 
 had not looked up even once since he and Hanlon 
 had entered the room. And his voice was dull, as 
 though he, too, was too weary from fruitless 
 discussion to carry the argument further. 
 
 "I don t know," he said. "I don t know." 
 
 "Why did ye interfere in the first place?" Hanlon 
 persisted. "Ye knew that twas none of your affair 
 twas not accordin to the code." 
 
 "I don t know," said the boy. 
 
 "It was too raw for ye to stomach, eh? Was that 
 it? Gawd, and it was raw, too! She told me the 
 girl how they framed the pair av thim." 
 
 150
 
 [ACCORDING TO THE CODE 151 
 
 "I heard," said Jimmy. "Part of it. That s why 
 I interfered, I guess, even when I knew it was no 
 business of mine." Suddenly his head came up, and 
 his voice was no longer muffled. "Who wants to 
 stand by and see a a pair of babies trimmed?" 
 
 "I thought so!" exclaimed Hanlon. "I thought 
 so! Ye had to be on the level!" But there he 
 abandoned an impulse to moralize. "She saved ye 
 at that," he went on. "Mike says Garrity d av gave it 
 to you it was there in his eyes. She saved ye and 
 now she s upstairs cryin her eyes out, just like a 
 dacint girl, because ye would not let her speak to the 
 judge. And twas her that got ye into the trouble, 
 Jimmy bhoy." 
 
 A sort of vague pity for a conclusion so wild 
 showed in Jimmy s pale eyes. 
 
 "I did it myself," he contradicted doggedly. "I 
 I ve had it coming to me for for months." 
 
 It was the same twist that the argument had taken 
 time and time before. Hanlon struck the paper on 
 the table before him a mighty blow with his open 
 hand. 
 
 "The hell ye have !" he roared. "The hell ye have \ 
 It s too late now, eh?" His fist clenched as he 
 quoted bitterly Mr. Wainwright s careful phrases. 
 "Whatever the course av the law may be, eh ? Then, 
 by God, I ll be the law unto this affair. Ye followed 
 thim in to take care av thim they who have crossed 
 the street rather than pass ye on the same side av the
 
 152 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 road. Ye shoved thim ahead av ye and got it 
 yerself! Now, Jimmy bhoy, I m askin ye again, 
 without blasphemy on me tongue what are ye going 
 to do?" 
 
 Sudden, bitter, boyish tears of rage filled Jimmy s 
 eyes. 
 
 "What is there to do?" he cried. "You sit there 
 and ask me that again. You know better, Pegleg. 
 They showed me that they didn t want me here. 
 They ve been showing me that for years, yet I came 
 back and gave them another chance. And now now 
 Jameson has given me twenty-four hours to get out 
 of town twenty- four hours ! That s what they give 
 to vagrants, Pegleg, and drunken wrecks that it does 
 no good to lock up." His laughter shrilled high 
 and hysterical. "Well, I don t need twenty-four 
 hours. I m going and going now 1" 
 
 Hanlon s hard face grew wondrous tender. Even 
 fifty years was a short time in which to have acquired 
 an understanding such as that. He reached out a 
 rough paw as if to touch the boy s slack hand, and 
 drew it back, self-consciously. 
 
 "Ye re tellin me nothing that I m not afther 
 knowin already, lad," he murmured. "But I m 
 tellin ye something that ye don t seem willing to 
 grasp. Ye don t have to go unless ye have to ! Is 
 that what ye mean?" 
 
 "I have to." The boy s breath sobbed in his 
 throat.
 
 ACCORDING TO THE CODE 153 
 
 " Nobody s talked," went on Pegleg patiently. 
 f ,Tis not the honorable thing among thieves and 
 rogues and cutthroats to gossip to the detriment av 
 the life and liberty av a colleague. But tis Hanlon 
 who s not above droppin a word, quiet and persuas 
 ive like, in the ear av Justice Jameson. An he would 
 be pleased to listen, once I had begun my little 
 spache. I m thinkin he would reconsider his verdict 
 no?" 
 
 Violently the boy shook his head. 
 
 "No," he refused. "No no!" 
 
 "Ye helped thim to get clear," Hanlon persisted. 
 "They are gintlemin, and their repitations would not 
 stand the strain av an occurrence such as last night s. 
 Ye helped thim win free, and so, like gintlemin, 
 they ve stood by ye and shouldered their bit av the 
 throuble like hell they have !" 
 
 "I d have got it, anyhow, sooner or later." Jimmy 
 had meant to argue no more, but he tried to make his 
 point. "It isn t that I don t know how easy it would 
 be to to fix it up. But that s all it would be just 
 fixed !" His thin face flamed. "I don t want to stay, 
 that s all. I m not running away, either, because I 
 don t dare stay, because some day I m coming back. 
 But now " 
 
 "Not because ye don t dare stay," Hanlon echoed 
 gravely. And he rose and dropped an arm about the 
 boy s shoulders. "I m thinkin I understand. Tis 
 action wan requires in anny game, an if livin ain t
 
 i 5 4 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 a game, what is it? Ye re grinnin , are ye? Praise 
 God, tis yere crooked smile wance more. I m sorry 
 I ll miss ye I had need av ye here. But I ll leave 
 the latch-string out gainst yer return. Is there 
 
 would ye now be afther allowin me to " 
 
 And in truth now the boy was smiling, for Hanlon s 
 self-consciousness was a painful, purple thing. 
 
 "Even you haven t the face to say it," Jimmy 
 railed at him unsteadily. "I dare you offer to lend 
 me money!" 
 
 "I am a bad man," Hanlon made reply irrelevantly. 
 "Everybody who enjoys a better repitation says so. 
 And ye have a criminal record ! Look at me, lad I 
 iWill ye take twenty just twenty?" 
 
 Jimmy shook his head. 
 
 "Ten?" 
 
 Again an almost gleeful refusal. 
 
 "Five?" 
 
 Hanlon gave it up. 
 
 "I could wish that ye d come to cruel starvation," 
 he mourned, "but for the hungry look av ye at this 
 instant." 
 
 They stood a moment, awkward and sentiment- 
 shy. Then the boy reached out his hand, and 
 Pegleg s gnarled fist shot out and swallowed it. 
 
 "I ll leave my baggage," Jimmy smiled defiantly 
 over the ancient squib. "I m in arrears, you know." 
 
 Hanlon could not answer. Angrily he tried to 
 clear his husky throat. But the boy turned back from
 
 ACCORDING TO THE CODE 155 
 
 the doorway, after the older man thought he had 
 gone, and fumbled in his pocket. He brought out 
 the two-dollar bill, folded to a knife-edge crease 
 his calamity fund which he carried in his waistcoat 
 pocket. 
 
 " The Satin Slipper that opens here next week . . . 
 Dave Landis daughter . . ." His explanation, begun 
 carefully enough, went totally to pieces. Yet Hanlon 
 understood. 
 
 "I would have done it for ye, gladly, but I know 
 ye d have it no other way than this." And he 
 accepted the money. 
 
 Jimmy nodded. 
 
 "Roses," he hesitated. "Red roses. I think 
 would be best. You ll not be able to buy many so 
 maybe just one, with a long stem 
 
 "I ll care for it for ye," said Hanlon. 
 
 [And then the boy found the door and blundered 
 through. Main Street was deserted at that hour, as 
 was the broad thoroughfare which led from it to 
 the Union Station beyond the square. The boy kept 
 his eyes before him and hurried as he went. He 
 never knew just when the yellow Airedale joined 
 him. Jimmy had reached the network of tracks; a 
 freight had hissed up to the water-tank and was 
 drinking thirstily when Oh Boy licked his hand. At 
 that moment Jimmy found it hardest to smile. 
 
 "Back, Oh Boy," he ordered the dog, who was 
 himself a wanderer. "Back home, Oh Boy!" But
 
 -r$6 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 he was down in the cinders the next breath, straining 
 the lean and bristly body against him. And he swayed 
 as he rose and dusted his shiny blue serge mechani 
 cally with one hand. 
 
 An accommodating brakeman, recognizing him, 
 turned his head while Jimmy swung himself through 
 the door of an empty box-car. The Airedale stood 
 and watched, head on one side, one ear cocked 
 hopefully, until the caboose was only a blur on the 
 horizon. Then he turned and trotted soberly back 
 up the street.
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 WARC HESTER S OWN DAUGHTER 
 
 SINCE no one witnessed the boy s departure, it 
 could be described only as a fact which had 
 come to pass ; and this the Gazette did through 
 the able sentences of Mr. Wainwright. And his 
 announcement, bald and brief and unequivocal 
 though it was, that Justice Jameson s behest had been 
 obeyed, was welcome, indeed, to one reader who had 
 been waiting, sick with apprehension, for the sequel 
 of that account which detailed the boy s arrest. 
 
 But Carol Landis did not think to burn with shame 
 for him; any ignominious side which the occurrence 
 might have seemed to possess failed to occur to her. 
 And when Pegleg Hanlon, several hours after 
 Jimmy s going that morning, saw the girl watching 
 the hotel entrance from the mouth of the alley, he 
 joined her before the Palace Theater stage-door, 
 uncertain just what to say. The next moment he was 
 thankful and more than a little surprised to hear her 
 express gladness when he had admitted, reluctantly, 
 that Jimmy had gone. 
 
 She asked quite simply if the boy had had any 
 plans ; she asked if he had spoken of returning, and 
 that was all. But Pegleg remembered the brave bob 
 
 157
 
 i 5 8 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 of her head, and the quaintly wistful smile with 
 which she left him when he was buying the rose, as 
 Jimmy had requested, the night the "Satin Slipper" 
 opened. That purchase he made out of his own 
 pocket, tucking away the sharply creased two-dollar 
 bill for safe-keeping, with a whimsical thought for a 
 use to which he might some day put it. 
 
 A few days later a little figure in a mad costume 
 of black gasped at the mass of flowers which they 
 brought to her at the fall of the last act curtain. For 
 Pegleg, contemplating the one rose, had suddenly 
 found it insufficient. But it was over the single red 
 bud, upon which he had spent much care in selection, 
 that she cried at the train; the manager and the 
 principals of the "Satin Slipper," knowing nothing of 
 this solitary message or the local catastrophe, which 
 would not have scandalized half as much as it would 
 have amused them, tried to comfort her whom they 
 knew only as an earnest, hungry-eyed, red-haired, 
 small person ; third from the end, front row, chorus. 
 
 They thought that she was homesick; they told her 
 she would soon get used to it. And later she cried 
 herself to sleep. 
 
 Of Carol Landis s career there was decidedly 
 more report in the years that followed, in spite of the 
 fact that her departure was not dignified by even so 
 much as adverse mention. It was Justice Jameson s 
 son, Lloyd, who brought back to Warchester the first 
 really tangible news of her progress, though Wain-
 
 WARCHESTER S OWN DAUGHTER 159 
 
 wright himself, coming across a three-line announce 
 ment in a theatrical weekly that a new recruit for the 
 dramatic had been drafted from the ranks of musical 
 comedy, faithfully passed it on to his strictly local 
 audience, in a paragraph commendatory or 
 facetiously caustic, as one cared to view it. Mr. 
 Wainwright s actual intent was veiled, but the report 
 which Lloyd Jameson brought back with him some 
 four years later from New York was anything but 
 uncertain of import. To the contrary, it was so 
 glowing and incoherent a tribute that it fell little 
 short of overreaching itself. 
 
 In four years Lloyd s enthusiastic transfer of his 
 avor from one pulchritudinous member of the 
 opposite sex to another had become an occurrence of 
 periodic regularity; so there were those who set down 
 his rapt account of Miss Carol Landis s first 
 Broadway appearance to his admitted weakness a 
 harmless outbreak, but as visible to the naked eye as 
 a summer rash. Of the work she did in her role he 
 had little to say even less concerning the play 
 itself. "Just the same old stuff," was the way he 
 dismissed inquiries in that direction, "but wonderfully 
 staged, of course. Hardy s a wizard at staging 
 anything." 
 
 He went into detail, however, without being urged, 
 in describing the transformation which had taken 
 place in old Dave Landis s daughter. "Spun copper" 
 he used oftenest in speaking of her hair; and he
 
 160 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 dwelt so eloquently upon the beauty of her other 
 features, which they had all overlooked in former; 
 days, that his welcome at the Sunday evening gather 
 ings, which were still a weekly event upon the 
 Latham front veranda, became noticeably cooler, 
 especially on the part of that portion of his audience 
 which listened in polite boredom and remarked that 
 much could be done with make-up. 
 
 This observation, in the nature of a retort 
 courteous, was largely responsible for a cynical note 
 which crept into the utterances of the young 
 gentleman in question about that time, whenever he 
 spoke of women in the abstract. But one result he 
 had achieved which the canniest press-agent would 
 have watched with frankest envy. And when, bearing 
 out Lloyd s fervid prophecy, which he fell back upon 
 whenever they drove him to the defensive, 
 metropolitan newspapers and magazines devoted 
 to the "profession" began to mention the work of 
 an "eager-eyed young lady with red hair who, in the 
 part of Intoxication in Carl Hardy s sweeping 
 morality play, Wisdom, stood head and shoulders 
 above the rest of the cast," theatrical patrons in 
 Warchester (those who followed the drama with an 
 eye to the critical, as well as those who bought seats 
 merely to be amused) read every word with avidity. 
 They waited, as patiently as they were able, for the 
 day when "Wisdom" should come to town. 
 
 The play needed no advance advertising when the
 
 WARCHESTER S OWN DAUGHTER 161 
 
 billboards announced its engagement for the week 
 following the Holidays. Indeed, the probable 
 influence which the play might exert upon local minds 
 and morals had so usurped the center of the stage 
 that little else of importance was discussed at all 
 during the two weeks which preceded its initial 
 performance in the old Palace Theater burlesque 
 house. 
 
 As the president and moving spirit of the Reform 
 League (the society which, molding those of 
 uncertain opinion, had helped to place T. Elihu 
 Banks in the mayor s office four years in succession, 
 the Reverend Watson Duncan gave the matter much 
 private thought and a deal of public mention. From 
 a mere dramatic performance, scheduled to lay over 
 there the leanest week in the season, under Mr. Dun 
 can s agitation, "Wisdom" took on the guise of a 
 grave crisis, until there were many who professed a 
 doubt in the virtue of any public preachment, 
 dramatic or otherwise, which featured as delightful 
 the work of any artist in such a role as Intoxication. 
 While Mr. Duncan himself was reputed ultra- 
 advanced, insofar as theological matters were 
 concerned, he still clung to the belief that there was 
 nothing to be gained by admitting that vice had its 
 bright sides. When dealing with all such matters his 
 language was drab and his premonition of a future 
 state still drabber. And finally convinced that the 
 production was likely to offend the finer sensibilities
 
 1 62 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 and prove an affront to every established idea of 
 decency, the town set a record for an advance sale of 
 tickets which, until then, had never been equaled. 
 Every seat in the house sold out three days before the 
 company s arrival. 
 
 At the Sunday morning service in St. Luke s, the 
 rector alone failed to guess the identity of the girl 
 with bronze-tinted hair who occupied a back pew with 
 David Landis. On the face of it that would seem an 
 incredible thing, for the buzz which followed her 
 entrance should have apprised him of her identity, 
 and she had been much in his mind. But her costume, 
 black from hat and muffling fur to the low pumps, 
 which seemed totally inadequate for a Warchester 
 winter, resembled in no way the costume which the 
 Reverend Mr. Duncan had imagined a widely 
 advertised actress of insidious roles would wear. 
 And he overlooked her father entirely everybody 
 overlooked old Dave Landis. 
 
 That morning Mr. Duncan spoke feelingly; partly 
 because the subject which he had chosen lay close to 
 him; partly because the wistful attention in this 
 charming stranger s gray eyes led him to believe that 
 his words were awakening in her a response born of 
 experience. He saw her nod, ever so little, and smile 
 as he announced that his evening discourse would be 
 an intimate and practical application of the morning s 
 sermon to the present-day influence of the theater, 
 She was still smiling when she stepped up to him in
 
 WARCHESTER S OWN DAUGHTER 163 
 
 the vestibule and held out a slim, gloved hand. 
 
 The older members of St. Luke s congregation had 
 already passed out into the brilliant winter sunshine. 
 But in the slim girl s neighborhood there was an 
 excess of youthfully effusive exclamation, and cooing, 
 Sabbath mirth. Once they had ignored Carol 
 Landis s presence with less elaborate effort in fact, 
 with no effort at all. Now, wishing inordinately to 
 be the first to establish a claim to childhood acquaint 
 ance, that effort served only to draw attention to a 
 common uncertainty as to the best way to go about 
 it. Even Lloyd Jameson, who had resolved during 
 the sermon that the man who outstripped him in 
 reaching her side would have to move rapidly indeed, 
 found that his initiative had deserted him when the 
 moment for action came. Yet, all and all, it was a 
 moment of triumph for Lloyd. For every anxious, 
 backward look of the rest he had a glance of 
 challenge. There was a swagger in his bearing the 
 rest of the day which seemed to say I told you so. 
 
 Carol Landis alone remained outwardly unaware 
 of the stir which she herself was creating. She gave 
 her attention entirely to the old man beside her until 
 the rector appeared. But her nod of greeting to him 
 ,was so intimately eager that Mr. Duncan grew a 
 trifle blank and dismayed. 
 
 "You don t remember me !" she accused him. And 
 then Mr. Duncan remembered. At her delighted 
 peal of laughter the rector of St. Luke s, little given
 
 1 64 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 to levity, could not but see the charming humor of 
 such a preposterous statement. 
 
 "But I do, my dear young lady," he made haste to 
 
 reply. "Any man who could ever forget you " 
 
 His face became florid as he finished the implication 
 with a bow "You are little Miss Landis, of 
 course." 
 
 In a way, it was a remarkable reply. In every way 
 it was different from what the Reverend Watson 
 Duncan had imagined it would be, yet now he was 
 the first to laugh. And her quick enjoyment convinced 
 him instantly that he had said a very clever thing. 
 
 With the eyes of his congregation upon him, the 
 Reverend Watson Duncan accompanied David 
 Landis and his daughter home to the cottage on the 
 back street, reached by way of the path that led 
 around the rectory and through the orchard, gaunt 
 and gnarled and naked ; nor was it commented in any 
 quarter that he seemed to find this duty irksome. 
 
 On the way, he spoke of his naturally keen interest 
 in the spiritual children of his congregation, while old 
 Dave Landis strode on ahead, a quaint stiffness in 
 his bearing. Delicately he intimated to the girl at 
 his side how wide was the discussion which her 
 interpretation of a doubtful role had stirred up, and 
 expressed hope that she had not unwisely allowed 
 expediency to influence her in a meritorious desire for 
 success. This last remark, however, was interrupted 
 by the barbed-wire fence, and when Carol had
 
 WARCHESTER S OWN DAUGHTER 165 
 
 extricated him and chided him for his male 
 heedlessness (the reverend gentleman was never 
 given to know how aghast had been his face while he 
 stood with august coat-tail impaled upon a rusty 
 barb), he cast about for a sentence to continue that 
 lead, and found that it had somehow eluded him. 
 
 "It is very dear of you to have thought about 
 that," the girl herself led the way back to the subject. 
 "I I knew you would. I thought it might but it 
 makes me very happy to hear you speak of it so 
 frankly. I was afraid that many of Warchester s 
 people her best people had already formed an 
 opinion which might prove difficult to combat." 
 
 The arch of her lips was distinctly disconcerting, 
 and, while Mr. Duncan s reply was not exactly 
 vague, it was in no way alarmingly committal, either. 
 One might have thought that he was trying to get his 
 breath, and sparring for time. 
 
 "Yes, indeed," he said solemnly; "most certainly, 
 yes." 
 
 She had led the way into the small front room and 
 seated him with a graciousness that might have 
 matched Evelyn Latham s coolest poise, although the 
 chair which she proffered was a causalty risk in it 
 self; and old Dave Landis had withdrawn with a 
 punctilious word concerning an important editorial 
 for the morning edition before it occurred to the 
 Reverend Watson Duncan, with inspiring suddenness 
 just how pleasant his duty was.
 
 1 66 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 Carol tossed aside her black coat and stood a 
 moment in blouse and short black skirt before the 
 pier-glass, touching her hair with her finger-tips, 
 though it was the reflection of her own sober eyes at 
 which she gazed. Then she turned back to him with 
 a dazzling smile. 
 
 "It was very childish of me to worry, and very 
 absurd, wasn t it?" she laughed. "But I want to 
 know what you think. Because I m sure you ll be very 
 positive in your condemnation or approval." 
 
 Thereupon Mr. Duncan placed both hands upon 
 his knees, his fingers widespread, and leaned forward. 
 The girl s face was very earnest, and very, very 
 lovely. Not even the ghost of a smile lurked in the 
 corners of her mouth. 
 
 "My dear child," he began sonorously, "it has long 
 been a foolish custom to paint temptation in ugly 
 colors a dangerous one as well, for temptations, in 
 this era, are about the most brightly garbed problems 
 which we encounter." 
 
 And starting thus, he expounded at such length his 
 personal impatience with so misguided a doctrine 
 that it was a full half-hour before he came to refer 
 to the part which she played in the morality play 
 called "Wisdom." 
 
 "Here in the small circle, the opinion of which it 
 is permitted me to mold at least a little," he assured 
 her, "I mean to take advantage of this concrete 
 example to drive home the lesson. Nor do I need to
 
 WARCHESTER S OWN DAUGHTER 167 
 
 tell you how greatly it pleases me that it is one of 
 my own flock to use a homely expression who 
 makes the opportunity possible. Warchester has been 
 watching you, Miss Landis, ever since the day you 
 stepped out, with your ideals and your faith in 
 yourself, to carve out your own destiny. And 
 Warchester will be very proud to claim you now, 
 Miss Landis of that you may be certain. An eager 
 and sympathetic audience is awaiting your initial 
 appearance to-morrow evening." 
 
 It was a long half-hour, but Carol gave no sign 
 that she had found it so. She listened without once 
 taking her eyes from his face, even when he spoke of 
 her departure from Warchester. And she bobbed 
 her head, prettily grateful, when he had finished. 
 
 "But do you realize that you haven t told me a 
 single thing about anybody I used to know?" she 
 asked, a moment later. "Usually I like to talk about 
 myself better than any other available topic, but a 
 little gossip is a sin for which I ll gladly do penance 
 later, if you ll only let me indulge it now. Father is 
 an atrocious letter-writer. He assured me that I d 
 find Warchester little changed, so I m certain that his 
 viewpoint is entirely too profound for me to 
 appreciate." 
 
 Mr. Duncan was silent for a time while he selected 
 words which might not in any way wound this round- 
 eyed young person who waited with her lips half 
 parted.
 
 i68 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 "It is still a very typical, and, I hope, extremely 
 human, community," Mr. Duncan replied. "But I 
 cannot agree with your father s unqualified statement. 
 It is inadequate and misleading innocently so, to be 
 sure. While it has maintained, personally, an 
 unassailable reputation in the struggle, I have never 
 ceased to regret that he has been allied against us, 
 in our march toward finer ideals, both in a civic " 
 
 Promptly Carol pressed both palms against her 
 ears. 
 
 "You can t talk politics to me," she cried 
 emphatically. "I won t listen. You are permitted to 
 tell me who is married and who is engaged. You 
 dare mention civic problems to me! Why, Mr. 
 Duncan, I m a suffragette only because I enjoy 
 demanding things which someone tells me I mustn t 
 have." 
 
 Once more the reverend gentleman spoke at some 
 length. But when, with real regret, he was at last 
 forced to admit that he had exhausted his subject, 
 the girl lifted a pensive face. 
 
 "What a harum-scarum creature I was," she mur 
 mured. And then exclaimed in quick surprise at the 
 incompleteness of the tale. 
 
 "Why, you ve entirely neglected to tell me anything 
 concerning the one person about whom I ve been 
 waiting and waiting to hear. You haven t said a 
 single word about Jimmy, Mr. Duncan?" 
 
 The benign smile with which he had been watching
 
 WARCHESTER S OWN DAUGHTER 169 
 
 her glowing face was gone in a breath. In that same 
 breath the silence in the room grew strained. For an 
 infinitesimal second the reverend gentleman felt 
 instinctively that he had been outrageously betrayed. 
 The very clearness of her gaze, however, disarmed 
 him the next instant, and convinced him of the 
 unworthiness of such a suspicion. He tempered the 
 reply which had sprung first to his lips. 
 
 "That is a subject which I have not mentioned, nor 
 endured to be discussed in my presence, for many 
 years, Miss Landis." He spoke with exceeding 
 gravity. "But I realize what underlies your query. 
 More than that, I am constrained to tell you how fine 
 a thing I think such loyalty to be. Many times I 
 have told myself that at least it is good not to have 
 to suffer self-recrimination. And you will be glad 
 to hear that his pride was great enough to keep him 
 from returning to the city which was forced to cast 
 him off." 
 
 The Reverend Watson Duncan did not see the 
 expression which that thankful utterance provoked, 
 for she looked quickly away. And she had mastered 
 it, and contrived somehow a smile, before her head 
 came up again. But the brightness of her eyes 
 brought an awkward lump into Mr. Duncan s throat. 
 
 "I ve never heard from him," she said very 
 quietly. "But I ve often wondered somehow I 
 thought that it would be his pride which would bring 
 him back."
 
 170 
 
 She raised a hand as he cleared his throat. 
 
 "You have been very good to sit and listen so long 
 to my chatter. I mustn t keep you any longer. If I 
 send you tickets for to-morrow night, you ll come, 
 won t you?" 
 
 Mr. Duncan rose. She had mastered the art of a 
 graceful exit. The reverend gentleman took his 
 leave, believing that he had brought it about himself. 
 
 As he had promised, the rector of St. Luke s spoke 
 that night upon the subject of the morality play, 
 "Wisdom." As hinted, his remarks were in a way, 
 sensational, but not in the way in which his congrega 
 tion had expected. For Mr. Duncan s approval of 
 one member of the cast, at least, was so unreserved 
 that Miss Evelyn Latham, the acknowledged leader 
 of Warchester s younger set, came to a decision 
 concerning a question which had been occupying her 
 mind throughout the entire day. Upon heavy 
 monogrammed paper she wrote Miss Landis, who 
 played the part of Intoxication, a decidedly informal 
 invitation to be the guest of honor at a small tea 
 following Saturday s matinee. And in the same mail, 
 Ferris, the company s road manager, dispatched two 
 box-seats to the Reverend Watson Duncan, though 
 the demand for them was clamorous. This, he 
 assured the house treasurer, was the least he could 
 do, since it was Mr. Duncan who was largely re 
 sponsible for that demand. 
 
 Quite in accord with the usual course of events, it
 
 WARCHESTER S OWN DAUGHTER 171 
 
 was Mr. Wainwright who echoed, Tuesday morning, 
 the huge audience s judgment of the performance the 
 night before. He complimented the management 
 upon its sagacity in no longer attempting to foist 
 upon a sane public productions which made their 
 appeal to the grosser sensibilities, and mentioned 
 briefly the work of the star. But the rest of an entire 
 column was devoted to "Warchester s own 
 daughter." 
 
 The first two items were universally skipped; 
 everybody read the rest of the account, save the 
 "daughter" herself. And she was too busy badgering 
 her father about the account of the same affair which 
 the Courier carried to think of the other paper. For 
 once old Dave Landis had dipped his pen in 
 Wainwright s fluid phraseology; and though Carol 
 shouted in glee, and quoted his own words to his 
 face, and called it shameless, that day was the second 
 of the happiest week in his whole life. 
 
 Everybody had ignored him so long that he had 
 grown accustomd to it; and now all who knew him, 
 no matter how slightly, made it impossible for him 
 to ignore them. Warchester, having claimed Carol 
 Landis for its own, was seized immediately with an 
 overwhelming desire to shake her father by the hand 
 in her presence, if possible; if not, then with a 
 hope that chance would be kinder next time. And 
 though it was not so ephemeral a thing as their 
 belated realization of his own worth upon which his
 
 1 72 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 happiness was based, the discredited old dreamer 
 accepted it for what it was worth, and enjoyed it 
 accordingly. 
 
 He was with his daughter almost every hour of 
 every day; he chanced to be alone only because she 
 was at rehearsal Saturday morning, when T. Elihu 
 Banks stopped him before the Commonwealth 
 Building and accosted him with ponderous jocularity. 
 T. Elihu invariably swam with the current, when it 
 was harmless as well as popular. 
 
 "Still pounding me, I see," he remarked, and he 
 jabbed at a copy of the Courier with a fat forefinger, 
 " and I understand that the women folks are giving 
 a tea for your daughter up at my house this very 
 afternoon. Rank ingratitude, sir rank ingratitude ! 
 1 don t suppose you ll let up on me, Dave, till you re 
 gone for good." 
 
 It was the first time in twenty years that T. Elihu 
 had addressed him by his first name, which he 
 appeared to use unconsciously now. That morning 
 Main Street was treated to the sight of their great 
 man laughing boisterously over the sally of one who, 
 for as long a period, had never ceased to assail him. 
 
 "And maybe not then," Landis laughed back. 
 "Maybe not then who knows !" 
 
 T. Elihu pondered a day or two over that reply, 
 and then forgot it, for a time. And it was T. Elihu 
 who, early in the spring of the following year, sent 
 the message to Carol Landis which brought her back
 
 WARCHESTER S OWN DAUGHTER 173 
 
 to Warchester a second time, the morning after news 
 had spread like fire to every corner of the city that 
 David Landis was dead. 
 
 T. Elihu met the girl at the station with the purple- 
 cushioned barouche; he took upon himself every 
 "arrangement," insofar as she would permit. 
 
 But it was Pegleg Hanlon who sat with her in the 
 small front room of the dingy cottage, the day after 
 the funeral, when her father s will was read. 
 
 Nobody had suspected a streak of grim humor in 
 Dave Landis. Everybody had believed that the 
 publication known as the Courier was mortgaged to 
 T. Elihu to the last dollar of its value, until the 
 Courier printed a copy of its owner s most important 
 bequest. 
 
 Hours after that edition was carried into T.Elihu s 
 office in the Commonwealth Building, no one dared 
 to enter. Sundry noises, arising from time to time 
 behind the closed door, made such a course seem 
 inadvisable. 
 
 David Landis had lert the Warchester Courier, 
 title, property and good will, to "My friend and 
 fellow-townsman, James Gordon my logical 
 successor in Warchester."
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 MELODY 
 
 FOR a week or two discussion of old Dave 
 Landis s last will and testament was heard on 
 every corner in Warchester, especially heated 
 insofar as it concerned the one whom he had named 
 as his principal heir and logical successor. 
 
 There were those who insisted that Jimmy was 
 likely to turn up any morning to claim his heritage. 
 But when the perfunctory advertisement, which had 
 been sent broadcast throughout the land, failed to 
 produce the wanderer, this position became logically 
 untenable, and public interest gradually waned. Some 
 few pointed out that the joke on T. Elihu had 
 achieved the one big moment, anyhow that Jimmy s 
 return, in some state of vagabondage, could only 
 serve as anti-climax. 
 
 And the Reverend Watson Duncan, in the same 
 connection, quoted an apt line or two concerning the 
 brief span of years which is the lot of those who tread 
 the paths of pleasure. 
 
 Yet the advertisement did come to the eyes of him 
 for whom it was meant, though not in a scene of 
 squalor, nor any other of the highly undesirable,
 
 MELODY 175 
 
 picturesque fashions in which Warchester had 
 imagined James Gordon s discovery of it. 
 
 Following the death of her father, Carol Landis 
 went back on the road with the play called 
 "Wisdom." (Wainwright wrote with moving 
 eloquence upon the unsung bravery of those who 
 wore a mask of merriment when the heart was lead.) 
 And when, two months later, Carl Hardy watched 
 her work from the front before the company closed, 
 he returned to New York with his mind made up. 
 
 Two nights later, in carpet slippers and ragged 
 smoking- jacket, he sat and smiled a welcome to the 
 author of "Seek and Ye Shall Find," who stopped in 
 the living-room door to grin quizzically. "Seek and 
 Ye Shall Find" had remained a season on Broadway, 
 and bade fair to remain there the best part of 
 another. Locating its author was usually an entirely 
 different matter, however, and Hardy counted it a 
 lucky omen that his note, requesting an interview, 
 had not found him on the opposite side of the 
 hemisphere. 
 
 He waited until the visitor had stretched his lean 
 length in a chair before he spoke. 
 
 "Well, I m ready," he began then, with a kind of 
 repressed abruptness, "I m ready! What about 
 you?" 
 
 Plainly the question had to do with a subject which 
 they had discussed until it had become a familiar 
 one.
 
 176 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 "His Own Home Town?" the other asked, and 
 his quizzical grin disappeared. 
 
 Hardy nodded his head emphatically. 
 
 "Anybody in particular in mind for the lead?" 
 
 Again the emphatic nod. 
 
 "Landis !" snapped the producer. 
 
 And the taller, thinner man was so long silent, 
 staring into the empty fireplace before him, that 
 Hardy finally found it no longer possible to hide his 
 enthusiasm. 
 
 "Man," he cried, "if you can only get a finish for 
 that first act ! If you can only take that boy, as you ve 
 conceived him, carry him back to the town that 
 turned him out keep it all logical! keep it just 
 simple ! and dirt-mean ! and splendid and oh, 
 just so damned convincing that one would have to 
 believe that it had all really happened !" he broke 
 off, laughing self-consciously at his own outburst 
 "Well, she can handle the girl s part. I ve watched 
 her, and I know. What do you think?" 
 
 The younger man might have been talking to him 
 self when he made answer. 
 
 "Just as though it had all really happened," he 
 murmured; and then his head swung up. "Of course 
 and why not? I ll try it, Hardy. I ll see what I 
 can do?" 
 
 Two days later, Jimmy Gordon, T. Elihu s 
 good-for-nothing nephew, turned up again in the 
 haunts of his youth.
 
 MELODY 177 
 
 Spring had given way to early summer. There 
 was a drowsy hum in the air and a heavy scent of 
 hyacinths upon the puff of wind which blew across 
 the Common. Seated upon the veranda of the Bay 
 State Hotel a plump traveling man better known to 
 the trade as a "drummer" sniffed and then breathed 
 deeply of it. He had been forced to forego his jump 
 to Providence and lay over there Sunday, because he 
 dared not leave town without seeing Latham, of the 
 Construction Company J. J. Latham personally, 
 before he went. So one would reasonably have 
 expected him to find nothing of excellence on the 
 scene of his broken schedule. To the contrary, his 
 straw hat tilted back at a dangerous angle, quill 
 toothpick relic of an early breakfast protruding 
 comfortably from one corner of his mouth, he voiced 
 aloud his unqualified content to the intrepid pair 
 which formed the martial statue in the center of the 
 Common a gunner and his mate. 
 
 "Me, too, boys," he muttered. "I m with you. 
 I d just as soon fight it out on these lines if it took 
 all summer." 
 
 Mr. Dodge, the hotel proprietor, behind the desk 
 inside, hearing the sound of his voice, promptly 
 crossed to the open doorway. But any question which 
 he might have asked was cut short by the arrival of 
 the eight o clock express, which thundered into 
 Warchester s dingy station-shed at that moment. Mr. 
 Dodge gave his attention to the straggling knot of
 
 178 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 arrivals, who hurried off uptown; and the drummer 
 continued to contemplate the gunner and his mate, 
 for his distaste for Mr. Dodge s society was as 
 great as Mr. Dodge s disapproval and distrust of 
 him, until the hotel proprietor s gasp of astonishment 
 forced his attention. 
 
 Mr. Dodge was staring with his mouth wide open. 
 
 "What is it, a fire?" the drummer demanded 
 truculently; and then, catching sight of the figure on 
 the station platform at which the proprietor was 
 gazing so fixedly, his round face became suddenly 
 cherubic. 
 
 It was the drummer s boast that he never forgot 
 a name or a face, and he had more than one good 
 reason for remembering that tall, lean, thin-nosed 
 figure in blue serge who stood gazing up Front Street, 
 oblivious to everything but his own thoughts. 
 Aimless would not have described him with 
 exactitude, and yet he seemed amiably unconscious of 
 the stunned regard of Mr. Dodge. 
 
 The drummer wheeled toward that dumfounded 
 individual. 
 
 "Who s your friend?" he inquired with exceeding 
 softness. 
 
 Mr. Dodge turned with a sort of hypnotic stiffness 
 of neck. Mr. Dodge suggested a man who, having 
 gazed upon an apparition, was trying to convince 
 himself that he did not believe in the supernatural, 
 and achieving an indifferent success.
 
 MELODY 179 
 
 "He s no friend of mine," he retorted 
 mechanically, "nor of anybody else in this town. 
 That by Judas, that is him! that s Jimmy Gordon 
 come back again, just when we was beginning to 
 think he was gone for good." 
 
 "Hum-m-m," murmured the drummer; "hum-m-m." 
 lAnd then, most ingenuously: "I wonder where s the 
 dog?" 
 
 But this doubtful witticism missed its mark. Once 
 certain that his eyes were not betraying him, the 
 Bay State proprietor moved to the head of the steps, 
 the better to view the lean figure s passage up Front 
 Street. And little by little his smile waxed malig 
 nantly pleased. 
 
 "Look at that suit, will you?" he called attention 
 to the garments, which, in truth, were far from new, 
 "and that old felt hat and bag. Don t look to me like 
 he had found a gold-mine since he went away. Well, 
 if he s come back to this city expecting somebody to 
 give him a lift, it won t take him long to find out how 
 much of a mistake he s made. I I wish I could be 
 around to see T. Elihu s face when he finds out he s 
 back." 
 
 The drummer ignored that devoutly expressed 
 desire. He had been considering the prodigal s garb, 
 even before Mr. Dodge called attention to it. 
 
 "Nothing flash," he mused agreeably, "but but it 
 struck me that they looked as if they might have been 
 made for him." He addressed his question directly
 
 i8o HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 to the host : "How long did you say he s been away?" 
 
 "Upward of six years." Mr. Dodge s calculation 
 was as hasty as his utterance, for Jimmy Gordon had 
 reached the corner of Main Street and paused. 
 
 "Now watch," Mr. Dodge whispered, there was 
 no need for caution. "Watch! A-a-a-h, didn t I tell 
 you so ? There he goes, back to Hanlon s. Once a 
 crook always a crook!" And he sighed deeply. 
 "It ll certainly be mighty hard on his family," he 
 said. 
 
 The thin figure with its familiar shoulder stoop 
 had indeed paused at the corner, but not from 
 indecision. He paused again at the head of the alley, 
 and again beside the heap of discarded scenery near 
 the stage door. And when he climbed the steps of 
 the square brick hotel, and found Pegleg waiting for 
 him in the doorway, he thought that Pegleg must 
 have seen his deliberate approach, for there was 
 no surprise, but merely grave welcome, in Hanlon s 
 eyes. 
 
 "I was expectin ye," Hanlon answered his 
 laughing question, and Jimmy s laughter hushed. "I 
 was expectin ye. Though twill sound foolish when 
 I tell ye why. Jimmy, lad, I wonder if ye would be 
 remimbei in wan av the old burlesque crowd but av 
 course ye would " 
 
 "Melody?" Quickly Jimmy anticipated him. 
 
 Hanlon nodded heavily, and led the way to the
 
 MELODY 181 
 
 table near the window of the larger room, which 
 overlooked the river. 
 
 "She died last night," he explained shortly. "She s 
 been dying for three years." But with his next words 
 he had gone back through the years to that last 
 Imorning when they had sat there together. "Ten 
 days they gave her," he went on, "but twas not the 
 servin av them that made the change in her, for no 
 matter how she changed in other ways and I ve 
 never known man or woman so altered in so little 
 time she never stopped hatin thim. 
 
 "She gave up her job in the Palace. She stuck to 
 her room day and night, exceptin when she came 
 down to meals. And it was a week before I learned 
 what she was doin . Are ye remimberin the old 
 writin machine ye left to cover certain arrears in 
 board?" 
 
 Jimmy smiled and bowed his head. 
 
 "She was learnin the manipulation av that," 
 Pegleg told him, "and certain pothooks she made by 
 the ream. She spoke no explanation, mind you, and 
 I nor no one else questioned her, for though her 
 voice had become quiet, the black eyes av her never 
 grew any meeker. Three months there was av that, 
 and then she set out walkin the streets, lookin for 
 a job." 
 
 Hanlon stopped there a moment. The expression 
 on Jimmy s face baffled him. The quiet man seemed 
 very like the taciturn boy whom he had known, and
 
 1 82 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 yet there was a different quality behind his silence. 
 
 "Can ye imagine her lookin for a job in this 
 town?" he went on. "Can ye imagine what it would 
 be like if if ye were to try that thing? Then ye can 
 picture well enough, can t ye, the reception she got? 
 Some av thim wouldn t let her inside their offices 
 they shut the doors in her face. And others, well, 
 they smiled, knowin like, and thim she left before 
 they d had a chance to speak. 
 
 "But she kept at it a week, or maybe two. And 
 then I did what I d have done at first had I been 
 thinkin instead av feelin sorry for her. I tipped off 
 Bauman that he needed a stenographer bad, and he 
 offered her a job. Twas too late then, av course. 
 She just laughed; she knew that Bauman was my 
 man. She told him she d decided the work was too 
 confinin , anyhow. Two days later she cleaned up 
 the machine until it was bright as a new penny, and 
 quit town. 
 
 "She come back two weeks ago, lad, and nobody 
 with eyes needed to think she d been makin her livin 
 runnin a typewriter. I found her on the street 
 myself, out in front av the Palace. She didn t seem 
 to remimber very much clearly, but she knew me. 
 And she was thin ! Afther just wan look at the color 
 in her cheeks, I didn t have to ask questions. I 
 knew oh, I knew well enough ! 
 
 "She said she d come back to explain to Judge 
 Jameson just how it all had happened. Ye see, she d
 
 MELODY 183 
 
 forgotten some five years or so forgotten thim 
 completely and that was merciful was it not? 
 She had to put Jameson right, else they d be chasin 
 you out of the city; and I promised her that if she d 
 wait until mornin I d go with her, for that was the 
 only way I could persuade her to rest at all. 
 
 "And then then, next mornin she d forgotten 
 that. She was talkin av places and people, and cool 
 water and green hills things that she d known 
 before ever we knew her. And that that was the 
 way she died last night. She just walked out over the 
 hills, Jimmy, into the mornin . 
 
 "The doctors called it delirium, but who are they, 
 that they should be so sure ? Tell Mr. Gordon about 
 the lilies of the valley, she said to me, easy and sure 
 and content. I like them best. He ll take care of 
 everything. And there she lay, smilin up at me, 
 knowin and glad that she was to go. I want it to 
 be just like other girls. I wish I could wait till he 
 gets back. I wish I could tell him I didn t stop to 
 think that it would cause him trouble. But I can t 
 I ve never been so tired in all my life 
 
 The waiter with the expressionless face and the 
 patch of white apron across his thighs had cleared 
 the table between them long before Pegleg finished. 
 
 The older man sat watching the kindly smile 
 which hovered over Jimmy s lips after he was 
 through. 
 
 "She wondered," he hesitated, "if twould be too
 
 1 84 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 imuch to ask." And suddenly he was wondering how 
 much of the boy was left in the man before him. 
 "I m thinkin I could care for it all meself, if 
 if " 
 
 Jimmy rose and moved to the window. Until then 
 Hanlon had not noticed that the boy s hair was 
 streaked gray as his own behind the temples. 
 
 "I ll be back in a little while," said Jimmy, slowly. 
 "You can buy a plot with money. I ll be back in a 
 little while." 
 
 The news spread swiftly that morning, and since it 
 is an axiom that bad news always does, it is to be 
 assumed that Warchester looked upon James 
 Gordon s homecoming as anything but good tidings. 
 As yet, it had not reached the white cottage near the 
 Latham hedge when Jimmy turned his face toward 
 that district which lay up on the hill. 
 
 The Reverend Watson Duncan was busy in his 
 study; Mrs. Duncan had breakfasted in bed, and the 
 maid who answered the bell was uncertain, but she 
 ushered the visitor in. 
 
 Mr. Dodge s recognition of the wanderer had 
 been a thing of degrees, though more or less voluble. 
 Mr. Duncan recognized his step-son instantly, but 
 he did not speak at all. Jimmy made no move to 
 seat himself, yet his was the greater ease. 
 
 "I m sorry," the old drawling note of apology was 
 uppermost, "I m sorry to interrupt." 
 
 Mr. Duncan maintained a stony silence. He had
 
 MELODY 185 
 
 changed but little since Jimmy last had seen him; 
 his parishioners still took pride in their dapper 
 shepherd. Standing before the desk, with its orderly 
 litter, as simply as a stranger might have done it, 
 and as impersonally, Jimmy repeated Pegleg 
 Hanlon s story, but he knew before he began that a 
 stranger would have had a better chance of success. 
 Yet his voice remained grave and somehow gentle. 
 His very quietness goaded Mr. Duncan to speech. 
 
 "Do I infer correctly," he demanded, "that you 
 are requesting me to preach this woman s funeral 
 service?" 
 
 When he left Hanlon s place Jimmy had been 
 uncertain. He told himself he wanted to be sure. 
 "I thought perhaps you would," he said, "if you 
 
 were to understand " But he was sure now. He 
 
 made a gesture, stiff and singularly hopeless. 
 
 And the reverend gentleman beat upon the table 
 with his fist. 
 
 "I understand, all too well," he replied, and his 
 voice was edged. "Young man, it is you yourself 
 who lacks understanding of just what you request. 
 Six years ago you were allowed to depart from this 
 community without the stigma which a well-merited 
 punishment would have left upon you. What your 
 life has been in the interim I do not know, nor is 
 it material in this matter. But I tell you that you 
 will find your situation again intolerable if you mean, 
 as your conduct would indicate, to remain here and
 
 1 86 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 resume your former associations. What you have 
 asked is an affront to me, and to society, which has 
 drawn a dead-line which must be maintained. You 
 refer to the occurrence as pitiful. I can only reply 
 yours is a perverted point of view. If that is all, then 
 you ll excuse me, I am sure." 
 
 Jimmy Gordon found his way outside. He 
 stumbled a little blindly on the threshold, and as he 
 turned down the street he heard a gasp behind the 
 drawn curtains of an upstairs window. Until that 
 instant it had not occurred to him to inquire concern 
 ing the state of his mother s health. 
 
 Four times that morning he rang other clergymen s 
 bells. Four time he repeated, more and more briefly, 
 the request which he had carried first to his 
 stepfather. In each instance his appearance 
 occasioned vast surprise and some little consternation 
 until he admitted that he had already seen Mr. 
 Duncan. Thereupon, unfailingly, there ensued a 
 relieved reference to Mr. Duncan s seniority, and a 
 polite but final refusal. 
 
 Jimmy s voice became quieter with failure, his 
 jmanner more and more apologetic. He gave up 
 when he had exhausted those four possibilities. And 
 he scarcely saw the barouche with the plum-colored 
 cushions which swept past him as he rounded the 
 corner into Main Street, clanging now and cluttered 
 with traffic. But T. Elihu Banks saw him. The 
 Reverend Watson Duncan was riding at Mr. Banks s
 
 MELODY 187 
 
 side. And the face of the town s great man was a 
 deeper purple than the cushions upon which he sat. 
 
 Again Pegleg and Jimmy sought the table in the 
 window. 
 
 "I should have known better," Jimmy s voice was 
 hard. "I would have let you go, only I thought I 
 might be mistaken, after all. I thought perhaps " 
 
 Pegleg cut him short with savage abruptness. 
 
 " An I would have," he shot back. "I would 
 have, without your suggestin it, only I wanted you to 
 learn firsthand something which ye would not have 
 believed, had I told it to you six years ago. You were 
 always sure that twas yourself that was the wrong 
 wan. And for six years ye ve been Heaven knows 
 where, but ye seem not to have learned yer lesson. 
 Pf ah ! Tis a Christian and charitable and forgivin 
 community, is it not, that could not risk the burial ay 
 wan child without fearin defilement? Ye d not have 
 listened to me. Now open yer eyes and look about 
 ye. This is your own home town ! Ye can go now 
 and see about the flowers." 
 
 The dreariness was gone from Jimmy s face when 
 he returned a second time. And Pegleg was waiting 
 for him with a huge car at the head of the alley. 
 Pegleg handled the wheel like a mariner accustomed 
 to vast expanses in which to navigate, and almost 
 immediately they left the dust of the city behind them 
 for the cleaner dirt road of the country. As they 
 passed the cemetery, high on a ridge, Hanlon jerked
 
 1 88 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 his thumb toward its highest knoll, cut by the dirt of 
 a new trench. 
 
 Ten miles out of town, at a crossroads chapel, the 
 machine was stopped. Hanlon shouted to the man 
 who was hoeing in the garden behind a house on the 
 opposite side of the highway. The shirt-sleeved one 
 seemed to know Hanlon and, stranger still, to value 
 his friendship. 
 
 "At ten-thirty," he promised gravely, when Pegleg 
 had told him their need. 
 
 Back at Hanlon s, when he went upstairs to the 
 room which had been his once before for a brief 
 tenancy, Jimmy found Abel Thompson busy 
 unpacking a trunk and smoothing out his clothes. 
 True to the dramatic instinct of his race, Abel wore 
 a heavy air of mourning, though this had not 
 prevented him from noticing both the quality and 
 cut of Jimmy s wardrobe. He was shaking out a suit 
 of homespun with much admiration when Jimmy 
 entered. 
 
 "Afternoon, seh," Abel greeted him. "Afternoon, 
 Mist Gordon. Jes layin out your things, seh. If 
 they s anything wrong, bet jes tell me at first, seh. 
 Somethin nice and quiet and da k-colored, I s pose, 
 seh, fob to-morrow." 
 
 Jimmy thanked him abstractedly. He was thinking 
 about his legacy, title, property and good-will, of 
 which Hanlon had apprised him on the ride into the 
 country. At the time he scarcely noticed the
 
 MELODY 189 
 
 subdued quality of Abel s greeting, which he would 
 have laid to the need for "something quiet" under the 
 circumstances. Later, he realized that Abel had in 
 that moment announced himself as general man and 
 valet, a position which he continued to fill in the days 
 that followed. 
 
 They buried the girl known as Melody the next 
 morning, from the large room downstairs. Jimmy 
 sat far to the back during the service, his eyes upon 
 the face of Blair, the young minister. He nodded 
 to many who entered and gave him an uncertain nod 
 of greeting; and then, little by little, he forgot 
 entirely the odd crowd that filled the room. 
 
 Blair spoke briefly, quietly, and with little gesture. 
 He did not preach at all; he just talked talked 
 simply. "Let him who is without sin among you be 
 the first to cast a stone," he read from the Bible 
 before him, and then he closed the book to tell them 
 how little of real hopelessness there was in their 
 world, how much of simple honesty and fairness and 
 honor. 
 
 Listening, Jimmy forgot even himself. Nothing 
 remained definite except the voice of the speaker and 
 an intolerable ache in his own throat. They had 
 finished singing that motley crowd of men who had 
 come in celluloid collars and bunchy coats, and 
 women with faces startlingly innocent of color they 
 had filed out, and Jimmy was still standing, marveling 
 at the tenseness of those voices in song, when a hand
 
 1 90 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 touched his shoulder, and he turned slowly around. 
 
 He knew her at the touch, even before he wheeled. 
 He stood and gazed, without knowing how white and 
 strained were his lips, upon the infinite compassion 
 in Carol Landis s face. And suddenly he found his 
 mouth too dry for words. 
 
 The pressure of her hand upon his shoulder drew 
 him to the aisle. 
 
 "I want to go in your carriage, Jimmy," she 
 imurmured, "if I may." 
 
 And Warchester, at noon that day, knew a 
 sensation even greater than the passing of the girl 
 called Melody. They saw Jimmy Gordon bring 
 "their own Miss Landis" back to the cottage at the 
 foot of the orchard, in a decrepit public hack, after 
 the funeral. They noted that she leaned toward him 
 and laughed and chattered, and seemed to find great 
 interest in his plainly embarrassed replies. Once she 
 put a hand over the long, thin one which lay between 
 them on the broken upholstery that happened just 
 as T. Elihu Banks chanced again to pass, with a deep 
 bow for her and a flourish. 
 
 Jimmy took her home. The rest of the afternoon 
 he sat on an iron bench in the stone court behind 
 Pegleg Hanlon s place the bench nearest the 
 sluggish, oil-besmeared river. And Hanlon saw him 
 still there, motionless, when he came downstairs in 
 the morning. More than that, he found Abel 
 Thompson, the gentleman of color, head bowed on
 
 MELODY 191 
 
 the sill, asleep at the window which overlooked the 
 court. 
 
 Abel he shook awake, but the latter became 
 evasive to a degree at the first question. 
 
 "I dunno what I se doin heah," he replied airily. 
 "Jes jes settin , I guess, and kinda f Jl asleep." 
 
 Hanlon s eyes were keen. At that moment he saw 
 Jimmy pick up a fragment of concrete and toss it far 
 out into the water, but there was nothing of discour 
 agement in the action. 
 
 "There wasn t any need of it," Hanlon said 
 gruffly. Don t you know I d have been watchin if 
 there had been? Go down and tell Tivotson to get 
 around to his office tell him Gordon s in town." 
 
 Abel s black face shone again with its accustomed 
 depth of color. Immediately he rose and went to 
 carry out the order. And Hanlon was waiting 
 unconcernedly when Jimmy came in at eight. 
 
 "I wonder where I can find Tivotson?" the latter 
 asked, without preamble. "I want to talk things over 
 with him. Yesterday s edition, and I only glanced at 
 it, was about the worst thing that ever came out of a 
 press." 
 
 A pulse of triumph shot across Hanlon s face. 
 His grip crushed the slighter man s shoulders. 
 
 "You re goin to stick," he roared. "You re goin 
 to stick ! Now, by God, we ll show thim some civic 
 reform." 
 
 Abel, that morning, proved himself capable of
 
 192 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 greater speed than anyone hitherto had been led to 
 believe was in him. He found Tivotson and delivered 
 his message with a crispness that left that soiled and 
 unshaven city editor speechless. On his way back 
 he paused at the front of the Palace Theater to 
 tender his resignation. There was only one attache 
 about at that hour, one of Abel s own assistants, a 
 razor-back, but Abel, nevertheless, discharged the 
 formality with considerable pomp and a shade of 
 mystery. 
 
 "I m affiliatin m self with one of our risin young 
 business men," was all he deigned to explain; and he 
 had the homespun laid out when Jimmy Gordon 
 finished his shaving. 
 
 Abel suggested a carnation for the buttonhole and 
 chuckled as Jimmy, rather blankly, refused. And 
 then, in spite of the fact that he must needs go by a 
 longer way around, Abel outstripped his employer, 
 and arrived first at the disreputable block which 
 housed the Courier. And he had finished scrubbing 
 the uneven boards of the lower hallway and the 
 stairs before T. Elihu Banks arrived that morning. 
 
 Abel noted that T. Elihu breathed hard as he 
 conducted him up the flight to the door of the 
 editorial rooms, and ushered him in. It was a half- 
 hour before the gentleman of color came out of his 
 resultant trance and remembered the pail downstairs.
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 TIVOTSON 
 
 IF Jimmy Gordon had entertained high hopes 
 concerning the financial or physical state of his 
 heritage, the Courier, the first half-hour spent 
 in the editorial room with Tivotson would have 
 dispelled them, just as effectually as did his first sight 
 of the room itself convince him that, for the moment, 
 the premises were in far greater need of Abel 
 Thompson s mop and pail than all the brilliance 
 which the pen of a journalist new-fired with zeal 
 might be supposed to bring. 
 
 Tivotson, the "city editor," had preceded the new 
 owner of the paper by only a matter of minutes that 
 morning, and Jimmy found him gazing aimlessly 
 about the littered room, obviously struck for the first 
 time in months by its mad confusion, and worried in 
 a half-sober, wholly lugubrious way by the cobwebs 
 and dust and dirt. He greeted the new proprietor s 
 entrance in a manner just as uncertain, for he kept 
 his bloodshot eyes furtively averted and made no 
 move toward offering his hand. Tivotson s opinion 
 of his own stewardship for many years had not been 
 large, but the realization of his neglect, suddenly 
 forced upon his notice, twenty-four hours before he 
 
 193
 
 194 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 had achieved his usual weekly sobriety, appalled him. 
 
 "We re a little upset here this morning, Mr. 
 Gordon," he husked from a dry throat. We weren t 
 looking for you, just at present." 
 
 Jimmy closed the door and followed his city 
 editor s gaze about the room. It occurred to him 
 that Tivotson was stating the case mildly there was 
 scarcely a foot of floor or wall that was clean but he 
 found more to interest him in the little, shambling 
 figure before him than he did in the heaped-up 
 debris. 
 
 "A little soap and water, Tivotson," he laughed 
 softly, "and we ll work a miracle." He stopped to 
 gaze absently at the other s hawklike face. "And 
 perhaps that ll serve just as well, for a time," he 
 went on, musingly. "Because we know we can 
 achieve cleanliness, and and I m afraid that it ll 
 be quite a long time before we can convince a good 
 many that godliness is not beyond us, eh?" 
 
 The slow question, tinged with whimsical humor, 
 brought Tivotson s head up in spite of him. Besides 
 Abel Thompson, who temperamentally was unfitted 
 to accept Jimmy s return as anything but a triumph 
 ant reentry of the city of his youth, Tivotson was 
 perhaps the only soul in the town who had been 
 fitted by circumstance to sense the change that eight 
 years had wrought in the returned prodigal. 
 Tivotson s descent had been slow, and 
 correspondingly sure. Eight years before he, too,
 
 TIVOTSON 195 
 
 had prophesied dire things for Jimmy Gordon ; now 
 he flushed painfully, when he found the latter 
 smiling down at him in a fashion as fraternal as the 
 spirit of his words. It was a long time since any one 
 had held out a hand to Tivotson, except casually 
 now and then, to prevent him from stumbling and 
 fetching up in the gutter, which as a general rule 
 ultimately proved his destination anyhow. 
 
 Tivotson flushed, and shook hands. And Jimmy, 
 noting how hard he tried to control his twitching lids 
 and stiffen his slack shoulders, gave no sign that he 
 saw. Instead he cleared a space on a desk, one that 
 overlooked the upper end of Front Street, seated 
 himself and motioned the little man to a place be 
 hind what was plainly the city editor s table. 
 
 "Our first conference, Tivotson," he laughed 
 again, and tilted his lean length far back in his chair. 
 "Now, what are our precepts and policies?" 
 
 At that abrupt question Tivotson s none too tight 
 mouth fell open, until he was made aware, this time 
 by the light in his employer s eyes, that again the 
 latter spoke lightly and with facetious intent. 
 Thereupon he, too, seemed to find in the situation 
 something at which to be amused, though his 
 amusement was grimmer by far. 
 
 "Total and eternal damnation," he made answer. 
 "Having been damned, without reservation or hope 
 of redemption, since the beginning of the book, we
 
 196 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 damn, with equally cheerful unanimity, the works of 
 those who reap the rewards of righteousness." 
 
 But instead of laughing, Jimmy only smiled ever 
 so quietly as he gave that answer a moment of 
 thought. Tivotson s hot eyes were upon him 
 questioningly when he looked up, grave of a sudden. 
 
 "Believe in this sweeping damnation, as you term 
 it, Tivotson?" he asked musingly. 
 
 Tivotson sat and stared hard at his superior. It 
 was eight years since old Dave Landis had occupied 
 that chair, eight years since good-for-nothing Jimmy 
 Gordon had been driven out of town by the weight 
 of public opinion. And while there was a change in 
 him, hard to define but very certain, in that moment 
 Tivotson found the boy s mildness unaltered. 
 
 "I believe in my own," he startled himself by the 
 words. Then he gave way to a singularly hopeless 
 gesture. "When a whole town has been telling you 
 that you re no good, for as long as you can 
 remember, you have to believe finally, don t you?" 
 
 Jimmy spent some time over the process of firing 
 a cigarette. 
 
 "Do you?" he asked then, very quietly. "That s 
 what I ve been wondering or does it, sometimes, 
 depend upon the town, as well as the individual? 
 Because I was almost convinced, eight years ago, 
 Tivotson, just as you are almost convinced now. 
 Almost, I put it, do you understand? Yet there s 
 one fine thing about being at the bottom of a well,
 
 TIVOTSON 197 
 
 Tivotson. One can t fall any farther." He paused 
 and seemed to treat his next words inconsequentially. 
 "May I have a look at the records, if you have any 
 available? I d like to know just how badly things 
 stand." 
 
 For a moment Tivotson did not move. He sat with 
 his lips moving wordlessly, as if repeating the other s 
 words in a desperate effort to be sure of their 
 meaning. Then he rose and with a wry smile 
 brought a list of paid-in subscribers, and a statement 
 of accounts payable and bills due. The latter Jimmy 
 laid aside after a brief scrutiny; he knew that Pegleg 
 was a business man. And he had picked up the 
 record sheet of subscribers to whom the Courier was 
 delivered each day, his own expression had waxed 
 lugubrious in the extreme at its leanness, when T. 
 Elihu Banks, ushered up-stairs by Abel, appeared 
 that morning in the doorway. So it was coincidence 
 as trivial as that which established the key of an 
 interview which was to prove epochal in Warchester s 
 history. 
 
 For T. Elihu, as he padded across the threshold, 
 was quick to see that look of concerned incredulity 
 and faint dismay, and it was not unlike him to lay it 
 entirely to the unexpected honor of his presence. 
 Indeed, it helped to clear his own face of a heaviness 
 as close akin to anxiety as he ever permitted himself 
 to exhibit in public. Jimmy Gordon, the town s 
 returned reprobate looked somewhat aghast. The
 
 198 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 town s great man permitted himself to smile. But 
 there was real reason for astonishment in the quality 
 of the latter s greeting. 
 
 "Keep your seat, young man," he boomed, as 
 Jimmy made to rise. "Keep your seat. A busy man 
 can t spend half his time jumping up, whenever ever" 
 Tom, Dick and Harry enters his office." 
 
 But Jimmy straightened his long length and came 
 out from behind his desk. In rising he made it very 
 easy for T. Elihu to see that his tweeds, while not 
 unnecessarily shabby, were nevertheless lacking in 
 that spruce newness which was typical of 
 Warchester s younger business men who had 
 achieved success, and advertised it personally. And 
 it seems inconceivable that T. Elihu could have failed 
 to notice, for his gaze, which darted from point to 
 point, was all embracing. Yet T. Elihu was holding 
 out a hand, again to Tivotson s unutterable amaze 
 ment. Jimmy swept the room with a brief gesture, 
 and in that instant his manner was falteringly 
 apologetic that old, old air of perpetual apology 
 which until then had escaped Tivotson and vaguely 
 baffled him. Then the prodigal was shaking hands 
 with the town s great man. T. Elihu covered the 
 boy s hand with his free, left palm. 
 
 "We re very badly unsettled here, just at present, 
 Mr. Banks," he repeated Tivotson s apology. But 
 there he dared to smile uncertainly. 
 
 "I find if one leans against anything, one acquires
 
 TIVOTSON 199 
 
 immediately a veneer of cobwebs and whitewash. 
 And in asking you to be seated, I beg that you exercise 
 some care. The furniture is not to be trusted." 
 
 T. Elihu paid so little attention to this levity that 
 it is very possible that he did not hear it at all. 
 Instead, he stood frowning fiercely into the boy s thin 
 and familiar face, searching it keenly, yet with a 
 ponderous good-nature, for the fierceness was 
 feigned. 
 
 "So you ve come back again, have you, young 
 man!" He finally shot the words out. "Back to 
 Warchester! Any objection to my asking why?" 
 
 At that point Jimmy grew conscious of the fact 
 that T. Elihu had not released his hand, and 
 displayed no symptom that he might do so, in the 
 next moment or two. And suddenly the thin face 
 turned red. 
 
 "I m afraid," he hesitated, "in view of the fashion 
 in which I left it, the only answer possible is obvious 
 to you. I went away, you ll remember well, under 
 a cloud is the phrase, isn t it?" His smile was 
 quickly disarming. "And it s my own home town, 
 you know, after all so " 
 
 T. Elihu gave the imprisoned hand a spasmodic 
 shake clearly indicative of supreme satisfaction, and 
 sought a chair. 
 
 "Thought so," he growled. "Thought so! Sit 
 down sit down!" And, after he had drawn up 
 nearer the desk: "I want to talk to you, sir plainly,
 
 200 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 sir, I am a plain man. That s what I dropped in 
 for, and if you ve any objections well, you re a 
 nephew of mine, young man, and one has to be more 
 or less charitable toward one s presumptuous 
 relatives." 
 
 Astonishment flickered in Jimmy Gordon s eyes at 
 this further peculiarity. He caught it mirrored upon 
 the visage of Tivotson, who sat like a man turned to 
 stone. And then he was smiling again, his thin, not 
 very mirthful smile. But obediently he sat down. 
 
 "In the first place," T. Elihu s bright eyes never 
 left Jimmy s face, "in the first place, sir, I want to tell 
 you that yesterday you did a damned fine thing, sir. 
 A splendid and noble thing!" 
 
 The blankness that spread across Jimmy s face was 
 not feigned. 
 
 "I m afraid that you ve made a " he began. 
 
 T. Elihu cut him short. 
 
 "No mistake at all," he stated flatly. "None at all! 
 Duncan told me late last evening of this unfortunate 
 young person whose funeral you arranged, and it s 
 that occurrence which brought me here this morning. 
 Of course, the request which you made of your 
 stepfather was out of the question, sir out of the 
 question, as you no doubt will agree, upon maturer 
 thought. But the spirit behind your act warrants 
 commendation, sir. You braved the opinion of an 
 entire community to act according to your convictions. 
 And when I know that a man has done that I need no
 
 TIVOTSON 201 
 
 further credentials. Since you have already 
 mentioned an unfortunate occurrence of some years 
 ago, I, too, will speak of it, though such was not my 
 intention when I entered. You made a mistake 
 common to youth, sir I am older than you and you 
 will forgive my effrontery, if you find it such. You 
 cr chose many unfortunate associates, harmless, 
 perhaps yet most desirable in the eyes of our " 
 
 "I understand," Jimmy interrupted him. "That is 
 one of the things I hope to do. I I owe it to myself 
 to set myself right with our " he barely hesitated 
 "with our best people." 
 
 T. Elihu bowed profoundly. 
 
 "And in the pursuance of your enterprise here," he 
 ventured, "you have already decided upon a definite 
 policy." 
 
 Some of the perplexity went from the eyes of the 
 new proprietor of the Courier. Diffidence before T. 
 Elihu s surpassing greatness seemed to stride upon, 
 him. 
 
 "None yet," he murmured. "Mr. Tivotson tells 
 me that we have for some time been content with 
 mechanically supplying the opposition to any question 
 of public importance which may arise. I have no 
 policy yet, but we ll try, I think, to print a paper 
 which will make as direct an appeal to the working 
 people as the Gazette does to Warchester s better 
 classes." 
 
 "A decidedly far-sighted view," T. Elihu set his
 
 202 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 seal of vast approval upon the scheme in one 
 explosive utterance. "And now I want to tell you, 
 sir, that when a man starts a fresh page, I am not the 
 one to delve back through the records. The years 
 have improved you, sir vastly vastly! And you 
 have returned to Warchester at a time when 
 opportunity never was so insistent. We shall want 
 you with us, young man will want you to join us 
 Wainwright and myself, and Willetts, and yes, even 
 Jameson." 
 
 He held up a hand as Jimmy attempted to 
 interrupt. 
 
 "I know," he expostulated. "You need attempt no 
 explanation, my boy. You are a free agent ; you have 
 under your direction an instrument of publicity, the 
 course of which you must dictate as you deem best. 
 But there are many factions, many questions of 
 exceeding importance with which I believe it will be 
 advisable for you to familiarize yourself, before you 
 act. Whenever you are free for dinner, young man, 
 I want to talk politics with you." 
 
 T. Elihu rose heavily to his feet. The queer smile 
 had left Jimmy s lips. 
 
 "But I " he said. 
 
 "You re busy now," T. Elihu cut in. "You ll have 
 more leisure presently. Come when you can." 
 
 And with that Jimmy s eyes grew quizzical. 
 
 "I ll take pleasure in doing so," he said, " later, 
 if you still care to have me."
 
 
 TIVOTSON 203 
 
 In the doorway T. Elihu paused. Sufficient time 
 had elapsed to cover any seeming connection between 
 this next remark and his expressions of good wishes. 
 
 "You ve work on your hands," he said, u and I take 
 it, sir, that the attempted rejuvenation of this 
 property is not exactly a sentimental or philanthropic 
 venture on your part. If you need references, call 
 on me." He turned to wink jovially. "I ll tell them 
 that you re the town s lost dog come back again but 
 I ll put you in right. You ll be busy, but if you want a 
 card to any of the clubs, let me know. They tell me 
 that the young folks golf all day and dance till 
 morning. And when you re a bit better settled 
 come and see me, young man." 
 
 After T. Elihu had gone, Jimmy, who had 
 returned to his desk without a word, sat so long, lean 
 chin in his hands, gazing blankly out of the window 
 that Tivotson, at first too dumfounded to ask the 
 question that was hanging upon his lips, grew thirsty 
 with a great thirst as noon came about, until he was 
 hard put to keep his own place behind his littered 
 table. He dared not move while the other figure 
 remained so silent. And yet Jimmy was aware of 
 Tivotson s growing lack of self-control. He heard 
 the restlessly moving feet and caught, from the 
 corners of his eyes, glimpses of the white and 
 harassed face. It was Tivotson about whom Jimmy 
 was thinking most in that long period of quiet. 
 
 "I ll want you to lunch with me," he finally
 
 204 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 addressed that shabby, small person with kindly 
 abruptness, "with me and Pegleg Hanlon. Do you 
 mind?." 
 
 The city editor s countenance, white and hawklike 
 and angular, underwent a remarkable series of 
 changes. It became furtive and cunning, and then 
 sullen, and then openly perplexed. But he reached 
 for his hat with some alacrity. Any company was 
 acceptable to Tivotson at that moment, in any 
 hostelry, if only the service promised to be prompt; 
 and he was in no mood for analysis. 
 
 When Jimmy presented him, an unnecessary 
 formality, to the grizzled proprietor of the hotel 
 that stood in the hollow square, the little man s dry- 
 lipped eagerness prevented him from noticing that 
 Pegleg s welcome was inscrutable. He was casting 
 about for a waiter. And he had achieved partial 
 control of his nerves and was turning a not 
 unamiable eye upon the food before him, when. 
 Jimmy reached in his discourse with Hanlon the 
 question which Pegleg was waiting to hear. 
 
 "So he has made me an offer for my support, 
 Pegleg," he said. "Now I want you to tell me why 
 he s been four times mayor of Warchester tell 
 me why he shouldn t represent us at the capital. Not 
 personal reasons, Pegleg. How much do you know ?" 
 
 Pegleg shot an uncordial glance at Tivotson, who 
 had straightened in his chair. Then he laughed, 
 hoarsely.
 
 TIVOTSON 205 
 
 "Not personal reasons, is it?" he growled. "I 
 mustn t complain, I nor none av the rest av us, who 
 have tried to stay within the law. Thin I ll not, till 
 ye learn that no man is a good citizen until he casts 
 his vote for a personal reason. I ll tell ye instead to 
 find where the money for the Main Street paving 
 wint. I ll ask ye how it came about that Wainwright 
 and Banks and Jameson came to own the acres they 
 did, a month before the franchise for the new line to 
 the north wint through? I ll ask ye why " upon 
 Pegleg s baleful face there came a look of swift 
 recollection. "Do ye remimber wan Whitey 
 Garritty?" he demanded. "The wan with no blood 
 in his skin, the night " 
 
 Jimmy nodded quickly. He was watching Tivotson 
 while seeming to have eyes only for Hanlon, and the 
 city editor s face was full of the keenest interest. 
 
 "He wint away the same night that ye seen fit to 
 remove yerself," Hanlon s smile was little removed 
 from a snarl, "but he s been back more frequent. An 
 he s here now, on bail, fer a job that would keep him 
 busy for the next ten years, in anny other court. But 
 Garritty is a clever man. If ye ll have naught to do 
 with personal reasons, ask district-attorney Jameson 
 why his case will be dismissed oh, in six months, or 
 so?" 
 
 Pegleg finished half incoherent with rage, yet 
 Jimmy s acceptance of his complaints was almost 
 casual.
 
 2o6 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 "Maybe," he mused in reply. "How are you 
 going to prove it, Hanlon, if it s true? It s one thing 
 to ask where the money for that paving job went 
 Tivotson, here, tells me we ve been asking just such 
 questions for the last half dozen years but it s 
 another thing to be able to tell. You insist that there 
 was a split-up between the electric crowd and the 
 administration, but it s another thing to prove it, > 
 isn t that true, Tivotson?" 
 
 For one instant Pegleg had forgotten to glower 
 with rage. He was listening almost breathlessly. 
 Twice the little city editor licked his lips and set his 
 jaw, as Jimmy s hand fell intimately upon his elbow. 
 And then he reached uneasily for the bottle. 
 
 "A fine chance," exclaimed Tivotson, and his gasp 
 of relief was all out of proportion to the size of the 
 drink which he presently consumed. "A fine chance 
 of ever getting anything on that bunch." 
 
 Pegleg Hanlon sat and drummed on the table and 
 stared at his plate. There was a hint of disappoint 
 ment in Hanlon s attitude quite as obvious as the 
 city editor s bland self-satisfaction. But Jimmy 
 Gordon appeared far from displeased with the 
 interview, which terminated there, more abruptly 
 than it had begun. 
 
 On the way back to the office Tivotson elaborated 
 volubly upon the iniquitous cleverness of the party in 
 power which argued against their ever being haled 
 to justice. He wagged his head over the matter, and
 
 TIVOTSON 207 
 
 waxed out of breath, for he was hard put to it to keep 
 pace with Jimmy s long stride. 
 
 It was not a great distance from Hanlon s to the 
 Courier office, but it was the hour most favored for 
 lunch by a large portion of Warchester s representa 
 tive citizens, and more than once Jimmy had reason 
 to suspect that already T. Elihu Banks had passed 
 that way. Yet he found more amusement in the 
 bearing of the little man beside him, than he did in 
 the exceeding cordiality of the greetings which 
 featured his passage that morning. And when he 
 realized suddenly that Tivotson was the only one 
 whom he could remember, who had evinced an open 
 and aggressive pride in his companionship, he slipped 
 one hand inside his city editor s elbow. Nor was 
 this a part of the effort in which he and Pegleg had 
 collaborated at lunch. Already he was certain of 
 how much Tivotson knew. He was remembering how 
 hungrily he had once watched the principals strut 
 across the stage, and wondered at his own 
 insignificance. To Tivotson he was a principal now. 
 He felt sorry for the little man. 
 
 It was two hours after he reached the office of 
 tRe Courier before Jimmy looked up from the task 
 to which he set himself as soon as he had reached his 
 desk. Tivotson had been watching him, curiously, 
 while he worked, and the latter crossed with some 
 haste to take the sheets of closely written copy which 
 Jimmy held out to him.
 
 208 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 "To-morrow s issue?" he asked, though the 
 question was a mere matter of form. 
 
 Jimmy s brisk nod made him start. 
 
 "Six o clock extra," the new owner of the Courier 
 replied. "Run it front page, scare-heads. I want 
 every man who passes a news-stand to see and read 
 the head-lines." 
 
 Thereupon Tivotson set himself to read, but he 
 was aghast before he had encompassed a single 
 paragraph. 
 
 "You re going to^run this?" he stammered. 
 
 Jimmy Gordon had drawn a dog-eared manu 
 script from his pocket and was eying it strangely. 
 His answer was anything but animated. 
 
 "Just as it stands, please," he said pleasantly. 
 
 Tivotson s very body seemed to shrink. 
 
 "Why, good Lord!" he breathed. "That why, 
 if you ever try to get into his house, after printing 
 that he he ll throw you out." 
 
 "I hope he does," said Jimmy cheerfully. "If I 
 ever try to, I hope he does." 
 
 The city editor had trouble with his speech. 
 
 "But he he offered you," he managed, and then 
 became inarticulate. 
 
 "An entree into the very best circles, Tivotson, 
 wasn t it social and financial?" Jimmy had turned 
 and was speaking quickly as though he dared not 
 pause, lest he lose an opportunity for which he had 
 been waiting. "Do you know, once I think I d almost
 
 TIVOTSON 209 
 
 have sold out. On my honor, I believe I would, had 
 they given me the chance; but not now, Tivotson. 
 That s where T. Elihu made his mistake he waited 
 too long. You see, Tivotson, I m no longer sure that 
 they are the best people. Don t look so horrified, 
 man. We ll keep it a secret, and my opinion is only 
 my own. I guess I must be a black sheep at heart." 
 
 But Jimmy smiled over the confession; he 
 continued to smile after Tivotson had gone from the 
 room to give orders for the first extra that the paper 
 had run in years. And he was leading slowly through 
 the blue-bound first act which once he had carried to 
 Carl Hardy, the ghost of a grin lurking upon his lips, 
 when the city editor returned. Now and then he 
 stopped to stare up Front Street, now and then he 
 paused to make a careful note. Abel Thompson 
 looked in upon him several times, only to retreat, 
 greatly impressed by his employer s preoccupation. 
 And Jimmy had become accustomed to the opening 
 and closing of the door, and gave it no notice when it 
 creaked open, again, a little before four. 
 
 He had reached the first-act curtain, and was 
 nodding absently to himself, the line of his lips faintly 
 suggestive of mockery, when a low voice brought 
 him to his feet. 
 
 "Very nice editors always rise, whenever I enter, 
 Jimmy," it said. 
 
 Carol Landis had come on lighter feet than T. 
 Elihu s. She stood only a pace away, a slender and
 
 210 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 scarcely taller figure than that one which the boy had 
 surprised, years back, before the mirror, in a mad 
 little costume of black. She was in white now, from 
 the panama upon her head, to the high-heeled pumps 
 she wore. 
 
 Once, on that other occasion, Jimmy Gordon had 
 sulked and spoken with masculine ungraciousness 
 concerning her first engagement. And now, as he 
 rose, he was only awkward and embarrassed. Which, 
 after all, was the prettiest compliment that he could 
 have paid her. 
 
 "I didn t hear you enter," he explained soberly. 
 
 Some of the laughter went out of the girl s eyes. 
 T. Elihu Banks scrutiny had been frankly and 
 arrogantly an appraisal. She managed hers with 
 more kindness and more tact, yet he was conscious of 
 it, and of the conclusions at which she arrived. 
 Decidedly hers was the greater ease. 
 
 "There s ink on your cuffs, Jimmy," she 
 admonished him, "and a smudge on your cheek as 
 usual. Go and wash yourself. I want you to take me 
 out to the club to tea." 
 
 The order was reminiscent of other days when his 
 obedience had been ungallant at times, but always 
 more or less certain. From the very inconsequential 
 ring which she contrived to give the command Jimmy 
 knew that she was expecting him to demur. But the 
 thought behind his momentary hesitation was not the 
 one which she suspected.
 
 TIVOTSON 211 
 
 "As your guest, Carol," he said, "if you re sure 
 that you " He broke off there to give way to 
 explanation. "Mr. Banks dropped in this morning to 
 welcome me home. He, too, suggested the club, 
 whenever I cared to avail myself of his kindness. But 
 I m afraid that after five o clock he will have changed 
 his mind. I m afraid that his offer will have been 
 automatically withdrawn." 
 
 She did not understand as thoroughly as she might 
 have, had she read the sheets which Tivotson had 
 carried out, a short time before, to the press-room. 
 But she sensed the depth of his gravity. And when 
 he returned, with the ink-smudge removed from his 
 cheek, he knew that she had been talking with the city 
 editor, even though it was of the dog-eared first act, 
 with its freshly penciled corrections, of which she 
 spoke. 
 
 "It s the one that you took to Carl Hardy, years 
 ago, isn t it?" she asked. 
 
 As he nodded she rolled the script up and tucked 
 it under an arm. 
 
 "I want to read it professionally," she explained. 
 "I m in dire straits for a vehicle, Jimmy."
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 THE "COURIER" PRINTS AN EXTRA 
 
 THAT afternoon Jimmy Gordon learned just 
 how swiftly the news of T. Elihu s visit to 
 the Courier s office had gone abroad. And 
 he was vouchsafed some inkling of the fruits which 
 it might be expected to bear. 
 
 The wide veranda of the Hills Club grew very 
 quiet as he helped "Warchester s own daughter" to 
 alight from the public conveyance which had toiled 
 with them up the long grade, but in the silence there 
 was only a vast curiosity. They stared the half- 
 score of men and girls who sat at wicker tables 
 beneath the striped awnings yet their regard was 
 far from that with which they might have 
 discouraged an interloper. Indeed, there was a 
 certain eagerness upon more than one face, which 
 Carol Landis would have noticed, had she not been 
 thinking only of the man who mounted the steps 
 beside her. 
 
 That afternoon she gave all the skill of which she 
 was capable to the perfection of their entrance, with 
 out even realizing that the stage had already been 
 prepared for just such a scene. Her hand lay upon 
 the prodigal s sleeve as they threaded their way to a 
 
 212
 
 "COURIER" PRINTS AN EXTRA 213 
 
 table tucked back in the corner of the veranda ; she 
 talked blithely and laughed up into his face as he 
 seated her. And it was not until the steward had 
 come and gone that she looked up and learned from 
 the look in his eyes that he knew how hard she had 
 been trying to make it easy for him. 
 
 "I began to know how kind you were, yesterday," 
 he thanked her. "This afternoon the lesson is 
 complete. But I I d rather you didn t feel sorry 
 for me, any longer." His eyes swept the nearer table, 
 meaningly. "Apparently, and I needed no such 
 corroboration, I m a much to be envied man." 
 
 She grew warmly self-conscious at that and then 
 the arrival of Sidney Banks at their table cut short 
 her rejoinder. Sidney had come as rapidly as he was 
 able, direct from the courts. Feet wide-spread, he 
 stood huge and hot and high-colored, and left no one 
 in that vicinity ignorant of the degree or the phrasing 
 of his welcome. More than that, he seated himself 
 and remained until Carol Landis dismissed him, so 
 firmly that he could not maintain longer his jovial 
 refusal to go. And his was the example which the 
 rest followed. Men drifted over from neighboring 
 tables. They stopped on their way from golf-course 
 to refreshment, for a hand-shake and a word or two. 
 But the girl found the expression which settled upon 
 the face of the man across from her at length 
 impossible to be endured in silence. 
 
 "Not in bitterness, Jimmy, boy, I beg you," she
 
 214 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 whispered. "Oh, you haven t forgotten how to 
 laugh!" 
 
 Color stained his cheeks at that. Once or twice 
 before then he had taken his watch from his pocket. 
 He looked up from it now so abruptly that Carol 
 turned to follow his gaze, which had gone beyond 
 her. A car had drawn up in the driveway; a tall and 
 black-haired girl, ineffably cool and possessed, was 
 coming up the steps, bowing crisply to those who 
 called out in greeting. And suddenly Carol found 
 much of interest in the grounds within her cup. 
 
 "Miss Evelyn Latham, Jimmy," she murmured. 
 "But of course you remember. And I shall not mind, 
 very much, if you go over to speak to her if you re 
 not gone too long." 
 
 But Evelyn Latham was already approaching 
 their table, with Lloyd Jameson, fatter even than he 
 had been eight years before and somehow chastened 
 in bearing, following as closely as his bulk would 
 permit. In the tall girl s salute and that of her 
 companion, both Carol and the man to whom they 
 were addressed, found a quality different from those 
 which had gone before. 
 
 "You are Jimmy Gordon, of course." She spoke 
 with exceeding abruptness. "You used to watch me 
 from your window." She laughed coolly as Jimmy 
 flamed red. "I might have been more appreciative 
 once, but" and she stopped to shrug her shoulders. 
 "We re giving a dance to-morrow night for the
 
 "COURIER" PRINTS AN EXTRA 215 
 
 usual crowd. Will you please come, Mr. Gordon." 
 
 She had turned away before he could reply, and 
 was speaking, still with her odd abruptness to Carol. 
 And then Jimmy found Lloyd Jameson facing him. 
 Lloyd s face was shamed. 
 
 "If I were you, Gordon," he said heavily, "and you 
 were me, I suppose I d turn my back upon you. But 
 but maybe you re more generous. I played you 
 very dirty once, but do you mind shaking hands with 
 me and letting me tell you that I m almost as sorry as 
 I am ashamed?" 
 
 Jimmy did not know how to reply, and Evelyn 
 Latham s brusqueness saved him the need. 
 
 "Miss Landis promises to bring you to-morrow 
 night, Mr. Gordon," she said, "if it is possible. 
 Come along, Lloyd. Did I hear you trying to 
 apologize for something again?" 
 
 As directly as she had come, she returned to the 
 car, and in going she left no doubt in the minds of 
 all observers of what her errand had been. There 
 was a maliciously mischievous glint in Carol s eyes 
 after her departure. 
 
 "The fairy princess, Jimmy," she whispered, "so 
 I m afraid that my afternoon is spoiled. She 
 remembered, you see ! I m asking you, tearfully, to 
 take me home." 
 
 His smile was so apologetically like that of the 
 boy she had known in other years that it hurt her. 
 He was looking at his watch again as he rose.
 
 216 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 "There ll be a lot of them who ll have forgotten 
 that they ever knew me by this time to-morrow," he 
 answered whimsically. "There s no coach waiting, 
 Carol not even a pumpkin and I ordered that driver 
 for five. I think if you don t mind walking, perhaps 
 
 This time it was he who broke off to turn and 
 follow the direction of her gaze. Sidney Estabrook 
 Banks had appeared at that instant from within, his 
 face frightfully congested. He took a step in 
 Gordon s direction, and stopped. He would have 
 spoken, and seemed to think better of that impulse 
 and sneered instead. And when he wheeled and 
 spoke rapidly to several who had risen in consterna 
 tion, Carol looked bewilderedly up into Jimmy s face. 
 
 "Do you mind letting me stay?" he asked. 
 
 It was the tall, thin figure in shabby tweeds who 
 contrived a graceful exit, but the face was very white. 
 
 "Not even a pumpkin coach," he murmured again, 
 as they crossed the lawn and cut over the fields 
 toward town. "I stayed too late." He wheeled then, 
 fiercely vehement: "I m sorry." He was breathing 
 hard. "That was humiliating, for you." And then, 
 with an edge to his laughter: "Tivotson s extra must 
 be on the street." 
 
 Half the way home he was so moodily apologetic 
 that she could not rage at him as she had in other 
 years. But when he spoke at length concerning T. 
 Elihu s visit that morning, she thought to see the 
 opening for which she had hoped.
 
 "COURIER" PRINTS AN EXTRA 217 
 
 "Then why did you refuse?" she demanded hotly. 
 "If if all that " she flung her head back toward 
 the club-house from which they had come "if all 
 that means so much to you, why didn t you accept it 
 at their terms?" 
 
 The mild astonishment which that outburst evoked 
 surprised her. 
 
 "Means so much to me," he echoed. And then he 
 seemed to grasp the meaning of her speech. "Perhaps 
 it s because I m still uncertain, Carol, whether they d 
 have me, at any rate." 
 
 That brought an angrier light to her eyes. But 
 when he would have taken leave of her at the door of 
 the cottage which was no longer drably in need of 
 paint, she refused to let him go. 
 
 "I m tired of dining alone, Jimmy," she said, "and 
 you ve not told me anything about yourself. Do you 
 mind staying?" 
 
 He smiled wistfully. 
 
 "Do you mind letting me stay?" he asked. 
 
 And with that she slipped her hand into his and 
 clung tight to his fingers. 
 
 "It s only yesterday," she said in a small voice. 
 "You ve grown taller, Jimmy, and your clothes still 
 have that miraculous appearance of having been 
 made for you alone, but you ve not grown up. Will 
 you wait oat here for me. There are things to read, 
 if you wish. I ll be back as quickly as I can." She 
 paused in the doorway and flung him a persistently
 
 2i 8 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 cheerful backward glance. "You ve not told me yet, 
 Jimmy, that I ve become something of a beauty," she 
 laughed. "I doubt if there is anybody else in town 
 who hasn t told me, several times at least." 
 
 She was gone before he could answer, and he sat 
 immobile during her absence. Nor did he realize 
 how long she really was, or find the waiting irksome. 
 And when she came quietly down-stairs, the white 
 costume changed for a frock of palest green, she 
 stood for a long moment or two in the doorway, a 
 tiny pulse growing and growing in her throat as she 
 watched his face. Then he heard her step; he 
 wheeled and saw her standing there. And before his 
 awkward speechlessness she dropped her head. 
 
 "That is pretty, Jimmy, and and very flattering," 
 she murmured. "You could not have made it more 
 sincere." 
 
 She led the way inside to a small round table laid 
 for two. She watched him sweep that changed front 
 room with a glance. 
 
 "Like it?" she asked. "I did most of it myself." 
 
 "It s like you," he replied, and he spoke so 
 diffidently, that she blinked back a suspicious mois 
 ture with some haste. But when she tried to turn the 
 conversation into that channel, she found that he 
 would not talk about himself. And then she found 
 fresh cause for astonishment in his familiarity with 
 what she laughingly referred to as her career. 
 
 Lips parted and face eagerly forward-thrust she
 
 "COURIER" PRINTS AN EXTRA 219 
 
 leaned toward him in the candlelight while he 
 reviewed it, step by step. 
 
 "I missed the Satin Slipper, " his statement was so 
 painfully self-conscious that her bubbling laughter 
 interrupted him "the opening night here in 
 Warchester, that is. But I saw it the next week in 
 Providence. And the rest of them, one way or 
 another, mostly from the balcony, I managed to 
 witness on their first nights. Then you went West in 
 stock ; that was three years ago. Then you surprised 
 them in Hardy s Three s a Crowd ; then 
 Intoxication. And now they say you ll be a star, I m 
 told Carl Hardy " 
 
 Her eyes had become very, very bright during that 
 recital. 
 
 "Your flowers came, that night we opened here in 
 the Palace," she said, and then lips curled, she leaned 
 even nearer until the points of light tinted dully the 
 bronze of her bright head with gold. "I ve never 
 thanked you for them until now. But now I thank 
 you, oh, greatly. But there s one thing you ve 
 forgotten Jimmy. Don t you remember that night 
 you took me to rehearsal the first night after you d 
 come home, to find I d finally decided to go ? Don t 
 you remember my prophecy?" 
 
 He opened his lips, but she would wait for no 
 answer. 
 
 "Well, here we are!" she rushed on, and she flung 
 out both arms in an ecstatic little gesture that
 
 220 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 embraced them both. "Don t you see, Jimmy, the 
 table for two and the candles and no flowers to 
 bother at all. And I I need a play?" 
 
 And with that, suddenly and inexplicably, she was 
 very near again to tears. He was trying very hard to 
 play up to her lead. 
 
 "Only you promised to be very haughty at first," he 
 reminded her slowly, "and instead " 
 
 "I find it too difficult a role, Jimmy," she replied. 
 "I ve read that first act again. Did you think I was 
 dressing all that time ? And I daren t be too haughty 
 for fear you ll carry it to a more appreciative 
 leading lady." She waited, and toyed with the silver. 
 "You you haven t given up trying, have you?" she 
 asked. "It isn t just Warchester and Warchester s 
 approval that you want, is it?" 
 
 But now that he was looking at her she would not 
 meet his eyes. 
 
 "You like it?" he asked quietly. 
 
 "Yes!" 
 
 "Honestly, you believe that it is worth finishing?" 
 
 "Yes yes," she flung back at him. "I know it. I 
 want to send it to Mr. Hardy again, if you ll have 
 a copy made for me. Will you?" 
 
 "I ll have it copied to-morrow," he promised. 
 
 And he led her so surely into a discussion of a 
 further development of that one act that she believed 
 it was she who was leading him away from less 
 pleasant thoughts. Several hours later she let him go
 
 "COURIER" PRINTS AN EXTRA 221 
 
 only after he had promised to start upon a second act 
 before the week was old. She watched from behind a 
 drawn shade and saw that he stood long after she 
 had closed the door, his head bared. Before her 
 mirror she found that her eyes were wet. She wrote 
 Carl Hardy a glowing letter concerning a playwright 
 of great promise whose work she meant to bring to 
 notice before many days. 
 
 And Jimmy Gordon had made his way through 
 barbed-wire fence and orchard and come out before 
 the Latham hedge, before he had any clear recollec 
 tion either of his whereabouts or his destination. 
 He had been content merely to walk, and habit had 
 led the way, but there he stopped suddenly, in the 
 shadow, a chance audience of a bit of drama, realistic 
 in the extreme, which was being enacted across the 
 way. 
 
 The door of T. Elihu Banks great brick house 
 opened and shot a stream of pale light out into the 
 night. T. Elihu s huge body stood framed in the 
 doorway; the patch of radiance revealed before him 
 a smaller, shambling figure in ill-fitting clothes. The 
 latter seemed to find difficulty with his lines. T. 
 Elihu supplied the action of the scene. Jimmy 
 Gordon watched him swing Tivotson by the scruff of 
 his neck to the top of the stairs and kick him toward 
 the sidewalk. T. Elihu seemed to be talking. Then 
 he turned and closed the door. 
 
 A moment later Jimmy assisted his city editor to
 
 222 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 his feet. Together they turned their steps, without 
 haste, for Tivotson had need to travel slowly, toward 
 the Courier office downtown. And neither the 
 proprietor of that sheet, nor its city editor, noticed 
 that they left lying there upon T. Elihu s lawn where 
 it had fallen from the latter s pocket, a red-headlined 
 copy of the first extra that the Courier had run in 
 years. 
 
 The walk back to the Courier office, toward which 
 the owner of that ill-famed sheet and its ill-favored 
 editor turned their steps, was accomplished in silence; 
 but Jimmy sensed the outburst to come in Tivotson s 
 stifled breathing. 
 
 The brisk walk, assisted by the night air, completed 
 the process which the point of T. Elihu s right boot 
 had begun. And Tivotson was sober enough to 
 mount the stairs to the upper editorial room without 
 assistance, in spite of the blackness of the passage 
 way, when they finally reached that destination. In 
 truth, he did stumble over the threshold; he 
 blundered with a crash into a chair as he groped for 
 his desk in the darkness. But that was due to no 
 unsteadiness of foot. And Jimmy barely smothered 
 a gasp, as he found the button and switched on the 
 light. 
 
 The city editor s eyes were glazed and fixed ; there 
 was a cut across one eyebrow, not deep or dangerous, 
 but none the less distinctly far from decorative. 
 Mud he had acquired liberally and lost his hat; and
 
 "COURIER" PRINTS AN EXTRA 223 
 
 his collar, guiltless of tie, being loose from the band 
 of his shirt, hung in a waggish flapping curl above 
 one ear. 
 
 Yet it was the disorder of the man s face and not 
 that of his habiliments, which amazed his employer, 
 who, in a degree, had been prepared for some such 
 spectacle. Tivotson was indeed sober when he should 
 have been very, very drunk, considering all that he 
 had consumed since the five o clock extra appeared on 
 the streets, but his face was twisted and alarmingly 
 white with the shock which had sobered him. 
 
 A very certain change had taken place in Tivotson. 
 It was self-evident in the little man s shambling, slack 
 body, which was slack and shambling no longer. 
 
 For many years his illusions concerning himself 
 had been anything but rapt. It was in another 
 quarter that his sentiments had suffered a violent 
 readjustment. And then, with startling suddenness, 
 out of complete quiet, he began to laugh. 
 
 At the first hysterical cackling Jimmy Gordon 
 whirled in his own chair near the window. He had 
 heard men break down with just such laughter, just 
 before they began to scream with terror, and he was 
 half-prepared to find his city editor climbing upon the 
 desk, or shudderingly covering his eyes from visions 
 which most heartily he did not want to see. But 
 when he turned, Tivotson was still in his place, his 
 face gaunt and ghostly and strained in the half-light. 
 
 And he continued to laugh shrilly, with no mirth in
 
 224 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 the high-pitched cachinnations, until, from very 
 heartlessness, he could laugh no longer. 
 
 "No proof !" he chuckled then huskily, and Jimmy s 
 own body tautened as he realized that Tivotson was 
 harking back to their luncheon conversation at 
 Hanlon s. "No proof!" And with that he needs 
 must laugh again until he choked. Then, for the first 
 time, he looked his employer squarely in the eye. 
 
 "I m sober," he assured that silent figure. "Cold 
 sober." 
 
 Jimmy nodded. 
 
 Tivotson s next words seemed in the nature of a 
 mental digression. 
 
 "Banks kicked me off his front steps a while ago," 
 he said vaguely, but the vagueness was in no way 
 reassuring so far as Tivotson s sentiments toward the 
 gentleman mentioned were concerned. 
 
 "I happened to be watching," said Jimmy simply. 
 ,"I helped you up." 
 
 It was Tivotson s turn to nod. 
 
 "That s so," he mused. "I d forgotten." 
 
 A pause ensued. 
 
 "Any idea why I was calling upon our esteemed 
 fellow townsman?" he inquired, with an odd mixture 
 of woebegone defiance and level-eyed bitterness. 
 
 "None whatsoever," Jimmy lied gravely. 
 
 "I went up to tip him off that you were going to 
 get him if you could. I went up to tell him that you 
 said you hoped he d kick you out if you ever tried to
 
 "COURIER" PRINTS AN EXTRA 225) 
 
 enter his house." He pointed to a copy of the after 
 noon extra. "As if that wasn t enough! But I d 
 forgotten that s how drunk I was. And " 
 Tivotson s voice grew almost ruminative "and he 
 kicked me out instead. That s funny, isn t it? But 
 you don t know yet how funny it is. I ve been selling 
 this sheet out to T. Elihu Banks for the last ten years 
 selling anything that was worth a dollar to T. 
 Elihu, hours before it was printed. And I was going 
 to sell you that s the kind of a dog I am the same 
 day you shook hands with me and treated me like 
 something human. But he kicked me off his steps, 
 just because he had to have something to kick, and 
 
 I was handy. And why not? Wouldn t a dog like 
 me come around again the next morning thirsty 
 
 and whining for more ?" 
 
 Jimmy s eyes had fiever left Tivotson s. When he 
 perceived that the latter was awaiting a reply, he 
 
 grinned a little crookedly. 
 
 "I don t know would he?" he murmured. 
 Tivotson ignored his question. He had picked up 
 
 the copy of the extra and was reading from it with 
 
 savagely satirical mockery. 
 "How DID You GET AWAY WITH IT, T. ELIHU ?" 
 
 he drawled the huge headline, and then he attacked 
 
 with the same dangerously shaken voice the body of 
 
 the short but sensational text. 
 
 "To-day the Courier had the unexpected honor of 
 
 playing host to T. Elihu Banks, talked of as a
 
 226 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 Senatorial possibility. The esteemed gentleman 
 called upon us in person, and while the Courier, as it 
 assured him, is not yet in the political market, there 
 is one question vital to us which we would like to ask. 
 Nothing so far removed as a Senatorial nomination 
 interests us that is to-day. We are, as is perhaps 
 well known, only about two jumps ahead of 
 bankruptcy. Yet we are hopeful. After having given 
 the Traction franchise deal, the Main Street paving 
 deal, etc., a cursory examination, we take courage. 
 There seems to be easy money to be made at home, 
 if one only knows the ropes. How should we proceed 
 to get away with it, T. Elihu?" 
 
 When Tivotson finished, Jimmy was smiling. 
 "I rather like that paragraph. But you should 
 have known better than to go near him to-night," he 
 admonished his city editor with whimsical gravity. 
 "I don t think we pleased T. Elihu, do you?" 
 
 "Why don t you throw me out of the window?" 
 Tivotson mumbled numbly in reply. 
 
 And suddenly the ache in the little man s eyes was 
 so dull and dispirited a thing that Jimmy could not 
 sit and watch it. He rose and crossed and dropped 
 both hands on the drooping shoulders. 
 
 "We black-sheep must stick together, Tivotson," 
 he repeated his words of the day before. "It s 
 positively our only chance in Warchester." 
 
 With that Tivotson s breakdown was absolute. 
 Jimmy went back to his window and waited. And at
 
 "COURIER" PRINTS AN EXTRA 227 
 
 last, when quiet had come again, he felt Tivotson 
 looking at him. He spoke without lifting his chin 
 from his hand. 
 
 "You spoke of proof, Tivotson," he said. "Do 
 you feel sure you could " 
 
 He got no further with his tentative question. 
 Tivotson interrupted him. 
 
 "Proof! Sure! Didn t I get my bit? Wasn t I 
 in on every deal ? Don t I know what Latham split, 
 and Banks and District Attorney Jameson yes, 
 and Wainwright, too ? Washington, eh ! Washing 
 ton ! Why, I m going to send those crooks to jail !" 
 
 Tivotson stormed up to his climax with a wrath 
 so righteous that Jimmy could no longer control 
 himself. He gave way to immoderate laughter that 
 left him with tears in his eyes. Tivotson sat watch 
 ing him with an appreciative grin. 
 
 "I told you it was funny," he said. 
 
 "It is," Jimmy answered, when he gained self- 
 control, "only only there s one flaw in your 
 beautifully benevolent plan. You d be likely to go, 
 too, you see." 
 
 The grin was wiped from Tivotson s face, and an 
 almost injured look replaced it. 
 
 "But that s the joke that s the funny part of it," 
 he answered. "Won t I have a select coterie of 
 Warchester s best people to keep me company?" 
 
 Jimmy gave it up and again succumbed to mirth. 
 
 "Now I know you re sober, Tivotson," he said.
 
 228 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 "Your sense of humor is delicious, if you ll pardon 
 the word. To show my appreciation I d ask you to 
 step out and have a drink with me only I suppose you 
 aren t drinking any more, are you?" 
 
 "I I don t know," he stammered ludicrously. 
 "Ami?" 
 
 "I took it for granted that you weren t, for a time, 
 at least. If I m wrong " 
 
 Tivotson waved a lean hand, hungry-eyed but 
 game. 
 
 "Just as you say," he agreed. "It s immaterial 
 anyhow. If I get what I hope s coming to them, it ll 
 be a long, long drought for me." 
 
 "True enough," replied Jimmy, but he seemed to 
 be thinking of something else. "And yet I m afraid 
 you ll have to forego that hope. I need you here, 
 Tivotson. I can t spare you, just now. I need your 
 saving sense of humor." 
 
 The pallid little man stiffened. 
 
 "He kicked me off his front-steps," he reminded 
 the other, stubbornly, "I ve got to get him." 
 
 "We ll get him," said Jimmy and his next words 
 puzzled his city editor "and who could ask for a 
 better second act curtain than that?" 
 
 Tivotson blinked. 
 
 "Huh?" he asked. 
 
 Jimmy s smile was diffident, almost apologetic. 
 
 "I m glad I came back," he went on. "Tivotson, 
 sometimes I think I d rather be an underdog than sit
 
 "COURIER" PRINTS AN EXTRA 229 
 
 in the high places of the mighty. One s view is less 
 clouded that s paradoxical enough, isn t it?" And 
 then one learns to bear up under disappointment 
 better being disappointed often enough, God 
 knows." 
 
 "I wish you d write up your little experience of this 
 evening. (Of course the climax is painful, but I d 
 dwell on it rather strongly, nevertheless.) Just tell 
 our readers that the Courier returned Mr. Banks call 
 last night returned it promptly and punctiliously 
 with a view to getting a personal answer to the 
 question which we asked that gentleman in 
 yesterday s extra. Make no secret of the fact that he 
 kicked us off his front-steps, or of our injured 
 feelings. I think I d hint, rather plainly, that just for 
 that we aren t going to let him be our Senator to 
 iWashington, and that we propose to answer the 
 question ourselves, if they ll be patient awhile. 
 
 "Head it The Courier Returns T. Elihu s Call! 
 Get it in to-morrow s issue but it s to-day s issue 
 now isn t it? I ll wait and go over it with you, when 
 you ve finished. I I ve some work of my own to 
 do." 
 
 Tivotson turned with a yelp of enthusiasm to act 
 upon the suggestion, but the tall thin figure in the 
 shabby tweeds sat motionless at the window, a 
 cigarette between his lips, his eyes tired, his pencil 
 idle. While he watched, a yellow Airedale trotted 
 into view on the silent street below. He seemed
 
 230 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 self-possessed and unhurried, yet glad to be home 
 again. Jimmy recognized Hanlon s Oh Boy, back 
 from his latest excursion. He watched him out of 
 sight and then went suddenly to work. 
 
 He was half-hidden beneath the blue of a cloud 
 of cigarette smoke when the city editor stopped at 
 his elbow on his way to the pressroom. 
 
 "Extremely good, Tivotson," he murmured, but 
 obviously his mind was not in the words. "Simple 
 and plausible and human very human. Run it as 
 it stands." 
 
 An hour later, just before daybreak, Tivotson went 
 home to change his clothes. Quite inexplicably, and 
 without analyzing his new-found self-respect, the 
 little man did not want to be seen on the streets in 
 raiment such as that which draped him. And when 
 he returned at nine in suit and shoes that fairly 
 shrieked their newness to all beholders, Jimmy was 
 still at his desk, a dead cigarette between his lips, 
 sorting into place, with fine preoccupation, a thick 
 sheaf of closely written pages. 
 
 "Not too bad as second acts go," Tivotson heard 
 him murmur. "Some comedy considerable heart- 
 interest and a note of suspense, and very, very 
 human, as Hardy would say. Thank God for 
 Tivotson ; it needed just that touch. And now I ll get 
 a wire off to Hardy before " 
 
 The rest of it Tivotson ignored. Thank God for
 
 "COURIER" PRINTS AN EXTRA 231 
 
 Tivotson he heard, and while he did not exactly 
 understand, the words brought a stain of color into 
 his hollow cheeks. It was miracle enough to have 
 found out that someone viewed his existence with 
 something besides tolerance, without hearing that 
 person mutter thanks in accents fervidly absent- 
 minded. From that hour Tivotson s attitude was 
 truly doglike. It was four o clock in the afternoon 
 before he remembered even to be thirsty.
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 AN UNPROVOKED AND SHAMEFUL ASSAULT 
 
 NEWSBOYS were hawking the morning edition 
 of the sheet containing Tivotson s account 
 of his visit to the town s great man, 
 neglecting to an astonishing degree the Gazette, T. 
 Elihu Banks own organ, which featured Wain- 
 wright s answer to the preposterous issue of the day 
 before. And Jimmy stopped at the corner of Main 
 and Front Streets to purchase a copy of both 
 publications from a vender, who ceased hitching at 
 his nether garments, supported by one precarious 
 suspender, and stood struck dumb as he recognized 
 his customer. 
 
 The owner of the Courier understood the boy s 
 emotions. He had seen men stand and stare with 
 just such bated and incredulous interest at a Jesse 
 James type of criminal, who had been apprehended 
 in the perpetration of a crime so heinous that one 
 quite forgot its atrocity in marveling at the mad 
 temerity which had led the man to commit it. Yet 
 there was one essential quality lacking in the boy s 
 gaze which convinced Jimmy that he was perhaps 
 not regarded quite in this light, after all. There was 
 neither envy nor grizzly admiration in the newsboy s 
 fascinated scrutiny, but rather a worldwise air of 
 
 232
 
 AN UNPROVOKED ASSAULT 233 
 
 scorn. Thus, indeed, with two feet added to his 
 stature and two score years to his age, he might have 
 looked upon one Thomas Mott a half-witted and 
 wholly miserable lump of clay, lately featured in the 
 metropolitan prints as the slayer of a widow and 
 some six or eight small children. Distinctly the gaze 
 was not one of flattery; and Jimmy failed to do the 
 moment justice. Had he frowned fiercely the incident 
 might have remained somehow impressive; instead 
 he allowed his amusement to gleam in his eyes. 
 Thereupon he ceased instantly to be even an awe 
 some figure. 
 
 "Ya-a-y," the shrill-voiced gamin shouted to a 
 companion, the instant his tall customer s back was 
 fairly turned. "Ya-a-y, Guffy! That s him nowl 
 That s him! The big stiff !" 
 
 For a moment the light in Jimmy s eyes was a little 
 disconcerted at the personally inimical note of 
 contempt which the ribald identification carried. Then 
 it occurred to him that he had not been on the 
 streets since the appearance of the extra the previous 
 afternoon, except at an hour when they were 
 practically deserted, and the amusement not only 
 returned to his eyes but communicated itself to his 
 lips as well. 
 
 If the newsboy s attitude was to be accepted as 
 fairly indicative of popular opinion. . . . 
 
 Main street was not deserted now. At no other 
 hour was one so likely to meet upon the streets those
 
 234 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 citizens in whose hands lay the city s larger affairs, 
 save perhaps at noon. Only a day earlier Jimmy 
 Gordon had been compelled to pause and shake 
 hands at least a score of times, in half as many 
 minutes, in covering those same two blocks which 
 stretched between the corner and the alley that led 
 to Hanlon s. But no one insisted now that he stop, 
 either for a bantering word or two, or a hearty 
 handclasp. Thereupon, with the newsboy s comment 
 vividly in mind, Jimmy tried bowing to the first two 
 or three men he met men who had hastened to meet 
 him the day before not because he expected the 
 bow to be returned, but largely as an experiment in 
 human nature. He bowed and smiled, and the 
 phenomenon was instant and illuminating. The first 
 target for his cordiality turned his back upon him 
 with considerable violence ; the next two crossed the 
 street to avoid passing him by. 
 
 In other years Jimmy s appearance upon that 
 thoroughfare, especially when Hanlon s was his 
 destination, had always meant a display of 
 disapproval, but it had never been so vast and 
 bitterly unanimous a thing before. In truth the 
 town s lost dog had come home, and, true to the 
 instinct of the breed, had bitten the first hand 
 stretched out to feed him. 
 
 Main Street left nothing said or undone, save 
 perhaps actual physical chastisement, which might 
 express its opinion of such wanton viciousness.
 
 AN UNPROVOKED ASSAULT 235 
 
 Immediately Jimmy gave over bowing, condemn- 
 ing the experiment as ill conceived, and of doubtful 
 value, and kept his eyes to the front. Proceeding in 
 such fashion, unable to remain oblivious to the 
 comments and glances that kept him pace, he never 
 theless created the impression of a preoccupied and 
 cosmopolitan idler who, sauntering to keep a pleasant 
 but not necessarily pressing engagement, permitted 
 himself to exhibit a trace of quizzical amusement at 
 much that he encountered on the way. Nor did this 
 bearing prove in any way soothing to those who 
 watched him pass. But the smile that lurked on his 
 lips had become fine-edged and strained in spite of 
 himself, when he finally neared the old Palace 
 Theater Building. 
 
 Here he was forced to swing to one side of the 
 pavement to avoid a knot of men which did not 
 break up at his approach. Jimmy heard fragments 
 of their discourse; he caught a glimpse of the chief 
 spokesman, who held the center of the throng, and 
 was wondering casually if the latter had stationed 
 himself there with the expectation that he would pass 
 that way, when suddenly the ring split open. Judge 
 Jameson (the title had clung to him since the days 
 when he had served a less complex community as 
 justice of the peace) plunged through the ranks of 
 his audience. Rage marred the benevolence with 
 which the gentleman s white beard endowed his face ; 
 passion spoiled his usually benign austerity. And
 
 236 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 there was a white circle about his lips, and half 
 circles, correspondingly dark, beneath his eyes. 
 Decidedly the eminent legal authority s appearance 
 suggested a sleepless night, as did the ragged sav 
 agery of his greeting. 
 
 "A damnable outrage, sir," he roared as he spread 
 his legs and blocked the passage of Warchester s 
 newest journalist. "A damnably treacherous piece 
 of business, sir, which, I promise you, shall be 
 punished to the full extent of the law." 
 
 And, as he talked, he waved a copy of the Courier s 
 extra in one hand and smote it with the other, thus 
 leaving the editor of that sheet in no doubt whatever 
 concerning the subject of his remarks. 
 
 The tall, thin figure came to a stop ; the smile was 
 in evidence, though slightly crooked now. 
 
 "Good morning, Judge." He at least remembered 
 the niceties of formal usage, though he made no 
 advance which might have indicated a willingness to 
 shake hands. "Good morning, sir and thank youl 
 I can t tell you how greatly it encourages me to hear 
 you utter such sentiments, particularly in this positive 
 and public fashion." He paused, and the smile 
 became charmingly disingenuous. "I I was 
 beginning to believe that I had stirred up no end of 
 hostility. There were so many who had to take 
 pains not to see me on the streets this morning. But 
 that s usually the way, I suppose. No doubt they are 
 waiting for a gentleman of your prestige to counte-
 
 AN UNPROVOKED ASSAULT 237 
 
 nance a change which must come, of course, 
 inevitably. It is an outrage, as you say. It is 
 damnably small damnably treacherous. And per 
 haps I should add, sir, that those words express 
 my estimate of all public servants who use their 
 power to further personal ends, just as dishonest, 
 though, perhaps, less gainful. May I quote you, sir, 
 as having allied yourself " 
 
 The circle had tightened again, this time with the 
 tall, thin figure who smiled, and the shorter one who 
 glared at him from popping eyes, as its nucleus. And 
 for a moment it was a dumbfounded, exceedingly 
 bewildered circle. 
 
 For T. Elihu s black sheep of a nephew, instead of 
 cringing, had brightened visibly before the forensic 
 bellowings of District Attorney Jameson. There was 
 pleased gratification in his lean and familiarly 
 apologetic face, such as one who has performed a 
 thankless task only to find himself the object of 
 unsought encomium might be expected to exhibit. 
 And only one or two caught the ghastly significance 
 of his complacency. He believed he dared to 
 believe that Judge Jameson, T. Elihu s own lawyer, 
 had meant to 
 
 Then Jameson recovered his breath, and cleared 
 even the most sluggish mind of perplexity. 
 
 "You quote me," he thundered. "You dare to 
 quote me in that dirty rag as having voiced any such 
 utterance, and I I ll "
 
 2 3 8 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 He paused, groping for a threat which might do 
 the case justice, and in that infinitesimal moment of 
 quiet Jimmy Gordon underwent a swift change of 
 face. His gratification was seen to vanish. 
 
 "Yes, Judge," he asked softly. "You ll do 
 what?" 
 
 Men pressed closer ; men came on a run and packed 
 the throng still tighter. It was as if an electric thrill 
 had gone abroad of a sudden to warn them that here 
 was the prime sensation of the morning. 
 
 "I ll run you out of town," the Judge bellowed. 
 "I ll run you out of town, just as I did eight years 
 ago, you good-for-nothing slanderous " 
 
 Jimmy cut him so short that he almost choked. 
 Nor could there be any doubt now concerning the 
 expression on the former s face. It was rage that 
 sort of white rage with which no sensible man cares 
 particularly to trifle. Yet his voice was pleasant and 
 conversationally quiet. 
 
 "No, you won t Judge," he contradicted. "No 
 more than I will you, unless you wait too long before 
 seeing the error of your ways though I ve promised 
 myself, often enough, that I d do it for you, God 
 knows." 
 
 And with that crowning bit of verbal effrontery, 
 the owner of the Courier raised one arm. Later the 
 true interpretation of that gesture was the bone of 
 much bitter contention. Hobbs, for instance of the 
 Hardware, who prided himself on being above all a
 
 AN UNPROVOKED ASSAULT 239 
 
 fair-minded man, maintained that Jimmy had merely 
 waved aside those who blocked his path that he might 
 pass on to Hanlon s. But Wilbert, Drugs and Toilet 
 Sundries, always to be swayed by his personal likes 
 and dislikes, insisted with heated indignation that the 
 move could be construed as nothing but the vilest 
 and most cowardly of threats aganst an elderly 
 gentleman, obviously unable to protect himself from 
 physical assault. Wilbert belonged to an old- 
 fashioned era of Warchester, when cow-hiding had 
 been held to be a specific for certain cases, fully as 
 infallible and no more reprehensible than mustard- 
 plasters and sulphur and molasses. He was even 
 heard to urge some such drastic punishment after 
 Jimmy Gordon was gone from sight and hearing. 
 
 But whatever the true meaning of that uplifted 
 arm (and there were few who did not lean toward 
 Wilbert s interpretation of its dastardly intent), the 
 result was speedy and astounding. 
 
 For Judge Jameson, falling back before the white- 
 faced editor, tripped upon his own panic feet and 
 came down full length in the gutter. Those who 
 heard his splutterings as they assisted him to rise, 
 found them fully as unintelligible as Jimmy Gordon s 
 last words had been enigmatic of meaning. They 
 refused to credit their own ears in wondering if 
 Jimmy Gordon had really threatened to run the 
 eminent gentleman out of town all but the eminent 
 gentleman himself, who had no need to wonder. He
 
 2 4 o HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 shdok off a dozen solicitous hands and started for 
 T. Elihu s office. He knew. 
 
 And within an hour it was common gossip that 
 Judge Jameson, who had once incurred Jimmy 
 Gordon s undying enmity through the performance 
 of his sworn duty, had suffered harshly at that 
 returned renegade s hands. There were many 
 versions of the affair, which tallied only in one 
 particular. The attack had been unprovoked and 
 shameful. Before noon Wilbert, an eyewitness, was 
 not only able to recollect, but to illustrate as well, 
 with approved pugilistic poses, the very blow which 
 had felled the defenseless victim. 
 
 And the offender (allowed to depart the scene 
 unpunished and unscathed, owing to the fact that he 
 had taken the bystanders by surprise) entered 
 Hanlon s and confronted the proprietor of that 
 hostelry at the same moment when they were assisting 
 Judge Jameson to his feet outside. 
 
 Immediately a frown furrowed Hanlon s 
 forehead. He had accepted Jimmy Gordon s return 
 to Warchester as a happy actuality, viewing him as a 
 Joseph who might explain the minority party s night 
 mare of seven lean years and interpret their dream 
 of seven years of plenty into terms of action. Without 
 being analytical about it, so far as he was concerned, 
 it was still the same quizzical-faced boy of few words 
 who had come back, changed neither inwardly nor 
 outwardly, save that he had grown inches taller. But
 
 AN UNPROVOKED ASSAULT 241 
 
 the Jimmy of old had always masked his emotions, 
 having no faith that they might prove interesting to 
 anyone but himself. This was the first time that 
 Hanlon had ever known the town s black sheep to 
 permit anything so positive as either joy or rage to 
 show in his features. 
 
 "Steady!" he exclaimed, as Jimmy burst in. 
 "Steady! Faith, an what s changed yer face? Aire 
 ye runnin away from a fight?" 
 
 Jimmy whirled. His eyes were hot. 
 
 "I ve been hurrying to keep from starting one!" 
 he flashed back. 
 
 The manner of the reply was illuminating, and 
 from that moment Hanlon s suspicions were awake. 
 He began to wonder if Jimmy Gordon was really a 
 prodigal of the approved, penniless pattern, who, 
 reversing the usual romantic order of things, had 
 come home to make his fortune. It was a grave 
 suspicion, and so, to cover his doubt, he fell back upon 
 a topic which all the rest of Warchester had found 
 futile. 
 
 "Lad," he said, as he drew a copy of the Courier 
 from his pocket, in a drawl with mock reproof, 
 "Lad, what a hell of a question to ask a gentleman! 
 How did ye git away with it T. Elihu ? 
 Ain t ye ashamed of yerself ?" 
 
 Calculated or not, the effect of the raillery was 
 magical. All in an instant, it was the old Jimmy 
 Gordon who stood there, grinning whimsically, half-
 
 242 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 apologetically, without the slightest trace of fire in 
 his eye. 
 
 "It s the fruit of my coarse associations," he 
 retorted in kind, "I ve forgotten all the nice little 
 tricks of social etiquette!" 
 
 "Ye ve forgot to shave." Hanlon s voice grew 
 imincing. "And, by-the-by, yer val-lay has laid out 
 yer things, me good man!" 
 
 Thereupon, no longer able to restrain his vast 
 approval, the proprietor of Hanlon s crushed 
 Jimmy s shoulders in a bear-like embrace. 
 
 "Ye divil!" he roared delightedly. "Ye lazy- 
 eyed, grinnin divil. Make yerself dacint and come 
 down and breakfast wid me. Tis starvin I am to 
 hear the disgraceful details."
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 A SERIES OF CONFERENCES 
 
 ANY number of discussions took place that day, 
 wherever one man encountered another 
 who would listen; all directly traceable to 
 the infamy of Jimmy Gordon and the boldness of 
 his utterances in the sheet which bore his name. But 
 there were three in particular, capable of classifica 
 tion as a series of conferences, since each depended 
 upon the one which had gone before while tending 
 toward a common climax, that were of singular 
 importance. 
 
 The first took place between Judge Jameson and 
 T. Elihu Banks; the second between the latter 
 prominent citizen and the up-start editor who had 
 flung mud at him; and the third, two days later, 
 shared again by Judge Jameson and another per 
 sonage who waited until after dark to keep the 
 appointment a personage who was, in his own 
 quite different world of society, equally as prominent 
 as any of them. 
 
 Judge Jameson lost but little time in seeking out 
 T. Elihu Banks that morning of his disastrous 
 encounter with Jimmy Gordon. The hour still 
 
 243
 
 244 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 lacked a few minutes of ten when T. Elihu, pacing 
 up and down his private office, himself in a 
 dangerous state of mind, stopped to glare at the 
 entrance of his legal representative and fellow 
 candidate on the Civic Welfare ticket. Jameson s 
 face very amply indicated his turmoil of spirit; the 
 state of his toilet was a superfluity. T. Elihu * 
 bearing was more like that of a caged lion, both in 
 the way he swung his head from side to side as he 
 walked, and the padded softness of his heavy tread. 
 Even the roar which he emitted, simultaneous with 
 the closing of the office door, was leonine, at least 
 in volume. The first conference opened noisily. 
 
 In the beginning, the town s most prominent 
 citizen confined himself to a dissertation upon the 
 Courier and its owner, past and present, antecedents 
 and ancestors. And the future to which he consigned 
 them both, when he had arrived at that point, 
 suffered neither from lack of luridness nor poverty 
 of phrase. 
 
 The Reverend Watson Duncan, who had already 
 been in conference with Mr. Banks, if the part he 
 played as overawed auditor for T. Elihu s explosive 
 grunts could be so designated, tried to keep the 
 pained shock from showing too plainly in his face. 
 Indeed, from the moment the Reverend Watson 
 Duncan had entered the room, summoned there 
 peremptorily by his stepson s uncle, Mr. Duncan s 
 state of mind had been unenviable. And as he
 
 CONFERENCES 245 
 
 listened, seated against the wall, he suggested, more 
 than ever before, an harassed old buck-rabbit, 
 quakingly conscious of his rabbity instincts and ten 
 dencies, yet hopeful that the nervous twitchings of 
 his nose might not betray him. 
 Jameson waited until he could make himself heard. 
 
 "I I suppose you have seen this morning s issue 
 of the Courier" he ventured then, in a voice grown 
 so thin and bodiless that even he heard the note of 
 fear in it. Upon T. Elihu it had the effect of a 
 sharp-tined prodding iron. 
 
 "Sit down," he ordered profanely, "if your knees 
 are growing weak." But then, recovering himself 
 enough to read a new development in Jameson s 
 face, which was a bulletin of disaster, he fell back 
 upon a question. "What s happened now?" 
 
 Jameson was mopping his forehead. 
 
 "I ve just had an altercation with that crook, 
 Gordon," he replied, "a a very disconcerting 
 altercation." He seemed to set himself like a high 
 diver for the next plunge. "I suspect somebody has 
 squealed," he finished. 
 
 This possibility was suggested in a very small 
 voice and accompanied by a sidewise glance toward 
 the reverend gentleman, which might have been 
 construed either as a belated thought for caution or 
 a delicate apology for speaking in such terms of one 
 of Mr. Duncan s own family circle. Mr. Banks 
 suffered from no such compunction.
 
 246 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 Again he frothed, and again achieved partial 
 calmness. 
 
 "Suspect someone has squealed suspect!" He 
 mimicked Mr. Jameson s intonation with cruel 
 precision. "Damnation, man, can t you ever 
 approach an issue without quibbling? It s Tivotson 
 the drunken fool or didn t you realize that, even 
 after they d told you so in this morning s paper!" 
 
 If T. Elihu had expected a display of positive and 
 belligerent support on the part of his colleague, the 
 latter s face at that moment, a decidedly unpleasant 
 yellow above the white benevolence of his whiskers, 
 corrected the error in his judgment. The man 
 seemed fairly to shrink within his clothes. 
 
 "You mean he ll tell " he whispered. 
 
 T. Elihu ripped out an interruption. There was 
 stuff in T. Elihu Banks. 
 
 "God!" He shattered any belief which Mr. 
 Duncan might have held that there had been a pious 
 invocation in former like explosions. "Good God! 
 And I ve got to depend on you !" 
 
 Jameson offered no defense of his collapse. He 
 lifted a haggard face. 
 
 "Anything I can do," he began, when T. Elihu 
 wheeled toward the little and rabbity figure against 
 the wall. St. Luke s congregation would have been 
 equally astounded at the tone of the words which 
 T. Elihu flung at their dapper shepherd, and the 
 latter s meek alacrity to obey.
 
 CONFERENCES 247 
 
 "I m busy," he ordered briefly. "Close the door 
 behind you." 
 
 Mr. Duncan almost leaped to obey. He had been 
 quaking with the fear that T. Elihu might reproach 
 him with a kinship which he had already repudiated 
 some eight years before, or find him somehow 
 blameworthy for the present dilemma. But with 
 the feel of the knob under his fingers, a very certain 
 retreat open to him, he gave thought to his ecclesias 
 tical dignity and managed to conquer, partly, the 
 jquaver in his throat. 
 
 "I shall not intrude upon your time now, sir," 
 he said. "Some other time some other time 1" But 
 the usually airy gesture with which he was wont to 
 wave aside the urgency of his visits, was wofully 
 stiff. "And I need not assure you, gentlemen, that I 
 shall do all I can to combat from my pulpit the 
 forces of iniquity and deceit." 
 
 His well-rounded pronunciamento fell upon stony 
 ears. T. Elihu was pacing the office rug once more. 
 This time when he paused, decision was evident in 
 the set of his jaw. 
 
 "Garritty in town?" he asked. 
 
 Jameson nodded. 
 
 "I have every reason to believe " he began, 
 
 and then realized the unfortunate habit of circum 
 locution had almost betrayed him again. "He s 
 here," he corrected himself. 
 
 "Get in touch with him," he ordered. "And wait
 
 248 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 until you hear from me. I m going to find out first 
 if this dog means to see this thing through, or is 
 only waiting until he gets his price." 
 
 "He threatened to drive me out of town," Jame 
 son burst out, just just as I did him, eight years 
 ago. What shall I tell Garrity?" 
 
 Mr. Banks laughed aloud in sudden bitterness. 
 
 "If I had only hooked up with him then," he 
 said, "I d have a man behind me now. Tell 
 Garrity? Unless you hear from me before night, 
 just remind him that any change in the administra 
 tion would be a most unfortunate thing for him." 
 
 Jameson s comprehension was complete, yet it 
 failed to bring him any degree of comfort or 
 restored confidence. Fish-like he opened and closed 
 his mouth, without achieving any sound whatever. 
 (Instead a new apprehension showed in his eyes.) 
 T. Elihu stood above him an instant, surveying him 
 with unconcealed disgust. 
 
 "Don t go back on the street until you look less 
 like a five-year sentence," he flung over his shoulder 
 as he turned away. "And you can get that in this 
 State for . . . but no doubt you recollect the 
 statutes." 
 
 T. Elihu slammed the door behind him. 
 
 The second interview, which occurred at three in 
 the afternoon, was purely the outcome of chance, 
 since Jimmy had decided that he would not return to 
 the office that day.
 
 CONFERENCES 249 
 
 Directly after lunch, having submitted meekly to 
 the ministrations of Abel, he started eagerly toward 
 the white cottage, which had once been known as 
 old Dave Landis place on the hill. The rough draft 
 of his second act discreetly displayed in one pocket 
 of his coat, he waited in a manner which he felt 
 befitted a hopeful, yet somewhat awed playwright 
 in the presence of Miss Carol Landis, only to have 
 the door opened for him by the maid. Somehow, he 
 had expected that Carol herself would answer the 
 bell, and even the little maid noticed the tall, thin 
 gentleman s moment of awkward blankness, when 
 she announced that Miss Landis was out. And, 
 suddenly, Jimmy found the afternoon, which had 
 impressed him as particularly bright and cheerful, 
 no longer especially exhilarating. It was the first 
 time he had ever gone to seek Carol Landis to find 
 her not at home, and he was glad that he had chosen 
 the longer route, and avoided the Banks-Latham 
 neighborhood on the way up the hill. Retracing his 
 steps, he tried to laugh at his absurd expectation that 
 there still would be no one to monopolize her time 
 but himself Jimmy Gordon, again the town s re 
 proach. And as for the rest, he could put in the 
 afternoon typing that second act and writing a letter 
 to Hardy. 
 
 He had finished the letter when T. Elihu Banks 
 entered the Courier s editorial rooms, a scant five 
 minutes after his return. It required a second warn-
 
 250 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 ing cough from Tivotson to apprise his superior of 
 the visitor s presence, however, for Jimmy had 
 fallen upon his typewriter with a zeal calculated to 
 occupy his mind to the exclusion of a disquieting 
 contemplation of his own ridiculous presumption in 
 having dared to think that she even recollected his 
 old-time, arrogant, matter-of-fact intimacy. 
 
 The smile with which he greeted T. Elihu could 
 have meant almost anything, or nothing, just as one 
 cared to view it. It was a very pleasant smile. 
 
 "I m sorry," he apologized for having kept the 
 big man standing. "I didn t hear you enter. You ll 
 sit down, of course." 
 
 T. Elihu did so without replying. His small eyes 
 traveled to Tivotson s eagerly forward-thrust face, 
 and dwelt upon it without a flicker of recognition, 
 even for the little man s changed appearance. 
 
 "If you can grant me just a moment or two, in 
 private, sir," he suggested to Jimmy. "I ll be 
 brief. . . ." 
 
 The owner of the Courier frowned ever so 
 slightly. 
 
 "Tivotson shares alike all the hazards and benefits 
 which are peculiar to this enterprise of ours." He 
 seemed to demur. "There is a bond of sympathy 
 between us. However," he quickened his speech a 
 little as T. Elihu showed signs of impatience with 
 this introspective irrelevance, "however, since you 
 wish it. ."
 
 CONFERENCES 251 
 
 Tivotson effaced himself with leisurely grimness. 
 And the moment he was gone, Mr. Banks, having 
 translated very literally Jimmy s assurance that half 
 of all profits were to be the city editor s share, 
 proceeded directly to the matter in hand. There was 
 even a hint of relief in T. Elihu s manner, for the 
 simplicity of his precious nephew s insinuation 
 cleared the issue. It had become, so to speak, strictly 
 a business deal. He opened negotiations on that 
 basis. 
 
 "How much do you want your rock-bottom 
 figure?" he asked. 
 
 A twinkle appeared in Jimmy s eye, but he clung 
 to that almost naive frankness, of which T. Elihu so 
 approved. 
 
 "It was on the tip of my tongue to ask how much 
 have you?" he laughed genially. "I don t mean to 
 haggle, either, Mr. Banks, or beat about the bush, 
 but just what, or how much do I understand you wish 
 to purchase?" 
 
 T. Elihu s great jaw seemed to edge forward. 
 
 "That treacherous sot s silence " he began, 
 
 when Jimmy interrupted. 
 
 "I couldn t guarantee that under any circumstances. 
 Tivotson has taken a a very decided aversion to 
 you, sir, if you get my meaning. I couldn t promise 
 to keep Tivotson silent." 
 
 "Then, your agreement not to back him up in his 
 charges. I can take care of him."
 
 252 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 "I see," murmured Jimmy "and what else ?" 
 
 "The Courier" said T. Elihu succinctly. "A 
 public retraction of your unfounded attack, which we 
 will not discuss at this moment, and a decision on 
 your part to leave Warchester oh say in a week or 
 two." 
 
 The twinkle became brighter in Jimmy s eyes. 
 
 "What!" he exclaimed, "again! And then 
 seriously, as the case demanded. "Is that all, Mr. 
 Banks?" 
 
 T. Elihu nodded; his eyes glistening and piglike. 
 
 "And the consideration?" ventured Jimmy. 
 
 "Twenty thousand!" 
 
 For a moment Jimmy pondered and then sighed 
 deeply. 
 
 "I value the Courier, greatly," he mused. "As a 
 newspaper property it is improving, as you ll agree. 
 And then there are sentimental reasons which make 
 me reluctant to " 
 
 "Twenty-five thousand," said T. Elihu. 
 
 "And then," Jimmy went on. "I I m not so sure 
 that I want to leave Warchester just at present. It 
 would necessitate a very serious change in my " 
 
 T. Elihu s heavy lips curled a little. He had 
 expected to find it a hard bargain. He drew out his 
 wallet. 
 
 "Thirty thousand," he snapped. "And that s my 
 limit. I could fight you cheaper than that, and beat 
 you, but "
 
 CONFERENCES 253 
 
 "But the Civic Reform folks mean to nominate 
 you by acclaim for Senator two weeks from Satur 
 day," Jimmy finished for him serenely. "Put your 
 money back in your pocket, Mr. Banks." 
 
 And in a breath both men, at that, were on their 
 feet. 
 
 The twinkle was gone from Jimmy s eyes and T. 
 Elihu had begun to breathe heavily. 
 
 "You promised to make it brief," Jimmy Gordon 
 said softly. "Have you finished?" 
 
 T. Elihu s great moon-face went purple. He 
 wheezed inarticulately, sucked in a great gulping 
 breath and raised one soft hand to hammer emphasis 
 for his promise of destruction. 
 
 "Then let me show you the way out," murmured 
 Jimmy hastily, smiling still, though his face was 
 strained and white. "Tivotson, if you please." 
 
 At that peremptory call the door flashed open, 
 disclosing Tivotson on the stairs. And as T. Elihu, 
 loosing his preliminary bellow, whirled in that 
 direction, Jimmy caught the bulky visitor by his 
 trousers belt and the slack of his collar and started 
 him for the exit. Before he could resist against the 
 rigid arms which propelled him, T. Elihu was on 
 the stairway and there was no wisdom in offering 
 resistance there. So Jimmy Gordon escorted the 
 town s great man to the lower level, with the city 
 editor showing the way. 
 
 "The outer door, if you please," Jimmy called
 
 254 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 sharply as he neared the landing. "Where are your 
 manners, Tivotson?" 
 
 "Sorry, sir," replied Tivotson. "It s open now, 
 sir." And he made a low bow to T. Elihu. 
 
 With that, having a premonition of what was to 
 come, Mr. Banks heaved his bull-like shoulders in 
 one convulsive struggle. One was all he essayed, 
 for the wire-like fingers in his collar promptly prom 
 ised to strangle him if he repeated the attempt. 
 
 So they debouched upon the outer steps, a wheez 
 ing purple-faced man, and a white-faced one who 
 smiled. And Jimmy Gordon had lifted his foot to 
 speed their parting guest, when an unforeseen 
 interruption spoiled this clear and happy intent. 
 
 Someone called Jimmy Gordon s name from the 
 street, and Jimmy recognized that someone s voice. 
 He looked up. Carol Landis was riding past, beside 
 Evelyn Latham at the wheel of her car, and both 
 girls waved a hand in greeting. In consternation 
 Jimmy released his visitor s coat collar, suddenly so 
 flushed and ludicrous a figure that he resembled 
 nothing so much as an abashed small boy, who had 
 been caught in a mischievously reprehensible act. 
 
 And then with one eye on the disappearing car, 
 which momentarily had become a menace to traffic, 
 since both driver and passenger were gazing back the 
 way they had come, he, too, bowed to T. Elihu. 
 From a distance he hoped it would appear to be a 
 polite and punctilious salutation.
 
 CONFERENCES 255 
 
 "So good of you to call, Mr. Banks," he mur 
 mured, but already there was contrition in his stifled 
 voice. "Come, Tivotson." 
 
 Followed by the little man he mounted the stairs. 
 For a brief instant he stood before a square glass on 
 the wall of the office, surveying his guilty counte 
 nance. Then Jimmy slumped into a chair, and with 
 Tivotson leaning against the desk, he soberly 
 thought over the happenings of the last few hours. 
 Then the storm surged up within him, and he 
 laughed until he groaned like a stricken man. 
 
 The same night of T. Elihu s visit at the office of 
 the Courier, shortly after twelve, one Whitey Gar- 
 ritty, out on bail on a charge of grand larceny, 
 which, twice postponed, was scheduled for trial early 
 in the winter, paused before the house of the District 
 Attorney, whose duty it would be to prosecute him. 
 Whistling ever so softly between his teeth, Whitey 
 stopped there a while, making certain that he was 
 alone and unobserved on that part of the street. 
 The reconnaissance satisfactory, he slipped from the 
 sidewalk to a clump of bushes on the lawn and 
 waited again, and from there to the entry of Mr, 
 Jameson s residence. Trying the knob with sophis 
 ticated fingers, Whitey felt the door yield, and 
 without the formality of so much as a knock to 
 announce himself, he swung it open. Announce 
 ment, however, was unnecessary. Mr. Jameson rose 
 from his chair in the library at the end of the hall, 
 where he had been waiting.
 
 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 There was, in Whitey s entrance, a certain air of 
 familiarity, both with his surroundings and toward 
 his host a truculent consciousness of his own ex 
 ceeding cleverness, which was Whitey s chief char 
 acteristic. Nor was this manner lost upon Mr. 
 Jameson, who had reason to know that, in truth, 
 familiarity was the forerunner of contempt. Had 
 Garritty entered the drawing-room of T. Elihu 
 Banks home and seated himself in such fashion, T. 
 Elihu would have pitched him immediately from a 
 window, no matter how urgent his need. Instead, 
 Mr. Jameson tendered a match for the cigarette 
 pendant on the pasty-faced visitor s lower lip. 
 
 Whitey struck the match, applied it to his cigar 
 ette, watching Mr. Jameson s perturbation mean 
 while over his shielding hand. 
 
 "What s give you the shakes?" he demanded 
 then, as he swung one leg oyer the chair arm. 
 
 In a way, the question was not remarkable under 
 the circumstances. Mr. Jameson s condition was 
 both palpitant and palpable. 
 
 "A most unfortunate occurrence," he replied, 
 remaining upon his feet. "Most unfortunate. A 
 a crisis which confronts both of us, I might say." 
 
 "Well, what d yuh know about that," Whitey 
 answered unenthusiastically. "Where s the jam?" 
 
 "A transaction of importance several transac 
 tions, to be explicit of the last administration, are 
 likely to be held up to public scrutiny. And while 
 there is nothing ah out of the ordinary to char 
 acterize them, it is very possible that certain details,
 
 CONFERENCES 257 
 
 necessary to expediency, may be misconstrued 
 as " 
 
 Whitey waved a long white hand. 
 
 "Go no further, pal. I get yuh !" he said. "Some 
 body s squealed that s it, eh?" 
 
 "Partly, yes." 
 
 "Didn t he get his bit?" 
 
 "Yes, but " 
 
 "Then let him holler his head off," advised the 
 truculent Mr. Garritty. "A lot it ll get him except 
 an excursion up the river!" 
 
 "There is, however, a complicating element," Mr. 
 Jameson explained. "It has become known to the 
 opposition newspaper." 
 
 "Good-night!" exclaimed Garritty. 
 
 "You hadn t noticed the last few issues of the 
 Courier"?" the other inquired. 
 
 "I don t bother my head with those hick sheets," 
 said Garritty. "Jumped you already, have they?" 
 
 "They have." 
 
 Mr. Jameson took a turn or two up and down 
 the room, and finally approached the gist of the 
 interview. "There will be another district attorney 
 to try your case," he husked, trying to make the 
 disclosure dramatic, "unless we do something." 
 
 Whitey straightened in a distinctly unpleasant 
 way. 
 
 "So that s it?" he sneered. "Sometimes it s a 
 wonder to me you don t get to talking and meet 
 yourself coming back. Now just what was we 
 expected to do!"
 
 258 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 "Tivotson could be managed if if the other one 
 was out of the way." 
 
 "Not me ! Not when I can jump to Canada twice 
 as easy!" Whitey s refusal was so final that the 
 district attorney knew Whitey had taken him too 
 entirely at his word. 
 
 "I I meant nothing so drastic," he hastened to 
 state. "I was merely suggesting that perhaps some 
 little occurrence could be arranged which would re 
 dound to Gordon s public discredit, or or whereby 
 he and his nefarious activity might be confined until 
 after election. He has already been before me to 
 answer for a misdemeanor. Eight years ago I gave 
 him twenty-four hours to get out of town " 
 
 Jameson stopped and backed away from the Gar- 
 ritty who had leaped to his feet. Slit-eyed, head 
 drawn down between his shoulders, Garritty stood 
 staring at him, hate in his cruel hands and his twitch 
 ing lips. 
 
 "Gordon," he snarled, "Jimmy Gordon^-the 
 town s amateur bad man! So he s back at last, is 
 he?" His voice became a crooning monotone. 
 "And he s going to slip a new district attorney over 
 on me, is he, and send me up for a stretch?" 
 
 He glared palely at Jameson. 
 
 "Why couldn t you talk straight for once in your 
 life," he demanded, "and save me that time? See 
 
 that scar? That s where his got 
 
 me over the head with a chair, that night I d a done 
 for him in Hanlon s, for cuttin in on- my game. I 
 been looking for that bird for eight years!"
 
 CONFERENCES 259 
 
 He turned, and, too weak in the knees to follow, 
 Jameson allowed him to reach the door before he 
 could speak. 
 
 "Nothing d-d-drastic," he stuttered. "Noth 
 ing -" 
 
 Garritty flung a harsh laugh back at him. 
 
 "Drastic hell! Pass the word on to your crowd 
 that they can cheer up," said Garritty. "And you 
 can put in your time framin an alibi for me." 
 
 Without moving, Jameson heard the door open 
 and close. Long after his visitor had gone he stood 
 there, staring vacantly before him. At first he tried 
 to convince himself that he had put a wrong con 
 struction upon Whitey s threat, but found that 
 ground untenable in remembering Garritty s face. 
 Thereupon he shifted to the other extreme. If vio 
 lence did result it was Garrity s affair and Gordon s. 
 He had meant to suggest no such ghastly reprisal. 
 
 Just once he thought of a way back which still 
 lay open to him. He got as far as the telephone 
 before his nerve forsook him, and he collapsed in 
 a chair. 
 
 Judge Jameson had won considerable fame as a 
 terror at cross-examination. His eloquent forceful- 
 ness, dynamic and without mercy, in summing up 
 before a jury, had torn the hope from the eyes of 
 more than one wretched specimen of humanity, who 
 had dared to hope, pitifully jaunty and assured, unto 
 the very eleventh hour. He had been a blast of 
 righteous wrath before which they faltered and hung 
 their heads.
 
 2 6o HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 And now "Judge" Jameson could not hold his 
 own head erect. In a way his perspective had 
 become altered. From time to time he shuddered, 
 as if from a chill. To hide those faces which he 
 remembered too vividly now, he covered his face 
 with his hands.
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 THE GREAT CARL HARDY 
 
 TWO nights later, seated across the room 
 from her, Jimmy Gordon laid aside the 
 second act, which he had finished reading 
 aloud, and lifted his head to Carol Landis with an 
 odd admixture of apologetic self-consciousness and 
 concern. 
 
 "Of course, it s still very much in the rough," he 
 ventured; and then, noting how thoughtfully quiet 
 she sat, lapsed into silence himself. 
 
 After waiting for two days for him to try again, 
 Carol, unerringly certain as to his emotions the 
 afternoon he called to find her out, had called him 
 up on the telephone, partly because her desire to 
 see him would not brook further delay, partly be 
 cause she had, that very afternoon, received from 
 Hardy an unbelievably hopeful letter, which she 
 did not immediately mention to him, however, when 
 he arrived at eight in obedience to her summons. 
 
 For the excellence, or lack of it, in the second act 
 he had just finished reading, she had little mind for 
 the moment. The first few pages had convinced 
 her that above all else it possessed the "human" note 
 which Hardy wrote must be sustained by her new 
 
 261
 
 262 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 discovery to fulfil the great promise of the first act 
 she had sent him. It was her very familiarity with 
 the material which went to form these new scenes 
 which sent through her a wave of pity and a hotter 
 wave of pride. 
 
 Never until then had she been able to understand 
 the hunger of the boy to mingle with those who 
 would have none of his society. Even in the days 
 when her sympathy had been readiest and her scorn 
 for those who "dwelt upon the hill" a very real, 
 though carefully concealed, thing in his presence, she 
 had only thought to understand. She pitied that 
 boy s wistful loneliness now, but the pride which her 
 newer discovery had brought tugged at her throat. 
 
 The Courier extra she had read, and wondered 
 over vastly. Unbelievable though it was, there were 
 moments when she was almost certain that she had 
 surprised Jimmy Gordon in the highly uncharacter 
 istic act of kicking T. Elihu Banks from his door 
 step. But now she knew! 
 
 Suddenly, without a word, she rose and flew 
 across to him and threw both arms about his neck, 
 drawing his head against her brighter one as im 
 pulsively and quite as unconsciously as in other years. 
 
 "Jimmy!" she gasped. "And I never suspected 
 you ! I thought all along " she gave up trying to 
 explain coherently, and laughed unsteadily instead. 
 "I never can tell what you are thinking about," she 
 finished accusingly. 
 
 And Jimmy, not only because he understood, but 
 also because he felt equally as sure concerning the
 
 THE GREAT CARL HARDY 263 
 
 impulse which had tightened her arms about his 
 neck, reached up and unwound them, as casually as 
 he had done when an undemonstrative boy. 
 
 "You like it?" he ventured again. "It s not too 
 bad?" 
 
 She stood a moment, a little disheveled, looking 
 down at him from very brilliant, suddenly embar 
 rassed eyes. Then she went demurely back to her 
 chair. 
 
 "What a forward thing for me to do! Please 
 lay it to my temperament, Jimmy," she laughed. But 
 she could not even feign lightness. 
 
 "It s wonderful ! It s oh, I m so absurdly glad. 
 Years ago I was fraid that they d hurt the very spirit 
 of you beyond all mending. Only a few days ago at 
 the club I thought you were still bitter, still bewil 
 dered and unable to understand." She pointed to 
 the script, and startled him by putting into words one 
 of his most intimate thoughts. "I thought you were 
 one of the cast, playing just a little, and and 
 miserably unhappy part, and instead you were merely 
 watching from the wings. And now you ve written 
 it there not in cynicism not with satirical mean 
 ness of spirit. Jimmy, when you grin that crooked 
 little absent-minded grin, are you are you laughing 
 hysterically at all of us deep within yourself?" 
 
 She had seen him flush many times at her efforts 
 to peer behind his preoccupation, but never so hotly 
 before. 
 
 "And I never dreamed it until now," she mur 
 mured. "You sober-faced, blinking fraud I"
 
 264 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 There seemed to be nothing for him to say in 
 response to that. He continued to smile. And 
 thereupon she remembered Hardy s letter. 
 
 . . . Rarely read a first act by an inexperienced 
 playwright which was so finished in form and so full 
 of promise. If your new discovery (you failed to 
 mention his name) can maintain in his succeeding 
 acts the note of simplicity which makes his work so 
 convincing I feel certain that we have found the 
 vehicle for which we have been searching. When 
 in Warchester (if possible I shall see you within 
 two weeks) will it be feasible to discuss this with 
 the author in person?" 
 
 There was a sardonic quality in Jimmy s expres 
 sion as he listened to that letter. Carol almost sur 
 prised it as she looked up, at the end, flushed herself 
 and triumphant. 
 
 "Bless his heart!" she said. "And think of it, 
 Jimmy. Hardy the great Carl Hardy! But I 
 knew he d be just like that !" 
 
 Indeed, Jimmy was thinking of that very person, 
 trying hard not to wish the man less worthy of the 
 ecstatic note in her voice. Before all other men 
 Jimmy respected and valued Carl Hardy. Suddenly 
 he had learned also what it was to envy him. 
 
 "He is a a very courteous gentleman," he an 
 swered slowly. 
 
 The girl s perplexed frown passed so fleetly before 
 a flash of amusement that he utterly failed to no 
 tice it. 
 
 "He s splendid !" she cried. "Wait until you really
 
 THE GREAT CARL HARDY 265 
 
 know him. Oh, I ve never been quite so happy in 
 all my life as I am over his letter." 
 
 "I should be I am a very lucky young man," 
 Jimmy said. 
 
 But, in taking his leave a few minutes later, he 
 restrained amazingly the elation which a struggling 
 author might have been expected to display upon the 
 tentative acceptance of his first play. 
 
 Because she seemed not to feel his mood, he 
 congratulated himself that it was well hidden, and 
 he was turning away when a stifled cry from her 
 checked him. She was pointing stiffly at a patch of 
 shadow on the lawn. 
 
 "Someone was standing there back of that tree," 
 she whispered. "A man who ran." 
 
 Jimmy s eyes strained in the direction of her out 
 stretched arm. Puzzled, he descended the steps. 
 
 "If he was there," he came back to dismiss the 
 occurrence lightly, for he believed he knew the ex 
 planation of it, "he s taken himself off in a hurry. 
 But if you re nervous " 
 
 She laughed, not quite easily. 
 
 "I m not," she assured him. "Only only please 
 don t leave the lighted streets for some dark short 
 cut on your way back, will you, Jimmy? And don t 
 think that I m womanishly absurd." 
 
 He promised, and promptly forgot all about it in 
 a recollection of the glowing face with which she had 
 read Hardy s letter. And so Hardy had planned to 
 be in Warchester in two weeks. Well, who could 
 help but care for Carl Hardy!
 
 2 66 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 And then, with the alley which ran past the Palace 
 Theater to the door of Hanlon s Hotel yawning 
 black before him, curiously enough he remembered 
 her warning and his promise, and smiled over it 
 gravely. He stood an instant, wondering if she had 
 already promised Hardy. 
 
 His heels rang measuredly upon the alley pave 
 ment. He had forgotten again the blotch of shadow 
 upon the lawn, and the man who ran. And then 
 there was a stir, soundless and sibilant, close behind 
 him. 
 
 Crouching, he sprang into the deeper shadow 
 against the left wall. Hugging that blank, brick sur 
 face, he crouched and ran for the hotel lights, utterly 
 without shame for his surrender to instinct. And he 
 had crossed the open court, and was reaching out to 
 fling open the door when his hat left his head as if 
 plucked therefrom by an invisible hand. 
 
 Behind him a yellow flame lanced the darkness. 
 In the narrow confines of the alley a gun roared 
 deafeningly. Mechanically and unheroically Jimmy 
 stooped in his stride to pick up his hat. He heard 
 the second ball thud into the door above him, waist- 
 high, had he been erect. 
 
 And then the door was open, and, with the flood 
 of light that dazzled his eyes, Hanlon came out like 
 an avalanche. His mad rush swept Jimmy aside like 
 a bit of chaff. Like an avalanche, he went roaring 
 down the alley.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 SMALL TOWN STUFF 
 
 AFTER he had picked himself up, Jimmy 
 Gordon stood for a few moments motion 
 less before the hotel entrance, gazing from 
 the hole in his hat to the one waist-high in the heavy 
 door of Hanlon s, with an emotion so peculiarly 
 complex that he was entirely unaware of the little 
 knot of people which began instantly to collect about 
 him. 
 
 Like flies to tainted meat, the first gunshot, the 
 first hint of violence, had brought them swarming 
 from what, a breath before, had seemed empty court 
 yard and emptier alleyway; hard-faced, wise-eyed 
 figures, murmurous without being noisy about it, and 
 differing greatly from the crowd which a public street 
 accident invariably provokes, in that they maintained 
 a truly notable self-restraint. The central figure, 
 obviously uninjured, was subjected neither to absurd 
 interrogations anent his condition, nor called upon to 
 lend an ear to unsought opinion concerning his assail 
 ant. In truth, so unobtrusive were they that Hanlon 
 had come stumping back up the alley and jostled 
 roughly through to his side before Jimmy realized 
 that he was no longer alone upon the scene. Hanlon 
 
 267
 
 268 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 hooked one arm through his elbow and led him in 
 side the hotel. 
 
 There was a fresh scar on the inner surface of 
 the door below the bullet-hole; a long and jagged 
 splinter lay on the "office" floor, torn loose by that 
 bullet; and beyond, at the opposite side of the room, 
 fragments of plaster from the wall. 
 
 Jimmy stood staring at this minor damage, un 
 impeachable confirmation of the entirely serious and 
 businesslike intent of the one in whose hand the gun 
 had roared. Humorously aghast when he lifted his 
 eyes, Jimmy s expression became sheepish as he per 
 ceived the fierce anxiety in Hanlon s regard. 
 
 "I m all right," he said, hastily reassuring. "I 
 leaned over to pick up my hat just before he fired 
 the second time. The first one " He seemed to 
 find the explanation too preposterously theatrical for 
 words, and merely pointed shamefacedly at the hole 
 in his hat. 
 
 But there was no visible softening in Hanlon s 
 features, nor did his rigid body relax. Instead, his 
 wooden leg thumped most mightily upon the floor 
 as he sprang toward a window behind that chair 
 toward which the younger man turned. And yet, 
 quick as he was and there was a ferocious instan- 
 taneousness in his action the white-faced waiter 
 whose body looked soft and flabby was incredibly 
 quicker. He leaped and drew the shade against the 
 outer blackness of the night, and then moved the 
 chair farther down the wall. 
 
 At that the editor of the Courier stood and gazed
 
 SMALL TOWN STUFF 269 
 
 from one face to the other. Hanlon s was as bleak 
 as a wind-worn wall of rock, and as dire. Upon 
 the waiter s countenance there was nothing readable. 
 Many a time Jimmy had seen him spread a fresh 
 cloth in the dining-room with a greater display of 
 emotion. And suddenly he felt unconscionably 
 foolish. 
 
 Somehow, up to that point, the incident had im 
 pressed him as freakishly unreal; it had all happened 
 too swiftly to be definitely dismaying. And now, 
 this last precaution, the pulling of the shade, seemed 
 little short of farcical. With the disappearance of 
 the faintly crooked deprecatory grin, with which he 
 had first faced Hanlon, his color heightened, until 
 more than anything else he suggested a man self 
 consciously realizing himself to be the butt of a prac 
 tical joke. 
 
 "See here, Pegleg," he expostulated, surprised to 
 find that his voice was not quite steady. "Why, man, 
 you don t mean that you think those bullets were 
 really intended for me!" 
 
 "For whom, thin?" demanded Hanlon. 
 
 Jimmy blinked at that laconic abruptness. 
 
 "I I m sure I don t know," he faltered. "I 
 thought, perhaps, some of your precious patrons had 
 developed a mutual distaste for each other, or 
 or " 
 
 A look passing wonder crossed his face, and he 
 broke off speaking to grope dizzily behind him. 
 Chancing to glance again at the door, blazed waist- 
 high by the second ball, he had experienced an in-
 
 270 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 explicable faintness in the pit of his stomach. Hanlon 
 nodded crisply in comprehension. 
 
 "Ye ll do betther sittin down," he said, "till ye re 
 steadier in the knees. Twas a dir-rty shot, sweetly 
 placed the first wan was hurried." He turned to 
 the white-aproned waiter, who had begun to move 
 toward the door. "Ye ll bide a bit," he ordered; 
 and then as shortly to Jimmy: "Now, unless ye feel 
 too little like talkin " 
 
 Hanlon s attitude toward the occurrence began to 
 be very clear, and there was little excuse to miscon 
 strue the meaning in his unfinished suggestion. But 
 when Jimmy, in a fashion half-puzzled and wholly 
 out of countenance, began his recital with that 
 moment when he had hesitated at the mouth of the 
 alley, Hanlon checked him impatiently. 
 
 "At the beginnin , an ye don t mind," he snapped. 
 
 So, after a moment s thought, Jimmy began 
 farther back, with a report of T. Elihu s second visit 
 to the Courier office, and an almost facetious explan 
 ation of the business which had brought him there. 
 
 "Thirty thousand was his figure, Pegleg," he said, 
 "and a very handsome and liberal one, I d call it. 
 You ll admit that the temptation was considerable. 
 If I hadn t known that Tivotson was waiting on the 
 stairs, to help escort the august gentleman to the 
 street level, I don t know but what I might " 
 He laughed, but Pegleg did not join in his amuse 
 ment. Instead, a light, which disturbed him more 
 than vaguely, flashed for an instant in those polished 
 agate eyes.
 
 SMALL TOWN STUFF 27 1 
 
 Without comment, Hanlon waited until the 
 younger man made mention of the man in the shadow 
 on Carol Landis s lawn the man who ran and the 
 girl s admonishment to avoid the byways and stick 
 to the highways which were well lighted; but there 
 he gave voice to a savagely exaultant exclamation, 
 and wheeled toward the waiter. 
 
 "There was never any doubt from the begin 
 ning," he rumbled. " was a waste of time, but ye ll 
 waste no more." 
 
 Immediately watching the change that came over 
 that waiter s face, Jimmy felt his spine crawl. 
 Theatrical or not, farcical or otherwise, up to that 
 point, the evening s events achieved suddenly, even 
 in his eyes, a sinister aspect. Until then Jimmy had 
 never seen that white-aproned one smile, nor known 
 him to offer speech. Now the contented cruelty of 
 his grin was as amazing as the perfect precision of 
 his words and accent. 
 
 "Am I to reason with him," the waiter asked 
 softly, "and try to convince him of the error of his 
 ways ?" 
 
 The wicked leer in the query held Jimmy dumb. 
 He waited to protest against such dispassionate dis 
 cussion of a man s disposal, to cry out against this 
 mummery which was so unexpectedly, so insanely am 
 bitious of a tragic mask. But Hanlon maintained 
 a sort of surface complacency; even with black, blind 
 rage struggling for utterance. 
 
 "Till I give ye the worrud, ye livid-lipped mon 
 goose," he answered, "till I give ye the worrud, ye ll
 
 272 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 keep yere lingers from his throat. Ye ll find him 
 first, and when ye do ye ll report back here to me. 
 I m eager like for a worrud in the gintleman s ear 
 meself." 
 
 And Jimmy, still unable to speak, sat and watched 
 the waiter lay aside his white apron and turn toward 
 the door. He noticed how the man s hands hung 
 palms out, noticed his changed gait. There was fas 
 cination in those light footfalls. And then, after the 
 door had opened and closed, he shot to his feet and 
 started to follow; realized the weak futility of that 
 impulse; whirled to find Pegleg watching him. All 
 but a word or two was hushed by the look upon 
 Pegleg s face. 
 
 "You can t turn that that beast loose, Pegleg," 
 he exclaimed. "Good God, man, it s it s ridiculous 
 preposterous! It s mad! It s opera-bouffe gone 
 mad! And he licked his lips as he went out, as 
 though he were already tasting blood." 
 
 Pegleg s calmness hushed him. 
 
 "So ye re in earnest at last, are ye?" he asked, 
 a strange tinge of reproach in his voice. Tis no 
 longer merely entertaining an amusin -like to you?" 
 He laughed an ugly chuckle, grew quickly sober 
 again, and jerked a thumb toward the fresh blaze 
 on the door. 
 
 "An was that a bit av absurdity, too?" he in 
 quired. "Was that intirely ridiculous? Faith, an 
 ye ve never seen a man die, have ye, who s afther 
 got it through the belt? Pfaugh! Tis a sick place 
 to be shot!"
 
 SMALL TOWN STUFF 273 
 
 Thereupon Jimmy was possessed of a strange con 
 viction. Indeed, Hanlon had spoken accurately. 
 Until that moment, in spirit he had been nothing 
 more or less than a quietly amused onlooker in War- 
 chester, who had thought merely to aggravate a sit 
 uation or two for his own private and whimsical 
 purpose. In all that had taken place since his return, 
 he had been conscious only of that element of human 
 comedy, valuable indeed to him, which seemed to 
 yield harmlessly enough to his desire. 
 
 He came to believe now that the threat of violence 
 which was stalking not himself, but the poor, un 
 known enthusiast, who crack-brained no doubt in the 
 first place, and inflamed to hatred by the Courier s 
 lighthearted attacks upon T. Elihu s immaculateness, 
 had fired at him, was as utterly a thing of his own 
 creation. He was convinced that the blame was his, 
 if violence did result. And Pegleg, his suspicions 
 already stirred on another occasion, saw the guilty 
 consternation upon his face, and grew very, very sure 
 of his ground. 
 
 He leaned forward to put a hand upon the young 
 man s knee. 
 
 "Jimmy, lad," he said, "just once ye ve lied to me 
 just once, these last few days, because ye have not 
 told me the whole truth. Sur-re an your own affairs 
 are your own, an ye wish to keep thim to yerself. 
 But it shames me to meself to have been so easily 
 fooled. 
 
 "YeVe been home but a little time, reckoned in 
 days. More in hours and more than that in minutes,
 
 274 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 an I ve known many a man, through inattention to 
 detail and lack av observation, to achieve a prema- 
 tuer eternity in the fraction av a second, tis true. 
 I should have guessed it at the first second I saw ye, 
 yet ye fooled me, what with yer blinkin lids and 
 lazy grin. I thought to welcome ye back tired av 
 the husks, and mabby with the taste av failure grown 
 bitter in yere belly. An instead, twas good fortune 
 ye d found ye were certian to do that and shame 
 to me perspicacity. But ye ll talk now, an I ll 
 listen." 
 
 A gust of confusion flushed Jimmy s thin face. 
 Guiltier than ever, and more than ever self-conscious, 
 he sat trying to meet Hanlon s level regard. And 
 then, without defense or comment, in a halting fash 
 ion that matched the quizzical look that had come 
 back into his eyes, he "talked" as Hanlon bade him. 
 
 At times the huge and grizzled figure opposite him 
 nodded his head understandingly, while Jimmy spoke 
 with transparent jauntiness of prolonged periods 
 when even "husks" had been extremely acceptable. 
 Oftener he listened with downcast eyes and bushy 
 eyebrows drawn together in a beetling frown, so that 
 the speaker saw little of the glow which a mention 
 of "As Ye Sow" and "Unless Ye Believe" kindled in 
 his eyes two metropolitan successes credited to the 
 pen of one Gordon James, a playwright essentially 
 American, both in form and* philosophy. He was 
 still frowning when Jimmy apprized him of the real 
 errand which had brought him back to Warchester,
 
 SMALL TOWN STUFF 275 
 
 and halted there, lamely apologetic once more. 
 
 "You mustn t believe that I hit upon the idea with 
 a thought to patronize, or or caricature or lam 
 poon, Pegleg," he attempted, finding the huge man s 
 silence unendurable. 
 
 And then Pegleg s head came up. He was smiling 
 enigmatically, though his lips were still grim. 
 
 "To obsarve and chronicle the city of War- 
 chester," he proceeded to make of the explanation an 
 amiably satirical digest, "and turn her into a play-act 
 to make a holiday for the multitudes." He nodded 
 again, his eyes twinkling momentarily. Twas like 
 ye. Yours was a peculiar brand av cussedness 
 always. Always ye had to put yere hand into the 
 fire to find out that the fire burned. Hearsay never 
 satisfied ye; second-hand knowledge was never for 
 the likes av ye. 
 
 "I could tell ye how glad I am; I could say I 
 knew ye d do it some day, only there is too much 
 language squandered every day without me indulging 
 in loquacious transparencies. I could even regret the 
 pity I ve wasted on ye, and the hungry hopes I ve had 
 that ye d win through, but tis something else I ve 
 in mind wan point that is not so clear to me, nor 
 to you, either, I m thinkin . 
 
 "Ye say that ye wrote an act that once ye lived, 
 some eight years ago, and, by the saints, didn t I 
 watch ye live it! Ye say ye ve come back to lave 
 this community finish yere play for ye, because it must 
 be real because it must be as true to type as the 
 part ye lived yerself. And yet ye sat there, a minute
 
 276 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 back, and believed that ye were alone responsible for 
 
 that " He indicated the plaster spattered by the 
 
 ball on the floor. "Aye, lad, I saw it in yere eyes. 
 In yere eyes twas an unforseen and annoyin develop 
 ment which ye believed ye should and could have 
 anticipated and prevented. 
 
 "Faith, ye ve become twisted about. Y ve lost 
 yere old tr-rick av clear reason. Perfessin yourself 
 eager to write whatever was provided for yere pencil, 
 because yere the same boy who wore fringe to his 
 pants in the pursuit av knowledge which ye believed 
 was essential, already ye ve been thinkin to persuade 
 this town to a performance which fits yere own pre 
 conceived notions av what such a nice orderly per 
 formance should be. Ah, lad, I tell ye now, you re 
 not stage-manager enough for that you nor I, Elihu 
 Banks, either!" 
 
 They sat gazing earnestly into each other s eyes, 
 Jimmy s alight not only with startled appreciation of 
 the justice of the crafty criticism, but anticipation as 
 well for that which most certainly it must preface; 
 Pegleg s aglow with the fervor of his preachment. 
 
 "But it was all sheer comedy," Jimmy argued 
 flatly, at length. "Even T. Elihu s visit, and my 
 disgraceful conduct toward him, and Tivotson. Why, 
 even his offer of hush money " 
 
 "Ye think so?" Hanlon s voice rose until it 
 boomed through the room. "Ye think so An from 
 which point av view yere newly acquired wan based 
 upon a balance in the bank and siveral tr-runks full
 
 SMALL TOWN STUFF 277 
 
 av clothes, or that av the lean an hungry divil ye 
 were in the prologue av the piece? Thin what 
 about old Dave Landis? By the same token, was 
 the willin av the Courier to you, which made the 
 visit av the great Mr. Banks an unplisant necessity 
 was that a travisty, too? Faith in retribution is 
 going out av fashion, but I am one of the simple- 
 minded who still hold to the belief. I witnessed that 
 will, just as, for years, I witnessed the slow ruin av 
 the man who made it." 
 
 He paused as if to give the other a fair chance 
 to reply, but Jimmy sat silent, staring hard into 
 Hanlon s seamed face. 
 
 "Y ve mixed up yere viewpoints," the latter went 
 on, when it was clear to him that the other did not 
 mean to speak, "ye ll need to go back to that av the 
 bhoy ye were eight years ago, whin thirty thousand 
 would have been something more than a joke to 
 chuckle over within yerself, to regain yere needed 
 perspective. Yet if humor ye still insist the offer 
 av that triflin sum to be, then we ll consider the girl 
 called Melody, who found living hard and dying 
 easy. Ye ve not forgot the day ye searched for a 
 man to preach her funeral service, I ll warrant, for 
 twas not so long ago ye set forth on that errand. 
 No? An yet ye fail to remimber a night eight yeans 
 ago a night they gave ye twenty-four hours to leave 
 town? That hole in your hat? That bullet splash 
 there in me wall! Lad lad, eight years ago, she 
 whom we knew as Melody gave Whitey Garritty the 
 cue for them two shots that missed ye tonight whin
 
 278 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 she sint a chair rockettin across a table into his bad 
 face, and saved ye alive to write plays. 
 
 "What?" Jimmy s voice rang like a shot. 
 
 Hanlon stopped him with an imperious gesture. 
 
 "Who else did ye think it was ? He promised then 
 he s promised often enough since that he d one day 
 get ye. And has it not been made easy for him, and 
 safe?" 
 
 Pegleg sat and shook his head from side to side. 
 
 "Ye are a grave disappointment to me. Ye never 
 took yerself seriously praise God for that, for ye d 
 have been dead by now if ye had but, Jimmy, ye ve 
 underestimated the town that never would have aught 
 av ye, the town that taught ye half av one hard les 
 son, and to which ye claimed to return shtill a stu 
 dent." 
 
 Again he had to lift a preemptory hand. 
 
 "Aye, I know! Small town stuff, I ve heard it 
 called with supreme scorn. Small town stuff ! and 
 ye ll not endeavor to protest till I have finished, for 
 twill avail ye little ! Tis a favorite phrase av the 
 sophisticated dwellers in this metropolis or that; a 
 patronizing estimate an I do not mean to throw 
 yer words in yer face av the imitation, inadequate 
 wickedness av provincial places. 
 
 "Pfaugh! Blind fools! The wan worst com 
 munity I ever knew was a town av four hundred 
 souls. Aye, ye re still younger than I thought, for 
 by the blessed grace av youth, ye ve half forget what 
 once ye knew to yere sorrow. Meanness is not a 
 matther of geography, nor does viciousness depend
 
 SMALL TOWN STUFF 279 
 
 upon population. Human nature is human nature, ir- 
 rispective av longitude or latitude, or the last cinsus 
 report. Jimmy, lad, ye ve felt foolish this night, 
 ye ve felt ashamed av yerself for participatin in a 
 performance so theatrical an silly, when ye should 
 have been thankin hiven that ye ar re not lyin yon 
 der on the pavement coughin to keep yere throat 
 clear av blood. 
 
 "But ye ll take it more serious-like now or would 
 ye still be thinkin to change the greed av T. Elihu 
 Banks, the hope av the Civic Reform party for U. S. 
 Senator, by a few minor alterations av yere play- 
 dialogue ? Would ye still think to. correct District 
 Attorney Jameson s interpretation av his role, and 
 recast him as an honest man, with a man s instincts 
 and courage, instead av the desperation av a cor 
 nered rat?" 
 
 Jimmy sat gazing at the floor. 
 
 "I understand," he said heavily. "You speak as 
 though you were, sure, and yet " 
 
 "Ther-re ar re iliments av dr-rama which ye have 
 overlooked. Shall I be afther sketchin for ye, with 
 out claim to literary excellence, a scene or two which, 
 mayhap, ye have failed to imagine?" 
 
 Jimmy signed with a shake of his head the need- 
 lessness of such a course. 
 
 "I understand," he repeated slowly. "You think 
 Banks went to Jameson after he saw me, and that 
 Jameson went to Garritty." 
 
 "Garritty went to Jameson," Hanlon corrected 
 him, "at Jameson s order, or to be choice av words
 
 28o HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 an their meanin , at Jameson s invitation. And 
 Jameson told him that there might be a new district- 
 attorney to try his case, come the next session av 
 court, what with the return av Jimmy Gordon to 
 Warchester." 
 
 The editor of the Courier did not reply imme 
 diately. He rose, with an odd air of preoccupation, 
 and paced several times the length of the room and 
 back, his tall body slightly stooped, his thin features 
 averted. Once he stopped and stood rubbing his 
 chin with the tips of his fingers, his back to the huge 
 and grizzled man who watched him with growing 
 trouble in his gaze. 
 
 "It s damned disconcerting," he murmured loud 
 enough for, Hanlon to hear him, "damned annoying. 
 That was your word, I believe." 
 
 Thereupon Hanlon s fierce old eyes were no longer 
 merely troubled. They glistened with a look close 
 akin to actual fright, fear of utter disillusionment. 
 Twice he cleared his throat, yet the voice he sum 
 moned, though gruffer than before, was heavy, too, 
 with disappointment. 
 
 "I ve heard that manny a successful play has been 
 written in a three-room suite overlookin the Aveny- 
 noo," he ventured. "The old belief in the inspiration 
 to be won in an unheated attic was long since proved 
 to be as false as the handicap av three meals a day. 
 An ye did not come here to embroil yerself in a 
 political vendetta." 
 
 Hungrily he waited for his answer. It gave him 
 small comfort when it came.
 
 SMALL TOWN STUFF 281 
 
 "That s true," said Jimmy, ruminatingly. "And 
 that s not the worst of it, either. I was thinking 
 of your criticism of my fickle point of view. I m 
 afraid, Pegleg, it ll be necessary for me to change 
 the entire plan of my third act." 
 
 At that Hanlon s hands gripped the arms of his 
 chair until the knot-like knuckles turned blue. Slowly, 
 then, he came to his feet tensely. Jimmy wheeled 
 to front him. The face that he presented to Han- 
 Ion s eager scrutiny was not the face of the Jimmy 
 Gordon who had attempted an interruption a few 
 minutes before. And as Pegleg had silenced him 
 then, so now he silenced Pegleg. His stiff guesture 
 matched the sternness of his pale eyes and slightly 
 crooked lips. There was neither mildness, nor a 
 trace of his old-time perpetual apology upon him. 
 
 "Just an opportunist, eh, Pegleg?" His voice held 
 a note of sadness. "And something of a poltroon! 
 Ah, I d never have believed it of you. I always 
 counted on a more generous estimate from you and 
 from one other." 
 
 The shaggy head bowed. 
 
 "Twice ye ve fooled me, twice now," he muttered 
 humbly. But his words trembled with exultance. 
 "An* how much have ye got written, already, lad, on 
 yere play-act? For, if ye ll not smile at me curiosity, 
 tis keen I am to read it. ... The play s the thing 
 aye, the play s the thing! All the world s a 
 stage!" 
 
 Jimmy approached the window and shot up the 
 shade, this time without objection from Hanlon. In
 
 282 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 the east the sky was graying with the first promise 
 of dawn, and a moment later when Hanlon moved 
 to his side, he saw that the boy s eyes were turned 
 toward that section of the city still designated by 
 the phrase "up on the hill." 
 
 It had been upon the old man s tongue to express 
 profound thankfulness that he was not Elihu Banks 
 or District Attorney Jameson that night. One 
 glimpse of the other s face checked him. 
 
 Jimmy was thinking of "Old Dave" Landis and 
 "Old Dave" Landis s daughter. Until then he had 
 never fully realized the measure of her bravery the 
 measure of her kindness to the boy he had been. 
 How cheerfully, how persistently she had given of 
 her courage. And how matter-of-fact had been his 
 acceptance. It was given to him to know at that 
 moment that tomorrow he would tell her, as best he 
 could. . . . 
 
 As he laid one hand upon Hanlon s arm, the sun 
 edged up over the horizon and touched the dingy 
 roofs with rose. Even the scum on the river shim 
 mered and was beautiful. 
 
 There was poetry in the soul of the proprietor of 
 
 Hanlon s place. He had a prophet s clear vision. 
 
 Tis tomorrow already, lad," he murmured, and 
 
 pointed with a gnarled forefinger. "Aye and tis 
 
 not such a bad town afther all."
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 JUST JIMMY GORDON 
 
 JIMMY went to sleep that morning, almost as 
 soon as his head touched the pillow, and 
 though he was half conscious at times of the 
 presence of Abel who came a-tiptoe once to draw 
 the shades against the bold summer sunshine, and 
 again and again to fuss and putter with them 
 officiously, it was late afternoon before he awakened 
 to find himself possessed of a strange excitement. 
 
 For a time he lay motionless, quite unaware either 
 of the hour, or the day, or the week, drowsily trying 
 to reconcile the incident of the previous evening with 
 the humming stillness and his present persistent pre 
 monition of an impending event of surpassing glory. 
 He had almost convinced himself that both the 
 strange premonition and the bullet-hole in the door 
 downstairs, were as much a part of a dream as was 
 his recollection of the ringing of many bells, when 
 Abel, entering again, with caution so elaborate that 
 it defeated the end it should have served, since in 
 watching his histrionic effort in the mirror, he blun 
 dered into a chair, rolled his eyes, saw that his em 
 ployer was already awake, and proceeded to set him 
 
 283
 
 284 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 right forthwith concerning the latter phenomenon. 
 
 Abel bewailed the church chimes, and expressed 
 hope that they had not spoiled "Mr. Goh don s" 
 slumbers. And at that Jimmy raised himself on one 
 elbow, with a show of haste somewhat startling to 
 the gentleman of color. Of course ! No wonder he 
 had wakened with a sense of impending events of 
 large importance. Upon retiring he had entertained 
 a very definite plan for this Sabbath afternoon. But 
 with the first move, which raised him enough to bring 
 the top of the table at the foot of the bed into his 
 range of vision, much of his excitement and happy 
 spontaneity of purpose left him. 
 
 There was a letter face up on the table, and the 
 appearance of it was familiar too disconcertingly, 
 unpleasantly familiar. Long after Abel had shot up 
 the shades, and brought it to him, with the explana 
 tion that it had come in on a late mail, had been 
 delivered at the Courier office, whence Tivotson had 
 dispatched it, thinking it might be of importance, 
 Jimmy sat gazing at Carl Hardy s letter. And then 
 he laid it aside unopened. It was a disturbing thing 
 in a way almost portentous but though his spirits 
 suffered a sudden drop he still clung to his Sabbath 
 plan, or what was left of it. But he no longer felt 
 exhilaration no longer thrilled at the thought of the 
 adventure. 
 
 He rose and dressed with a profound preoccupa 
 tion that was proof against even Abel s garrulity. 
 
 "Ain goin see at ole boy roun this heah town 
 again," he heard the gentleman of color declare,
 
 JUST JIMMY GORDON 285 
 
 without realizing that he was bewailing the lack of 
 success which had attended the flabby-looking 
 waiter s search for Garritty. "Ain no need lookin 
 foh him no mo heahabouts. At boy on his way 
 by now on his way!" 
 
 Jimmy murmured that doubtless such was the case, 
 and gave his entire attention to perfecting the knot 
 of his scarf. Abel was a trifle dashed by his manner. 
 His last observation had impressed him as the best 
 of his many attempts to approach conversationally 
 the wholly delightful topic of his employer s newest 
 bid for notoriety, and the result was definitely dis 
 couraging. Therefore he was doubly astonished the 
 next instant at winning his entire attention, by almost 
 no effort at all. 
 
 Jimmy had finished with his scarf, and turned. 
 And at the same moment, without a thought that it 
 was to prove in any way a sensation, Abel drew from 
 a side pocket of his coat a small, flat automatic pis 
 tol, dull with oil and destructively beautiful, and 
 tendered it quite casually enough, a final touch* for 
 an otherwise nicely complete toilet. The effect was 
 electrical instantaneous. But Jimmy s new bearing, 
 while vastly different, was even less satisfactory than 
 his previous absent-mindedness. 
 
 Staring at that compact firearm in Abel s out 
 stretched hand, his face grew redder and redder, until 
 Abel, thinking to read anger in that painful flush, 
 sought to clear himself by placing the blame for the 
 tactless blunder on one higher up. 
 
 "Hanlon, he done ordah me to give it to you,"
 
 286 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 he explained. "She ain big, and she ain bulky. 
 Nobody ain goin suspect she there in you pocket at 
 all. But, O my, she badl She bad when yuh tuhn 
 her loose!" 
 
 Undoubtedly "she" would be. "She" had a blunt 
 and businesslike look; and yet Jimmy s face, instead 
 of exhibiting appreciation of the very certain sense of 
 security which such a possession might be expected to 
 awake, only grew the redder. 
 
 On rising, quite automatically his mind had re 
 verted to his first estimate of the encounter with 
 Garritty, if encounter it could be called in the full 
 recollection of his ignominious flight up the alley. 
 The affair of the pistol not only worked a rapid 
 readjustment, but projected another angle of the 
 entire affair as well. 
 
 "Damnation!" he ejaculated, and instinctively dis 
 creet, Abel drew back the hand which held the offen 
 sive object. "This is going altogether too far. With 
 a little more such advertising, Hanlon ll have the 
 thing spread all over town." 
 
 At that outburst Abel s confusion .was plainly evi 
 denced. He stood and looked hard at his employer, 
 realizing with difficulty that he meant just what he 
 said, and not the exact opposite, as was the inexplic 
 able way of white folks, ofttimes, when humorously 
 inclined. 
 
 "All ovah town?" the gentleman of color echoed 
 wonderingly. "You mean " But he abandoned 
 the question, deciding that the meaning could be none 
 other. "Mist Goh don," he said, importantly, "no
 
 JUST JIMMY GORDON 287 
 
 advertisin am necessary. Since daybreak this heah 
 community ain been talkin of nuthin else." 
 
 Jimmy s hot color began to go, but his manner 
 remained somewhat desperately harassed. So, unob 
 trusively, Abel slipped the gun out of sight, and 
 busied himself exceedingly, for the nonce, doing noth 
 ing at all with a flourish, yet giving the impression 
 of one attending to large affairs too long neglected. 
 And then, at the sound of his employer s sudden 
 laughter, he desisted as suddenly. He wheeled with 
 a thankful expression in his eyes, even hinted hope 
 fully at the pocket in which lay the gun, but still 
 laughing, Jimmy checked him with a gesture. 
 
 "Is Hanlon in?" he asked, conscious of the count 
 less times he had asked the colored man the same 
 question. 
 
 Abel shook his head. 
 
 "He ain been home sense mawnin . He told me 
 to remind you to be roun tonight. Some gentlemen 
 comin in foh a little lection conference." 
 
 "Of course." And after a period of thought: 
 "Tell him I ll be back. And, Abel, when you return 
 his pistol to him, perhaps it would be just as well 
 if you explained that I forgot it left it lying on the 
 table here do you see?" 
 
 It had been Jimmy Gordon s firm intent to make 
 his way into the district which lay up on the hill by 
 the shorter, more conspicuous route that led past St. 
 Luke s, and T. Elihu s portals and, yes, the Latham 
 front veranda itself. In view of the reception ac-
 
 288 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 corded his passage along Main Street the day before, 
 he prided himself that this resolution savored almost 
 of dare-deviltry; and furthermore, for several days, 
 a whimsical wish had been upon him to verify an 
 ancient memory. 
 
 And now he knew that he would not dare essay 
 that highway. Thus had the pistol wrought upon 
 him. Standing there on the threshold, quizzically 
 hesitant, it was on his tongue to ask Abel s opinion 
 of such craven weakness. And then a new surge of 
 eagerness o erbore his desire for psychological dis 
 cussion even with the gentleman of color. Waking 
 he had known this was to be his day of splendid 
 adventure. 
 
 He left so hurriedly that Abel stood, mouth agape, 
 staring after. In his entire lifetime Abel had not yet 
 discovered a reasonable excuse for haste. 
 
 In speaking of the wide report which Whitey Gar- 
 ritty s attack upon the owner of the Courier had 
 already enjoyed, Abel Thompson, even with the 
 racial habit of happy exaggeration strong upon him, 
 had, if anything, failed to do the matter justice. 
 For, having flowed like spilled quicksilver to the four 
 quarters of the city, the news had ignored mere 
 municipal boundaries, to penetrate even the outlying 
 rural regions which drew upon Warchester not only 
 for political propaganda, but the more complex and 
 sordid sensations as well. 
 
 And it was a much garbled rumor which had gone 
 abroad. That would seem, on the face of it, to be 
 a tediously obvious statement, for rumor is always
 
 JUST JIMMY GORDON 289 
 
 garbled, else where the enjoyment in indulging in it. 
 But the wide and peculiar variety of the story s rami 
 fications may be best indicated, perhaps, by particular 
 mention of two of them, selected not at random from 
 the many. 
 
 At that same hour (two o clock in the morning) 
 when the Reverend Watson Duncan, industriously 
 plying a pencil beneath a shaded lamp that shed a 
 graciously mellow light upon the sermon which he 
 meant to deliver the next evening, was called to the 
 telephone to hear that the person with whose iniquity 
 that very sermon was most concerned, had departed 
 violently this vale of sin and sorrow; it was also 
 reported to District Attorney Jameson, verbally, as 
 he stood in his doorway, in slippers and dressing- 
 gown, that the owner of the Courier had not only 
 met a sudden end, but that one Garritty, the means 
 thereto, lay incarcerated, already charged with the 
 crime. 
 
 It goes without saying that both Mr. Duncan and 
 Mr. Jameson were distinctly shocked. In what dif 
 ferent degrees it is not given to state. For there is 
 more to be gained in a contemplation of their 
 changed emotions, when, later, both reports were 
 nailed as false. 
 
 Mr. Jameson after a frantic and futile effort to 
 get Mr. Banks on the wire, had locked himself in 
 his room, whence to the amazement of his family, 
 from time to time there emanated muffled sounds not 
 unlike a groan. And yet, a half hour following the 
 receipt of the second report, a denial of the first, he
 
 290 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 emerged again, sleekly combed and garbed with dig 
 nity. But his amazing conduct did not stop there. 
 That morning for the first time in a period of years, 
 with an air of weariness he expressed his intention 
 of accompanying his wife to church. 
 
 On the other hand, the Reverend Watson Duncan 
 was most unecclesiastically short with Mrs. Duncan, 
 delicate of health, who by chance elected to come 
 down to breakfast that morning a task she rarely 
 essayed. 
 
 Mr. Duncan had thought to spare her until then. 
 After listening to the first news of his stepson s 
 death, he had gone straight to bed with several apt 
 phrases concerning the wrath of a righteous God 
 running through his head. Work on the sermon he 
 abandoned since, naturally, it need never be finished. 
 And so, with the second bulletin which effected such 
 a change in Mr. Jameson, he was forced to resume 
 that task again, with all haste, and make the most 
 of the scant interval which was left before the hour 
 of morning service should call him to minister to 
 his flock. 
 
 Truly the ways of Providence are inscrutable. 
 Mrs. Duncan had never known her lord and master 
 to be as irritable as he was throughout that day. 
 And yet he who figured most prominently in those 
 exceedingly conflicting reports was convinced by mid- 
 afternoon, that there was one house where rumor 
 had not yet come. The street that had led him there, 
 chosen for reasons of obscurity, had proved to be 
 beset with comment and curiosity. But as he climbed
 
 JUST JIMMY GORDON 291 
 
 the steps of the renovated old Landis place, searching 
 the girl s eyes for a sign of apprehension, he sur 
 prised nothing but a serenely intimate gleam of wel 
 come therein. It occurred to him that he felt not 
 unlike an harassed pilgrim who, after leagues of 
 travail, had at length won sanctuary. He had some 
 mind to convey this to her in words, but realized in 
 time that the parallel would entail some explanation, 
 and therefore discarded it. 
 
 And, perversely, that was the only topic which pre 
 sented itself to him at the moment that and one 
 other which, resolutely on the tip of his tongue ever 
 since he had left Pegleg s place, he now found he 
 could not voice. 
 
 She was busy sewing. "A shocking Sabbath dese 
 cration," she named it, " but it s really become a 
 habit with me. Sunday s about the only time I ve 
 had, for a number of years, to repair rips and tears* 
 And I d never have a whole garment to wear, if I 
 left it to Louise." 
 
 And there, her fingers occupied, she let conversa 
 tion languish before it was fairly begun, nor seemed 
 to find the ensuing silence awkward or uncomfort 
 able. 
 
 She was all in white some sort of fluffy white 
 stuff that stuck out quaintly in the skirt. That Jimmy 
 noted first, and approved of, gravely. Her stockings 
 were white, as were her shoes. But there was mis 
 chief in the demure angle of her head, the demure 
 crossing of her ankles. 
 
 How often she had sewed like that, in the other
 
 292 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 years. She was always repairing this old garment or 
 that, but always lightheartedly, always with optim 
 ism, in spite of the doubtful success of many previous 
 ventures. She had even patched him up, when he 
 became too ragged. 
 
 Jimmy Gordon! That took him directly to 
 thoughts of those two Broadway successes and Carl 
 Hardy. He sat staring down at his feet, pondering 
 absent-mindedly wondering if it would make any 
 difference to her if she were to know that it was 
 Gordon James, that highly successful though elusive 
 playwright, who sat there, instead of Jimmy Gordon, 
 black sheep, ne er-do-well, the town s reproach. 
 
 Immediately a great temptation beset him a 
 temptation to abandon that ill-starred and erstwhile 
 miserable identity to his ill-chosen ways. As Gordon 
 James (he shook his head, denying to himself that 
 there was any lurking thought of snobbishness or 
 conceit in the inspiration) he could speak words little 
 becoming the lips of Jimmy Gordon, penniless, im 
 provident publicist. 
 
 And with that thought in mind, he raised his eyes. 
 And then his heart began to hammer in his throat. 
 She was laying aside her work-basket. Star-eyed, lips 
 parted, she had been watching him. And now he 
 followed her, as she rose. Her voice was deliciously 
 low, candidly, tenderly mirthful, and very, very close 
 to tears. 
 
 "No," she said. "Not Gordon James, Jimmy. I 
 want just Jimmy Gordon to say it to me !"
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 THE HUMBLE EXALTED 
 
 QUITE oblivious at first to the unbelievable 
 import of her words, Jimmy Gordon stood 
 so long staring down into her shining eyes 
 that she needs must laugh, at length, at the expres 
 sions that went blundering across his face, though, 
 indeed, the mirth itself was softly tremulous. 
 
 "Carl Hardy!" he stammered. "He told you 
 . . . you knew all the time !" 
 She nodded, delightedly. 
 
 " But he didn t tell me. Do you think there 
 was any need of explanation when he brought me 
 that first act the one he offered to buy from you 
 years ago and advised you not to sell and asked me 
 what I thought? Gordon James! 
 
 "Why, I d have known it was your work, even 
 if I d never seen it before. I I always used to tell 
 you that I never could anticipate you never quite 
 knew what you were going to do or say, didn t I? 
 That was very, very dishonest flattery. You re the 
 most transparent individual in the world, though I 
 I am beginning to wonder how much longer you re 
 going to keep me waiting before you. . . ." 
 
 293
 
 294 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 Minutes later she raised her head and saw the 
 glorified incredulity of his face. It brought a lump 
 to her throat and quick tears to her eyes. 
 
 "Jimmy !" she faltered. "Jimmy, as much as that ! 
 And you never even guessed? Oh, my dear, my 
 dear! Why, I decided I d marry you, years ago, 
 the night you had to go away." The unsteady little 
 catch went from her voice and left it grave. "To 
 take care of you, Jimmy so so now you d better 
 tell me everything that happened last night! And 
 don t try to make light of it, please, for if you do 
 I ll only worry more. That s that s how I used to 
 know when you were in a particularly bad scrape." 
 
 Six o clock came, and on the minute, like an auto 
 maton, in crisp black and white, a maid appeared in 
 the open doorway of the Latham residence, which 
 fronted on Warchester s "most exclusive residential 
 thoroughfare." But the cool nod with which Evelyn 
 Latham was accustomed to indicate her pleasure was 
 so long delayed that Lloyd Jameson, occupying on 
 the steps the lowly place from which he had never 
 been promoted, realized that the lady was engrossed 
 with matters other than the serving of refreshments, 
 and so (and from no fleshly motive) at last ven 
 tured, almost apologetically, to bring the matter to 
 her attention. 
 
 "It s six o clock, Evelyn," he suggested. "Shall 
 shall she bring the tea things now?" 
 
 All that afternoon Lloyd s bearing had been oddly 
 absent and subdued, a condition too unremarkable
 
 THE HUMBLE EXHALTED 295 
 
 to provoke notice or comment, however, for he had 
 long been humble and disconsolate in Evelyn 
 Latham s presence. 
 
 Of all of that customary Sabbath throng, he was 
 the only one who had not been drawn close to the 
 wicker divan by the sensational disclosures of Sidney 
 Banks, who, with a serene confidence born of long 
 custom, perhaps, shared it with the daughter of the 
 house. And yet, in the glance which Evelyn turned 
 not toward the maid, but upon the bulky figure 
 slumped in dejection on the steps, there was some 
 thing of tender, intuitive expectation, something of 
 the light with which ladies of old were wont to favor 
 the as yet unproven knight of her choice. 
 
 They all failed to notice that glance, but if they 
 had, its peculiar quality would have eluded them. 
 Such an emotion was commonly known to be anything 
 but characteristic of Evelyn Latham, the cool and 
 poised and ultra-correct; and by no flight of fancy 
 was the bulky figure anything but unheroic ! 
 
 "If you please, Lloyd," she drawled, the gaze lin 
 gering upon his bowed head for the fraction of a 
 second. Then she turned to give again all her inter 
 est to the one whom Lloyd had interrupted. The 
 singleness of her attention was distinctly flattering, 
 and yet her words seemed to have acquired a new 
 briskness, which, to one less self-certain than Sidney, 
 might have suggested a crafty cross-examiner blandly 
 leading a lying witness toward the pitfall of prying. 
 "And you believe it was over this girl, Melody," she 
 prompted, "that the trouble first started, years ago."
 
 296 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 With that, as if stung into action, Lloyd lifted his 
 head, and Sidney, mistaking the stolid gesture for 
 one of protest, waved a mock relentless hand. 
 
 "Murder will out, my boy," he laughed down at 
 him, "and besides, confession is good for the soul." 
 And then, to Evelyn, and the rest of the throng, 
 who were hanging upon each syllable : 
 
 "Exactly, and I don t merely believe it, I know 
 it. For we were there that night at Hanlon s, Lloyd 
 and I. Just a harmless little fling, you see a look 
 at the seamy side of things, as it were, though we 
 thought it was dare-devilish enough then, Heaven 
 knows. 
 
 "And he was there, too, at one of the little round 
 table, with this girl called Melody when when 
 Garritty came in. It s Garritty, you know, that they 
 suspect fired those shots at him last night in the 
 Palace Theater alleyway. Garritty s one of those 
 strange products of the streets, reckless and lawless 
 sometimes, and yet capable of I suppose a certain 
 fineness is the word. And Gordon there s a certain 
 code in such matters and he had overstepped. At 
 that there might not have been trouble, but Gordon 
 said something to him, just a word or two, as Gar 
 ritty happened past their table, and then well, they 
 said Garritty would have finished him right then, 
 as he almost did last night, if I if we hadn t inter 
 fered. Before Garritty could get his gun free, the 
 girl felled him with a chair. And Gordon I got 
 him out through a side door reserved for just such 
 emergencies, and glad enough to go. So you see
 
 THE HUMBLE EXHALTED 297 
 
 . . o ." Sidney was about to indulge in a dramatic 
 ally conclusive flourish, when the defection of his 
 audience spoiled the effort entirely, and to put it 
 with time-honored exactitude, compelled him to feel 
 that all was not well. 
 
 Throughout the vivid recital Lloyd had maintained 
 his dejected silence. But with the mention of the 
 "side door," and the insinuated ignominy of Jimmy 
 Gordon s escape, an incoherent ejaculation was 
 wrung from his lips. Evelyn turned, with one or 
 two others who heard, in time to see him shake his 
 head again, like a bear beset by hornets, before 
 he started to rise with a sort of prodigious desper 
 ation. 
 
 And now, confronting Sidney, and Sidney s sud 
 denly dumfounded audience, though he saw nothing 
 but the blurred face of his hostess, hot and miser 
 able and humble still, he addressed himself to her, 
 and achieved, all unwittingly, the heroic. 
 
 "That s not the truth," he blurted, speaking 
 blindly and bitterly. "That s a lie, like every other 
 story that s ever been told about Jimmy Gordon s 
 scrapes in this town. 
 
 "We were there that night yes, and he was, later, 
 but not with her. Because we were with her; we 
 went there with her and a friend of hers called Rose ! 
 Sidney picked her up the week we were rehearsin 
 that show we gave for charity. And the night of 
 the performance she brought around a friend for 
 me, and and we went to Hanlon s." 
 
 Lloyd s eyes were bereft of hope as he sustained
 
 298 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 Evelyn Latham s level regard. Nor was it strange 
 that he failed to notice even vaguely, how strangely 
 her face had begun to shine from within. Accepting 
 Sidney s jocular reference to confession as a truism, 
 Lloyd had not yet unburdened himself to an extent 
 that was evidenced in any pronounced uplift of spirit. 
 He gulped and pushed on. 
 
 "We we were going to show them a good time !" 
 he said, with unconsciously savage satire. "Of 
 course nothing like Henry s in Manhattan, where 
 where everybody had to be a good Indian; but the 
 best or worst Warchester afforded. And we did 
 think we were gay dogs regular dare-devils. We 
 even thought, all along, that we d suggested the 
 party, when, all along, they d arranged it for us. 
 They introduced us to Garritty, a mean, sneakin 
 crook, and others like him. We got into a poker 
 game. The girls sat on our chair-arms and sig 
 naled the cards we held ! And we d lost more money 
 than we had with us, more than we could pay up 
 in months, and signed some lOU s besides, when 
 Gordon came in. 
 
 "He had been standing outside in the rain, waiting 
 to see you come out, I suppose." Lloyd s voice was 
 forced and dogged; and suddenly he was no longer 
 unaware of the softly rosy glow in Evelyn Latham s 
 face. More miserable than before, he even believed 
 he knew what lay behind it. 
 
 "He must have seen us go into Hanlon s, and 
 known we were fools ! Because he followed us. He 
 stood and watched, till he was sure, and then he
 
 THE HUMBLE EXHALTED 299 
 
 called Garritty, and said the game was crooked ! I 
 wouldn t have dared that doesnt mean much but 
 not many men would have dared. He didn t have a 
 gun. Garritty did. And Garritty would have shot 
 him down unarmed if the girl called Melody hadn t 
 knocked him out with a chair. That much of what 
 you ve just heard was true. And then the place was 
 raided. The police came banging on the door. And 
 he he got us out, through a side-door, before they 
 broke the other one in. He got us out, but they 
 caught him. And my father gave him twenty-four 
 hours to get out of town. I could have cleared him, 
 and I kept quiet. I I knew he wouldn t tell !" 
 
 The maid had come and gone, leaving behind the 
 wicker tea-service, with its squat pot and fragile cups, 
 and basket of vari-colored cakes. And still no one 
 moved, or offered to speak, till Sidney dared to lift 
 his eyes to those of the rigid girl beside him. And 
 thereupon, whatever had been upon his lips, whatever 
 word of denial or protest, was hushed. In a silence 
 still unbroken, and ugly of a sudden, he rose and 
 strode heavily down the steps. And, one by one, 
 tacitly accepting the attitude of the girl left alone 
 on the divan as one of dismissal, the rest of that 
 Sabbath throng mumbled an uncomfortable leave- 
 taking and departed. As a chubby Colossus might 
 stand with the monstrous din of that catastrophe still 
 filling his ears, after he had pulled the heavens down 
 about him, Lloyd stood and watched them go. At 
 length Evelyn Latham and the unheroic figure alone 
 remained.
 
 300 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 There was a certain serenity in her silence. Lloyd 
 found the quiet eventually unbearable, He stood for 
 a time staring at his boots, before he again goaded 
 himself to speech. 
 
 "I ve been trying to tell you this ever since he 
 came back," he mumbled drearily. "But I was too 
 too much of a coward till now. He s always cared 
 for you, everybody knew he was crazy about you, 
 except yourself." 
 
 "I knew it," she interrupted softly. 
 
 Again he shook his head. It is doubtful whether 
 he even heard her. 
 
 "And now now " He drew a long, long 
 
 breath. "Well, now I guess I ll be going along 
 home." 
 
 "But I want you to stay, she expostulated with 
 panic haste. "The the tea " 
 
 Dully he seated himself on the top step ; he rose 
 again at her hesitant bidding, and obeyed the gesture 
 that seated him on the divan at her side. 
 
 And thus was the lowly exalted, in the moment 
 that he had thought to brave the abyss. Yet even 
 he was not given to know immediately the height 
 he had achieved not until a small hand, cool and 
 aloof no longer, but warm and eager, seeking dili 
 gently, found his. 
 
 Dusk came and darkness, which yielded reluctantly 
 to the lights that lined Warchester s chief residential 
 thoroughfare. And the water in the tea-pot grew 
 cold. 
 
 A tall thin figure, appearing from the direction
 
 THE HUMBLE EXHALTED 301 
 
 of the orchard behind the Reverend Watson Dun 
 can s white cottage, strode nearer with quick steps 
 that rang on the flagging. And as he seemed to 
 pause before her home, quizzically contemplative, 
 even in the shadow, Evelyn Latham recognized him; 
 and no longer poised and deliberate, but rather dis 
 heveled and flushed, yanked (there is no other word 
 for it) her companion to his feet. 
 
 The three met at the junction of the Latham 
 gravel path and the sidewalk. There they stood for 
 several moments, exceedingly congenial, apparently, 
 for laughter and fragmentary bits of sentences were 
 indistinguishably intermingled. And then, from the 
 top step of the Latham veranda, Evelyn watched 
 them, one tall and slightly stooping, one short and 
 plump but very erect, pass the Church of St. Luke s 
 arm in arm and disappear down the hill. 
 
 Judge Jameson was alone in his library when the 
 front door, slamming, heralded his son s returned 
 that night. 
 
 And Judge Jameson tried to hold his shoulders 
 back and force a smile as Lloyd entered the room, 
 until a glimpse of his son s face startled him half 
 erect. It promised a sensation and the only sensa 
 tion of which the Judge could conceive at that mo 
 ment, left him sick with guilt. 
 
 Many times Lloyd in imagination had approached 
 that moment and found it impossible. It was aston 
 ishing how easily, and happily, he faced it now. 
 
 ". . . He got caught helping us to get away." He
 
 302 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 repeated it all, as steadily as he could. "And that s 
 why Garritty tried to kill him last night. I I 
 wanted to tell you . . . I d have told you, long ago, 
 only I guess there s a streak of cowardice in me, 
 But now you know, and he knows, too." 
 
 Judge Jameson moved ever so little. 
 
 "You told him?" he mumbled. 
 
 Lloyd s voice raced on, in explanation: "He 
 walked down from Lathams with me tonight. He 
 laughed over it and said it was a funny scrape. He 
 laughed, father, think of that . . . and I I m 
 going to marry Evelyn Latham !" 
 
 Nothing could dampen the ferver from which that 
 last exclamation sprang, not even his father s pecu 
 liar silence. 
 
 "He s engaged to Carol Landis. Evelyn told him 
 that he surely threw her down flat, after years of 
 devotion, too. She said she d try to forgive him, 
 however, if he d come to tea next Sunday and bring 
 Carol Landis with him." 
 
 "Forgive whom?" mechanically Judge Jameson 
 asked the question. 
 
 "Why, Jimmy Jimmy Gordon. She was only 
 joking, of course. And we we re going to an 
 nounce both engagements at the same time in his 
 paper. Jimmy says it will be an exclusive item 
 an out-and-out scoop for the Courier. I m pretty 
 lucky. I didn t think I had any chance and now 
 now " 
 
 It was quiet for an infinitesimal space. And then, 
 abruptly, Judge Jameson threw back his head and
 
 THE HUMBLE EXHALTED 
 
 laughed. And his son joined in, diffidently, unaware 
 how shrill his father s laughter was, how nearly bor 
 dering on hysteria. 
 
 "It s funny," he said, as he started slowly to leave 
 the room, "it s funny how things turn out. And I m 
 glad you take it this way. I was a pretty mean sort 
 of a sneak, but I want you to know that hereafter 
 I m going to try to be a a little worthy of Evelyn." 
 
 At the door he paused. 
 
 "What?" he asked, in answer to an unintelligible 
 sound from his father. "Oh, good-night!" 
 
 He passed from the room. 
 
 Left alone, Judge Jameson s hysterical paroxysms 
 stopped with a painful gasp. He swung around in 
 his chair toward the empty doorway. And to the 
 empty doorway he spoke, querulously, pettishly. 
 
 "I didn t say good-night," he muttered; "I said 
 good God 1"
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 RANK MELODRAMA 
 
 IN the last few days that had immediately 
 preceded the foregathering of Warchester s 
 citizenry to witness the acclaim of T. Elihu 
 Banks as the Senatorial candidate of the Common 
 wealth, public opinion had undergone a subtle, but 
 unmistakable readjustment. Such changes in senti 
 ment are always hard to analyze; usually it is next 
 to impossible to state exactly when, or why, the 
 change began to take place. But the fact remains 
 that Warcheser, vaguely perturbed by it, had for 
 days been experiencing that metamorphosis. 
 
 Perhaps it was the odd silence of the Courier, 
 following hard upon the heels of its scurrilous attack 
 on T. Elihu, that had caused the first insidious sus 
 picion to creep into the brain of the man upon the 
 street. For having challenged T. Elihu, and received 
 no public reply, abruptly so abruptly in truth as to 
 make it seem almost ominous the Courier closed all 
 mention of the matter with a calmly confident pre 
 diction that "Mr. Banks, in spite of the high enthusi 
 asm of the body of estimable citizens behind him, 
 would in rising to his introduction as the chief 
 
 34
 
 RANK MELODRAMA 305 
 
 speaker in the coming rally at the old Palace Thea 
 ter, respond with his customary eloquence and de 
 cline, with thanks." 
 
 Looking through the columns of the Transcript 
 without finding a semblance of a reply to that predic 
 tion was disquieting. Wainwright, with his well- 
 known prodigality of phrase, had merely repeated 
 again the many qualifications of the city s most promi 
 nent citizen for the position of honor and trust which 
 they proposed to thrust upon him, and emphasized 
 his manifold public works. But even in that Wain 
 wright could not be specific. With the Courier s per 
 tinent questions concerning the paving deal (which it 
 characterized as the biggest steal since the city s in 
 ception), the trolley extension and real estate jug 
 gling at the north edge of the town, still unsatisfied, 
 he could scarcely be expected to enumerate them with 
 pride. And, somehow, generalization in these mat 
 ters, though it was ever so glowing and grateful, 
 failed exactly to answer in this case. 
 
 The Reverend Watson Duncan had spoken upon 
 the subject from his pulpit. Bitterly he inveighed 
 against the influence of a corrupt press, and with a 
 sonority undeniably eloquent, begged them not to 
 heed the heresy of a false prophet. 
 
 But, also, it leaked into town that a young 
 "preacher," by the name of Blair, had introduced 
 the same topic in his country chapel, at the finish of 
 the regular morning sermon, and discussed it for 
 some twenty earnest minutes, not with impassioned 
 flights of oratory, but soberly. Almost conversation-
 
 3 o6 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 ally he had spoken from the edge of the "ingrain" 
 carpeted platform of the regrettable evil of headlong 
 public sentiment, which condemns without a hearing, 
 and worships unproved respectability as blindly. 
 The allusion, in each case, was scarcely veiled. And 
 when it became known that there were many of his 
 congregation who even shared his views, when he 
 pointed out that men such as Pegleg Hanlon were 
 a blessing and not a curse to a community, it resulted 
 in a mild sensation and much debate, until a report 
 of far greater import swept it aside. 
 
 From one end of the city to the other, it was 
 noised that Evelyn Latham had risen in the very 
 middle of the Reverend Watson Duncan s tirade 
 against James Gordon, proprietor of the Courier 
 and his own stepson, and stalked out of St. Luke s; 
 and that young Lloyd Jameson and her father 
 J. J. Latham had followed, obviously seconding 
 her bleak disapproval. 
 
 Immediately, at that news, to use the phrase which 
 Wainwright would have employed, had his pencil 
 been unsubsidized, "Warchester began to seethe be 
 neath a surface of seeming calm." 
 
 Came the day of the rally, and simultaneously, 
 Carl Hardy s arrival in Warchester, on the four- 
 thirty express. Carol Landis and Jimmy met him at 
 the station, but it was not until they had reached the 
 Courier office that the subject of the new play, un 
 tidily projecting from the manager s coat pocket, 
 was introduced. He drew it out, smoothed it, not 
 without signs of vast amusement, into a semblance
 
 RANK MELODRAMA 307 
 
 of order, and laid it on the desk before him, without 
 a word. 
 
 "Well?" Jimmy ventured tentatively. 
 
 "It s not finished," objected Hardy. "Only three 
 acts! Where s the fourth?" 
 
 Jimmy s smile became a grin as he looked into 
 Carol s face. 
 
 "Tonight I I hope to be supplied with a logical 
 curtain," he explained. "The act is finished, barring 
 that. I waited because I wanted it to be convincing 
 you know and real and very, very human !" 
 
 Hardy heard himself quoted without suffering any 
 great loss of composure. 
 
 "I always wondered about that first act," he mur* 
 mured. "So it was yourself, eh?" 
 
 It was Carol s soft laughter that sent the blood 
 into Jimmy s thin cheeks. 
 
 "All but the glorified parts," he defended himself. 
 "Scarcely an autobiography." 
 
 "Splendid!" mused Hardy. "I wish I could be 
 young again." And then, laughingly: "Oh, I knew 
 what you were up to, after I d read one page of 
 that second act the return of the prodigal ten 
 years later! But what s the curtain going to be, 
 Jimmy vindication, young virtue triumphant 
 honor and reputation retrieved?" 
 
 But the tall and slightly stooped editor of the 
 Courier had recovered his equanimity. He laughed 
 with them, even while he was ordering them from, 
 the premises. 
 
 "You can search me!" he answered, humorously
 
 3 o8 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 grave. "But it s bound to be logical and convincing, 
 and true to life. Because they re going to create it, 
 not I. And now, here s an order for two seats, 
 reserved for you in the balcony. You can watch it 
 develop, yourself. Tivotson and I are very busy for 
 an hour or so. We we are men of the moment, 
 so to speak!" 
 
 It was hot and oppressive in the pit of the old 
 Palace Theater, but men forgot the heat as the prin 
 cipals whose entrance they had been awaiting, finally 
 filed in from the wings: Dayton, chairman of the 
 Civic Improvement Society; Blake, United States 
 Senator from a neighbor State; District Attorney 
 Jameson, the Reverend Watson Duncan, and T. 
 Elihu Banks. 
 
 The representatives of the press, Wainwright, 
 with his ribboned spectacles; Tivotson, stone sober 
 in spite of a mad gleam in his eye, and Jimmy 
 Gordon, found places at a long table at the extreme 
 left of the stage. 
 
 The Palace Theater had been the scene of many 
 political gatherings, not so different, in externals, 
 from this one which the Reverend Watson Duncan 
 now opened with a brief, almost martial prayer. 
 And yet there was scarcely a man in the house who, 
 lifting his bared head at the finish of that plea for 
 divine guidance did not feel that he was no longer a 
 participant, but rather an onlooker, waiting for the 
 presentation of a performance of absorbing tensity. 
 
 Dayton rose and spoke with that fluent jocularity
 
 RANK MELODRAMA 309 
 
 which had made him the town s official toastmaster, 
 waxing grave only when it was time to introduce 
 the first speaker of the evening, the well known and 
 well beloved Mr. Blake, Senator from . 
 
 Blake rose and wooed them with honeyed flattery; 
 boomed outworn commonplaces at them concerning 
 their duty to state and nation ; accentuated the crying 
 need at the Capitol of such men as Mr. Banks (and 
 himself), and, a little perfunctorily, returned to his 
 chair. 
 
 A patter of applause rewarded his effort. But 
 Warchester audiences were always accustomed to 
 encourage the first or second acts of a visiting com 
 pany in just such measure. It signified neither ap 
 proval nor disapproval. 
 
 And now as Dayton came again to his feet, talking 
 a little more rapidly this time, here and there men 
 began to notice that of the three men at the press 
 table Jimmy Gordon alone was busy preparing copy. 
 Wainwright, vaguely disquieted, was watching Judge 
 Jameson, and wondering if the District Attorney had 
 become suddenly indisposed, for he was very white. 
 Tivotson, bolt upright and rigid, and trembling like 
 a snake ready to strike, was watching T. E. Banks. 
 But the editor of the Courier was busy, seemingly 
 enjoying his task, for he was smiling above his racing 
 pencil. 
 
 The effect of a certain sort of a smile a quiet, 
 amused, lazy smile upon the emotions of those who 
 behold it, offers a nice problem in psychology. Hav 
 ing sought his bowed figure and glimpsed that smile,
 
 310 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 the eyes of men lingered upon it, until the whole 
 house, in a sort of fascinated expectancy, was 
 watching him. 
 
 They watched him while Dayton introduced "T. 
 Elihu Banks, Warchester s first United States Sen 
 ator." While they cheered, in a fashion markedly 
 unconvinced, they watched Gordon and during the 
 first half of the profoundly dispirited speech of 
 acceptance which Mr. Banks delivered in a husky 
 voice. And when Gordon suddenly gathered his 
 sheets together, and stacked them with some nicety, 
 and T. Elihu faltered, and finished with his hand 
 kerchief knotted wet in one hand, and his forhead 
 dripping wet, man for man they edged forward in 
 their chairs. 
 
 T. Elihu had finished now, and it was quiet 
 dreadfully quiet, for a meeting that was to have been 
 a "rousing indorsement of their candidate." T. 
 Elihu had responded with his customary eloquence 
 but he had not declined with thanks. Yet he was 
 a pitifully defeated figure, as he stuck to his guns. 
 
 "Tivotson!" 
 
 The little man, as if T. Elihu s defiance had just 
 sunk home, lunged to his feet. The very bitterness 
 of his impulse would have carried him across the 
 stage, had not Jimmy s ringing word halted him. 
 Gripping the table, hungry-faced and beseeching, he 
 swung his head around toward his employer. 
 Crisply Jimmy motioned him to a chair, and he 
 obeyed. 
 
 And now Blake was on his feet, his face suffused
 
 RANK MELODRAMA 3 1 1 
 
 with indignation at an unheard of irregularity. Day 
 ton was up, and the Reverend Watson Duncan, 
 expostulating incoherently, when a gamin in the gal 
 lery raised his voice, ribald and irreverent, and dis 
 tinct in every syllable. 
 
 "Cheese!" he warned the gentleman of the cloth. 
 "You had your chance. I ts too late for youse guys 
 to do any more prayin now!" 
 
 Maybe the prophetic partisanship of the gallery- 
 ite checked a more active show of objection; maybe 
 the reason for their moment of hesitation lay in the 
 whimsical quality of Jimmy Gordon s smile. For, 
 unchallenged, he had risen and come slowly down 
 to the center of the stage, a tall and thin and fam 
 iliar figure, reminiscent still of shiny blue serge, in 
 spite of the conventional black and white which he 
 was wearing. 
 
 There was no real need for him to wait a moment 
 for silence. This was the moment they had been 
 awaiting for days. 
 
 Whitey Garritty, who had been waiting even 
 longer, took advantage of the momentary dereliction 
 of one of those inconspicuous individuals whom 
 Pegleg Hanlan had ordered to "hang around" each 
 of the open exits. The alley blackness offered 
 Whitey Garritty ideal cover. This time he tried not 
 to hurry it. 
 
 An expression of incredulous dismay swept the 
 face of Warchester s black sheep. He seemed half 
 to lift one arm, as if to steady himself. The con 
 fined roar of the shot that spun him round and
 
 312 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 dropped him on the stage made of the pit of the old 
 Palace Theater a rioting mass of indignant, outraged 
 men. 
 
 Pegleg Hanlon and Tivotson helped Abel carry 
 him into Hanlon s Hotel and up to his room. And 
 Pegleg, ten minutes later, met the girl with the pallid 
 face whom Hardy steadied up the narrow stairway. 
 She refused to be comforted, refused to be cheated 
 by the smile of reassurance on his face, so he stood 
 aside and bade her enter. 
 
 "A scratch," he scoffed at the horror-stricken eyes 
 she raised from the stained strip of bandage about 
 his head. "A scratch. He ll be around an tell ye 
 so himself, in a minute!" 
 
 And indeed Pegleg spoke the truth. For almost 
 immediately Jimmy Gordon stirred and raised one 
 hand as though the bandage irked him, and Carol s 
 lingers flew to make it easier. 
 
 His eyes opened then. He shook his head at her, 
 deprecatingly. 
 
 "Just like the old days, eh?" he said. "Always in 
 trouble!" 
 
 The girl slipped to her knees and buried her head 
 on his shoulder and clung to him. And, quizzically, 
 over that bright head, Jimmy met the stunned con 
 cern of Hardy s regard. 
 
 "Your fourth act curtain, Hardy," he drawled, 
 weakly, in a voice faintly satirical. "Logical and 
 real and very, very human !" He made a gesture 
 of amiable disgust. "Why! damn it, man," he fin 
 ished, "it s it s rank melodrama !"
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 INDIAN SUMMER 
 
 RAIN had fallen during the early hours be 
 fore, dawn, a gentle downpour, pleasantly 
 cool and fragrant with the spicy suggestion 
 of autumn leaves. Indeed, more than one patch of 
 crimson, nipped by an early frost and blown from 
 the trees on the Common, lay tightly pasted to the 
 clean concrete surface of Front street, like drops of 
 brilliant paint spilled here and there by a careless 
 artisan. 
 
 Even the dingy sod of the Common had been ren 
 ovated. It looked so lush and green that the lone 
 commercial traveler who came out upon the Bay 
 State veranda steps just before noon and faced in 
 that direction to make the cannoneer and his mate 
 a solemn salute, stood squinting at it critically, from 
 eyes very wise in such a round and cherubic coun 
 tenance. 
 
 The drummer, having missed his Saturday connec 
 tion and arrived only that morning, had been forced 
 to forego his jump to Providence because he dared 
 not leave town without seeing Latham J. J. 
 Latham personally, so one would reasonably have 
 
 313
 
 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 expected him to find nothing of excellence on the 
 scene of his broken schedule. To the contrary, he 
 nodded his head at length and sighed his unqualified 
 content. 
 
 "Don t weaken, boys," with preoccupied gravity 
 he admonished the intrepid, twice-life-size pair which 
 composed Warchester s martial statue. "It could be 
 
 worse." 
 
 And then, chair and stiff brown derby tilted back 
 at a dangerous angle, brown-buttoned shoes propped 
 upon the rail, this stranded alien opened a damp 
 copy of the Sunday Transcript. 
 
 A head-line and two pictures upon an inner sheet 
 caught his vagrant eye. With quickly reawakened 
 interest he picked the paper up and looked closer, 
 nodding his head the next moment like one who has 
 satisfactorily verified his knowledge of metropolitan 
 affairs. 
 
 "Landis!" he spoke softly aloud. "Thought so. 
 Opened here last night in a new piece, eh? Wonder 
 how it hallo !" 
 
 The other picture had intruded itself the picture 
 of the author of the new piece. And now, as he 
 gazed at it more closely and recognition came, a 
 queer expression spread slowly across his face. 
 
 Many times since the afternoon several months 
 before when, with Mr. Dodge he had viewed the 
 return of Warchester s prodigal son to the haunts 
 of his youth, the drummer had vexed himself with 
 conjecture concerning that shabby figure. In one
 
 INDIAN SUMMER 315 
 
 way its familiarity was easily accounted for. The 
 drummer had never forgotten that other day, years 
 back, when a cinder-soiled figure stood with the same 
 Airedale which was waiting now on the platform 
 with Abel Thompson, and watched a plum uphol 
 stered barouche clatter off up the street. But that 
 memory was not entirely satisfacory. A persistent 
 certainty that he had seen that thin face on still an 
 other, vastly different, occasion was nagging at him. 
 
 And now the pulse of triumphant recollection 
 which shot across his cherubic face gave way imme 
 diately to a look less easily described. It had in it 
 a light of inspired comprehension, and a gleam of 
 unholy delight. 
 
 "Gordon James !" he breathed to himself. "Jim 
 my Gordon ! Now, why couldn t you have guessed 
 that, you poor boob, without a set of pictures to help 
 you! His Own Home Town! O boy O boy! 
 And I was right around when it happened!" 
 
 But, little by little, as he attacked the body of 
 Wainwright s report of the affair, his expression of 
 delight was displaced by a mixture of ludicrous be 
 wilderment and belligerent conviction. The drum 
 mer would have been hard put to it to explain just 
 what note he had expected the press of Warchester 
 to strike, but emphaically it was not that one sounded 
 by the three columns which the Transcript devoted 
 to the premiere of the night before. 
 
 ". . . As for the play itself, there is either much 
 to be said, or very, very little. A perfect conception, 
 perfectly presented would cover the latest product of
 
 3 i6 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 Gordon James* brain and pen. But since it is also 
 the work of Jimmy Gordon, our own townsman 
 boy, I very nearly wrote, for he is not yet in his 
 thirties such brief mention, no matter how lauda 
 tory, would hardly suffice. 
 
 ". . . Much of the atmosphere, much of the local 
 color of his own home town Mr. Gordon has put 
 into his new play by that name. Yet he deals also 
 with more concrete things. In those four acts he has 
 incorporated a mighty sermon against petty politics, 
 and blind, intolerant hypocrisy which many cities of 
 Warchester s class, who have lagged behind us in 
 the last few years, will do well to witness and heed." 
 
 There was more much more! all in Wain- 
 wright s best style, but at that point the dumfounded 
 drummer stopped and let the paper slip from slack 
 fingers. 
 
 "Well, I m damned," he whimpered. "I m 
 damned!" 
 
 Mr. Dodge, the manager of the Bay State, ap 
 peared the same instant in the doorway behind him. 
 
 "What s the matter?" he asked truculently. 
 "Forget your samples somewhere?" 
 
 In his way the drummer was a student of human 
 nature. He whirled now with a feverish eagerness 
 for experimentation in his eye. But a newer devel 
 opment checked him. 
 
 Across the square the gentleman of color had 
 come to his feet, smiling widely, as a pair of high- 
 checked gray horses, harnessed to a bulbous, plum 
 upholstered barouche, rounded Main street corner
 
 INDIAN SUMMER 317 
 
 and came swinging down Front, the clatter of their 
 feet upon the pavement a marvelous imitation of 
 those hoof-beats which trap-drummers were wont to 
 beat out upon their shells, for the added vividness 
 it lent to motion-picture steeds. 
 
 There was a man and a girl in the barouche, and 
 a pile of worn bags, thickly belabeled. Both of them 
 the drummer recognized instantly, but it was a long 
 white streamer of ribbon whipping lazily behind on 
 the breeze that held fascinated his gaze. 
 
 "Looks like a a wedding," he ventured uncer 
 tainly, at length, and for once his speech, in the pres 
 ence of Mr. Dodge, was faltering. He and Mr. 
 Dodge were not congenial souls. 
 
 The manager of the hotel could not spare him 
 even a pitying glance at that moment, though his 
 reply came with the patness of a verbatim report. 
 
 "Jimmy Gordon and Miss Landis, his leadin lady 
 . . . married to-day at high noon ... St. Luke s 
 . . . that young rector, Blair, officiatin . Duncan s 
 retired." 
 
 The barouchs was nearing now. It was quite pos 
 sible to see, even from the veranda of the Bay State, 
 the splendid little smile upon the girl s curling lips. 
 The Bay State manager was bending double, and 
 repeating the salute at accurate intervals ; the drum 
 mer found himself encountering Jimmy Gordon s 
 pale blue, mildly amused regard, and suddenly he, 
 too, was upon his feet, bowing, his round face pink, 
 his stiff brown derby in one hand. 
 
 And Carol Gordon, nee Landis, bobbed her head
 
 3 1 8. HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 to him as the barouche rounded up to the platform 
 and delivered them over to Abel. 
 
 "Where s the plump old party who used to " 
 
 He completed the question by waving a hand in the 
 direction of the disappearing barouche. 
 
 Mr. Dodge s patronizing smile was withering. 
 
 "Banks!" he said. "I guess you ain t been long 
 in this town. Old Banks? Bermuda that s where 
 they said he was going or Havana. For his 
 health!" He laughed, harshly. "Well, I guess most 
 any of those places are healthier than jail!" 
 
 "Hum-m-m," murmured the drummer. "Turned 
 crooked, eh?" 
 
 "Never was anything else! Sold out everything 
 he had before he left, except his place up on the hill. 
 Henderson s livery bought that rig of his that just 
 brought Jimmy Gordon down to the station. And 
 Jimmy Gordon why, he used to drive a hack for 
 Henderson, when he was a boy!" 
 
 Something in that epic announcement, something 
 in the manager s bearing, seemed to challenge his 
 transient guest. But the latter s eye had lost its 
 eagerness for experimentation its embattled gleam. 
 He was silent so long that Mr. Dodge s face finally 
 saddened with a realization that the question he had 
 lingered to combat would never be asked. 
 
 He sighed, but turned back in the doorway. 
 
 "Well," he declared, "there was a lot of people 
 in this town that used to run Jimmy Gordon down, 
 till it got to be the fashion. But I I told em ! I 
 knew he d make good in the end."
 
 INDIAN SUMMER 
 
 It was quiet after that. The drummer was a 
 philosopher. He only sat and smiled. 
 
 THE END 
 
 ONCE TO EVERY MAN 
 
 AND 
 
 THEN I LL COME BACK TO YOU 
 
 By LARRY EVANS 
 author of 
 
 HIS OWN HOME TOWN 
 
 Can Now Be Obtained in the Popular Edition 

 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 
 Los Angeles 
 
 This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. 
 
 Form L9-Series 4939
 
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