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The Project Gutenberg EBook of The
Reclaimers, by Margaret Hill McCarter
This eBook is for the use of anyone
anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You ma
copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project
Gutenberg License includedwith this eBook or online at
www.gutenberg.org
Title: The Reclaimers
Author: Margaret Hill McCarter
Release Date: September 30, 2010 [EBook
#33959]
Language: English
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK
THE RECLAIMERS ***
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Produced by Darleen Dove, Roger Frank,
Mary Meehan and the
Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
http://www.pgdp.net
THE
RECLAIMERS
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BY MARGARET
HILL McCARTER
Author of "VANGUARDS OF
THE PLAINS"
HARPER & BROTHERS
PUBLISHERS
NEW YORK AND LONDON
The Reclaimers
Copyright, 1918, by Harper
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& Brothers
Printed in the United Statesof America
Published October, 1918
TO
MAY BELLEVILLE
BROWNCRITIC, COUNSELLOR,
COMFORTER
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CONTENTS
PART I. JERRY
. The Heir Apparent
I. Uncle Cornie's Throw
II. Hitching the Wagon to a Star
V. Between Edens
V. New Eden's ProblemVI. Paradise Lost
PART II. JERRY AND JOE
VII. Unhitching the Wagon from a Star
VIII. If a Man Went Right with Himself
X. If a Woman Went Right with Herself
X. The Snare of the Fowler
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XI. An Interlude in "Eden"
XII. This Side of the Rubicon
PART III. JERRY AND EUGENE—ANDJOE
XIII. How a Good Mother Lives On
XIV. Jim Swaim's WishXV. Drawing Out Leviathan with a Hook
XVI. A Postlude in "Eden"
XVII. The Flesh-pots of the Winnwoc
XVIII. The Lord Hath His Way in th
Storm
XIX. Reclaimed
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THE RECLAIMERS
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I
JERRY
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ndeed, the place was, as Aunt Jerr
Darby declared, "summer and winter, al
shot up by camera-toters and dabbed ove
with canvas-stretchers' paints," much the owner's disgust, to whom all camera
oters and artists, except Cousin Eugen
Wellington, were useless idlers. The
rustic little railway station, hidden bmaple-trees, was only three or four goo
discus-throws from the house. But th
railroad itself very properly dropped fro
view into a wooded valley on either sid
of the station. There was nothing o
cindery ugliness to mar the spot where th
dwellers in "Eden" could take the earlmorning train for the city, or drop off in
he cool of the afternoon into a delightfu
pastoral retreat. Beyond the lawns an
buildings, gardens and orchards, the lan
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read in a thoughtful glance all there was t
know of Mrs. Darby. Her alert air and
busy hands bespoke the habit o
everlasting industry fastened down upoher, no doubt, in a far-off childhood. Sh
was luxurious in her tastes. The sati
gown, the diamond fastening the little cap
o her gray hair, the elegant lace at hehroat and wrists, the flashing jewels o
her thin fingers, all proclaimed a desir
for display and the means wherewith t
pamper it. The rest of her story wa
written on her wrinkled face, where th
strong traits of a self-willed youth wer
deeply graven. Something in the narrowrestless eyes suggested the discontente
over of wealth. The lines of the mout
hinted at selfishness and prejudice. Th
square chin told of a stubborn will, an
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he stern cast of features indicated n
sense of humor whereby the hardest fac
s softened. That Jerusha Darby was rich
ntolerant, determined, unimaginativeself-centered, unforgiving, and unhapp
he student of character might gather at
glance. Where these traits abide a secon
glance is unnecessary.
Outside, the arbor was aglow with earl
June roses; within, the cushioned willow
seats invite to restful enjoyment. BuJerusha Darby was not there for pleasure
While her pearl shuttle darted in and ou
among her fingers like a tiny, iridescen
bird, her mind and tongue were busy witmportant matters.
Opposite to her was her husband
Cornelius. It was only important matter
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hat called him away from his business i
he city at so early an hour in th
afternoon. And it was only on busines
matters that he and his wife ever reallconferred, either in the rose-arbor o
elsewhere. The appealing beauty of th
place indirectly meant nothing to thes
wo owners of all this beauty.
The most to be said of Cornelius Darb
was that he was born the son of a rich ma
and he died the husband of a rich womanHis life, like his face, was colorless. H
fitted into the landscape and his presenc
was never detected. He had no opinions o
his own. His father had given him all thahe needed to think about until he wa
married. "Was married" is well said. He
never courted nor married anybody. H
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was never courted, but he was married b
Jerusha Swaim. But that is all dried stuf
now. Let it be said, however, that not al
he mummies are in Egyptian tombs anSmithsonian Institutions. Some of them si
n banking-houses all day long, and g
discus-throwing in lovely "Edens" on sof
June evenings. And one of them once, jusonce, broke the ancient linen wrapping
from his glazed jaws and spoke. For hal
an hour his voice was heard; and then th
bandages slipped back, and the mumm
was all mummy again. It was Jerry Swai
who wrought that miracle. But then ther
s little in the earth, or the waters undehe earth, that a pretty girl cannot wor
upon.
"You say you have the report on the
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Swaim estate that the Macpherso
Mortgage Company of New Eden, Kansas
s taking care of for us?" Mrs. Darb
asked.
"The complete report. York Macpherson
hasn't left out a detail. Shall I read you hi
description?" her husband replied.
"No, no; don't tell me a thing about it, no
a thing. I don't want to know any mor
about Kansas than I know already. I hathe very name of Kansas. You can
understand why, when you remember m
brother. I've known York Macpherson al
his life, him and his sister Laura, too. Andnever could understand why he went s
far West, nor why he dragged that lame
sister of his out with him to that Sag
Brush country."
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"That's because you won't let me tell yo
anything about the West. But as a matter o
business you ought to understand th
conditions connected with this estate."
"I tell you again I won't listen to it, not on
word. He is employed to look after th
property, not to write about it. None of mfamily ever expects to see it. When we ge
ready to study its value we will give du
notice. Now let the matter of description
ocation, big puffing up of its value—know all that Kansas talk—let all tha
drop here." Jerusha Darby unconsciousl
stamped her foot on the cement floor of th
arbor and struck her thin palm flat upohe broad arm of her chair.
"Very well, Jerusha. If Jerry ever wants to
know anything about its exten
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agricultural value, water-supply, crop
returns, etc., she will find them on file i
my office. The document says that the lan
n the Sage Brush Valley in Kansas inow, with title clear, the property of the
estate of the late Jeremiah Swaim and hi
heirs and assigns forever; that York
Macpherson will, for a very smalconsideration, be the Kansa
representative of the Swaim heirs. That i
all I have to say about it."
"Then listen to me," Mrs. Darb
commanded. And her listener—listened
"Jerry Swaim is Brother Jim and Siste
Lesa's only child. She's been brought up iuxury; never wanted a thing she didn't get
and never earned a penny in her life. Sh
couldn't do it to save her life. If I outliv
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you she will be my heir if I choose t
make my will in her favor. She can b
aken care of without that Kansas propert
of hers. That's enough about the matterWe will drop it right here for other things
There's your cousin Eugene Wellington
coming home again. He's a real artist an
hasn't any property at all."
A ghost of a smile flitted across Mr
Darby's blank face, but Mrs. Darby neve
saw ghosts.
"Of course Jerry and Gene, who hav
been playmates in the same game all thei
ives, will—will—" Mrs. Darbhesitated.
"Will keep on playing the same game,
Cornelius suggested. "If that's all abou
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his business, I'll go and look after th
ily-ponds over yonder, and then take
ittle exercise before dinner. I'm sorry
missed Jerry in the city. She doesn't knowam out here."
"What difference if you did? She an
Eugene will be coming out on the traipretty soon," Mrs. Darby declared.
"She doesn't know he's there, maybe. The
may miss each other," her husbandreplied.
Then he left the arbor and effaced himself
as was his custom, from his wife'
presence, and busied himself with matter
concerning the lily-ponds on the far sid
of the grounds where pink lotuses wer
blooming.
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Meantime Jerusha Darby's fingers fairl
writhed about her tatting-work, as sh
waited impatiently for the sound of th
afternoon train from the city.
"It's time the four-forty was whistlin
round the curve," she murmured. "My gir
will soon be here, unless the train idelayed by that bridge down yonder
Plague on these June rains!"
Mrs. Darby said "my girl" exactly as shwould have said "my bank stock," or "m
farm." Hers was the tone of complet
possession.
"She could have come out in the auto i
half the time, the four-forty creeps so, bu
he roads are dreadfully skiddy after thes
abominable rains," Mrs. Darby continued
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The habit of speaking her thoughts alou
had grown on her, as it often does on thos
advanced in years who live much alone
The little vista of rain-washed meadowand growing grain that lay between tal
ilac-trees was lost to her eyes in th
mpatience of the moment's delay. Wha
Jerusha Darby wanted for Jerusha Darbwas vastly more important to her at an
moment than the abstract value of
general good or a common charm.
As she leaned forward, listening intentl
for the rumble of the train down in th
valley, a great automobile swung throug
he open gateway of "Eden" and roundehe curves of the maple-guarded avenue
bearing down with a birdlike sweep upo
he rose-arbor.
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"Here I am, Aunt Jerry," the driver'
girlish voice called. "Uncle Cornie i
coming out on the train. I beat him to it.
saw the old engine huffing and puffing ahe hill beyond the third crossing of th
Winnowoc. It is bank-full now from th
rains. I stopped on that high fill an
watched the train down below mcreeping out on the trestle above th
creek. When it got across and wen
crawling into the cut on this side I cam
on, too. I had my hands full then makin
his big gun of a car climb that muddy
slippery hill that the railroad cuts through
But I'd rather climb than creep any olday."
"Jerry Swaim," Mrs. Darby cried, starin
up at her niece in amazement, "do yo
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mean to say you drove out alone over tha
sideling, slippery bluff road? But yo
wouldn't be Lesa Swaim's daughter if yo
weren't taking chances. You are youmother's own child, if there ever wa
one."
"Well, I should hope I am, since I've got tbe classified somewhere. I came becaus
wanted to," Jerry declared, with th
finality of complete excuse in her tone. Al
her life what Jerry Swaim had wantewas abundant reason for her having. "I
was dreadfully hot and sticky in the city
and I knew it would be the bottom deep o
mugginess on that crowded Winnoworain. The last time I came out here on it
had to sit beside a dreadful big Dutchma
who had an old hen and chickens in
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basket under his feet. He had ha
Limburger cheese for his dinner and ha
used his whiskers for a napkin to catch th
crumbs. Ugh!" Jerry gave a shiver odisgust at the recollection. "An old lad
behind us had ' sky-atick rheumatiz' an
wouldn't let the windows be opened. I'
rather have any kind of 'rheumatiz' thaLimburger for the same length of time. Th
Winnowoc special ought to carry a parlo
coach from the city and set it off at 'Eden
ike it used to do. The agent let me play i
t whenever I wanted to when I was
youngster. I'm never going to ride on an
rain again unless I go in a Pullman."The girl struck her small gloved fist, like
spoiled child, against the steering-whee
of her luxuriously appointed car, but he
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holding the story of inherited ideas
imited and intensified, and the young fac
unmistakably perpetuated the famil
ikeness, yet Jerry Swaim was a type oher own, not easy to forejudge. In th
shadows of the rose-arbor her hair ripple
back from her forehead in dull-gol
waves. One could picture what thsunshine would do for it. Her big, dark
blue eyes were sometimes dreamy unde
heir long lashes, and sometimes full o
sparkling light. Her whole atmospher
was that of easeful, dependent, city life
yet there was something contrastingl
definite in her low voice, her firm moutand square-cut chin. And beyond
appearances and manner, there wa
something which nobody ever quit
defined, that made it her way to wal
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straight into the hearts of those who knew
her.
"Where were you in the city to-day?" MrsDarby asked, abruptly, looking keenly a
he fair-faced girl much as she would hav
ooked at any other of her goodl
possessions.
"Let me see," Jerry Swaim began
meditatively. "I was shopping quite
while. The stores are gorgeous this June."
"Yes, and what else?" queried the olde
woman.
"Oh, some more shopping. Then I lunchea t La Señorita, that beautiful new tea
house. Every room represents som
nationality in its decoration. I was in th
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"It was a desert-like scene; just yellow
gray plains, with no trees at all. And in th
farther distance the richest purples an
reds of a sunset sky into which the lansort of diffused. No landscape on thi
earth was ever so yellow-gray, or an
sunset ever so like the Book o
Revelation, nor any horizon-line so widand far away. It was the hyperbole of
freakish imagination. And yet, Aunt Jerry
here was a romantic lure in the thing
somehow."
Jerry Swaim's face was grave as sh
gazed with wide, unseeing eyes at th
vista of fresh June meadows from whiche odor of red clover, pulsing in on th
cool west breeze of the late afternoon
mingled with the odor of whit
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honeysuckle that twined among th
climbing rose-vines above her.
"Humph! What else?" Aunt Jerry sniffed disapproval of unpleasant landscapes i
general and alluring romances i
particular. Love of romance was not in he
mental make-up, any more than love of art
"I went over to Uncle Cornie's bank to tel
him to take care of my shopping-bills. H
wasn't in just then and I didn't wait fohim. By the way"—Jerry Swaim was no
dreamy now—"since all the lega
itigations and things are over, oughtn't
begin to manage my own affairs and livon my own income?"
Sitting there in the shelter of blossomin
vines, the girl seemed far too dainty
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creature, too lacking in experience
nitiative, or ability, to manage anythin
more trying than a big allowance of pin
money. And yet, something in her smallfirm hands, something in the lines of he
well-formed chin, put the doubt into an
forecast of what Geraldine Swaim migh
do when she chose to act.
Aunt Jerry wrapped the lacy tatting stuf
she had been making around the pear
shuttle and, putting both away in thJapanese work-basket, carefully snappe
down the lid.
"When Jerusha Darby quits work to talt's time for me to put on my skid-chains,
Jerry said to herself as she watched th
procedure.
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"Jerry, do you know why I called you you
mother's own child just now?" Mrs. Darb
asked, gravely.
"From habit, maybe, you have said it s
often." Jerry's smile took away an
suggestion of pertness. "I know I am lik
her in some ways."
"Yes, but not altogether," the older woman
continued. "Lesa Swaim was a strang
combination. She was made to spenmoney, with no idea of how to get money
And she brought you up the same way
And now you are grown, boarding-schoo
finished, and of age, you can't alter youbringing up any more than you can chang
your big eyes that are just like Lesa's, no
your chin that you inherited from Brothe
Jim. I might as well try to give you littl
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black eyes and a receding chin as to try t
reshape your ways now. You are as the
Lord made you, and Providence molde
you, and your mother spoiled you."
"Well, I don't want to be anything
different. I'm happy as I am."
"You won't need to be, unless you choose
But being twenty-one doesn't make you to
old to listen to me—and your uncl
Cornie."
n all her life Jerry had never before hear
her uncle's name brought in as co-partne
of Jerusha Darby's in any opinion
authority, or advice. It was an unfortunat
slip of the tongue for Uncle Cornie's wife
one of those simple phrases that, droppe
at the right spot, take root and grow an
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bear big fruit, whether of sweet or bitte
aste.
"Your mother was a dreamer, a lover oromance, and all sorts of adventures
although she never had a chance to get int
any of them. That's why you went skiddin
on that sideling bluff road to-day; that anhe fact that she brought you up to hav
your own way about everything. But, as
say, we can't change that now, and there'
no need to if we could. Lesa was a prettwoman, but you look like the Swaims
except right across here."
Aunt Jerry drew her bony finger across thgirl's brows, unwilling to concede any o
he family likeness that could possibly b
retained. She could not see the gleam o
mischief lurking under the downcas
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eyelashes of Lesa Swaim's own child.
"Your father was a good business man
evel-headed, shrewd, and honest"—MrsDarby spoke rapidly now—"but thing
happened in the last years of his life. You
mother took pneumonia and died, and yo
went away to boarding-school. Jim'business was considerably involved.
needn't bother to tell you about that. I
doesn't matter now, anyhow. And then one
night he didn't come home, and the nexmorning your uncle found him sitting in hi
office, just as he had left him the evenin
before. He had been dead several hours
Heart failure was what the doctor saidbut I reckon everybody goes of hear
failure sooner or later."
A bright, hard glow came into Jerr
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Swaim's eyes and the red lips were griml
pressed together. In the two years sinc
he loss of her parents the girl had neve
ried to pray. As time went on the lighspirit of youth had come back, bu
something went out of her life on the da
of her father's death, leaving a loss agains
which she stubbornly rebelled.
"To be plain, Jerry," Mrs. Darby hurried
on, "you have your inheritance all cleare
up at last, after two whole years of legarouble."
"Oh, it hasn't really bothered me," Jerr
declared, with seeming flippancy. "Jussigning my name where somebody pointe
o a blank line, and holding up my righ
hand to be sworn—that's all. I've writte
my full name and promised that the writin
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was mine, 's'welp me Gawd,' as the court
house man used to say, till I could do
either one under the influence of ether
othing really bothersome about it, but I'glad it's over. Business is so tiresome."
"It's not so large a fortune, by a good deal
as it would have been if your father haistened to me." Mrs. Darby spok
vaguely. "But you will be amply provided
for, anyhow, unless you yourself choose to
rifle with your best interest. You and I arhe only Swaims living now. Some day, i
choose, I can will all my property t
you."
The square-cut chin and the deep line
around the stern mouth told plainly tha
obedience to this woman's wishes alon
could make a beneficiary to that will.
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"You may be a dreamer, and love to go
romancing around into new scrapes lik
your mother would have done if she could
But she was as soft-hearted as could bewith all that. That's why she never denie
you anything you wanted. She couldn't d
a thing with money, though, as I said
except spend it. You are a good deal likeyour father, too, Jerry, and you'll value
property some day as the only thing o
earth that can make life anything but a har
grind. If you don't want to be like tha
bunch of everlasting grubs that ride on th
Winnowoc train every afternoon, or th
poor country folks around here that neveride in anything but a rickety old farm
wagon, you'll appreciate what I—an
Uncle Cornie—can do for you."
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Uncle Cornie again, and he never ha
shared in any equal consideration before
t was a mistake.
"There's the four-forty whistling for th
curve at last. It's time it was coming.
must go in and see that dinner is just righ
You run down and meet it. Cousin Eugenes coming out on it. Your uncle Cornie i
here on the place somewhere. He cam
out after lunch on some business we had t
fix up. No wonder you missed him. BuJerry"—the stern-faced woman put a han
on the girl's shoulder with more o
command than caress in the gestur
—"Eugene is a real artist with genius, yoknow."
"Yes, I know," Jerry replied, a sudden
change coming into her tone. "What o
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hat?"
"You've always known him. You like him
very much?" Jerusha Darby was aawkward in sentiment as she was shrew
n a bargain.
The bloom on the girl's cheek deepened a
she looked away toward the brilliantl
green meadows across which the low su
was sending rays of golden light.
"Oh, I like him as much as he likes me, n
doubt. I'll go down to the station and loo
him over, if you say so."
Beneath the words lay something deepehan speech—something new even to th
girl herself.
As Jerry left the arbor Mrs. Darby said
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with something half playful, half final, i
her tone: "You won't forget what I've said
about property, you little spendthrift. You
will be sensible, like my sensiblbrother's child, even if you are a
dealizing as your sentimental mother."
"I'll not forget. I couldn't and be JerrDarby's niece," the last added after th
girl was safely out of her aunt's hearing
"My father and mother both had lots o
good traits, it seems, and a few poor onesseem to be really heir to all the fault
bents of theirs, and to have lost out on al
he good ones. But I can't help that now
ot till after the train gets in, anyhow."
Her aunt watched her till the shrubber
hid her at a turn in the walk. Young, full o
ife, dainty as the June blossoms tha
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showered her pathway with petals,
spoiled, luxury-loving child, with a
adventurous spirit and a blunted an
undeveloped notion of human service andivine heritage, but with a latent capacit
and an untrained power for doing things
hat was Jerry Swaim—whom the wind
of heaven must not visit too roughlwithout being accountable to Mrs. Jerush
Darby, owner and manager of the univers
for her niece.
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II
UNCLE CORNIE'S THROW
Jerry was waiting at the cool end of thrustic station when the train came in. How
hot and stuffy it seemed to her as it puffe
out of the valley, and how tired and cros
all the bunch of grubs who stared out ohe window at her. It made them ten time
more tired and cross and hot to see tha
girl looking so cool and rested an
exquisitely gowned and crowned an
shod. The blue linen with whit
embroidered cuffs, the rippling, glintin
masses of hair, the small shoes
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mmaculately white against the green so
—little wonder that, while the hei
apparent to the Darby wealth fel
comfortably indifferent toward thiuninteresting line of nobodies i
particular, the bunch of grubs should fee
only envy and resentment of their ow
sweaty, muscle-worn lot in life.
Jerry and Eugene Wellington were far up
he shrubbery walk by the time th
Winnowoc train was on its way againunconscious that the passengers wer
ooking after them, or that the talk, as th
rain slowly got under way, was all o
"that rich old codger of a Darby and hiselfish old wife"; of "that young dud
artist, old Wellington's kid, too lazy to
work"; of "that pretty, frivolous girl who
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didn't know how to comb her own hair
Jim Swaim's girl—poor Jim!" "Old Cor
Darby was looking yellow and thin, too
He would dry up and blow away somday if his money wasn't weighting hi
down so he couldn't."
At the bend in the walk, the two younpeople saw Uncle Cornie crossing th
awn.
"Going to get his discus. He'll have nappetite for dinner unless he gets in a few
dozen slings," the young man declared
"Let's turn in here at the sign of the roses
Jerry. I'm too lazy to take another step."
"You should have come out with me in the
car," Jerry replied as they sat down in th
cool arbor made for youth and June-time
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"I didn't know you were in the city."
"Well, little cousin girl, I'll confess
didn't dare," the young man declaredboldly. "I've been studying awfully hard
his year, and, now I'm needed to pain
The Great American Canvas, I can't end
my useful career under a big touring-car ahe bottom of an embankment out on th
Winnowoc bluff road. So when I saw yo
coming into Uncle Cornie's office in th
bank I slipped away."
"And as to my own risk?" Jerry asked.
"Oh, Jerry Swaim, you would never hav
an accident in a hundred years. There'
nobody like you, little cousin mine
nobody at all."
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Eugene Wellington put one well-formed
hand lightly on the small white hand lyin
on the wicker chair-arm, and, leanin
forward, he looked down into the face ohe girl beside him. A handsome, well-se
up, artistic young fellow he was, fitted t
adorn life's ornamental places. And if
faint line of possible indecision ocharacter might have suggested itself t
he keen-eyed reader of faces, other trait
outweighed its possibility. For his was
fine face, with a sort of graciou
gentleness in it that grows with the artist'
growth. A hint of deeper spirituality, too
hat marks nobility of character, added toa winning personality, put Eugen
Wellington above the common class. He
fitted the rose-arbor, in "Eden" and th
comradeship of good breeding. When
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"Heir to what?" the young artist inquired
a faint, shadowy something sweeping hi
countenance fleetly.
"To all the sphere,
To the seven stars and the
solar year;
also to my father's entire estate that's lef
after some two years of litigation. I hat
itigations."
"So do I, Jerry. Let's forget them. Isn
Eden' beautiful? I'm so glad to be bac
here again." Eugene Wellington looked ou
at the idyllic loveliness of the place whic
he rose-arbor was built especially t
command. "Nobody could sin here, fo
here are no serpents busy-bodying aroun
n such a dream of a landscape as this. I'
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glad I'm an artist, if I never becom
famous. There's such a joy in being able t
see, even if your brush fails miserably i
rying to make others see."
Again the man's shapely hand fell gentl
on the girl's hand, and this time it staye
here.
"You love it all as much as I do, don't you
Jerry?" The voice was deep with emotion
"And you feel as I do, how this lifts onnearer to God. Or is it because you ar
here with me that 'Eden' is so fair to
night? May I tell you something, Jerry
Something I've waited for the summer anEden' to give me the hour and the place t
say? We've always known each other. We
hought we did before, but a new knowin
came to me the day your father left us
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Look up, little cousin. I want to sa
something to you."
June-time, and youth, and roses, and sofsweet air, and nobody there but blossoms
and whispering breezes, and these two
And they had known each other always
Oh, always! But now—something wadifferent now, something that was grander
more beautiful in this place, in this day, i
each other, than had ever been before—
he old, old miracle of a man and a maid.
Suddenly something whizzed through th
air and a snakelike streak of shadow cu
he light of the doorway. Out in the openUncle Cornie came slowly stepping off th
space to where his discus lay beside th
rose-arbor—one of the good little snakes
Every Eden has them, and some are muc
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better than others.
The discus-ground was out on a lovel
stretch of shorn clover sod. Why thdiscus should wander from the thrower'
hand through the air toward the rose-arbo
no wind of heaven could tell. Nor could i
ell why Uncle Cornie should choose tfollow it and stand in the doorway of th
arbor until the "Eden" dinner-hour calle
all three of the dwellers, Adam and Ev
and this good little snake, to the coodining-room and what goes with it.
Twilight and moonlight were melting into
one, and all the sweet odors of dewkissed blossoms, the good-night twitter o
homing birds, the mists rising above th
Winnowoc Valley, the shadows o
shrubbery on the lawn, and the darklin
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outline of the tall maples made "Eden" a
beautiful now as in the full sunlight.
Jerry Swaim sat in the doorway of throse-arbor, watching Uncle Corni
hrowing his discus again along th
smooth white clover sod. Aunt Jerry had
railed off with Eugene to the far side ohe spacious grounds to see the lily-pond
where the pink lotuses were blooming.
"Young folks mustn't be together too muchThey'll get tired of each other too quickly
used to get bored to death havin
Cornelius forever around." Aunt Jerr
philosophized, considering herself awise in the affairs of the heart as she wa
shrewd in affairs of the pocketbook. Sh
would make Jerry and Gene want to b
ogether before they had the chance again.
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So Jerry Swaim sat alone, watching th
ights and shadows on the lawn, only hal
conscious of Uncle Cornie's presence ou
here, until he suddenly followed hidiscus as it rolled toward the arbor an
ay flat at her feet. Instead of picking it up
he dropped down on the stone step besid
his niece and sat without speaking untiJerry forgot his presence entirely. It wa
his custom to sit without speaking, and t
be forgotten.
Jerry's mind was full of many things. Lif
had opened a new door to her tha
afternoon, and something strange an
sweet had suddenly come through it. Lifhad always opened pleasant doors to her
save that one through which her father an
mother had slipped away—a door tha
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closed and shut her from them and God
whose Providence had robbed her s
cruelly of what was her own. But no doo
ever showed her as fair a vista as the onnow opening before her dreamy gaze.
She glanced unseeingly at the old ma
sitting beside her. Then across hememory Aunt Jerry's words came drifting
"Being twenty-one doesn't make you to
old to listen to me—and your uncl
Cornie," and, "You'll appreciate what I—and Uncle Cornie—can do for you."
Uncle Cornie was looking at her with
face as expressionless as if he were abouo say, "The bank doesn't make loans o
any such security," yet something in hi
eyes drew her comfortably to him and sh
mechanically put her shapely little hand o
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his thin yellow one.
"I want to talk to you before anythin
happens, Jerry," he began, and thepaused, in a confused uncertainty tha
hreatened to end his wanting here.
And Jerry, being a woman, divined in an
nstant that it was to talk to her befor
anything happened that he had thrown tha
discus out of its way when she and Gen
had thought themselves alone in the arbobefore dinner. It was to talk to her that th
hing had been rolled purposely to her fee
now. Queer Uncle Cornie!
"I'm not too old to listen to you.
appreciate what you can do for me." Jerr
was quoting her aunt's admonition
exactly, which showed how deeply the
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had unconsciously impressed themselve
on her mind. Her words broke the line
bands about Uncle Cornie's glazed jaws
and he spoke.
"Your estate is all settled now. What's lef
o you after that rascally John—I mea
after two years of pulling and haulinhrough the courts, is a 'claim,' as they cal
t, in the Sage Brush Valley in Kansas. I
has never been managed well, somehow
There's not been a cent of income from isince Jim Swaim got hold of it, but that'
no fault of the man who is looking after i
—a York Macpherson. He's a gentleman
you can trust anywhere. That's all there iof your own from your father's estate."
Jerry Swaim's dark-blue eyes opene
wide and her face was lily white under th
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shadow of dull-gold hair above it.
"You are dependent on your aunt fo
everything. Well, she's glad of that. So am, in a way. Only, if you go against he
will you won't be her heir any more. You
mightn't be, anyhow, if she—went first
The Darby estate isn't really JerushSwaim's; it's mine. But she thinks it's her
and it's all right that way, because, in th
end, I do control it." Uncle Cornie paused
Jerry sat motionless, and, although it wa
June-time, the little white hand on th
speaker's thin yellow one was very cold.
"If you are satisfied, I'm glad, but I won
et Jim Swaim's child think she's got
fortune of her own when she hasn't got
cent and must depend on the good-will o
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her relatives for everything she wants. Ji
would haunt me to my grave if I did."
Jerry stared at her uncle's face in thdarkening twilight. In all her life she ha
never known him to seem to have an
mind before except what grooved in wit
Aunt Jerry's commanding mind. Yetsurprised as she was, she involuntaril
drew nearer to him as to one whom sh
could trust.
"We agreed long ago, Jim and I did, when
Jim was a rich man, that some day yo
must be shown that you were his child a
well as Lesa's—I mean that you mustnalways be a dependent spender. You mus
get some Swaim notions of living, too
ot that either of us ever criticized you
mother's sweet spirit and her ideal
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building and love of adventure. Romanc
belongs to some lives and keeps the
young and sweet if they live to be
million. I'm not down on it like your AunJerry is."
Romance had steered wide away fro
Cornelius Darby's colorless days. Andpossibly only this once in the swee
stillness of the June twilight at "Eden" di
hat hungering note ever sound in hi
voice, and then only for a brief space.
"Jim would have told you all this himsel
f he had got his affairs untangled in time
And he'd have done that, for he had a bibrain and a big heart, but God went an
ook him. He did. Don't rebel always
Jerry. God was good to him—you'll see i
some day and quit your ugly doubting."
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Who ever called anything ugly about Jerr
Swaim before? That a creature lik
Cornelius Darby should do it now wa
one of the strange, unbelievable things ohis world.
"I just wanted to say again," Uncle Corni
continued, "if I go first you'd be Jerusha'heir. We agreed to that long ago. That is
f you don't cross her wishes and start he
o make a will against you, as she'd do i
you didn't obey her to the last letter in thalphabet. If I go after she does, th
property all goes by law to distan
relatives of mine. That was fixed before
ever got hold of it—heirs of somspendthrifts who would have wasted i
ong ago if they'd lived and had i
hemselves."
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The sound of voices and Eugen
Wellington's light laughter came faintly
from the lily-pond.
"Eugene is a good fellow," Uncle Corni
said, meditatively. "He's got real talen
and he'll make a name for himself som
day that will be stronger, and do morgood, and last longer than the man's nam
hat's just rated gilt-edged security on
note, and nowhere else. Gene will make
decent living, too, independent of anaunts and uncles. But he's no stronger
willed, nor smarter, nor better than yo
are, Jerry, even if he is a bit mor
religious-minded, as you might say. Youry awfully hard to think you don't believ
n anything because just once in your lif
Providence didn't work your way. You
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can't fool with your own opinions agains
God Almighty and not lose in the deal
You'll have to learn that some time. All o
us do, sooner or later."
"But to take my father—all I had—after
had given up mother, I can't see any justic
nor any mercy in it," Jerry broke out.
Uncle Cornie was no comforter wit
words. He had had no chance to practis
giving sympathy either before or aftemarriage. Mummies are limited, whethe
hey be in sealed sarcophagi or sit behin
roller-top desks and cut coupons
Something in his quiet presence, howeversoothed the girl's rebellious spirit mor
han words could have done. Corneliu
Darby did not know that he could com
nearer to the true measurement of Jerry'
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mind than any one else had ever done
People had pitied her when her mothe
passed away and her father died
bankrupt—which last fact she must not bold—but nobody understood her excep
Uncle Cornie, and he had never said
word until now. He seemed to know now
ust how her mind was running. Thwisdom of the serpent—even the goo
ittle snakes, of this "Eden"—is not to b
misjudged.
"Jerry"—the old man's voice had a strang
gentleness in that hour, however flat and
dry it was before and afterward—"Jerry
you understand about things here."
He waved his hand as if to take in "Eden,
Aunt Jerry and Cousin Eugene strollin
eisurely away from the lily-pond
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himself, the Darby heritage, and th
unprofitable Swaim estate in the Sag
Brush Valley in far-away Kansas.
"You've never been crossed in your life
except when death took Jim. You don'
know a thing about business, nor what i
means to earn the money you spend, and tfeel the independence that comes fro
being so strong in yourself you don't hav
o submit to anybody's will." Corneliu
Darby spoke as one who had dreamed ohese things, but had never known th
strength of their reality. "And last of all,
he concluded, "you think you are in lov
with Eugene Wellington."
Jerry gave a start. Uncle Cornie and love
Anybody and love! Only in her day
dreams, her wild flights of adventure, up
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o castles builded high in air, had sh
really thought of love for herself—unti
o-day. And now—Aunt Jerry had hinted
awkwardly enough here in the latafternoon of what was on her mind
Cousin Gene had held her hand and said
"I want to say something to you." How ful
of light his eyes had been as he looked aher then! Jerry felt them on her still, and
ingle of joy went pulsing through he
whole being. Then the discus had hurtle
across the doorway and Uncle Cornie ha
come, not knowing that these two woul
rather be alone. At least he didn't look a
f he knew. And now it was Uncle Corniehimself who was talking of love.
"You think you are in love with Eugene
Wellington," Uncle Cornie repeated, "bu
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you're not, Jerry. You're only in love with
Love. Some day it may be with Gene, bu
t's not now. He just comes nearer to wha
you've been dreaming about, and so yohink you are in love with him. Jerry,
don't want you to make any mistakes. I'v
ived a sort of colorless life"—the man'
face was ashy gray as he spoke—"buonce in a while I've thought of what migh
be in a man's days if things went right wit
him and if he went right with himself."
How often the last words came back t
Jerry Swaim when she recalled the event
of this evening—"if he went righ
himself."
"And I don't want any mistakes made that
can help."
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Uncle Cornie's other hand closed gentl
about the little hand that lay on one of his
How firm and white and shapely it was
and how determined and fearless the gript could put on the steering-wheel whe
he big Darby car skidded dangerously
And how flat and flabby and yellow an
characterless was the hand that held iclose!
"Come on, folks, we are going to th
house to have some music," Aunt Jerrcalled, as she and Eugene Wellington
came across the lawn from the lily-pond.
Mrs. Darby, sure of the fruition of heplans now, was really becoming pettishl
ealous to-night. A little longer she wante
o hold these two young people under he
absolute dominion. Of course she woul
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always control them, but when they wer
promised to each other there would aris
a kingdom within a kingdom which sh
could never enter. The angry voice of warped, misused, and withered youth wa
n her soul, and the jealousy of loveles
old age was no little fox among her vine
o-night. Let them wait on her a littlwhile. One evening more wouldn't matter
As the two approached the rose-arbo
Jerry's hand touched Uncle Cornie's cheen a loving caress—the first she had eve
given him.
"I won't forget what you have said, UnclCornie," she murmured, softly, as she ros
o join her aunt and Eugene.
The moonlight flooding the lawn touche
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Jerry's golden hair, and the bloom of lov
and youth beautified her cheeks, as sh
walked away beside the handsome youn
artist into the beauty of the June night.
"Come on, Cornelius." Mrs. Darby's voic
put the one harsh note into the harmony o
he moment.
"As soon as I put away my discus. Tha
ast throw was an awkward one, and a lo
out of line for me," he answered, in hidry, flat voice, stooping to pick up th
mplement of his daily pastime.
Up in the big parlor, Eugene and Jerr
played the old duets they had learne
ogether in their childhood, and sang th
old songs that Jerusha Darby had hear
when she was a girl, before the lust fo
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wealth had hardened her arteries an
dimmed her eyes to visions that come onl
o bless. But the two young people forgo
her presence and seemed to live the hourof the beautiful June night only for eac
other.
t was nearly midnight when a peal ohunder boomed up the Winnowoc Valley
and the end of a perfect day was brillian
n the grandeur of a June shower, wit
skies of midnight blackness clovehrough with long shafts of lightning o
swept across by billows of flame, whil
he storm wind's strong arms beat the eart
with flails of crystal rain.
"Where is Uncle Cornie? I hadn't misse
him before," Jerry asked as the three in th
parlor watched the storm pouring out al
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ts wrath upon the Winnowoc Valley.
"Oh, he went to put up his old discus, an
hen he went off to bed I suppose," AunJerry replied, indifferently.
othing was ever farther from his wife'
hought than the presence of Corneliu
Darby. The two had never lived for eac
other; they had lived for the accumulatio
of property that together they might gathe
n.
t was long after midnight before th
family retired. The moon came out o
hiding as the storm-cloud swept eastward
The night breezes were cool and sweet
scattering the flower petals, that th
shower had beaten off, in little perfum
cloudlets about the rose-arbor and upo
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ts stone door-step.
t was long after Jerry Swaim had gone t
her room before she slept. Over and ovehe events of the day passed in review
before her mind: the city shopping; th
dainty lunch in the Delft room at L
Señorita; the art exhibit and that one levegray landscape with the flaming, gorgeou
sunset so unlike the green-and-gold sunse
andscape of "Eden"; the homeward rid
with all its dangerous thrills; the talk witAunt Jerry; Eugene, Eugene, Eugene
Uncle Cornie with his discus, at the doo
of the rose-arbor, and all that he had said
o her; the old, old songs, and the thunderstorm's tremendous beauty, and Uncl
Cornie again—and dreams at last, and Ji
Swaim, big, strong, shrewd; and Lesa
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sweet-faced, visionary; and then soun
slumber bringing complete oblivion.
Last to sleep and first to waken in thearly morning was Jerry. Happy Jerry
obody as happy as she was could slee
—and yet—Uncle Cornie's last discus
hrow had brought new thoughts thawould not slip away as the storm ha
slipped up the Winnowoc into nowhere. A
rift in the lute, a cloud speck in a blu
June sky, was the memory of what UnclCornie had told her when he let his discu
roll up to her very feet by the door of th
rose-arbor. Jerry Swaim must not b
roubled with lute rifts and cloud specksThe call of the early morning was in th
air, the dewy, misty, rose-hued dawning o
a beautiful day in a beautiful "Eden
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where only beautiful things belong. And
oveliest among them all was Jerry Swai
n her pink morning dress, her gloriou
crown of hair agleam in the sun's earlrays, her blue eye full of light.
The sweetest spot to her in all "Eden" o
his morning was the rose-arbor. Ibelonged to her now by right of Eugen
and—Uncle Cornie. The snatches of a
old love-ballad, one of the songs she ha
sung with Eugene the night before, weron her lips as she left the veranda an
passed with light step down the lilac wal
oward the arbor. The very grass blade
seemed to sing with her, and all the rainwashed world glowed with green an
gold and creamy white, pink an
heliotrope and rose.
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At the turn of the walk toward the arbo
Jerry paused to drink in the richness of al
his colorful scene. And then, for no
reason at all, she remembered what UnclCornie had said about his colorless life
Strange that she had never, in her ow
frivolous existence, thought of him in tha
way before. But with the alchemy of lovn her veins she began to see things in
new light. His had been a dull existence. I
Aunt Jerry ever really loved him she mus
have forgotten it long ago. And he made s
ittle noise in the world, anyhow, it wa
easy to forget that he was in it. She ha
forgotten him last night even after all thahe had said. He had had no part in thei
music, nor the beauty of the storm.
But here he was up early and sitting at th
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doorway of the rose-arbor just as she ha
eft him last night. He was leaning back i
he angle of the slightly splintered trellis
his colorless face gray, save where a bluine ran down his cheek from a blue-blac
burn on his temple, his colorless eye
ooking straight before him; the discus h
had stooped to pick up in the twilight lasnight clasped in his colorless hands; hi
colorless life race run. His clothing
soaked by the midnight storm, clung we
and sagging about his shrunken form. Bu
he rain-beaten rose-vines had showere
his gray head with a halo of pink petals
and about his feet were drifts of falleblossoms flowing out upon the rich gree
sod. Nature in loving pity had gentl
decked him with her daintiest hues, as if
world of lavish color would wipe away i
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a sweep of June-time beauty the memor
of the lost drab years.
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III
HITCHING THE WAGON
TO A STAR
Behind the most expensive mourner'
crape to be had in Philadelphia Jerush
Darby hid the least mournful of faces. No
hat she had not been shocked that one bol
out of all that summer storm-cloud, barel
splintering the rose-arbor, should strik
he head leaning against it with a blow sfaint and yet so fatal; nor that she woul
not miss Cornelius and find it ver
nconvenient to fill his place in he
business management. Every busines
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needs some one to fetch and carry an
play the watch-dog. And in these days o
expensive labor watch-dogs come hig
and are not always well trained. Bueverybody must go sometime. That is
everybody else. To Mrs. Darby's cast o
mind the scheme of death and fina
reckoning as belonging to a generaexperience was never intended for he
ndividually. After all, things work out al
right under Providential guidance. Eugen
Wellington was a fortunate provision o
an all-wise Providence. Eugene had som
of his late cousin's ability. He would
come in time to fill the vacant chair by throll-top desk in the city banking an
business house. Moreover, to the eyes o
age he was a thousandfold mor
nteresting and resourceful than th
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colorless quiet one whose loss would b
felt of course, of course.
The reddest roses of "Eden" bloomed thnext June on Cornelius Darby's grave, th
brightest leaves of autumn covered hi
warmly from the winter's snows, and th
places that had never felt his livinpresence missed him no more forever.
There was a steady downpour of summe
rain on the day following the funeral a"Eden." Mrs. Darby was very busy wit
post-mortem details and Eugen
Wellington's services were in constan
demand by her, while Jerry Swaiwandered aimlessly about the house wit
a sense of the uselessness of her existenc
forcing itself upon her for the first time
Late in the afternoon, when the big room
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under the seat and spread it out on th
broad arm of her chair. As she read it
contents her listlessness fell away, th
dreamy blue eyes glowed with a newight, the firm mouth took on a bit more o
firmness, and the strong little hand
holding the paper did not tremble.
"A claim in the Sage Brush Valley in
Kansas." Jerry spoke slowly. "It lies i
Range—Township—Oh, that's all Greek
o me! They must number land out therike lots in the potter's-field corner of th
cemetery that we drove by yesterday
Maybe they may all be dead ones, pauper
at that, in Kansas. It is controlled, osomething, by York Macpherson of the
Macpherson Mortgage Company of New
Eden— New Eden —Kansas. Uncle Corni
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old me it hadn't brought any income, bu
hat wasn't York Macpherson's fault
Strange that I remember all that Uncl
Cornie said here the other night."
The girl read the document spread ou
before her a second time. When she lifte
her face again it was another Jerry Swaiwho looked out through the dark-blu
eyes. The rain had ceased falling. A coo
breeze was playing up the Winnowo
Valley, and low in the west shafts osunlight were piercing the thinning gra
clouds.
"Twelve hundred acres! A prince'sholdings! Why 'Eden' has only tw
hundred! And that is at New Eden. I
hasn't been well managed.' I know who'
going to manage it now. I'm the daughte
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of Jim Swaim. He was a good busines
man. And Aunt Darby—" A smile broke
he set line about the red lips. "I'd neve
dare to say she didn't understand how tmanage things, Chief of Staff to th
General who runs the Universe, she is."
Then the serious mood came back as thgirl stared out at the meadows an
growing grain of the "Eden" farmland. A
sudden resolve had formed in her mind—
Jerry Swaim the type all her own, nopossible to forecast.
"Father wanted me to know what it mean
o be independent. I'll find out. If thiEden' can be so beautiful and profitable
what can I not make out of twelve hundre
acres, in a New Eden? And it will be suc
a splendid lark, just the kind of thing
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have always dreamed of doing. Aunt Jerr
will say that I'm crazy, or that I'm Les
Swaim's own child. Well, I am, but there'
a big purpose back of it all, too, thpurpose my father would have approved
He was all business—all money-makin
—in his purposes, it seemed to som
folks, but I think mother knew how to keephim sweet. Maybe her adventurous spirit
and all that, kept her interesting to him
and her romancing kept him her lover
nstead of their growing to be like Uncl
Cornie and Aunt Jerry. There's something
else in the world besides just gettin
property—'if a man went right withimself,' Uncle Cornie said. There was
good sermon in those seven words. Uncl
Cornie preached more to me than the ma
who officiated at the funeral yesterda
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could ever do. 'If a man went right wit
himself.' And Eugene." A quick change
swept Jerry Swaim's countenance. "H
said he wanted to say something to me. hink I know what he wanted to say
Maybe he will say it some day, but no
yet, not yet. Here he comes now."
There was a something new, unguessable
and very sweet in Jerry Swaim's face a
Eugene Wellington came striding down
he walk to the rose-arbor.
"I'm through at last, little cousin," h
declared, dropping into a seat beside her
"Really, Aunt Jerry is a wonderfuwoman. She seems to know most of th
details of Uncle Cornie's business sinc
he began in business. But now and the
she runs against something that takes he
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breath away. Evidently Uncle Corni
knew a lot of things he didn't tell her o
anybody else. She doesn't like to mee
hese things. It makes her cross. She senme away just now in a huff because sh
was opening up a new line that I think sh
didn't want me to know anything about
Something that took her breath away afirst glance. But she didn't have to coa
me off the place. I ran out here when th
chance came."
How handsome and well-groomed he wa
sitting there in the easy willow seat! And
how good he had been to Mrs. Darby i
hese trying days! A dozen little servicehat her niece had overlooked had com
naturally to his hand and mind.
The words of Uncle Cornie came int
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Jerry Swaim's mind as she looked at him
"He's a good fellow, with real talent, and
he'll make a name for himself some day
He'll make a decent living, toondependent of anybody's aunts an
uncles, but he's no stronger-willed no
smarter nor better than you are." A thril
of pleasure quickened her pulse at threcollection, making this new decision o
hers the more firm.
"It has seemed like a month since we sahere the evening before Uncle Corni
passed away," Eugene began. "He made
bad discus-throw and came over here jus
as I began to tell you something, Jerry. Doyou remember what we were saying whe
he appeared on the scene?"
"Yes, I remember." Jerry's voice was low
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but there was no quaver in it.
Her face, as she lifted it, seemed to hi
eyes the one face he could never painFor him it was the fulfilment of a man'
best dream.
"There's only one grief in my heart at thi
minute—that I can never put your face a
t is now on any canvas. But let me tel
you some things that Aunt Jerry has been
elling me. She seems so fond of you, anshe says that after all the claims agains
your father's estate are settled there i
really no income left for you. But sh
assures me that it makes no differencebecause you can go on living with he
exactly as you have always done. She tol
me she had never failed in the fruition of
single plan of hers, and she is too old t
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absolute submission. She couldn
conceive of me in the first plane, o
course, so I must be in the second."
"Why, Geraldine Swaim, I never heard
you speak so of your aunt before!" Eugen
Wellington exclaimed. He had caught a
new and very real line in the girl's face ashe spoke.
"Maybe not. But don't go Geraldine-in
me. It's too Aunt Jerry-ish. I'm coming tounderstand her better because I'm doin
my own thinking now," Jerry replied.
"As if you hadn't always done that, yo
ittle tyrant! I bear the scars of your teet
on my arms now—or I would bear them i
hadn't given up to you a thousand time
years ago," Eugene declared, laughingly.
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Let me tell you something. The evenin
before Uncle Cornie died—" Jerry brok
off suddenly.
t seemed unfair to betray the one burst o
confidence that the colorless old man ha
given up to on the last evening of hi
earthly life. Jerry knew that it was to herand for her alone, that he had spoken.
"This is what I want to tell you. I have n
ncome now. Aunt Jerry is right, althoughshe never told me that herself. But I have
plan to make a living for myself."
Eugene Wellington leaned back and
aughed aloud. "You, Miss Geraldine
Swaim, who never earned a dollar in you
precious life! I always knew you were
dreamer, but you are going wrong now
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Jerry. You must look out for belfry bats
under that golden thatch of yours. Onl
artists dare those wild flights so far—an
hey do it only on canvas and then gerejected by the hanging committee."
Jerry paid no heed to his bantering word
as she went on with serious earnestness"My estate—from my father—is a clai
out at New Eden, Kansas. Twelve
hundred acres. It has never been manage
well, consequently it has never paid wellLook at 'Eden' here"—Jerry lifted a han
for silence as Eugene was about to spea
—"it has only two hundred acres. Now
multiply it by six and you'll have NewEden out in Kansas. And I own it. And
am going to manage it. And I am not goin
o be dependent on anybody. Won't it be
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one big lark for me to go clear to the Sag
Brush Valley? If it is as beautiful as the
Winnowoc, just think of its possibilities. I
will be perfectly grand to feel oneself sfree and self-reliant. And when we hav
won out, you by your brush and I by m
Kansas farm, then, oh, Gene, how
splendid life will be!"
The big, dreamy eyes were full of light
The level beams of the sun stretched fa
across green meadows and shaven lawnsbetween tall lilac-trees, to the rose-arbor
ust to glorify that rippling mass of brown
shadowed golden hair.
"Jerry"—Eugene Wellington's voice
rembled—"you are the most wonderfu
girl in the world. I am so proud of you
But, dear girl, it is an old, threadbar
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fancy, this going to Kansas to get rich. M
father tried it years ago. He had a visio
of great things, too. He failed. Not onl
hat, he ruined everybody connected withim. That's why I'm poor to-day. Truly
ittle cousin mine, I don't believe the goo
Lord, who makes Edens like this in th
Winnowoc Valley, ever intended for wellbred people to leave them and go New
Eden-hunting in the Sage Brush Valley
We belong here where all the beauty o
nature is about us and the care of a lovin
God is over us. Why do you want to go t
Kansas? I wouldn't know how to pray ou
here where my father made such a botcof living. I really wouldn't."
"I don't know how to pray here, Gene,
Jerry said, softly, with no trace of flippan
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rreverence in her tone. "I forgot how t
do that when God took my father away
But listen to me." The imperious power o
he uncontrolled will was Jerry's always"You don't live here; you stay here. And
you take a piece of canvas and go to th
ends of the earth on it, or down to th
deeps, or into the heavens. You make whanever did and never will be, with you
free brush. And folks call it good and yo
earn a living by it. You are an artist. I am
a foolish dreamer, but I am going out to
Kansas and work my dreams into realit
and beauty—and money—in a New Eden
f the Lord isn't there, I shall not mind anmore than I do here. I am going to Kansas
hough, because I want to."
"Look, Jerry, at the sunset yonder,
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Eugene said, gently, knowing of old wha
"I want" meant. "They couldn't have suc
pictures of green and gold out West as we
see framed in here by the lilacs. Youalways have been a determined little gir
so you will have your own way now,
suppose. We can try it, anyhow, for a
while. And if you find your way a rockroad you must come back to 'Eden.' Whe
your new playthings fail, you can pla
with the old ones. But I really love you
spirit of self-reliance. I don't want yo
ever to be dependent. I don't want an
other Jerry than I have always known. An
want to work hard and make my littlalent pay me big, and make you proud o
me."
"We are living a real romance, Gene. And
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we'll be true to our word to make the bes
of ourselves and not let Aunt Jerry frighte
us into changing our plans, will we, Gene
My father's wish for me was that I shoulnot always be a spender of other folks'
ncomes, but that I would find out what i
means to live my own life. I never knew
hat until last week. Everything seemchanged for me since Uncle Cornie died
sn't it strange how suddenly we drop of
one life and take up another?" Jerry's eye
were on the deepening gold of the sunse
sky.
"Yes, we have been two idlers. I'm glad t
quit the job. But, somehow, for you could wish that you would stay here, i
you were only satisfied to do it," Eugen
replied.
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here."
Again Jerry looked at him withou
speaking, and that faint line of indecisiohat scarcely hinted at its own existenc
fixed itself in the substratum of he
memory.
Mrs. Darby met the young people in th
parlor, where only a few nights ago th
hree had watched the summer storm, no
knowing that it was beating down on thunconscious form of Cornelius Darby
Mrs. Darby felt sure that the young peopl
would be coming to her to-night. Well—
he end of her plan was in sight nowReally, it may have been better fo
Cornelius to have gone when he did, sinc
we must all go sometime. Indeed, it woul
have been better—only Jerusha Darb
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never knew that—if Cornelius had gon
before that discus-throw. Everything migh
have been different if he had gone earlier
But he lost the opportunity of his life tserve his wife by staying over and makin
one awkward fling too many.
The June evening was cool after the lonrains. Aunt Jerry had a tiny wood fir
burning in the parlor grate, and the tal
amps with the rose-colored shade
ighted to add a touch of twilight charm the place, when the young lovers came in.
"Aunt Jerry, we want to tell you what w
have been talking about," Eugene beganwhen the three were seated together
"Jerry and I have decided that we mus
ook on life differently now since—
Eugene hesitated.
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"Yes, I know." Mrs. Darby spoke briskly
"We must face the truth now and speak o
Cornelius freely. He was fond of both o
you. Poor Cornelius!"
"Poor Cornelius," Jerry Swaim repeated
under her breath.
"Of course I know it is difficult for a gir
reared as Jerry has been—" Eugene bega
again.
"She can go on living just as she has been
This will be her home always," Mrs
Darby broke in, abruptly.
"And I know that I have nothing but thprospect of earning a living and winnin
o a successful career in my line—" th
young man went on.
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"Hasn't Jerry the prospect of enough fo
herself? I'll need you to help me fo
several months. You know, Eugene, that
must have some one who understandCornelius's way of doing things." Ther
was more of command than request in th
older woman's voice.
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"I'll be glad to help you as long as I a
needed, but I am speaking now of my life
work. When I cannot serve you any longe
must begin on my own career. I havsome hopes and plans for the future."
"Humph! What's the use of talking abou
t? I tell you Jerry will have enough for alher needs, and I want you here. I shall no
consider any more such notions, Eugene
You are both going to stay right here a
you have done. Let's talk of somethinelse."
"We can't yet, Aunt Jerry, because I have
not enough for myself, even if Gene woulaccept a living from you," Jerry Swai
declared.
Jerusha Darby opened her narrow eye
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and stared at her niece. If the older woma
had made one plea of loneliness, if sh
had even hinted at sorrow for the loss o
he companion of her businesransactions, Jerry Swaim would have fel
uncomfortable, even though she knew he
aunt too well to be deceived by any suc
demonstration.
"Geraldine Swaim, what are you saying?
Mrs. Darby demanded, in a hard, eve
voice. Something in her manner and faccould always hold even the brave-spirite
n frightened awe of her.
Eugene Wellington lost courage to go onand the same thing came again that Jerr
Swaim had twice seen on his face in th
rose-arbor this evening. The two wer
ooking straight at the girl now. Th
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firelight played with the golden glory o
her hair and deepened the rose hue of he
round cheeks. The dark-blue eyes seeme
almost black, with a gleam in their depthhat meant trouble, and there was
strength in the low voice as Jerry went on
"I'm talking about what I know, AunJerry. All there is of my heritage from my
father is a 'claim,' they call it, at New
Eden, in the Sage Brush Valley in Kansas
welve hundred acres. I'm going out thero manage it myself and support myself o
an income of my own."
For a long minute Jerusha Darby lookesteadily at her niece, her own face as har
and impenetrable as if it were carven ou
of flint. Then she said, sharply:
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"Where did you find out all this?"
"It is all in a document here that I found i
he rose-arbor this afternoon," the girreplied. "Aunt Jerry, I must use what i
mine. I wouldn't be a Swaim if I didn't."
"You won't stay there two weeks." Mrs
Darby fairly clicked out the words. He
face was very pale and something lik
real fright looked through her eyes as sh
ook the paper from her niece's hand.
"And then?" Jerry inquired, demurely.
"And then you will come back here wher
you belong and live as you always havived, in comfort."
"And if I do not come?"
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han I do. I'll let you find it out to the las
imit. But when you come back you mus
promise me never to take another suc
notion. I won't stand this foolishnesforever. I'll give you plenty of money to
get there. You can write me when you
need funds to come back. It won't tak
ong to get that letter here."
"And if I shouldn't come?" Jerry asked
calmly.
"Look what you are giving up. All thi
beautiful home, to say nothing of the tow
house—and Eugene—and other property.
"No, no; you don't count him as you
property, do you?" Jerry cried, turning to
he young artist, whose face was ver
pale.
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"Jerry, must you make this sacrifice?" h
asked, in a voice of tenderness.
"It isn't a sacrifice; it's just what I want tdo," Jerry declared, lightly.
Jerusha Darby's face darkened. The effec
of a long and absolute exercise of wil
coupled with ample means, can make th
same kind of a tyrant out of a Kaiser and
rich aunt. The determination to have he
own way in this matter, as she had had iall other matters, became at once a
unbreakable purpose in her. She wanted to
keep fast hold of these young people fo
her own sake, not for theirs. For a littlwhile she sat measuring the two with he
narrow, searching eyes.
"I can manage him best," she concluded t
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herself. At last she asked, plaintively
"With all you have here, Jerry, why do
you go hunting opportunities in Kansas?"
"Because I want to," Jerry replied, and he
aunt knew that, so far as Jerry wa
concerned, everything was settled.
"Then we'll drop the matter here. I ca
wait for you to come to your senses
Eugene, if you can give her up, whe
you've always been chums, I certainlcan."
With these words Mrs. Darby rose and
passed out, leaving the two alone unde
he rose-colored lights of the richl
furnished parlor.
t was not like Jerusha Darby to make suc
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maidens have always guessed since lov
began. And on this night there were no
serpents at all in their Eden.
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IV
BETWEEN EDENS
The sun of a mid-June day glared dowpitilessly on the little station at th
unction of the Sage Brush branch with th
main line. There was not a tree in sight
The south wind was raving across thprairie, swirling showers of fine san
before it. Its breath came hot against Jerr
Swaim's cheek as she stood in th
doorway of the station or wandere
grimly down between the shining rails tha
stretched toward a boundless nowher
whither the "through" train had vanishe
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nearly two hours ago. As Jerry watched i
eaving, a sudden heaviness weighe
down upon her. And when the Pullman
porter's white coat on the rear platform ohe last coach melted into the dul
diminishing splotch on the wester
distance, she felt as if she wer
shipwrecked in a pathless land, with thittle red station house, reefed about b
cinders, as the only resting-place for th
soles of her feet. When her eyes grew
weary of the monotonous landscape, Jerr
rested them with what she called "A
Kansas Interior." The rustic station unde
he maples at "Eden" was always cleaand comfortably appointed. Big flower
beds outside, Uncle Cornie's gif
belonged to the station and its guests, wit
he spacious grounds of "Eden," at whic
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he travelers might gaze without cost, lyin
ust beyond it.
This "Kansas Interior" seemed only degree less inviting than the whol
monotonous universe outside. The dust o
ages dimmed the windows that wer
propped and nailed and otherwise secureagainst the entrance of cool summe
breezes, or the outlet of bad, overheate
air in winter. Iron-partitioned seats
nvention of the Evil One himself, stalleoff three sides of the room, intending t
prove the principle that no one body ca
occupy two spaces at the same time. In th
center of the room a "plain, unvarnishedstove, bare and bald, stood on a low
pedestal yellowed with time and tobacc
uice. A dingy, fly-specked map of the
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she wasn't going to die of th
iggermaroos in the empty nothingnes
here. It would be very different at New
Eden, she was sure of that. And this YorkMacpherson must be a nice old man
honest and easy-going, because he ha
never realized any income from her bi
Kansas estate. She pictured York easily—a short, bald-headed old gentleman wit
gray burnsides and benevolent pale-blu
eyes behind gold-rimmed glasses, drivin
a fat sorrel nag to an easy-going ol
Rockaway buggy, carrying a gold-headed
cane given him by the Sunday-schoo
Jerry had seen his type all her life in thbusiness circles of Philadelphia an
among the better-to-do country-dweller
around "Eden."
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At last it was only fifteen minutes till th
Sage Brush train would be due; then sh
could find comfort in her Pullman berth
She wondered what Aunt Jerry andEugene were doing now. She had slipped
away from "Eden" on her wild adventur
n the early dawn. She had taken leave o
Aunt Jerry the night before. Old womeneed their beauty sleep in the morning
even if foolish young things are breakin
all the laws by launching out to hunt thei
fortunes. Eugene had been hurriedly sen
away on Darby estate matters without th
opportunity of a leave-taking, two day
before Jerry was ready to start for KansasEverything was prearranged, evidently, to
make this going a difficult one. So
without a single good-by to speed her o
her quest, the young girl had gone out fro
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really lived."
Jerry stretched out her hands to the on
good-by in "Eden" coming to her frohese silent ripples of dewy green sod
Then youth and the June morning and th
ure of adventure into new lands cam
with their triple strength to buoy her up tdo and dare. Behind her were her lover t
be—for Eugene must love her—her hom
ies, luxury, dependent inactivity. Before
her lay the very ends of the earth, thKansas end especially. The spirit of Si
Galahad, of Robinson Crusoe, of Do
Quixote, combined with the spirit of
self-willed, inexperienced girl, but dimlconscious yet of what lay back of he
determination to go forth— because sh
wanted to go.
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Chicago and Kansas City offered eas
ports for clearing. And the Kaw Valley
unrolling its broad acres along the way
gave larger promise than Jerry had yedared to dream of for the New Ede
farther west. The train service, after th
manner of a Pacific Coast limited, ha
been perfect in every appointment. Andhen—this junction episode.
Two eternity-long hours before the Sage
Brush branch could take her to New Edewere almost ended.
"It's not so terrifying, after all." Jerry wa
beginning to "see things again." "It's all ihe game—and I am going to be as 'game
as the thing I am playing. Things alway
come round all right for me. They must."
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The square white chin was very much
family feature just now. And the shapely
hands had no hint of weakness in their grip
on the iron arms of the station seat.
The door which the wind had slamme
shut was slammed open again as thre
prospective passengers for the Sage Brusrain slammed through it laden wit
uggage. At the same time the sealed-up
icket-window flew open, showing th
red, grinning face of the tick-tick mabehind its iron bars. If Jerry had neve
paid the slightest heed to the bunch o
grubs on the Winnowoc branch, except a
hey kept down the ventilation, ocrowded their odors of Limburger on he
offended senses, the Sage Brush grub
were a thousandfold less worthy of he
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consideration. As the three crowded to th
icket-window, laughing amon
hemselves, she stared through th
doorway, unconsciously reading thnames on the cars of a freight-train slowl
heaving down alongside the station. Wh
nvented freight-cars, anyhow? The mos
uninteresting and inartistic thing ever puon wheels by the master mechanic of th
unbeautiful, created mainly to shut off th
view of mankind from what is reall
worth looking at. Jerry read the dulle
ettering mechanically: "Santa Fé" with it
symbol of a fat cross in a circle, "Iro
Mountain," "Great Northern," "Rocsland," "Frisco," "Union Pacific," "Gran
Trunk," came creeping by. "New York
Central," "Lehigh Valley," "Pennsylvania
Line." These took her back to "Eden" an
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he Winnowoc country. The station
building shook; the ugly old cars slam
banged a bit faster back and forth; th
engine, with the breath almost knocked ouof it, was puffing down by the switch, an
he whole body behind it quivered to
standstill. But Jerry Swaim's tear-blurre
eyes were seeing only the green fields ohe Darby country-place and the rose
arbor and Eugene Wellington. A voice
oud, but not unpleasant, and a laugh,
merry, catching, giggling guffaw, drove
he picture of "Eden" and all that belonge
o it into "viewless air" that went flappin
and flaring across the Kansas landscape."You don't mean it! He, he! Haw!
Everybody must smile now. "The old Sag
Brush local is locoed 'way up towar
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S'liny. Engine shortage, car shortage
common sense shortage. He, he! And w
must ride in that sunflower de luxe limite
standing out there. Come on, Thelmy. Youcan take lower nothin', car one-half. We'l
soar in now while the soarin's good."
Jerry looked at the bunch of grubs for thfirst time. One had to see where that bi
gloom-chasing giggle came from. Thelm
was a spotlessly clean, well-made countr
product, wherein the girl had easily giveplace to the woman, erect, full-bosomed
strong of frame. The hazel eyes wer
arched over by heavy brown brows. Ther
was no rosebud curve to the rather widmouth that showed a set of magnificen
white teeth. The brown hair wound brai
on braid about the head was proof of th
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glory of Saint Paul's scriptural decree
ot that Jerry Swaim really noted any o
hese features. She merely saw a countr
girl—a not offensive native. The native'comrade, he with the big-laugh fixtures
was short and stout, with a round face o
he front side of a round head, set on to
of a tight-built body. Grub though he wasJerry involuntarily smiled with him. Tha
far the fat little man controlled everybody
But the funny little strut in his gait as h
walked was irresistible. The thir
passenger, the grubbiest of the three grubs
was a nondescript of whose presenc
Jerry was not even aware until she hearhis voice. It was a thin, high, unuse
voice, and its pitch wabbled up and down
"Be you goin' on the Sage Bresh train
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ady?"
The questioner had turned back after th
country girl and the fat man had passeout.
Jerry looked at him without taking hi
question to herself. His shoes, drape
with wrinkled-down hose, were ver
much worn. His overalls flapping aroun
his legs, his shirt and neck and face an
hair and hat, were all of one complexiona fuzzy, yellow brown.
"Be you goin' on this train, too?"
t was a humble, kindly voice, and thscaly old hand holding the door ope
against the high prairie wind was only
fisherman's hand. The deep-set eyes in th
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yellow-brown old face were trained t
read the river; the patient mouth set t
wait for the catch of lines and nets.
Jerry had never in her life spoken to suc
a creature. So far as she was concerned
he did not exist.
"This is the only train on the Sage Bres
o-day, lady. The reg'lar train's busted
hrough a culbert out yander," the high
quavering voice persisted.
A sharp tooting from the engine down th
ine emphasized the statement, and Jerr
saw the grinning red-faced tick-tick ma
hastily wheeling mail-sacks and sundr
other parcels by the door. In a bewildered
way she rose and passed out, giving n
recognition to the shabby old man wh
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had been thoughtful of her ignorance.
"We gotta go to the last car down yander
ady," the old man squeaked out, as hstarted down the cinder-paved way with
bearlike, shuffling, sidewise sort of gait.
Jerry followed him slowly to "the last ca
down yander."
A plain day coach, the sixtieth and las
vertebra in this long mechanical spine
was already crowded with a bunch o
grubs, none of whom could belong to Jerr
Swaim's sphere. Moreover, they were al
ightly packed in and wedged down so tha
t was impossible to detect the leaving of
of the full-fare passenger and th
beginning of suit-cases, old-styl
elescopes, baskets, bundles, boxes, half
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fare children, bags of fruit, lunch-crates
pieces of farming tools, babes in arms
groceries—everything to cabbages an
kings. Jerry wondered where all theshings came from. Every object in tha
car, human being or salt pork, crying bab
or kingbolt, was a thing to Jerry Swaim
And all of them were very warm annervously tense, as if the hot June win
had blown them all inside, that the ho
June sun, through the closed windows
might stew them stinkily; or, through th
open windows, grime their sweaty face
with hot dust off the hot prairie. Ther
was only one vacant seat left. It was ohe shady side, facing the rear of the car
and was half occupied already by th
humble grub of the squeaky voice. Th
girl, Thelma, and the fat little man ha
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aken the seat opposite him. As Jerr
entered the car the little man was on hi
feet, bowing and strutting and insisting tha
a woman with a babe in arms shoulexchange seats with him, putting her on th
cool side, while he took her place in th
sun across the aisle from Thelma. In th
ransfer he did not see Jerry, who waooking in vain for an opening in that mas
of "human various." It was the humbl
grub who saw her standing there
Evidently his little yellow-green eyes too
her measure at a glance, but he did no
spread out his effects and stare out of th
window as some other men were doingnor gather himself and his into his ow
half of the seat to make room for he
beside him. He rose, and in a shrill littl
quaver he bade her take his place. It di
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not occur to Jerry to tell him that ther
was room for two, as she saw him shuffl
down the aisle with a queer, limping hitch
n the same impersonal way she watchehim through the open door, sitting on th
rear platform during the long afternoon
humpbacked against the cinders and dus
hat beat upon him, swaying with throcking car, jerked along over a sun
baked, treeless prairie at the tail of a lon
erky freight-train. He meant nothing t
his dainty city product; his kind had neve
entered her world; no more had the red
faced, tow-headed young mother, wit
white eyebrows and hat knocked rakishlaslant, with her big, restless, bald-heade
baby rolling over her in waves, sprawlin
about Thelma, and threatening to bump it
head off as it overflowed all the narrow
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space, aimlessly and persistently.
But if Jerry Swaim felt out of her elemen
n this company, her fellow-passengerfelt much more embarrassed by he
presence. Thelma's neat gingham dres
became limp and mussy and common. Th
ired mother's yellow lawn was rumplento a dish-rag. And with every jerk of th
rain she lost a hair-pin from her tow hai
hat was already stringing down in lon
wisps on her neck. The baby, really happy, white, blue-veined infant, becam
a fussy flushed impossibility.
All this, it seemed, just because of thpresence of a faultlessly dressed, fair
faced stranger who awed everybody b
not seeing them, but whose very daintines
and beauty drew them hungrily to her
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obody could be in Jerry Swaim'
presence and not feel the spell of he
nherent magnetism.
The laughter and complaints of th
passengers dulled down to endurance
Only the face of the short man wore
smile. But his mouth was made with thakind of a curve, and he couldn't help i
Breathing deeply and perspirin
healthfully, he sat against the hea
streaming into his side of the car, andforgot his troubles in his unbreakabl
good nature. For a long time he an
Thelma had talked across the aisle abov
and through the train's noises. Their talwas all of Paul and Joe's place, and th
crops; of how glad Thelma was to be a
home again on Paul's account; and how
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ong it would take her yet if the alfalfa an
wheat turned out well.
Jerry heard it all without knowing it, ashe looked at the monotonous landscap
without knowing it. And then the dr
prairies began to deepen to a richer hue
Yellow wheat-fields and low-growingcorn and stretches of alfalfa broke into th
high plains where cattle grazed. And the
came the gleam of a river, sometime
shallow along sandy levels, sometimedeep, with low overhanging brush o
either side. And there were cottonwood
rees and low twisted elms and scrubb
ocust and oak saplings, and the faintfresh scent of moisture livening the air.
The train jerked itself to a standstil
hought better of it, and hunched alon
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again for a rod or two, then jostled itsel
quiet again.
Jerry was very drowsy now, but she waconscious of hearing the fat man callin
out, cheerfully:
"Home at last, Thelmy. There's Pau
waiting for you. Well, good-by."
And of Thelma's "Good-by" in a loude
one than was necessary. Of more struttin
and bowing and no end of luggag
clearing itself away.
Through the window Jerry caught sight o
a tall, fair-haired boy, who looked likThelma, except that in his white face wa
he pathos of the life-cripple. She saw
Thelma kiss him, and then the two starte
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down the sunny, cindery side-trac
ogether. In the distance, close to the river
here was a small plain house under a bi
cottonwood-tree. The glimpse of reabout a little porch meant that the crimso
ramblers were in bloom there. Oh, th
roses of "Eden," and the cool rose-arbor
Jerry must have dreamed then, for "Edenwas about her again. Through it th
imping grub came humbly to claim hi
sundry own from behind and under th
seat. Even in "Eden" she thought how
much like a clumsy bear his gait was. And
when the little man called him "Teddy
she knew he was not a fisherman sort ocreature, but a real bear in yellow-brow
overalls, and that the general fuzziness o
his make-up was fur, and that his stubby
scaly hands were claws. He dropped of
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somewhere when the freight took a sidin
very near the river. It was the Sage Brush
but it ran through the "Eden" grounds an
Uncle Cornie was throwing his discubeside it. The rose-arbor was just acros
he aisle. The little fat man was sitting i
ts doorway, with a new moon of a smil
on the smooth side of his round heawhere his face was, a half-quizzical, half
sympathetic smile with no guile in it. Jerr
really liked him for that kind of a smile. I
belonged to him. The rose-arbor was ver
warm, for the man was sweating mor
copiously than ever.... Uncle Cornie wa
gone. The limping Teddy Bear wagone.... It was very, very hot and sunny in
"Eden." The big maples and cool lilac
were gone.... "Eden" was gone. In it
stead came the art exhibit in the coo
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gallery in the city. And that yellow-gray
desert landscape with the flamin
afterglow and purple mists. The flame
seemed almost real, and the yellow graalmost real, and the art-gallery was gettin
warmer as "Eden" had done. It wa
positively hot.... And then the Sage Brus
freight was laboring slowly and painfullhrough a desert with clack and roar an
cloud of cindery dust.... Jerry sat up, wid
awake, and looked up at the fat strange
who was looking at her, the smile on th
nside of his face, as it were, showin
only in the eyes.
Outside, the river was gone, taking with iall the cool-breathing alfalfa, and elm an
cottonwood shade, and leaving in thei
stead only bare earth-ridges and low
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dunes. As far as Jerry could see, ther
was nothing but a hot yellow plain
wrinkled here and there in great barre
folds, with wave and crest and hollow owind-shifted sand crawling endlessl
back and forth along the face of th
andscape. A few spiny green shrub
struggled through at intervals, but theipresence only intensified the barrennes
about them.
The train was entering a deep wrinkle nounlike that cut beyond the third crossing o
he Winnowoc. Jerry remembered the da
she had watched that other train from th
bluff road, and her exultation in poundinher big car up the steep way instead o
crawling through, as Eugene was doing
Later she had found out that Eugene reall
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preferred that to the more daring climb
Jerry involuntarily gripped the car sea
with a subconscious longing to get out an
drive over the whole thing. Across thaisle, the smile on the fat man's face wa
coming outside as he watched the strange
passenger.
They were deep in now—a valley-lik
hing that was hotter than any other inch o
he whole way they had come. On eithe
side tall slabs of timber, planted uprightclosed in the right of way. They wer
barely moving through this narrow lane
The engine was gasping for breath, and th
cars dragged themselves after it by inchesThen all came to a dead stop.
"Everybody turn out and help," somebod
n uniformed authority called through th
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car door, and all the men passenger
stirred to action.
"The dickens!" the short fat maexclaimed to everybody. "Stuck in a sand
drift in that danged blowout. That's wha
comes of letting this wind go all day.
old 'em up at the junction to stop it, buhey wouldn't listen to me. Now we've go
o soar out of here and shovel for ou
ives."
When he laughed everybody else had t
augh, too, and it was a really good
natured company of men that piled dow
from the train to help the cause of railwaransportation.
The fat man had been last to leave the car
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"Let me close all these windows," h
urged, strutting from seat to seat. "It'll b
hot with 'em shut, but you'll be buried i
sand in here if we leave 'em open, and wmen don't want to dig you and the engin
all out in one day. We mightn't find all the
children, you know, and leave some of 'e
n here covered up. He, he! Haw!" Hstruggled with the last windows until the
were sealed down, then turned away t
end his aid in a good cause.
The tow-headed woman and her littl
perpetual-motion baby, who had bee
sleeping wearily for a few miles, rouse
at the jolly man's loud laugh.
"It's the blowout," the mother said, a
Jerry looked at her for the first time
"Them timbers is driv in to keep out al
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hat sand. See how it's heaped up ag'in
em on the outside. On awfully windy day
t blows over and fills the tracks and stop
he train, and then the men all get out anhelp to shovel it off. Gee whiz! but it's ho
n here! We'd be just smothered in sand i
we left the windows open, though. There
There!"
The last to the big baby, stirring uneasily
whom the mother patted off to slumbe
again.
Jerry walked to the rear door and looke
out at the narrow space walled in b
palisades, and at glimpses of sand waveon either side of the road beyond them; a
he little hot-looking green shrubs clingin
for life to their shifting depths, and th
heat-quivering air visible above them. I
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all her life she had never felt s
uncomfortable as now; never realize
what it means to endure physical misery
She had seen the habitable globe feature—lake-shore, and seaside, and mountai
resorts; big navigable rivers; big forests
narrow little valleys; sheer cliffs an
wonderful waterfalls. She didn't know thahe world held such a place as this tha
anybody but a Hottentot was supposed t
nhabit. Through a long hour and a half th
rain was held back by the sand of wha
Jerry heard was a "blowout." She did no
know nor care what the term meant. Sh
wanted to get out of it and go on, anwhat Jerry Swaim wanted she had alway
had the right to have.
The sun was getting low in the west whe
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he local freight labored up the Sage Brus
Valley to its terminal in the yards at New
Eden. All of the passengers except Jerr
umbled out, much as tired boys rush frohe church door after a long doctrina
sermon. The car was stopped at th
freight-station, some distance down th
ine from the passenger-station, whicwas itself a long way out from New Eden
after the manner of Western small towns
The middle '80's, when railroad branc
ines were building, found road director
and town councils falling out ove
echnicalities, with the result that th
railroad seldom secured the ground iwanted and the town was seldom given
convenient station site.
The buses filled rapidly, and the mail and
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express wagons were rattling off ahead o
buses and foot passengers, and still th
young stranger sat in the car. A sudden
sense of loneliness had enveloped her lika cloud. She was not a novice abroad. Sh
had gone to strange towns alone before
She knew all the regulations of hote
service. She knew why she had come herand what she had to do, and she ha
abundant means for all her needs. But wit
all these points in her favor a helplessnes
swept over her, and the "what next" for th
moment perplexed her. The engine wa
getting restless again. However long i
may require a local freight to get from ongiven point to another, the engine, like an
ll-broken colt, will keep stepping up o
pulling back through every halt of th
rain. Jerry sat inside, watching the las
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bus, loaded and hung-on-to, swinging of
down the dusty road toward the town,
full half-mile across the prairie from th
station. Life was getting a trifle tonteresting in this foreign clime, and whe
he short man appeared in the doorway
even the full-moon face and half-moo
smile, the profound bow and comicastrut, could not out-weigh the genuin
comfort his presence seemed to bring.
"Pardon me, Miss—Miss—"
"Miss Swaim," Jerry informed him, sur
of herself and unafraid again.
"Oh, Miss Swaim! My name is Ponk—
Junius Brutus Ponk. Pardon again if I see
o intrude. This is the Sage Brush termina
Excuse me if I say thank the Lord for th
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end of this day's journey! The buses ar
all gone. May I take you to you
destination here in my little gadabout
You want to stop somewhere in NewEden overnight, anyhow."
"Thank you very much."
Jerry looked at him gratefully, even if h
was only one of the bunch of grubs sh
had been forced to ride with all this lon
afternoon, she who had once repudiatehe Winnowoc train and all trains withou
Pullman accommodations. "The smile o
her face was mightily winsome," Pon
declared afterward, "and just took all mramparts and citadels and moats an
drawbridges at one fell swoop."
He gathered up her bags and helped he
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off the car pompously, saying:
"Here she is, Miss Swaim. Step right in.
And then with a flourish of arms he haJerry and her belongings stored inside
shiny gray runabout and was off down th
grassy road with a dash.
"Where shall I take you to, Miss Swaim?
he inquired, when the little car had glide
gracefully around the lumbering buses an
rattling wagons.
"To the best hotel, please," Jerry replied
"Do you know which one that is?"
"Yes'm. There isn't but one. TheCommercial Hotel and Gurrage. I'm th
proprietor, so I know." The smile tha
broke around the face of the speaker wa
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oo good-natured to make his words see
presumptuous.
Jerry smiled, too, finding herself in thgrasp of a strange and complet
confidence in the pompous little unknow
chauffeur.
"Do you know an old gentleman her
named York Macpherson, a Mortgage
Company man?" she asked, looking at hi
directly for the first time.
Ponk seemed to gulp down a smile befor
he replied: "Ye-es, I do know York very
well. He's prob'bly older than he looks
His office is right across the street fro
he Commercial Hotel and Gurrage."
Afterward he declared: "From the minut
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hat girl turned her eyes full on me and
saw how blue them orbs were, I begun t
wish I had a gold button instead of a bon
one in the back of my collar. I knew shcould see that cheap bone thing righ
hrough my neck and I was willing righ
hen to lay down and play dead if sh
wanted me to, and I'm never going trecover, never."
"Would you do—me a favor?" Jerry
asked, hesitatingly.
Asking favors was a new line for her an
she followed it prettily.
"Wouldn't I!" Mr. Ponk exclaimed. "Try
me."
"Even his voice has a strut in it," Jerr
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hought. Aloud she said: "I have busines
with this old gentleman and I would b
much obliged if you would tell him tha
Miss Geraldine Swaim is in the city anwould like to meet him."
"Why, I'll soar right over there as soon a
we get to the hotel and gurrage."
Junius Brutus Ponk looked slyly at the fac
of his companion as he spoke. What h
was thinking just then it would have beehard to guess. With a flourish and curv
hat were wholly Ponkish the fat little ma
swung the gray car up to the brick-pave
porch of the "Commercial Hotel anGurrage."
"Why, there's York now, reading his mail
'll go right over and tell him," Mr. Pon
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declared. "Here, George, tell Georgette t
give Miss Swaim number seven."
George assisted Miss Swaim to the hoteregister and Georgette led her to room No
7. Georgette wanted to linger a minute, fo
his guest was so unlike the usua
commercial-traveler kind of ladies whsold books, or canvassed for extracts, o
ook orders for crayon portraits enlarge
from little photographs; but Miss Swaim'
manner gave no excuse for lingeringAlone, Jerry closed her door and turned
with a smile on her lips, to face he
surroundings. The room was clean an
cool, with a big window overhanging thstreet. Jerry sat down before it, realizin
how weary the long journey had made her
Across the street, the sign of th
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Macpherson Mortgage Company in bi
gold letters hung above a plate-glas
window. Mr.
Ponk, who had just "soared" across, wa
sitting in his car before it. Jerry saw a ma
nside at a desk very much like Uncl
Cornie's in the Philadelphia bankinghouse where Eugene Wellington was busy
now helping Aunt Jerry to settle things
This man was reading letters when th
Ponk car tooted before the big windowHe waved a hand to the tooter, then put hi
etters away and came leisurely outside
Jerry saw a tall, finely proportioned man
he set of whose clothes had a city air, andhere was something in his whole manne
hat would have distinguished him fro
every other man in New Eden.
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The fat little man talked earnestly, with
flourish of the hand now and then towar
he room where Jerry sat watching th
wo. York Macpherson rested one foot onhe running-board, and leaned his arms o
he side of the car, listening intently to
what Mr. Ponk was saying.
"So that is this York Macpherson who
was never responsible for my estate no
making any returns. And I called him an
old man. The hotel proprietor must belling him that now." Jerry laughed as sh
saw the two men chuckling together
"Well, I hope the pompous little fellow
ells him I'm an old woman. It would evehings up wonderfully."
Ten minutes later Jerry was shaking hand
with York Macpherson and promising him
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o go to his home and meet his sister a
soon as she had cleared her eyes of dus
sufficiently to see anybody.
t must have been the dust in her eyes
Jerry thought, that made York Macpherson
appear so unlike the benevolen
nefficient old gentleman she had pictureo herself. The hotel parlor was in twiligh
shadows, which helped a little to concea
he surprise of these two when they me
here. Jerry knew what she had beeanticipating. Whether York Macpherson
knew or not, he was clearly not expectin
what he found in the hotel parlor.
"I'll soar down to your shack with the lad
as soon as she has had her supper and go
herself rightly in hand," Ponk declared t
York when he came into the hotel office
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"You see, we got stuck in that danged
nfernal blowout, and it was as hard on th
womenkind who had to sit inside an
swelter as on us men who nobly dugSpecially this Miss Swaim. She mus
have 'wept to see such quantities of sand
same as them oysters and walruses an
carpenters. We'll be along by and byhough. Have a cigar. What do you mak
of her, anyhow, York?"
"I don't make anything. I leave that job tyou," York replied, with a smile, as he
urned abruptly and left the hotel.
"Unless you see eight per cent. interescoming your way, I see. There might be
bigger interest in this investment than an
you ever made in your life," Ponk calle
after him.
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But York only waved off the words
without looking back. Outside, the sunset'
splendor was filling the western sky—th
same old prairie sunset that he had seemany a time in his years in Kansas. And
yet, on this evening it did not seem quit
he same; nor were the sunsets, New Eden
and the Sage Brush Valley from thievening ever quite as they had bee
before, to York Macpherson.
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V
NEW EDEN'S PROBLEM
Because of a broken "culbert" out towar"S'liny" the afternoon train on the Sag
Brush branch was annulled for the day
Because of this annulment the mail for th
Sage Brush Valley was brought up on theocal freight, which is always behind tim
when it reaches its terminal, whic
accounted for the late delivery of the mai
at the New Eden post-office, which mad
York Macpherson's dinner late because o
a big batch of letters to be read, and a
mportant business call at the Commercia
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Hotel following the reading and th
delivery of Mr. Ponk's message.
Purple shadows were beginning to foldown upon the landscape, while overhea
he sky was still heliotrope and gold, bu
York Macpherson, walking slowly
homeward, saw neither the shadows nohe glory that overhung them. It wa
evident to his sister Laura, who wa
waiting for him in the honeysuckle corne
of the big front porch, that his mind waburdened with something unusual to-night
York Macpherson was a "leading citizen
ype of the Middle West. Wholesomeruggedly handsome, prosperous, shrew
o read men's minds, quick to meet thei
needs, full of faith in the promise of th
Western prairies, with the sort of culture
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no hardship of the plains could eve
overcome—that was York. Although he
was on the front edge of middle life i
years, with a few gray streaks in his wavbrown hair, he had the young-looking face
he alert action, and vigorous atmospher
of a young-hearted man just entered int
his full heritage of manhood.
"The train was delayed down the river o
account of sand drifted over the track b
he south wind, and that made the maiate," York explained, when he reached
he porch. "I'll bet you have had the hous
shut up tight as wax and have gone abou
all day with a dust-cloth in your handGiven a south wind and Laur
Macpherson, and you have a hom
ndustry in no time. Let's hurry up th
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dinner" (it was always dinner to th
Macphersons and supper to the remainde
of New Eden) "and get outside again a
soon as possible. I can't think in shut-urooms."
"When there is a south wind it makes littl
difference whether or not one does anhinking. I postpone that job to the cool o
he evening," Laura Macpherson declared
as she led the way to the dining-room.
When the two came outside again the ai
off the prairie was delicious, and ther
was promise of restfulness later in th
black silence of the June night that madhem forget the nervous strain of the wind
day. The Macphersons had no problem
hat they could not talk over in th
shadowy stillness of that roomy porch o
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summer evenings.
York had been a bachelor boarder at the
"Commercial Hotel and Garage" for somyears before the coming of his siste
Laura, who was at once his housekeeper
companion, and counselor. When he firs
went to the hotel New Eden was in itnfancy, and the raw beginnings of thing
were especially underdone in this two
dollars-a-day, one-towel-a-wee
establishment. It was through York thaJunius Brutus Ponk had given up a
unprofitable real-estate business t
become proprietor of the Commercia
Hotel—"and Gurrage" was added latewith the advent of automobiles, th
"Gurrage" part being a really creditabl
equipped livery for public service. By thi
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change of occupation for Ponk, th
Macpherson Mortgage Compan
accomplished several things. It got rid o
an inefficient competitor whose vernefficiency would have made him a mor
disagreeable enemy than a successful ma
would have been. Further, it placed th
ambitious little man where his talentcould flourish (flourish is the right wor
for J. B. Ponk), and it put into the growin
ittle town of New Eden a hotel with cit
comforts that brought business to the tow
and added mightily to its reputation an
respectability.
York Macpherson's business had grownwith the town he had helped to build. Lon
before other towns in this part of Kansa
had dreamed it possible for them, New
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Eden was lighted with electricity. Water
works and a sewer system fore-ran cemen
sidewalks and a mile of paving, no
ncluding the square around the courthouse. And before any of these had com
he big stone school-house on the hig
ridge overlooking the Sage Brush Valley
for miles. That also was YorkMacpherson's task, which he had carrie
out almost single-handed, and had th
satisfaction of bringing desirabl
axpaying residents to live in New Ede
who would never have come but for th
school advantages. Then Junius Brutu
Ponk, who had learned to couple witYork, got himself elected to the board o
education and began to pay higher salarie
o teachers than was paid by any othe
own in the whole Sage Brush Valley; to
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he end that better schools were housed i
hat fine school-building, and a finer clas
of young citizens began to put the goo
name of New Eden above everything elseThe hoodlum element was there, o
course, but it was not the leading element
Boys stuck to the high-school faithfull
and followed it up with a college courseeven though a large per cent. of the
worked for every dollar that the cours
cost them. Girls went to college, too, unti
t became a rare thing to find a teacher i
he whole valley who had not a diplom
from some institution of higher learning.
t was only recently that LaurMacpherson had come to New Eden t
make her home with her brother. An
accident a few years before had shortene
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one limb, making her limp as she walked
She was some years older than York, with
a face as young and very much like he
brother's; a comely, companionable sort owoman, popular alike with men an
women, young folks and children.
Some time before her coming York hadbought the best building-site in New Eden
a wooded knoll inside the corporatio
imits, the only natural woodland in th
vicinity, that stood directly across the faend of Broad Avenue, the main business
street, whose mile of paving ended i
York's driveway. In one direction, thi
site commanded a view far down SagBrush Valley; in the other, it overlooked
he best residence and business portion o
ew Eden. Here York had, as he put it
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"built a porch, at the rear of which a few
rooms were attached." The main glory o
he place, however, was the big porch.
York had named their home "Castle
Cluny," and his big farm joining it jus
outside the town limits "Kingussie," afte
some old Macpherson-clan memoriesThere were no millionaires in the Sag
Brush Valley, and this home was far and
away the finest, as well as the mos
popular, home in a community where thrifand neatness abounded in the homes, an
elegance was very much lacking, as wa
o be expected in a young town on the fa
edge of the Middle West.
"Joe Thomson came in to-day to see m
about putting a mortgage on his claim thi
side of the big blowout. Looks like
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osing game for Joe. His land is abou
one-third sand now," York commented
houghtfully, as he settled himsel
comfortably in his big porch chair.
"Well, why not let the sand have its own
hird, while he uses the other two-third
himself? They ought to keep him busy,Laura suggested.
The country around New Eden was stil
new to her. Although she overflowed theown with her sunny presence, he
ameness had kept her nearer to "Castl
Cluny" than her brother ha
comprehended. She did not understand thaws, nor lawlessness, of what her brothe
called the "blowout," nor had she eve
seen the desolation that marked it
broadening path.
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"A blowout is never satisfied until it ha
swallowed all the land in the landscape,
York explained. "I remember a few year
ago there was just a sandy outcrop along ittle draw below Joe's claim, the line o
some prehistoric river-bed, I suppose
That was the beginning of the thing Joe i
fighting to-day. Something started the sando drifting. It increased as the wind blew
away the soil; the more wind, the mor
sand; the more sand, the more wind. The
worked together until what had been
narrow belt spread enormously, graduall
overlapping Joe's claim, making acres o
waste ground. I hate to see Joe shoulder mortgage to try to drive back tha
monstrous thing. But Joe is one of thos
big, self-contained fellows who takes th
bit in his teeth and goes his own gait i
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But York was serious himself in the nex
minute.
"Our company doesn't want the prairie; iwants prosperity. A foreclosed mortgage
s bad business. It brings us responsibilit
and ill-will. What we want is good-wil
and interest money. I have put the thing upo Joe just as it is. Man is a free agent t
choose or let alone. I have a bigge
problem than Joe to handle now. I had
etter this evening from Miss GeraldinSwaim, of Philadelphia. Do yo
remember her, Laura? She used to com
up to Winnowoc when she was a littl
girl."
"I remember little Jerry Swaim, Jim an
Lesa's only child," York's sister declared
"She was considerably younger than I.
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pushed her in her baby-cab when I wasn
very big myself. When I went away t
college she was a little roly-poly beaut
of ten or eleven, maybe. Wasn't she namedfor her father's rich sister, Mrs. Darby?
never knew that Mrs. Darby's name wa
Geraldine."
"It wasn't; it was Jerusha; and Jim's nam
was Jeremiah; and Lesa's was plai
Melissa," York explained. "But Lesa
changed all of their names to make thesound more romantic. Romance wa
Lesa's strong suit. She called her daughte
Jerry,' to please Mrs. Darby, but the child
was christened Geraldine—never JerushaLesa wouldn't stand for that."
"And now what does this Geraldine wan
from my respected brother?" Laur
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nquired, leaning back on the cushions o
her chair to listen.
York's face was hidden by the darkeshadows of the porch, but his sister knew
by his grave tone, when he spoke again
hat something deeper than a busines
ransaction lay back of this message froPhiladelphia.
"It's an old story, Laura. The story o
parents rearing a child in luxury and thedying poor and leaving this chil
unprovided for and unfitted to provide fo
herself. Jim Swaim was as clear-heade
as his wife was soft-hearted andealizing. Every angle of his was a righ
angle, even if he did grow a bit tight-fiste
sometimes for his family's sake. But
eech of a fellow, a sort of relative by
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marriage, got his claws into Jim som
way, and in the end got him, root and
branch. Then Lesa contracted pneumoni
and died after a short illness. And juswhen Jim was most needed to hold up hi
business interests and tide things over, a
well as look after his daughter, they found
him dead in his office one morning. Hearfailure, the doctors said, the kind that get
a brain-fagged business man. The estat
has been in litigation for two years. Now
t is settled, and all that is left fo
Geraldine is a claim her father held ou
here in the Sage Brush Valley. She think
she is going to live on that. She came in ohe afternoon train and is stopping at th
Commercial Hotel. I called to see her
minute on my way home. That was why
ate a cold dinner this evening. I asked he
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o come here at once, but she refused
Some one from the hotel will bring he
over later. That means Ponk, of course
He's the whole Commercial Hotel 'anGurrage.' We must have her here to stay
with us awhile, of course."
"York Macpherson!" his sister fairlygasped. "Coming to call this evening! Wil
stay with us awhile, of course. All right
'm willing she should stay with us awhile
but how can she live on a Sage Brusclaim? Why doesn't her rich aunt Darb
provide for her? What does she loo
ike?"
"I don't know," York drawled
provokingly. Then he added: "Mrs. Darb
also writes, saying that she hopes we wil
ook after Jerry while she is here, but tha
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o the Sage Brush herself; that would b
ike Jim Swaim. Or she may be making
ark of the trip; that's her mother's child
And, anyhow, she has property in her owname, you see."
"Property, bosh! Where is this preciou
claim that is to sustain this luxuriouslreared child?" Laura Macpherson insisted
"It is an undeveloped claim down the Sag
Brush, in a part of the country you havenseen yet. That is what this child of luxur
has come out for to live upon," York said
with a minor chord of anxiety in his voice
Then a silence fell, for Laura Macpherso
felt that something tragical must be boun
up in the course of coming events.
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t was the poet's hour of "nearly dark.
The "high lights" were beginning to glea
from the cupola of the court-house an
high-school, and station tower out acroshe open stretch that lay between it and th
own. New Eden was unusually wel
ighted for its size. York Macpherson had
forced that provision into the electricompany's franchise. But New-Edenite
were still rural in their ways, and neve
burned up the long summer twilight wit
bug-alluring street lights. Homes, too
were mostly shadowy places, with th
dwellers resting in porch swings or law
chairs. Moreover, although there was ittle leakage somewhere through whic
hings disappeared occasionally, nobod
n town except bankers, postmasters, an
mortgage companies locked their doors
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"Humans," Laura replied, composedly.
"Not the Big Dipper, I hope. Isn't the town
big enough without her ranging all oveKingussie'?"
"Oh, York, you will call Mrs. Bahrr 'the
Big Dipper' to her face some day, if yo
don't quit your private practice," Laur
declared.
"Well, her name is Stella Bahrr. 'Stellar,
she calls it, and she pronounces he
surname just plain 'Bear.' If that isn't starr
enough I don't know my astronomy. And
she is always dipping into other folks'
business and stirring up trouble with
high hand. Laura, once and for all, neve
ie up with that little old hat-trimmer
She'll trim you if you do."
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"Don't be uneasy about our gettin
chummy. I'm positively rude to her most o
he time. She isn't coming here. She ha
veered off toward the Lenwells'. But loowho is coming, York."
York shifted his chair into line with the
street.
"It's the fair Philadelphian and he
pompous gentleman in waiting," York
declared.
"Look at little Brother Ponk strut, woul
you? 'A charge to keep I have.' But, York
Miss Swaim appears a bit to
Philadelphian for our New Eden scenery!
Laura exclaimed.
"She is a type all her own, I would say
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Jim Swaim's determined chin and Lesa'
dreamy eyes. She will be an interestin
study, at least. I wonder which parent wil
win in her final development," Yorkreplied, as the two approached the house.
"I have brought the young lady to call o
you," Mr. Ponk said, presenting hicompanion with a flourish, as if she wer
a trophy cup or a statue just unveiled
"Sorry I can't stay to visit with you, but m
clerk is out to-night. They'll take care oyou beautiful, Miss Swaim. No, thank you
no. I'll just soar back to the hotel."
He waved off the seat York had profferedhim, and bowed himself away a
gracefully as a short, round man can bow.
Laura Macpherson had an inborn gift o
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hospitality, but she realized at once tha
his guest brought an unusual an
compelling interest. She was conscious
oo, in a vague way, of the portent of sompermanent change pending. What she saw
clearly was a very pretty girl with a sof
voice and a definite, forceful personality.
"Miss Swaim, you must be tired after you
ong journey," Laura began, courteously.
"Please don't call me that. I am so far frohome I'll be 'Miss Swaimed' enough
anyhow."
The appeal in the blue eyes broke dow
all reserve.
"Then I'll call you 'Jerry,' as I did when
you were a little girl and I was beginnin
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o think about getting grown up," Laur
exclaimed.
"And since you are far from home, whope you may find a home welcome in ou
house, and that you will come at once an
be our guest indefinitely," York added
with his winning smile that ought to havsent him to Congress years ago.
Something about Jerry Swaim had caugh
Laura Macpherson in a moment. Shhoped that York had the same feeling. Bu
York was one of the impenetrable kind
when he chose. And he certainly chos
hat evening to prove his impenetrability.
"You are very kind," Jerry said, looking a
York with earnest eyes, void of al
coquettishness. Then, turning to York'
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sister, she went on:
"I am not tired now. But the last part of my
ourney was frightful. The afternoon wahot, and the wind blew terrifically. The
had to close the windows to keep out th
dust. Then we were delayed in what the
old me was called a 'blowout.'" Her eyewere sparkling now, but her emphasis o
he term seemed to cut against York
Macpherson's senses like burning sand
filled wind as he sat studying her face.
"All the 'blowouts' I ever heard of were i
he tires of our limousine car," sh
continued, musingly. "And my cousinGene Wellington, of Philadelphia, didn
know what to do about them at all. He i
an artist, and artists never do take t
practical things. Gene was more helples
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when anything went wrong with the ca
han ever I was, and awfully afraid o
aking a risk or anything."
And that, it seemed to the Macphersons
must have been helpless indeed. For a
she sat there at ease in the shadow
dimness of the summer evening, YorkMacpherson thought of Carlyle's phrasing
"Her feet to fall on softness; her eyes t
ight on splendor," a creature fitted only to
adorn the upholstered places of life.
"Did you ever see that dreadful 'blowou
hing?" Jerry asked, coming back from th
recollection of limousine cars and CousiGene of Philadelphia.
"No, I have only been here a short tim
myself, and the country is almost as new
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o me as it is to you," Laura Macpherso
replied.
"Oh, it is such an awful place!" Jerrcontinued. "Everywhere and everywher
one can see nothing but great sand-wave
all over the land. They have almost burie
he palisades that protect the railroad. Iust seemed like the Red Sea dividing t
et the Israelites go through, only this wa
red-hot sand held back to let the train pas
hrough a deep rift. And to-day the windhad filled up the tracks so it couldn't g
hrough until the sand was cleaned ou
There is only one kind of shrub, a spin
ooking thing, growing anywhere on alhose useless acres. It is a perfectly horri
country! Why was such land ever made?
Jerry turned to York with the question.
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"I can't tell you," York said, "but there are
some good things here."
"Yes, there is my claim," Jerry broke in"It's all I have left, you know. Cousi
Gene tried to persuade me it would b
better off without me, but I'm sure it mus
need the owner's oversight to make ireally profitable. There was no record, i
settling up the estate, of its havin
produced any income at all. I certainl
need the income now. Taking care omyself is a new experience for me."
All the vivacity and hopefulness of yout
was in her words. But the dreamexpression on her face that came and wen
with her moods soon returned.
"Cousin Gene Wellington is not my rea
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cousin, you know. He is Uncle Darby'
relative, not Aunt Jerry's. He is an artist
but without any income right now, lik
myself. Both of us have to learn how to galone, you see, but I'm not going back t
Philadelphia now, no matter what Aun
Jerry Darby may say."
This was no appeal for sympathy. Taking
care of oneself seemed easy enough t
Lesa Swaim's child, to whom the Wes
promised only one grand romantiadventure. There was something, too, i
he tone in which she pronounced the nam
of Gene Wellington that seemed to set i
off from every other name. And shpronounced it often enough to troubl
York Macpherson. No other name came s
easily and so frequently and frankly to he
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ips.
"We hope you will like the West. The
Sage Brush isn't so bad when you geacclimated to its moods," York assured
her. "But don't expect too much at first
nor too definite a way of securing a
ncome."
Only Laura Macpherson caught the sam
minor chord of anxiety in her brother'
voice that she recalled had been in it whehe told her of Jerry's claim. It seeme
mpossible, however, that anything could
refuse to be profitable for this charming
blossomy kind of a girl who must thrivon easy success or perish, like a flower.
"Oh, land always means an income, m
father used to say. Aunt Jerry has only two
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hundred acres, but it is a fortune to her,
he girl declared. "I'm not uneasy. As soon
as I get a real hold on my property here I'l
be all right. It is getting late. I must gnow. No, I am going by myself," sh
declared, prettily, as York prepared to
accompany her back to the hotel. "It i
straight up this light street and I am goino try it alone from the very beginning
That's why I didn't go to your office a
soon as I got here to-day. I told Cousi
Gene I could take care of myself and mak
my own way out here, just as he is makin
his own way in the East, working in hi
studio. No, you shall not go with meThank you so much. No. Good-by." Thi
o York Macpherson, who was wise
enough to catch the finality of her words.
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The twilight was almost gone, but a youn
moon in the west made the street still ligh
as the two on the porch watched the gir
going firm-footed and unafraidunconscious of their anxiety for what la
n the days before her.
"Is it courage, or contempt for the Westhat makes her fearless where one woul
expect her to be timid? She seems
combination of ignorance an
assertiveness and a plea for sympathy aln one," Laura Macpherson declared.
"She is the child of two differen
emperaments—Jim one, and Lesanother; a type all her own, but taking o
something of each parent," York asserted
as he watched until the girl ha
disappeared at the door of th
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Commercial Hotel, far up the street.
The next day was an unusual one for fou
people in New Eden. The wind came frohe east, driving an all-day rain before it
and York Macpherson did not go to the
upper Sage Brush country. Instead, h
worked steadily in his office all daySome files he had not opened for month
were carefully gone over, and township
maps were much in evidence. Every now
and then he glanced toward the uppewindows of the Commercial Hotel. Mr
Ponk had said that Jerry had No. 7, th
room he had occupied for several years
He wondered if this rain was making hehomesick for the Winnowoc Valley and
"Eden" and that wonderful Cousin Gene
blast him! There was a smile in York's
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eyes whenever he looked across the street
When he turned to his work again his fac
was stern. What he thought was
determination not to be bothered by rainyday loafers coming into his office, wha
made him set his teeth and grip to hi
work, was really the fight with
emptation to go over to the hotel and looafter a homesick girl.
Meantime Jerry Swaim, snug in a film
gray kimona with pink facings and sofgray slippers, was enjoying the day to th
full limit. Secure from strangers, relaxe
from the weariness of travel, she slep
dreamlessly, and wakened, pink andrested, to watch the cool, life-giving rain
and dream her wonderful day-dream
wherein new adventure, victory ove
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obstacles, and Eugene each played a par
Jerry was in love with life. Sunshine an
rain, wind and calm, every season, wer
made to serve her, all things in nature tobring her interest and pleasure—all excep
sand . That hot hour and a half betwee
sand-leaguered palisades seared he
memory. But that was all down-streanow, with the junction station, and th
country Thelma, and the tow-heade
woman and flabby flopping baby, and th
ittle old Teddy Bear humping his yellow
brown fuzziness against the swirl o
cinders and prairie dust. The recollectio
of it all was like the touch of a live coaon the cool surface of her tranquil soul,
hing abhorred that yet would not b
uncreated nor forgotten.
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"To-morrow will be Sunday." The little
pagan would have one more idle day. "I'l
get a letter from Eugene on Monday. O
Monday," dreamily, "I'll beg into livehere, not stay here. What charming folk
he Macphersons are! and—so different."
There was a difference. Jerry did noknow, nor care to analyze it, nor explai
o herself, why these two people had i
hemselves alone begun to make New
Eden worth while for her. She for whohings, human and otherwise, ha
heretofore been created—all except sand
The third New-Edenite who had somspecial interests on this rainy day wa
Junius Brutus Ponk. Often an idler in th
Macpherson Company's office, he wa
always interesting to York. There were
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one caller whom "chilling winds no
poisonous breath" could never halt—Mrs
Stellar Bahrr, otherwise—"the Bi
Dipper"—the town gossip.
Mrs. Stellar Bahrr was a married
widowed-by-divorce, old-maid type, buil
ike a sky-scraper, of the lean, uncertaiage just around sixty, with the roundnes
of youth all gone, and the plump beauty o
matronliness all lacking, wrinkled wit
envy and small malice, living on repeatinwhat New Eden wanted kept untold
Hiding what New Eden should hav
known of her, she maintained herself on
pension from some one, known only tYork Macpherson, and the small income
derived just now from trimming over las
year's hats "to make them look like four
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year-olds," York declared.
The real milliner of the town was a brisk
bright business woman who had StellaBahrr on her trail in season and out o
season. Mrs. Bahrr herself could not hav
kept up a business of any kind for a week
for she changed callings almost with thmoon's phases.
o more unwelcome caller could hav
ntruded on the homey, delicious, rainyday seclusion of "Castle Cluny."
"I jis' run in to see the hat again you'r
goin' to wear to-morrow, Miss Laury.
ain't got more 'n a minute. Ye ain't alone
his dreary day, are ye? The Lenwells wa
sayin' last night your brother was goin' t
he upper Sage Brush on some busines
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with the Posers. But they're in town, rain
as it is, an' all. Did he go?"
"No, he put it off till Monday," Laurreplied, wondering what interest York's
going or coming could be to Stellar Bahrr
"As I was sayin', the Posers is in town
Come to meet Nell and her baby. The
come in on the freight yesterday. Th
biggest, bald-headest young un you eve
see. Nell wants her hat fixed over, andnothin' on the livin' earth to fix it with, ne
money to pay for it. I'll make ol' Poser d
hat, though. Lemme see your hat, so's
can get an idy or two. You've got somecommodation, if that blamed millinery
store hain't. Thank ye for the favor."
Stellar had a way of pinning her eye
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hrough one until her victim could no
squirm. She also had a way of talking s
much she gave the impression of runnin
down and the promise of a speedy leaveaking, which she never took until she ha
gained all the information she wanted. He
alent in a good cause would have bee
nvaluable, for she was shrewd, patientand everlastingly persistent.
Laura Macpherson reluctantly left th
room to get her hat, wondering, since ihad not been out of the box before, how i
he world Stellar Bahrr knew anythin
about it. Mrs. Bahrr was standing by th
dining-room window when she returned.
"I jis' come out here to see if the Sag
Brush is raisin' down yonder. Who is tha
strange girl Ponk's running around wit
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ast night?" The gossip turned the questio
suddenly. "I seen 'em comin' up her
myself. Folks down-town don't know yet.
The sharp, steel-pointed eyes caught intLaura like hooks.
"I don't—believe you'll like this hat.
Laura had meant to say, "I don't intend toell you," but she was hooked too quickly.
"Who'd you say she is?"
There was no courteous way out now.
"She is a Miss Swaim."
"Say, this hat's a jew'l. Looks younger 'he girls' hats does on 'em. Where's sh
from?"
"East. This color is a bit trying for me,
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hink."
"Oh, no 'tain't! What's she here for?"
"I—You'll have to ask York." Laurarolled her burdens on her brother'
shoulders, as did likewise the remainde
of New Eden, when crowded to the wall.
"York! She ain't after him, I hope. Don
blush so. That's a good one on York. An
he never met her at the station, even. Pon
—little fiend" (Ponk always turned game
cock when Stellar approached him), "littl
devil he is—he telephoned in from dow
at the sidin', by the deep fishin'-hole."
Mrs. Bahrr caught her breath and bit he
ips as she eyed her hostess slyly. Laur
Macpherson was white with disgust an
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anger. Of all the long-tongues, here wa
he queen.
"Where's the deep fishing-hole?" shasked, innocently, to get her unpleasan
caller on another tack.
For a moment Mrs. Bahrr did not reply
busying herself with examining the new
hat's lining and brim-curves. If Laura ha
known what York Macpherson knew she
would have realized that here was thplace to score by dwelling on the deep
fishing-hole. But Laura was new to Sag
Brush traditions.
"Ponk calls in to have his spanky new
runabout all ready at the station. Georg
nearly busted hisself gettin' there. The
Ponk, the miserable brute, he hangs aroun
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and keeps Miss Swine—"
"Swaim, Geraldine Swaim," Laura cried
n disgust."Yes, Geraldine Swim—keeps her inside
so's nobody gets a good look at her. I wa
here myself, a-watchin' him. I'd gone t
see if my fish 'd been sent up, an' whe
hey'd all cleared out he trots her out, bi
as Cuffey, and races to the hotel with her
Maybe, though, York didn't know she wacomin', or had Ponk put up to lookin' afte
her for him. You never can tell about these
men. I noticed York never walked home
with her last night, neither. 'Course it waight as day. Well, well, it's interestin' as
can be. An' she come here purpose to se
your brother, too."
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"If you are through with my hat"—Laur
was fairly gray with anger and her eye
flashed as she tried to control herself.
obody was wiser than Stellar Bahrr i
situations like this.
"In jest a minute. Them's the dainties
roses yet. Thank you, Miss Laury. You
ain't above helping a person like me
There's them that is here in New Eden. Bu
know 'em—I know 'em. They talk to youback and never say a word to your face
not a blamed word. But you're not lik
em. Everybody says you're just like you
brother, an' that's enough for anybody toknow in the Sage Brush country. He's been
he best friend I ever had, I know that.
hope that pink-'n'-white city girl 'll fin
out that much pretty quick. Somebod
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That rainy day ended with a problem i
he minds of at least three New Ede
dwellers: York Macpherson, who carried
a bigger load now than Joe Thomson'unwise but determined mortgage matter
Junius Brutus Ponk, who was sharin
York's problem to a degree, and Laura
Macpherson, who realized that malicious under-current was alread
started whose undermining influence migh
sooner or later grow into a menacin
power.
And Jerry Swaim, unconscious cause o
all this problem element, ate and slept an
aughed and dreamed her pretty daydreams in utter content. It was well tha
he next day was Sunday. The rain-washed
prairie and the June sunshine did so muc
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o lift the tension in this New Eden wher
even the good little snakes are not alway
so very good.
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VI
PARADISE LOST
Laura Macpherson came through thdining-room on Monday morning with he
hands full of wild flowers.
"Wherefore?" York asked, seeing thebreakfast-table already decorated with
vase of sweet-peas.
"Just a minute, York. I got these with thedew on them—all prairie flowers.
hought Jerry might be up to see me to-day
went out after them for her," Laur
explained, as she arranged the show
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blossoms in vases about the rooms.
York dropped behind his day-old paper
calling after her, indifferently: "I doubt ihey are worth it. You must have gone to
he far side of 'Kingussie' for them.
doubt, too, if she comes here to-day, but
haven't any doubt that I am hungry anikely to get hungrier before you get read
for breakfast."
"Coming, coming." Laura came hastily the table. "I forgot you in my interest i
Jerry."
"A prevalent disease in New Eden righ
now," York said, behind his paper. "Ponk
nearly fell down on getting me a chauffeu
for to-day; the superintendent didn't get th
quarterlies to our Sunday-school class o
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ime yesterday morning; the Big Dippe
ook the wrong pew and kept it, and now
my breakfast must wait—all on account o
his Jerry girl."
"Mournful, mournful!" Laura declared
"Such a little girl, too! I'd like to tell yo
what your Big Dipper said about JerrSaturday, but I mustn't."
"Saturday was a rainy day," York
commented, knowing Laura would answeno questions if he should ask them now.
"All the more reason why the Big Dippe
should come over to copy my new hat fo
one of the Poser girls up the Sage Brush
and then fall to questions an
conclusions," Laura insisted.
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"I thought yesterday was the grand openin
for that lid of yours. Where did the B. D
see it?" York would not ask for what he
wanted most to know.
"It had positively never been out of th
box since it came here," Laura declared
"But pshaw, York, it is the gossip youwant to know, and I'm really concerned
about that."
"I'm not. I am really concerned abouwhere Stellar Bahrr saw your hat." York
was very serious and his sister wa
puzzled for the minute. He never looke
hat way when he joked—never.
"I don't know anything about Mrs. Bahrr'
gift of second sight, York; I'm simply
elling what I do know. That hat-box wa
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not opened. Let's talk of better things. Mr
Ponk told me at church yesterday tha
when Jerry first came she asked for 'a
old gentleman named York Macpherson.'Laura's eyes were twinkling wit
mischief. "From what she said to m
yesterday she is going to depend on yo
for direction, just like everybody else whcomes to New Eden. I'm dead in love wit
her already. Aren't you?"
"Desperately," York returned. "Buseriously, Laura, she is 'most too big
responsibility to joke about. There are
ot of things tied up for her in this comin
West. I have to go to the upper Sage Brushhis morning to be gone for a couple o
days. I wish she would come here and sta
with you, so that she might be with th
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best woman in the world." York beamed
affectionately upon the sweet-face
woman opposite him. "I wish I didn't hav
o leave this morning, but I'll be back bo-morrow night or early Wednesday
morning. It is going to be our job to map
out her immediate future. After that, thing
will take their course without us, and NewEden, I imagine, will have to get alon
without her. When I get back I'll take he
down to see her claim. Ponk is the onl
man besides myself who knows where i
s, and I've fixed him. He can't run a hote
and garage and play escort all at once.
want to prepare her in a way, anyhow, foshe won't find exactly what she i
expecting—another 'Eden' six time
enlarged. Meantime turn her gently, if yo
can, toward our woolly Western life.
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won't say lead. Geraldine Swaim, late o
Philadelphia, will never be led."
"York she's a lamb. Look at her bigpleading eyes," his sister insisted.
"Laura, she's a rock. Look at her squar
chin. I'm going now, and I will and
bequeath her to your care. Good-by."
As he left the house his sister heard hi
whistling the air to the old song, "I'l
paddle my own canoe."
Evidently the fair Philadelphian was stil
on his mind.
"I wish," he said to himself, as he cleare
he north limits of the New Ede
settlement and struck out toward the uppe
Sage Brush country—"I wish to goodnes
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had pressed Laura to tell me more abou
what that infernal Big Dipper said to he
Saturday. I'll get that creature yet.
believe she knows that as well as I do. wish, too, I was sure things would jus
stay put until I get back."
Half an hour after York had left townJerry Swaim, dressed for a drive
appeared at the door of Ponk's garage.
"Have you a good little runabout that could hire this morning? I want to go ou
nto the country," she said to th
proprietor.
"Why, yes, Miss Swaim, but I 'ain't got no
shofer this morning. York Macpherson, he
ook my last man and soared up th
country, and they won't be back for
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couple of days. I'm sorry, but could you
wait till, say, about a-Thursday, or mebby
a-Friday?"
Ponk's cheerful grin always threatened t
eclipse his eyes, but this morning ther
was something anxious back of hi
cheerfulness. Nature had made him in oking mood, round eyed, round headed
round bodied, talkative, and pompous i
an inverse ratio to his size. But there wa
something always good and reliable abouPonk, and with all his superficiality, too
here was a real depth to the man, and
keener insight than anybody in New Eden
except York Macpherson, ever gave himcredit for having.
"I'm sorry I've got no shofer. There was
run on the livery business this morning fo
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some reason. That's why I'm office-bo
here now, 'stead of runnin' the office nex
door," Ponk explained, as blandly and
conclusively as possible.
"I don't want a chauffeur at all. I driv
myself," Jerry declared.
"You say you do?" Ponk stared at her little
hands in their close-fitting white gauntlets
"Now I'd never thought that. Yes," weakly
"I've got a dandy car for them that can us
t, which is mostly me. It's the little gra
gadabout we come up from the station i
he other evening. There ain't another on
ike it this side of the Mississippi River—
S'liny, Kansas, anyhow. You see, I have to
be awful particular. I don't want i
smashed against a stone wall or run off o
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some bridge."
"I've never done that with a car yet. And
used to drive our big eight-cylindemachine over all kinds of Pennsylvani
roads."
The blue eyes were full of pathos as th
memory of her home and all its luxurie
swept over Jerry. And Ponk understood.
"We don't have no stone walls out here
and there ain't no bridges, either, excep
across the Sage Brush in a few places
because there ain't never water enough ou
here to bridge over. Yes, you may take the
gadabout. I just know you'll be carefu
That little car's just like a colt, an
noways bridle-wise under a woman'
hand."
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"Thank you. I'll take no risks."
When Jerry was seated in the shining gra
car, with her hand on the wheel, shurned to Mr. Ponk.
"By the way, do you know who owns an
of the claims, as you call them, in thi
valley?" she asked. "I was going to spea
o Mr. Macpherson, but you say he ha
gone out of town."
"Yes'm." Ponk fairly swelled with
mportance. "I know every claim, and wh
owns it, from the hills up yonder clear t
he mouth of that stream. My hotel an
ivery business together keeps me as wel
posted as the Macpherson Mortgag
Company that holds a mortgage on most o
hem."
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"Can you tell me where to find the on
belonging to the estate of the late Jeremia
Swaim, of Philadelphia?" Jerry asked, i
a low voice.
The short little man beside the car looke
away in pity and surprise as he said:
"Yes'm, I can. You follow this street south
and keep on till you come to where th
Sage Brush makes a sharp bend to th
east, right at a ranch-house. From theryou leave the trail (we still call tha
down-stream road 'the trail') and strik
across to three big cottonwood-trees on
kind of a knoll, considerable distancaway. You can't miss 'em, for you can see
em for miles. And then"—Ponk hesitated
as if trying to remember—"seems to m
you turn, bias'n' like, southeast a bit, an
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head for a little bunch of low oaks. Fro
here you run your eye around and figge
how many acres you can see. An', it's al
Jeremiah Swaim's, or his heirs anassignees. But, say, you ain't any kin to th
ate Mr. Swaim, who never seen that land
of hisn, I reckon? I hadn't thought abou
your names being the same. Odd I didn't."
There was something wistful in the quer
which Jerry set down merely as plebeia
curiosity, but she answered, courteously:
"Yes, he was my father. The land belong
o me."
"Say, hadn't you better wait and let York
Macpherson soar down with you?" Pon
suggested. "It might be better, after all
mebby, not to go alone to spy out the land
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even if you can drive yourself. Seems t
me York said he'd be goin' down that way
he last of the week. I do wish you'd wai
for York to go with you first."
"I want to go alone," Jerry replied, an
with a deft hand she made the difficul
curve to the street, leaving the proprietoof the garage staring after her.
"Well, by heck! she can run a ca
anyhow!" he exclaimed, as he watched hespeeding away. "Smart as her dad,
reckon. Mebby a little smarter."
All of Lesa Swaim's love of romanti
adventure was shining on Jerry Swaim'
bright face as she came upon Laur
Macpherson on the cool side porch a few
minutes later.
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gave me directions so I can't miss the way
Good-by."
The trail down the Sage Brush was full odelight this morning for the young Easter
girl who sent her car swiftly along th
evel road, almost forgetting th
andmarks of the way in the exhilaration oyouth and June-time. And, however out o
place she might seem on the Western
prairie, no one could doubt her ability t
handle a car.
"'Where the stream bends sharp to the eas
away from a ranch-house,'" Jerry wa
quoting Ponk. "I'm sure I can't miss it if follow his directions and the stream an
bend and house and cottonwood-trees an
oak-grove are really there. I love oaks an
hope my woodland is full of them. Ther
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must be a woodland on my farm, even i
he trees are few and small and scattere
here, so far as I have seen. But there wa
really something pitiful in the little man'eyes when he was talking to me. Maybe h
s a wee bit envious of my possessions
Some men are jealous of women wh
have property. No doubt my workmen wilneed managing, and some adjusting to
new head of affairs. I'll be ver
considerate with them, but they mus
respect my authority. I wish Gene wa
with me this morning."
Then she fell to musing.
"I wonder what message Gene will sen
me, and whether he will write it himself
or, as he suggested, will send it throug
Aunt Jerry's letters to York. It was hi
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original way of doing to say I'd find thing
out through Aunt Jerry, when she probably
won't write me a line for a long time.
know Gene will choose nobly, and I knoweverything will turn out all right at last....
wonder if my place is as beautiful as this
How I wish Gene could see it with hi
artist eyes."
Jerry brought her engine down to slow
speed as she passed a thrifty ranch-hous
where barns and clustering silos, anfields of grain and cattle-dotted prairie
outlying all, betokened the possibilities o
he Sage Brush Valley. The blue eyes o
Lesa Swaim's daughter were full odreamy light as she paused to picture her
he possibilities of her own possessions.
At the crest of a low ridge the roa
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forked, one branch wandering in and ou
among the small willow-trees along th
river, and the other cutting clean and
broad across the rougher open lanswelling away from the narrowed valley.
"Here's something Mr. Junius Brutus Pon
eft out of his map. I'll take the rim road; iooks the more inviting," Jerry decided
because the way of least resistance ha
been her life-road always.
This one grew narrow and clung close t
he water's side. Its sandy bed was dam
and firm, and the slender trees on eithe
side here and there almost touchebranches overhead. Mile after mile i
seemed to stretch without another give
andmark to show Jerry her destination
Beyond where the road curved sharpl
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around a thicket of small trees an
underbrush Jerry halted her car. Befor
her the waters of the river rippled int
foam against a rocky ledge that helped tform a deep hole above it. Below, th
stream was shallow, and in dr
midsummer here offered rough stepping
stones across it. It was a lonely spot, withe river on one side and a tangle o
bushes and tall weeds on the other, and th
curves along the roadway, filled wit
underbrush and low timber shutting off th
view up-stream and down-stream.
At the coming of Jerry's car a man wh
had been kneeling over some fishing-lineat the river's edge rose up beside the road
brushing the wet sand from his clothes
and staring at her. He was small and old
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and stooped and fuzzy, and thoroughl
unpretty to see.
"It's the Teddy Bear who 'sat in the sandand the sun' coming up from that horri
railroad junction. Who's afraid of bears
'll ask him how to find my lost empire."
Jerry did not reflect that it was th
unconscious effect of this humbl
creature's thoughtfulness for her that mad
her unafraid of him in this lonely spotReflection was not yet one of her activ
psychological processes.
"I want to find a ranch-house by a bi
bend in the river where it turns east,
Jerry said, looking at the man much as sh
would look at the bend in the river—
merely for the information to be furnished
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He pushed his brown cap back from hi
forehead and rubbed his finger
houghtfully through his thin sunburnt hair.
"It's Joe's place, eh?" the high, quaverin
voice squeaking like an unused machin
afraid of itself. "You'd ought to took the
'other fork of the road back yander. It's goodish mile on down this way now t
where you das to turn your cyar round
When you get where you kin turn, then g
back and take the t'other fork. It'll take yoright to Joe's door about."
The words came hesitatingly, as if th
speaker had little use for sounding them ihis solitary, silent life. Fishermen don
catch fish by talking to them.
"A mile! I think I'll turn right here," Jerr
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declared.
Then, as the meek unknown watched her i
open-mouthed wonder, she swung her cadeftly about, the outer wheels barel
keeping a toe-hold on the edge of th
river-bank, with hardly more than an inc
of space between them and the crumblinsand above the water. As she faced the
way over which she had come she reache
out to drop a piece of silver into the man'
hand. He let it fall to the ground, thepicked it up and laid it on the top of th
car door.
"I ain't workin' for the gov'mint," hquavered. "I thankee, but I don't have n
knowin's to sell. Ye're welcome to my
ketch of information any day ye're on th
river."
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He made an odd half-military salut
oward his old yellow-brown cap an
shuffled across the road toward a narrow
path running back through the bushes.
At the bend in the river Jerry foun
herself.
"That must be the ranch-house that Mr
Ponk gave me for a landmark, for ther
goes the river bending east, all right. Wha
a quaint, picturesque thing that is, anbuilt of stone, too, with ivy all over it! I
must have been here a long time. And how
well kept everything is! The old Teddy
Bear said it was 'Joe's place.' Well, Joekeeps it looking as different from some o
he places I've passed as 'Eden' differ
from other country-places back i
Pennsylvania."
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The long, low, stone ranch-house, nestlin
under its sheltering vines, had an old an
familiarly homey look to Jerry.
"That wide porch is a dream. I'll have on
ust like it on my place. I wonder if thi
farm has any name. I suppose not. Wha
shall I call mine? 'New Eden' wouldn't doof course. I might call it 'Paradise Prairie
That's pretty and smooth. Gene would lik
hat, and talk a lot about going 'fro
ature up to Nature's God.' I don't care whiff about all his religious talk
somehow. That's just one thing wherei
we will never agree. If I can go fro
nature to the finished produce I'll bsatisfied. Oh, yonder are my three trees."
At the bend of the Sage Brush Jerry lef
he stream road and sped across a lon
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evel swell toward three cottonwood
rees standing sentinel on a small rise o
he prairie. From there she was to see th
oak-grove, the center of her own richoldings. Oh, Jerry!
Down under the spreading oaks a youn
man in rough ranchman's dress stoo
eaning against a low bough, absorbed ihought. He was tall, symmetrically built
and strong of muscle, without a pound o
superfluous fat to suggest anything of eas
and idleness in his day's run. Some of thines that mark the stubborn will wer
graven in his brown face, but the eye
were all-redeeming. Even as he stared ou
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with unseeing gaze, lost in his ow
houghts, the smile that lighted the
hovered ready to illuminate what migh
otherwise have been a severcountenance.
n all the wide reach of level land ther
was no other living creature in sight. Thbreeze pulsing gently through the oa
boughs poured the sunlight noiselessl
down on the shadow-cooled grass abou
he tree-trunks. The freshness of thmorning lingered in the air of the grove.
Suddenly the young man caught the soun
of an automobile coasting down the lonslide from the three cottonwoods, an
urned to see a young girl in a shining gra
car gliding down into the edge of th
shade. A soft hat of Delft-blue
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ornamented, valkyrie-wise, with tw
white wings; golden-gleaming hai
overshadowing a face full of charm; blu
eyes; cheeks of peach-blossom pink; firmred lips; a well-defined chin and whit
hroat; a soft gown, Delft-blue in color
and white gauntlet gloves—all these wer
n the blurred picture of that confusemoment.
As for Jerry Swaim, all farmer fol
ooked alike to her. It was not the suddeappearance of a stranger, but th
andscape beyond him, that held he
speechless, until the shrill whistle of
rain broke the silence.
"Is that the Sage Brush Railroad so near?
she asked, at last, with no effort at forma
greeting.
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"Yes, ma'am. It is just behind the
palisades over there. You can't see it from
here because the sand-drifts are so high
That's the morning freight now."
The light died out of Jerry Swaim's eyes
he pink bloom faded to ivory in he
cheeks, even the red lips grew pale, as shstared at the scene before her. For the oak
grove stood a lone outpost of greennes
defending a more or less fertil
countryside from a formless, senselesmonster beyond it. Jerry had picture
herself standing in the very center of he
heritage, where she might "run her eye
around," as Ponk had said, "and figurhow many acres she could see, and the
were all hers." And now she was here.
Wide away before her eyes rippled acr
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on acre, all hers, and all of billowin
sand, pointed only by a few stragglin
green shrubs. The glare of the sunlight o
t was intolerable, and the north windsweeping cool and sweet under the oak
rees, brought no comfort to this glarin
desert.
Suddenly she recalled the pitying look i
Ponk's eyes when he had begged her t
wait for York Macpherson to come with
her to this place, and she had thought hmight be envious of her good fortune. And
hen she remembered that Laur
Macpherson had put up the same plea fo
York. He was the shield and buckler foall New Eden, it would seem. And th
hree, Laura and York and Ponk, all knew
and were pitying her, Jerry Swaim, who
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had been envied many a time, but never
never pitied. Even in the loss of th
Swaim estate in Philadelphia, Mrs
Jerusha Darby had made it clear to everone that her pretty niece was still to b
envied as a child of good fortune.
Flinging aside her hat and glovesunconscious of the stray sunbeams siftin
down through the oak boughs on he
golden hair, Jerry Swaim gazed toward
he railroad with wide-open, burning eyesand her white face was pitiful to see. A
ength she turned to the young man wh
still stood leaning against the oak boug
beyond her car, waiting for her to speak.
"Can I be of any service to you?" h
asked, courteously.
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"Who are you?" Jerry questioned, wit
unconscious bluntness.
"My name is Joe Thomson." The smile ihis eyes lighted his face as he spoke.
"Tell me all about this place, won't you?
Jerry demanded, pointing toward th
gleaming sands. "Was it always like this
here? I thought when the Lord finished th
earth He looked on His work and found i
good. Did He overlook this spot?"
Surprise and sarcasm and bitte
disappointment were all in her tone as sh
asked these questions.
Joe Thomson frowned as he replied:
"It wasn't an oversight at all. There was
fine piece of prairie here until a few year
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ago, with only one little sandy stri
zigzagging across it. Ages back, there ma
have been a stream along that low plac
yonder that dried up and blew away somime, when the forest fires changed th
prehistoric woodlands into prairies.
can't be accurate about geology and suc
hings if history and the Scriptures arsilent on these fine points."
Joe Thomson still stood leaning agains
he oak limb. The confusion of meetinhis handsome stranger had passed. H
was in his own territory now, talking o
hings of which he knew. He knew, too
how to put his thoughts into goodexpressive English.
"There are beautiful farms up the river—
ranches, I mean. What has changed thi
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prairie to such an awful place?" Jerr
questioned, eagerly.
"Eastern capital and lack of brains anenergy," Joe answered her. "It is just a
blowout, that's all. It began in that sand
strip in that low place along over there b
he railroad, where, as I say, some oldriver-bed, maybe the Sage Brush, migh
have been long ago before it made that bi
bend in its course up by my buildings. A
crazy, money-mad fool from back Eascame out here and plowed up all thi
ground one dry season, a visionary fellow
who dreamed of getting a fortune from th
and without any labor. And when thehing began to look like real work he cu
he whole game, just like a lot of othe
fools have done, and went back East
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eaving all these torn, unsodded acres
plaything for the winds. There were thre
or four dry seasons right after that, and th
soil all went to dust and blew away. Buhe sand grew, and multiplied, and surged
over the face of this particular spot of th
Lord's earth until it has come to be a tyran
of power, covering all this space andspreading slowly northward up over th
next claim. That's mine."
"What is it doing to your land?" Jerrasked.
"Ruining it," Joe replied, calmly.
"And you don't go mad?" the girl cried
mpulsively.
"We don't go mad on the Sage Brush til
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he last resort, and we don't often come t
hat. When we can't do one thing, ou
West, we do another. That's all there is to
t." The smile was in his eyes again as Josaid this.
"Do you know who owns this groun
now?" Jerry tried to ask as carelessly apossible.
"An estate back in Pennsylvania,
believe," Joe replied.
"What is it worth?" Jerry's voice wa
hardly audible.
"Look at it. What do you think it is worthas a whole, or cut up into town lots for
summer resort?" Joe demanded.
n spite of his calmness there was
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harshness in his voice, and his eyes wer
stern.
Jerry twisted her white hands helplessly"I don't know—anything worth knowing,
she said, faintly, looking full into th
young man's face for the first time.
Afterward she remembered that he wa
powerfully built, that his eyes were dark
and that his teeth showed white and even
as he repeated, with a smile:
"You don't know anything worth knowing
You don't quite look the part."
"Why don't you answer my question?"
Back of the light in Jerry's eyes Joe saw
hat the tears were waiting, and somethin
n her face hurt him strangely.
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"I think this claim is not worth—a
effort," he declared, frankly, looking out a
he wind-heaved ridges of sand.
"What brought you here to look at i
hen?" Jerry demanded.
"Partly to despise the fool who owned i
and let it become a curse."
"Do you know him?" the girl inquired.
"No. But if I did I should despise him jushe same," Joe Thomson declared.
"What if he were dead?" Jerry asked.
"Pardon me, but may I ask what brough
you down here to look at such a place?
Joe interrupted her.
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"I came down here to find out its value. I
belongs to me. My only inheritance. I hav
always lived in a big city until now, and
know little of country life except itbeauty and comfort, and nothing at all o
he West. But I can understand you when
you say that this claim is not worth a
effort. I hope I shall never, never see iagain. Good-by."
The firm, red lips quivered and the blu
eyes looked up through real tears as JerrSwaim drew on her gloves and fitted th
soft blue hat down on the golden glory o
her hair. Then without another word sh
urned her car about and sped away.
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II
JERRY AND JOE
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VII
UNHITCHING THE
WAGON FROM A STAR
How long is a mid-June day? Ticked of
by the almanac, it is so much time as lie
between the day-dawn and the dark o
evening. But Jerry Swaim lived a lifetim
n that June day in which she went out t
enter upon her heritage. From the momen
she had turned away from the younfarmer under the oak-trees until sh
reached the forks of the road again she di
not take cognizance of a single object. Th
hree big cottonwood sentinels, the vine
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covered ranch-home, the deep bend of th
Sage Brush to the eastward, were passe
unnoted. Ponk's gray gadabout seemed t
know the way home like a faithful horse.
There was no apparent reason why th
unction of the two highways should hav
momentarily called the bewilderedisappointed girl to her calmer self. N
more was there anything logical in he
choosing to turn again down the narrow
river road. The lone old fisherman wahe farthest down in the scale fro
Geraldine Swaim of any human being wh
had ever shown her a favor. He could no
have had any interest for her.... But YorkMacpherson was correct in his estimate o
Jerry. She was a type in herself alone. Sh
drove far beyond the narrow place by th
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deep hole where, with accurate eye an
clear skill, she had played a game o
chance with the river and fate an
guardian angels. Her tires had cut a widecurving gash across the sand of the road.
"My gracious alive! that was a clos
urn!" she exclaimed, as she caught sighof her wheel-marks. "No wonder the ol
Teddy Bear looked scared. One inch o
ess! Well, there was that inch. But wha
for? To enter on my vast landed—vassanded—estate in the kingdom o
Kansas!"
Jerry smiled grimly in ridicule of hefoolish, defrauded self. Then in
desperate effort to blot out of mind wha
she had seen she hurled the gray car madl
forward. With the bewildered gropings o
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a shipwrecked landsman she wa
struggling to get her bearings, she fo
whom the earth had been especiall
designed. As the hours passed the roadbecame dry and sunny, with the nort
breeze tempering the air to the coolness o
a rare Kansas June day, entirely unlike th
hot and windy one on which Jerry had firscome up this valley. She did not, i
reality, cover many miles now, because
she made long stops in sheltered place
and at times let the gray machine merel
creep on the sunny stretches, but in he
mind she had girdled the universe.
n the late afternoon she turned abouwearily, as one who has yet many league
of ground to cover before nightfall. Th
sunlight glistened along the surface of th
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river and a richer green gleamed in wha
had been the shadowy places earlier in th
day; but the driver in the car paid littl
heed to the lights and shadows of the way
"If a man went right with himself.
Cornelius Darby's words came driftin
across the girl's mind. "Poor UnclCornie! He didn't begin to live, to me
until he was gone. Maybe he knew what i
meant for a man not to go right wit
himself. And if a woman went right withherself!"
Jerry halted her car again by the deep hol
and looked at nothing where the SagBrush waters were rippling over the roug
edge in its bed. For the first time sinc
she had sat under the oak-trees and looke
at the acres that were hers, Jerry Swai
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really found herself on solid ground again
The bloom came slowly back to the ash
cheeks, and the light into the dark-blu
eyes.
"If I can only go right with myself, I shal
not fail. I need time, that's all. There wil
be a letter from Eugene waiting when I geback to town, and that will make up for
ot. There must be some way out of all th
mistakes, too. It wasn't my land that I saw
Mr. Ponk must have directed me wronglyThat country fellow may not know th
facts. I'll go back and ask York
Macpherson right away. Only, he's gone
out of town for two days. Oh dear!"
She wrung her hands as the picture of tha
oak-grove and all that lay beyond it cam
vividly before her. She tried to forget i
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and for a moment she smiled to hersel
deceivingly, and then—the smile wa
gone and by the determined set of her lip
Jerry was her father's own resolute chilagain.
"I don't exactly know what next, excep
hat I'm hungry. Why, it is five o'clockWhere has this day gone, and where am I
anyhow?"
Her eyes fell on the broad ruts across throad. Then back in the bushes she caught
glimpse of a low roof.
"I smell fish frying. I'll starve to death if
wait to get back to the Commercia
Hotel!" Jerry exclaimed. "Here's th
wayside inn where I find comfort for ma
and beast."
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She called sharply with her horn. In
minute the fuzzy brown fisherman cam
shuffling along the narrow path through th
bushes.
"I'm dreadfully hungry," Jerry said
bluntly.
t did not occur to her to explain to thi
creature why she happened to be here an
hungry at this time. She wanted something
hat was sufficient.
"Can't you let me have some of your fish
am desperate," she went on, smiling a
he surprised face of the man who stare
up at her in silence.
"Yes'm, I can give you what I eat. Just a
minute," he squeaked out, at last. Then h
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shuffled back to where the bit of roo
showed through the leaves.
While the girl waited a tall, slendewoman came around the brushy ben
ahead. She halted in the middle of the roa
and stared a moment at Jerry; then sh
came forward rapidly and passed the cawithout looking up. She wore a plain
grayish-green dress, with a sunbonnet o
he same hue covering her face—all ver
much like the bushes out of which shseemed to have come and into which sh
seemed to melt again. In her hand sh
carried a big parcel lightly, as if it
weight was slight. As Jerry turned andooked after her with a passing curiosity
she saw that the woman was looking bac
also. The young city-bred girl had felt n
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fear of the strange country fellow in th
far-away oak-grove; she had no fear o
his uncouth fisherman in this lonel
hidden place; but when she caught a merglimpse of this woman's eyes staring a
her from under the shadows of the deep
sunbonnet a tremor of real fright shook he
hands grasping the steering-wheel. Ipassed quickly, however, with the
reappearance of the host of the waysid
nn.
"This is delicious," Jerry exclaimed, a
he hard scaly hands lifted a smooth boar
bearing her meal up to her.
Fried fish, hot corn-bread, baked in husk
n the ashes, wild strawberries wit
coarse brown sugar sprinkled on them
and a cup of fresh buttermilk.
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The girl ate with the healthy appetite tha
youth, a long fast, a day in the open, and
well-cooked meal can create. When sh
had finished she laid a silver half-dollaon the board beside the cracked plate.
"'Tain't nuthin'; no, 'tain't nuthin'. I jis
divided with ye," the fisherman insistedshrilly.
"Oh, it is worth a dollar to drink this goo
buttermilk!"
Jerry lifted the cup, a shining silver mug
and turned it in the light. It was of an ol
pattern, with a quaint monogram on on
side.
"This looks like an heirloom," she thought
"Why should a bear with cracked plate
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and iron knives and forks offer me a drin
n a silver cup? There must be a stor
back of it. Maybe he's a nobleman i
disguise. Well, the disguise is perfectAfter all, it's as good as a novel to live i
Kansas."
Jerry slowly sipped the drink as theshoughts ran through her mind. The mea
was helping wonderfully to take the edg
off of the tragedy of the morning. It woul
overwhelm her again later, but in thishady, restful solitude it slipped away.
She smiled down at the old man at th
hought of him in a story. Him! But thsmile went straight to his heart; that wa
Jerry's gift, making him drop his boar
ray and break the cracked plate in hi
confusion.
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"Here's another quarter. That was m
fault," Jerry insisted.
"Oh no'm, no'm! 'Tain't nobody's fault.The voice quavered as the scaly brow
hand thrust back the proffered coin.
Jerry could not understand why thi
creature should refuse her money
Tipping, to her mind, covered all th
obligations her class owed to the lowe
strata of the earth's formation.
At sunset York Macpherson drove into
Ponk's garage.
"Hello, fellow-townsman! You look like a
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sick man!" he exclaimed, as the owner me
him in the doorway.
"I'd 'a' been a dead man if you hadn't comhis minute," Ponk growled back.
"Congratulations! The good die young,
York returned. "I failed to get through to
he place I wanted to see. That Saturda
rain filled the dry upper channels where
bridge would rot in the tall weeds, but a
all-day rain puts a dangerous flood ievery ford, so I came back in time to sav
your life. What's your grievance?"
Ponk's face was agonizing between smile
and tears. "Well, spite of all I, or anybody
could do, Miss Swaim takes my littl
gadabout this morning and makes off wit
t."
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"And broke the wind-shield? I told you t
keep her at home."
York still refused to be serious."I don't know what's broke, except m
feelin's. You tried yet to keep he
anywhere? She would go off to tha
danged infernal blowout section of th
country, and she ain't back yet ."
York Macpherson grasped the little man
by the arm. "Not back yet! Where is she
hen?"
"She ain't; that's all I know," Pon
responded, flatly. "Yes, yes, yonder she isust soarin' into the avenue up by 'Castl
Cluny' this minute. Thank the Lord an' tha
Quaker-colored gadabout!"
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"Tell her I'll see her at the hotel as soon a
get my mail," York said, and he hurried
o his office.
A few minutes later Jerry Swaim brough
he gray runabout up to the doorway of th
garage.
Ponk assisted her from it and took th
ivery hire mechanically.
"Thank you, Miss Swaim. Hope you had
safe day. No'm, that's too much," handin
back a coin of the change. "That's regular
Yes'm." Then, as an afterthought, he
added, with a bow, "York Macpherson
he's in town again, an' he's waitin' to se
you in the hotel 'parlor.'"
"Oh!" a gasp of surprise and relief
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"Thank you, Mr. Ponk. Yes, I have had a
safe day." And Jerry was gone.
The little man stared after her for a fulminute. Then he gave a long whistle.
"She's a Spartan, an' she's goin' to di
game. I'll gamble on that with Rockefeller
This is the rummiest, bummiest world
ever lived in," he declared to himself
"Why the dickens does the blowouts hav
o fall on the just as well as the unjust 'what I respectfully rise to ask of th
Speaker of all good an' perfect gifts. An
'm goin' to keep the floor till I get th
recognition of Chair."
York Macpherson was standing with hi
back to the window, so that his face wa
n the shadow, when Jerry Swaim cam
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nto the little parlor. Her eyes wer
shining, and the pink bloom on her chee
betokened the tenseness of feeling held i
check under a calm demeanor.
"Pardon me for keeping you waiting, Mr
Macpherson. I've been away from tow
all day and I wanted to get my mail beforcame in. I'm a long way from everybody
you know."
There may have been a hint of tears in thvoice, but the blue eyes were very brave.
"And you got it?"
That was not what York meant to say. Iwas well that his face was in the shadow
while Jerry's was in the light. There ar
imes when a man's heart may be cut to th
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quick, and because he is a man he must no
cry out.
"No, not to-day. I don't know why," Jerryreplied, slowly, with a determined set o
her red lips, while the fire in her blue
black eyes burned steadily and the smal
hands gripped themselves together.
"I haven't had a word since I left home
and I had hoped that I might find a lette
waiting for me here."
"Letters are delayed, and letter-writers
oo, sometimes. Maybe they are all bus
with Mrs. Darby's affairs. I remembe
when I was a boy up on the Winnowoc sh
could keep me busier than anybody els
ever did," York offered.
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"It must be that. Of course it must. Aun
Jerry is as industrious as I am idle." Jerr
gave a sigh of relief.
After the strain of this day, it was vastl
comforting to her to stop thinking forward
and just remember how beautiful it mus
be at "Eden" now; and Eugene was thereand it was twilight. But like a hot blast th
memory of the hot sand-heaps of he
anded estate came back.
"Did you want to see me abou
something?" she asked, suddenly. "Mr
Ponk said you did."
"Yes, Jerry. I came here to see you
because my sister and I want you to com
out to our house at once, and I have order
from Laura not to come home withou
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you."
"You are very kind. You know where I
have been to-day?"York smiled. Even in her abstraction Jerry
felt the genial force of that smile. How bi
and strong he was, and there was such
sense of protection in his presence.
"Yes. You denied me the privilege of
escorting you on this journey. I had writte
a full description of your property t
Cornelius Darby, in reply to som
questions of his, but his death must hav
come before the letter reache
Philadelphia. In the mass of busines
matters Mrs. Darby may have missed m
report."
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"She may have," Jerry echoed, faintly. "
cannot say. Then it is my estate that is al
covered with sand, barren and worthles
as a desert? I thought I might have beemistaken."
The hope died out of Jerry's face with th
query.
"I wish I could have saved you thi
surprise," York said, earnestly. "Come
home with me now. 'Castle Cluny' must byour castle, too, as long as you can put up
with us. And you can take plenty of time to
catch your breath. The earth is a big place
and, while most of it is covered witwater, very little of it is covered entirel
with sand."
How kind his tones were! Jerr
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remembered again that both his sister an
Mr. Ponk had urged her to wait for hi
coming. But she was not accustomed t
waiting for anybody. A faint but persistenself-blame gripped her.
"May I stay with you until I find where
really am? Just now I'm all smothered ibewildering sand-dunes." She smiled u
at the tall man before her with a confiding
appealing earnestness.
Many women smiled upon York
Macpherson. Many women confided i
him. He was accustomed to it.
"Laura will consider it a boon, for yo
must know that she sometimes gets a trifl
onely in New Eden. We'll call the
compact finished." Only a graciou
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ntuition could have turned the favor s
graciously back to the recipient. But tha
was York's gift.
n the dining-room at "Castle Cluny" tha
evening Jerry noticed a silver cup with
quaintly designed monogram on one side.
"That's an old heirloom," Laura said, a
she saw her guest's eyes fixed on it. "Lik
everything else in this house, it is couple
up with some old Macpherson claradition, as befitting an old bachelor an
old maid of that ilk."
"We used to have two of them," York
said.
"We have yet somewhere," Laura replied
"I hadn't missed one from the sideboar
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before. It must be back in the silver
closet, with other old silver and ol
memories."
Jerry's day had been full of changes, up
and down, from hope to bitte
disappointment, from reality t
forgetfulness, from clear conception tbewildered confusion, her mind had ru
since she had left the oak-grove in th
forenoon. When she had occasion t
remember that silver cup again, shwondered how she could have passed i
over so lightly at this time.
Although Jerry's problem was very reaand she brought to its solution neithe
experience nor discipline, unselfis
breadth nor spiritual trust, there wa
something in the homey atmosphere o
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"Castle Cluny" that seemed to smoot
away the long day's wrinkles for her. Ou
n the broad porch in the twilight sh
nestled down like a tired child among thcushions, and gazed dreamily out at th
evening landscape. York had been called
away by a neighbor and Laura and he
guest were alone.
"How beautiful it is here!" Jerr
murmured, as the afterglow of a prairi
sunset flooded the sky with a splendor orose and opal and amethyst. "I saw
sunset like that not long ago in an ar
exhibit in Philadelphia. I thought the
here couldn't be such a real sunset. It wan a landscape all yellow-gray and desert
ike. I thought that was impossible, too
've seen both—land and sky—to-day, and
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both are greater than the artist painte
hem."
"The artist never equals the thing he irying to copy, neither can he creat
anything utterly unreal. I missed th
exhibits very much when I first cam
West, but this is some compensation,Laura said, meditatively.
"Do you ever get lonely here? I suppos
not, for you didn't come to find a greadisappointment when you came to New
Eden," Jerry declared, watching th
ranquil face of her hostess.
"No, Jerry, I brought my disappointmen
with me," Laura said, with a smile tha
made her look very much like her brother
And Jerry realized that Laur
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Macpherson's maimed limb had no
broken her heart. Laura was a very new
ype to her guest.
"Oh, I get lonely sometimes and resentfu
sometimes," Laura went on, "but we ge
over a good many little things in the day'
run. And then I have York, you know, andnow and then a guest who means a grea
deal to me. I have so many interests here
oo. You'll like New Eden when you
really know us. And up here this porch habecome my holy of holies. There i
something soothing and healing in th
breezes that sweep up the Sage Brush o
summer evenings. There is somethinrestful in the stretch of silent prairie ou
here, and the wide starlit sky above it
Kansas sooner or later always has
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"Mrs. Bahrr will want a full report o
Jerry, with the blank spaces for remark
filled out," Laura went on. "Why, she ha
changed her course and is tacking awawith the wind."
"Going over to the Lenwells', I suppose
They are in some way sort of distantlrelated to her. Just near enough, anyhow
o listen to all her stories, and then say
For goodness sake don't say I told it; I go
t from Stellar, you know.' She will punto any port right now. I'm her lighthous
warning," York declared. "She neve
approaches when I'm present."
York had risen and was standing in the
doorway, where the growing moo
revealed him clearly. Mrs. Bahrr, coming
up the walk toward the Macpherson drive
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suddenly turned about and hurried away
her tall, angular form in relief against th
sky-line in the open space that la
between the Macpherson home and thnearest buildings down the slope towar
he heart of the town.
"Coming back to common things," Yorkcontinued, dropping into his favorit
chair. "My sister scandalizes me on every
occasion. Whether or not you hitch you
wagon to a star, Jerry, is not so importantafter all. The real test is in just what kin
of a star you hitch to. That will tel
whether you are going to ride to glory o
cut such a figure as the cow did thaumped over the moon."
"It is not always that lawyers give counse
for nothing, Jerry," Laura began, but th
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ine of talk was again interrupted.
The coming of callers led to many lines o
discussion during the long summeevening, in which Jerry took little part. I
his new hemisphere in which she wa
rying to find herself, where east seeme
south and her right hand her left, there waso much of the old hemisphere agains
which she had partly burnt her bridges
The friendly familiarity of New Ede
neighbors was very different from thcaste exclusiveness of the Darby-Swai
set in Philadelphia. With the Winnowoc
Valley people the rich landholders had no
social traffic. But the broad range oconversation to-night, token of genera
nformation, called up home memories i
Jerry's mind and the long evenings whe
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Jim Swaim's friends gathered there t
discuss world topics with her father
while she listened with delight to all tha
was said. Her mother didn't care for theshings and wondered why her artisti
daughter could be so interested in them
But when the Macphersons and thei
guests spoke of the latest magazines anhe popular fiction and the recent drama i
brought up Lesa Swaim in her element t
he listening young stranger. It seemed so
easy for the Macphersons to entertai
gracefully, to make everybody at home i
he shadowy comfort of that big porch, t
bring in limeade and nut-cakes in cut-glasand fine china service, to forget none o
he things due to real courtesy, and yet to
envelop all in the genuine, open-hearte
nformality of the genial, open-hearte
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West.
Long after the remainder of th
Macpherson household was asleep JerrSwaim lay wide awake, her mind threshe
upon with the situation in which she ha
suddenly found herself. And over and ove
n the aisles of her thoughts what YorkMacpherson had said about unhitchin
from a star ran side by side with Uncl
Cornie's words, "If a man went right wit
himself."
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"Eden" Mrs. Darby had gone into the cit
for a conference with her late husband'
business associates. Sloth in action neve
deprived her of any opportunities; anquick action now meant everything in th
accomplishment of the purpose she ha
before her.
"Cornelius was such a quiet man, he wa
never very much company. He really did
not care for people, like most men," Mrs
Darby said to her business partners, whhad known her husband intimately
"Eugene Wellington has already surpassed
him in getting hold of some things he neve
quite reached to, being an older man. Andnow that Eugene is proving such splendi
help in taking up the less important detail
n my affairs he ought to do fine clerica
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work in the House here. There is n
elling how much ability he may have fo
being useful to all of us along the lines tha
Cornelius has developed. He has provehat he is equal to a lot of things beside
painting. People of little brain power an
financial skill ought to paint the picture
and not rob our big affairs of businesability."
Mrs. Darby held a controlling interest i
he House, so the outcome of thconference was that an easy berth on mor
han moderate pay, with possibl
prospects—just possible, of course—wa
what Mrs. Darby had to take back t"Eden" to serve up to Eugene Wellington
when he should return from his brie
errand up in the Winnowoc country. And
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as that was what Mrs. Darby wished t
accomplish, her day's journey to the cit
was a success.
Only, that Winnowoc local wa
uncomfortably hot and crowded. He
rusty chauffeur had resigned his positio
on the day after Cornelius was buried, anMrs. Darby was timid about the bluf
road, anyhow. If only Jerry had been her
o drive for her! With all Jerry's dash and
slash, she was a fearless driver analways put the car exactly where sh
wanted it to be. There was som
satisfaction in having a hand like Jerry'
on the steering-wheel. So, pleased as tone horn of her dilemma, but tired an
perspiring, Mrs. Darby came hom
determined more than ever to bring abou
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her other purpose—to have Jerry Swai
n her home, because she, Jerusha Darby
wanted her there.
Jerry always filled the place with interest
And Jerry was gone, actually gone, ba
and baggage. She had cleared out tha
morning early on a fool's errand tKansas. What right had Jerry to go off t
earn a living when a living was her
ready-made merely for her subjection to
selfish old woman's wishes? Mrs. Darbdid not think it in such words, because sh
no more understood her own mind tha
hat pretty girl with her dark-blue eyes an
wavy, gold-tinged hair understood heown mind. One thing she did understand—
Jerry must come back.
A week later Eugene Wellington dropped
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off the morning train running down fro
Winnowoc. It was too early for th
household to be astir, save the earl
feeder of stock and milker of kine, thearly man-of-all-odd-jobs who looke
after the fowls, and the early maid-of-all
good-things-to-eat who would have bi
puffy biscuit for breakfast, with tendefried chicken and gravy that would stan
alone. All the homey sounds of the earl
summer morning flitted out from th
"Eden" kitchen and barn-yard. But th
misty stillness of dawn rested on th
"Eden" lawns, whose owner, with th
others of the household, was not yeawake.
At the rose-arbor the young artist pause
o let the refreshing morning zephyr
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sweep across his face. He wondered i
Jerry was awake yet. Ever since he ha
eft "Eden" the hope had been growing i
him that she would change her mind. Afteall, Aunt Jerry might be right about it. Thi
was too beautiful a house to throw asid
for a whim—an ideal, however fine, o
self-support and all that. Women weremade to be cared for, not to suppor
hemselves—least of all a pretty, wilful
but winsomely magnetic creature lik
Jerry Swaim, with her appealing, beautifu
eyes, her brown hair all glinted with gold
her strong little white hands, and he
daring spirit, exhilarating as wine in itexuberant influence. No, Jerry mustn't go
She belonged to the soft and lovel
settings of life.
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Eugene leaned against the door of th
rose-arbor as these things filled his mind
and a love of the luxuries that surrounde
him here drove back for the moment thhigh purpose of his own life.
n the woodwork of the arbor, where th
ightning had left its imprint, he saw ittle white envelop wedged in
splintered rift. The rose-vine had hid i
from every angle except the one he ha
chanced to take. He slipped it out and reahis inscription:
"To Mr. Eugene Wellington, Artist."
nside, on Jerry's visiting-card, in her ow
hand-writing, was the message: "Write m
at New Eden, Kansas, Care of Mr. York
Macpherson. Don't forget what we ar
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going to do, and when we have done, an
won, we'll meet again. Good-by. Jerry."
The young artist dropped the card anstared down the lilac-bordered avenu
oward the shadowy gray-blue wes
whither Jerry Swaim was gone. And al
he world seemed gray-blue, a great voidwhere there was neither top nor bottom
Then he picked up the card again and pu
t into his pocket, and went into the hous
o get ready for breakfast.
Mrs. Darby greeted his return as warml
as it was in her repressed nature to do
conveying to him, not by any word, thfeeling that he meant more to her now tha
he had ever meant before.
"Didn't Jerry leave suddenly? I didn
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know she was going so soon. I—I wa
hoping—to find her here," was what h
was going on to say.
"That she would be willing to stay here; t
give up this scheme of hers." Mrs. Darb
finished the sentence for him. "Yes,
hoped so, too. That was the only righhing to do. She chose her own time fo
eaving, but she will be back soon if w
manage right. Don't be a bit discouraged
Eugene, and don't give up to her too muchShe loves a resisting force. She alway
did."
Eugene looked anything but encourageust then. All "Eden" was but an echo o
Jerry Swaim, and the droop of his well
formed lips suggested only a feebl
resisting force against her smallest wish.
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"She is my own flesh and blood. I know
her best, of course," Mrs. Darby went on
"The only way to meet her is to let he
meet you. But we will drop that nowAfter breakfast I want you to look up th
men. I have told them to report to you o
he crop values, and harvest plans, an
fall seeding later. Look over the placwell, won't you? Then meet me in th
rose-arbor at ten o'clock for a cup of te
and we will counsel together."
Mrs. Darby would have told the lat
Cornelius to "come in for instruction
ater." But Eugene Wellington wasn't a
sure result. He was only in the process osolution. And Eugene, being very human
was unconsciously flattered by thi
deference to a penniless young man. I
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made him pleased with himself and gav
him a vague sense of proprietorship whic
Cornelius Darby, the real-in-law owner o
his fine country estate, never dreamed oenjoying.
"I wonder what Jerry is doing thi
morning," he thought as he rode CorneliuDarby's high-school-gaited horse to the fa
side of the place.
"The more I see of this farm the finer iooks to me. Not a foot of waste ground
not a nesting-place for weeds, not
broken fence; grove and stream, and tille
fields, and gardens, and lawns, and wellkept buildings. Not an unpainted board no
broken hinge—everything in perfect repai
except that splintered framework at th
rose-arbor." He paused on a little ridg
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above the Winnowoc from which th
whole farm lay in full view. His artisti
eye noted the peaceful beauty of the scene
he growing crops, the yellowing wheathe black-green corn, the fertile meadow
swathed in June sunshine, the gracefu
shrubbery and big forest trees throug
which the red-tiled roofs of the buildingglowed, the pigeons circling about th
cupolas of the barn. And not the leas
attractive feature of the picture, althoug
he was unconscious of it, was the youn
artist himself, astride a graceful blac
horse, in relief against a background o
wooded border of the bluff above thclear gurgling Winnowoc. Eugene looked
well on horseback, although he was n
over of horses, and preferred the steady
sure mounts to the spirited ones.
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"I wonder if Jerry's big estate can be a
well appointed as this. I wish she wer
here with me now." The rider fell to
dreaming of Jerry, trying to put her in picture of this "Eden" six times enlarged.
At this same hour Jerry Swaim was sittin
n Junius Brutus Ponk's gray runabou
under the shade of the low oak-grovegazing with burning eyes at her ow
kingdom built out of Kansas sand.
Mrs. Darby had hot coffee and col
chicken and cherry preserves and cak
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with blackberry wine all daintily serve
for a hungry man to enjoy after a lon
hree hours on horseback in the sunshine
The rose-arbor was odorous with perfumfrom the sweet-peas, clinging to the trelli
hat ran between the side lawn and th
grape-arbor.
What took place in that council had it
results in the letter that Eugene Wellington
wrote that night to Jerry Swaim. He di
not mail it for several days, and when hwent to his tasks on the morning after hi
fingers had let go of it at the lip of the iro
mail-box, the artist in him said things t
him that to the day of his death he woulnever quite forget.
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Late one afternoon, a fortnight after th
day of Jerry's visit to her claim, Ponk, o
he Commercial Hotel and Garage
slipped into the office of the MacphersoMortgage Company.
"York, what happens to folks that tends to
other folks's affairs?" he asked, as hspread his short proportions over a chai
beside York's desk.
"Sometimes they get the gratitude oposterity. More generally their portion i
present contempt and future obscurity. Are
you in line for promotion on that, Ponk?
York replied.
"I'm 'bout ready to take chances," Pon
said, with a good-natured grin.
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"All right. Am I involved in your schem
of things?" York inquired.
"You bet you are," Ponk assured him"And, to be brief, knowin' how valuabl
your time is for gougin' mortgages out o
unsuspectin' victims—"
"Well, we haven't foreclosed on the
Commercial Hotel and Garage yet," York
nterrupted.
"No, but you're likely to the minute m
back's turned. That's why I have to g
facin' south all the time. But to get to rea
business now, York—"
"I wish you would," York declared.
His caller paid no heed to the thrust, an
continued, seriously, "I can't get som
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hings off my mind, and I've got to unload
hat's all."
"Go ahead. I'm your dumping-ground,York said, with a smile.
"That's what you are, you son of a horse
hief. I mean the tool of a grasping bunc
of loan sharks known as the Macpherso
Mortgage Company. Well, it's that young
ady at your house."
"I see. We robbed you of a boarder," Yor
suggested.
"Aw, shut up an' listen, now, will you?
You know I'm a man of affairs hereOwner and proprietor and man-of-all
work at the Commercial Hotel an
Gurrage, bass soloist in the Baptist choir
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and—by the removal of the late decease
ncumbent—also treasurer of the board o
education of the New Eden schools—"
"All of which has what to do with th
young lady from Philadelphia?" York
nquired, blandly.
"Well, listen. Here's where tendin' to
other folks's business comes in. A good
ookin' but inexperienced young lad
comes out here from Philadelphia to find claim left her by her deceased father. Ou
she goes to see said claim, payin' me goo
money for my best car—to ride in stat
over her grand province—of sand. Andhere wasn't much change but a pearl
handle knife an' a button-hook in her purs
when she pays for the use of the car, eve
when I cut down half a buck on the regula
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hire. Her kind don't know rightly how t
save money till they 'ain't none to save
But the look in her eyes when she com
steamin' in from that jaunt was more 'n could stand. York, she ain't the firs
Easterner to be fooled by the promise o
he West. Not the real West, you
understand, but the sham face o' things puup back East. An' here she be in our midst
Every day she goes by after the mail get
n, looking like one of them blue pigeon
with all the colors of a opal on thei
necks, and every day she goes back wit
her face white around the mouth. She'
walkin' on red-hot plowshares and nevesquealin'." Ponk paused, while York sa
combing his fingers through his hair i
silence.
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"You know I'm some force on the schoo
board, if I don't know much. I ain't there t
each anybody anything, but to see tha
such ignoramuses as me ain't put up teach children. Now we are shy on
eacher in the high-school by the sudde
resignation of the mathematics professo
o take on underwritin' of life insurance ihe city. Do you suppose she'd do it
Would it help any if we offered the place
o Miss Swaim? It might help to keep he
n this town."
"Ponk, your heart's all right," York said
warmly. "It would help, I'm sure, if th
ady is to stay here, for she is withoumeans. She might or might not be willin
o consider this opening. I can't forecas
women. But, Ponk, could she teac
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mathematics? You know she was probabl
fashionably finished—never educated—i
some higher school. If it were embroidery
or something like that, it might be alright."
"Oh, you trust me to judge a few things
even if I'm not up on the gentle art oforeclosin' mortgages and such. I know
hat girl could teach mathematics
Anybody who can run a car like she ca
with as true a eye for curves an' distancesand a head for bossin' a machine that run
by engine power, couldn't help but teac
algebry and geometry just true as a righ
angle. But mebby," and Ponk'countenance fell—"mebby she'd not wan
o, nor thank me noways, nor you, neither
for interfering in the matter. But I jus
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hought I'd offer you the chance to mebb
help her get on her feet. I don't know
hough. I'd hate to lose her good-will.
ust couldn't stand it."
"Ponk, I appreciate your motive," York
said, feelingly. "I will take this up as soon
as I can with Miss Swaim. You see, she'sour guest and I can't very gracefull
suggest that she seek employment. And, to
be frank with you, my sister has becom
very fond of her—Laura misses a goomany good things on account of he
ameness—and we would like to keep he
our guest indefinitely; but we can't do tha
of course."
"I don't wonder your sister wants her. O
course, you don't care nothin' about i
yourself. An' I'll have the board hold th
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place awhile to see what 'll happen. I mus
soar back home now." And the little man
eft the office.
"Sound to the core, if he does strut whe
strangers come to town. Especially ladies
That's the only way some little men hav
of attracting attention to themselves. Akind-hearted man as ever came up th
Sage Brush," York commented, as he
watched his caller crossing the street t
he hotel.
That evening Jerry Swaim sat alone on th
porch of the Macpherson home, wher
shafts of silvery moonlight fell through thhoneysuckle vines. What York
Macpherson would have called a figh
between Jim Swaim's chin and Lesa's eye
was going on in Jerry's soul this evening
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Since her visit to her claim life ha
suddenly become a maze of perplexities
She had never before known a care tha
could not have been lifted from her bothers, except the one problem of leavin
Philadelphia, and the solution of that migh
have been the prank of a headstrong child
prompted by self-will and love oadventure, rather than by the grav
decision of well-poised judgment
Heretofore in all her ventures a saf
harbor had been near to shelter her. Now
she was among the breakers and the stor
was on.
For the first time in her memory her purswas light and there was no visible sourc
from which to refill it. She was too well
bred to tax the hospitality of th
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Macpherson home, where she was mad
o feel herself so welcome. To return to
Philadelphia meant to write and ask fo
he expenses of transportation. She haburned too many bridges behind her t
meet the humility of such a request jus
yet; for that meant the subjection of he
whole future to Jerusha Darby's will, anagainst such subjection Jerry's spiri
rebelled mightily.
Every day for two weeks the girl had gono the post-office with an eager, expectan
face. Every evening she had asked York
Macpherson if he had heard anything fro
Philadelphia since her coming, thpretended indifference in her tone hardl
concealing the longing behind the query
But not a line from the East had come t
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ew Eden for her.
On the afternoon of this day the postmaste
had hurried through the letters because heoo, had caught the meaning of the hunge
n the earnest eyes watching him throug
he little window among the letter-boxes
The mail was heavy to-day, but thdistributer paused with one letter, lon
enough to look at it carefully, and then
eaving his work half finished, he hurrie
o the window.
"Here's something for you. Aren't yo
Miss Swaim?" he inquired, courteously
as he pushed the letter toward Jerry'waiting hand.
He had lived in Kansas since the passag
of the homestead law. He knew the mar
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of homesickness on the face of a lat
arrival. Something in the cultivation of
new land puts a gentler culture into th
soul. Out of the common heartache, thcommon sacrifice, the common need, hav
grown the open-hearted, keen-sighted
fine-fibered folk of the big and generou
Middle West, the very heart of which, tohe Kansan, is Kansas.
The postmaster turned quickly back to hi
ask. He did not see the girl's face; he onlfelt that she walked away on air.
At York Macpherson's office she hesitated
a moment, then hurried inside. York wasn his private room, but the door to i
stood open, and Jerry caught sight of
woman within.
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"I beg your pardon." She blushe
confusedly. "I don't want to intrude; I onl
wanted to stop long enough to read a lette
from home."
Jerry's genuine embarrassment was ver
pretty and appealing, but York wa
shrewd enough to know that it came frohe letter in her hand, not from an
connection with his office or it
occupants. Mrs. Stellar Bahrr, however
who happened to be the woman in thnner room, did not see the incident wit
York's eyes.
"Just come in here, Miss Swaim, anmake yourself at home," York insisted
"Come, Mrs. Bahrr, we can finish our tal
for to-day in one place as well as another
My sister and I are going across the rive
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o spend the evening, so it will be late to
morrow before I can get those paper
ready for you."
Mrs. Bahrr rose reluctantly, hooking he
sharp eyes into the girl as she passed out
What she noted was a very white fac
where the color of the cheeks seemeburned in, and big, shining eyes. Of cours
he broad-brimmed chiffon hat wit
beaded medallions, the beaded parasol t
match, and the beaded hand-bag of thsame hues did not escape her eyes
especially the pretty hand-bag.
York closed the door behind the twoeaving Jerry in quiet possession of th
nner room, while he seated Mrs. Bahrr i
he outer office and engaged in th
business that had brought her to him. H
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knew that she would be torn between tw
desires: one to hurry through and leave th
office, and so be able to start a story o
eaving Jerry and himself in questionable situation; the other to sta
and see the fair caller as she came out
and to learn, if possible, why she ha
come, and to enjoy her confusion ifinding a woman still engaging York's
ime. Either thing would be worth while t
Mrs. Bahrr, and while she hesitated York
decided for her.
"I'll keep her with me, the old Lon
Tongue. Yea, she shall roost here in my
coop till the little girl gets clear to 'CastlCluny.' She sha'n't run off and overtake he
prey and then cackle over it later. Jerry
has committed the unpardonable sin o
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being young and pretty and good; the Bi
Dipper will make her pay for the persona
nsult."
n the midst of their business conversatio
Jerry Swaim came from the inner room
and with a half-audible word of thanks lef
he office. Mrs. Bahrr's back was towarhe door, and, although she turned with
catlike quickness, she failed to se
anything worth while except to get anothe
good look at the hand-bag. Something tolYork Macpherson that the message in he
etter held a tragical meaning for the fair
faced girl who had waited so eagerly fo
ts coming.
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At dinner that evening York was at hi
best.
"I must make our girl keep an appetite," hargued. "Nothing matters if a dinner stil
carries an appeal. By George! I've got t
do my best, or I'll lose my own taste fo
what Laura can set up if I don't look outWe are all getting thin except Laura. Even
Ponk is losing his strut a bit. And why
Oh, confound it! there is plenty of time t
ask questions in July and August when thown has its dull season."
So York came to dinner in one of hi
rarest moods, a host to make one's worrieflee away.
Jerry had reread her letter in the seclusio
of her room at "Castle Cluny." It did no
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need a third reading, for every wor
seemed graven on the reader's brain. I
carefully typewritten form, with only th
signature in the writer's own hand, it ran:
My always dear Jerry,—I should
have written you days ago, but I did
not get back to "Eden" until you had been gone a week. We are all so
eager to hear how you are, and to
know about the Swaim estate which
you went to find. But we are ahundred times more eager to see your
face here again. I wish you were here
to-night, for I have been in the depths
of doubt and indecision, from which
your presence would have lifted me.
I hope I have done the right thing,
now it is done, and I'll wait to hear
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clerkship in the bank with Uncle
Cornie's partners. I can see your eyes
open wide with surprise and
disappointment when I tell you thatAunt Jerry has really converted me to
her way of thinking. My hours are
easy and the pay is good. Not so
much as I had hoped to have someday from my brush and may have yet,
if this work doesn't make me fat and
lazy, for there is really very little
responsibility about it, just a decent
accuracy. This makes so many things
possible, you see, and then I have the
satisfaction of knowing I am doing aservice for Aunt Jerry—and, to be
explicit—to put myself where I shall
not have to worry over things when
you come home. So I'm happy now.
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And when you get here I shall begin
to live again. I seem to be staying
here now. Staying and waiting for
something. Nobody really lives at"Eden" without little Jerry to keep us
all alive and keyed up. Nobody to
take the big car over the bluff road,
beautiful as it is—for you know I'mtoo big a coward to drive it and to do
a hundred things I'd do if you were
here to brace me up.
Write me at once, little cousin, and
say you will come home just as soon
as you have seen all of that God-
forsaken country you care to look at.And meantime I'll write as often as
you want me to. I think of you every
day and remember you in my prayers
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every night. You remember I told you
I couldn't pray out in Kansas. May
the Lord be good to you and make
you love Him more than you think you do now, and bring you safe and
soon to our beautiful "Eden."
Yours,
Eugene.
The sands of the blowout on Jerry's clai
seared not more hotly her fresh youn
hopes of prosperity, through her ow
effort and control, than this sudden chang
from the artist, with his dreams of beautand power, to the man of easy clerica
duty with a good salary and smal
responsibility. Of course Aunt Jerry had
been back of it all, but so would Aun
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Jerry have been back of her—if she ha
given up.
Jerry sat for a long time staring at thmissive where it had fallen on the floor
he typewritten neatness of the blu
ettering only a blur to her eyes. For sh
was back at "Eden," on the steep bubeautiful bluff road, with Eugene afraid t
drive the big Darby car. She was in th
rose-arbor looking up to see that faint lin
of indecision in the dear, handsome faceShe was in the "Eden" parlor under th
soft light of rose-tinted lamps, facing Aun
Jerry and sure of herself, but catchin
again that wavering line of uncertainty oEugene Wellington's countenance, and he
own vague fear—unguessed then—that h
might not resist in the supreme test.
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But idols die hard. Eugene was her ido
He couldn't die at once. He was s
handsome, so true, so gracious, so fille
with a love of beautiful things. How coulshe understand the temptation to the sou
of an artist in such lovely settings a
"Eden" offered? It was all Aunt Jerry'
fault, and he would overcome it. He must.
t was so easy to blame Aunt Jerry. I
made everything clear. He had yielded to
her cleverness and never known he wabeing ruled. With all her flippant, careles
youth, inexperience, and selfishness, Jerr
was a keener reader of human nature tha
her lack of training could account for. Shknew just the lines Aunt Jerry had laid, th
net spread for Eugene's feet. But—Oh
hings must come out all right. He woul
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change.
This one thought rang up and down he
scale of thinking, as if repeating woulmake true what Jerry knew was false.
"'If a man went right with himself.' Oh
Eugene, Eugene!" she murmured, hal
aloud. "You hitched your wagon to a star
but to what kind of a star—to what kind o
a star?"
Then came a greater query: "Shall I g
back to 'Eden,' to Aunt Jerry's rule, to
Eugene, to love, to easy, dependent
purposeless living? Shall I?"
A blank wall seemed suddenly to be flun
across her way. Should she climb over it
hammer an opening through it, or turn bac
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and run from it?
With these questions stalking before he
she had come out to dinner and YorkMacpherson's genial, entertainin
conversation, and to Laura Macpherson'
gracious intuition and soothing sympathy.
Early in the evening, as the Macpherson
with their guest sat watching the splendo
of the sunset sky, Jerry said, suddenly:
"It has been two weeks to-day since
came here. Quite long enough for
stranger's first visit."
"A 'stranger,'" Laura Macphersonrepeated. "A 'stranger' who asked to b
called 'Jerry' the first thing. We are all so
well acquainted with this 'stranger' tha
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we wouldn't want to give her up now."
"But I must give you up pretty soon." Jerr
spoke earnestly."Why 'must'? Has the East too strong
hold for the West to break?" York asked.
"I came out here because I believed mand would support me, and I had all sort
of foolish dreams of what I might find her
hat would be new and romantic." Jerry'
eyes had a far-away look in them as sh
recalled the unrealized picture of he
prairie domain.
"You haven't answered my question yet,York reminded her.
Jerry dropped her eyes, the bloo
deepened on her fair cheek, and sh
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clasped her small hands together. For
ong time no word was spoken.
"I didn't answer your question. I am nogoing back to Philadelphia. There must b
something else besides land in the West,
Jerry said, at last.
"Yes, we are here. Do stay right here wit
us," Laura Macpherson urged, warmly.
Every day the companionship of this gir
had grown upon her, for that was Jerry'
gift. But to the eager invitation of he
hostess the girl only shook her head.
York Macpherson sat combing his fingerhrough the heavy brown waves of hi
hair, a habit of his when he was thinkin
deeply. But if a vision of what might b
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came to him unbidden now, a vision tha
had come unbidden many times in the las
wo weeks, making sweeter the smile tha
won men to him, he put it resolutely awafrom him for the time. He must help thi
girl to help herself. Romance belonged t
other men. He was not of the right mol
for that—not now, at least.
"I heard to-day that there is need of
mathematics teacher in our high-school fo
next year. It pays eighty dollars a month,he said.
"Oh, York," Laura protested, earnestly
"You know Jerry never thought of such ahing as teaching. And I really must hav
her here. You are away so much, you
know you are."
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But her brother only smiled. When York
Macpherson frowned he might be givin
n, but his sister knew that his smile mean
absolute resistance.
"Ponk was talking to me to-day. He is th
reasurer of the school board now, and h
mentioned the vacancy. He was castinabout for some one fitted to teac
mathematics. Even though his mind run
more on his garage than on education, h
has a deep interest in the schools. Hadmires your ability to manage a car s
much it occurred to him that you migh
consider this position. Fine course o
reasoning, but he is sure of his ground."
"Let me think it over," Jerry said, slowly.
"And then forget it," Laura suggested
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"York and I are invited out this evening
Won't you come with us? It is just a little
nformal doings across the river."
"I would rather be alone to-night," he
guest replied.
So the Macphersons let her have her way.
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IX
IF A WOMAN WENT
RIGHT WITH HERSELF
And thus it happened that Jerry Swai
was alone this evening behind th
honeysuckle-vines, with leaf shadow an
moonbeams falling caressingly on he
filmy white gown and golden hair. For
ong time she sat still. Once she said, hal
aloud, unconscious that she was speakinat all:
"So Eugene Wellington has given up hi
art for an easy berth in the Darby bank. H
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hadn't the courage to resist the temptation
hough it made him a tool instead of
master of tools. And we promised each
other we would each make our own wayndependent of Aunt Jerry's money. Maybe
f I had been there things would have bee
different."
She gripped her hands in her quick
nervous way, as a homesick longing swep
her soul. She was searching a way out fo
Eugene, a cause for putting all the blamon Aunt Jerry.
"I wish I had gone with the Macphersons
could have forgotten, for a while aeast."
A light step inside the house caught he
ear.
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"Maybe Laura has come home," sh
hought, too absorbed in herself to as
why Laura should have chosen the sid
door when she knew that Jerry was alonon the front porch.
Again she heard a movement just insid
he open door; then a step on the thresholdand then a tall, thin woman walked out o
he house and half-way across the wid
porch before she caught sight of Jerry i
an easy-chair behind the honeysucklevines. The intruder paused a second
staring at the corner where the girl sa
motionless. From her childhood Jerry ha
possessed unusual physical courage. Tonight it was curiosity, rather than fright
hat prompted her to keep still while th
strange woman's eyes were upon her
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Evidently the intruder was more surprise
han herself, and Jerry let her make th
first move in the game. The woman wa
angular, with swift but ungraceful motionFor a long time, as such seconds go, sh
stared at the white figure hidden by th
shadows of the vines. Then with a quic
stride she thrust herself before the girl andropped into a chair.
"Well, well! This is Miss Swim, ain't it?"
"As well that as anything. I can't lan
anywhere," Jerry thought.
"I'm Mrs. Stellar Bahrr, a good friend o
Laury Macpherson as she's got in thi
own, unless it's you. I seen you in York'
office this afternoon. I was sorry
ntruded on you two when you com
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purpose to see him in his private office
When girls wants to see him that way the
don't want nobody, 'specially women
around."
Mrs. Bahrr paused to giggle and to giv
Jerry time to parry her thrust, meanwhil
pinning her through with the sharp pointof her eyes that fairly gleamed in th
shadow-checkered moonlight of the porch
Jerry was not accustomed to bein
accountable to anybody for what shchose to do, nor did she know that ever
man in New Eden, except York
Macpherson and Junius Brutus Ponk—an
every woman, without exception—reallfeared Stella Bahrr, knowing that sh
would hesitate at no kind of warfare t
accomplish her purpose. It is generall
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easier to be decent than to be courageous
and peace at any price may be mor
desired than nasty word battles. No
knowing Stella for the woman she wasJerry had no mind to consider her at all
so she waited for her caller to proceed o
o leave her.
"You must excuse me if I seem to be
nterfering in your affairs. You are a
stranger here except to York and that man
Ponk—" Stella began, thrusting her hookmore viciously into her catch.
"Oh, you didn't interfere," Jerr
nterrupted her indifferently, and thepaused.
Mrs. Bahrr caught her breath. The girl wa
sinfully pretty and attractive, her beaut
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and grace in themselves alone railing ou
at the older woman's ugly spirit of envy
And she should be tender, with feeling to
be lacerated for these gifts of naturenstead, she was firm and hard, with n
vulnerable spot for a poisoned shaft.
"I'm sure you had a right to go into a man'private office. It's everybody's right, o
course," she began, with that faint sneerin
one of hers that carried a threat of wha
might follow.
"Yes, but a little discourteous in me to
drive you out. That was Mr. Macpherson'
fault, not mine," Jerry broke in, easily.
"Maybe that's her grievance. I'll be decen
about it," the girl was thinking.
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"I'm awfully bored right now." The wind
shifted quickly. "I run up to see Laury
minute. Just slipped in the side-stoop wa
o save troublin' you an' York out here. knowed Laury wouldn't be here, an
would you believe it? I clar forgot the
was gone out, an' I seen you all leavin
oo—I mean them, of course."
The threatening tone could not b
reproduced. It carried, however, a mos
uncomfortable force like a cruel undertowbeneath the seemingly safe crest of
wave.
"It's a joke on me bein' so stupid, but yowon't give me away to 'em, will you?"
"I'm awfully bored, too," Jerry thought.
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"You say you won't tell 'em at all that
come?" Mrs. Bahrr insisted.
"Not if you say so," Jerry replied, with smile.
"I'm an awfully good friend of Laury's
She's a poor cripple, dependent on he
brother for everything, an' if he marries, a
he's bound to do, I'd hate to see her turne
out of here. This house is just Laur
hrough and through. Don't you think soCourse, though, if York marries again—
Stellar Bahrr stopped meditatively. "Al
he women in the Sage Brush Valley's jus
crazy about York. He's some flirt, bueverybody thought he'd settled his min
once sure. But I guess he flared up again
from what they say. She's too fur away
from town a'most. Them that's furtheres
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away don't have a chance like them that'
nearest him. But it may be all just gossip
There was a lot of talk about him an' a gir
down the river that's got a cripplebrother—Paul Ekblad's his name; hers i
Thelmy—an' some considerable about on
of the Poser girls where he was up th
Sage Brush to this week. The married onnow, I think, an' a bouncin' big baby, bu
what do you care for all that?"
"Nothing," Jerry replied, innocently.
The steel hooks turned slowly to lacerat
deeper.
"Well, I must be goin'. You give me your
word you wouldn't cheep about m
forgettin' an' runnin' in here. York's such a
orment, I'd never hear the last of it.
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know you are a honorable one with you
promises, an' I like that kind. I'm glad
met you. An' I'll not say a word, neither
bout your goin' to see York in his privateoffice. It's a bargain 'tween us two
Laury's an awfully good friend of your
an' she'll keep you here a good long while
she's that hos pit able."
The steel hooks tore their way out, and th
woman rose and strode quickly away. In
minute she had literally dropped froview in the shaded slope beyond th
driveway.
"I might as well punch a stick in water ostick a pin in old Granddad Poser'
ombstone out in the cimetery, an' expec
o find a hole left, as to do anything wit
hat pink-an'-white-an'-gold critter!" sh
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exclaimed, viciously, as she disappeared
n the shadows. "I'm afraider of her than
would be of a real mad-cat, but she can
scare me!"
Out on the lawn the moon just then seeme
o cast a weird gleam of light, and to vei
rather than reveal the long street beyond iFor a minute after the passing of he
uninvited caller Jerry Swaim was fille
with an unaccountable fright. Then he
pulse beat calmly again and she smiled aherself.
"I don't seem to fear these Kansas men—
Mr. Ponk, for example, nor that Teddybear creature down by the deep hole in th
Sage Brush. But these Kansas women
except Laura—anybody would excep
Laura—are so impossible. That dairy
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The poison was working, after all, an
Stellar Bahrr's sting had not been agains
marble, nor into water. With the memory
of Jerusha Darby, too, the burden camagain to her niece's mind, only to be lifte
again, however, in a few minutes. He
memory had run back to her day down th
river and the oak-grove and the sand, anhe young man whose name was Jo
Thomson—Jerry did not remember th
name—and the crushing weight of surpris
and disappointment. The struggle t
decide on a course for hersel
mmediately was rising again within her
when she saw a young man turn from thstreet and come up the walk toward th
porch.
"I can't have leisure to settle anything b
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myself, it seems, even with the lord an
ady of the castle leaving me in ful
seclusion here. One caller goes an
another comes. I wonder what excuse thione has for intruding. He is another type—
one I haven't met before."
n the time required for this caller to reache porch there flashed through Jerry'
mind all the types she had seen in th
West. Ponk and Thelma and fuzzy Teddy
he woman-and-baby, Laura and York, anhat pin-eyed gossip—and the youn
country fellow whose land lay next t
hers. None of them concerned her, really
except these hospitable friends who wersheltering her, and, in a way, in an upright
egal, Jim Swaim kind of way, the youn
man down the Sage Brush, losing in th
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game like herself and helpless lik
herself.
t was no wonder that Jerry did norecognize in this caller the ranchman o
he blowout. There was nothing of th
clodhopper in this well-dressed youn
fellow, although he was not exactly model for advertising high-grade tailoring
"Is this Miss Swaim?" he asked, lifting hi
hat. "I am Joe Thomson. You mayremember that we met down in th
blowout two weeks ago."
"I could hardly forget meeting you. Wil
you sit down?" Jerry offered Joe a chai
with a courtesy very unlike the blun
manner of her first words to him
fortnight before.
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But in the far recesses of he
consciousness all the while the haunting
ever-recurring picture of a handsome fac
and a faultlessly clad form, even the facand form of a Philadelphia bank clerk, n
artist, made the reality of Joe Thomson'
presence very commonplace an
uninteresting at that moment, and hecourtesy was of a perfunctory sort.
"I hope I don't intrude. Were you busy?
Joe asked, something of thembarrassment of the first meeting comin
back with the question.
"Yes, I was very busy," Jerry repliedwith a smile. "Pick-up work, though. I wa
ust thinking. Lost in thought, maybe."
The moonlight can do so much for a prett
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woman, but with Jerry Swaim one coul
not say whether sunlight, moonligh
starlight, or dull gray clouds did the mos
For two weeks the memory of her faiface, as he recalled it in the oak shad
down beside the blowout, had not bee
absent from the young ranchman's mind
And to-night this dainty girl out of the Easseemed entrancing.
"You were lost in thought when I saw you
before. I had an idea that city girls didndo much thinking. Is it your settle
occupation?" Joe inquired, with a smile i
his eyes.
"It is my only visible means of suppor
right now; about as profitable, too, a
farming a blowout," Jerry returned.
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"Which reminds me of my purpose i
hrusting this call upon you," Joe declared
"I didn't realize the situation the other da
—and—well, to be plain, I came to beyour pardon for my rudeness in what
said about your claim. I had no idea wh
you were, you know, but that hardl
excuses me for what I said."
"It is very rude to speak so slightingly o
and that behaves as beautifully as min
does," Jerry said, with a smile that atonefor the trace of sarcasm in her voice.
"It is very rude to speak as slightingly as
did of the former owner. But you see have watched that brainless blowout thin
creep along, season after season, eating up
my acres—my sole inheritance, too."
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"And you said you didn't go mad," Jerr
nterposed.
"Yes, but I didn't say I didn't get mad. have worn out enough profanity on tha
blowout to stock the whole Sage Brus
Valley."
"But you aren't to the last resort, for yo
do go mad here then, you told me.
wonder you aren't all madmen and wome
when I think of this country and remembehow different I had imagined it would be.
"When we come to the very last ditch, w
really have two alternatives—to go ma
and to go back East. Most folks prefer th
former. But I say again, it's always a lon
way to the last ditch out on the Sag
Brush, so we seldom do either."
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"What should I do now? Won't you tel
me? I'm really near my last ditch."
Jerry sat with clasped hands, lookinearnestly into Joe's face, as she said this
Oh, fair was she, this exquisite white
blossom style of girl, facing her first life
problem, the big problem of living. JoThomson made no reply to her question
What could this dainty, untrained creatur
do with the best of claims? The fran
sincerity of his silence made an appeal ther that the wisest advice could not hav
made just then.
York Macpherson was right when he saidhat Jim Swaim's child was a type of he
own. If Jerry, through her mother's nature
was impulsive and imaginative, from he
father she had inherited balance and clea
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vision. Her young years had heretofor
made no call upon her to exercise thes
qualities. What might have been turned t
he frivolous and romantic in one parenand the hard-headed and grasping in th
other, now became saving qualities for th
child of these two. In an instant Jerry rea
he young ranchman's character clearland foresaw in him a friend and helper
But there was neither romance no
selfishness in that vision.
"Mr. Thomson," the girl began, seriously
"you need not apologize for what yo
could not help feeling about the conditio
of my estate and the wrong that has beedone to you. I know you do not hold m
responsible for it. Let's forget that yo
hought you had said anything unpleasan
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o me, for I want to ask your advice."
"Mine!" Joe Thomson exclaimed.
This sweet-faced, soft-voiced girl wawalking straight into another heart in th
Sage Brush Valley. Nature had given her
hat heritage, wherever she might go.
"Yes, your advice, please." Jerry went on
"You have watched that sand spreading
northward over your claim. You have had
days, months, years, maybe, to see th
blowout doing its work. I awakene
suddenly one morning from a beautifu
day-dream. My only heritage left of all th
fortune I had been brought to expect to b
mine, the inheritance I had idealized wit
all the romantic beauty and prosperit
possible to rural life, in a minute all thi
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urned to a desert before my eyes. You
belong to the West. Tell me, won't you
what is next for me?"
"What could I tell you, Miss Swaim?" Jo
asked.
"Tell me what to do, I mean," Jerry
exclaimed. "Tell me quickly, for I am righ
against the bread-line now."
For a moment Joe stared at the girl i
amazement. Her earnestness left no roo
o misunderstand her. But his senses cam
back quickly, as one whose life habit i
had been to meet and answer har
questions suddenly.
"Why not go back East?" he asked.
"One of your two last resorts; the othe
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one is madness. I won't do it," Jerry said
stubbornly. "Shall I tell you why?"
t was a delicious surprise to the younranchman to be taken into the confidenc
of this charming, gracious girl. Th
honeysuckle leaves, stirred by the sof
night breeze that came purring across thopen plain, gave the moonbeams leave t
play with the rippling gold of her hair, and
o flutter ever so faintly the soft whit
draperies of her gown. Her big dark eyesher fair white throat and shoulders, th
faint pink hue of her cheeks, the shapel
white arms below the elbow-frille
sleeves, her soft voice, her frank trust ihis judgment and integrity, made tha
appeal that rarely comes to a young man'
heart oftener than once in a lifetime.
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"My father lived a rich man and died
poor man, leaving me—for mother wen
first—to the care of his wealthy sister. A
half-forgotten claim on the Sage Brush imy only possession after two years o
itigation and all that sort of thing." Jerr
paused.
"Well?" Joe queried.
"I was offered one of two alternatives:
might be dependent on my aunt's bounty ocould come out West and live on my
claim. I chose the West. Now what can
do?"
The pathos of the young face wa
ouching. The question of maintenance i
hard enough for the resourceful an
experienced to meet; how doubly hard i
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must be to the young, untried, an
untrained!
Joe Thomson looked out to where thopen prairie, swathed in silvery mist
seemed to flow up to the indefinite bound
of the town. All the earth was beautiful i
he stillness of the June night.
"I don't know how to advise you," he said
at length. "If you were one of us—a rea
Western girl—it would be different."
To Jerry this sincerity outweighed any
suggestion he could have offered. Fro
he point of romance this young man wa
mpossible to Lesa Swaim's child. Ye
ruly nobody before, not even York
Macpherson, had ever seemed like such
real friend to her, and the chanc
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acquaintance was reaching by leaps an
bounds toward a genuine comradeship.
"Why do you stay here? You weren't bornhere, were you? Tell me about yourself,
Jerry demanded.
"There's a big difference between ou
cases," Joe replied, wondering how thi
girl could care anything for his life-story
"I was the oldest child of our family. My
father came out here on account of hihealth, but he came too late, and died
eaving me the claim on the Sage Brus
and my pledge on his death-bed never t
eave the West, for fear I, too, wouldbecome an invalid as he had been. Ther
seems to be little danger of that, and I lik
he West too well to leave it now. And
hen, besides, I'm like a lot of othe
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own, and I can begin to live my own life
ittle, comes my enemy, the blowout—"
"Oh, I never want to think of that awfuhing!" Jerry cried. "I shall give th
Macpherson Mortgage Company contro
of the entire sand-pile. I'll never pla
here again, never!"
n the silence that followed something i
he beauty of the midsummer night seeme
o fall like a benediction on this man anhis woman, each facing big realities
And, however different their equipmen
for their struggles had been in previou
years, they were not so far apart now aheir differing circumstances of life woul
ndicate.
"I must be going now. I did not mean to
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ake so much of your time. I came only t
assure you that I am not always so rude a
he mood you found me in the other da
would indicate." Joe rose to go with thwords.
Jerry's mind had run back again, dreamily
o Gene Wellington, of Philadelphia, theGene as she knew and remembered him. I
was not until afterward that she recalle
her surprise that this ranchman of th
Western prairies should have such asimple and easy manner whose home lif
had evidently been so unlike her own.
"You haven't stayed too long," she saidfrankly. "And you haven't yet suggested
what an undertrained Philadelphia girl ca
do to keep the coyote from her dugou
portal."
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f only she had been a little les
bewitchingly pretty, a little less sure tha
he distance of planet from planet la
between them, a strange sense of sorrowand a strange new purpose would not hav
found a place in Joe Thomson's heart then
With a perception much keener than he
own, he read Jerry's mind that night as shhad never tried to read it herself.
"I'm better up on soils and farm product
han on civic problems and sociaeconomy and such. Dry farming, clerking
sewing, household economics i
somebody's cook-shack, teaching schoo
giving music lessons, canvassing fomagazines—the Sage Brush girls do thing
ike these. I wish I could name a callin
more suitable for you, but this is the onl
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ine I can offer," Joe said, thinking how
mpossible it would be for the girl besid
him to fit into the workaday world of th
Sage Brush Valley. On the next ranch tohis own up the river a fair-haired, sun
browned girl was working in the harvest
field this season to save the price of
hired hand, toward going to college thafall. Jolly, strong-handed, strong-hearted
Thelma Ekblad, whose name was yet t
adorn an alumni record of the bi
university proud to call her its product
Jerry Swaim would never thrive in th
same soil with this stout Norwegian.
They were standing on the porch stepnow, and the white moonbeams glorified
Jerry's beauty, for the young ranchman, a
she looked up at him with a smile on he
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ips and eyes full of light, a sudde
decision giving new character to he
countenance. The suddenness of it, tha
was her mother's child. The purpose, thawas the reflection of Jim Swaim's mind.
"I'm on the other side of my Rubicon. I'
going to teach mathematics in the NewEden high-school. Will you help me to
keep across the river? There's a
nspiration for me in the things that yo
can do?"
"You! Teach mathematics! They always
have a man to teach that!" Joe exclaimed
wondering behind his words if he onldreamed that she had asked him to help t
keep her across her Rubicon, or if she ha
really said such a beautiful thing to him
Joe Thomson, sand-fighter and genera
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oser, who wouldn't be downed.
"Oh, I don't wonder you are surprised!
always jump quickly when I do moveYou think I couldn't teach A, B, C, the
known quantities, let alone x, y, z, th
unknown quantities, don't you?" Jerr
said, gaily. "When I went to school I waa flunker in languages and sciences. I wa
weak in boarding-school embroidery, too
because I never cared for those things, no
was I ever made to study anything unless chose to do it. But I was sure i
rigonometry and calculus, which I migh
have dodged and didn't. I reveled in them
My mother was scandalized, and GenWellington, an artist, who, by the way, has
ust given up his career for a good ban
clerkship in Philadelphia, a sort of cousi
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of mine, was positively shocked. I
seemed so unrefined and strong-minded
But my father said I was just his own fles
and blood in that line. Yes, I'll teachschool. Mr. Ponk is going to offer me th
position, and it's a whole lot better tha
he poor-house, or madness, or the Eas
maybe," she added, softly, with uminous glow in her beautiful eyes.
The old Sage Brush world seemed to slip
out from under Joe Thomson's feet jushen.
"Is your friend related to John Wellington
who once lived in Philadelphia?" hasked, after a pause, his mind far awa
from his query.
"Why, he's John Wellington's son! John
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Wellington was a sort of partner of my
father's once," Jerry said. Even in the sof
ight Joe saw the pink flush deepen on th
girl's cheek. "Good night." She offerehim her hand. "I hope I may see you often
Oh, I hate that blowout, and you ought t
hate me on account of it."
"It is a brainless, hateful thing," Jo
Thomson declared, as he took he
proffered hand. "All my streams seem t
be Rubicons, even to the crooked old SagBrush. I can't be an inspiration to anybody
t is you who can give me courage. If yo
can teach mathematics in New Eden,
believe I can kill that blowout ."
The strength of a new-born purpose wa
n the man's voice.
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"Oh, no, you can't, for it's mostly on m
and yet!" Jerry replied.
"Well, what of it? You say you won't playn that old sand-pile any more. What d
you care who else plays there? Goo
night."
"Good night, Mr. Thomson. Why, what i
hat?" Jerry's eyes were on a short, squa
figure standing in the middle of th
gateway to the Macpherson grounds.
"That's 'Fishing Teddy,' an old characte
who lives a hermit kind of life down th
Sage Brush. He comes to town about fou
imes a year; usually walks both ways; bu
promised to take him out with me to
night. He's harmless and gentle
Everybody likes him—I mean of our sort
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You wouldn't be interested in him. Hi
real name is Hans Theodore, but, o
course, nobody calls him Mr. Theodore
Everybody calls him 'Fishing Teddy.Good night, Miss Swaim."
Joe Thomson lifted his hat and walke
away.
Jerry saw the old man shuffle out and joi
him, and the two went down the stree
ogether, one, big and muscular, with headerect and an easy, fearless stride; th
other, humped down, frowsy, shambling, a
sort of half-product of humanity, whos
companion was the river, whose daywere solitary, who had no part in th
moonlight, the perfume of honeysuckl
blossoms, the pleasure of companionship
he easy comfort that wealth can bring. Hi
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o bear the heat and the cinders on the rea
platforms of jerky freight-trains, his t
serve his best food to imperious youn
city girls lost in an impetuous passion odisappointment in a new and bewilderin
and. And yet his mind was serene
Knowing the river would bring him hi
food in the morning and his commodity ocommerce for his needs, he was vastl
more contented with his lot to-night tha
was the stalwart young man who stalke
beside him, grimly resolving to go out an
do things.
Jerry watched the two until they turne
nto a side-street and disappeared. Thmoonlight was wondrously bright and th
air was like crystal. A faint, sweet odo
from hay-fields came up the valley now
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and then, and all the world was serenel
silent under the spell of night. The ne
seemed torn away from about the girl'
feet, the cloud lifted from her brain, thblinding, blurring mists from before he
eyes.
"I have crossed my Rubicon," shmurmured, standing still in the doorway o
he porch trellis, breathing deeply of th
pure evening air. "I'm glad he came. I a
free again, and I'm really happy. I supposam queer. If anybody should put me in
novel, the critics would say 'such a gir
never came to Kansas.' But then if Gen
should paint that blowout, the criticwould say 'there never was such
andscape in Kansas.' These critics know
so much. Only Gene will never paint an
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more pictures—not masterpieces, anyhow
But I'm going to live my life my own way
won't go back to idleness and a life o
sand at 'Eden.' I'll win out here—I will, will! 'If a woman goes right with herself
Oh, Uncle Cornie, I am starting. Whether
hold out depends on the way—an
myself."
When Laura Macpherson peeped int
Jerry's room late that night she saw he
guest sleeping as serenely as if her minhad never a puzzling question, her sunn
day never a storm-cloud. So far Jerry ha
gone right with herself.
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X
THE SNARE OF THE
FOWLER
The big dramas of life are enacted in th
big centers of human population. Grea
cities foster great commercial institutions
hey father great constructive enterprises
hey endow great educational systems
hey build up great welfare centers; an
hey reach out and touch and shape greanational and international conditions. I
hem the big tragedies and comedies o
ife—political, religious, social, domesti
—have their settings. And under th
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power of their combined units empire
appear and disappear. But, set in smalle
font, all the great dramas of life ar
printed, without a missing part, in thhumbler communities of th
commonwealth. All the types appear; al
conditions, aspirations, cunning seditions
and crowning successes have theiscenery and persona so true to form tha
sometimes the act itself takes on th
dignity of the big world drama. And th
actor who produces it becomes a star, fo
villainy or virtue, as powerful in hi
sphere as the great star-courted suns o
arger systems. Booth Tarkington makeone of his fiction characters say, "Ther
are as many different kinds of folks i
Kokomo as there are in Pekin."
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ew Eden in the Sage Brush Valley, on
he far side of Kansas, might never inspir
he pen of a world genius, and yet in th
small-town chronicle runs the same dramof life that is enacted on the great stag
with all its brilliant settings. Only thes
smaller actors play with the simplicity o
nnocence, never dreaming that what theplay so well are really world-sized part
fitted down to the compass of thei
settings.
Something like this philosophy was i
York Macpherson's mind the next morning
as he listened to his sister and her gues
oitering comfortably over their breakfastA cool wind was playing through the sout
windows that might mean hot, sand-fille
air later on. Just now life was worth al
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he cost to York, who was enjoying it to
he limit as he sat studying the two wome
before him.
"For a frivolous, spoiled girl, Jerry ca
surely be companionable," he thought, a
he noted how congenial the two wome
were and how easily at home Jerry waeven on matters of national interest. "
never saw a type of mind like hers befor
—such a potentiality for doing thing
coupled with such dwarfed results."
York's mind was so absorbed, as he sa
unconsciously staring at the fair-faced gir
opposite him, that he did not heed hisister's voice until she had spoken
second time.
"York, oh York! wake up. It's daylight!"
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York gave a start and he felt his face flush
with embarrassment.
"As I was saying half an hour ago, brotherhave you seen my little silk purs
anywhere? There was too much of m
scant income in it to have it disappea
entirely."
"Yes, I took it. I 'specially needed the
money for a purpose of my own. I meant t
ell you, but I forgot it. I'll bring back thpurse later," York replied.
Of course Laura understood that this wa
York's return for catching him at a
disadvantage, but she meant to pursue th
quest in spite of her brother's teasing, fo
she was really concerned.
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Only a few days before, the New Ede
eak had opened again and some reall
valuable things, far scattered and hardl
enough to be considered separately, haddisappeared. Laura by chance had hear
hat week of two instances on the tow
side of the river, and on the evenin
previous of one across the river.
Before she spoke again she saw tha
Jerry's eyes were fixed on the buffe
where two silver cups, exactly alike, saside by side. There was a quee
expression about the girl's mouth as sh
caught her hostess's eye.
"Is there any more silver of that pattern i
his part of the country?" she asked, wit
seeming carelessness, wrestling the whil
with a little problem of her own.
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"Not a pennyweight this side of ol
Castle Cluny' in Scotland, so far as
know," York replied. "There's your other
cup, after all, Laura. By the way, MisJerry, how would you like to take
horseback ride over 'Kingussie'? I must g
o the far side of the ranch this morning
and I would like a companion—eveyourself."
"Do go, Jerry. I don't ride any more,
Laura urged, with that cheerful smile thaold how heroically she bore he
affliction. "I used to ride miles with York
back in the Winnowoc country."
"And York always misses you wheneve
he rides," her brother replied, beamin
affectionately upon his brave, swee
sister. "Maybe, though, Jerry doesn't rid
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on horseback," he added.
At Laura's words Jerry's mind wa
flooded with memories of the Winnowocountry where from childhood she ha
aken long, exhilarating rides with he
father and her cousin Gene Wellington.
"I've always ridden on horseback," sh
said, dreamily, without looking up.
"She's going to ride with me, not wit
ghosts of Eastern lovers, if she rides to
day," York resolved, a sudden tenseness
catching at his throat.
"What kind of mounts are you afraid of? can have Ponk send up something easy,
he said, in a quiet, fatherly way.
Jerry's eyes darkened. "I can ride anythin
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your Sage Brush grows that you call
saddle-horse," she declared, with prett
daring. "Why, 'I was the pride of th
countryside' back in a country where finhorses grew. Really and seriously, it wa
Cousin Gene who was afraid of spirite
horses, and he looked so splendid o
hem, too. But he couldn't manage theany more than he could run an automobil
over the bluff road above the big cut thi
side of the third crossing of th
Winnowoc. He preferred to crawl throug
hat cut in the slow old local train while
climbed over the bluffs in our big car
You hadn't figured on my boastingqualities, had you?" she added, with
smile at her own vaunting words.
"Oh, go on," Laura urged. "I heard you
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father telling us once that your cousin, o
he Darby side, would ride out with yo
bravely enough, but that you traded horse
when you got off the place and you alwaycame back home on the one they wer
afraid for you to take out and your cousi
was afraid to ride back."
" S h e climbed while Cousin Gen
crawled . I believe she said somethin
here, but she doesn't know it yet; and it'
not my business to tell her till she askme." York shut his lips grimly at the
unspoken words. "We'll be back, appetite
and sundries, for the best meal th
scullery-maid can loot from the village,he said, as they rose from the table.
When Jerry came out of the side door
where York was waiting for her, she
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suggested at once a model for a cove
llustration of an outing magazine, a
artistic advertisement for well-tailore
results, and a type of young Americabeauty. As they rode back toward the
barns and cattle-sheds that belonged to th
ranch edging the corporation limits o
ew Eden, neither one noticed the talangular form of Mrs. Stellar Bahrr as sh
came striding across lots toward th
driveway.
Stellar lived in a side street. Her bac
yard bordered a vacant lot on the next sid
street above her. Crossing this, she could
slip over the lawn of a vacant house andown the alley half a block, and on by th
United Brethren minister's parsonage. Tha
et her sidle between a little carpenter
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shop and a shoe-shop to the rear gatewa
nto an alley that led out to the ope
ground at the foot of the Macpherso
knoll. Stellar preferred this corkscrewroute to the "Castle." It gave her severa
back and side views, with "listening
posts" at certain points.
"Oh, good morning, Laury! I'm so glad t
find you alone. I'm in a little trouble, an
mebby you can help me out. You are
everybody's friend, just like your brotherexactly. Only his bein' that way's bound to
get him into trouble sooner or before tha
Eh! What's that you're lookin' at?"
Laura had gone to the buffet after th
riders had started away. She had
singular feeling about that cup appearin
so suddenly. She remembered now tha
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Jerry had asked twice about those cups
and had looked at them with such
peculiar expression on each occasion
Laura had not remarked upon it to herselhe first time, but the trifling incident at th
able just now stayed in her mind. Ye
why? The housekeeper often rearrange
he dining-room features in her endeavoo keep things free from dust. That woul
not satisfy the query. That cup and Jerr
Swaim were dodging about mos
singularly in Laura's consciousness, an
she could not know that the reason for i
ay in the projecting power of the mind o
he woman coming across lots at thamoment to call on her.
Yet when Mrs. Bahrr thrust herself into
he dining-room unannounced, as was he
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habit, with her insistent greeting, and he
query, "What's that you're lookin' at?" th
mistress of "Castle Cluny" had a feeling o
having been caught holding a guiltsuspicion; and when Stellar Bahrr ran he
hrough with steely eyes she felt hersel
blushing with surprise and chagrin.
"How can I help you, Mrs. Bahrr?" sh
asked, recovering herself in a moment.
t was, however, the loss of the momenhat always gave the woman before her th
clue she wanted.
"I'm needin' just a little money—only
few dollars. I'm quittin' hat-trimmin' sinc
hem smarties down-town got so bus
makin' over, an' trimmin' over, an
everything. I'm goin' to makin' bread. I'v
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get the money right away."
She rose to leave the room, then sat dow
again hastily."I'm afraid I can't help you right now
either. I have mislaid my purse. But whe
find it I'll let you have the money. Whe
York comes back maybe I can get it o
him. Could you come over thi
afternoon?"
"Mebby York won't let you have it to loan
where there ain't no big interest comin'. I'
ruther he didn't know it if you wasn
sure."
Laura recalled what her brother had sai
about not becoming entangled with Stella
Bahrr, and she knew he would oppose th
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oan. She knew, too, that in the end h
would consent to it, because he himsel
was continually befriending the poor, no
matter how shiftless they might be.
"I think I can bring York round, all right,
Laura assured her caller. "He's no
unreasonable."
"I'd ruther he didn't know. Men are so
different from women, you know. You say
you lost your purse. Ain't that funnyWhere?"
"The funny thing is I don't know where,
Laura replied.
Mrs. Bahrr had settled down, and, havin
accomplished her open purpose, began t
rain her batteries for her hidden motive.
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"Things gits lost funny ways, queer ways
and sometimes ornery ways. Ever' now an
hen things is simply missin' here in thi
burg—just missin'. But again there's sucqueer folks even in what you call the bes
s'ciety. Now ain't that so?"
Laura agreed amiably. In truth, she wantedo get her mind away from its substratu
of unpleasant and unusual thought fo
which she could not account. Nothin
could take her farther from it than MrsBahrr's small talk about people and things
She knew better than to accept the gossi
for facts, but there was no courteous wa
of stopping Stellar now, anyhow. One hado meet her on the threshold for that.
"'Tain't always the little, petty thievin
sneak gits the things, even if they do git th
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blame of it. No, 'tain't." Mrs. Bahr
rambled on, fixing her hook eyes squar
nto her hostess at just the right momen
for emphasis. "I knowed the same thinhappen twice. Once back in Indiany
where I come from—jist a little town o
White River. There was a girl come to
hat town from"—hesitatingly—"froCaliforny; said to be rich, an' dressed i
all right; had every man there crazy abou
her, an' her spendin' money like wate
pours over a mill-wheel in March. Tel
you who she looked like—jist a mite lik
his Miss Swim stayin' at your house now
—big eyes an' innocent-lookin' like herbut this Californy girl was a lot the best
ookin' of the two—a lot. An' she was ric
—or so everybody thought. This un ain't.
got that out of Ponk 'fore he knowed i
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An'—well, to make a story en
somewhere this side of eternity, I neve
could bear them ramblin' kind of folks—
first thing folks knowed a rich olbachelor got animated with her, just clea
animated , an' literally swore by her
An'—well, things got to missin' a little an
a little more, an', sir—well"—slowly anmpressively—"it turned out at last tha
his girl who they said was so rich was
hief , takin' whatever she could get, 'caus
she was hard up an' too proud to go bac
o Oregon to tell her folks. An' that ric
bachelor jist defended her ever' way—'
say he took things accidental, an' then helher to git 'em back, or git away with the
—it was like a real drammy jist like the
acted out in the picture show t'other nigh
down-town. There was lots of talk, an' i
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nearly broke his sister's—I mean hi
mother's—heart. But, pshaw! that al
happened years ago down in Indiany o
he White River. It's all forgot long 'goGuess I'd never thought of it again if thi
Swim girl hadn't come here with her bi
eyes, remindin' me of that old forgo
eppisode, an' your losin' your pursmysterious. How things happen, year i
an' year out, place after place, the sam
kind of things; good folks everywhere
hough—everywhere. I was in York'
office late yistyday afternoon, an' this gir
comes in. Too bad she's so poor an' so
pretty."There was a venomous twist of the hook
at that word "pretty."
"But she's in trouble some way, all right,
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know, an' York 'll help her out. I wouldn
ask him. Men take more int'rist naturally i
young an' pretty women. But it's differen
with older women. I hope York never gitcaught sometime like that man I knowe
back in Indiany. He's too smart for that
Miss Swim must have told York about he
money shortage yistyday. The postmastesaid she'd been waitin' for a chec
considerable. I couldn't get nothin' out o
him, whether it had come yet or not. But
guess not. But la! la! she's your guest; yo
wouldn't let her suffer; an' I ain't tellin'
soul what I know about things. I do know
what they say, of course. York won't leher suffer. But I'm so much obliged to you
Four dollars will be all I need, an' I'll pa
you with the first bakin's. I guess I'll se
some folks thinkin' when they see I ca
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make my own way—"
Laura Macpherson was on her feet and i
was her eyes now that were holding thwoman of the steel hooks.
"Miss Swaim is our guest, the daughter o
an old friend of the Macphersons. O
course we—"
Oh what was the use? Laura's anger fel
away. It was too ridiculous to engage in
quarrel with the town long-tongue. York
was right. The only way to get along wit
Stellar Bahrr was not to traffic with her
Mrs. Bahrr rose also, gripping at th
chance for escape uninjured.
"I'll see you this afternoon if you still fee
ike helpin' me, an' York is willin'. I clea
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forgot to put out my ice-card. Good day
Good day."
The woman shuffled away, leaving thmistress of "Cluny Castle" in the grip o
many evil spirits. The demon of anger, o
doubt, of contempt, of incipient distrust, o
self-accusation for even listening—thesand others contended with the angel of th
sense of humor and the natural courtesy o
a well-bred woman.
And then the lost purse came up again.
"I may have left it in Jerry's room when
went to that closet after my wrap las
evening. I'll never learn to keep m
clothes out of our guest-room, I suppose,
Laura said to herself, going at once t
Jerry's room.
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As she pushed aside some dresse
suspended by hoops to a pole in th
closet, Jerry's beaded hand-bag fell from
shelf above the hangings, and thfastening, loosened by the fall, let th
contents roll out and lay exposed on th
floor.
As Laura began to gather them up and pu
hem back in their place, she saw her ow
silk purse stuffed tightly into the bottom o
her guest's hand-bag. And then and therhe poison tips of Stellar Bahrr's shaft
began a festering sore deep and difficult t
reach.
t was high noon when York Macpherson
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and his fair companion returned from th
far side of the big Macpherson ranch
Jerry's hair was blown in ringlets abou
her forehead and neck. Her cheeks werblooming and her eyes were like stars
With the fresh morning breeze across th
prairie, the exhilarating ride on horseback
and the novel interest in a ranch whosappointments were so unlike "Eden" an
he other Winnowoc Valley farms, Jerry
had the ecstasy of a new freedom t
quicken her pulse-beat. She had solve
her problem; now she was free for he
romantic nature to expand. It was such
freedom as she had never in her wilful lifknown before, because it had a purpose i
t such as she had never known before,
purpose in which the subconsciou
knowledge of dependence on somebod
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else, the subjection to somebody else'
ultimate control, played no part.
To Laura Macpherson she seemed to haveburst from the bud to the full-blow
flower in one short forenoon.
York's face, however, was wearing tha
mpenetrable mask that even his sister'
keen and loving eyes could never pierce
He had been impenetrable often in the las
few weeks. But of the York back of thaunreadable face Laura was sure. Even i
heir mutual teasings the deep, brotherl
affection was unwavering. As far as it la
n York's power he would never fail tomake up to his companionable sister fo
what circumstances had taken from her
And yet—the substratum of her disturbe
consciousness would send an upheaval t
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he surface now and then. All norma
minds are made alike and played upon b
he same influences. The difference lies i
he intensity of control to subdue or yielo the force of these influences. Things ha
happened in that morning ride that York
had planned merely for the beneficence o
he prairie breezes upon the bewilderepurposes of the guest of the house.
On the far side of the "Kingussie" ranc
he two riders had halted in the shade of clump of wild plum-trees beside the trai
hat follows the course of the Sage Brush
Below them a little creek wound through
shelving outcrop of shale, bordered bsoft, steep earth banks wherever the shal
disappeared. This Kingussie Creek wa
sometimes a swift, dangerous stream, bu
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oftener it was a mere runlet with deep
water-holes carved here and there in th
yielding shale. Just now, at the approac
of July heat, there was only a tiny threaof water trickling clear over yellow rock
or deep pools lying in muddy thickness i
he stagnant places.
"Not much like the Winnowoc," York
suggested, as his companion sat starin
down at the stream-bed below.
"Everything is different here," Jerry said
meditatively. "I've traveled quite a littl
before; been as far as the White Mountain
and the beautiful woodsy country up iYork State. There's a lot of upness and
downness to the scenery, but the people—
except, of course—" Jerry smile
bewitchingly.
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"Except Ponk, of course," York supplied
with a twinkle in his eyes.
"How well you comprehend!" Jerrassured him. "But, seriously, the world i
so different out here—the—the people an
heir ways and all."
"No, Jerry, it isn't that. The climate i
different. The shapes of things differ
nstead of the churned-up ridged an
rugged timber-decked lands oPennsylvania and York State, the Creato
of scenery chose to pour out this lan
mainly a smooth and level and treeles
prairie—like chocolate on the top of ayer cake."
"Chocolate is good, with sand instead o
sugar," Jerry interrupted.
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"But as to the people—the real heart of th
real folks of the Sage Brush—there's n
difference. They all have 'eyes, hands
organs, senses, affections, passions.' Theare all 'fed with the same food, hurt wit
he same weapons, subject to the sam
diseases, healed with the same means
warmed and cooled with the same summeand winter' as the cultured and unculture
folk of the Winnowoc Valley and the city
of Philadelphia. The trouble with us is w
don't take time to read them—nor eve
first of all to read ourselves. Of course
might except old Fishing Teddy, tha
fellow you see away down there wherhe shade is deepest," York added, to
relieve the preachment he didn't want t
seem to be giving, yet really wanted thi
girl to understand. "He's a hermit-crab an
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seldom comes among us. Ever
community has its characters, you know."
"He was among us last night, and wenhome with Joe Thomson," Jerry replied
ooking with curious interest at th
motionless brown figure up-stream in th
shadow of a tall earth bank.
York gave a start and stared at the girl in
surprise. "How do you know? Did the Bi
Dipper come calling on you? That sort onformation is in the Great Bear's line."
Jerry flushed hotly as she remembered he
promise not to tell of Mrs. Bahrr's call. I
a dim sort of way she felt hersel
entangled for the moment. Then she looke
full at York, with deep, honest eyes
saying, simply:
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"Joe Thomson was calling on me las
night, and I saw this old fellow, Han
Theodore, Joe named him, waiting on th
driveway, and the two went awaogether, a pair of aces."
"How do you know, fair lady, that this i
he same creature? And how do youhappen to know Joe Thomson?" York
nquired, blandly, veiling his curiou
nterest with indifference.
"I happened to meet both of these countr
gentlemen on a certain day. In fact, I dined
al fresco with one when I was riding i
my chariot, incognito, alone, unattendeby gallant outriders, about my blank blan
rural estate in the heart of the Sage Brus
country of Kansas. The 'blank blank
stands for a term not profane at all, bu
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one I never want to hear again—that awfu
word 'blowout .'"
Jerry's humor was mixed with sarcasand confusion, both of which troubled th
mind of her companion. This girl had s
many sides. She was so unused to th
Western ways and he was trying to teachher a deeper understanding of huma
needs, and the human values regardless o
geography, when she suddenly revealed
self-possession telling of scraps of heexperience in a matter-of-fact way; an
yet a confusion for some deeper reaso
possessed her at certain angles. Why
That mention of Joe Thomson waannoying to York. Why? Jerry's assumed
familiarity with such a hermit outcast a
he old fisherman was puzzling. Why
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York must get back to solid ground a
once. This girl was throwing him off hi
feet. Clearly she was not going to chatte
dly of all her experiences. She coulknow things and not tell them.
"Seriously, Jerry, there are no
geographical limits for culture anstrength of character. If you stay here lon
enough you will appreciate that," he bega
again where he had thrown himself off th
rail to avoid a preachment.
"Yes," Jerry agreed, with the same degree
of seriousness.
"See, coming yonder." York pointed up
he trail to where a much-worn automobil
came chuffing down the shaly road towar
he ford of Kingussie Creek. "That i
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Thelma Ekblad and her crippled brothe
Paul. If you look right you will see th
same lines of courage and sweetness i
his face that are in my sister's. And yetalthough their lives have been cast i
widely different planes, their crosses ar
he same and they have lifted them in th
same way."
Jerry hadn't really seen the lines in Laur
Macpherson's face, because she had bee
oo full of her own troubles. With York'swords she felt a sense of remorse. Findin
fault with herself was new to her and i
made her very uncomfortable. Also thi
girl coming, this Thelma Ekblad, was thone whom Mrs. Bahrr had said York had
pretended to be interested in once. Jerr
had remembered every word of Stella
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Bahrr's gossipy tongue, because her min
had been in that high-strung, tens
condition last night to receive and hol
mpressions unconsciously, like sensitized plate. The thought now mad
her peculiarly unhappy.
"Joe Thomson's farm is next to hers. Somday I'll tell you her story. It is a story—
real-life drama—and his."
York's words added another degree toJerry's disturbed mental frame.
"How do you do, Thelma? Hello, Paul
Fine weather for cutting alfalfa. M
machines are at it this morning." York
greeted the occupants of the car cordially
"Good morning, York. We are rushing a
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piece of the mower up to the shop. Had
breakdown an hour ago."
Thelma was tanned brown, but her faibraids gleamed about her uncovered head
and when she smiled a greeting her fin
white teeth were worth seeing. Pau
Ekblad waved a thin white hand as the capassed the two on horseback, and th
delicate lines of his pale, studious fac
ustified York's comparison of it with
Laura Macpherson's. Jerry saw hehostess at that moment in a new light
Burdened for the moment as she wa
under the discomfort of what seemed half
consciously to rebuke the frivolous girhat she dimly knew herself to be, th
sudden memory of her resolve declared t
Joe Thomson in the shadow-flecked porc
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he night before came as a balm and
stimulant in one, to give her purpose, self
respect, and peace.
Thus it was that Jerry came in to "Castl
Cluny" at high noon the picture of healt
and high spirits, shaming Laur
Macpherson's doubt and sorrow which hemorning had brought her. Laura wa
horoughly well-bred, and she had, beyon
hat, a strong and virtuous heritage o
Scotch blood that made for uprightnesand sincerity. With one effort she swep
out of her mind all that had harassed i
since the cup episode at the breakfast
able, establishing anew within heunderstanding the force of her brother'
admonition concerning any affiliation wit
he Big Dipper, the town meddler and
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rouble-maker.
Late that afternoon, as Laura sat sewing i
he shade of the honeysuckle-vines, StellaBahrr hurried across lots again an
hitched cautiously up to the side door
Listening a moment, she heard the soun
of Laura's scissors falling on the cemenfloor of the porch, and Laura's impatien
exclamation, "There you go again!" as sh
reached to pick them up and examine th
points of their blades.
Stellar hitched cautiously a little furthe
along the wall, and stood in the shade o
he house, outside the porch vines.
"Laury," she called, in a sibilant voice, "
is' run in to say I won't need that money a
all. I'm goin' to go out sewin', an' I can gi
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all I can do, now the wheat harves
promises so well. Ever'body's spendin
money on clo'es an' a lot of summer an
fall sewin' goin' to rot, you might say. I'lbe jis' blind busy, an' I can sew better tha
can bake or trim. But I'm same obliged."
"Won't you come in?" Laura must not berude, at any cost.
"No, I can't. I must run back. My ligh
bread's raisin' and it'll raise the ruff if don't work the meanness out of it."
Just then Jerry Swaim came boundin
hrough the hall doorway. "Look here
Laura! See what I have found." She hel
up her beaded hand-bag and pulled th
stuffed silken purse out of it. "Now how
did it ever get in there? I'm a good man
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hings, but I never knew I was
shoplifter," Jerry declared, laughingly, a
bit of confused blush making her prettie
han usual.
"Why—why—" Laura was embarrassed
not for Jerry's sake, but on account o
hose steel hooks thrusting themselves inther back through the honeysuckle-vines.
"Say, Laury, I jis' wanted to say I'm goin
o Mis' Lenwell's first. Good-by." StellaBahrr's voice, sharp and thin, cut throug
he vines.
As Laura turned to reply Jerry saw he
fair face redden, and her voice was almos
harsh as she spoke clearly, to be wel
heard.
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"I remember now. I must have put it i
here by mistake when you were down
own yesterday afternoon. I guess I though
t was my bag."
Mrs. Bahrr, turning to go, had caught sigh
of Jerry's hand-bag through the leaves, an
remembered perfectly that Jerry hacarried it with her down-town the da
before, and how well it matched th
beaded trimming of her parasol, her wide
brimmed chiffon hat, and the sequins oher sash trimmings against her sil
walking-skirt.
Jerry recalled taking the bag with her, tooand she recalled just then what Mrs
Stellar Bahrr had hinted about Laura no
wanting York to admire other women
Why did that thought come to the girl'
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mind just now? Was the wish of the evi
mind of the woman hitching away acros
ots and corkscrewing down alleyway
projecting itself so far as this?
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XI
AN INTERLUDE IN
"EDEN"
An interlude should be brief. This one ra
hrough a few midsummer days wit
amazing rapidity, considering that in it
duration the current of a life was change
from one channel, whither it had bee
ending for almost a quarter of a century
o another and widely different course tharan away from the very goal-mark of al
ts years of inspiring ambition.
t was late afternoon of a July day. Jerush
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Darby sat in the rose-arbor, fanning and
rocking in rhythmic motion. The rose
vines had ceased to bloom. Their thinnin
foliage was augmented now by the heavieshade of thrifty moon-vines.
Midsummer found "Eden" no less restfu
and luxuriant in its July setting than it wan the freshness of June.
The afternoon train had crawled lazily up
he Winnowoc Valley on schedule timepermitting Eugene Wellington, in white
flannels, white oxfords, and pink-pin
striped white silk shirt, fresh from shav
and shower-bath, to come on schedulime to the rose-arbor for a conferenc
with Mrs. Darby.
The swift flow of events had no
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outwardly affected the handsome youn
man. The time of the early June roses ha
found him poor in worldly goods, but ric
n a trained mind, a developed genius, yearning after all things beautiful, a fait
n divine Providence, aboundin
confidence in his own power to win to th
mastery in his beloved art, and glorying ihis freedom to do the thing he chose to do
t found him in love, and the almos
accepted lover of a beautiful, wilfu
magnetic girl—a girl with a sturd
courage in things wherein he was lacking
a frivolous, untrained girl, yet wit
surprising dependableness in any crisis. Ifound him the favorite nephew of a quie
uninteresting, rich old money-grubbin
uncle and his dominant, but highl
approving wife, whose elegant home wa
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always open to him the while he fel
himself a pensioner on its hospitality.
Mid-July found him, in effect, the mastewhere he had been the poor relation; th
rich uncle gone forever from earthl
affairs; a dominant aunt still ruling—s
she fancied—as she had always ruled, buwith the consciousness of her firs
defeated purpose rankling bitterly withi
her. It found Eugene still in love with th
same beautiful, wilful girl, but far froany assurance of being a really accepte
over. It found him insensibly forgettin
he aspirations of a lifetime and beginning
ittle by little, to grasp after the Egyptiaflesh-pots. Life was fast becoming a roun
of easy days, whose routine duties wer
more than compensated by its charmin
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domestic settings. The one unsatisfie
desire was for the presence of the bright
nspiring girl who had left a void whe
she went away, for whose return al"Eden" was waiting.
The swift course of events had create
other changes. Some growths are slowand some amazingly swift, dependin
upon the nature of the life-germ in the see
and the soil of the planting. In Eugen
Wellington the love of beauty found itcomfort in his present planting. It wa
easier to stay where beauty was ready
made than to go out and create it in som
ess lovely surroundings. Combine withis artistic temperament an inherent lac
of initiative and courage, a less resistan
force, and the product is sure. Moreover
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his very falling away from the incentiv
o artistic endeavor exacted its penalty i
a dulled spirituality. Whoever denies th
allegiance due, in however small measure, to the call of art within him pay
always the same price—a pound of tende
bleeding flesh nearest his heart. Fo
Eugene Wellington the Shylock knife washarpening itself.
This July afternoon there were n
misgivings in his soul, however—nblack shadows of failure ahead. All th
serpents of "Eden" were very good littl
snakes indeed. After a while he would
paint again, leisurely, exquisitelyespecially would he paint when Jerr
came home.
As he lighted a cigarette, a recent custo
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of his, and strolled down the shady way t
he rose-arbor to meet Mrs. Darby, h
drew deep draughts of satisfaction. It ha
been an unusually good day for himUnusually good. Business had made i
necessary to open some closed records i
he late Cornelius Darby's affairs, record
hat Mrs. Jerusha Darby herself had noyet examined. They put a new light on th
whole Darby situation. They went furthe
and threw some side-lights on the late Ji
Swaim's transactions. Altogether the
were worth knowing. And Eugene
wielding a high hand with himself, had
once for all, stilled his finer sense ofitness in his right to know these things
He had also made rapid strides in thi
brief time toward comprehending busines
ethics as differing from church ethics an
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artistic ethics. Face to face in a conflic
with Jerry Swaim, with Aunt Jerry Darby
with his conscience, his God, he wa
never sure of himself. But as to managinhings, once he had shut his doors an
barred them, he was confident. It was
ruly confident Gene who steppe
promptly into the rose-arbor on thmoment expected. To the old woman
waiting for him there he was good to loo
upon.
"I'm glad you are on time, Gene," Mrs
Darby began, rocking and fanning mor
deliberately. "I'm ready now to settl
matters once for all."
"Yes, Aunt Jerry," Eugene responded
fitting himself gracefully into the setting
of this summer retreat, with a look o
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steady penetration coming into his eyes a
he took in the face before him.
"Any news from the Argonaut to-day?" hasked, at length, as Mrs. Darby sat silentl
rocking.
"Not a line. I guess Jerry is waiting for m
o ask her to come back. She must b
hrough with her romantic fling by thi
ime, and about out of money, too. So
now's the time to act and settle matters, asay, once for all. Jerry must com
home."
"Amen, and amen," Eugene agreed
fervently.
"And if she won't come home herself, sh
must be brought—to see things as we do
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Must , I say, Eugene."
"I'm glad she didn't say 'brought home' i
she's going to send me after her," thyoung man thought. The memory of havin
been sent after Jerry in years gone by, and
of coming back empty-handed, but full
hearted and sore-headed, were still stronwithin him. "How shall we make he
see?" he inquired.
Mrs. Darby rocked vigorously for a fewminutes. Then she brought her chair to
dead stop and laid down the law withou
further shifting of anchors.
"All my property, my real estate, countr
and city, my bank stocks, my governmen
bonds, my business investments—
everything—is mine to keep for m
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ifetime, and to pass by will t
whomsoever I choose. Of course it's onl
natural I should choose the only membe
of my family now living to succeed to mpossessions."
How the "my" sounded out as the woma
alked of her god, to whose service shwas bound, but of whose blessings sh
understood so little!
Eugene sat waiting and thinking.
"Of course, whoever marries Jerry wit
my approval will come into a fortun
worth having."
"He certainly will," Eugene declared
fervently.
A clear vision of Jerry and June rose
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swept his soul with refreshing sweetness
followed by the no less clear imagery o
Uncle Cornie stepping slowly bu
persistently at the wrong moment after hiwabbling discus. He looked away dow
he lilac-walk, unconsciously expectin
he familiar, silent, uninteresting face and
figure to come again to view. To the artisspirit in him the old man was there as rea
o vision as he had been on that last—los
—June day.
"You are thinking of Jerry herself. I am
hinking of her inheritance, which is a dea
more sensible, although Jerry is a
unusually interesting and surprising girl,he old woman was saying.
"Unusually," Eugene echoed. "And in cas
you do not make a will?"
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The young man was still looking down th
ilac-walk as he asked the question
seemingly oblivious to the narrow eyes o
Mrs. Darby scrutinizing his face.
"I have already made it. If things do no
please me I shall change it. I may do tha
half a dozen times if I choose before I'hrough with it. Now listen to me." Th
woman spoke sharply.
Eugene listened, wondering the whilwhat sort of lightning-rod she carried, t
speak with such assurance of all she mean
o do before she was through with th
ransactions of this life. Uncle Cornie hanot been so well defended.
"I want you to write to Jerry to com
home. You can pay her expenses. She wil
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ake the money quicker from you than fro
me. She's as proud as Lucifer in som
hings, once she's set. But she's in lov
with you, and where a girl's in love shistens."
Eugene looked up quickly. "Are yo
sure?" he asked, eagerly.
"Of course I am! Why shouldn't I know
ove when I see it?" Mrs. Darby inquired.
Yes, why?
"But you mustn't give in, nor plead wit
her. Just tell her how well fixed you are
and how much she is missing here, anhat you will wait her time, only she mus
come back, and promise to stay here, o
'll cut my will to bits, I certainly shall. I'l
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write myself to York Macpherson. He'
evel-headed and honorable as truth. If h
was dead in love with Jerry himself—a
he no doubt is by this time—he'd just put iall away if he found out he was denyin
me my rights. I'll put it up to his honor
And so with him at that end of the line
and you here, and me really moving thchessmen, it can't be a losing game
Eugene. It simply can't. Jerry may not ge
ired of her new playthings right away, bu
she will after a while. It isn't natural fo
her to take to a life so awfully differen
from her bringing up. When the new wear
off she'll come home, even if necessitdidn't drive her, as it's bound to sooner o
ater. She's nearly out of money right now
and she can't sponge off the Macpherson
forever and be Jim Swaim's child. I
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everything clear to you now?"
Eugene threw away his cigarette an
ighted a fresh one, his face the while aexpressionless as ever the dry, dull fac
of Cornelius Darby had been. At last h
answered:
"Mrs. Darby has made a will, presumabl
n favor of her niece, Geraldine Swaim—
a will subject to replacement by an
number of wills creating othebeneficiaries. In any event, Mrs. Darb
proposes to have a voice in the fina
disposition of her property."
Mrs. Darby nodded emphatically. "
certainly do."
Eugene smiled approval of such goo
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udgment. "You are right, Mrs. Darby
What is your own you should contro
always. But, frankly, Aunt Jerry, it is
Geraldine Swaim herself who is mfortune—if I can ever acquire it."
"You don't object to her prospects,
hope," Mrs. Darby interrupted, with winkle in her eye.
"I couldn't, for her sake. And I am artisti
enough to love the charm of an estate likhis; and sensible enough, maybe, t
appreciate the influence and opportunit
hat are afforded by the other financia
assets of the Darby possessions. I'll do aln my power to bring Jerry back to a lif
of ease and absence of all anxiety an
responsibility. Shall I go out to Kansa
after her?"
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An uncomfortable feeling about that York
Macpherson had begun now to pull har
upon Eugene's complacent assurance
although he had rebelled a few minuteago at the thought of going anywhere afte
Jerry.
"Never," Mrs. Darby responded. "Iwould just give her another chance fo
adventure and seem to acknowledge tha
we couldn't do without her."
n truth, Mrs. Darby was shrewd enough t
know that with Eugene on the ground sh
could not count on York Macpherson a
her ally. York would naturally championJerry's cause, and she knew that Eugen
Wellington would be no match for the
diplomatic man of affairs whom she ha
known intimately from his childhood.
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"Aunt Jerry, how much do you know of th
value of this Swaim estate?" Eugen
asked, suddenly.
"Very little. Cornelius told me that he had
a full account of it. That was on the ver
day he was—he passed away. The papers
except the one Jerry found here the daafter the funeral, have all been mislaid."
"Then I'd advise you to write to thi
Macpherson person and find out exactlwhat we have to fight against," the youn
man suggested. "Meantime I'll write t
Jerry. I'm sure she should be ready to
isten now. All I claim to know of thabeastly region out West I learned from my
father, but that is enough for me. If ther
were really a bit of landscape worth th
cost of the canvas I might go out there an
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paint it. But who cares to paint in only tw
colors, blue one half—that's sky
unclouded, monotonous; and chrom
yellow, the other half—that's land. I couldpaint the side of the cattle-barn ove
yonder half yellow, half blue, and put a
much expression into it."
Mrs. Darby listened approvingly. "I'
very thankful that you see things s
sensibly. The sooner you replace wha
sn't worth while with what is the sooneyou will know you are a success in you
business. We will write those letters to
night. I'm having your favorite dishes fo
dinner now, and we'll be served here. It iso pleasant here at this time of day. I'll go
and see to things right away, and we'l
have everything brought out pretty soon."
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The owner of all this dainty comfort an
restfulness and beauty hurried away
eaving Eugene Wellington alone in the
rose-arbor—alone with memories of JerrSwaim, and Uncle Cornie, and life, an
ove, and hope and high ambition, an
himself—the self that a man must go righ
with, if he goes with him at all.
For a long half-hour he sat there in th
rose-arbor, the appealing call of hi
divine gift filling his artist soul. Then hiudgment prevailed. What he most wante
o have was here, ready to have now—an
o hold later with only a little patien
waiting. A few weeks, or months, omaybe even a year, a run of four swif
seasons, and the girl of his heart's hear
would come back into her own, and fin
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him ready for her coming. That impossibl
York was not to be considered. Jerry wa
no fool, if she was sometimes a bit foolis
n her pranks. And he, Eugene Wellingtonhad only this day learned of the whol
Swaim situation, what was vastl
valuable to know. Meantime, his the tas
o keep that precious Jerusha Darby wilntact; or, failing in that, came the mor
difficult and delicate task of controlling o
holding back the pen that would writ
another will. And in the end Jerry would
ove him forever for what he would sav
for her—for her—
The memory of what he had learned thaday in the business house in the city cam
with its testimony that he was shaping hi
ife course well. Only one little foxy fea
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dodged about in his mind—the fear tha
Jerry—the Jerry he knew, lovable in spit
of all her little failings, beautifu
picturesque, and surprising—that thiJerry, whom he thought he knew so well
might prove to be an unknowable
unguessable Jerry whose course woul
baffle all his plans, his efforts, his hearongings. It must not be. He would preven
hat. But could he?
The coming of dainty viands witexquisite appointments gave nourishmen
o his ready appetite, and dulled for a tim
he thing within him that sometime mus
cry out to power or be sleeked down intfat and unfeeling subjection.
That night two letters were written to New
Eden, Kansas, but neither writer reall
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knew the reader to whom the letter wa
written, nor measured life purposes by th
same gauge, so setting anew the world-ol
stage for a drama in human affairs whoscrowning act shapes human destinies.
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XII
THIS SIDE OF THE
RUBICON
n the late afternoon of a July Sabbat
Jerry Swaim had gone for a stroll alon
he quiet outskirts of New Eden. Laur
was napping in the porch swing, and York
had gone to his office in answer to
elephone call. Jerry was rarely lonel
with herself and she was a good walkerShe was learning, too, the need for bein
alone with herself, for there were man
hings crowding into her mind tha
demanded recognition.
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Jerry attended church with th
Macphersons every Sunday, but it was
mere perfunctory act on her part. To-day
he minister was away. He had gone to thupper Sage Brush to officiate at th
funeral of Mrs. Nell Belkap that had bee
ell Poser, she of the tow hair and big
unging baby. She had died of congestionfollowing over-heating in cooking fo
hreshing-hands for her mother, her fathe
being the kind of man that objected t
hired help for "wimmin folks." All tha
was nothing to Jerry, who found hersel
wondering, in a vague sort of way, jus
where that baby would sprawl itselfunattached to its mother's anchorage
Babies were not in Jerry's scheme o
hings at all.
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on their way to that up-country Pose
funeral. Why should Paul Ekblad go so fa
o a funeral?
Jerry strolled aimlessly along the smoot
road leading out to the New Ede
cemetery, her bead-trimmed paraso
shading her bare head, and her pale-greeorgandie gown making her appear ver
summery. Jerry had the trick of fitting al
weather except the heated, sand-fille
days of mid-June on a freight-train, whiccondition Junius Brutus Ponk declare
"was enough to muss a angel's wings an
make them divine partial-eclipse ange
draperies look dingier than dish-rags."
There were half a dozen well-grow
cottonwood-trees in the cemetery, wit
rows of promising little elms, catalpas
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and box-elders all symmetrically set. Th
grass was brown, but free from weeds; th
walks were only smooth paths. But th
shade of the cottonwood group, and thquiet of the place, seemed inviting. Ever
foot of the wind-swept elevation wa
visible to the whole town, but the distanc
was guarantee for undisturbed meditationJerry had no interest in cemeteries. Sh
had rarely visited the corner of "Eden
where the few elect by family ties ha
heir last resting-place. She walked dow
he grassy paths toward the larges
cottonwoods, now, indifferent alike to th
humble headstone and the expensive ansometimes grotesque granite memorial. B
he tallest shaft in the place, designated b
Stellar Bahrr as "Granddad Poser'
monniment," she sat down in the shade o
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good-natured. He was so grotesquel
mpossible to her—a caricature cut fro
some comic magazine, rounded out an
animated.
"Say you wouldn't? Now that's rea
queer." The short man opened his littl
eyes wide with surprise. "Now I soadown here regular every Sunday evenin
of the world, summer and winter."
"What for?" Jerry asked, looking up at thspeaker with curiosity.
ew Eden was still in that stage when
funeral was a public event. And the belie
was still maintained that the dead out i
he cemetery must be conscious of ever
attention or lack of it shown to thei
memory by visits and flowers, and th
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price of tombstones. In a word, to th
ew Eden living, the New Eden dea
were not really in the Great Hereafter, bu
here, demanding consideration in thsocial economy of the community.
Ponk was more shocked at Jerry's quer
han she could begin to comprehend, anhis interest in her and pity for her took
still stronger grip on life.
"Why, Miss Swaim, I come out here to semy mother. I 'ain't never failed to bring he
a flower in summer, or a green leaf i
winter, one single Sunday since she wa
aid out there on the south slope onEaster day eight Aprils ago."
"But she isn't there." Jerry spoke gentl
now, realizing that she had hurt hi
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unintentionally.
"She is to me, an' I'd ruther think i
hataway an' feel like I was callin' everSunday, never forgettin'," Ponk said
sadly.
"Where's your dead to you, Miss Swaim?
he asked, after a pause.
Jerry, who was gazing down the Sag
Brush Valley, turned slowly at his words
her big eyes luminous with tears.
"They are not." She waved a hand agains
viewless air.
"Oh yes, they are, walkin' beside yo
every day, lovin' you and proud of you! A
good mother just lives on an' keeps doin
good, and so does a father, if you let 'em.
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Ponk hesitated, and his moon-round fac
was flushed. "I ain't tryin' to preach," h
added, hastily. "They's some things
hough, we all got to cling to or else gehustled off our feet into a big black voi
where we just sink and die. It ain't jus
Sage-Brushers, but it's all Christians—
Baptists and Cammylites and High Churcand everybody. It's safer to stand in th
ight than sink in the bottomless night. But
say, look who's comin' an' see what'
railin' him. I guess I'll be soarin' back t
he hotel now. Pleased to meet you—
always am pleased." Ponk lifted his ha
and bowed uncovered, and uncoverewalked away.
What he had said in the sincerity of hi
spiritual belief fell on fertile soil in th
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mind of his listener. He had preached
sermon to her that was good for her t
hear.
Jerry looked out in the direction he ha
ndicated and saw York Macpherson
walking a bit briskly for him and the plac
and the afternoon.
t was no wonder that Jerusha Darb
should expect York to be caught by the
charms of his guest. As she sat there in thshade of the cottonwoods, where, in al
he cemetery, the blue grass grew rankest
with her pale-green gown, her smoot
pink cheeks, and the wavy masses ogolden-brown hair coiled low at the bac
of her head, York wondered if the spirit o
he wild rose in bloom and the spirit o
some Greek nymph had not combined i
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he personification before him.
At the gateway he met Ponk.
"Why do you run away? I have a specialdelivery letter for Miss Swaim. I though
'd better come and find her, but tha
needn't interfere with you."
"Oh, you smooth-bore! But I have to go
anyhow. I'm headin' off what's trailin' you
Don't look back. It's Stellar Bahrr, comin
out to see who's been to see their folks to
day and who's neglectin' 'em, 'speciall
ate arrivals. She's seen my game, though
now, an' she's shabbin' off to the side gate
knowin' I'd head her back to town. Say
York, she's after Miss Swaim now. You
watch out. Them that's the worthlesses
and has the least influence in a communit
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can start the biggest fires burnin
Everybody in New Eden's been buffaloe
by her—just scared blue—except mayb
us two. You ain't, I know, and I'm righsure I ain't."
"Ponk, you are as good as you are good
ooking," York said, heartily. "The BigDipper could start a tale of our gues
meeting gentlemen friends in the cemetery
And yet for privacy it's about like meetin
hem on the sidewalk before thCommercial Hotel. However, she's starte
scandal with less material. I have busines
with Miss Swaim, so I'll walk home wit
her."
Jerry waited for her host under th
flickering, murmuring leaves of th
cottonwood. She had seen some woma
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wandering diagonally from the cemeter
road toward the corner of the inclosure
but she had no interest in strangers an
might never have thought of her again bufor a word of York's that day.
He had seen the girl looking after Stella
as she made a wide flank movement. Asense of duty coupled with a strang
nterest in Jerry, for which he had as ye
given no account to himself, was urgin
him to tell her, as he had told his sister, tohave no traffic with the town's greates
iability, but with all of Ponk's warning h
could not bring himself to speak now.
"May I sit here with you awhile?" h
asked, lifting his hat as he spoke.
"Certainly. It is so quiet and peaceful ou
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here, and, as I have no associations wit
his place, I can sit here without bein
unhappy or irreverent," Jerry replied.
"I came out to find you. There are caller
at home now, so I'll give you my messag
here, unless you want to follow Mr
Ponk's example and 'soar' off home."
"That man interests me," Jerry declared
"He said some good things about hi
mother just now. And yet he's so—sofunny."
"Oh, Ponk's outside is against him. If h
could be husked out of himself and let th
community get down to the kernel of hi
he is really fine wheat," York said
conscious the while that he had not mean
for some reason, to praise the struttin
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midst of the reading, and the wind-swep
cemetery and all the summer-seare
valley of the Sage Brush vanished. Th
Macphersons; Ponk; Thelma Ekblad in thautomobile by the cemetery gate, holdin
something in her arms, and her fair-haire
brother, Paul; Joe Thomson (why Joe?)—
all were nothing. Before her eyes all waEugene—Eugene and "Eden." Then sh
read on to the end. One reading wa
enough. When York came back she was
sitting with the letter neatly folded into it
envelope again, lying in her lap.
York had a shrewd notion of what tha
etter contained, but there was nothing iJerry's face by which to judge of its effec
on her. Two things he was learning abou
her—one, that she didn't tell all she knew
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after the manner of most frivolous-minde
girls; the other, that she didn't tell anythin
until she was fully ready to do so. H
admired both traits, even though thebaffled him. In his own pocket wa
Jerusha Darby's letter, also speciall
delivered. He sat down by Jerry an
waited for her to speak.
"Were those the people we saw on the
south border of 'Kingussie'?" she asked.
"Yes," York replied.
"Do they interest you?" she questioned.
"Very much."
"Why?" Jerry was killing something—
ime, or thought.
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"Because, as I told you the other day, th
same life problems come to all grades
And life problems are always interesting,
York declared.
"Has Thelma Ekblad a blowout farm
oo?" Jerry's face was serious, but he
eyes betrayed her mood.
"Better a blowout farm than a blowou
soul," York thought. "No. I wonder wha
she would do with it if she had," he saidaloud.
"Just what I am doing, no doubt, since al
of us, 'Colonel's lady and Judy O'Grady
are alike. Tell me more about her," Jerry
demanded.
"She's talking against time now, I know
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but I'll tell her a few things," York
concluded.
"Jerry, there are not many women like thiorwegian farmer girl who is working he
way through the State University down a
Lawrence. A few years ago her brothe
Paul was in love with a girl up the SagBrush, the daughter of a prosperous
stupid, stingy old ranchman. Paul wa
chewed up in a mowing-machine one da
when the horses got scared and ran awaybut his girl was true to him in spite of he
father's objections to him. Then came
woman—a sharp-tongued gossip (she'
over yonder now by the side gate)—whmanaged to stir up trouble purely for th
nfernal joy of gossip, I suppose, betwee
his girl and Thelma. I needn't go int
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detail; you probably do not care much fo
he general outline."
"Go on," Jerry commanded."Well, it was the rough course of true love
over again. Between the father and th
sister the match was broken off, an
before things could be reconciled th
girl's father forced the marriage of hi
daughter to a worthless scamp who pose
as a rich man, or an heir expectant triches. The Ekblads are hard-workin
farmer folk. When it was too late th
misunderstanding was cleared up. Th
rich fellow soon proved a fraud and rascal and a wife-deserter. And the gir
came home with her baby. Her father, as
said, was too stingy to hire help. So thi
girl-mother overworked in threshing-time
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and—was buried this afternoon up th
Sage Brush—old man Poser's daughter
ell Belkap. The Ekblads have just com
from the funeral. Old Poser has refused tcare for Nell's baby and intended to put i
n an orphan asylum. Thelma Ekbla
brought it home with her. It was in he
arms just now, and she's going to keep iand adopt it. When she's away at school—
she has a year yet before she graduates—
hat crippled brother, Paul, will take car
of it. All of which is out of your line
Jerry, but interesting to us in the valle
here."
As York paused and looked at Jerry, alhat Stellar Bahrr had said of him and th
Poser girl swept through her mind. Not th
east meanness of a lie is in its infectiou
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Ekblad will find his solace in caring fo
ell Poser's child and in knowing it wa
her wish that he is fulfilling. That is th
real solace for the loss of loved ones."
Jerry remembered Uncle Cornie and hi
withered yellow hand under her plump
white one as he told her of Jim Swaim'wish for his child.
"If I carry out that wish I will be true t
my father—and—he will be happier," shhought, and a great load seemed liftin
tself from her soul.
"Oh, father, father! You are not in the
Eden' burial-plot. You are here with me.
shall never lose you." The girl's face wa
enderly sweet with silent emotion as sh
urned to the man beside her.
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"I'm glad you told me that story. May
come down to your office in the mornin
for a little conference? I can come at ten."
"Certainly. Come any time," York assured
her, wishing the while that the plea o
Jerusha Darby's that lay in his pocket wa
n the bottom of Fishing Teddy's deep holedown the Sage Brush.
The next morning Jerry Swaim came int
he office of the Macpherson MortgagCompany promptly at the stroke of ten b
he town clock.
"If I were only a younger man," York
Macpherson thought, feeling how th
presence of this girl transformed the roo
she entered—"if I were only younger
would fall at her shrine, without
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question. Now I keep asking myself how
woman can be so charming, on the on
hand, and so characterless maybe, shallow
anyhow, on the other. But the test is on fosure now."
o hint of this thought, however, was i
his face as he laid aside his pen anasked, in his kindly, stereotyped way:
"What can I do for you?"
"You can be my father-confessor for a
minute or two, and then make out my las
will and testament for me," Jerry replied
with a demure smile.
"So serious as all that?" York inquired
gravely, picking up a blank lease form a
f to write.
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"So, and worse," Jerry assured him. But i
an instant her face was grave. "You know
my present situation," she began, "and tha
must decide at once what to do, and thedo it. I'm so grateful that you understan
and do not try to offer me friendship fo
service."
York looked at her earnest face and
glowing dark-blue eyes wonderingly. Thi
girl was forever surprising him, either b
flippant indifference or by unexpectensight.
"You know a lot about my affairs, o
course," Jerry went on, hurriedly. "AunDarby offered both of us—me, I mean,
home with her, a life of independen
dependence on her—charity—for that, a
bottom, was all that it was. And when
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"She is not going to be led , whicheve
way she goes. I told Laura so," wa
York's mental comment.
"Does this finish your 'confession'?" h
asked.
"I may as well tell you the other side o
he story." Jerry's voice trembled a little
"Cousin Gene Wellington was in the same
boat with me, a dependent like myself. Bu
now that he has given up to Aunt Jerry'wishes, I suppose he will be her hei
some day, unless I go back and ge
forgiven."
"This artist's father was in business wit
your father once, wasn't he?" York asked.
"Yes, and there was something I neve
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could understand, and Aunt Jerry neve
mentioned, about that; but she did sa
often that Cousin Gene would make up fo
what John Wellington lacked, if thingwent her way. They haven't all gone he
way—only half of them, so far."
"Do you fully understand what you argiving up, Jerry?" York asked, earnestly
"That life might be a much pleasante
story back East, even if it were a bit les
romantic than the story on the Sage BrushMight not your good judgment take yo
back, in spite of a little pride and th
newness of a different life here?"
As York spoke, Jerry Swaim sat looking
earnestly into his face, but when he ha
finished she said, lightly:
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"I thought before I saw you that you wer
an old man. You seem more like a brother
now. I never had a brother, nor a sister—
nothing but myself, which makes too big houseful anywhere." She grew seriou
again as she continued: "I do understan
what I'm giving up. It was tabulated in
etter to me yesterday, and I do not give upightly nor for a girl's whim now. I hav
my time extended. There seems to b
ndefinite patience at the other end of th
ine, if I'll only be sure to agree at last."
"Pardon me, Jerry, if I ask you if it is
question of mere funds." York spoke
carefully. "I know that Mrs. Darby may bdrawn on at any time for that purpose."
"Did she tell you so?" Jerry asked
bluntly.
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"She did—when you first came here,
York replied, as bluntly.
Jerry did not dream of the struggle thawas on in the mind of the man before her
but her own strife had made her mor
houghtful.
For a little while neither spoke. The
York Macpherson's face cleared, as one
who has reached the top of a difficul
height and sees all the open country on thother side. Jerusha Darby's plea had won.
"Jerry, you do not understand what i
before you. Whoever takes up the busines
of self-support, depending solely on th
earnings that must be won, has a sur
battle with uncertainty, failure, sacrifice
and slow-wearing labor. Of course it is
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glorious old warfare—but it has that othe
side. In the face of the fact that I am you
fortunate host, and that my sister i
happier now than she has ever been beforn New Eden, and hopes to keep you here
urge you, Jerry, to consider well befor
you refuse to go back to your father'
sister and your artist cousin."
The "father's sister" was a master-stroke
t caught Jerry at an angle she had no
expected. But that "artist cousin"! If Genhad been truly the artist, Jerry Swaim ha
yielded then. The failure to be true t
oneself has long tentacles that reach fa
and grip back many things that else hacome in blessing to him who lies to hi
own soul.
"I won't go back. That is settled. Now a
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o my last will and testament, please,
Jerry said, prettily.
"Imprimis," York began, with his pen onhe lease form before him.
"Oh, drop the Latin," Jerry urged. "Say, 'I
Geraldine Darby Swaim, being of soun
mind and in full possession of all m
faculties, and of nothing else wort
mentioning, being about to pass into th
final estate and existence of an old-maischool-teacher, a high-school teacher o
mathematics'—Please set that down."
"So you are going to teach. I congratulat
you." York rose and took the girl's hand.
"Thank you. Yes, I just 'soared' over to the
hotel and signed my contract with Mr
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Ponk and the other two members in goo
standing, or whatever they are." Jerr
would not be serious now. "And th
remainder of my will: 'I hereby give anbequeath all my worldly goods, exceptin
my gear, to wit: one claim of twelv
hundred acres, containing thre
cottonwood-trees, three times three acreof oak timber, and three times three time
hree million billion grains of golde
sand, to the Macpherson Mortgag
Company to have and to hold, free of al
expense to me, and to lease or give awa
o any lunatic, or lunatics, at th
company's good-will and pleasure, for erm not to exceed three million years. Al
of which duly signed and sworn to.'"
As Jerry ran on, York wrote busily on the
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ease form before him.
"Please sign here," he said, gravel
pointing to a blank space when he hafinished. "It is a three years' lease to you
property herein legally described. Th
Macpherson Mortgage Company will pa
you twenty-five cents per acre, per yearwith the exclusive right to all the profit
accruing on the land, and to sublease th
same at will."
"That is about half of what Aunt Jerr
spent on my wardrobe just before I cam
West," Jerry exclaimed. "But I couldn
ake twenty-five cents a year. I've seen thproperty, you know, and I don't wan
charity here any more than I did i
Philadelphia."
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"Then sign up the lease. This is business
Our company is organized on a strictl
financial basis for strictly financia
ransactions. It is a matter of 'valureceived' both ways with us."
York Macpherson never trifled in
business matters, even in the smallesdetails, and there was always somethin
commanding about him. It pleased hi
now to note that Jerry read every word o
he document before accepting it, and hwondered how much a girl of suc
nherent business qualities in the smal
details of affairs would waver i
steadfastness of purpose in the largenterests of life.
"Will you let me give a receipt for th
cash instead of taking a check?" Jerr
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"If I give my word to exclude every on
else from knowing of this transaction i
means every one—even my sister Laura.
York looked at Jerry questioningly.
"Even your sister Laura," Jerry repeated
conclusively.
York was too well-bred to ask her why
and, while he voluntarily refrained fro
elling his sister many things, she was hi
counselor in so many affairs that hwondered not a little at Jerry's request
while he chafed a little under his promise
He was so accustomed to being master o
himself in all affairs that it surprised hio find how easily he had put himsel
where he would rather not have bee
placed.
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Half an hour later Joe Thomson came int
he office.
"What can I do for you to-day, Joe?" Yorknquired.
"Do you control the sections south o
mine?" Joe asked. "I want to lease them
but I shouldn't care to have the owne
know anything about it."
"That old blowout! What's your idea
Joe?"
"I want to try an experiment," Joe replied
York Macpherson had the faculty oreading some men like open books.
"You must have been hanging around
eavesdropping this morning. I just got
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hree years' lease on Miss Swaim's land a
wenty-five cents an acre, and here yo
come for it. I took it on a venture, o
course, hoping to sell sand to the newcement-works up the river, sand bein
scarce in these parts." There was
winkle in York's eyes as he said this. "
can sublease it, of course, and at the samprice, but you know, Joe, that the land i
worthless."
"I don't know it," Joe said, stubbornly"You seem to have been willing enough to
get the lease secured this morning."
York ignored the thrust. "You know eased that land merely to help Mis
Swaim, but you don't know yet whether o
not you can tame your own share of tha
nfernal old sand-pile that you want to pu
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a mortgage on your claim to fight," York
reminded him.
"I'll take a part of that loan to pay for thease, and the rest I'll use on the Swai
and, not on mine. I'm going to go beyon
he blowout to begin, and work north th
same way it goes," Joe explained.
"All of which sounds pretty crazy to me
You are shouldering a big load, young
man—a regular wildcat venture. There'one of you to myriads of sand-heaps
You'll have to take the Lord Almighty into
partnership to work a miracle before yo
win out. I've known the Sage Brush sinche first settler stuck in a plow, and I'v
never known one single miracle yet,
York admonished him.
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"As to miracles," Joe replied, "they are a
every-day occurrence on the Sage Brush
f you can only look far enough abov
money-loaning to see them, you Shylock."
Calling York Macpherson a Shylock wa
standard humor on the Sage Brush, he wa
so notoriously everybody's friend anhelper.
"And I've had to take the Lord in for
partner all my life," Joe added, seriously.
York looked at the stern face and stalwar
form of the big, sturdy fellow before him
recalling, as he did so, the youn
ranchman's years of struggle through hi
boyhood and young manhood.
"Of course you can win," he assured Joe
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"Your kind doesn't know what failure
means. It isn't the work , it is the stake tha
makes me uneasy."
Joe looked up quickly and York knew tha
he understood.
"I read your page clearly enough, my boy,
he said, earnestly. "You are taking a hand
n a big game, and the other fellow keep
his cards under the table. Blowouts ar
not as uncertain as women, Joe. Let mell you something. You will find it out
anyhow. I can ease the thing up now. Back
n Philadelphia a rich old widow ha
given two young lovers the opportunity tearn their living or depend on her bount
—a generous one, too. Being childles
and selfish, she secretly wanted to hol
hem dependent on her, that she ma
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demand their love and esteem. It is an ol
mistake that childless wealth an
selfishness often make. The girl, bein
emperamentally romantic and inherentlstubborn, voted to go alone. These things
rather than any particularly noble motiv
—I hate to disillusion you, Joe, but I mus
hold to facts—have landed her practicallpenniless in our midst; and she is no
acquainted yet with either lack of mean
or the labor of earning. The young man
gifted in himself, which his sweet-heart i
not, son of a visionary spendthrift, ha
chosen the easier way, a small clerkship
and a luxurious home seeming softer to hiartistic nature than the struggling up-climb
with his real gift. This old lady won't las
forever. Her disinherited niece won't wan
o work at teaching forever. The waitin
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clerk will come after the heir apparent jus
when she is most tired of the Sage Brus
and the things thereof, and—they will liv
amely ever after on the aunt's money. Doyou see what you are up against, Joe
Don't waste energy on a dream—wit
nothing to show for your labor at last bu
debt and possible failure, and the beautifuSage Brush Valley turned to a Sodom
before your eyes."
"Whenever you are ready I'll sign up thease," was Joe's only reply.
So the transaction was completed i
silence.
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III
JERRY AND EUGENE—
AND JOE
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XIII
HOW A GOOD MOTHER
LIVES ON
ew Eden never saw a more beautifu
autumn, even in this land of exquisit
autumn days, than the first one that Jerr
Swaim passed in the Middle West. And
Jerry reveled in it. For, while she missed
he splendid colorings of the Easter
woodlands, she never ceased to marvel ahe clear, bright days, the sweet, bracin
air, the wondrous sweeps of landscape
overhung by crystal skies, the mist
wreathed horizons holding all the softe
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hues, from jasper red to purest amethys
hat range the foundation stones o
heaven's walls as Saint John saw them i
his dream exquisite.
t had never occurred to Jerry that a beaut
mpossible to a wooded broken countr
might be found on the October prairiesHer dream of a Kansas "Eden" exactl
ike the Pennsylvania "Eden," six time
enlarged, had been shattered with on
glimpse of her possession—a possessiohenceforth to be a thing forgotten. But lif
had opened new pages for her and sh
was learning to read them rapidly an
well.
One thought of the past remained
however. The memory of a romance begun
n her Eastern home would not die wit
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he telling. And while Jerry Swai
persuaded herself that what Eugen
Wellington called success to her wa
failure, and while every day widened thbreach between the two, time and distanc
softened her harsher judgment, and sh
remembered her would-be lover with
ender sadness that made her heart cold the thought of any other love.
This did not make her the less charming
however—this pretty girl without anrace of coquetry, who knew how to wi
hearts to her. Sure of the wideness tha
separated her life from the life of the Sag
Brush Valley, she took full measure onterest in living, unconsciousl
postponing for herself the future's need fo
he solace of love. The small income fro
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determination to win—to prove to Aun
Jerry Darby and Eugene Wellington tha
she had made no mistake; and until victor
was hers she would be silent about heendeavors.
The Macphersons had insisted that Jerr
should remain their guest at least until thopening of the school in September. And
f the girl imagined that she found a fain
hint of fervor gone from Laur
Macpherson's urging, her hostess made ufor it in the abundant kindness of little act
of hospitality. Jerry was frankly troubled
and yet she could not say why, for it wa
all the impressions of a mind sensitized tcomprehend unspoken things. Jerry'
memory would call up that incident of th
ost purse found in her hand-bag, and o
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Laura's excuse for it, which she, Jerry
knew was impossible. And yet the girl fel
hat it was a contemptible thing to imput
a distrust to Laura that, placed in the samposition, she herself would scorn t
harbor.
"I see no way but the everlasting run oevents. I wish they would run fast an
clear it up," Jerry said to herself
dismissing the matter entirely, only to
have it bobbing up for consideration agaion the first occasion.
At the close of a hot summer day Jerr
was in her room, finishing a letter tJerusha Darby, to whom she wrot
faithfully, but from whom she had rarel
received a line. York and Laura were on
he porch, as usual. The hammock that da
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had been swung to a shadier position, o
account of the slipping southward of th
ate summer sun; and Laura forgot tha
Jerry's window opened almost against inow, so that she could hear all that wa
said at that corner of the porch. As Jerr
finished her letter she caught a sentenc
outside that interested her. She wannocent of any intention of eavesdroppin
afterward, but what she heard held he
motionless.
"The leak has opened again, York," Laura
was saying. "Things are beginning t
disappear, especially money."
York's face took on a sort of bulldog
grimness, but he made no reply.
nside, Jerry glanced at her beaded hand
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bag lying on the top of the little desk
saying to herself:
"I'll open a bank-account to-morrow. I'vbeen foolish to leave that roll of bill
ying around; all I have, too, between m
and the last resort in Kansas—'to go ma
or go back East.' I'm certainly a brillianbusiness woman—I am."
And then, unconscious at first that she wa
istening, her ear caught what followeoutside:
"York, the queer thing is that it's just a
Castle Cluny' that things are disappearin
right now. Mrs. Bahrr was over to-da
and told me the Lenwells had even gone t
Kansas City and forgot to lock their bac
door, and not a thing was missing
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although Clare Lenwell left five silve
dollars stacked up on the dresser in plai
view."
"If anybody would know the particulars i
would be the Big Dipper," York declared
"Oh, now don't begin on that tune, York
for I'm really uneasy," Laura began.
"For why?" York inquired.
And then Laura told him the story of heost purse, omitting Stellar Bahrr's part i
he day's events, and adding:
"Of course, I hate myself for even darino carry a hint of suspicion for a minute
but Jerry knew as well as I did that
hadn't put my purse in her hand-bag b
mistake, for she carried it with her up
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own that day. But I could forget the whol
hing if it had ended there. I know that th
dear girl was dreadfully short of mone
until just recently. Now her purse is full obills. I couldn't help seeing that when sh
displays it so indifferently. She says sh
will have no funds from Philadelphia
Where does she get money when I cankeep a bill around the house?"
"Then I would quit the stocking-to
banking system that mother and all thother women and most of the men back i
Winnowoc used to employ. You might try
he First National Bank of New Eden. I'
one of the directors, and a comparativelsafe man for all that," York advised
gravely.
"The loss of the money is nothing to th
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possible loss of confidence," Laura wen
on, ignoring her brother's thrust. "Coul
such a thing be possible that this dear gir
s discouraged and tempted to hide henecessities?" The woman's voice was ful
of kindly sorrow. "York, couldn't you tel
her?"
"I see myself doing that," York fairly
exploded. "Laura, there may be a big lea
n this house where valuables see
hrough. I'm not saying otherwise. But afor Jerry Swaim, it's simply preposterou
—impossible. Never let such a thing cros
your mind, let alone your lips again, yo
dear best of sisters. You know you don'believe a word of it."
"I know I don't, too, York; of course
don't; but I must have needed you to assur
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me of it. It all began in circumstance an
an ugly suspicion that a story of Stella
Bahrr's suggested. And when I missed m
own money and saw that great roll of bill—Oh, I must be crazy or just a plai
human creature full of evil—"
"Or both," York added. "We are all moreor less human and more than less crazy
especially if we will listen to old wives
ales against the expressed command o
our wise brothers. As for Jerry havinmoney"—York suddenly recalled hi
promise to Jerry not to discuss her affair
—"it's hardly likely she would displa
carelessly what was acquired by extremcare. Let's call her out here and think o
better things."
As Laura looked up she realized for th
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first time the nearness of the hammock t
Jerry's open window. The grief of bein
overheard by one whom she would no
wound for worlds, with the self-rebukfor giving ear to Stellar Bahrr's gossip
almost overcame her.
"You go after Jerry, please," she saidfaintly.
York went into the hall, calling at Jerry'
open door, but she was not there. Hooked in the living-room, but it wa
empty. Through the dining-room he passed
o the side porch, where a dejected, lonel
ittle figure was half hidden by the vinehat covered it. At sight of her York
stopped to get a grip on himself.
At her host's explosive declaration, "I se
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myself doing it," Jerry had come t
herself. Surprised and wounded, bu
realizing the justice of the ground fo
suspicion against her—her—Jerry Swaimwho had always had first concern in thos
about her—she left her room hastily an
passed out of the house by the side door
n the little vine-covered entry she sadown and stared out at the lawn, wher
he fireflies were beginning to twinkl
against the shrubbery bordering th
driveway. She had thought the dispositio
of her estate, and the choice of occupation
and the putting away of Eugen
Wellington, had settled things for hefuture. Here was the fulfilling of a sens
of something wrong that had recentl
possessed her, hardly letting itself b
more than a sense till now. What did lif
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mean, anyhow? "To go mad or go back
East?" Why should she do either one, wh
had not offended anybody?
As Jerry gazed out at the shadowy sid
awn the sound of a step caught her ear—
shuffling of feet across the grass, and th
noise of a hard sole on the cemendriveway. Jerry's eyes mechanicall
followed a short, shambling figure
suggesting a bear almost as much as
human being, as it passed forward a steor two; then, dividing the spirea-bushes o
he farther edge, it disappeared into th
deeper shadow of the slope toward th
own below "Kingussie."
t was Fishing Teddy—old Han
Theodore; Jerry recognized him at
glance, and in the midst of her confuse
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struggle to find herself she paused t
wonder about him. Intense mental state
often experience such pauses, when th
mind grappling in an internal combat restfor a moment on an impression comin
hrough the senses.
"What's the old Teddy Bear doing here?Jerry asked herself, and then sh
remembered his coming once befor
almost to this very spot. That was the nigh
Joe Thomson had called—the big farmewhose property her own was helping t
destroy. There was something strong and
unbreakable about this Joe. A million
eagues from her his lot was cast, ocourse, and yet she hoped somehow tha
Joe might be near and that the Teddy Bea
was waiting for him.
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"Jerry! Jerry!" York called through the
hall, and then he came out to where she sa
on the side porch.
"I was hunting for you. You have a caller
my lady, a gentleman who wants to tak
you for a ride up the river. It will b
gloriously cool on the ridges up-streamHe will give you a splendid hour befor
he curfew rings—the lucky dog!"
Jerry looked up expectantly. "It must bJoe Thomson," she thought, and she wa
glad to have him come again.
On the front porch little Junius Brutu
Ponk was strutting back and forth, chattin
with Laura.
"Good evening, Miss Swaim. I just soare
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down to invite you to take a little drive i
my gadabout. I hope it will suit you to go.
"Nothing would please me more," Jerrsaid, lightly. "Let me get my wrap." A
she returned to her room her eye fell o
her hand-bag, lying on her desk. A sense
of grief swept over her, for one momentfollowed by a strange lightness of heart a
f her latest problem had solved itsel
suddenly.
As they passed down the walk to the littl
gray car York Macpherson looked afte
hem, conscious of the impossible thing i
Ponk's mind, and wondering wherein lahe charm of this pink-and-whit
nefficient girl to grip with so strong
hold on the heart of a sensible man lik
Ponk.
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"It is her power to be what she has neve
been, but what she will become," he sai
o himself. "She's the biggest contradictio
o all rules that I ever knew, but she's dead-sure proposition."
The coming of callers found York in his
best mood, and when his sister bade higood night he put his arms around her
saying, gently:
"You are the best woman in the worldLaura, and you mustn't carry a singl
hidden worry."
"Neither must you, York," Laura replied
and each knew that the other understood.
Meantime, out on the upper Sage Brus
road Jerry was letting the beauty of th
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evening lift the weight from her mind. Sh
was just beginning to understand tha
while she had imagined herself to b
doing her own thinking heretofore, she habeen merely willing that her thinkin
should be done for her. She was now a
he place where her will meant little an
her judgment everything in shaping heacts. The recognition brought a sense o
freedom she had never known before
What she had overheard from the porc
seemed far away, and her wounded spiri
grew whole again as she began to fin
herself standing on her own feet, no
commanding that somebody else shoulhold her up. Jerry's mind worked rapidly
and before the gray car had been turned a
he northern end of the evening's ride i
was not the Jerry Swaim of an hour ago
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but a young warrior, clad in armor, with
shining weapons in her hand, who sa
beside the adoring little hotel-keeper o
he faulty grammar and the kindly heart.
Ponk halted the car at the far end of th
drive up-stream, to take in a moonligh
view of the Sage Brush Valley.
"Them three lights down yonder's th
court-house an' the school-house an' th
station. The other town glims are all hiby trees an' bushes and sundry in th
wrinkles of the praira." Ponk always sai
"praira." "But it's a beautiful country whe
you douse the sunshine and turn on thstarlight, or a half-size moon like tha
young pullet in the west sky yonder. Eve
see the blowout by moonlight? Sort
reclaims its cussed ugliness, you migh
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say, an' the dimmer glow softens down an
subdues the infernal old beas
considerable."
Jerry turned quickly toward he
companion. "Blowout is a word taboo i
my presence," she said, gravely
"Anybody who wants to be listed as friend of mine will never mention it to me
for to me there is no such thing. I have n
real estate in Kansas, nor anywhere else
for that matter. I'm just a poor orphanchild." The girl smiled brightly. "All th
world is mine, even though none of i
really belongs to me. If you want m
good-will, even my speakinacquaintance, you'll remember the road t
t is never to mention that horrid thing t
me again."
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"I never won't," Ponk declared, seriously
"If that's the only restriction, I'm in th
middle of your good-will so far I'll neve
find the outside gate again."
"I hope you won't," Jerry said, lightly.
"I'm seriouser than you are, Miss Swaim
and I asked you to take this ride for thre
reasons," Ponk returned.
"Name them," Jerry demanded, in the di
ight noting the flush on his round cheeks.
"Firstly, and mainly, just selfish pleasure
Secondly, because I wanted to do you
favor if I might presume, and thirdly, toell you why I wanted to do it."
"You are very kind," Jerry said, sincerely
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"What I want to say in that favor busines
s the same I told York to say that Sunday
we met you in the cemetery, where I'd
been callin' on mother, and you come toget away from New Eden and all that in i
s, for a little while. You remember York
came trailing after you with some excus
or other, an' right behind him comeanother trailer, a womankind?"
"I remember York, that's all," Jerry
replied, trying to recall the woman, whoshe had forgotten.
"Well, she didn't forget you. It's tha
Stellar Bahrr, and she made capitalprincipal, and compound interest out o
he innocent event, as she does out o
every move everybody in that burg makes
But don't let it disturb you a mite."
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"I won't," Jerry replied, indifferently. "Bu
ell me why she should make capital out o
me?"
"'Cause she hates you," Ponk said, calmly
"Me? Why?" Jerry's eyes were black now
and the faintly gleaming ripples above he
white forehead and her faintly pink cheek
n the light of the moon made a deliciou
picture.
"Just because you are you, young
admired. I don't dare to say no more, n
matter what I feel. It's a snaky jealousy
and she'll trail you constant. It's got to b
he habit of her life, and it's ruined her a
t will any person."
"Well, let her trail." Jerry's voice had a
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clear defiance now. "I'm here to earn a
honest living by my own efforts. I shal
pay my bills and take care of my ow
business. I have not intentionally injureanybody."
She paused and remembered Laur
Macpherson, her shapely hands grippeogether, emphasizing her unbreakabl
determination.
"And you are goin' to win. Don't never bafraid of the end and finis. But, knowin
Sage Brush, an' how scared it is of Mrs
Bahrr, yet listenin' constant to every word
she says, I felt it my duty to warn you obreakers ahead. I've known more 'n one
bein' innocent, to fall for her tricks. And
'm telling you out of pure kindness
There's only two ways to handle her—
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keep still and try to live above her, o
stand straight up an' tell her to go to th
devil. Excuse me, Miss Swaim, I'm no
really a profane man, but I mean well byou, and I'm not just settin' here to gossip
about a fellow-citizenness."
"I know you mean well, Mr. Ponk. Youhave been more than kind to me ever sinc
he night I reached New Eden, and I d
appreciate your friendship and good
will," Jerry said, earnestly. "Now as toMrs. Bahrr, which course do you advis
me to follow?"
Junius Brutus Ponk was hanging on everword of Jerry's, and his face was a ful
moon of pleasure, for he was frankly an
madly in love with her, and he knew it.
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"I can't advise at all; it just ain't for me t
do that. You are honorin' us by stoppin' in
our midst. What I want you to do is to b
on the lookout, an' if things start wronganywhere—school or church or with you
friends, the Macphersons, for instance, a
hey might—just run down old Stella
before you go to guessin', omisunderstandin', and if you can't do i
alone"—Ponk smote his broad boso
dramatically—"I'm here to help. Tha
eads me to the thirdly of my triple
purpose in askin' the pleasure of you
company."
Jerry looked up with a smile. The littlman was so thoroughly good, and yet s
mpossible. York Macpherson seemed
head and shoulders above any other ma
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she had ever known in her life—excep
her father. In fact, he seemed like a sort o
father to her—and Joe Thomson. That wa
ust a shadow across her consciousnessfor all these men belonged here and a
heart were not of her world.
"Miss Swaim, will you let me, without nrecompense, be a friend at court wheneve
you need my help? You seem to me like a
sort of female Robinson Crusoe cast awa
on the desert island of the Sage Bruscountry in Kansas. Let me be your Ma
Friday. I'd like to be your Saturday and
Sunday and Monday and Tuesday and
Wednesday. York Macpherson wouldcome lopin' in to claim Thursday,
reckon."
The sincerity of the fat little man offset th
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pompous ridiculousness of his speech.
"If I seem cuttin' into the Macpherso
melon-patch it's because I got on to somof Stellar Bahrr's gossip that set m
hinkin'. She's up to turnin' Miss Laur
against you because of York's admiring
you so much."
Jerry grasped the situation now. Th
hotel-keeper was not only wishing t
befriend and shield her—he thought hwas in love with her. And he thought tha
York Macpherson was also in love. Was
he? The girl's mind worked rapidly. Littl
as she cared for the opinion of NewEdenites, outside of these three goo
friends, she realized that these same New
Edenites were interested in her and dare
o discuss her affairs; and that if sh
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stayed here, as she meant to do, she mus
meet them and be, in a way, of them. How
much of this newly discovered admiratio
which her companion evidently felt, anwhich he felt sure York Macpherson
possessed, might be really the outgrowt
of pity for her in the new position i
which she found herself? And there waLaura. Stellar Bahrr had hinted about he
being neglected by her brother for othe
women. Whatever might be the rea
motive, Jerry and love had parte
company on the day that Eugen
Wellington's letter had come telling of hi
renunciation of his art for an easclerkship. But Laura didn't know that, an
she might have heard the town-meddler—
Oh, bother Stellar and all her works! Jerr
Swaim would have none of them. And
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Laura was such a sweet, companionable
refined friend. This thing must b
overcome in some way.
"Tell me, Mr. Ponk, why do the New Ede
people listen to a sharp-tongued trouble
maker, since they know her power?" Jerr
asked, after a pause.
"Why? 'Cause they enjoy it when 'tain
about them—all of us do that, bein' human
Are you right sure you wouldn't believher yourself, much as you despised an
story of hers you'd be forced to listen to
Well as I know her, I have to keep
pinchin' my right arm to see if it's gonerve enough to strike back if I'm hit, yo
might say."
On Jerry's cheeks the bloom deepened
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She had let a word of Mrs. Bahrr's set he
o wondering about both her host an
hostess.
"They's one more thing I want to say, th
hird reason for askin' you out thi
evenin'," Ponk went on, and the pompou
manner fell from him somewhat in hiearnestness. "I don't want you to leav
Macpherson's home for anything, righ
now. They want you and—well, I hop
you won't. Even at the loss of a boardefor myself at the hotel and gurrage I hop
you won't. But if some time—if it wa
ever possible you'd find a need for m
more 'n what we spoke of—I ain't nshow. I'm clear below your society bac
East, but, if you ever needed a rea
devoted, honest man who tried to be
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Christian—"
Jerry caught his full meaning now. "You
are a Christian, Mr. Ponk. I'm not. You arekind to me in my need, and I shall rely o
your sincerity and your friendship, and i
here is any way in which I could return i
even in a small measure, I would be shappy. We will be the best of friends."
Jerry's smile was winsome as she frankl
put out her hand to seal the bond in a claspof good-fellowship. And Junius Brutu
Ponk understood.
"It's no use," he said to himself, sadly. "
wish it might have been, but it ain't. I ain
such a fool I can't see a door when it's shu
right before me. I'm blessed to be he
friend, and I'll be it if the heavens drop
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'm in my Waterloo an' must just wade
across an' shake myself. That's all."
His sunny nature always overcame hidisappointments, but from that hour in a
upper niche of his heart's shrine he place
Jerry's image, one of the beautiful thing
of life he might do homage to but coulnever possess.
"They's just one favor I want to ask o
you," he said, aloud, "an' that is that you'lgo with me to call on mother out to th
cemetery sometimes. I'd like her to know
you, too. She was good, and a goo
mother just lives on."
Jerry's cheek paled a shade, but she said
graciously: "I'll be glad to do that, Mr
Ponk. Maybe it will make me a little les
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rebellious, and you will be doing me th
favor."
Ponk's face beamed with pleasure at hewords the while a real tear rolle
unnoticed down his cheek. That nigh
marked the beginning of a new spiritua
ife for Jerry Swaim.
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XIV
JIM SWAIM'S WISH
The next morning, when Jerry Swaim waready to go to the bank, her pretty beade
bag seemed light as she lifted it, and whe
she opened her purse she found it empty
Then she sat down and stared at herself ihe mirror opposite her.
"Well, what next? Go mad or go back
East? This must be the last ditch," shmurmured. "Joe Thomson said he didn't g
mad, but he did get mad. I'm mad clear t
my Swaim toes, and I'm not going to tak
another bump. It's been nothing but bump
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ever since I reached the junction of th
main line with the Sage Brush branch bac
n June, and I'm tired of it. Gen
Wellington said the West got the better ohis father. The East seems to have gotten
he best of his father's son."
Across her mind swept the thought of howeasy Gene's way was being made for hi
n the East, and how the way of the Wes
for her had to be fought over inch by inch.
"Neither East nor West shall get me." She
ossed her head imperiously, for Ji
Swaim's chin, York Macpherson would
have said, was in command, and thdreamy eyes were flashing fire.
An hour later Ponk's gray runabout wa
spinning off the miles of the trail down th
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Sage Brush, with Jerry Swaim's hand
gripping the wheel firmly, though he
cheeks were pink with excitement. Wher
a road from the west crossed the trail, thstream cut through a ledge of shale
eaving a little bluffy bank on either side
with a bridge standing high above th
water.
Joe Thomson, in a big farm wagon, ha
ust met his neighbor, Thelma Ekblad, i
her plain car, at the end of the bridgewhen Jerry's horn called her approach
Before they had time to shift aside the gra
car swept by with graceful curve, missin
he edge of the bridge abutment by aeyelash.
"Great Scott! Thelma, I didn't notice tha
his big gun of mine was filling up all th
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road," Joe exclaimed. "That was th
neatest curve I ever saw. That's Ponk's ca
from New Eden, but only a civi
engineer's eye could have kept out of thriver right there."
"The pretty girl who is visiting th
Macphersons was the driver," Thelmsaid.
"No! Was it, sure?" Joe queried, looking
with keen eyes down the trail, whither thgray runabout was gliding like a bird o
he wing.
"Why, of course it was!" Thelma assured
him, feeling suddenly how shabby her ow
machine became in comparison. "I must g
now. Come over and see Paul when you
can."
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"I will. How is the baby?" Joe asked.
"Oh, splendid, and so much company fo
Paul!" Thelma declared."Yes, a baby is the preacher and the
whole congregation sometimes. Let m
know if you need any help. Good-by."
So in neighborly good-will the
separated, Joe to follow the gray ca
down the trail, and Thelma to wonde
briefly at the easy life of the beautifu
Eastern girl whose lot was so unlike he
own. Only briefly, however, for Thelma
was of too happy a temperament, of to
calm and philosophical a mentality, to
grieve vainly. It always put a song in he
day, too, to meet Joe upon the way. No
only on common farm topics were she an
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Joe congenial companions, but in politics
he latest books, the issues of foreig
affairs, the new in science, they found
common ground.
Joe's thoughts were of the Eastern gir
oo, as he thundered down the trail in hi
noisy wagon.
"I wish I could overtake her before sh
gets to the forks of the road," he said t
himself. "I know she's not going to go mway farther than that. But why is she her
at all? There's nobody living down th
river road for miles, except old Fishin
Teddy. She did dine at his expense the dayshe came out to her sand-pile. He told m
all about it the night when we rode dow
from town together. Funny old squeak h
s. But he can't interest her. Hello! Yonder
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we are."
n three minutes he was beside the gra
car, that was standing at the point wherhe river road branched from the mai
rail.
"Good morning, Mr. Thomson. I knew yo
were coming this way, so I waited for yo
here. I don't go down that road. You know
why."
Jerry pointed toward the way down whic
her own land lay.
Joe lifted his hat in greeting, his cheek
flushing through the tan, for his hearwould jump furiously whenever he cam
nto this girl's presence.
"Good morning, Miss Swaim. I am gla
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you waited," he managed to say. "You
certainly know how to guide a car. I didn
know I was filling the whole highway up
at the bridge."
"Oh, there was plenty of room," Jerr
said, indifferently.
"Yes, plenty if you know how to stick to
t. That's the secret of a lot of things,
guess—not finding a wider trail, bu
knowing how to drive straight through ohe one you have found."
Joe was talking to gain time with himself
for he was inwardly angry at being upse
every time he met this pretty girl.
This morning she seemed prettier tha
ever to his eyes. She was wearing a coo
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gray-green hat above her golden-gleamin
hair, and her sheer gingham gown wa
stylishly summery. Exquisite taste i
dress, as well as love of romance, was heritage from Lesa Swaim.
"You are a real philosopher and a poet,
Jerry exclaimed, looking up with wideopen eyes.
"A sort of Homer in homespun," Jo
suggested.
"Probably; but I have a prose purpose i
detaining you and I am in great luck t
have found you," Jerry replied.
"Thank you. The luck will be mine if I ca
serve you."
The bronze young farmer's gallantry wa
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as gracious as ever the well-groome
Philadelphia artist's had been.
"Kansas seems determined to get rid ome, if hard knocks mean anything. I've ha
nothing but bumps and knotty problem
since I landed on these sand-shiftin
prairies. It makes me mad and I'm nogoing to be run off by it." Jerry's eye
were darkly defiant and her lifted han
seemed strong to strike for herself.
"You have the real pioneer spirit," Joe
declared. "It was that very determinatio
not to be gotten rid of by a sturdy bunch o
forefathers and mothers that has subdued state, sometimes boisterous an
belligerent, and sometimes snarling an
catty, and made it willing to eat out o
heir hands."
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"Oh, it's not all subdued yet. It never wil
be." Jerry pointed down the trail towar
he far distance where her twelve hundre
blowout-cursed acres lay.
Joe Thomson's mouth was set with
bulldog squareness. "Are we less abl
han our forefathers?" he asked.
"As to sand—yes," Jerry replied, "but t
myself, as a first consideration, I'
dreadfully in trouble."
"Again?"
"Oh, always—in Kansas," Jerry declared
"First my whole inheritance is smotheren plain sand—and dies—hard bu
quickly. Then I fight out a battle fo
existence and win a schoolmarm's crow
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of—"
"Of service," Joe suggested, seriously.
"I hope so. I really do," Jerry assured him"Next I lease my—dukedom for a smal
but vital sum of money on which to exis
ill—till—"
"Yes, till wheat harvest, figuratively
speaking," Joe declared.
"And this morning my purse is emptyrobbed of every cent, and my pearl
handled knife and a button-hook."
Joe had left his wagon and was standinbeside Jerry's car, with one foot on th
running-board.
"Stolen! Why, why, where's York?" he
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asked, in amazement.
"I don't know. I don't think he took it,
Jerry replied."Oh, but I mean what's he doing about it?
Joe questioned, anxiously.
"Nothing. He doesn't know it. I came tfind you first, to get you to help me."
"Me!" Joe could think of nothing more t
say.
"You won't scold, and I'm afraid York
would. I don't want to be scolded," Jerr
declared. "He would wonder why I hadnput it in the bank. And, besides, there hav
some queer things been happening in New
Eden—I can't explain them, for you migh
not understand, but I do really need
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friend right now. Did you ever need one?"
To the girl alone and under suspicion
however kind the friends who werpuzzled over her situation, conscious tha
oo many favors were not to be asked o
he good-souled Junius Brutus Ponk, th
young farmer seemed the only one twhom she could turn. And she had th
more readily halted her car to wait for hi
because she had already begun to weave
romance in homespun about this splendiyoung agriculturist and the good-hearte
country girl, Thelma Ekblad. He, himself
was impersonal to her.
"I'm always needing friends—and I'
more glad than you could know to hav
you even think of me in your needs. Bu
everybody turns to York Macpherson
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He's the lodestar for every Sage Brus
compass," Joe said, looking earnestly a
Jerry.
"I'm on my way to the old Teddy Bear'
house, your Fishing Teddy," Jerry
declared, "and I thought you would g
with me. I don't want to go alone."
"Let me take this machinery to the men—
hey are waiting for it to start to work—
and I'll be glad to go," Joe answered her.
The gray car followed the big wago
down the trail to the deep bend of the Sag
Brush in the angle of which Joe's ranch
house stood; and the load of machiner
was quickly given over to the workmen
As Joe seated himself in the little gray ca
Jerry said:
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"You are wondering why, and too polite
o ask why, I go to Hans Theodore's. Le
me tell you." Then she told him of he
dazed wanderings down the river roawo months before, and of her meal nea
old Teddy's shack.
"He brought me fried fish on a crackeplate, and buttermilk in a silver drinking
cup—a queer pattern with a monogram o
he side. The next morning I saw anothe
cup exactly like that on the buffet in thMacpherson dining-room. They told m
here should be two of them. One the
found was suddenly missing. Later i
suddenly was not missing. York said theirike was not to be had this side of ol
Castle Cluny' on the ancient Kingussi
holding of the invincible Cla
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Macpherson's forebears. So this must hav
been the same cup. It was on the mornin
after you called and took the old Teddy
Bear home with you that the missing cupreappeared. You remember he wa
shambling around the grounds the nigh
before, waiting for you?"
"Yes, I remember," Joe responded
gravely.
"Meantime Laura Macpherson lost hepurse. It was found in my hand-bag.
believe now that the one that took i
became frightened or something, and trie
o put it on me. Maybe somebody knewhow dreadfully near the wall I was. The
York paid me lease money, as I told you
—three hundred dollars. It was in m
purse last evening when I went out for
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ride. As I sat in the side porch alone
earlier in the evening, I saw the old Teddy
Bear shamble and shuffle about th
shrubbery and disappear down the slopn the shadows on the town side of th
place. This morning my money is all gone
am going down here after it."
"And you didn't ask York to help you?
Joe queried, anxiously.
"Why, no. I wanted you to help me. Wilyou do it?" Jerry asked, looking up int
he earnest face of the big farmer besid
her.
Was it selfishness, or thoughtlessness, o
ove of startling adventure, or insight, o
fate bringing her this way? Joe Thomso
asked himself the question in vain.
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"I'll do whatever I can do. This is such
strange thing. I knew things were missin
by spells up in town, but we never los
anything down our way, and you'd thinkwe would come nearer having what ol
Fishing Teddy would want if he is really a
hief," Joe declared.
"I am going down to old Teddy's shack
and ask him to give me my money
anyhow," Jerry repeated.
"And if he has it and refuses, I'll pitch hi
nto the river and hold him under till h
comes across. But if he really hasn't it?
Joe asked.
"Then he can't give it, that's all," Jerr
replied.
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"But how will you know?" Joe insisted.
"I don't know how I'll know, but when th
ime comes I'll probably find a way to finout," Jerry declared. "Anyhow, I must do
something, for I'm clear penniless and it'
his or go mad or go back East. I'm no
going to do either. I'm just going to gemad and stay mad till I get what's mine."
"I'll be your faithful sleuth, but I can
believe you'll find your bag of gold at thend of this rainbow. The old man i
gentle, though, and you couldn't have an
fear, I suppose," Joe suggested.
"Not with you along I couldn't," Jerr
replied.
She was watching the road, and did no
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see how his eyes filled with a wonderfu
ight at her words. She was not thinking o
Joe Thomson, nor of York Macpherson
nor yet of Junius Brutus Ponk. She wahinking far back in her mind of how
Eugene Wellington would admire he
some day for really not giving in. Tha
faint line of indecision in his face as shrecalled it in the rose-arbor—oh, so lon
ago—that was only emphasized by hi
real admiration for those who could stan
fast by a determination. She had alway
dared. He had always adored, but neve
risked a danger.
Down by the deep fishing-hole thwillows were beginning to droop thei
ong yellow leaves on the diminishin
stream, and the stepping-stones stood ou
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bare and bleaching above the thin curren
hat slipped away between them. A little
blue smoke was filtering out from th
stove-pipe behind the shack hidden amonhe bushes. Everything lay still under th
sunshine of late summer.
"You keep the car. I'm going in," Jerrydeclared, halting in the thin shade by th
deep hole.
"I think I'd better go, too," Joe insisted.
"I think not," Jerry said, with a finality i
her tone there was no refuting.
York Macpherson had well said that therewas no duplicate for Jerry, no forecastin
ust what she would do next.
As Jerry's form cast a shadow across hi
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aid it in Jerry's hands.
The girl looked at him curiously. It was a
f he were handing her a handkerchief shhad dropped, and she caught hersel
saying:
"Thank you. But what made you take it
Don't you know it is all I have, and I mus
earn my living, too, just like anybod
else?"
Old Fishing Teddy opened his mouth
wice before his voice would act. "I didn
ake it. I was goin' to fetch it up to yo
soon as I could git up there again," h
squeaked out at last.
Jerry sat down on a broken chair an
stared at him, as he seated himself on th
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able, gripping the edge on either sid
with his scaly brown hands, and gaze
down at the floor of the cabin.
"If you didn't take it, why did you have i
here? I saw you last night o
Macpherson's driveway," Jerry said
wondering, meanwhile, why she shoulargue with an old thieving fellow lik
Fishing Teddy—Jerusha Darby's niece
and heir some fine day, if she only chose
o all of the Darby dollars.
"I can't never explain to you, lady. They'
roubles in everybody's lots, I reckon
Mine ain't nothin' but a humble one, but iain't so much different from big folks's i
rouble ways. An' we all have to do th
best we can with what comes to us to pu
up with. I 'ain't never harmed nobody, no
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kep' a thing 'at wa'n't mine longer 'n
could git it back. You ask York
Macpherson, an' he'll tell ye the truth. H
never sent ye down here, York didn't."
The old man ceased squeaking and looke
down at his stubby legs and old shoes
Was he lying and whining for mercybeing caught with the spoils of hi
hieving?
Jerry's big eyes were fixed on him as shried to fathom the real situation. Th
bunch of grubs on the Winnowoc local—
common country and village folk—ha
been far below her range of interest, tsay nothing of sympathy. Yet here she sa
n the miserable shack of a hermi
fisherman, an all-but-acknowledged thief
with his loot discovered, studying hi
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with a mind where pity and credulity wer
playing havoc with her better judgmen
and her aristocratic breeding. Had sh
fallen so low as this, or had she risen to newer height of character than she ha
ever known before?
Suddenly the old grub hunched down ohe table before her looked up. Jerr
remembered afterward how clear an
honest the gaze of those faded yellow eye
set in a multitude of yellow wrinkles. Hihands let go of the table's edge and fitte
knuckle into palm as he asked, in
quavering voice:
"Be you really Jim Swaim's girl who use
o live up in that there Winnowoc countr
back yander in Pennsylvany?"
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Jerry's heart thumped violently. It was th
ast word she had expected from thi
creature. "Yes, I'm Jim's only child." The
same winsome smile that made the artistiEugene Wellington of Philadelphia adore
her beamed now on this poor old outcas
down by the deep hole of the Sage Brush.
"An' be you hard up, an' earnin' your ow
ivin' by yourself, did ye say? 'Ain't ye go
a rich kin back East to help ye none?" Th
voice quavered up and down unsteadily.
"Yes, I have a rich aunt, but I'm taking
care of myself. It makes me freer, but
have to be particular not to—to—lose anmoney right now," Jerry said, frankly.
"Then ye air doin' mighty well, an' it's th
hing that 'u'd make your daddy awful gla
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ef he only could know. It 'u'd be fulfillin
his own wish. I know it would. I heere
him say so onct."
Jerry Swaim's eyes were full of unshe
ears. Keenly she remembered when Uncl
Cornie had told her the same thing at th
doorway of the rose-arbor in beautifu"Eden" in the beautiful June-time. How
strange that the same message shoul
come to her again here in the shadow o
ew Eden inside the doorway of fisherman's hut. And how strange a thing i
ife at any time!
"Please don't be unhappy about this." Jerrifted the money which lay in her lap. "I
shall never trouble you."
And then for a brief ten minutes the tw
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alked together, Geraldine Swaim o
Philadelphia, and old Fishing Teddy, the
Sage Brush hermit.
Joe Thomson, sitting in the gray car, saw
Jerry coming through the bushes, her hat i
her hand, the summer sunshine on he
glorious crown of hair, her face wearing strange new expression, as if in Fishin
Teddy's old shack a revelation of life'
realities had come to her and she ha
found them worthy and beautiful.
Little was said between the two youn
people until they reached the Thomso
ranch-house again and Jerry had halted hecar under the shade of an elm growin
before the door. Then, turning to Joe, sh
said:
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"You are right about the old Teddy Bear
He isn't a thief. I don't know what he is
but I do know what he isn't. Since yo
know so much about my coming heralready, may I tell you a few more things
want to talk to somebody who wil
understand me."
Jerry did not ask herself why she shoul
choose Joe Thomson for such
confidence. She went no deeper than t
feel that something about Joe wasatisfying, and that was sufficient
Henceforth with York and the hotel
keeper she must be on her guard. Joe wa
different.
n the half-hour that followed the tw
became fast friends. And when the littl
gray runabout sped up the long trai
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oward New Eden Joe Thomson watche
t until it was only a dust-spot on th
divide that tops the slopes down t
Kingussie Creek. He knew now the wholstory of Laura's purse and her suspicions
of Ponk's offer of help, and he shrewdl
guessed that the pompous little man ha
met a firm check to anything more thamere friendship. For Jerry's comfort, h
refuted the possibility of the Macphersons
harboring a doubt regarding her honesty.
"A mere remark of the moment. We al
make them," he assured her.
Lastly, he was made acquainted with thevents inside of Hans Theodore's shack.
"Something is wrong there, but it is deepe
han we can reach now," Jerry said
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"Maybe we can help the old fellow if h
s tempted, and shield him if he i
wronged."
How fair the face, and soft and clear th
voice! It made Joe Thomson's own fac
harden to hide a feeling he would not le
reveal itself.
As he watched the girl's receding car h
resolved anew to conquer that formles
enemy of sand and to reclaim for her heost kingdom in Kansas. His reward? Tha
must come in its own time. Ponk was ou
of the running. York was still a
proposition. As for all that stuff of York'sabout some Eastern fellow, Joe would no
believe it.
And the girl driving swiftly homewar
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XV
DRAWING OUT
LEVIATHAN WITH A
HOOK
For three years the seasons sped by, soft
footed and swift, and the third June-timcame smiling up the Sage Brush Valley
Many changes had marked the passing o
hese seasons. Ranches had extended thei
cultivated acres; trees spread a wideshade; a newly settled addition ha
extended the boundaries of New Eden
and a new factory and a high-schoo
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building for vocational training marke
he progress of the town. Budding yout
had blossomed into manhood an
womanhood and the cemetery hagathered in its toll. Three years, however
had marked little outward change in th
young Eastern girl who stayed by he
choice of the Sage Brush country fobetter, for worse, for richer, for poorer
She had flung all of her young energy int
he dull routine of teaching mathematics
romance had given place to reality
dleness and careless dependence t
regulated effort and carefully compute
expenditures; gay social interests to thcompanionship of lesser opportunities, bu
broader vision. However, these thing
came at a sacrifice. When the newnes
wore away from her work, Jerry's hour
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were not all easeful, happy ones. Slowly
with the passing of the days, she began t
earn the hard lesson of overcoming,
esson doubly hard for one whose lifhitherto had been given no preparation fo
duty. Yet, as her days gathered surer
purpose her dark-blue eyes were les
often dreamy, her fair cheeks took on richer bloom, while her crown of gloriou
hair lost no glint of its gold.
Her gift of winning friends, the olmperious power to make herself th
center of the universe, was in no wis
disturbed by being a citizen and a school
eacher instead of an Eastern lady oeisure sojourning temporarily in the Sag
Brush country. The young men of th
valley tried eagerly to win a greater plac
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staying on the Ekblad farm, now that sh
had her university degree, because sh
could make a career for herself as
botany specialist in any college in thWest. Jerry knew that love for a crippled
brother and the care of a worse tha
orphaned child of the woman that brothe
had loved were real factors in the life ohis country girl, but her air castles mus
be built for somebody, and they seemed to
cluster around the young Norwegian an
he ranchman. Of course, then, th
ranchman, Joe Thomson, could interes
Jerry only in a general genial comradeship
kind of way. Beginning in a common bondhe presence of a common enemy—th
blowout—chance meetings grew int
regular and helpful association. That wa
all that it meant to Jerry Swaim.
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Three stanch friends watched her closely
Ponk, of the Commercial Hotel an
Garage, believed blindly and wholly i
her ability, laying all blame for hedefective work in the school upon othe
shoulders, standing manfully by her i
every crisis. Laura Macpherson, althoug
never blinded to the truth about Jerry iher impetuous, self-willed, unsympathetic
undeveloped nature, loved her too well t
doubt her ultimate triumph over al
fortune. Only York, who studied he
closest of all three, because he was th
keenest reader of human nature, still hel
hat the final outcome for Jerry Swaiwas a matter of uncertainty.
"I tell you, Laura," York said, one evening
n the early spring of the third year, when
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Jerry had gone with Joe Thomson for
ong horseback ride up the Sage Brush—"
ell you that girl is still a type of her own
which means that sometimes she is softhearted, and romantic, and frivolous, an
mpulsive, and affectionate, like Les
Swaim, and sometimes clear-eyed, hard
headed, close-fisted, with a keen judgmenfor values, practical, and clever, like old
Jim."
"And which parent, Sir Oracle, would yohave her be most like?" Laura inquired.
"Lord knows," York replied. "As He
alone knows how much of the good oeach she may reject and how much of th
weak and objectionable she ma
appropriate."
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"Being a free moral agent to just dissec
her fond parents and choose and refuse a
will when she makes up her life and bein
for herself! It's a way we all have odoing, you know," Laura said
sarcastically. "Remember, York, when
you elected to look like papa, only yo
chose mother's wavy brown hair insteaof her husband's straight black locks; an
you voted you'd have her clear judgmen
n business matters, which our fathe
never had."
"And gave to you the same which he neve
possessed. Yes, I remember," York
retorted. "But how is all thipsychological analysis going to hel
matters here?"
"How's it going to help Joe Thomson, o
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keep him from being helped, you mean?
Laura suggested.
A faint flush crept into York Macpherson'brown cheek.
"It's dead sure Jerry has little enoug
hought of Joe now," York said, gravely
"She's living a day at a time, an
underneath the three years' veneer o
genuine service the real Philadelphi
Geraldine Swaim is still a sojourner in thSage Brush Valley, not a fixture here."
And York was right so far as Jerry
Swaim's thought of Joe Thomson wa
concerned.
After signing the lease with York
Macpherson she rarely spoke of he
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property to any one until it came to b
forgotten to the few who knew of it at all.
Once she had said to Joe:"That heritage of mine is like the grave o
an enemy. I couldn't look at it forgivingly
so I would never, never want to see i
again, and I never want to hear the awfu
word 'blowout' spoken."
"Then forget it," Joe advised.
And Jerry forgot it.
But for Joe Thomson the seasons hel
another story. Down the Sage Brush, faland spring, great steam tractors furrowe
he shifting sands of the blowout, unti
slowly broom-corn and other coars
plants were coaxing a thin soil deposi
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hat spread northward from the south edg
of the sand-line. Little attention was pai
o these efforts by the few farmer folk wh
supposed that Joe was backing it, for thewere all a busy people, and the movemen
was too futile to be considered, anyhow.
Late in the summer of her first season iew Eden, affairs came to a hea
suddenly. Three years before, Juniu
Brutus Ponk's well-meant warning to Jerr
o be on her guard against Stellar Bahrr'mischief-making had not been withou
cause or results. Before the opening of th
school year, beginning with the Lenwell
as a go-between, percolating up througfamilies where fall sewing was i
progress, on to the Macphersons and thei
closest friends, the impression grew
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oward fact that Jerry was a sort o
adventuress who had foisted herself upo
he Macphersons and had befuddled th
brain of the vain little hotel-keeper, whohad overruled the other members of th
school board and forced her into a goo
place in the high school, although she wa
without experience or knowledge of thbranch to which she was elected. And the
she met young men in the cemetery an
rode in Ponk's car over the country alone.
One of the easy acts of the average, an
super-average, mortal is to respect
criticism made upon a fellow-mortal—
doing it most generally with no conscioumalevolence, prompted largely by th
common human desire to be the bearer o
new discoveries.
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ew Eden was no worse than the averag
ittle town at any point of the compass. I
ook Stellar Bahrr at her par value
istened, laughed, and declared idisbelieved her stories—and mainly i
hat spirit repeated them, but in any spiri
always repeated them. When the reports o
Jerry had gone to the farthest corners oown they came at last to the office o
York Macpherson. And it was Ponk
himself who brought them, with som
unprintable language and violen
denunciations of certain females wh
were deadlier, he declared, than an
males, even blackmails. York forgave theatrocious pun because of the righteou
wrath back of it. He knew that Ponk's sui
with Jerry failed temporarily, and h
admired the little man for his loya
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devotion in spite of it.
The Macphersons had completel
convinced Jerry of their faith in her, and ihat congenial association she had almos
forgotten the incident of the porc
conversation about her. To Ponk's anxiou
query, "What will you do?" (nobody evesaid "can" to York Macpherson; he
always could), York had replied:
"I shall go straight to Jerry. She will heat, anyhow, and she has displayed such
deal of courage so far she'll not withe
under this."
"You bet she won't, York, but what will
stop it? I mean Stellar Bahrr's mischief
makin'. She's subtler than the devi
himself."
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"We'll leave that to Jerry. She may have a
way of her own. You never can tell abou
Jerry." As he spoke York was turning his
papers over in search of something whiche did not find, and he did not look up fo
a minute.
"I'll leave the matter to you now," Ponksaid. "I have other affairs of state t
engross my attention," and he left th
office, muttering as he strutted across t
he garage door.
"Thinks he can pull the wool over my eye
by not lookin' at me. Well, York wouldn'
be the best man on the Sage Brush if hdidn't fall in love with Miss Jerry. She'
not only the queen of hearts; she's got th
whole deck, includin' the joker, clea
buffaloed."
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York was true to his word as to telling
Jerry, when the three were on the porc
hat evening, what was in the air and o
he lips of the "town tattlers," as he callehem. Jerry listened gravely. She wa
getting used to things, now, that thre
months ago would have overwhelmed he
—if she hadn't been Jim Swaim's childWhen he had finished and Laura wa
about to pour out vials of indignation
Jerry looked up without a line on he
smooth brow, saying:
"Will you go over to Mrs. Bahrr's with m
now, York?"
York rose promptly, questioning
nevertheless, the outcome of such a
nterview.
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Mrs. Bahrr had just followed he
corkscrew way up to the side gate of th
Macpherson home as the two left th
porch, when she heard Jerry call back tLaura:
"If we find Mrs. Bahrr at home we won
be gone long."
"And if you don't?" Laura asked.
The answer was lost, for Mrs. Bahr
urned and fled across lots, by alley gat
and side walk-way and vacant yard, to he
own rear door. One of Mrs. Bahrr's stron
points was that of being more ready tha
her antagonist and her habit of thought ha
made her world an antagonistic one.
York was curious to see how Jerry would
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meet her Waterloo, for that was what thi
encounter would become, and he was gla
hat she had asked him to go with he
nstead of running off alone, as she hadone when she wanted to see her estate.
Seated in the little front parlor, Jerry too
her time to survey the place before shcame to her errand. It was a very humbl
home, with a rag carpet, windows withou
draperies, but with heavy blinds; chair
hat became unsettled if one rocked ihem; cheap, unframed chromos tacked u
on the walls; an old parlor organ; and
stand with a crazy-quilt style of cover o
which rested a dusty Bible. York saw aook of pity in Jerry's eyes where thre
months before he felt sure there woul
have been only disdain.
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Very simply and frankly the girl told the
purpose of her call, ending with wha
might have been a command, but it wa
spoken in the clear, soft voice that hadalways won her point in any argument.
"Whether these stories came from you o
not you will be sure not to repeat them."
Stella Bahrr bristled with anger. Whateve
might have been said behind her back
nobody except York Macpherson andJunius Brutus Ponk had ever spoken s
plainly to her face before. And they had
never spoken in the presence of a thir
party. And here comes a pretty, sillyyoung thing with a child's Sunday-schoo
alk to her, right in York's presence, in her
own house. Jerry Swaim would pay wel
for her rudeness.
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"I don't know as it's up to me to keep stil
when everybody's talkin'. I won't promis
nothin'. An' I 'ain't got nothin' to be afraid
of." Mrs. Bahrr hooked her eyes viciouslnto her caller.
"I'm afraid of a good many things, but I'
not so very much afraid of people. I was ittle afraid of you the first time I saw you
You remember where that was, o
course."
Jerry looked straight at Mrs. Bahrr wit
wide-open eyes. Something in her fac
recalled Jim Swaim's face to York
Macpherson, and he forgot the girl'words as he stared at her.
"When I was a child," Jerry continued
"they used to say to me, 'The goblins 'll gi
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you ef you don't watch out.' Now I know i
s the Teddy Bear that gits you ef you don
watch out."
Mrs. Bahrr's lips seemed to snap togethe
and her eyes tore their way out of Jerr
and turned to the window. Jerry stepped
softly across to her chair and, laying hand on her shoulder, said, with a smile:
"Hereafter it will be all right between us.
And it was—apparently.
As they walked slowly homeward York
and Jerry said little. The girl's mind wa
busy with thoughts of her new work—thonly work she had ever attempted in he
ife; and York's thoughts were busy with
—Jerry.
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That night York sat alone on the porch o
"Castle Cluny" until far toward morning
beginning at last to fight out with himsel
he great battle of his life. The big, kindlypractical man of affairs, arrow-proof
bullet-proof, bomb-proof to all th
munitions of Cupid, courted and flattere
and admired and looked up to by a wholcommunity, seemed hopelessly enmeshed
now in the ripples of golden-brown hair
held fast by the beautiful dark-blue eyes o
a young lady whose strength to withstan
what lay before her he very much doubted
"If I speak to her now, she'll run awa
from us and leave Laura lonely. She cango to the hotel, because I know Ponk ha
ried and failed. I'm one degree behin
him in that. Where would she go? And
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how would the Big Dipper act? I've n
faith in her keeping still if Jerry did us
some magic on her to-night. Nobody wil
ever Rumpelstilskin her out of herself. I'lbe a man, and wait and befriend my littl
girl whenever I can, although I'm force
every day to see how she is growing t
ake care of herself. When nothing elscan decide events, time is sure to settl
hem."
All this happened at the beginning of thhree years whose ending came in a June
ime on the Kansas plains. Summer an
winter, many a Sabbath afternoon saw th
hotel-keeper and the pretty mathematicseacher strolling out to the cemetery "t
call on mother." The quaint, firm faith o
he pompous little man that "mother knew
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had no place in Jerry Swaim's code an
creed. But she never treated his belie
ightly, and its homely sincerity at length
began to bear fruit.
ot without its lasting effect, too, was th
silent influence of Laura Macpherson upo
her guest. The bright, happy life in spite oa hopeless lameness, the cheerful givin
up of what that lameness denied th
having, all unconsciously wrought it
beauty into the new Jerry whom th"Eden" of an earlier day had never known
obody remembered when the guest an
friend of the Macphersons began to be
factor in the New Eden church life, bueverybody knew at the close of the thir
year that the churches couldn't do withou
her. And neither the Baptist minister
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holding tenaciously to salvation b
mmersion, nor the Presbyterian, clingin
o the doctrine of infant damnation, nor th
Methodist, demanding instantaneourevival-meeting conversion from sin
asked once that the fair Philadelphia
should "become united with the church.
That would necessitate the query, "Whicchurch?" And that would mean a loss to
wo and a gain to only one. As far as th
blowout sand differed from "Eden" on th
Winnowoc, so far Jerry's religious fait
now differed from the disbelief tha
followed the death of her father. In Kansa
where the artistic Eugene Wellington haddeclared his own faith would perish, sh
had learned for the first time how to pray.
Letters had long since ceased to com
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from Aunt Jerry Darby to her niece
although in a friendly and patientl
expectant form Eugene Wellington wrote
beautiful missives breathing more anmore of commercialized ideals and les
and less of esthetic dreams, and not at al
of the faith that had marked the spiritua
refinement of his young manhood.
The third spring brought busy, trying days
A sick teacher made it necessary for th
well ones to do double work. Thyoungest Lenwell boy, leader of th
Senior class, started the annual an
eternally trivial and annoying Senior-clas
fuss that seems fated to precede most highschool commencements. For two years i
had been Jerry Swaim, whos
mathematical mind seemed gifted with
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wonderful generalship, who had manage
o bring the class to harmony with an eas
never known in the New Eden Hig
School before. This year Clare Lenwelwas perfectly irreconcilable, and Jerry
overworked, as willing teachers alway
are, was too busy to bring the belligerent
o time before the bitterness of a townsplit was upon the community. When sh
did come to the rescue of th
superintendent, his own inefficiency t
cope with the case became so evident tha
he at once turned against the young woma
who "tried to run things," as h
characterized her to the school board.That caused an explosion of heav
artillery from the "Commercial Hotel an
Garage," which made one member of th
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board, an uncle of young Lenwell, to ris
n arms, and thus and so the fires o
dissension crisscrossed the town
hreatening to fulmine over the whole SagBrush Valley. To make the matter more
difficult, the town trouble-maker, Stella
Bahrr, for once seemed to have bee
nnocently drawn into the thing, aneverybody knew it was better to hav
Stellar Bahrr's good-will than to start he
ongue.
York Macpherson and Junius Brutus Ponk
both felt sure that Stellar had really stirre
up the Lenwells, for whom she wa
constantly sewing; and, besides, a distanrelative of theirs had married into th
Bahrr family back where Stellar cam
from, "which must have been the Ark,
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Ponk declared, "and the other one of th
pair died of seasickness." Anyhow, the
ocal school row became the local tow
row, and it was a very real and bitter row
n these days of little foxes that wer
hreatening the whole vineyard, Jerr
urned more and more to Joe ThomsonAll of New Eden was tied up in the fuss
ook sides, and talked it, except th
Macphersons and a few of their friends
and they talked it without taking sidebecause the thing was in the air constantly
Jerry could not find even in "Castl
Cluny" a refuge from what wa
uninteresting to her and thoroughldistasteful in itself. Ponk, being by natur
a rabid little game-cock, was full of th
hing, and was no more companionabl
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han the Macphersons. But when the quie
ranchman came up from the lower Sag
Brush country, his dark eyes glowing wit
pleasure and his poised mind unbiased bneighborhood failings, he brought th
breath of sweet clover with his coming
When Jerry came home from their lon
rides up-stream—they never rode towarhe blowout region—she felt as if she ha
a new grip on life and energy an
ambition for her work. Joe was becoming
moreover, the best of entertainers, and th
comradeship was the one thing Jerry ha
earned to prize most in her new life in th
Middle West.When the spring had slipped into earl
May Joe's visits grew less frequent, o
account of his spring work. And once o
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wice he came to town and hurried awa
without even seeing Jerry. It comforted
her greatly—she did not ask herself wh
—that he did drop a note into the postoffice for her, telling her he was in town
and regretting that he must hurry ou
without calling.
t was during this time that Thelma Ekbla
came up to New Eden to do som
extensive shopping and spend a week wit
he Macphersons. There were other guestat "Castle Cluny," and Thelma and Jerr
shared the same room.
Back in "Eden" the heir apparent woulnever have dreamed of sharing anythin
with a Winnowoc grub. How times chang
us! Or do we change them?
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whole Sage Brush Valley, she turned
away that neither Laura nor Stellar migh
see how much she wanted to cry.
But turning was futile. Mrs. Bahrr's eye
went right through the girl and she knew
her shaft had hit home.
Joe had not been to town for weeks. I
didn't matter to Jerry. Yet the next day
after Stellar's call lacked something—an
he next and the next. Not a definite lackfor Jerry's future was settled forever.
Down on the Sage Brush ranches Jo
Thomson was trying to believe that thing
wouldn't matter, too, if they failed to go
his way. These were lonely days for th
young ranchman, who saw little of Jerr
Swaim because every possible minute o
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his time was given to wrestling with th
blowout.
There were many more lonely days, alsofor Jerry, who now began to miss Jo
more than she thought it could be possibl
o miss anybody except Gene Wellington
dealized into a sad and beautiful memorhat kept alive an unconscious hope. And
with all her energy and her determination
many things combined to make her school
room duty a hard task to one whosraining had been so unfitting for seriou
abor. The flesh-pots of the Winnowoc
came temptingly to her memory, and ther
were weary hours when the struggle to bsure and satisfied was greater than he
friends could have dreamed.
The third winter of her stay had seen a
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unusual snowfall for the Sage Brush, an
his spring following was an unusuall
rainy one. Everywhere rank vegetatio
flourished, prairies reveled in luxuriougrowths, and cultivated fields wer
burdened with the promise of record
breaking harvests.
York Macpherson's business had begun to
call him to the East for prolonged trips
and he had less knowledge than formerl
of the details of the affairs of New Edeand its community.
One day not long after Thelma's shoppin
rip Joe Thomson dropped into the officof the Macpherson Mortgage Company.
"How's the blowout?" This had becom
York's customary greeting.
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York meditated awhile, combing hi
heavy hair with his fingers. "The rive
runs by your place?" he asked, at length.
"Yes, my house is right at the bend, and
here is no sand across the Sage Brush,
Joe replied.
"Well, the blowout will never stop till i
gets up to the south bank of the bend. A
've told you already, you'll have to tak
he Lord Almighty into partnership towork a miracle. Otherwise this creepin
up from behind and beyond the thing wil
be a never-ending job of time and mone
and labor. You'll never catch up with itt's just too everlastingly big, that's al
You'll be gray-bearded, and bald-headed
and deaf, and dim-sighted before you ar
hrough."
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"I will not," Joe declared, doggedly. "And
've already told you that I've always take
he Lord Almighty into partnership, or I'd
have been a derelict on a sea of sand lansyne."
"Joe, your faith in the Lord and faith in th
prairies might move mountains, but thehaven't yet moved the desert."
"Not entirely," Joe replied, "but if I do m
part, who knows what Providence mado?"
As he sat there in the hope and strength o
his youth, something in Joe Thomson'
expectant face brought a pang to the ma
beside him.
"Joe, your lease will soon expire. I said t
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you three years ago that women ar
shiftier than blowouts. You didn't believe
me, but it's the truth."
"Naturally the Macpherson Mortgag
Company must acquire much knowledg
of such things in the development of thei
business," Joe responded, jokingly. "LittlThelma Ekblad on the claim above min
has helped to pay off the mortgage you
company held, and sent herself to th
university, working in the harvest-fieldand at the hay-baler to do it. Thelma neve
seemed shifty to me. She's a solid littl
rock of a woman who never flinches."
"I'll except Thelma. You ought—" Bu
York went no further, for he knew Joe's
spirit would not respond to his thought
and he had no business to be thinking
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anyhow. He had known Joe Thomson fro
childhood. He admired Jerry Swai
greatly for what she had been doing, bu
he knew much of the Philadelphia end ohe game, and his heart ached for th
young Westerner, who, he believed, had
shouldered a stupendous, tragical burde
for the sake of a heart-longing only strong nature like Joe's could know.
"By the way, Jerry Swaim's aunt, bac
East, is in a bad way and may die at anime, but she will never forgive Jerry t
he point of inheritance. I happen to be i
he old lady's confidence that far."
"You are a social Atlas, York," Joe
declared. "You hold the world on you
shoulders. But what you say doesn
nterest me at all. So don't prejudge any o
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us, maid or man."
"And don't you let your bloomin' self
confidence and ability to work halfmiracles be your undoing. A house
builded on the sand may fall, where on
built on gold dust may stand firm," York
retorted.
"Do you believe your own words?" Jo
asked, rising to his feet.
"The point is for you to believe them
whether I do or not," York answered, as
Joe disappeared through the doorway.
"Why, in the name of fitness, can't thafellow fall in love with that little Thelm
Ekblad, a girl who knows what sacrific
on the Sage Brush means and who has
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grip on the real values of life? Oh, well
ust to watch the crowd run awry ought t
be entertainment enough for a bachelo
ike myself," York thought, as he sastaring after Joe. "I've lived to see a few
half-miracles myself in the last decade
Anybody whose lot is cast in wester
Kansas can see as many of them as the olSanta Fé Trail bull-whackers saw o
mirages in the awful 'fifties. There's a lo
of reclaiming being done on the Sag
Brush, even if that struggle of Joe's wit
he blowout is a failure. Thelma Ekblad i
her splendid victory over ignorance
carrying a university degree; StellaBahrr"—York smiled, "Ponk, who would
put a flourish after his name if he wer
signing his own death-warrant, the littl
hero of a hundred knocks, living abov
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everything but his funny little strut, an
he's getting over that a bit; old Fishin
Teddy, brave old soul, down in his old
shack alone; Jerry, with her luxuriouaziness and doubt in God and a hereafte
—all winning slowly to better things
maybe; but as to sand and Joe—
"'Canst thou draw out leviathan with
hook?' You'll never do it, Joe, never, and
you'll never win the goal you've set you
heart on. Poor fellow!"
That night, on the silent porch alone, York
finished the battle he had begun on th
evening after he and Jerry had called oStella Bahrr.
"It's the artist bank clerk against the field
and we'll none of us bat above hi
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average. Good night, old moon, and goo
night, York, to what can't be."
He waved a hand at the dying light in thwest, and a dying hope, and went inside.
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XVI
A POSTLUDE IN "EDEN"
Cornelius Darby had lain in his beautifulldecorated grave for three years, and
graceful white shaft pointing heavenwar
amid the shrubbery had become
andmark for the bunch of grubs who rodhe Winnowoc local.
"Must be getting close to the deppo
Yonder is old Corn Darby's gravestoneover on the bluff," they would say, as th
rain chuffed up out of the valley on eithe
side of the station. That was all th
memory of him that remained, save as now
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appreciation, and idleness for happines
—had ceased to be will and become
mania, the ruling passion of her years o
old age. She never dreamed that she wabeing adroitly managed by her husband'
relative, Eugene Wellington, but she did
recognize, and, strangely enough, resen
he fact that the Darby strain in his bloowas proving itself in his ability, not to
earn dollars, but to make dollars ear
dollars once they were put plentifully int
his hands.
Since Mrs. Darby had only one life
purpose—to leave her property to Jerr
Swaim under her own terms—it galled heo think of it passing to the hands of th
relatives of the late Cornelius. Sh
believed that love of Eugene would brin
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Jerry back, for she was Lesa's ow
romance-loving child—even if th
uxuries that wealth can offer should fai
and she had coddled Eugene Wellingtonfor this very purpose. But after three year
he had failed to satisfy her. She wa
becoming slowly but everlastingly set o
one thing. She would put her propertelsewhere by will—when she was throug
with it. She could not do without Eugen
as long as she lived—which would b
ndefinitely, of course. But she would
have her say—and (in a whisper) it woul
not be a Darby nor kin of a Darby wh
might be sitting around now, waiting foher to pass to her fathers, who woul
possess it.
n this intense state of mind she calle
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Eugene out to "Eden" in the late May o
he third year of Jerry Swaim's stay i
Kansas. The rose-arbor was aglow wit
he same blossoming beauty as of old, anall the grounds were a dream of May-tim
verdure.
Eugene Wellington, driving out from thecity in a big limousine car, found the
more to his taste than ever before, and h
ook in the premises leisurely before goin
o the arbor to meet Mrs. Darby.
"If I could only persuade Jerry to com
now, all would be well," he meditated
"And I have hopes. The last news of heells me a few things. She hasn't fallen i
ove with York Macpherson. He'd hate me
ess if she had, and he detests me. I saw
hat, all right, when he was here las
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month. And she's pretty tired of the life o
he wilderness. I know that. If she woul
come right now it would settle thing
forever. I'd go after her if the old ladwould permit it. I'd go, anyhow, if I dared
But I must keep an eye on Uncle Cornie'
widow day and night, and, hungry as I a
for one glimpse of Jerry's sweet face, couldn't meet Jerusha D. in her wrath if
disobeyed her."
Eugene had the chauffeur pause while hsurveyed the lilac-walk and the bi
maples and the lotus-pond.
"If Jerry would come now," he begaagain, with himself, "she would be heir t
all this. If she doesn't come soon, there'
rouble ahead for Eugene of the soft snaps
To the rose-arbor, Henderson."
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So Henderson whirled the splendid youn
product to the doorway of the prett
retreat.
Mrs. Darby met her nephew with a sterne
face even than she was accustomed t
wear.
"I want to see you at once," she said, a
he young man loitered a moment outside.
"Yes, Aunt Jerry," he responded, dutifully
enough—as to form.
"What have you heard from Jerr
recently?" she demanded.
"What York Macpherson told us—that she
has had a hard year's work in a school
room," Eugene replied.
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"Humph! I knew that. What are you doin
o bring her back to me?" Mrs. Darb
snapped off the words.
"Nothing now!" the young man answere
her.
"'Nothing now!' Why not?" Mrs. Darb
was in her worst of humors.
"Because there is positively nothing to d
but to wait," Eugene said, calmly. "She i
not in love anywhere else. She is gettin
ired and disgusted with her plebeia
surroundings, and as to her estate—"
"What of her estate? I refused to let YorkMacpherson say a word, although he trie
o over-rule me. I told him two things: I'
never forgive Jerry if she didn't com
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back uninvited by me; and I'd never liste
o him blow a big Kansas story of he
wonderful possessions. What do yo
know? You'd be unprejudiced." The oldwoman had never seemed quite s
mperious before.
"I have here a paper describing it. YorkMacpherson sent it to Uncle Cornelius th
very week he died. I found it among som
other papers shortly after his death an
after Jerry left. When York was here heconfirmed the report at my insisten
request. Read it."
Jerusha Darby read, realizing, as she diso, that neither her husband nor York
Macpherson had succeeded in doing wha
Eugene Wellington had done easily. Each
had tried in vain to have her read tha
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paper.
"You knew the condition of this estate fo
hree years, and never told me. Why?" Thold woman's face was very pale.
"I did not dare to do so," Eugene replied
hat line of weakness in his face whic
Jerry had noted three years befor
revealing itself for the first time to he
aunt.
"This is sufficient," she said, in a quie
sort of way. "To-morrow I make my wil
—just to be sure. I shall probably outliv
many younger people than myself. Writ
and tell Jerry I have done it. This time to
morrow night will see my estate settled s
far as the next generation is concerned. If
do not do it, Eugene, some distant an
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mprovident relatives of Cornelius wil
claim it. Send the lawyer out in th
morning."
"All right, Aunt Jerry. I must go now.
have a club meeting in the city and I ca
make it easily. The car runs like the wind
with Henderson at the wheel. Good-by."
And Eugene Wellington was gone.
"Three years ago I'd have left everythin
o him if I had been ready to make a wil
hen. I'm ready now, and any time in th
next ten years I can change it if I want to
But this will bring things my way, afte
all. I told York I'd never forgive Jerry!"
Mrs. Darby paused, and a smile lighte
her wrinkled face.
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"To think of that girl just shouldering he
burden and walking off with it. If she isn
Brother Jim over again! Never writing
word of complaint. Oh, Jerry! Jerry! I'lmake it up to you to-morrow."
To Jerusha Darby money made up fo
everything. She sat long in the rose-arborhinking, maybe, of the years when Jerry'
children and her children's children woul
dominate the Winnowoc countryside a
hey of the Swaim blood had always doneAnd then, because she was tired, and th
afternoon sunshine was warm, and he
willow rocking-chair was ver
comfortable—she fell asleep.
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"Went just like her brother, the late
Jeremiah Swaim," the papers said, th
next evening.
nstead of the lawyer, it was th
undertaker who came to officiate. And th
ast will and testament, and the too-lat
evidence of a forgiving good-will, alwere impossible henceforth and forever.
The estate of the late Jerusha Darby, relic
of the late Cornelius Darby, no will ohers having been found, passed, b
agreement under law, to a distant relativ
of the late Cornelius, which relative bein
Eugene Wellington, whose knowledge ohe said possible conditions of inheritanc
he had held in his possession for thre
years, since the day he accidentally foun
hem among the private papers of his lat
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uncle, knowing the while that any sudde
notion of the late Jerusha might result i
putting her possessions, by her ow
signature, where neither Jerry, as hefavorite and heir apparent, nor himself, a
heir-in-law without a will, could inheri
anything. Truly Gene had had
bothersome time of it for three years, anhe congratulated himself on having don
well—excellently well, indeed. Trul
only the good little snakes ever entere
hat "Eden" in the Winnowoc Valley in
Pennsylvania.
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XVII
THE FLESH-POTS OF THE
WINNOWOC
The glory of that third springtime was o
he Kansas prairies and in the heart of
man and a maid, the best of good fellow
each to the other, who rode together fa
along their blossomy trails. The eyes o
he man were on the future and in his hear
here was only one wish—that the goodfellowship would soon end in th
realization of his heart's desire. The eye
of the maid were closed to the future. Fo
her, too, there was only one wish—tha
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his kind of comradeship might go o
unchanged indefinitely. To Jerry no
rouble seemed quite so big when Joe wa
with her, and little foxes sought their holewhen he came near. If the spring work had
not grown so heavy late in May, and Jo
could have come to town oftener, and on
eacher had not fallen sick, and ClarLenwell hadn't been so stubborn, and i
Stellar Bahrr had held her tongue—Bu
why go on with ifs? All these condition
did exist. What might have been withou
hem no man knoweth.
One of the humanest traits of human being
s to believe what is pleasant to believeand to doubt and question what would b
an undesirable fact. Jerry Swaim, clingin
ever to a memory of what might hav
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been, building a pretty love dream, it i
rue, to be acted out some far-away tim
by a young farmer and his neighbor in th
Sage Brush Valley, listened to StellaBahrr's version of Thelma Ekblad'
shopping mission, held back the tears tha
burned her eyeballs for a moment, an
hen, being human, voted the whole thinas impossible, if not as malicious as an
of Stellar Bahrr's stories. Indeed, Thelm
Ekblad was now, as she had always been
he very least of Jerry's troubles.
The school row, that had become th
community fuss, culminated in th
superintendent putting upon his teacherhe responsibility of settlement.
f they were willing to concede to th
foolish demands of the class, led by Clar
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Lenwell, and grant full credits in thei
branches of study, he would abide by thei
decision. The easiest way, after all, to
quiet the thing, he said, might be to let thyoung folks have their way this time, an
do better with the class next year. The
could begin in time with them. As i
Solomon himself could ever foresee wharivial demand and stubborn claim will b
he author and finisher of the disturbanc
from year to year in the town's pride an
glory—the high-school Senior class, an
ts Commencement affairs. The final vot
o break the tie and make the verdict wa
purposely put on Jerry Swaim, who hamore influence in the high school than th
superintendent himself. Jerry protested
and asked for a more just agreement
finally spending a whole afternoon wit
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Clare Lenwell in an effort to induce him t
be a gentleman, offering, in return, al
fairness and courtesy.
Young Lenwell's head was now too large
for his body. He was the hero of the hour
Rule or ruin rested on this youn
apoleon of the Sage Brush, divinelordained to free the downtrodden youth
of America from the iron heel and gallin
chains with which the faculty of th
average American high school enthralland degrades—and so forth, worl
without end.
This at least was Clare Lenwell's attitudfrom one o'clock P.M. to five o'clock P.M
of an unusually hot June day. At the stroke
of five Jerry rose, with calm face, but
dangerously square chin, saying, in a
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untroubled tone:
"You may as well go. Good afternoon."
Young Lenwell walked out, the cock ohe hour—until the next morning. Then al
of the Seniors were recorded as havin
received full credits for graduation fro
all of the faculty—except one pupil, wh
acked one teacher's signature. Clar
Lenwell was held back by Miss Swaim
eacher of the mathematics department.
The earthquake followed.
n the session of the school board on th
afternoon of Commencement Day JuniuBrutus Ponk, who presided over th
meeting, sat "as firm as Mount Olympus
or Montpelier, Vermont," he said
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afterward; "the uncle Lenwell suffere
eruption, Vesuviously; and the third man
of us just cowed down, and shriveled up
and tried to slip out in the hole where thelectric-light wire comes through the wal
But I fetched him back with a button-hook
knowin' he'd get lost in that wid
passageway and his remains never brecovered to his family."
t was not, however, just a family matte
now among the Lenwells. In the presencof the superintendent and Mrs. Bahrr
Miss Swaim was called to trial by he
peers—the board of education. In thi
executive session, whose proceedingwere not ever to be breathed—for York
Macpherson would have the last man o
hem put in jail, he was that influentia
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— Other Things Were Made Known —
Things that, after the final settlement
became in time common property, and so
forgotten.
Herein Stellar Bahrr's three years of pent
up anger at last found vent. She had bee
preparing for this event. She had adroitlset the trap for the first difficulty, that had
ts start in the Lenwell family, while sh
was doing their spring sewing. Incessantl
and insidiously she laid her mines anstrung her wires and stored her munitions
determined to settle once for all with th
pretty, stuck-up girl who had held a whip
over her for three whole years.
Charges were to be brought against Mis
Swaim of a serious character, and sh
was to be tried and condemned in secre
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session and allowed to leave the tow
quietly. Nothing would be said alou
until she was gone.
n despair, Ponk sought York Macpherson
wo hours before the trial began.
"There's two against me. And no matte
what I say, they'll outvote me. It's th
durned infernal ballot-box that's a curse t
a free government. If it wasn't for that
republics would flourish. Bein' auncrowned king don't keep a man fro
bein' a plain short-eared jackass—an
hey's three of us of the same breed—tw
against one."
York's face was gray with anger, and he
clutched his fingers in his wavy hair as i
o get back the hold on himself.
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"You will have your trial, of course
Demand two things—that the accused an
he accusers meet face to face. It will b
hard on Jerry."
"Has she flinched or fell down once i
hree years, York Macpherson? Ain't she
stronger and handsomer to-day than shwas the day I had the honor to bring her up
from the depot in that new gadabout o
mine? If I could I'd have had it framed an
hung on the wall and kept, for what it donfor her."
The two men looked into each other'
eyes, and what each read there made sacred, unbreakable bond between the
for all the years to come.
The trial was held in the hotel parlor
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behind closed doors. The charges wer
vague and poorly supported by evidence
but the venom back of them was definite
Plainly stated, a pretty, incompetent girhad come West for some reason neve
made clear to New Eden. Come as a
heiress in "style and stuckuppitude o
manner" (that was Stellar Bahrr'phrasing); had suddenly become poor an
dependent on the good-will of J. B. Ponk
who had fought to the bitter end to giv
her "a place on the town pay-roll and kee
her there" (that was the jealou
superintendent's phrasing); and on th
patronage of York Macpherson, who hadreally took her in, he and his honorabl
sister, even if they really were the wors
"took in" of the two. At this point Pon
rapped for a better expression of terms
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The young person had tried to "run things
n the church and schools and society
Even the superintendent himself had to b
sure of her approval before he dared tstart any movement in the high schoo
And no one of the preachers would invit
her to unite with his church.
But to the charges now:
First: She had refused to let Clar
Lenwell graduate who wasn't any worshan the rest of the class.
Secondly: She had a way of riding aroun
over the country with young men o
moonlight nights on horseback. Of going
he Lord knows where, with young men
oy-riding in cars, or of going alon
wherever she pleased in hired livery cars
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And some thought she met strange men an
was acquainted with rough characters, an
he moral influence of that was awfull
bad; and there was something even worsef that were possible, WORSE!
Things had disappeared around tow
often, but in the last three yearespecially. If folks were poor, they
needed money.
Then Stellar Bahrr came into the ring.
Jerry had sat and listened to th
proceedings as an indifferent spectator t
what could in no wise concern her. With
he entrance of Mrs. Bahrr to the witness
stand, the girl's big, dreamy eyes grew
brighter and her firm mouth was set, bu
no mark of anxiety showed itself in he
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face or manner.
Mrs. Bahrr whined a bit as to wishin
only to do the right thing, but her steelpointed eyes, as she fixed them in Jerry
wrote as with a stylus across the girl'
understanding:
"You are hopelessly in the minority. Now
can say what I please."
What Mrs. Bahrr really knew, of course
she couldn't swear to in any court, becaus
of Laura and York Macpherson. She
wouldn't shame them, because they ha
befriended a fraud, all with goo
ntentions. She only came now becaus
she'd been promised protection by th
board from what folks would say, and sh
was speaking what must never b
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repeated.
"Most of us need that kind of protectio
when you are around," Ponk declaredvehemently, knowing that, while th
school board would keep her word
sacred, nothing said or done in that tria
would be held sacred by her as soon ahe decision she wished for was reached.
Stellar, feeling herself safe, paid no heed
o Ponk. What she really knew was that certain young lady had been known to tak
money from her hostess and, being caugh
had been forced to give it up. Stella
herself saw and heard the whole thinwhen it happened. Laura had told he
about the matter, and then, when she wa
ust leaving, Jerry had returned the money
She was right outside of the vines on th
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porch, and she knew. Stellar knew tha
dollars and dollars, jewelry, silverware
and other valuables had been taken, an
some of them never restored; but somwas sneaked back when the pressure go
oo strong. In a word, through much tal
and little sense, Miss Geraldine Swai
was branded a high-toned thief. Andworse than that. For three years strang
men had slipped to the Macpherson hom
when the folks were away, and been le
out by the side door. Real low-down
ooking fellows. Stellar had seen the
herself. She had a way of running 'cros
ots up to Laury's evenings, and she knewwhat she was talking about. Stella
dropped her eyes now, not caring to loo
at Jerry. Her blow had hit home and sh
was exultant.
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"Has the young lady anything to say?
Lenwell of the school board asked, feelin
a twinge of pity, after all, because the cas
was even stronger than he had hoped icould be made.
Jerry looked over at Stellar Bahrr unti
she was forced to lift her eyes to the girl'face.
"I cannot understand the degree of hat
hat can be developed in a human mind,she said, calmly. "That is all I have to
say."
Junius Brutus Ponk's round face seemed t
blacken like a Kansas sky before th
coming of a hail-storm. Lenwell gave
snort of triumph, and the third member o
he board grinned.
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At that moment the door of the hotel parlo
opened. Jerry, who sat opposite to it
caught sight of York Macpherson in the
hall. And York saw her, calm and braven what he read, in the instant, was defea
for her. Before her were dismissal
failure, and homelessness. But neither h
nor any one else dreamed how far thnfluence of those Sunday afternoons o
"calling on mother," with the fat littl
hotel-keeper, had led this girl into a "trus
n every time of trouble," and she face
her future bravely.
t was not York Macpherson, but the little
fuzzy, shabby figure of old Fishin' Teddywho shuffled inside and closed the door
demanding in a quavering squeak to b
heard.
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Ponk gave a start of surprise; Lenwell wa
annoyed; the third man was indifferen
now, being safe, anyhow. Stellar Bahr
and the superintendent stared iamazement, but Jerry's face wa
wonderful to see.
"'Ain't I got a right to say a word heregentlemen?" old Teddy asked, looking a
Ponk.
"If it's on the subject of this meeting, yesf it's anything about fish, either in th
Sage Brush or in Kingussie Creek, no
This really ain't no place for fish stories
We're overstocked with 'em right now, tilhis hotel and gurrage will have a 'ancien
and a fishlike smell' as the Good Boo
says, for a generation."
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"I just got wind of what was on up here. A
man from your town come down to see m
on business, an' he bringed me up."
"York Macpherson's the only man I eve
knew had business with old Teddy. Lord
be praised!" Ponk thought.
"I got a little testimony myself to offe
here, for the one that's bein' blackmailed
'll tell it fast as I can," Teddy declared.
"Take your time an' get it straight. None o
us is in a hurry now," Ponk assured him.
Then the Teddy Bear, without looking a
Jerry, gave testimony:
"Back in Pennsylvany, where I come from
n the Winnowoc country, I knowed Jim
Swaim, this young lady's father. I wasn
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no fisherman then. I was a hard-workin
well-meanin', honest man. My name wa
Hans Theodore—and somethin' else
have no use for since I come to the SagBrush in Kansas."
He hesitated and looked down at his scal
brown paws and shabby clothes.
"I ain't telling this 'cause I want to, bu
cause I want to do justice to Jim Swaim'
girl. Jim was my friend an' helped me a loof ways. He was a hard-fisted busines
man, but awfully human with huma
bein's; an' his daughter's jes' like him
seems to me."
Jerry's cheeks were swept with the bloo
of "Eden" roses as she sat with her eye
fixed on the old man. To her in tha
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moment came a vision of Uncle Cornie i
he rose-arbor when the colorless old ma
had pleaded with her to become as he
father had been.
"I got into trouble back there. This is
secret session, hain't it?" The old ma
hesitated again.
"Yes, dead secret," Ponk assured him
"Nothin' told outside of here before it'
first told inside, which is unusual in sucsecret proceedings, so you are amon
friends. Go on."
Stellar Bahrr sat with her eyes piercin
he old man like daggers, while his ow
faded yellow-brown eyes drooped with
sorrowful expression.
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ketch sight of strange men at side doors
Mrs. Bahrr, it's me. An' when this Jerry
Swaim (I knowed her when she was
baby; I carried her in my arms 'cross thWinnowoc once, time of a big flood up in
Pennsylvany)—when her purseful o
money was stole, three years ago, an' sh
comes down to my shack and finds it alhere, why, she done by me then jus' lik
her own daddy 'd 'a' done, she never tol
on me at all. An' she hain't told all thes
years, and wa'n't goin' to tell on me now.
don't know what you mean 'bout thes
stories on her. She never done nothin' to
be ashamed of in her life. 'Tain't in hefamily to be ashamed. They dunno how. I
hey's blame for stealin' in New Eden
hough, jus' lay it on old Fishin' Teddy
You 'quit her now."
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The old man's voice quavered as h
squeaked out his words, and he shuffle
aside, to be less in evidence in the parlor
where he had for the one time in his lifbeen briefly the central figure.
The silence that followed his words wa
broken by Jerry's clear, low voice. Heface was beautiful in the soft light there
To Ponk she had never seemed so
adorable before, not even on still Sabbat
afternoons in the quiet corner of thcemetery where they talked as friends o
mother-love and God, and Life after life.
"Friends, this old hermit fisherman ielling you a falsehood to try to shield m
because of some favor my father showe
him in the years gone by. If he is no
willing to say more, to tell you the rea
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ruth, he will force me to say to you that
am the guilty one after all. I cannot let hi
make such a sacrifice for me."
She spoke as though she were explainin
he necessity for changing cars in Chicag
n order to reach Montreal. Old Fishin
Teddy lifted his clubby brown hands inprotest.
"'Tain't so, an' 'tain't right," he managed to
make the words come out—thin anrembling words, shaking like palsie
hings.
"No, it isn't so, and it isn't right, and h
must not bear a disgrace he doesn
deserve. I'll do it for him," Jerry said
smiling upon the shabby old man—
common grub of the Sage Brush Valley.
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There is nothing grander in human history
nothing which can more deeply touch th
common human heart of us all, than th
esson of self-sacrifice taught on MounCalvary. From the thief on the cross, dow
hrough all the centuries, has the blesse
power of that Spirit softened the hearts o
evil-doers, great or small. Jerry had noonce turned toward Stellar Bahrr since th
entrance of Fishin' Teddy. When she had
ceased speaking, the silence of the roo
was broken by the town busybody'
whining tone:
"They ain't neither one of 'em a thief, Mr
Ponk. It's me. They sha'n't do no sucsacrificing thing."
The silence of the moment before was
shout compared to the dead silence now.
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"Yes, it's me. I was born that way, an' i
ust seems I can't help it. I've done all th
iftin', I guess, that's been done in thi
own a'most—'tain't so much, of coursebut I ain't mean clear through, an' I jus
wouldn't ever rest in my grave if I don
speak now. I thought I'd always hide it, bu
know I never will."
Old Teddy shrank back in a heap on hi
chair, while all of the rest except Jerr
Swaim sat as if thunderstruck.
"I'm goin' clear through with it, now I'v
begun. Maybe I'll be a better woman if
am disgraced forever by it." Mrs. Bahrr'voice grew steadier and her eyes wer
fixed on the ground.
"Hans Theodore—the last part of his nam
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s Bahrr—he's my husband. It was for m
sins that he left Pennsylvany. Jim Swai
saved us from a lot of disgrace, an
persuaded us to come West an' start overan' helped us a lot. I couldn't break mysel
of wrong-doing just by changing climate
hough. We tried Indiany first an' failed
hen we come to S'liny, Kansas, next anhen we come on here. An' at las
Theodore give me up an' went off alon
an' changed his name. Mr. Lenwell's folk
here is distant relatives, but they neve
would 'a' knowed Theodore. Didn't know
he'd never got a divorce, and never sto
supportin' me; like he'd said when we wamarried, he'd 'keep me unto death,' yo
know; and he'd come to see me once in
while, to be sure I wasn't needin' nothin'.
us' worked along at one thing or another
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an' Teddy earnt money an' paid it in to
York Macpherson, like a pension, an' he
paid me, York did. But Teddy wouldn'
never live with me, though he never tolYork why. An' when I took things—"
Mrs. Bahrr paused and looked at Jerr
deprecatingly.
"Like that silver cup I saw down at th
deep hole?" Jerry asked, encouragingly.
"Yes, like that. I seen you down there tha
day. I was the woman that passed your ca
—"
"I know it," Jerry said, "I remember yousunbonnet and gray-green dress. I've ofte
seen both since."
"Yes, an' you remember, too, the time
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come out on the porch sudden when yo
first come here, an' made you promise no
o tell." Mrs. Bahrr's voice quavered now
"An' 'cause I knowed Teddy'd bring tha
right back to Macpherson's and you'
remember it, an' 'cause you were Ji
Swaim's child that knowed my fault anmade me do what I didn't want to do, eve
f I was in the wrong, I hated you an
vowed to myself I'd fix you. It was m
slipped into your room an' stuck Laury'purse into your beaded hand-bag, an' i
was me took your roll of money from you
own purse. Teddy took it away, though
hat very night. Teddy he'd take whatever picked up an' pretend he'd sell it, but he'
git it back to 'em some way if he could; an
he's saved an' sold fish an' lived a hermi
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ife an' never told on me. He's slipped u
o town to git me to put back or let him pu
back what I was tempted to pilfer, 'caus
t seemed I just couldn't help it. York'been awful patient with me, too. But
can't set here an' be a woman and se
Teddy shieldin' me, a hypocrite, an' he
shieldin' him, an' not tellin' on me, likwimmen does on wimmen generally, an
not make a clean breast of it. An' if you'l
not tell on me, an' all help me, I'll jus' tr
once more—"
"Won't anything go out of this room excep
what you tell yourself, Stellar Bahrr,
Ponk said, gravely. "Now you go home anbegin to act better and think better, an
his'll be a heap cleaner town foreve
after. An' if you live right the rest of you
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days you 'll keep on livin' after you'r
dead, like mother does. The charges o
his case is all settled. I congratulate you
Miss Fair Defendant. You are a Joan oArc, an' a Hannah Dustin, an Boaz's Ruth
an' Barbara Fritchie, all in one."
While the other two members of the boarwere shamefacedly shaking hands an
offering Jerry half of New Eden as
recompense, old Fishin' Teddy slipped ou
of the side door through the dining-rooand on to where Ponk's best livery ca
waited to take him to his rude shac
beside the deep hole in the Sage Brush.
As Jerry passed into the hall she found
crowd waiting for her—the thre
ministers from the churches, the mayor o
ew Eden, the friends of th
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Macphersons, York himself, and many
more of the town's best, who had gathere
o congratulate Jerry and to assure her o
heir pride in her ability and appreciatioof her as a citizen of New Eden.
With the Commencement that night th
school fuss and town split disappeared aone breath and passed into history.
When they reached the doorway of "Castl
Cluny," after the Commencemenexercises, York handed Jerry a letter. I
was a long and affectionately worde
message from Eugene Wellington, telling
of the passing of Jerusha Darby, of hinheritance, and of his intention to come a
once to Kansas and take her back to th
"Eden" she had neglected so long.
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And Jerry, worn with the events of the las
few weeks, feeling the strain suddenl
ifted, welcomed the letter and shed a tea
upon it, saying, softly:
"Oh, I'm so tired of everything now! If h
comes for me, he'll find me ready to mee
him. The flesh-pots of the Winnowoc arbetter to me than this weary desert."
Came an evening three days before th
date for the lease on the Swaim land t
expire. Jerry sat alone on the Macphersoporch. It had been an extremely hot day fo
June, with the dead, tasteless air tha
presages the coming of a storm, and to
night the moon seemed to struggle u
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oward the zenith against choking gra
clouds that threatened to smother out it
ight.
Jerry was not happy to-night. She wante
Joe Thomson to come this evening. It ha
been such a long while since he had ha
ime to leave the ranch for an evening wither.
And with the wishing Joe came. With fir
step and the face of a victor he cameFrom his dark eyes hope and tendernes
were looking out.
"I haven't seen you for ages, and ages ar
awfully long, you know," Jerry declared.
"I've been very busy," Joe replied. "You
know you can't break the laws of the ranc
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and expect a harvest, any more than yo
can break the laws of geometry an
depend on results. I would have been u
sooner, though, but for one thing: a fellowon the ranch above mine who got hurt onc
with a mowing-machine had anothe
accident and I've been helping the owner
hat stout-hearted little Norwegian girThelma Ekblad, to take care of thei
crops, too. Thelma is a courageous sou
who has worked her way through th
university, and she is a mighty capabl
girl, too. She would be a splendid succes
as a teacher, she is so well trained, but he
family need her, and all of us down therneed her."
Jerry caught her breath. It was the firs
ime in three years that Joe had eve
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mentioned any girl with interest. But now
his was all right and just as things shoul
be. A neighbor, a capable Western girl—
women see far, after all, and Jerry'romance had not been a foolish one.
"That's all right, Joe, but I have bee
wanting to see you"—the old "I want" amperative again to-night as in the day
when all of this girl's wants had been me
by the mere expression of them.
"And I'm always wanting to see you, an
never so much as to-night," Joe began
earnestly.
"Let me tell you first why I have wanted t
see you once more," Jerry broke in
hastily.
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n the dull light her dreamy dark-blue eye
and her golden hair falling away from he
white brow left an imprint that Jo
Thomson's mind kept henceforth; at thsame time that "once more" cut a deepe
wound than Jerry could know.
"My aunt Jerry Darby is dead." The girl'voice was very low. "I can't grieve fo
her, for she was old and tired of life and
unhappy. You remember I told you abou
her one night here three years ago."
Joe did remember.
"She left all her fortune to Cousin Gen
Wellington."
"The artist who turned out to be a ban
clerk?" Joe asked. "I really alway
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doubted that story."
"Yes, but, you know, he did it to please
Aunt Jerry. Think of a sacrifice like thatGiving up one's dearest life-work!"
"I'm thinking of it. Excuse me. Go on," Jo
said.
Jerry lifted her big dreamy eyes. Th
sparkle was gone and only the soft light o
romance illumined them now.
"Gene is coming out to see me soon. I loo
for him any day. Everything is all settled
about the property, and everything is goin
o be all right, after all, I am sure. And I'so tired of teaching." Jerry broke of
suddenly.
"But, oh, Joe," she began presently, "you
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will never, never know how much you
comradeship has helped me through thes
hree trying years of hard work an
hopelessness. We have been only friendsof course, and you are such a good
helpful kind of a friend. I never coul
have gotten through without you."
"Thank you, the pleasure is mine. I—
hink I must go now."
Joe rose suddenly and started to leave thporch. In an instant the very earth ha
slidden out from under his feet. Th
memory of York Macpherson's warning
swept across his mind as the blowousands sweep over the green prairie. And
he had come to say such different word
o-night. He had reached the end of a long
heart-breaking warfare with nature and h
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had won. And now a new warfare brok
forth in his soul.
At that moment a sudden boom of thundecrashed out of the horizon and all th
ightnings of the heavens were unleashed
while a swirling dust-deluge filled th
darkening air. Jerry sprang forwardclutching Joe's arm with her slende
fingers.
"The storm will be here in a minute," shcried, "You must not leave now. You
mustn't face this wind. Look at that awfu
black cloud and see how fast it is comin
on. I don't want you to go away. Whercan you go?"
But Joe only shook off her grip, saying
hoarsely:
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"I'm going down the Sage Brush. If yo
ever want me again, you'll find me beyon
he blowout."
The word struck like a blow. For thre
years Jerry had not heard it spoken. It wa
he one term forever dropped from he
vocabulary. All who loved her must forgets very existence.
There was a sudden dead calm in the ho
yellow air; a moment of gathering forcebefore the storm would burst upon th
own.
"If you ever see me beyond that blowou
you'll know that I do want you," Jerr
said, slowly.
n the blue lightning glare that followed
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her white face and big dark eyes recalle
o Joe Thomson's mind the moment, s
ong ago now, it seemed, when Jerry had
first looked out at the desert from undehe bough of the oak-grove.
During the prolonged, terrific burst o
hunder that followed, the young ranchmastrode away and the darkness swallowe
his stalwart form as the worst storm th
Sage Brush country had ever known brok
furiously upon the whole valley.
And out on the porch steps stood a gir
conscious, not of the storm-wind, nor th
beating rain, nor cleaving lightningconscious only that something ha
suddenly gone out of her life into th
blackness whither Joe Thomson had gone
and with the heartache of the loss of th
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moment was a strange resentment towar
a brave-hearted little Norwegian girl—
harvest-hand with a crippled brother, a
adopted baby, and a university education.
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XVIII
THE LORD HATH HIS WAY
IN THE STORM
Laura Macpherson sat on the porch
watching her brother coming slowly up th
street, seemingly as oblivious to th
splendor of the sunset to-night as he ha
been on a June evening three summer
ago.
"That was the worst cloudburst I eve
heard of out here," he declared, when h
reached the porch. "Every man in tow
who could carry a shovel has been out al
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day, up-stream or down-stream, helping to
dig out the bottomland farms. I've bee
clear to the upper Sage Brush, doing
stunt or two myself. I left my muddy bootand overalls at the office so that I wouldn
be smearing up your old Castle here."
Even in the smallest things York's thoughtwere for his crippled sister.
"There's a lot of wild stories out abou
buildings being swept away and livebeing lost, here and there in the valley
You needn't believe all of them until you
rustworthy brother confirms them for you
ittle sister. Such events have theiragedies, but the first estimate is alway
oversize."
"Even if your Big Dipper tells me, shall
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wait for your confirmation?" Laur
nquired, blandly.
"Oh, Laura, I'm going to cut out all thaastronomical business now, even if
always did know that the right way t
pronounce the name Bahrr is plain Bear
however much you have to stutter to spelt. Stellar has been, as the Methodists say
redeemed and washed in the blood of th
Lamb.' I'm taking her in on probation
myself, and if she sticks it out for simonths I'll take her into full membership."
"What do you mean, York?" Laura
nquired.
"I mean that since they settled the schoo
row in secret session, Mrs. Bahrr ha
been as different a woman as one can b
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who has let the habit of evil thinkin
become a taskmaster. I've never told yo
hat her husband is still living, a shabb
old fellow who gives me money for hesupport as fast as he can earn it, but h
won't live with her. She flies from hat
rimming to sewing and baking and nursin
and back to sewing, and she never earnmuch anywhere, and works up trouble jus
for pure cussedness. But to-day she wen
o the upper Sage Brush to help old Mrs
Poser. The Posers were nearly washed
away, and the old lady is sick and lonely
and almost helpless. She needs somebod
o stay with her. Yes, Stellar is reallybecoming a star—a plain, homely plane
doing a good-angel line where she's mos
useful. We'll let the past stay where i
belongs, and count her reclaimed to bette
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hings now."
"Amen! And what about the valley down
stream? It must be worse, because thstorm came up from that way," Laur
declared.
"There are plenty of rumors, but I haven
heard anything definite yet, for I just go
here, you know, and, as I telephoned you
found Mr. Wellington had registered a
Ponk's inn. The traveling-men who weron the branch line have brought the firs
word to town to-day. The train is stuck
somewhere down the valley, and th
racks, for the most part, are at the bottoof the Sage Brush. There are washouts al
along the road-bed, and the passenger
have been hauled up the stream, acros
fields, and every other way, except by th
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regular route. No automobile can trave
he trail now, so our Philadelphi
gentleman arrives a good bit disguste
with this bloomin' Western country, don'you know; and sore from miles of jolting
and hungry; and sort of mussy-looking fo
a banker; but cocksure of a welcome an
of the power to bring salvation to one ous at least."
York dropped down on the porch step
with a frown, flinging aside his hat anhrusting his fingers savagely into hi
heavy hair.
"Oh, well!" he exclaimed, dejectedly"There's been a three years' running figh
between Jim Swaim's determined chin an
Lesa's tender eyes. I had hoped to the Lor
hat Jim would win the day, but tha
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whirlwind campaign of pleading an
uxury-tempting letters came just at the en
of a hard year's work in the high schoo
with all that infernal fuss in the Senioclass, splitting the town open for a mont
and being forgotten in an hour, and th
ealousy toward the best teacher we'v
ever had here, etcetera. So the 'eyes' seeo have it. If there were no ladies present,
York added, with a half-smile, "I'd fee
free to express my lordly judgment of th
whole damned sex."
"Don't hesitate, Yorick; a little cussing
might ease your liver," Laura declared
surprised and amused at her brother'unexpected vehemence of feeling.
"There's nothing in the English language
as she is cussed, to do the subject justice
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but I might practise a few minutes a
east," York began.
"Hush, York! That is Mr. EugeneWellington coming yonder. I'll call Jerry
Poor Joe!" Laura added, pityingly. "I hav
a feeling he is the real sufferer here."
"Yes, poor Joe!" York echoed, sadly
"Ponk will just soar above his hurt, bu
men of Joe's dogged make-up die
housand deaths when they do die."
Lesa Swaim's daughter was gloriousl
beautiful to Eugene Wellington's artistic
eyes as he sat beside her on the porch o
his beautiful evening. And Eugene himsel
held a charm in his very presence. All th
memories of the young years of cultur
and ease; all the daintiness of perfec
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dress and perfect manners; all th
assurance that a vague, sweet dream wa
becoming real; all the sense of a struggl
for a livelihood now ended; all thbreaking of the grip of stern duty, and a
unbending pride in a clear conscience
although their rewards had bee
nspiringly sweet—all these seemed tJerry Swaim to lift her suddenly an
completely into the real life from whic
hese three busy, strange years had take
her. Oh, she had been only waiting, afte
all. Nothing mattered any more. Eugen
and she had looked at duty differently
That was all. He was here now, here foher sake. Henceforth his people were t
be her people—his God her God. Uncl
Cornie was wise when he said of Eugene
"He comes nearer to what you've bee
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dreaming about." He seemed not so muc
a lover as a fulfilment of a craving fo
ove.
The first sweet moment of meeting wa
over. Her future, their future, shrouded
only by a rose-hued mist, beyond whic
ay light and ease, was waiting now fohem to enter upon. In this idyllic hou
Geraldine, daughter of Lesa Swaim, ha
come to the very zenith of life's romance.
"It has been a cruel three years, Jerry,
Eugene was saying, as, their first greeting
over, he lighted a cigarette and adjusted
himself picturesquely and easefully iYork Macpherson's big porch chair—a
handsome, perfectly groomed, artisti
fellow, he appeared fitted as never befor
o adorn life's ornamental places.
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"But they are past now. You won't have to
each any more, little cousin o' mine. York
Macpherson says your land lease expire
o-day. So your business transactions herare over, and we'll just throw that ground
n the river and forget it."
He might have taken the girl's hand in hias they sat together, but instead he clasped
his own hands gracefully and studied thei
fine outlines.
"I have all the Darby estate in my ow
name now, you know, and I didn't have to
work a stroke at earning it. God! I wonde
how a fellow can stand it to work foevery dollar he gets until he i
comfortably fixed. I simply filled in m
banking-hours in a perfunctory way, and
didn't kill myself at it, either. See what
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have saved by it for myself and you, an
how much better my course was tha
yours, after all. Just three years of waiting
and dodging all the drudgery I possiblcould. And you can just bet I'm a good
dodger, Jerry."
Something like a chill went quiverinhrough Jerry Swaim's whole being, bu
he smile in her eyes seemed fixed there
as Eugene went on:
"Now if I had stuck to art, where would
have been and where would you be righ
now? I've always wanted to paint th
prairies. If I can stand this blasted, crudcountry long enough, and if I'm not to
azy, we'll play around here a little while
ill I have smeared up a few canvases, an
hen we'll go home, never to return, dear
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Art is going to be my pastime hereafter
you know, as it was once my—my—"
"Oh, never mind what it once was." Jerrhelped to end the sentence.
The sunset on the Sage Brush was neve
more radiantly beautiful than it was on thi
evening, and the long midsummer twiligh
gave promise of its rarest grandeur o
coloring. But a dull veil seemed to b
slowly dropping down upon Jerry'world.
Eugene Wellington looked at her keenly.
"Why, Jerry, aren't you happy to see me—glad for us to be together again?" h
asked, with just a tinge of sharpnes
edging his tones.
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"I have looked forward to this meeting a
a dream, an impossible joy. I hardl
realize yet that it isn't a dream any more,
Jerry answered him.
"Say, cousin girl," Eugene Wellington
exclaimed, suddenly, "I have been tryin
all this time to find out what it is that ichanged in your face. Now I know. You
have grown to look so much more lik
your father than you did three years ago
Better looking, of course, but his face, annever noticed it before. Only you wil
always have your mother's beautiful eyes.
"Thank you, Gene. They were, each in hiand her way, good to me. I hope I shal
never put a stain upon their good names,
Jerry murmured, wondering strangel
whether the feeling that gripped her at th
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moment could be joy or sorrow.
"They didn't leave you much of a
nheritance. That's the only thing that coulbe said against them. My father was partl
o blame for that, I guess, but I never ha
he courage to tell you so till now. You
know courage and Eugene Wellingtonnever got on well together." Somehow hi
words seemed to rattle harshly agains
Jerry's ears. "You know, my dad, John
Wellington, came out here to this veryforsaken Sage Brush Valley somewhere
and started in to be a millionaire himsel
on short notice, by the short-cut plan o
finance. When the thing began to look likwork he threw up the whole blame
concern, just as I would have done. Work
never was a strong element in th
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Wellington blood, any more than courage
you know." Gene stopped to light anothe
cigarette. Then he went on: "Well, afte
hat, dad clung close to Jim Swaim anUncle Darby till he died. I guess, if th
ruth were told, he helped most to tea
your father down financially. He could do
hat kind of thing, I know. Jim Swaispent thousands stopping the cracks afte
dad, to save the good name of Wellington
for his daughter to wear—as your mothe
always hoped you would, because I wa
an artist then. You see, Mrs. Swaim loved
art—and, as Aunt Darby always insisted
that was before you ran away from her)because it would keep her money an
Uncle Darby's all in the family. That's wh
'm so glad to bring all this fortune that
do to you now. I'm just making up to you
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what your father lost through mine, yo
see, and it came to me so easily, withou
my having to grub for it. Just pleasin
Aunt Darby and taking a soft snap oclerical work, with short hours and goo
pay, instead of toiling at painting, even if
do love the old palette and brush. And
used to think I'd rather do that sort of thinhan anything else in the world."
Jerry's eyes were fixed on the youn
artist's face with a gaze that troubled him.
"Don't stare at me that way, Jerry. Tha
sn't the picture I want you to pose fo
when I paint your portrait, SainGeraldine. Now listen," Eugen
continued. "Your York Macpherson was
East this spring, and he told me that tha
wild-goose chase of dad's out here ha
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Jerry's face was white and her eye
burned blue-black now with a stead
glow. "Never, till to-night," she said
slowly. "I never dreamed till now howbarren a thing a lust for property ca
create."
Gene Wellington dropped his cigarettestub and stared a moment. He did no
grasp her meaning at all, but her voic
was not so pleasant, now, as her merr
augh and soft words had been three yearago.
"By the way, coming up to-day, I heard o
a dramatic situation. I think I'll hunt up thocal color for a canvas for it," Eugen
began, by way of changing the theme
"You know you had a horribly rotten
storm of thunder and lightning and wind
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and a cloudburst down the river valle
where our train was stuck in the mud, an
he tracks were all lost in the sand-drif
and other vile debris. Well, coming uphere from the derailed train, some on
said that the young fellow who had lease
hat land, or owned the land, that is jus
above the sand-line, the poor devil whhad such a struggle, you know—well, h
was lost when the river overflowed it
banks. But somebody else said he migh
be marooned, half starved, on an island o
sand out in the river, waiting for the flood
o go down. The roads are just impassabl
around there, so they can't get in to sewhat has become of him. His house wa
washed away, it seems—I saw a part of i
n the river—but nobody knows where h
s. Hard luck, wasn't it? I know you'll b
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glad to leave this God-forsaken country
won't you, dearie? How you ever stood i
for three whole years I can't comprehend
Only you always were the bravest girl ever knew. Just as soon as I paint a few o
ts drearinesses we'll be leaving i
forever. What's the matter?"
Jerry Swaim had sprung to her feet an
was standing, white and silent, staring a
her companion with wide-open, burnin
eyes. Against all the culture and idle easof her trivial, purposeless years wer
matched these three times twelve month
of industry and purpose that came at
price, with the comradeship of one whhad met life's foes and vanquished them
who earned his increase, and served an
sacrificed.
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"What's the matter, Jerry?" Gene repeated
"Did I shock you? It is a tragical sort o
story, I know, but you used to love the
romantic and adventurous. Every bistorm, and every flood, has such incidents
never remember them a minute, excep
he storm that took Uncle Cornie and lef
me a fortune. They are so unpleasant. Buhere is a touch of romance in this for you
They told me that a young Norwegian gir
down there was moving heaven and eart
o find this poor lost devil, because he ha
been so good to her always and ha
helped her when her brother was badl
hurt. I guess her brother went downstream, bottom side up, too. See the drif
of it all? The time, the place, and the gir
—there's your romance, Cousin Jerry
only the actors are terribly common, yo
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know."
Who can forecast the trend of the huma
heart? Three days ago Jerry had thoughcomplacently of the convenience of thi
stout little Thelma for Joe's future comfor
ow the thought that Thelma had seen hi
ast, had caught the last word, the lasbrave look, smote her heart with anguish.
"Doesn't anybody know where Joe is?
she cried, wringing her hands.
"I don't know if his name is Joe. I don
know if anybody knows where he is.
really don't care a sou about it all, Jerry.
Gene drawled his words intentionally
"The roads are awful down that way. The
nearly bumped me to pieces coming up
hours and hours, it seemed, in a wagon
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where a decent highway and a
automobile would have brought me i
such a short time. It would be hard to fin
his Joe creature, dead or alive. Let's talabout something more artistic."
"Gene, I can't talk now. I can't stay here
minute longer. I must go and find this manmust! I must!"
n the frenzy of that moment, the strength o
character in Jerry's face made iwonderful to see.
"Jerry!" Eugene Wellington exclaimed
emphatically. "You perfectly shock me
This horrid country has almost destroye
your culture. Go and find this man—"
But Jerry was already hurrying up th
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street toward Ponk's Commercial Hote
and Garage.
"Miss Swaim, you can't never get by in
car down there," Ponk was urging, fivminutes later. "I know you can drive lik
—like you can work algebra, logyruthms
and never slip a cog. But you'll never ge
down the Sage Brush that far to-night. Ihem Norwegians on beyond the ranch yo
side of the big bend 'ain't done nothing
you just can't. The Ekblads and the othe
neighbors will do all a body canespecially Thelmy. The river's clea
changed its channel an' you could run a ca
up to the top of Bunker Hill Monumen
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back in New Hampshire, easier than yo
could cut the gullies an' hit the levels o
he lower Sage Brush trail after thi
flood."
"Get the car ready quick. I want to go,
Jerry commanded, and Ponk obeyed. A
minute later a gray streak whizzed by thMacpherson home, where Eugen
Wellington stood on the porch staring in
speechless amazement.
"Bless her heart!" he ejaculated, at length
"She is self-willed like her dad. Aun
Darby always told me I'd have to manag
her with gloves on, but not to forget tmanage her, anyhow."
He strolled back to the Commercial Hote
where the best-natured man in Kansas la
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n wait for him.
"You're in early. Have a real cigar—a
regular Havany-de-Cuby—off of me. Anake a smoke out here where it's cool."
Eugene took the proffered cigar and th
seat on the side porch of the hotel tha
commanded a view of the street clear t
"Castle Cluny."
"Town's pretty quiet this evenin'. All the
men are gone up-stream or down, to see i
hey can help in the storm region. Ever
store shut up tight as wax. Thre
preachers, station-agent, the three movi
men—gone with the rest. We are a
sympathetic bunch out here, an' rathe
quick to get the S O S signal and respon
noble."
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"So it seems," Eugene replied, wonderin
he while how he should be able to kill th
ime till Jerry's return, resolving not t
arry here to paint a single canvas. Thsooner Geraldine Swaim was out o
Kansas the better for her perverted sens
of the esthetic, and the safer for he
happiness—and his own.
"Yes," Ponk was going on to say
"everybody helps. Why, I just now let ou
he pride of the gurrage to a young ladyShe's just heard that a man she knows wel
s lost or marooned on a island in th
floods of the Sage Brush. And i
anybody'll ever save him, she will. She'been doin' impossible things here for thre
years, and the town just worships her."
"I should think it would," Eugen
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broke in, curtly.
"Yes, Georgette, call George to take the
gentleman to number seven, an' put him tbed."
Then the little keeper of the Commercia
Hotel and Garage turned toward the stree
again, and his full-moon face went into
otal eclipse. But what lay back of tha
shadow of the earth upon it no man bu
Junius Brutus Ponk could know.
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XIX
RECLAIMED
Down the Sage Brush trail Jerry Swaim'car swept on in spite of ruts and gullie
and narrow roadways and obstructin
debris, flood-washed across the land. Bu
hough the machine leaped and climbeand skidded most perilously, nothin
daunted the girl with a grip on th
steering-wheel. The storm-center o
destruction had been at the big bend of th
river, and no hand less skilful, nor wil
ess determined, would have dared t
drive a car as Jerry Swaim drove her
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nto the heart of the Sage Brush flood
ands in the twilight of this June evening.
Where the forks of the trail should havbeen the girl paused and looked down th
road she had followed three years before
once when she had lost her way in he
drive toward the Swaim estate; againwhen she herself was lost in th
overwhelming surprise an
disappointment of her ruined acres; an
astly when she had come with JoThomson to recover her stolen mone
from the old grub whose shack was clos
beside the deep fishing-hole. The roa
now was all a part of the madoverwhelming Sage Brush hurrying it
flood waters to the southeast with all it
might. Where was the flimsy little shac
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now, and where was the old Teddy Bea
himself? Did his shabby form lie under th
swirling current of that angry river, hi
heroic old heart stilled forever?
A group of rescuers, muddy and tired
came around a growth of low bushes o
he higher ground toward her. All day theyhad been locating homeless flood victims
rescuing stock, and dragging far
mplements above the water-line. Th
sight of Ponk's best car, mud-smeared andpanting, amazed them. This wasn't a plac
for cars. But the face of the driver amaze
hem more.
"Why, it's Miss Swaim, that teacher up a
ew Eden!" one man exclaimed.
At the word, a boy, unrecognizable for th
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mud caking him over, leaped forward
oward Jerry's car.
"What are you doing, Miss Swaim?" hcried. "You mustn't go any farther! The
river's undermined everything! Pleas
don't go! Please don't!" he pleaded.
"Why, Clare Lenwell!" Jerry exclaimed
n surprise.
"Yes. This isn't my full-dress I wore a
Commencement the other night, but I'v
been saving lives to-day, and feeding th
hungry, too," the boy declared, forgettin
his besmeared clothing in the thought o
his service.
"Tell me, Clare, where is Joe Thomson—
mean the young man whose ranch is jus
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below here."
Clare's face couldn't go white under tha
mud, but Jerry saw his hand tremble as icaught the edge of her wind-shield.
"He's gone down-stream, I'm afraid. The
say his home is clean gone. We have been
across the river and came over on tha
high bridge. I don't know much about thi
side. They said Thelma Ekblad tried t
save him and nearly got lost herself. Hebrother, the cripple, you know, couldn'
get away. Their house is gone now. He
and the Belkap baby were given up fo
ost when old Fishin' Teddy got to themsome way. He knew the high stepping
stones below the deep hole and hit the
rue every step. They said he went nearl
neck deep holding Paul and striking soli
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rock every time. He'd lived by the river s
ong he knew the crossing, deep as th
flood was over it. Paul made him take th
baby first, and he got out with it, all righand would have been safe, but he wa
bound to go back for Paul, too; and he go
him safe to land, where the baby was; bu
guess the effort was too much for the olfellow, and he loosed his hold and fel
back into the river before they could catc
him. He saved two lives, though, and h
wasn't any use to the community, anyhow
A man that lives alone like that never is
so it isn't much loss, after all. But that bi
Joe Thomson's another matter. And he waso strong, he could swim like a whale; bu
he Sage Brush got him—I'm afraid."
Jerry's engine gave a great thump as sh
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flung on all the power and dashed awa
on the upper road toward Joe Thomson'
ranch.
"At the bend of the river you turn towar
he three cottonwoods." Jerry recalled th
directions given her on her first and onl
ourney down this valley three yearbefore.
"Why, why, there is no bend any more!
she cried as she halted her car and gazen amazement and horror at the rive
valley where a broad, full stream poure
down a new-cut channel straight to th
south.
"Joe's home isn't gone at all! Yonder i
stands, safe and high above the flood-line
Oh, where did the river take Joe?" Sh
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wisted her hands in her old quick
nervous way, and stiffened every muscl
as if to keep off a dead weight that wa
crushing down upon her.
"He said if I wanted him he would b
down beyond the blowout. I'm going t
ook for him there. I don't know wherelse to go, and I want him."
The white, determined face and firm lip
bespoke Jim Swaim's own child now. Anf the speed of her car was increased, n
one would ever know that the thought o
reaching her goal ahead of any possibl
Thelma might be the impetus that gave thncrease.
"Yonder are the three cotton woods. From
here I can see the oak-grove and all of m
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"Jerry!" The glad cry broke from his lip
nvoluntarily.
Jerry did not speak. After the first instanof assurance that Joe was alive, her eye
were not on the young ranchman, but o
he landscape beyond him. There, billow
on billow of waving young wheabreaking against the oak-wood outpos
swept in from far away, where once sh
had looked out on nothing but burning
restless sand, spiked here and there by struggling green shrub.
"What has done all this?" she cried, a
ast.
"I'm partly 'what,'" Joe Thomson replied
The shadows were on his face again, an
his loss, after that moment of gla
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surprise, seemed to be doubly heavy.
"But how? I don't understand. I'
dreaming. You really are here, and nodead, are you?"
"No, you are not dreaming. I only wis
you were," Joe responded, gloomily. "Bu
no matter. Yes, I'm here. 'Part of me lived
but most of me died,'" he muttere
Kipling's line half audibly. "I subleased
your land from the Macpherson MortgagCompany three years ago. The leas
expires to-day. You remember what it wa
worth when you saw it before. I shall han
t over to you now, worth thirty dollars aacre. Thirty thousand dollars, at the ver
east, besides the value of the crop. I go
beyond the blowout and followed it up.
plowed and planted. Lord! how I plowe
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and planted! And as with old Paul and
Apollos, it was God who gave th
ncrease."
"Joe! Oh, Joe! You are a miracle
worker!" Jerry cried.
"A worker, all right, maybe. And all life
s a miracle," Joe declared, gravely.
"But your own land, Joe. They told me tha
your house was gone and that maybe yo
had gone with it, and that these road
down here were impassable and nobod
could find you."
Joe came to the side of the little gray cawhere Jerry sat with her white hand
crossed on the steering-wheel. Her sof
white gown, fitted for a summer afternoo
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on the Macpherson porch, seemed fa
more lovely in the evening light down b
he oak-trees. Her golden hair was blow
n little ringlets about her forehead, anher dark-blue eyes—Joe wondered i
ature ever gave such eyes to anothe
human being!
"No, Jerry, my house isn't gone. My fathe
built it up pretty high above the river, and
saved almost everything loose before th
flood reached my place. It was the Ekblahouse that went down the river. I wen
over there to help Thelma get her brothe
and the baby to safety on the high ground
She had started out to warn old FishinTeddy, thinking her own family was
secure, and afraid he would get caught
She could not get back to them, no
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anywhere else. I saved her, all right, bu
when I went back after Paul and the baby
he home and those in it were gone down
stream. Thelma thought we were all lostThat's how the story got started. Ol
Teddy is gone, but I heard later that the
others are saved. Their home wasn't wort
so very much. They got most of the reavaluable things—photographs of thei
dead father and mother, and the famil
Bible, and deeds, and a few trinkets
Other things don't count. Money wil
replace them. Anyhow, York Macpherson
s buying their land at a good figure. I
will give Thelma the chance she's wante—to go to a college town and teac
botany. She will make her way and carry
name among educators yet, and suppor
Paul and the baby, all right, too. Did th
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folks miss me and say I had gone down th
river? Well, I didn't. I'm here. And as to
all this"—he waved his hand toward th
wheat—"I can net a right good bankaccount for myself and I can pay off th
mortgage I put on my claim to pay th
ease on yours, and for steam-plows an
such things. It has been a bumper year fowheat down here. I have reclaimed th
and from the desert. It will revert to yo
now—you and your artist cousin jointly,
suppose. The river helped to finish th
work for me—found its old bed in tha
ow sandy streak where years ago th
blowout began. It has straightened its benfor itself and got away from that ledg
below the deep hole, and left the rest o
he ground, all the upper portion of th
blowout, yours and mine, covered with
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fine silt, splendid for cultivation. Th
blowout is dead. It took hard work an
patience and a big risk, of course, and th
Lord Almighty at last for a partner in thfirm to kill it off. Your own comes back to
you now. Can I be of any further service t
you?"
As he stood there with folded arms besid
he car, tall and rugged, with the triump
of overcoming deep written on his sa
face, the width of the earth seemesuddenly to yawn between him and th
ucky artist who had inherited a fortun
without labor.
"You have done more than to reclaim thi
ground, Joe," Jerry exclaimed
"Miraculous as it all is, there is a bigge
desert than this, the waste and useles
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desert in the human heart. You have
helped to reclaim to a better life a foolish
romancing, daring girl, with no tru
conception of what makes life wortwhile. All the Sage Brush Valley has been
good to me. York and Laura Macpherson
n their well-bred, wholesome friendship
ittle Mr. Ponk in his deep love for himother and faith in God; even old Teddy
Bear, poor lost creature, in his sublim
devotion to duty, protecting the woman h
had vowed once at the marriage altar tha
he would protect; and, most of all"—
Jerry's voice was soft and low—"a sturdy
brave young farmer has helped me by hirespect for honest labor and hi
willingness to sacrifice for others.
"Joe"—Jerry spoke more softly stil
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—"when you said good-by the other nigh
n the storm, you told me that if I eve
wanted you I'd find you down beyond th
blowout. The word was like a blow in thface then. But to-night I left Cousin Gen
up at New Eden and came here to fin
you, because I want you."
With all of Jim Swaim's power to estimat
values written in her firm mouth and chin
but with Lesa Swaim's love of romanc
shining in her dark eyes, Jerry looked ushyly at Joe. And Joe understood.
THE END
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End of Project Gutenberg's The Reclaimers
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