A FEAST IS BETTER THAN FIRECRACKERS.
“And so they have got their wedding reception after all, Angeline,” laughed Mr. Cornwallis, “and without any fussery or finery of the tiresome cut and dried pattern.”
Then the brass band played a wedding march. Lawyer Rattlinger and President Hartling dropped in and made excellent, “higher plane” speeches—that is, speeches delightfully devoid of brutish war-sentiment and silly spread-eagleism—after which the Sunday-school children sang, “God Bless Our Native Land,” with great vigor and were rewarded with a delicious finish of ice-cream and lemonade.
They went home as happy as larks, although their pockets were stuffed with nuts and candies instead of baneful firecrackers and deadly toy-pistols—a lively protest for their elders who have been too ready to say that a boy will not be satisfied with anything that does not possess the elements of noise and danger.
As Ralph surmised, the Schwarmers were making great preparations for the evening display. It was to be a splendid one. A select party had been invited from the city to witness it. They came on the afternoon train while the celebration was at its height; so their advent made no sensation. The shops were closed and the streets werequite deserted, greatly to Mr. Schwarmer’s chagrin, for in making his plans for a brilliant gathering he had counted on a background of gaping people and corruscating fireworks. The deficiency was so noticeable that Mr. Alfonso Bombs, the rising Pyro-spectacle King of the city—the guest par excellence whom he wished to honor in an appropriate manner, exclaimed derisively:
“How’s this, Schwarmer? Have they exhausted your huge supply already and annihilated themselves in the performance? I thought this was your kingdom (so to speak) and we should be treated to a triumphal entry.”
Schwarmer would rather have had the matter unnoticed, but it was not and he would not imperil his reputation for bluntness by keeping silence.
“You’ve been in England too long, Alfonso. You’ve forgotten that we don’t have things of that sort as they do on the other side of the pond—that is, except in a way, you understand—an irregular sort of way. Consequently we never know just what will take place at a given point, you see—or just when a triumphal entry will materialize, so to speak, most assuredly we don’t. It’s never been at all like this before; most assuredly it hasn’t. There have always been plenty of racket, plenty of fireworks and things of that sort from dawn to dark and fore and aft—variegated with a run-away horse and excitements of that kind; but the fact is a great moral wave has struck thetown—a very large one. You see, even a moral wave is liable to be of very large dimensions, this side of the pond.”
“Moral wave! Mr. Schwarmer,” drawled one of the ladies. “Re-al-ly you must be joking. I have been educated to think it was an exceedingly immoral procedure not to celebrate our Independence Day in an appropriate and impressive manner.”
“Impressive—yes truly impressive, dear lady; but you see it’s too impressive sometimes—too largely impressive, as everything is apt to be in this country—that is if it’s impressive at all, and now and then it impresses the wrong boy. Last year a lawyer’s little boy had a finger broken and an alderman’s boy had an eye hurt.”
“Ah indeed! That was most unfortunate,” replied Miss Drawling; “and they were people of consequence—that is, in this small community.”
“Certainly! certainly—that is of the ‘toad in the puddle style’” laughed Schwarmer. “So you see they called a meeting, a sort of grievance meeting and resolved not to let their children have any more fireworks. Now I believe they are having a pious celebration in the church grove or graveyard, I don’t know which.”
“Whew! oh whew!” whistled Mr. Bombs; “and so you have all that patriotic fervor on your hands! Shall we make a bonfire of it tomorrow as a starter to their lagging patriotism?”
“Not unless we go a-fishing,” laughed Schwarmer, beckoning him aside. “You know how a thing of that kind turns when the sediments are all stirred up so to speak. A lot of cranks seized the fireworks and dumped them all into the river! They fancied they were our forefathers, I suppose, dumping the English tea into Boston Harbor—the knaves!”
“Zounds!” exclaimed Mr. Bombs. “That was a steep proceeding. How high do you suppose it will climb?”
“K. K.,” replied Schwarmer. “Probably until the attention is called off by some new thing—very new and of more dazzling proportions—like those new inventions of yours—for instance.”
“I understand! Good! Good! Nero is himself again. The siege of Yorktown! The Battle of Gettysburg! and Johnny Bull’s Bellows to offset Pang’s Eagle Screams! Eh, Schwarmer!” added Bombs in a low tone, giving him a sly poke in the ribs; “and money made out of them. That’s better than giving away things to an ungrateful public. They can’t throw Yorktown into the river if they should try. You are a trump, Schwarmer.”
That ended the business for Schwarmer. There was nothing that pleased him better than being called a trump. He had not really intended to make a business proposition; but the shrewd would-be million-maker and son of a million-makerhad construed it into that meaning, and it was understood to be an unwritten bargain between them.
Thereupon a great silence fell upon the spirit of Alfonso Bombs. He was resting in rich security—the kind of security he liked. The $10,000,000 that for a few brief moments seemed jeopardized would eventually flow into the great Bombs’ coffers and the time would come when he would be more envied than the President of the United States; and his old-time victor would be beaten back to the place from whence he came.
“Bah!” the thin lips parted with an ironical smile, and the word of contempt came very near falling out. He congratulated himself on having checked it in time, for turning aside he saw a pair of clear but rather penetrating eyes looking directly at him, and a gentle voice asked:
“What is it that pleases you so dreadfully, Mr. Bombs?”
It was the voice of Adelaide Schwarmer.
“O! Ah! Beg pardon, Miss Adelaide,” said Mr. Bombs, in the flurried way which was usual with him when she asked him a sudden question, although she was only a chit of a girl, barely fifteen years of age.
“For the smile or the style of it, Mr. Bombs?”
“For both if need be; but where did you come from so suddenly? I didn’t see you at the train.”
“No, I wasn’t there, I stopped to shake paws with—guess who?”
“The baker or candlestick-maker or some stick-at-home fellow. Most of the folks seem to have gone away.”
“No, it was a dog—Ruth Cornwallis’ dog. He’s funny. He always wants to shake paws with me when I come. I haven’t been here in two years, but he was on hand toshakeall the same. I wonder why?”
“Can’t say, Miss Adelaide. All I know is that dogs were on hand to bark at us when we got off from the train, quite a number of them and there was one that led the band.”
“I wonder if it was Ruth’s—he came running from that way. How did he look?”
“Can’t say. They looked so much alike; but I think this one had a new white collar on, as though there had been a wedding in the family.”
“O that’s the one, Mr. Bombs. I wonder what made him bark atyou?”
“None but a dog could tell, Miss Adelaide, and they are dumb.”
“I wouldn’t blame him if you had that dreadful smile on, Mr. Bombs.”
“It wouldn’t do any good to blame him anyhow, Miss Adelaide. Dogs know what they are about as well as folks.”
“Don’t you think it does any good to blame folks when they do wrong?”
“Not much, not much. Sometimes it does harm—almost always to contrary people.”
“Well, I’m going to blame them any way every time I see them doing anything Iknowis wrong after this and take the chances. I’ll be fifteen years old tomorrow.”
“Better put it off until you are of age, Miss Adelaide.”
“No, I will not, Mr. Bombs. You needn’t smile that smile—I’m going to begin tomorrow at the very hour.”
They walked slowly up the hill while the rest of the party dashed by them in the Schwarmer turnouts; but they did not speak to each other again until the party had gathered on the broad veranda to witness the evening’s entertainment.
ALFONSO BOMBS’ PYROTECHNICS AND ADELAIDE SCHWARMER’S BLAME.
Mr. Bombshad brought with him some of the most elaborate and artistic works known to the trade. He had in mind works of a much grander and more instructive nature—works that would be truly great and high and far reaching (so he said); works that would be fit for the greatest king on earth to look at; that would startle and vivify the entire world and make the family name illustrious. He had been collecting material for his works throughout his college course—historical events, especially the burning and storming of cities and such of the battles and conflicts as lent themselves readily to pyrotechnic delineation. He was busy experimenting with his material. He expected to have his first historical piece finished by this time next year, and he was happy to think he had secured so good a place for its representation.
He thought the people of the town would like it—this new and higher development of pyrotechnic art; but that it did not matter much whether they liked it or not. There would be a big crowd from the city of invited guests and others, for Schwarmer would be in it heart and soul as well as purse. He had given him efficient aid in getting his pieces ready for the evening.
“I wonder if those idiots down below will disdain to watch our performance,” asked Bombs, as he was about to begin.
“Undoubtedly not—that is after they’ve spanked the children and sent them to bed,” laughed Schwarmer. “That’s the extent of the moral wave with that sort of people. It generally stops with the youngsters. After they are disposed of they’ll sit on their door stones until the last flare, most assuredly they will. Shall we send a searchlight after them?”
“No! no! Schwarmer. We can’t afford to waste time and timber, hunting up such light-quenchers. We can’t begin any lower down than ‘mosaics’ if we do full justice to ‘Tourbillions’—that is get in all the inventions and improvements which I have made the last year.”
“Go on, then, Alfonso. Let’s have the improvements life-size and inventions too, all of them, though the heavens should fall and the nearest stars have to be knocked out, so to speak?”
“O papa! papa!” exclaimed Adelaide in a toneof reproach, “true stars are so much prettier than manufactured ones can possibly be, and they don’t tire anybody to death.”
Bombs winced but he went about his mosaics and was soon receiving flattering comments and profuse compliments from the guests.
“Allow me to congratulate you, Mr. Bombs,” said Miss Drawling. “Your mosaics are truly splendid, especially the designs of your own invention. They are quite beyond the artist’s dream. I saw a great many pieces of mocaic work when I visited the galleries of Greece and Rome. They were supposed to be very wonderful but commend yours to me.”
“Thanks and thanks for such kindly appreciation,” replied Bombs, bending low and glancing aside at Adelaide. She had not retired, and was looking as though she were trying to be amused.
“I never cared much for mosaics,” remarked Mrs. Shannon—“the real ones. They are so small and look so trifling and dull; but yours are bright and sizable and so charmingly changeable, Mr. Bombs.”
Even while the shower of compliments was in process the many colored pieces gave a sudden toss up as though in disdain and came down in the form of letters—at least the letters were there dancing along on the dusky background and arranging themselves into words; and the words were “Welcome to Schwarmer Hill!”
It was pronounced “a charming welcome.”
“Written in all the colors of the rainbow and without the tiresome pen and ink,” remarked Miss Drawling. It was a surprise even to the Schwarmers. They were highly delighted—at least Mr. and Mrs. Schwarmer. Miss Adelaide was inhaling the fragrance of a rose which she had brought in from the dewy garden. She said nothing; but the guests were enthusiastic in their praises—especially of the dexterity which had been displayed.
“A warm welcome, indeed,” was the fiat of the college bred Miss Hannibal—“written in letters of fire; and such letters! So graceful and serpentine! and some of them quite new! Your own invention or modification without a doubt. Surely I have never seen anything in the shape of letters so perfectly unique!”
After the fiery welcome there was a fountain.
“Guests are supposed to be thirsty,” remarked Dr. Orison. “That was a happy thought of yours, Mr. Bombs.”
“And you must have patterned it after the famous old Italian fountains,” added his wife—“the royal ones that were filled with wines of all kinds and colors and sparkle and spirit also. You are a genius, Mr. Bombs.”
After that there were palm trees and Highland tartans, which were duly praised and commented upon.
Then came the sun—the last of the fixedfireworks. Then the rotating ones—the firewheels and finally the whole solar system. After this there was an intermission of half an hour during which the guests were regaled with rare wines, cakes and cigars.
Young Bombs shied away from the flattering spectators and went over to the secluded corner where Adelaide was sitting. He had a full goblet of wine in one hand and a choice Havana cigar in the other. He did not go because he was especially or magnetically drawn or wanted her society, but because he wanted no society. It had been something of a strain on his nerves to see that everything went off right and was effectively and harmoniously arranged, and the end was not yet. He was in no mood to listen to extravagant praise, and he knew where he would not get it.
Adelaide still had the rose in hand and was enjoying its beauty—bestowing loving looks and lips upon it as well and inhaling its fragrance.
“Nothing but a rose,” said Bombs, after he had seated himself leisurely at her side and taken a sip of wine.
“Nothing but a rose,” repeated Adelaide; “but a rose is a great deal, Mr. Bombs. It is beauty, fragrance and color—soft and restful color.”
“O! I understand. I know you don’t like fireworks, nor much of anything as yet—that is in the line of human invention.”
“I like human inventions but I don’t like inhumanones that dazzle my eyes out. I think they would make me stone blind if Ihadto look at them long at a time.”
Mr. Bombs looked at her fixedly while he continued to sip the wine. He noticed for the first time that her eyes were of the palest blue and her hair of the palest gold and wondered if there was anything in her physical makeup that made it naturally antagonistic to fiery display. “Did the doves hate fireworks and did the serpents like them?” was the question he asked himself.
“Perhaps you will like my new piece better,” he remarked after he had finished the wine. “Tourbillions are a higher form of Pyro.”
“When is your new piece going to be spoken?” laughed Adelaide.
“At the end, of course. You hadn’t betterretire—it might wake you up. It will be huge, Miss Adelaide.”
“The bigger they are the more I don’t like them, Mr. Bombs. The little ones tire me and the big ones scare me. You know how I screamed when that horrid London Pyro-King sent off his biggest rockets. They looked so dangerous—as though a terrible comet or electric storm were crashing into the earth to destroy it. Is your new piece dangerous, Mr. Bombs?”
“Not very, I hope, Miss Adelaide.”
“You mean that itisa little dangerous, Mr. Bombs. Now I want to know if you don’t thinkthere are dangerous things enough in the world without inventing any more?”
“I think you are mightily like old Pythagoras, Miss Adelaide.”
“Why so, Mr. Bombs?”
“He was said to be an ‘assiduous questioner’, Miss Adelaide.”
That ended it. He lighted his cigar and went out into the garden.
Soon afterwards the Tourbillions began to ascend; and the heavens, at least that portion of them that belonged to Schwarmer Hill, was soon filled with jets and coils of flame and stars of many magnitudes and colors. The spectators appeared to be highly delighted—all except Adelaide. She was growing tired. Her eyes burned, her head ached and she was thinking of going to her room, when suddenly the sky cleared and she heard the voice of Bombs announcing the closing piece—“his new contribution to Pyrotechnic art.”
He said among other things that he had invented the piece especially for this occasion; that it had as yet no name; that he had left it for the ladies to name—that is, if it proved to be a success, or materialized as he expected it would. Otherwise it might better be nameless; for if it were mentioned at all it would be called “The light that failed.” However he would say this much as to its composition and intention. It was intended to be a sort of cross between the girandole and thewar-rocket. The girandole proper was getting to be rather monotonous, having been used as the end piece to pyro-spectacles for fifty years or more. He thought it was high time to have a new one. It was also necessary that the new one should be superior to the old one, both in size and splendor of coloring. There was no such thing as going backward in this matter. We might as well talk of the decadence of American institutions or the annihilation of “The Fourth of July.”
“As to its composition,” continued Bombs, “I think you will believe after you have seen it, that it was no slight thing to get up a piece of this kind—so many points had to be considered. As an example there was the one thing of garniture. The ladies will appreciate this very readily. If I mistake not, a lady would think a week spent in selecting the proper trimmings for her dress was a long time. What then would she say if I told her that I spent two months selecting the most effective garniture for my piece—two months to get it entirely out of the region of commonness—the region of gold and silver rain and of the ‘Peacock’s Tail!’” The ladies waved their fans and clapped their hands, during which commotion Mr. Bombs disappeared from view.
While Adelaide was wondering where he had gone to so suddenly, a huge stream of serpentine fire issued from the Engine House. It grew larger and larger every moment. It lifted itself intomonstrous coils. It hissed and sent forth tongues of flame. It vomited forth all sorts of hideous shapes, in all sorts of lurid colors, ever increasing in size and horror until no more could be conceived—then there was a loud report and a great globe of fire plunged downward and disappeared behind the brow of the hill!
The gentlemen applauded. Bombs had said in the beginning that the piece was a cross between a war rocket and a girandole and they supposed that the report and the ball of fire was the war part of it, but Adelaide knew that it was an accident and she thought of the gardener’s cottage with a thrill of fear.
A moment afterwards a sheet of light and flame came streaming up from that direction, a woman’s voice cried “Fire! Fire!” and a woman’s form clad in white appeared on the fiery background. The spectators were startled for the moment; then they broke out in wild applause.
Dr. Orison said “It is ever thus after war.”
The woman was standing still with her arms twisted about her body, as though in mortal agony. They thought she was there advisedly to represent the realistic finishing of Mr. Bombs’ piece. But they were soon undeceived. Another cry rent the air.
“It’s Mary, the gardener’s wife! Help! help! Her house must be on fire.”
It was the cry of Adelaide Schwarmer as she ran to her assistance.
“FIRE, FIRE!” CRIED A VOICE.
“O my baby! My baby!” moaned the poor woman stumbling along toward her.
“Where is it, where?” asked Adelaide.
“Lost! Lost!” she cried, sinking down in a dead faint.
Mrs. Schwarmer divined the situation and was soon at her side. She threw her magnificent shawl over the prostrate figure. Her husband was sent for. He was in the kitchen helping the servants. They came and carried her in. Dr. Orison offered his services and the rest of the men hastened to the fire; but a stream of water was pouring down on it from the Engine House and their aid was not needed. They returned and reported that “the fire was a trifling affair.”
“But where is her baby!” asked Adelaide. “She said she had lost her baby. We must find it for her.”
“Adelaide,” said her mother sternly, “go to your room at once. It is not proper for you to ask questions about such matters. Your father and Mr. Bombs will make whatever search the doctor thinks necessary.”
Half an hour afterwards Dr. Orison returned to the guests and reported the woman to be out of danger. His silence with regard to the baby was understood to mean that it had never lived and that it was a matter of no earthly consequence.
A matter of much greater interest to one and all of the gay people assembled there, appeared tobe Mr. Bombs’ ingenious explanation with regard to the failure of his piece and his prompt action in turning on the hose for the quenching of the fire—for the last of which he received many compliments.
On the contrary Adelaide could think of nothing but the gardener’s wife and her lost baby. She could not sleep. She was in an agony of suspense—to know how it had fared with them. She thought the guests would talk it over at the breakfast table; but she was mistaken. Not a word was said about it and all seemed as lively as though nothing at all had happened. She did not dare to ask them any questions on the subject after her mother’s rebuke, but she knew she could ask her father. She saw him out on the hill and ran after him.
“Mary! poor Mary! how is she, father?” she gasped out.
“O! she’s all right Addie, only a little scare. She’ll be all right again in a few days the doctor says.”
“And the baby. Did you find the baby?”
“Yes we found it, Addie, and took it to her. Bombs found it just over there by that clump of milkweeds—but it wasn’t much of a find—most assuredly it wasn’t. It was dead of course; and I guess it was a Providence for they’ve got two little tots now and they’re not very forehanded. If they kept on at that rate they’ll have aswarm of them soon, and I shall have to turn them off.”
“O don’t say that! It’s dreadful. She loved her baby and she was in such agony when she lost it! O I never saw such agony! You must not turn them off—never, never. It would be wrong, I know it would after this awful fright! We ought to give them something to make up for it. I know we had, father! I know it! And I’m going to give her all I have got in my purse and I shall remember her as long as I live!”
“Softly Addie! Softly! Don’t let any of the gentry over there hear you. They’d think you were crazy. We’ll fix it between ourselves—we won’t be hard on them if they do have a big swarm. We’ll see that they don’t starve. Most assuredly we will.”
“They ought to have good big wages. They make the flowers grow so beautifully.”
“Yes Addie the flowers are all right; but where’s the lawn, the green velvet lawn that your mamma raves about so much. The grass can’t grow with so many little feet trotting over it.”
“But little feet are of more consequence than grass, you know they are, only you don’t stop to think. And little children are better than fireworks. I wish all the ugly old fireworks were at the bottom of the sea. You ought not to have let Mr. Bombs send off his piece over the gardener’s house.”
He had not told her about the fireworks that were at the bottom of the river and he hated the idea of doing so. He turned away and she went to the engine house. Bombs was there. She was going to blame him for what had happened—that is all that he deserved to be.
“Was your piece more dangerous than you thought, Mr. Bombs?”
“Well, rather, Miss Adelaide—that is I didn’t expect it was going to burst up—or down I should say.”
“But you knew it was dangerous enough to set things on fire if itdidburst and strike them, Mr. Bombs.”
“Yes, Miss, I knew enough for that.”
“Then you are to blame for sending it off where youdid, Mr. Bombs, and father is to blame for letting you do it. I have just told him so.”
“There was no other place—that is handy—where the ladies could see it and be comfortably seated, Miss Adelaide.”
“Then there ought to have been a place made, Mr. Bombs, and if there couldn’t have been, then you ought not to have sent it off atall. You know you had not, and I shall always blame you for it. It was very, very wrong.”
“I see!” laughed Bombs. “You are on your blaming expedition this morning, Miss Adelaide. You are right about having a place made, though. There ought to be for large works; and when Iget my historical piece done there will be a place on purpose for it—a large place—a sort of a grand amphitheatre something like the old Roman but Americanized and more enjoyable. That’s my ambition. I have got through even with tourbillions.”
SCHWARMER’S THREATENED ARREST.
Mr. Schwarmerwas a man who talked very bluntly, so he admitted, but he expected to give his hearers the impression that his bluntness was simply a species of noble frankness. The next day but one after Independence Day, he informed the few acquaintances whom he happened to meet at the depot, that he was obliged to return to the city at once for two reasons. The first was a rise in stocks and the second was to see his family off on the steamer, but that he would return on the fifteenth of the month and arrest and punish the chief leaders in the plot which had resulted in the destruction of his property.
For once or rather for the first time in his dealings with the Killsbury community, his bluntness was taken literally and turned to good account. A mass meeting was not called but there was a great deal of calling and consulting among the women of the town. Ruth Cornwallis Norwood was very busy during the interval of expectancy. She sether own wits to work and inspired others to do the same. The result was that rather a novel plan was proposed—“So novel that it was funny,” said the President’s wife; but the more they talked and laughed about it, the more they thought they would try it. They assumed to begin, with that they instead of their husbands were the chief leaders or instigators in the destruction of the Schwarmer property. Ruth was duly charged with and promptly confessed being at the head of the whole affair. Therefore it was resolved that when the dread day came and the dread form of Millionaire Schwarmer was apparent on the Hill, they would not wait to be arrested. They would call on him in a body and deliver themselves up. They reasoned that it would be a pity to put him to the trouble of arresting them singly; besides it would be a great expense to the town. They supposed that the citizens of the town would have to pay for all the arrests and they felt sure that they couldn’t afford to—or at least that they had a right to cut down their own expenses wherever they chose. They had other ideas in their heads also. Some of them could make speeches and delivering themselves up to Mr. Schwarmer gave them a chance.
In an interview with President Hartling, he said:
“I agree with you. There’s many a truth spoken in jest and my opinion is that women excel in this direction.”
Then he stopped and hummed a tune that wound up with the words:
“I believe in all the people’Tis through them we shall be blest.”
“Yes,” he added, “I believe especially in the women people and my impression is that the women of this town can settle this business with Schwarmer. You know what the town needs and what he has always been promising it. After the arrests are settled you might extend your wits and get him to ‘fork over’ as the boys say. I can’t tell you just how to do it. I don’t like the bossing business and I’m sure you will know how to act better than I can tell you. The work of the Common Council is to get their ordinance in good working order before the next Independence Day comes. Father Ferrill’s miracle and the appeal brought us through safely this year. The educational and moral waves which are the only true preparation for good laws were set in motion; but something more may be required next year for the scourging of the money-changers. There are signs in the air that prohibitory measures will have to be resorted to.
“Schwarmer’s determination to distribute fireworks in spite of the appeal is a sign,” said Ralph. He repeated the whole story, not even leaving out Ruth’s experience with Mr. Schwarmer in the matter.
“I see,” said the President. “Many kinds ofeffort will have to be made to squelch this many-headed monster. More and more laws may be called for but it makes me sad to think of it. I am prejudiced against law—its autocracy, its insulting enforcements, its perplexing entanglements. As to celebrations when they grow to be such dangerous nuisances as to require the interference of law to any great extent, it is a sure sign that they ought to be done away with.”
“How I wish this savage old Fourth which is so full of boasting and danger,couldbe done away with!” said Ruth. “It will be so hard to make it entirely harmless—especially for the children—the little innocent children who are born into the world so helpless, and have to live in it so many years before they can learn how to avoid its dangers—the simple every day dangers, to say nothing of the complex and deadly ones that lie concealed beneath attractive forms. Who have to be taught, denied, imprisoned and punished every step of the way almost. O what a task for loving parents!”
“And what a shame,” said Ralph, “that people should go on inventing and manufacturing more and more of those horrible things and almost forcing them onto the community and into children’s hands! What can we do about that?”
“There’s a place for strong prohibitory laws and a call for the enforcement of those we have. Appeals are all right for sensible grown-up American citizens; but the young and innocent shouldnot be permitted to walk into the fire, the idiotic and mercenary should not be allowed to furnish the fire for them to walk into, and the devil’s imps should be prohibited from pushing them into it. Yes this is a good place for prohibition. Prohibition thatdoesprohibit—not as it now stands. I believe that the whole system will have to be overhauled to make it largely effective. That the general government will have to take it in hand and appoint earnest ununiformed watchers for all perilous times and places.”
“O that would be splendid,” cried Ruth—“like having guardian angels, invisible but earthly, for the young and innocent!”
“They are not here yet, dear,” laughed Ralph, “except for the President of the United States and others in authority, but I’m sure they are needed. It’s a sorry spectacle to see the small boy dodging the policeman and the hoodlum intimidating him with stones. I am glad we did not have a prohibitive notice on that account, besides Schwarmer’s hand would not have shown up so plainly.”
“And so am I,” said Ruth. Then she thought of the hand that had tried to pat her shoulder and blushed while Ralph grated his teeth and the President said in a serious voice:
“And I was just beginning to be sorry that we did not accept Dr. Normander’s wise prohibition to back the appeal since I perceive that lack of it has caused you needless trouble, insult and expense.”
“O we did not care about that, our hearts and souls were in it,” said Ruth and Ralph in chorus.
“But I care about it. It was not right. I perceive it would grow to be a grievous burden,itmust not go on,” he added in a pre-occupied way as though speaking to himself. “Providence has helped me through this time but I almost know He would not do it again. He has shown me the way. I will strive to walk in it. There are many lights by the way. I believe they are all essential and will be suffused at last into the one great light—the eternal verity.”
A moment later Dr. Normander came in.
“You are just in time, Doctor. I was going over to confess that your way was better than mine; or that my appeal needed your prohibitive crutch. Why didn’t you argue me down—down to the practical level at least? They call me a Golden Rule Man, but I am only a President—a figure-head, a blundering mortal and too much afraid of having more laws than are necessary, or than will be obeyed without hatred and strife.”
“Because I am prejudiced in favor of the loving appeal—the higher way, I suppose,” laughed Dr. Normander.
“But you did not propose it, Doctor. Did you think that the higher way—the way of appeal, was too high to be largely operative?”
“Yes, I could hardly help thinking that, for I have been preaching it for years; but I had aglimpse of the immediate good that a wise prohibition might do.”
“And the one you proposed covered Schwarmer very neatly, I noticed,” laughed the President, “but I don’t remember the exact wording.”
“It was not reduced to legal form but the idea was to prohibit the sale and giving away of all the dangerous Independence Day Fireworks,” said Dr. Normander.
“That will help, and we will have it put in legal phrase and made ready for use without delay; for I begin to think that Schwarmer is not to be trusted in this matter. He may need as many as two or three chains to hold him, that is, unless some sort of miraculous conversion overtakes him. You know miracles do happen now and then, Doctor, and I am rather expecting one from The Woman’s Educational or Missionary Department before the next Independence Day begins,” laughed the President. “There is no greater pest to society than a millionaire idiot, and there is no better way to get him to use his money rightly than to hand him over to the best women of society.”
“One more question before we are arrested, or arrest ourselves,” laughed Ruth.
“Can a law be made to prohibit Schwarmer or his guests from showering rockets on the town?”
“After he is through with the arresting business, we will see about the showering,” replied the President. “I fancy he will not be so muchenamored after that, with fiery showers as with those of a gentler kind, and really I don’t know as any laws could be made to prevent a man from having fireworks on his own premises, but he could be arrested for damages to the property or persons of others.”
“But we want him arrested fromdoingdamages and burning up money,” said Ruth.
“Then I believe you women will have to do it,” laughed the President. “The law isn’t premature enough. However if you fail I will study it up and see what it will do. I think the way is being prepared on the banks of the Hudson, by the Yale graduate who is dying at the house of a millionaire, from an injury received by a flying rocket.”
THE KILLSBURY WOMEN ARREST THEMSELVES.
Onthe fifteenth of July Schwarmer came as he was expected to do; for besides being a blunt man, he was known to be one who rarely broke his promise. He arrived on the morning train and in the afternoon while he was sitting in his beautiful office with the Golden Rule President on one side of him and Lawyer Rattlinger on the other, the door opened suddenly and disclosed a very pretty sight—namely a procession of ladies tastefully hatted and gowned. The ribbons which were fastened daintily on their shoulders fluttered like wings in the strong breeze caused by the opening of the door.
He had been informed that a delegation of ladies would do themselves the honor of calling upon him to ask a favor, the nature of which was not apparent, so he arose to his feet at once, with his broad smile and blunt speech.
“Bless you ladies! Really ladies! This is a great and unexpected surprise. A truly great and truly happy one. Bless you all. How lovelyyou look. You do me proud, most assuredly you do. Ask me any faver you choose. I almost know what it will be before you open your pretty lips—pardon or excuses for your husbands or sons for the destruction of my property. Ladies are always doing something of that kind, God bless them! I feel like accepting even before you ask me to, most assuredly I do. I know it wasn’t your fault. I know ladies don’t approve of such violent doings or go into them, unless dragged in by their husbands or sweethearts. I understand that. I shouldn’t be my mother’s son if I didn’t, ladies. You may make your requests without fear or trembling. I am blunt in my speech but I trust my treatment of ladies is exactly the reverse.”
The lawyer winked at the President as much as to say that exactly the reverse of blunt would be sharp; but his wife was among the crowd and as she was a lady who laughed easily he felt obliged to keep his countenance of the usual length.
“The ladies, God bless them,” Schwarmer continued in his closing peroration. “They are all angels—all except those that are very strongly tempted to be the reverse.”
The President’s wife laughed this time in spite of her husband’s long drawn face. Several others caught the infection. No knowing where it would have ended had not Mr. Schwarmer sat down suddenly. They knew that their time had come and the thought sobered them.
Mrs. Muelenberg was the first to speak. She said:
“We know you are very kind, Mr. Schwarmer, and we have come to make our confessions and ask you for substantial proofs of your kindness. We all had a hand in the destruction of your property—a free hand, and we are going to tell you why and pay the damages. We are averse to the technicalities, expense and delay of the law, so after we have made our plea—that is, all the plea wecanmake, we trust that you will make out your bill. We have brought our purses and wish to settle the damages on the spot.”
“Damages against the ladies!” gasped Schwarmer, looking with dismay at the purses conspicuously displayed. “My intention is to settle this little matter with the men who had a hand in it. I don’t want any pay for my property, dear ladies. Rest assured I am not that sort of a man. All that I shall insist upon is to have the law respected—the rights of property regarded.”
“And all that we shall insist on, if it goes to the courts, is that the rights of mothers be respected and the lives of their children properly regarded,” said Mrs. Rattlinger. “I am not a lawyer but I am a lawyer’s wife and I think I know about where we should stand in such a case.”
“Of course you do,” replied Schwarmer, “and being a wife and mother, very naturally you would, as one and all thus situated. I shall seeto it that no harm comes to you, rest assured I shall. I have an almost unbounded respect for mothers and a great tenderness for children and would be more than willing to do all I could to prevent them from injury on our natal day, without interfering with its proper enjoyment, most assuredly I would. I am very fond of them all. I lament with ourlamentablePresident that there are not more mothers and more children. There can’t be too many of them to suit me. It takes a great many to keep up the supply, as they are more prone to accidents than grown people, especially on and around our glorious Fourth—for the reason that their little hands and pockets which patriotism requires us to fill with firecrackers, are so much nearer their little eyes than ours are. Most assuredly they are. For these and other reasons of a similar nature, there can’t be too many children born into the world. They make it lively. Truly, ladies, I am a very blunt man and I must say that I think mothers should have many more children than they do have. Yes, a great many more and be happy to do so. Very happy indeed, ladies. There is no sight on earth so perfectly lovely in my estimation as that of a mother surrounded with her children. Completely surrounded I should say—north and south, east and west—surrounded as with a halo, so to speak.”
Schwarmer’s pronunciation ofhalosounded so much likehellothat Sybil Bolt, whose little boyhad lost a finger three years before, in consequence of his Independence Day gift, whispered to the woman who stood next to her:
“Yes a fine hello—young ones with their fingers blown off, eyes blown out, and faces scarred.”
She whispered loud enough to be heard across the room and Schwarmer may or may not have heard her. He continued:
“Don’t be alarmed, my dear ladies. I wouldn’t have the heart to hurt a hair of your heads, nor a hair that belonged to your children. Be assured I shall lay up nothing against you, and I’m not going to be hard with your husbands and lovers either, rest assured I am not. Go in peace.”
He waved his hand as though waving them out; but they did not “follow the wave.”
Mrs. Normander came to the front and gave the list of accidents as Ralph had done at the mass meeting. She also repeated the statement that the list was out of all proportion to that of other towns throughout the state. Then she turned upon him squarely.
This being the case the question was, why it was so? “You know how that question was settled at the meeting, Mr. Schwarmer, and the result.”
“Yes, I know,” said Schwarmer, “that my property was meddled with and I know that accidents occur or are liable to occur all over the country on the Fourth, and we don’t know where they will occur, nor how many will occur at a givenpoint, most assuredly we don’t, and we don’t know just how many occur in our own town. They are not always reported, or made much of. There will be accidents on that day as a matter of course, truly there always have been and must be—it’s an accidental world—full of accident policies—eh, ladies? The Fourth of July wouldn’t be the Fourth without accidents, surely it wouldn’t, would it ladies?”
“Yes it would,” said Mrs. Normander. “We have had one this year—a lovely Fourth. We all enjoyed it—especially the children. They said they had never had such a splendid Independence Day. They had no fireworks and not a single one was hurt. We heard there was quite a serious accident at your place where you had an elaborate pyrotechnic display.”
“O! a small one, ladies, a very small one—truly very small—not worth mentioning, ladies.”
“Not for you,” cried out a voice angrily; “but for the poor mother who lost her child!”
She broke off sobbing. She was the widow whose little boy had died oftetanusa few years before. The ladies all knew it and were visibly affected.
“Beg your pardon, dear woman,” said Schwarmer fussing with his pocket handkerchief. “Beg your pardon, one and all, dear ladies, I meant no harm—no insult to your sex—most assuredly not. I’m all sympathy for any one in a delicate condition and exceedingly sorry for any loss they maysustain and would not do or say anything willingly to aggravate the one or the other. I trust you know I would not. You know also that accidents of that kinddohappen very frequently, and without any fright from pyrotechnics. The only damage that can be truly chargeable to the rocket, was very slight indeed, very—only a matter of a few bundles of straw and an old tumble down shed. It made quite a blaze of course, you know it would ladies, and the excitement may have been the one straw too much for the mother delicately situated but there is no real proof of it—that is, no absolute proof you understand ladies. I mean to say that something else might have happened that would have led to the same disaster—something quite trifling, such as a husband coming in late and slamming the door. To speak bluntly we have all heard of such things bringing on premature difficulties. Truly we have, have we not, my dear ladies?”
“I see, I see, silence gives consent,” continued Mr. Schwarmer quite jauntily, “and I know you have forgiven me any little hand I may have had in the matter—which was very slight indeed, I assure you. The pyrotechnics referred to were under the auspices of a much greater than I—that is pyrotechnically considered. No less a person than the young son of a billionaire friend of mine who has a great taste for pyrotechnics. The piece which caused the premature loss referred to wasdesigned by him. It was very original and powerful—most assuredly it was—almost too powerful for inland display. It would have been truly gorgeous out at sea or off Coney Island or Manhattan Beach. He’s a great genius, the young fellow is, and an aspiring one and needs a great deal of room to display his talents, as all geniuses of any size, invariably do. When he was abroad he was royally entertained by the greatest of living Pyrotechnists, King Pang, whose father was knighted by the queen for doing something splendid. I have forgotten just what it was. By the way, he made a very good pun out of the little accident he had here, after he got back to the city. He said that his ‘Pet Rocket rocked the cradle prematurely’—or attempted to rock it, or something of the kind. I can’t quite remember which; but really it was very good and characteristic also. He always spoke of his creations as though they were live creatures and really they are very lively—very lively indeed, I assure you, ladies.”
“They are fiends in disguise,” exclaimed Ruth rising suddenly and lifting the rim of her hat so he might recognize her without difficulty. She had managed to hide herself from his observation, she hardly knew why. She had a mixed sort of a feeling that she would like to see him let himself entirely out and that he would be more likely to do so if he did not know she were there. She meant to have her say. She had come prepared for it;but she would not say a word until her whole soul was in it and she could hold back no longer. She had brought the spent rocket that had come so near killing or injuring Ralph’s mother. She held it up so everybody could see it plainly.
“Yes,” she went on with righteous indignation. “They are fiends in disguise. Here is one of them, with its pretty red, white and blue wrapping torn off. Look at it one and all. It’s only a rough stick and a lump of lead. It looks dull and harmless now but backed by powder and dynamite it can do terrible execution. Look at it Mr. Schwarmer. It was sent over from the hill on last Fourth and came within a hair breadth of hitting a lady’s shoulder! If it had, it would have laid her arm open to the bone, for it dashed down the whole length of it and buried itself in the ground. What kind of a pun would your City Pyro King have made of that? What does he care for the homes made desolate, the youths that are slain and mutilated, this son of a millionaire, so that he adds more millions to his possessions? What does he care for such misery as I have suffered? Every year for seven years I had to be taken from my home and sent to Canada in order to escape our Independence day horror. Every year since the terrible accident to my little brother. You all know about that. I was only eleven years old then. I did not fully understand what the English officers meant when they said ‘Very sensitiveto foreign foes Americans are, and yet they arm the home foes and ignorant boys with enough powder and dynamite to kill and wound thousands every year.’ ‘A very free country that whose people have to fly to Europe or to us for safety.’ But it dawned on me little by little, year after year. Last year I saw it all. This year I am here, determined to leave no stone unturned to do away with the cruel, barberous idiotic celebration of our national day.
“Think of it, Mr. Schwarmer! How would you feel to have your little innocent brother, or child, frightfully scarred, burned or torn to pieces by fireworks that some careless person had put into his hands? Take it to your heart and conscience. Remember, we do not assume that you are a bad man because you distribute fireworks among the children of this town. We know you don’t think when you give a lot of boys a lot of toy pistols that they are going to kill or injure each other with them. You are just like a great many others. You have been brought up to think it right for boys to celebrate our Independence Day and you don’t stop to think of the new elements of danger which have been, and are constantly being introduced. The firecracker and the torpedo were always dangerous nuisances and should have been done away with long ago for something harmless and more sensible. Instead of that they have been developed into giants and are now manufacturedin enormous quantities—enough to burn up the whole world; and they do burn up millions of dollars worth of property each year.
“Think of it! It’s not only the loss of life that is to be considered but it’s the waste of money. It’s a pity to see it recklessly burned up when we are needing so many things. We need a public library. All we have now are a few old ragged books. We need a public park, where the children can go to fly their kites, look at the gold fishes, listen to the music, smell of the flowers, laugh, play and sing, and be out of the dust and danger of the crowded thoroughfare. We need good roads and bridges. There isn’t a thoroughly good road in town except the speedway, which the corporation helped you build over beyond the hill. The sewers and water works are incomplete. You have about all there are at your place and the towns-people have paid the corporation taxes, although they have been doubled since your coming, without grumbling. Think of all these things, Mr. Schwarmer. Investigate this whole matter for yourself and see if you can’t do something better for us than you have been doing. You have refused to take pay from us for the destruction of your property. We thank you but we do not wish you to think that we did not give our whole strength and influence to the work. What I did was to put it into the head of my husband (that now is) to help me do something at once, to prevent thehorrible burnt sacrifice that would surely take place if your fireworks were distributed here as usual. I could not rest after hearing the English boast as I did last year that a shrewd English Pyro-king had sold millions of dollars worth of fireworks to the American people to burn up on their ‘awfulIndependence Day’ as they called it, and that the demand was so great that he had to send a supply from the London manufactory. You see how it is, Mr. Schwarmer. I have heard and thought about these things through days and nights of suffering and exile on English soil. And now I have to confess that I am the instigator-in-chief of the destruction of your property. You will be kind enough to reckon withmeif you do with anybody. We bid you good day and a God speed in the right direction.”
The ladies withdrew without being waved out.
THE EFFECT OF RUTH’S SPEECH.
Merewords can give but little idea of Ruth’s speech. It was what would be called in military phrase of the “rapid-firing order.” Her pretty brown eyes were ablaze with feeling. Every gesture struck home. The Golden Rule President encouraged her with nods and smiles. Lawyer Rattlinger was amused and interested. The ladies were effected to tears, while Schwarmer turned all sorts of colors—red being the predominant one. His face seemed full to bursting at times; but her final invocation steadied him a little and after the last lady had disappeared, he gasped out:
“Well gentlemen, really and truly! What are we to do about a thing of this kind? I don’t quite understand the ladies. They have such a sort of vascilating way—most assuredly they have.”
“Yes, but there’s where the love comes in,” said the President. He was humming a tune and twitching his ample fingers in a lively way asthough they might be playing on a harp of a thousand strings. Then he sang out:
“O! it’s through thewomen peoplewe shall find the promised rest. The women, God bless them! They know what the town needs if the rest of us don’t, Mr. Schwarmer, and they are going for it. You may as well capitulate—capitulate gracefully and give them a library.”
“And you, Rattlinger, I would like your view of it, most assuredly I would—that is, the legal view.”
“Certainly, you are welcome to my point of view both legal and experimental,” replied Rattlinger. “I should say to begin with that the uprising is too respectable and tee-total to be ignored. Experimentally I know that a woman is the deuce for persistence when she once gets after a thing. I should say that when a whole army of them get on the war-path the library would have to come. Legally considered, you have not given a promissory note, but you have given them promissory words. There’s a point of honor, you see.”
“Well, really, gentlemen, I have always intended to give a library or something of that kind, in the end, you know, but I don’t fancy being forced to do it—prematurely, so to speak; and you can’t blame me forthat, most assuredly you can’t.”
“No! No! Mr. Schwarmer,” sang the President:
“You’re a free untrammeled soulAn undivided atom within a mighty whole.”
“But you’d better divide up with the ladies, Mr. Schwarmer,” laughed Rattlinger, “or you will have to enter the field against them; I don’t believe you want to do that. At least I shouldn’t. I should know that I would have to beat a retreat in the end and I should rather beat a retreat in the beginning while I could do it and save my honor; as the famous French General always did. I would not wait ’til I had a lot of indictments social or otherwise tacked onto my coat-skirts. As I understand it they have quite a number of things laid up against you; and you know the ladies are famous for making things look picturesque.”
The laugh of the President at this remark was so contagious that Schwarmer couldn’t help joining in.
“It’s all over with you, my good man,” said the President, slapping him on the shoulder as he proceeded to put on his hat.
“Thewomen peoplehave pleaded guilty—guilty of doing a good deed and they have won their case according to Lawyer Rattlinger’s opinion. You had better send the library along at once. A little concession of that sort makes everything run as smooth as silk.”
The President and the lawyer went home to tea and Schwarmer returned to the city on the next train. Nothing was heard from him until September first. Then he came on in his rushing way with a surveyor, two architects and half a dozencontractors. The news ran through the town like wild fire that he was really going to begin the long looked for library building. It was to be on the vacant lot where he was born. The house not being of a substantial character had been demolished long ago and the lot itself had been voted a nuisance by the adjacent neighbors; so there were more reasons than one for rejoicing. The ladies were especially delighted.
“Behold the result of your maiden speech!” exclaimed Ralph when he came home with the good news.
“Newly married speech,” laughed Ruth; but as Ralph went on to tell of the large preparations which were being made she shook her pretty head and “hoped Schwarmer would not be so idiotic as to put all his donation into a splendid building and leave nothing for books. A good plain, commodious building is what we want. Not a palatial, monumental thing that will make our homes look like hovels and turn out to be a monument for himself, for us to keep in order.”
“Seneca the Sensible,” were Ralph’s next words, “but, you are right, dear love,” he added, “Schwarmer needs watching. ‘Eternal vigilance’ is the price when you deal with such a man. The corporation is not obliged to accept his library unless it is properly furnished and endowed. I’ll speak to the Golden Rule President about that, at once. Bless your heart for putting it into my head.”
“Who in the world is Dombey bringing us?” exclaimed Ruth as her dog came leaping and frisking up the walk. “He acts as though he had secured a great prize.”
“Millionaire Schwarmer’s daughter as I live,” exclaimed Ralph! “Isn’t it comical though. I never knew before that dogscouldbe obsequious! See that brute trying to smile.”
The girl came on slowly and rather timidly up the long walk, while the dog rushed backward and forward and indulged in all sorts of joyous antics.
“Excuse me for coming,” she said when she got within speaking distance, “but the dog would have it so.”
“Dombey knew you would be welcome,” replied Ruth.
“He met me at the train and followed me all around to every place I went, but when I got to this street he took the lead. I went on but he came after me and cried and took hold of my dress. I guessed what he wanted so I came a little way with him; but when I turned to go back he whined and made such a time of it, that I gave up and came home with him.”
“And now he wants you to come up on the verandah and rest,” laughed Ruth, looking down into the blue eyes. She thought she had never seen any so blue and true looking.
“I will a moment, but I can’t stay. I came upwith father. I wanted to see poor Mary who got scared and lost her baby Fourth of July night.”
“I heard she was better,” said Ruth.
“Father heard so too, and thought I hadn’t better come, but I would come. I know she feels bad about her baby and I want to tell her how sorry I am and how much I blame Mr. Bombs.” The blue eyes filled with tears.
“Fireworks are dangerous things,” said Ruth. She felt her own eyes getting misty and she was wondering if Schwarmer’s daughter knew of their action in regard to the Schwarmer fireworks.
“Yes, they are dangerous,” said Miss Schwarmer, “and they are horrid—all that I have ever seen; and I blame father for ever buying such awful things to give away. I don’t believe he ever will any more. There are so many pretty things to buy.”
“Bless your heart,” said Ruth. “I’m sure he never will if you ask him not to.”
“Ihaveasked him not to and I’ve blamed him. He is going to let me buy things after this, for the children here.”
“O that will be lovely,” exclaimed Ruth—“then we shall see you often shall we not?”
“I wish I could stay here always,” said Miss Schwarmer. “I don’t like to travel but we’re all going over to London with Mr. Bombs. I don’t like him, though heishonest with me. I blame him for not being honest with others. Father sayshe was educated to amuse and mystify the people. Isn’t it horrid to be mystified?”
Ruth assured her it was and then she left with Dombey at her heels.
“Dombey knows,” said Ruth; “and it’s no wonder. She is so good and honest.”
“The wonder is that Mr. Schwarmer should have such a child,” said Ralph, “or Mrs. Schwarmer either from all we hear about her. What a pity that she should be dragged around the world against her will; but she ‘blames’ them and no doubt but they need her blame.”
“And Mr. Bombs, the man that’s been educated to amuse and mystify people. He needs her blame without the shadow of a doubt; and he will end by falling desperately in love with her,” said Ruth. “It came over me like a flash, when she was speaking of him.”
“Then it must be so,” laughed Ralph, “for you have a sample on hand. I hope she will marry him and put him to beneficent uses.”
When Ralph came home to tea he brought another item of news. Some kind of a building was going to be constructed on Schwarmer Hill; and no one as yet had been able to find out what it was to be.
“A Bombs’ mystification, perhaps,” sighed Ruth.
The library building went on very rapidly and by the time the cold weather set in, it was enclosedand ready for inside work. It gave evidence of being a plain, substantial, common sense structure, with nothing showy or monumental about it. Whether it was due to Ruth’s original suggestions, Ralph’s timely action, Lawyer Rattlinger’s shrewdness or President Hartling’s practical ability, was not known. The one thing thatwasknown, however, and made sure of by every taxpayer in town was that it would not be saddled onto them for support. That it was to be an absolutely free gift. That there would be a liberal sum for books and a sufficient sum set aside to keep it in good running order.
The knowledge concerning the building on Schwarmer Hill was not so clear. In fact it was “extremely hazy,” as Lawyer Rattlinger expressed it. And yet there was no seeming of secrecy about the matter. The boss-workman as well as the architect and builders were remarkably unanimous in saying when questioned, that it was to be a sort of amphitheatre for sports and games of various kinds.
“That settles it, or rather unsettles it,” said the President, “for there are various kinds—a large number of them. They are very various and very brutal many of them. Yes, a great many of them all the way down from the Indian LaCrosse game and Fillipino Hurdle races to Jiu-Jitsu—the treacherous Japanese game of ankle and neck-breaking. Even the college sports must bepursued with the old time barbaric violence and virulence. If we send a son to college in these days to cultivate his mental powers, we may expect he will be swept into the rage for physical culture, and wind up by losing an eye or two fingers at the least.”
This was the President’s point of view very decidedly after having had a friend who cultivated his physical powers while in college to that extent; but he was ready to confess that he had not always held such a view. He recalled with regret a time when he had encouraged brutal games by inviting a party of tired young men and women to witness a football game.
“What an idiocy,” he exclaimed, “when there were so many perfectly harmless amusements which I could have taken them to; but I didn’t think about it. I wanted to take them where they wanted to go, instead of wanting to take them where they ought to go and managing to make it pleasant for them.”
“And so there was a Providence in your friend’s hurt after all, you see,” said the minister.
“No, I don’t see it,” replied the President, “else I should have to accuse Providence of hitting the wrong man. I ought to have been the one to have had my eye plucked out or my hand plucked off. For I had been taught the good old Quaker rule, to avoid all games that are gotten up by men, for the purpose of beating each other; I’m going tostand by that rule after this, and I hope Schwarmer can be induced to draw the lines at the dangerous games.”
Ruth hoped so too, but her solicitude was not to be put aside. Every week she would have Ralph go with her to The Hill presumably for a walk, but in reality to see what the huge thing looked like. She feared it was going to be something objectionable and unhelpable.
“It doesn’t matter so much, does it dear, if he keeps it to himself—that is if it doesn’t slop over onto us?”