CHAPTER XII

Pearson called. He appeared at the apartment a week after the luncheon at the boarding house and was welcomed by the Captain Elisha, who, hearing his voice, strode into the hall, sent the shocked Edwards to the right-about in a hurry, seized his friend’s hand, and ushered him into the library. Pearson said nothing concerning his change of mind, the course of reasoning which led him to make the visit, and the captain asked no questions. He took it for granted that the young fellow’s common sense had turned the trick, and, the result being what it was, that was sufficient.

They spent a pleasant afternoon together. Caroline was out, and they had the library to themselves. The newest chapters of the novel were read and discussed, and the salty flavor of the talk was as pronounced as ever. Pearson left early, but promised to come again very soon.

When Caroline returned her uncle told her of his visitor. She seemed unfeignedly pleased, but regretted that she had not been there. “He was such a friend of father’s,” she said, “that seeing him here would be almost like the old days. And so many of those whom we thought were his friends and ours have left us.”

This was true. Rodgers Warren and his children had had many acquaintances, had been active in church and charitable work, and their former home was a center of entertainment and gayety while he lived.But his death and the rumors of shrinkage in the family fortune, the giving up of the Fifth Avenue residence, the period of mourning which forbade social functions, all these helped to bring about forgetfulness on the part of the many; and Caroline’s supersensitiveness and her firm resolve not to force her society where it might be unwelcome had been the causes of misunderstanding in others, whose liking and sympathy were genuine. “I don’t see what has come over Caroline Warren,” declared a former girl friend, “she isn’t a bit as she used to be. Well, I’ve done my part. If she doesn’t wish to return my call, she needn’t.Isha’n’t annoy her again. But I’m sorry, for she was the sweetest girl I knew.”

Stephen had never been very popular, and his absence at college still further reduced the number of young people who might be inclined to call. Their not calling confirmed Caroline’s belief that she and her brother were deliberately shunned because of their change in circumstances, and she grew more sensitive and proudly resentful in consequence. Naturally she turned for comfort to those who remained faithful, the Dunns in particular. They were loyal to her. Therefore, with the intensity of her nature, she became doubly loyal to them. The rector of St. Denis dropped in frequently, and others occasionally, but she was lonely. She craved the society of those nearer her own age.

Pearson’s coming, then, was psychologically apt. When he made his next call upon Captain Elisha, to find the latter out but his niece at home, she welcomed him cordially and insisted upon his waiting until her guardian returned. The conversation was, at first, embarrassing for the ex-reporter; she spoke of her father, and Pearson—the memory of his last interview withthe latter fresh in his mind, and painfully aware that she knew nothing of it—felt guilty and like a hypocrite. But soon the subject changed, and when the captain entered the library he found the pair laughing and chatting like old acquaintances, as, of course, they were.

Captain Elisha, paying no attention to his friend’s shakes of the head, invited his niece to be present at the reading of the latest addition to what he called “mine and Jim’s record-breakin’ sea yarn.”

“It’s really mine, you understand, Caroline,” he observed, with a wink. “I’m silent partner in the firm—if you can call the one that does all the talkin’ silent—and Jim don’t do nothin’ but make it up and write it and get the profits. Course, you mustn’t mention this to him, ’cause he thinks he’s the author, and ’twould hurt his feelin’s.”

“He’s quite right,” declared Pearson, emphatically. “If the thing is ever finished and published he will deserve all the credit. His advice had already remade it. This uncle of yours, Miss Warren,” he added, turning to her, “is like the admiral Kipling wrote about—he has ‘lived more stories’ than ever I could invent.”

The captain, fearful that his niece might take the statement seriously, hastened to protest.

“He’s just foolin’, Caroline,” he said. “All I’ve done is set and talk and talk and talk. I’ve used up more of his time and the surroundin’ air than you’d believe was possible. When I get next to salt water, even in print, it’s time to muzzle me, same as a dog in July. The yarn is Jim’s altogether, and it’s mighty interestin’—to me anyhow.”

“I’m sure it will be to me, also,” declared the young lady. “Captain Warren has told me all about it, Mr.Pearson, and I’m very eager to hear the new portion.”

“There!” Captain Elisha slapped his knee. “There, Jim!” he exclaimed, “you hear that? Now you’vegotto read it. Anchor’s apeak! Heave ahead and get under way.”

So, because he could not well refuse, the author reluctantly began to read. And, as usual, his nautical friend to interrupt and comment. Caroline listened, her eyes twinkling. When the reading and the arguments were at an end, she declared it was all splendid; “Just like being at sea one’s self,” she said. “I positively refuse to permit another installment to be submitted unless I am—on deck. That’s the proper phrase, isn’t it, Captain?”

“Aye, aye, ma’am! Jim, we’ve shipped a new second mate, and she’s goin’ to be wuth her salt. You hearme!”

She proved to be worth all of that, at least in Pearson’s opinion. His calls and the readings and discussions became more and more frequent. Each of the trio enjoyed them greatly, Caroline quite as much as the others. Here was something new and fresh, something to furnish a real interest. The story advanced rapidly, the character of the nautical hero shaped itself better and better, and the heroine, also, heretofore a somewhat shadowy and vague young woman, began to live and breathe. She changed surprisingly, not only in mental but in physical characteristics.

Captain Elisha was first to notice the latter peculiarity.

“Say, Jim!” he interrupted, one afternoon, “what was that you just read about Mary? Her hat blowin’ off to leeward and her brown hair blowin’ after it? Or somethin’ of that sort?”

Caroline laughed merrily. The author turned to the passage mentioned.

“Not exactly, Captain,” he replied, smiling. “I said her hat had blown away, and her brown curls tossed in the wind. What’s wrong with that? Hats do blow away in a sou’wester; I’ve seen them.”

“Perhaps he thinks she should have been more careful in pinning it on,” suggested the feminine member of the advisory board.

Captain Elisha shook his head. “No,” he observed calmly, “but why was she wearin’ that kind of hair? She’s pretty young to use a switch, ain’t she?”

“Switch?” repeated “Mary’s” creator, with some indignation. “What are you talking about? When I first described her, I said that her hair was luxuriant and one of her chief beauties.”

“That’s a fact! So you did. What made her dye it?”

“Dye it? What do you think she is—a chorus girl?”

“If I remember right she’s a postmaster’s daughter. But why is she wearin’ brown hair, if it ain’t neither false or dyed? Back in the third chapter ’twasblack, like her eyes.”

Caroline burst into another laugh. Pearson blushed to his forehead. “Well, by George!” he admitted, “you’re right. I believe I did have it black, at first.”

“You sartin did! I ain’t got any objections to either color, only it ought to stay put, hadn’t it? In a town of the size she’s livin’ in, a girl with changeable hair is likely to be kind of conspicuous. I tell you! maybe it bleached out in the sun. Ho, ho!”

The writer made a note on the margin of his manuscript and declared that his heroine’s tresses and eyesshould be made to correspond at all stages. They did, but they remained brown. Captain Elisha chuckled inwardly, but offered no further comments. Caroline, whose own hair and eyes were brown, did not refer to the matter at all.

She and the young man became better acquainted at each succeeding “literary clinic,” as the latter called them. When Rodgers Warren first introduced him at their former home he had impressed her favorably, largely because of her desire to like anyone whom her father fancied. She worshiped the dead broker, and his memory to her was sacred. She would have forgiven and did forgive any wrong he might have done her, even his brother’s appointment as guardian, though that she could not understand. Unlike Stephen, who fiercely resented the whole affair and said bitter things concerning his parent, she believed he had done what he considered right. Her feeling against Captain Elisha had been based upon the latter’s acceptance of that appointment when he should have realized his unfitness. And his living with them and disgracing them in the eyes of their friends by his uncouth, country ways, made her blind to his good qualities. The Moriarty matter touched her conscience, and she saw more clearly. But she was very far from considering him an equal, or other than what Mrs. Corcoran Dunn termed him, an “encumbrance,” even yet. She forced herself to be kind and tolerant and gave him more of her society, though the church-going experience was not repeated, nor did she accompany him on his walks or out-of-door excursions.

If Pearson’s introductions had been wholly as a friend of her guardian, her feeling toward him might have been tinged with the same condescension oraversion, even. But, hallowed as he was by association with her father, she welcomed him for the latter’s sake. And, as she became interested in the novel and found that her suggestions concerning it were considered valuable, she looked forward to his visits and was disappointed if, for any reason, they were deferred. Without being aware of it, she began to like the young author, not alone because he wrote entertainingly and flattered her by listening respectfully to her criticisms, or because her father had liked him, but for himself.

Captain Elisha was much pleased.

“I told you, Jim!” he said. “She’s just as glad to see you as I am. Now don’t you see how foolish it was to stay away ’cause you and ’Bije had a spat? Think of all the good times we’d have missed! And we needed a female aboard your Uncle Jim’s craft, to help with ‘Mary’ and the rest.”

His friend nodded. “She has been a great help, certainly,” he answered. “But I can’t help feeling guilty every time I come here. It is too much like obtaining her friendship under false pretenses. She should know the whole thing, I believe.”

“She shall know it, when I think it’s time for her to. But I want her to know you first. Then she’ll be able to judge without so much prejudice. I told you I’d take the responsibility. You leave the ship in my charge for a spell.”

In spite of this confident assertion, the captain also felt a trifle guilty. He realized that selfishness was involved in his keeping Pearson’s secret from his niece. He was thoroughly enjoying himself with these two, and he could not bear to risk the breaking up which might follow disclosure.

One evening, while a “clinic” was in progress andthe three were deep in consultation, Edwards entered to announce Mrs. Corcoran Dunn and Mr. Malcolm. The butler’s giving the lady precedence in his announcing showed that he, too, realized who was ranking officer in that family, even though the captain’s “conundrum” had puzzled him. Mrs. Dunn and her son entered at his heels.

“She and the young man became better aquainted at each succeeding ‘literary clinic.’”“She and the young man became better aquainted at each succeeding ‘literary clinic.’”

The lady took in the group by the table at a glance: Pearson, with the manuscript in his hands; Captain Elisha leaning back in his chair, frowning at the interruption; Caroline rising to welcome the guests, and coloring slightly as she did so. All these details Mrs. Dunn noted, made an entry in her mental memorandum-book, and underscored it for future reference.

If she discerned unpleasant possibilities in the situation, she did not allow them to disturb her outward serenity. She kissed Caroline and called her “dear child” as fondly as usual, shook hands graciously with Captain Elisha, and bowed condescending recognition of Pearson.

“And how is the novel coming on? Do tell me!” she begged. “I’m sure we interrupted a reading. It’s too bad of us, really! But Malcolm insisted upon coming. He has been very busy of late—some dreadful ‘corner’ or other on the exchange—and has neglected his friends—or thinks he has. I told him I had explained it all to you, Caroline, but hewouldcome to-night. It is the first call he has made in weeks; so yousee! But there! he doesn’t consider running in here a call.”

Call or not, it spoiled the evening for at least two of the company. Pearson left early. Captain Elisha excused himself soon after and went to his room, leaving the Dunns to chat with Caroline for an hour ormore. Malcolm joked and was languid and cynical. His mother asked a few carefully guarded questions.

“Quite a clever person, this young author friend of yours seems to be, Caroline,” she observed. “Almost brilliant, really.”

“He isn’t a friend of mine, exactly,” replied the girl. “He and Captain Warren are friendly, and father used to know and like him, as I have told you. The novel is great fun, though! The people in it are coming to seem almost real to me.”

“I daresay! I was a great reader myself once, before my health—my heart, you know—began to trouble me. The doctors now forbid my reading anything the least bit exciting. Has this—er—Mr. Pearson means?”

“I know very little of him, personally, but I think not. He used to be connected with thePlanet, and wrote things about Wall Street. That was how father came to know him.”

“Live in an attic, does he?” inquired Malcolm. “That’s what all authors do, isn’t it? Put up in attics and sleep on pallets—whatever they are—and eat crusts, don’t they? Jolly life—if you like it! I prefer bucking wheat corners, myself.”

Mrs. Dunn laughed, and Caroline joined her, though not as heartily.

“How ridiculous you are, Malcolm!” exclaimed his mother. “Mr. Pearson isn’t that kind of an author, I’m sure. But where does he live, Caroline?”

“Somewhere on West 18th Street, I believe. He has rooms there, I think.”

“Oh! Really? And how is this wonderful novel of his progressing? When does he expect to favor us with it?”

“I don’t know. But it is progressing very well at present. He has written three chapters since last Wednesday. He was reading them to us when you came.”

“Indeed! Since last Wednesday? How interesting!”

Malcolm did not seem to find the topic interesting, for he smothered a yawn. His mother changed the subject. On their way home, however, she again referred to it.

“You must make it a point to see her every day,” she declared. “No matter what happens, you must do it.”

“Oh, Lord!” groaned her son, “I can’t. There’s the deuce and all on ’Change just now, and the billiard tournament’s begun at the Club. My days and nights are full up. Once a week is all she should expect, I think.”

“No matter what you think or what she expects, you must do as I say.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t like the looks of things.”

“Oh, rubbish! You’re always seeing bugaboos. Uncle Hayseed is pacified, isn’t he? I’ve paid the Moriarty crowd off. Beastly big bills they were, too!”

“Humph! Uncle Hayseed, as you call him, is anything but a fool. But he isn’t the particular trouble at present. He and I understand each other, I believe, and he will be reasonable. But—there is this Pearson. I don’t like his calling so frequently.”

Malcolm laughed in huge scorn. “Pearson!” he sneered. “Why, he’s nothing but a penny-a-liner, without the penny. Surely you’re not afraid Caroline will take a fancy to him. She isn’t an idiot.”

“She’s a young girl, and more romantic than I wish she was. At her age girls do silly things, sometimes. He called on Wednesday—you heard her say so—and was there again to-night. I don’t like it, I tell you.”

“Her uncle is responsible for—”

“It is more than that. She knew him long before she knew her uncle existed. Her father introduced him—herfather. And to her mind, whatever her father did was right.”

“Witness his brilliant selection of an executor. Oh, Mater, you weary me! I used to know this Pearson when he was a reporter downtown, and.... Humph!”

“What is it?”

“Why, nothing, I guess. It seemed as if I remember Warren and Pearson in some sort of mix-up. Some.... Humph! I wonder.”

He was silent, thinking. His mother pressed his arm excitedly.

“If you remember anything that occurred between Rodgers Warren and this man, anything to this Pearson’s disadvantage, it may pay us to investigate. What was it?”

“I don’t know. But it seemed as if I remembered Warren’s ... or a friend of his telling me ... saying something ... but it couldn’t be of importance, because Caroline doesn’t know it.”

“I’m not so sure that it may not be important. And, if you recall, on that day when we first met him at Caroline’s, she seemed hurt because he had not visited them since her father died. Perhaps therewasa reason. At any rate, I should look into the matter.”

“All right, Mater, just as you say. Really you ought to join a Don’t Worry Club.”

“One member in the family is quite sufficient. And I expect you to devote yourself to Caroline from now on. That girl is lonely, and when you get the combination of a lonely romantic young girl and a good-looking and interesting young fellow, even though he is as poor as a church mouse,anythingmay happen. Add to that the influence of an unpractical but sharp old Yankee relative and guardian—then the situation is positively dangerous.”

An important event was about to take place. At least, it seemed important to Captain Elisha, although the person most intimately concerned appeared to have forgotten it entirely. He ventured to remind her of it.

“Caroline,” he said, “Sunday is your birthday, ain’t it?”

His niece looked at him in surprise. “Yes,” she answered, “it is. How did you know?”

“Why, I remembered, that’s all. Graves, the lawyer man, told me how old you and Stevie were, fust time I met him. And his partner, Mr. Sylvester, gave me the date one day when he was goin’ over your pa’s will. You’ll be twenty years old Sunday, won’t you?”

“Yes.”

It was late in the afternoon, and she had been out since ten o’clock shopping with Mrs. Dunn, lunching downtown with the latter and Malcolm, and motoring for an hour or two. The weather for the season was mild and sunny, and the crisp air had brightened her cheeks, her eyes sparkled, her fur coat and cap were very becoming, and Captain Elisha inspected her admiringly before making another remark.

“My! My!” he exclaimed, after an instant’s pause. “Twenty years old! Think of it! ’Bije’s girl’s a young woman now, ain’t she? I cal’late he was proud of you, too. He ought to have been. I presume likelyhedidn’t forget your birthday.”

He rose to help her with the heavy coat. As he lifted it from her shoulders, he bent forward and caught a glimpse of her face.

“There! there!” he said, hastily. “Don’t feel bad, dearie. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelin’s. Excuse me; I was thinkin’ out loud, sort of.”

She did not answer at once, but turned away to remove her cap. Then she answered, without looking at him.

“He never forgot them,” she said.

“Course he didn’t. Well, you see I didn’t forget, either.”

It was an unfortunate remark, inasmuch as it drew, in her mind, a comparison between her handsome, dignified father and his rude, uncultured brother. The contrast was ever present in her thoughts, and she did not need to be reminded of it. She made no reply.

“I was thinkin’,” continued the captain, conscious of having made a mistake, “that maybe we might celebrate somehow, in a quiet way.”

“No. I am not in the mood for—celebrations.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean fireworks and the town band. I just thought—”

“Please don’t. I remember other birthdays too well.” They had been great occasions, those birthdays of hers, ever since she was a little girl. On the eighteenth she made her début in society, and the gown she wore on that memorable evening was laid away upstairs, a cherished memento, to be kept as long as she lived. Each year Rodgers Warren took infinite pains to please and surprise his idolized daughter. She could not bear to think of another birthday, now that he had been taken from her.

Her guardian pulled his beard. “Well,” he observedruefully, “then my weak head’s put my foot in it again, as the feller said. If I ain’t careful I’ll be like poor cracked Philander Baker, who lives with his sister over at Denboro Centre. The doctor told Philander he was threatened with softenin’ of the brain, and the sister thanked him for the compliment. You see, Caroline, I wrote on my own hook and asked Stevie to come home Saturday and stay till Monday. I kind of thought you’d like to have him here.”

“Oh, I should likethat! But will he come? Has he written you?”

“Hey? Yes, I cal’late he’ll be on deck. He’s—er—yes, he’s written me.”

He smiled as he answered. As a matter of fact, the correspondence between Stephen and himself had been lengthy and voluminous on the part of the former, and brief and business-like on his own. The boy, on his return to college, had found “conditions” awaiting him, and the amount of hard work involved in their clearance was not at all to his taste. He wrote his guardian before the first week was over, asserting that the whole business was foolishness and a waste of time. He should come home at once, he said, and he notified the captain that such was his intention. Captain Elisha replied with promptness and decision. If he came home he would be sent back, that was all. “I realize you’ve got a job ahead of you, Son,” wrote the captain, “but you can do it, if you will. Fact is, I guess you’ve got to. So sail in and show us what you’re made of.”

Stephen’s answer was a five page declaration of independence. He refused to be bullied by any living man. He had made arrangements to come to New York on the following Monday, and he was coming. As to beingsent back, he wished his uncle to understand that it was one thing to order and another to enforce obedience. To which he received the following note:

“I can’t stop you from coming, Steve, except by going to New Haven and holding you by main strength. That I don’t propose to do, for two reasons: first, that it is too much trouble, and second that it ain’t necessary. You can come home once in a while to see your sister, but you mustn’t do it till I say the word. If you do, I shall take the carfare out of your allowance, likewise board while you are here, and stop that allowance for a month as a sort of fine for mutiny. So you better think it over a spell. And, if I was you, I wouldn’t write Caroline that I was coming, or thinking of coming, till I had my mind made up. She believes you are working hard at your lessons. I shouldn’t disappoint her, especially as it wouldn’t be any use.

“I can’t stop you from coming, Steve, except by going to New Haven and holding you by main strength. That I don’t propose to do, for two reasons: first, that it is too much trouble, and second that it ain’t necessary. You can come home once in a while to see your sister, but you mustn’t do it till I say the word. If you do, I shall take the carfare out of your allowance, likewise board while you are here, and stop that allowance for a month as a sort of fine for mutiny. So you better think it over a spell. And, if I was you, I wouldn’t write Caroline that I was coming, or thinking of coming, till I had my mind made up. She believes you are working hard at your lessons. I shouldn’t disappoint her, especially as it wouldn’t be any use.

“Your affectionate uncle,“ELISHA WARREN.”

The result of all this was that Stephen, whose finances were already in a precarious condition, did think it over and decided not to take the risk. Also, conscious that his sister sided with their guardian to the extent of believing the university the best place for him at present, he tore up the long letter of grievance which he had written her, and, in that which took its place, mentioned merely that he was “grinding like blazes,” and the only satisfaction he got from it was his removal from the society of the “old tyrant from Cape Cod.”

He accepted the tyrant’s invitation to return for the week-end and his sister’s birthday with no hesitationwhatever; and his letter of acceptance was so politic as to be almost humble.

He arrived on an early train Saturday morning. Caroline met him at the station, and the Dunns’ car conveyed them to the latter’s residence, where they were to spend the day. The Dunns and Caroline had been together almost constantly since the evening when Malcolm and his mother interrupted the reading of the novel. The former, while professing to be harassed by business cares, sacrificed them to the extent of devoting at least a part of each twenty-four hours to the young lady’s society. She was rarely allowed to be alone with her uncle, a circumstance which troubled her much less than it did him. He missed the evenings which he had enjoyed so much, and the next consultation over the adventures of Pearson’s “Uncle Jim” and his “Mary” seemed flat and uninteresting without criticism and advice.

The author himself noticed the difference.

“Rot!” he exclaimed, throwing the manuscript aside in disgust. “It’s rot, isn’t it! If I can’t turn out better stuff than that, I’d better quit. And I thought it was pretty decent, too, until to-night.”

Captain Elisha shook his head. “It don’t seem quite so shipshape, somehow,” he admitted, “but I guess likely it’s ’cause my head’s full of other things just now. I’m puzzled ’most to death to know what to get for Caroline’s birthday. I want to get her somethin’ she’ll like, and she’s got pretty nigh everything under the sun. Say, Jim, you’ve been workin’ too hard, yourself. Why don’t you take to-morrow off and cruise around the stores helpin’ me pick out a present. Come ahead—do!”

They spent the next afternoon in that “cruise,” visitingdepartment stores, jewelers, and art shops innumerable. Captain Elisha was hard to please, and his comments characteristic.

“I guess you’re right, Jim,” he said, “there’s no use lookin’ at pictures. Let alone that the walls are so covered with ’em now a fly can’t scarcely light without steppin’ on some kind of scenery—let alone that, my judgment on pictures ain’t any good. I cal’late that’s considered pretty fine, ain’t it?” pointing to a painting in the gallery where they then were.

“Yes,” replied the dealer, much amused. “That is a good specimen of the modern impressionist school.”

“Humph! Cookin’ school, I shouldn’t wonder. I’d call it a portrait of a plate of scrambled eggs, if ’twa’n’t for that green thing that’s either a cow or a church in the offin’. Out of soundin’s again, I am! But I knew she liked pictures, and so.... However, let’s set sail for a jewelry store.”

The sixth shop of this variety which they visited happened to be one of the largest and most fashionable in the city. Here the captain’s fancy was taken by a gold chain for the neck, set with tiny emeralds.

“That’s pretty—sort of—ain’t it, Jim?” he asked.

“Yes,” replied his companion, with emphasis, “it is. And I think you’ll find it is expensive, also.”

“That so? How much?” turning to the salesman.

The latter gave the price of the chain. Captain Elisha whistled.

“Whew! Jerushy!” he exclaimed. “And it wouldn’t much more than go around my wrist, at that. All the same size, are they?”

“No. Some are longer. The longer ones are higher priced, of course.”

“Sartin! They’re for fleshy folks, I s’pose. Mrs.Thoph Kenney down home, she’d have to splice three of ’em together to make the round trip. Thoph’s always scared he won’t get his money’s wuth in a trade, but he couldn’t kick when he got her. To give the minister a dollar and walk off with two hundred and eighty pounds of wife is showin’ some business sagacity, hey? To do him justice, I will say thatheseems to be satisfied; she’s the one that does the complainin’. I guess this is the most expensive counter in the store, ain’t it, Mister?”

The clerk laughed. “No, indeed,” he said. “These are all moderate priced goods. I wonder,” turning to Pearson, “if your friend wouldn’t like to see some of our choice pieces. It is a quiet day here, and I shall be glad to show them.”

He led the way to a set of show cases near the door on the Fifth Avenue side. There before Captain Elisha’s dazzled eyes were displayed diamond necklaces and aigrettes, tiaras and brooches, the figures on their price tags running high into the thousands. Pearson and the good-natured clerk enjoyed themselves hugely.

“Jim,” said the captain after a little of this, “is there a police officer lookin’ this way?”

Pearson laughed. “I guess not,” he answered. “Why? The temptation isn’t getting too much for your honesty, is it?”

“No,” with a sigh, “but I’m carryin’ a forty dollar watch and wearin’ a ring that cost fifteen. I thought they was some punkins till I begun to look at this stuff. Now they make me feel so mean and poverty-struck that I expect to be took up for a tramp any minute. Mister,” to the clerk, “you run right along and wrap up that chain I was lookin’ at. Hurry! or I’ll be ashamed to carry anything so cheap.”

“Think she’ll like it, do you, Jim?” he asked, when they were once more out of doors with the purchase in his inside pocket.

“She ought, certainly,” replied Pearson. “It’s a beautiful thing.”

“Yes. Well, you see,” apologetically, “I wanted to give her somethin’ pretty good. ’Bije always did, and I didn’t want to fall too fur behind. But,” with a chuckle, “you needn’t mention the price to anybody. If Abbie—my second cousin keepin’ house for me, she is—if Abbie heard of it she’d be for puttin’ me in an asylum. Abbie’s got a hair breastpin and a tortoise shell comb, but she only wears ’em to the Congregationalist meetin’-house, where she’s reasonably sure there ain’t likely to be any sneak-thieves. She went to a Unitarian sociable once, but she carried ’em in a bag inside her dress.”

Captain Elisha planned to surprise his niece with the gift at breakfast on the morning of her birthday, but, after reflection, decided to postpone the presentation until dinner time. The inevitable Dunns had taken upon themselves the duty of caring for the girl and her brother during the major part of the day. The yellow car appeared at the door at ten o’clock and bore the two away. Caroline assured her guardian, however, that they would return in season for the evening meal.

The captain spent lonely but busy hours until dinner time came. He had done some scheming on his own hook and, after a long argument with the cook, reënforced by a small sum in cash, had prevailed upon that haughty domestic to fashion a birthday cake of imposing exterior and indigestible make-up. Superintending the icing of this masterpiece occupied some time. He then worried Edwards into a respectful but stubbornfury by suggesting novelties in the way of table arrangement. Another bestowal of small change quelled the disturbance. Then came, by messenger, a dozen American Beauty roses with Mr. Pearson’s card attached. These the captain decided should be placed in the center of the festive board. As a center piece had been previously provided, there was more argument. The cook took the butler’s side in the debate, and the pair yielded only when Captain Elisha again dived into his pocket.

“But I warn you, all hands,” he observed, “that this is the last time. My right fist’s got a cramp in it this minute, and you couldn’t open it again with a cold chisel.”

At last, however, everything was as it should be, and he sat down in the library to await the coming of the young people. The gold chain in its handsome leather case, the latter enclosed in the jeweler’s box, was carefully laid beside Caroline’s place at the table. The dinner was ready, the cake, candles and all—the captain had insisted upon twenty candles—was ready, also. There was nothing to do but wait—and he waited.

Six-thirty was the usual dinner hour. It passed. Seven o’clock struck, then eight, and still Captain Elisha sat alone in the library. The cook sent word that the dinner was ruined. Edwards respectfully asked, “What shall I do, sir?” twice, the second time being sent flying with an order to “Go for’ard and keep your hatches closed!” The nautical phraseology was lost upon the butler, but the tone and manner of delivery were quite understandable.

Several times the captain rose from his chair to telephone the Dunn house and ask the reason for delay. Each time he decided not to do so. No doubt there weregood reasons; Caroline and her brother had been detained; perhaps the automobile had broken down—the things were always breaking down just at the most inconvenient times; perhaps.... Well, at any rate, he would not ’phone just yet; he would wait a little longer.

At last the bell rang. Captain Elisha sprang up, smiling, his impatience and worry forgotten, and, pushing the butler aside, hurried to open the door himself. He did so and faced, not his niece and nephew, but Pearson.

“Good evening, Captain,” hailed the young man, cheerily. “Didn’t expect me, did you? I dropped in for a moment to shake hands with you and to offer congratulations to Miss Warren.” Then, noticing the expression on his friend’s face, he added, “What’s the matter? Anything wrong? Am I intruding?”

“No, no! Course not. You’re as welcome as another egg in a poor man’s hen-house. Come right in and take off your things. I’m glad to see you. Only—well, the fact is I thought ’twas Caroline comin’ home. She and Stevie was to be here over two hours ago, and I can’t imagine what’s keepin’ ’em.”

He insisted upon his visitor’s remaining, although the latter, when he understood the situation, was reluctant to do so.

“Caroline’ll be real glad to see you, Jim, I know,” the captain said. “And I want you to stay for my sake. Between pacifyin’ the Commodore and frettin’ over what couldn’t possibly happen, I was half dead of the fidgets. Stay and cheer me up, there’s a good feller. I’d just about reached the stage where I had the girl and boy stove to flinders under that pesky auto. I’d even begun to figger on notifyin’ the undertaker. Tell meI’m an old fool and then talk about somethin’ else. They’ll be here any minute.”

But a good many minutes passed, and still they did not come. Pearson, aware of his companion’s growing anxiety, chatted of the novel, of the people at the boarding house, of anything and everything he could think of likely to divert attention from the one important topic. The answers he received were more and more brief and absent. At last, when Edwards again appeared, appealingly mute, at the entrance to the dining room, Captain Elisha, with a sigh which was almost a groan, surrendered.

“I guess,” he said, reluctantly, “I guess, Jim, there ain’t any use waitin’ any longer. Somethin’s kept ’em, and they won’t be here for dinner. You and I’ll set down and eat—though I ain’t got the appetite I cal’lated to have.”

Pearson had dined hours before, but he followed his friend, resolved to please the latter by going through the form of pretending to eat.

They sat down together. Captain Elisha, with a rueful smile, pointed to the floral centerpiece.

“There’s your posies, Jim,” he observed. “Look pretty, don’t they. She ain’t seen ’em yet, but she’ll like ’em when she does. And that over there, is her present from me. Stevie gave her a box of gloves, and I expect, from what Mrs. Dunn hinted, that she and that son of hers gave her somethin’ fine. She’ll show us when she gets here. What’s this, Commodore? Oysters, hey? Well, they ought to taste like home. They’re ‘Cape Cods’; I wouldn’t have anything else.”

“We won’t touch the birthday cake, Jim,” he added, a little later. “She’s got to cut that herself.”

The soup was only lukewarm, but neither of themcommented on the fact. The captain had scarcely tasted of his, when he paused, his spoon in air.

“Hey?” he exclaimed. “Listen! What’s that? By the everlastin’, itis. Here they are, atlast!”

He sprang up with such enthusiasm that his chair tipped backwards against the butler’s devoted shins. Pearson, almost as much pleased, also rose.

Captain Elisha paid scant attention to the chair incident.

“What are you waitin’ for?” he demanded, whirling on Edwards, who was righting the chair with one hand and rubbing his knee with the other. “Don’t you hear ’em at the door? Let ’em in!”

He reached the library first, his friend following more leisurely. Caroline and Stephen had just entered.

“Well!” he cried, in his quarter-deck voice, his face beaming with relief and delight, “youarehere, ain’t you! I begun to think.... Why, what’s the matter?”

The question was addressed to Stephen, who stood nearest to him. The boy did not deign to reply. With a contemptuous grunt, he turned scornfully away from his guardian.

“What is it, Caroline?” demanded Captain Elisha. “Hasanything happened?”

The girl looked coldly at him. A new brooch—Mrs. Corcoran Dunn’s birthday gift—sparkled at her throat.

“No accident has happened, if that is what you mean,” she said.

“But—why, yes, that was what I meant. You was so awful late, and you know you said you’d be home for dinner, so—”

“I changed my mind. Come, Steve.”

She turned to leave the room. Pearson, at that moment, entered it. Stephen saw him first.

“What?” he cried. “Well, of all the nerve! Look, Caro!”

“Jim—Mr. Pearson, I mean—ran in a few minutes ago,” explained Captain Elisha, bewildered and stammering. “He thought of course we’d had dinner and—and—he just wanted to wish you many happy returns, Caroline.”

Pearson had extended his hand and a “Good evening” was on his lips. Stephen’s strange behavior and language caused him to halt. He flushed, awkward, surprised, and indignant.

Caroline turned and saw him. She started, and her cheeks also grew crimson. Then, recovering, she looked him full in the face, and deliberately and disdainfully turned her back.

“Come, Steve!” she said again, and walked from the room.

Her brother hesitated, glared at Pearson, and then stalked haughtily after her.

Captain Elisha’s bewilderment was supreme. He stared, open-mouthed, after his nephew and niece, and then turned slowly to his friend.

“What on earth, Jim,” he stammered. “What’s itmean?”

Pearson shrugged his shoulders. “I think I know what it means,” he said. “I presume that Miss Warren and her brother have learned of my trouble with their father.”

“Hey? No! you don’t thinkthat’sit.”

“I think there’s no doubt of it.”

“But how?”

“I don’t know how. What I do know is that I shouldnot have come here. I felt it and, if you will remember, I said so. I was a fool. Good night, Captain.”

Hot and furiously angry at his own indecision which had placed him in this humiliating situation, he was striding towards the hall. Captain Elisha seized his arm.

“Stay where you are, Jim!” he commanded. “If the trouble’s what you think it is, I’m more to blame than anybody else, and you sha’n’t leave this house till I’ve done my best to square you.”

“Thank you; but I don’t wish to be ‘squared.’ I’ve done nothing to be ashamed of, and I have borne as many insults as I can stand. I’m going.”

“No, you ain’t. Not yet. I want you to stay.”

At that moment Stephen’s voice reached them from the adjoining room.

“I tell you I shall, Caro!” it proclaimed, fiercely. “Do you suppose I’m going to permit that fellow to come here again—or to go until he is made to understand what we think of him and why? No, by gad! I’m the man of this family, and I’ll tell him a few things.”

Pearson’s jaw set grimly.

“You may let go of my wrist, Captain Warren,” he said; “I’ll stay.”

Possibly Stephen’s intense desire to prove his manliness made him self-conscious. At any rate, he never appeared more ridiculously boyish than when, an instant later, he marched into the library and confronted his uncle and Pearson.

“I—I want to say—” he began, majestically; “I want to say—”

He paused, choking, and brandished his fist.

“I want to say—” he began again.

“All right, Stevie,” interrupted the captain, dryly, “then I’d say it if I was you. I guess it’s time you did.”

“I want to—to tell that fellowthere,” with a vicious stab of his forefinger in the direction of Pearson, “that I consider him an—an ingrate—and a scoundrel—and a miserable—”

“Steady!” Captain Elisha’s interruption was sharp this time. “Steady now! Leave out the pet names. What is it you’ve got to tell?”

“I—my sister and I have found out what a scoundrel he is, that’s what! We’ve learned of the lies he wrote about father. We know that he was responsible for all that cowardly, lying stuff in thePlanet—all that about the Trolley Combine. And we don’t intend that he shall sneak into this house again. If he was the least part of a man, he would never have come.”

“Mr. Warren—” began Pearson, stepping forward. The captain interrupted.

“Hold on, Jim!” he said. “Just a minute now. You’ve learned somethin’, you say, Stevie. The Dunns told you, I s’pose.”

“Never mind who told me!”

“I don’t—much. But I guess we’d better have a clear understandin’, all of us. Caroline, will you come in here, please?”

He stepped toward the door. Stephen sprang in front of him.

“My sister doesn’t intend to cheapen herself by entering that man’s presence,” he declared, hotly. “I’ll deal with him, myself!”

“All right. But I guess she’d better be here, just the same. Caroline, I want you.”

“She sha’n’t come!”

“Yes, she shall. Caroline!”

The boy would have detained him, but he pushed him firmly aside and walked toward the door. Before he reached it, however, his niece appeared.

“Well?” she said, coldly. “What is it you want of me?”

“I want you to hear Mr. Pearson’s side of this business—and mine—before you do anything you’ll be sorry for.”

“I think I’ve heard quite enough of Mr. Pearson already. Nothing he can say or do will make me more sorry than I am, or humiliate me more than the fact that I have treated him as a friend.”

The icy contempt in her tone was cutting. Pearson’s face was white, but he spoke clearly and with deliberation.

“Miss Warren,” he said, “I must insist that you listen for another moment. I owe you an apology for—”

“Apology!” broke in Stephen, with a scornful laugh. “Apology! Well, by gad! Just hear that, Caro!”

The girl’s lip curled. “I do not wish to hear your apology,” she said.

“But I wish you to hear it. Not for my attitude in the Trolley matter, nor for what I published in thePlanet. Nor for my part in the disagreement with your father. I wrote the truth and nothing more. I considered it right then—I told your father so—and I have not changed my mind. I should act exactly the same under similar circumstances.”

“You blackguard!” shouted Stephen. Pearson ignored him utterly.

“I do owe you an apology,” he continued, “for coming here, as I have done, knowing that you were ignorant of the affair. I believe now that you are misinformedas to the facts, but that is immaterial. You should have been told of my trouble with Mr. Warren. I should have insisted upon it. That I did not do so is my fault and I apologize; but for that only. Good evening.”

He shook himself free from the captain’s grasp, bowed to the trio, and left the room. An instant later the outer door closed behind him.

Caroline turned to her brother. “Come, Steve,” she said.

“Stay right where you are!” Captain Elisha did not request now, he commanded. “Stevie, stand still. Caroline, I want to talk to you.”

The girl hesitated. She had never been spoken to in that tone before. Her pride had been already deeply wounded by what she had learned that afternoon; she was fiercely resentful, angry, and rebellious. She was sure she never hated anyone as she did this man who ordered her to stay and listen to him. But—she stayed.

“Caroline,” said Captain Elisha, after a moment of silence, “I presume likely—of course I don’t know for sartin, but I presume likely it’s Mrs. Dunn and that son of hers who’ve told you what you think you know.”

“It doesn’t concern you who told us!” blustered Stephen, pushing forward. He might have been a fly buzzing on the wall for all the attention his uncle paid him.

“I presume likely the Dunns told you, Caroline,” he repeated, calmly.

His niece met his gaze stubbornly.

“Well,” she answered, “and if they did? Wasn’t it necessary we should know it? Oh!” with a shudder of disgust, “I wish I could make you understand how ashamed I feel—howwickedand ashamed I feel thatI—Ishould have disgraced father’s memory by.... Oh, but there! I can’t! Yes; Mrs. Dunn and Malcolm did tell us—many things. Thank God that wehavefriends to tell us the truth!”

“Amen!” quietly. “I’ll say amen to that, Caroline, any time. Only I want you to be sure those you call friends are real ones and that the truths they tell ain’t like the bait on a fishhook, put onforbait and just thick enough to cover the barb.”

“Do you mean to insinuate—” screamed the irrepressible nephew, wild at being so completely ignored. His uncle again paid not the slightest attention.

“But that ain’t neither here nor there now,” he went on. “Caroline, Mr. Pearson just told you that his coming to this house without tellin’ you fust of his quarrel with ’Bije was his fault. That ain’t so. The fault was mine altogether. He told me the whole story; told me that he hadn’t called since it happened, on that very account. And I took the whole responsibility andaskedhim to come. I did! Do you know why?”

If he expected an answer none was given. Caroline’s lids drooped disdainfully. “Steve,” she said, “let us go.”

“Stop! You’ll stay here until I finish. I want to say that I didn’t tell you about the Trolley fuss because I wanted you to learn some things for yourself. I wanted you to know Mr. Pearson—to find out what sort of man he was afore you judged him. Then, when you had known him long enough to understand he wasn’t a liar and a blackguard, and all that Steve has called him, I was goin’ to tell you the whole truth, not a part of it. And, after that, I was goin’ to let you decide for yourself what to do. I’m a lot older than you are; I’ve mixed with all sorts of folks; I’m past the stage whereI can be fooled by—by false hair or soft soap. You can’t pour sweet oil over a herrin’ and make me believe it’s a sardine. I know the Pearson stock. I’ve sailed over a heap of salt water with one of the family. And I’ve kept my eyes open since I’ve run acrost this particular member. And I knew your father, too, Caroline Warren. And I say to you now that, knowin’ Jim Pearson and ’Bije Warren—yes, and knowin’ the rights and wrongs of that Trolley business quite as well as Malcolm Dunn or anybody else—I say to you that, although ’Bije was my brother, I’d bet my life that Jim had all the right on his side. There! that’s the truth, and no hook underneath it. And some day you’ll realize it, too.”

He had spoken with great vehemence. Now he took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his forehead. When he again looked at his niece, he found her staring intently at him; and her eyes blazed.

“Have you quite finished—now?” she demanded. “Steve, be quiet!”

“Why, yes, I guess so, pretty nigh. I s’pose there ain’t much use to say more. If I was to tell you that I’ve tried to do for you and Steve in this—same as in everything else since I took this job—as if you were my own children, you wouldn’t believe it. If I was to tell you, Caroline, that I’d come to think an awful lot of you, you wouldn’t believe that, either. I did hope that since our other misunderstandin’ was cleared up, and you found I wa’n’t what you thought I was, you’d come to me and ask questions afore passin’ judgment; but perhaps—”

And now she interrupted, bursting out at him in a blast of scorn which took his breath away.

“Oh, stop! stop!” she cried. “Don’t say any more.You have insulted father’s memory, and defended the man who slandered him. Isn’t that enough? Why must you go on to prove yourself a greater hypocrite? We learned, my brother and I, to-day more than the truth concerning yourfriend. We learned that you have lied—yes, lied—and—”

“Steady, Caroline! be careful. I wouldn’t say what I might be sorry for later.”

“Sorry! Captain Warren, you spoke of my misjudging you. I thought I had, and I was sorry. To-day I learned that your attitude in that affair was a lie like the rest.Youdid not pay for Mr. Moriarty’s accident. Mr. Dunn’s money paid those bills. And you allowed the family—and me—to thankyoufor your generosity. Oh, I’m ashamed to be near you!”

“There! There! Caroline, be still. I—”

“I shall not be still. I have been still altogether too long. You are our guardian. We can’t help that, I suppose. Father asked you to be that, for some reason; but did he ask you tolivehere where you are not wanted? To shame us before our friends, ladies and gentlemen so far above you in every way? And to try to poison our minds against them and sneer at them when they are kind to us and even try to be kind to you? No, he did not! Oh, I’m sick of it all! your deceit and your hypocritical speeches and your pretended love for us.Love! Oh, if I could say something that would make you understand how thoroughly we despise you, and how your presence, ever since you forced it upon Steve and me, has disgraced us! If I only could! I—I—”

She had been near to tears ever since Mrs. Corcoran Dunn, in the kindness of her heart, told her the “truth” that afternoon. But pride and indignation had preventedher giving way. Now, however, she broke down.

“Oh—oh, Steve!” she cried, and, turning to her brother, sobbed hysterically on his shoulder. “Oh, Steve, what shall we do?”

Stephen put his arm about her waist. “It’s all right, Sis,” he said soothingly. “Don’t cry beforehim! I guess,” with a glance at his uncle, “you’ve said enough to make even him understand—at last.”

Captain Elisha looked gravely at the pair. “I guess you have,” he said slowly. “I guess you have, Caroline. Anyhow, I can’t think offhand of anything you’ve left out. I could explain some things, but what’s the use? And,” with a sigh, “you may be right in a way. Perhaps I shouldn’t have come here to live. If you’d only told me plain afore just how you felt, I’d—maybe I’d—but there! I didn’t know—I didn’t know. You see, I thought.... However, I guess that part of your troubles is over. But,” he added, firmly, “wherever I am, or wherever I go, you must understand that I’m your guardian, just the same. I considered a long spell afore I took the place, and I never abandoned a ship yet, once I took command of her. And I’ll stick to this one! Yes, sir! I’ll stick to it in spite of the devil—or the Dunns, either. Till you and your brother are of age I’m goin’ to look out for you and your interests and your money; and nothin’ nor nobody shall stop me. As for forcin’ my company on you, though, that well, that’s different. I cal’late you won’t have to worry any more. Good night.”

He thrust his hands into his pockets and walked slowly from the library.

Stephen, the “man of the family,” was the only member of the household, servants excepted, who slept soundly that night. Conscious of having done his duty in the affair with Pearson and his guardian, and somewhat fatigued by the disagreeable task of soothing his hysterical sister, he was slumbering peacefully at nine the next morning when awakened by a series of raps on his bedroom door.

“Ah! What? Well, what is it?” he demanded, testily opening his eyes. “Edwards, is that you? What the devil do you mean by making such a row?”

The voice which answered was not the butler’s, but Caroline’s.

“Steve! Oh, Steve!” she cried. “Do get up and come out! Come, quick!”

“What’s the matter?” inquired the young man, sitting up in bed. “Is the house afire?”

“No, no! But do come! I want you. Something has happened.”

“Happened? What is it?”

“I can’t tell you here. Please dress and come to me as quick as you can.”

Stephen, wondering and somewhat alarmed, dressed with unusual promptitude and obeyed. He found his sister standing by the library window, a letter in her hand. She looked troubled and anxious.

“Well, Caro,” observed the boy, “here I am. What in the world’s up now?”

She turned.

“Oh, Steve!” she exclaimed, “he’s gone!”

“Gone? Who?”

“Captain Warren. He’s gone.”

“Gone? Gone where? Caro, you don’t mean he’s—dead?”

“No, he’s gone—gone and left us.”

Her brother’s expression changed to incredulous joy.

“What?” he shouted. “You mean he’s quit? Cleared out? Left here for good?”

“Yes.”

“Hurrah! Excuse me while I gloat! Hurrah! We got it through his skull at last! Is it possible? But—but hold on! Perhaps it’s too good to be true. Are you sure? How do you know?”

“He says so. See.”

She handed him the letter. It was addressed to “My dear Caroline” and in it Captain Elisha stated his intentions succinctly. After the plain speaking of the previous evening he should not, of course, burden them with his society any longer. He was leaving that morning, and, as soon as he “located permanent moorings somewhere else” would notify his niece and nephew of his whereabouts.

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