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Cap'n Warren's Wards

by Joseph Crosby Lincoln · English · Gutenberg #3280 · 610,491 chars · public domain (US)

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Title: Cap'n Warren's Wards

Author: Joseph Crosby Lincoln


        
Release date: June 3, 2006 [eBook #3280]
                Most recently updated: September 28, 2016

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/3280

Credits: Produced by Donald Lainson and D. A. Alexander


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CAP'N WARREN'S WARDS ***




Produced by Donald Lainson and D. A. Alexander





 CAP’N WARREN’S WARDS

 By Joseph C. Lincoln

 Author of “The Depot Master,” “The Woman Haters,”
  “The Postmaster,” “Cap’n Erie,”
  “Mr. Pratt,” etc.

 WITH ILLUSTRATIONS
 BY EDMUND FREDERICK

 A. L. BURT COMPANY
 PUBLISHERS NEW YORK




 COPYRIGHT 1911, BY
 D. APPLETON AND COMPANY

 _Published October, 1911_

 Printed in the United States of America




[Illustration: “Captain Warren had risen from his chair and was facing
her.” [Page 48]]




CAP’N WARREN’S WARDS




CHAPTER I


“Ostable!” screamed the brakeman, opening the car door and yelling his
loudest, so as to be heard above the rattle of the train and the shriek
of the wind; “Ostable!”

The brakeman’s cap was soaked through, his hair was plastered down on
his forehead, and, in the yellow light from the car lamps, his wet nose
glistened as if varnished. Over his shoulders the shiny ropes of rain
whipped and lashed across the space between the cars. The windows
streamed as each succeeding gust flung its miniature freshet against
them.

The passengers in the car--there were but four of them--did not seem
greatly interested in the brakeman’s announcement. The red-faced person
in the seat nearest the rear slept soundly, as he had done for the
last hour and a half. He had boarded the train at Brockton, and, after
requesting the conductor not to “lemme me git by Bayport, Bill,” at
first favored his fellow travelers with a song and then sank into
slumber.

The two elderly men sitting together on the right-hand side of the car
droned on in their apparently endless Jeremiad concerning the low price
of cranberries, the scarcity of scallops on the flats, the reasons why
the fish weirs were a failure nowadays, and similar cheerful topics. And
in his seat on the left, Mr. Atwood Graves, junior partner in the New
York firm of Sylvester, Kuhn and Graves, lawyers, stirred uneasily on
the lumpy plush cushion, looked at his watch, then at the time-table in
his hand, noted that the train was now seventy-two minutes late, and
for at least the fifteenth time mentally cursed the railway company, the
whole of Cape Cod from Sandwich to Provincetown, and the fates which had
brought him there.

The train slowed down, in a jerky, hiccoughy sort of way, and crept
on till the car in which Mr. Graves was seated was abreast the lighted
windows of a small station, where it stopped. Peering through the
water-streaked pane at the end of his seat, the lawyer saw dim
silhouettes of uncertain outline moving about. They moved with provoking
slowness. He felt that it would be joy unspeakable to rush out there and
thump them into animation. The fact that the stately Atwood Graves even
thought of such an undignified proceeding is sufficient indication of
his frame of mind.

Then, behind the door which the brakeman, after announcing the station,
had closed again, sounded a big laugh. The heartiness of it grated on
Mr. Graves’s nerves. What idiot could laugh on such a night as this
aboard a train over an hour late?

The laugh was repeated. Then the door was flung briskly open, and a
man entered the car. He was a big man, broad-shouldered, inclined to
stoutness, wearing a cloth cap with a visor, and a heavy ulster, the
collar of which was turned up. Through the gap between the open ends of
the collar bristled a short, grayish beard. The face above the beard and
below the visor was sunburned, with little wrinkles about the eyes and
curving lines from the nostrils to the corners of the mouth. The upper
lip was shaved, and the eyebrows were heavy and grayish black. Cap,
face, and ulster were dripping with water.

The newcomer paused in the doorway for an instant, evidently to add the
finishing touch to a conversation previously begun.

“Well, I tell you, Ezra,” he called, over his shoulder, “if it’s too
deep to wade, maybe I can swim. Fat floats, they tell me, and Abbie says
I’m gettin’ fleshier every day. So long.”

He closed the door and, smiling broadly, swung down the aisle. The pair
of calamity prophets broke off their lament over the declining fisheries
and greeted him almost jovially.

“Hello, Cap’n!” cried one. “What’s the south shore doin’ over here in
this flood?”

“What’s the matter, Cap’n?” demanded the other. “Broke loose from your
moorin’s, have you? Did you ever see such a night in your life?”

The man in the ulster shook hands with each of his questioners, removing
a pair of wet, heavy leather gloves as he did so.

“Don’t know’s I ever did, Dan,” he answered. “Couldn’t see much of this
one but its color--and that’s black. I come over this mornin’ to
attend to some business at the court-house--deeds to some cranberry bog
property I just bought--and Judge Baxter made me go home with him to
dinner. Stayed at his house all the afternoon, and then his man, Ezra
Hallett, undertook to drive me up here to the depot. Talk about blind
pilotin’! Whew! The Judge’s horse was a new one, not used to the roads,
Ezra’s near-sighted, and I couldn’t use my glasses ‘count of the rain.
Let alone that, ‘twas darker’n the fore-hold of Noah’s ark. Ho, ho!
Sometimes we was in the ruts and sometimes we was in the bushes. I told
Ez we’d ought to have fetched along a dipsy lead, then maybe we could
get our bearin’s by soundin’s. ‘Couldn’t see ‘em if we did get ‘em,’
says he. ‘No,’ says I, ‘but we could taste ‘em. Man that’s driven
through as much Ostable mud as you have ought to know the taste of every
road in town.’”

“Well, you caught the train, anyhow,” observed Dan.

“Yup. If we’d been crippled as _well_ as blind we could have done that.”
 He seated himself just in front of the pair and glanced across the aisle
at Mr. Graves, to find the latter looking intently at him.

“Pretty tough night,” he remarked, nodding.

“Yes,” replied the lawyer briefly. He did not encourage conversation
with casual acquaintances. The latest arrival had caught his attention
because there was something familiar about him. It seemed to Graves that
he must have seen him before; and yet that was very improbable. This
was the attorney’s first visit to Cape Cod, and he had already vowed
devoutly that it should be his last. He turned a chilling shoulder to
the trio opposite and again consulted the time-table. Denboro was the
next station; then--thank the Lord--South Denboro, his destination.

Conversation across the aisle was brisk, and its subjects were many and
varied. Mr. Graves became aware, more or less against his will, that
the person called “Cap’n” was, if not a leader in politics and local
affairs, still one whose opinions counted. Some of those opinions, as
given, were pointed and dryly descriptive; as, for instance, when a
certain town-meeting candidate was compared to a sculpin--“with a big
head that sort of impresses you, till you get close enough to realize it
_has_ to be big to make room for so much mouth.” Graves, who was fond
of salt water fishing, knew what a sculpin was, and appreciated the
comparison.

The conductor entered the car and stopped to collect a ticket from his
new passenger. It was evident that he, too, was acquainted with the
latter.

“Evening, Cap’n,” he said, politely. “Train’s a little late to-night.”

“It is--for to-night’s train,” was the prompt response, “but if it keeps
on at the rate it’s travelin’ now, it’ll be a little early for to-morrow
mornin’s, won’t it?”

The conductor laughed. “Guess you’re right,” he said. “This is about as
wet a storm as I’ve run through since I’ve been on the road. If we get
to Provincetown without a washout we’ll be lucky.... Well, we’ve made
another hitch. So far, so good.”

The brakeman swung open the door to shout, “Denboro! Denboro!” the
conductor picked up his lantern and hurried away, the locomotive
whistled hoarsely, and the train hiccoughed alongside another little
station. Mr. Graves, peering through his window, imagined that here
the silhouettes on the platform moved more briskly. They seemed almost
excited. He inferred that Denboro was a bigger and more wide-awake
village than Ostable.

But he was mistaken. The reason for the excitement was made plain by the
conductor a moment afterwards. That official entered the car, removed
his uniform cap, and rubbed a wet forehead with a wetter hand.

“Well, gentlemen,” he said, “I’ve been expecting it, and here it is.
Mark me down as a good prophet, will you? There’s a washout a mile
further on, and a telegraph pole across the track. It’s blowing great
guns and raining pitchforks. It’ll be out of the question for us to go
forward before daylight, if then. Darn a railroad man’s job anyhow!”

Five minutes later Mr. Graves descended the steps of the car, his
traveling bag in one hand and an umbrella in the other. As soon as
both feet were securely planted on the platform, he put down the bag
to wrestle with the umbrella and the hurricane, which was apparently
blowing from four directions at once. Feeling his hat leaving his head,
he became aware that the umbrella had turned inside out. He threw the
wreck violently under the train and stooped to pick up the bag. The bag
was no longer there.

“It’s all right,” said a calm voice behind him. “I’ve got your satchel,
neighbor. Better beat for harbor, hadn’t we? Here! this way.”

The bewildered New Yorker felt his arm seized in a firm grip, and he was
rushed across the platform, through a deluge of wind-driven water, and
into a small, hot, close-smelling waiting room. When he pushed his hat
clear of his eyes he saw that his rescuer was the big man who boarded
the train at Ostable. He was holding the missing bag and smiling.

“Dirty weather, hey?” he observed, pleasantly. “Sorry your umbrella had
to go by the board. I see you was carryin’ too much canvas and tried to
run alongside in time to give you a tow; but you was dismasted just as I
got there. Here’s your dunnage, all safe and sound.”

He extended the traveling bag at arm’s length. Mr. Graves accepted his
property and murmured thanks, not too cordially. His dignity and temper
had gone overboard with the umbrella, and he had not yet recovered them.

“Well,” went on his companion, “here we are! And I, for one, wanted to
be somewheres else. Caleb,” turning to the station master, who came in
at that moment, “any way of my gettin’ home to-night?”

“‘Fraid not, Cap’n,” was the answer. “I don’t know of any. Guess you’ll
have to put up at the hotel and wait till mornin’.”

“That’s right,” agreed the passenger called “Dan,” who was standing
near. “That’s what Jerry and I are goin’ to do.”

“Yes, but you and Jerry are bound for Orham. I’m booked for South
Denboro, and that’s only seven miles off. I’d _swim_ the whole seven
rather than put up at Sim Titcomb’s hotel. I’ve been there afore, thank
you! Look here, Caleb, can’t I hire a team and drive over?”

“Well, I don’t know. S’pose you might ring up Pete Shattuck and ask him.
He’s pretty particular about his horses, though, and I cal’late he--”

“All right. I’ll ring him up. Pete ought to get over some of his
particularness to oblige me. I’ve helped _him_ once or twice.”

He was on his way to the ticket office, where the telephone hung on the
wall. But Mr. Graves stepped forward and spoke to him.

“Excuse me, sir,” said the lawyer. “Did I understand you to say you were
going to South Denboro?”

“Yes. I am, if the powers--and Pete Shattuck--‘ll let me.”

“You were going to drive over? May I go with you? I’m very anxious to
get to South Denboro to-night. I have some very important business
there, and I want to complete it and get away to-morrow. I must be back
in New York by the morning following.”

The captain looked his questioner over. There was a doubtful look on his
face, and he smiled quizzically.

“Well, I don’t know, Mr.--”

“Graves is my name.”

“I don’t know, Mr. Graves. This ain’t goin’ to be a pleasure cruise
exactly. You might get pretty wet.”

“I don’t care. I can get dry again when I get there. Of course I shall
share the expense of the livery. I shall be greatly obliged if I may go
with you. If not, I must try for a rig myself.”

“Oh, if you feel that way about it, why, come ahead and welcome. I was
only warnin’ you, that’s all. However, with me aboard for ballast, I
guess we won’t blow away. Wait a jiffy till I get after Pete.”

He entered the ticket office and raised a big hand to the little crank
of the telephone bell.

“Let’s see, Caleb,” he called; “what’s Shattuck’s number?”

“Four long and two short,” answered the station master.

Graves, wondering vaguely what sort of telephone system was in use on
Cape Cod, heard his prospective pilot ring the instrument for a full two
seconds, repeating the ring four times altogether. This he followed with
two sharp tinkles. Then came a series of shouted “Hellos!” and, at last,
fragments of one-half of a dialogue.

“That you, Shattuck? Know who this is, don’t you? Yes, that’s right....
Say, how many folks listen every time a bell rings on this line? I’ve
heard no less’n eight receivers come down so far.... Two of ‘em went up
then, did you hear ‘em?... Sartin.... I want to hire a team to go over
home with.... To-night--Sartin.... I don’t care.... Yes, you will,
too.... _Yes_, you _will_... Send my man back with it to-morrow... I
don’t care _what_ it is, so it’s got four legs and wheels....”

And so on for at least five minutes. Then the captain hung up the
receiver and came back to the waiting room.

“Bargain’s made, Mr. Graves,” he announced. “Pete’ll have some sort of
a turn-out alongside soon’s he can get it harnessed. If you’ve got any
extra storm duds in that satchel of yours, I’d advise you to put ‘em on.
We’re goin’ to have a rough passage.”

Just how rough it was likely to be, Graves realized when he emerged from
the station to board the Shattuck buggy. “Pete” himself had driven the
equipage over from the livery stable.

“I wouldn’t do this for anybody but you, Cap’n,” he vouchsafed, in what
might be called a reproachful shout. Shouting was necessary, owing to
the noise of the storm.

“Wouldn’t do what?” replied the captain, looking first at the ancient
horse and then at the battered buggy.

“Let this horse out a night like this.”

“Humph! I should think night would be the only time you would let him
out.... There! there! never mind. Get aboard, Mr. Graves. Put your
satchel on the floor between your feet. Here, let me h’ist that boot for
you.”

The “boot” was a rubber curtain buttoned across the front of the buggy,
extending from the dashboard to just below the level of the driver’s
eyes. The lawyer clambered in behind it, the captain followed, the end
of the reins was passed through a slit in the boot, Mr. Shattuck, after
inquiring if they were “all taut,” gave the command, “Gid-dap!” and
horse and buggy moved around the corner of the station, out into
darkness.

Of the next hour Graves’s memories are keen but monotonous,--a strong
smell of stable, arising from the laprobe which had evidently been
recently used as a horse blanket; the sound of hoofs, in an interminable
“jog, jog--splash, splash,” never hurrying; a series of exasperated
howls from the captain, who was doing his best to make them hurry; the
thunderous roar of rain on the buggy top and the shrieking gale which
rocked the vehicle on its springs and sent showers of fine spray driving
in at every crack and crevice between the curtains.

The view ahead, over the boot, was blackness, bordered by spidery trees
and branches whipping in the wind. Occasionally they passed houses
sitting well back from the road, a lighted window gleaming cozily. And
ever, as they moved, the storm seemed to gather force.

Graves noticed this and, at length, when his nervousness had reached
the breaking point, screamed a question in his companion’s ear. They
had attempted no conversation during the ride, the lawyer, whose
contemptuous opinion of the locality and all its inhabitants was now a
conviction, feeling that the result would not be worth the effort, and
the captain busy with his driving.

“It is blowing worse than ever, isn’t it?” yelled the nervous Graves.

“Hey? No, just about the same. It’s dead sou’west and we’re getting out
of the woods, that’s all. Up on those bare hills we catch the full force
of it right off the Sound. Be there pretty soon now, if this Old Hundred
of a horse would quit walkin’ in his sleep and really move. Them lights
ahead are South Denboro.”

The lights were clustered at the foot of a long and rather steep hill.
Down the declivity bounced and rocked the buggy. The horse’s hoofs
sounded hollow on the planks of a bridge. The road narrowed and became
a village street, bordered and arched by tall trees which groaned and
threshed in the hurricane. The rain, as it beat in over the boot, had,
so the lawyer fancied, a salty taste.

The captain bent down. “Say, Mister,” he shouted, “where was it you
wanted to stop? Who is it you’re lookin’ for?”

“What?”

“I say--Heavens to Betsy! how that wind does screech!--I say where’bouts
shall I land you. This is South Denboro. Whose house do you want to go
to?”

“I’m looking for one of your leading citizens. Elisha Warren is his
name.”

“What?”

“Elisha Warren. I--”

He was interrupted. There was a sharp crack overhead, followed by a
tremendous rattle and crash. Then down upon the buggy descended what,
to Graves, appeared to be an avalanche of scratching, tearing twigs
and branches. They ripped away the boot and laprobe and jammed him back
against the seat, their sharp points against his breast. The buggy was
jerked forward a few feet and stopped short.

He heard the clatter of hoofs and shouts of “Whoa!” and “Stand
still!” He tried to rise, but the tangle of twigs before him seemed
impenetrable, so he gave it up and remained where he was. Then, after an
interval, came a hail from the darkness.

“Hi, there! Mr. Graves, ahoy! Hurt, be you?”

“No,” the lawyer’s tone was doubtful. “No--o, I--I guess not. That you,
Captain?”

“Yes, it’s me. Stand still, you foolhead! Quit your hoppin’ up and
down!” These commands were evidently addressed to the horse. “Glad you
ain’t hurt. Better get out, hadn’t you?”

“I--I’m not sure that I can get out. What on earth has happened?”

“Tree limb carried away. Lucky for us we got the brush end, ‘stead of
the butt. Scooch down and see if you can’t wriggle out underneath. I
did.”

Mr. Graves obediently “scooched.” After a struggle he managed to slide
under the tangle of branches and, at length, stood on his feet in the
road beside the buggy. The great limb had fallen across the street, its
heavy end near the walk. As the captain had said, it was fortunate for
the travelers that the “brush” only had struck the carriage.

Graves found his companion standing at the horse’s head, holding the
frightened animal by the bridle. The rain was descending in a flood.

“Well!” gasped the agitated New Yorker. “I’ll be hanged if this isn’t--”

“Ain’t it? But say, Mr. Graves, _who_ did you say you was comin’ to
see?”

“Oh, a person named Elisha Warren. He lives in this forsaken hole
somewhere, I believe. If I had known what an experience I must go
through to reach him, I’d have seen him at the devil.”

From the bulky figure at the horse’s head came a chuckle.

“Humph! Well, Mr. Graves, if the butt of that limb had fetched us,
instead of t’other end, I don’t know but you _might_ have seen him
there. I’m Elisha Warren, and that’s my house over yonder where the
lights are.”




CHAPTER II


“This is your room, Mr. Graves,” said Miss Abigail Baker, placing
the lighted lamp on the bureau. “And here’s a pair of socks and some
slippers. They belong to Elisha--Cap’n Warren, that is--but he’s got
more. Cold water and towels and soap are on the washstand over yonder;
but I guess you’ve had enough _cold_ water for one night. There’s plenty
hot in the bathroom at the end of the hall. After you change your wet
things, just leave ‘em spread out on the floor. I’ll come fetch ‘em by
and by and hang ‘em to dry in the kitchen. Come right downstairs when
you’re ready. Anything else you want? No? All right then. You needn’t
hurry. Supper’s waited an hour ‘n’ a half as ‘tis. ‘Twon’t hurt it to
wait a spell longer.”

She went away, closing the door after her. The bewildered, wet and
shivering New Yorker stared about the room, which, to his surprise, was
warm and cozy. The warmth was furnished, so he presently discovered,
by a steam radiator in the corner. Radiators and a bathroom! These were
modern luxuries he would have taken for granted, had Elisha Warren been
the sort of man he expected to find, the country magnate, the leading
citizen, fitting brother to the late A. Rodgers Warren, of Fifth Avenue
and Wall Street.

But the Captain Warren who had driven him to South Denboro in the rain
was not that kind of man at all. His manner and his language were as far
removed from those of the late A. Rodgers as the latter’s brown stone
residence was from this big rambling house, with its deep stairs and
narrow halls, its antiquated pictures and hideous, old-fashioned wall
paper; as far removed as Miss Baker, whom the captain had hurriedly
introduced as “my second cousin keepin’ house for me,” was from the
dignified butler at the mansion on Fifth Avenue. Patchwork comforters
and feather beds were not, in the lawyer’s scheme of things, fit
associates for radiators and up-to-date bathrooms. And certainly this
particular Warren was not fitted to be elder brother to the New York
broker who had been Sylvester, Kuhn and Graves’ client.

It could not be, it _could_ not. There must be some mistake. In country
towns there were likely to be several of the same name. There must be
another Elisha Warren. Comforted by this thought, Mr. Graves opened his
valise, extracted therefrom other and drier articles of wearing apparel,
and proceeded to change his clothes.

Meanwhile, Miss Abigail had descended the stairs to the sitting room.
Before a driftwood fire in a big brick fireplace sat Captain Warren in
his shirt-sleeves, a pair of mammoth carpet slippers on his feet, and
the said feet stretched luxuriously out toward the blaze.

“Abbie,” observed the captain, “this is solid comfort. Every time I go
away from home I get into trouble, don’t I? Last trip I took to Boston,
I lost thirty dollars, and--”

“Lost it!” interrupted Miss Baker, tartly. “Gave it away, you mean.”

“I didn’t _give_ it away. I lent it. Abbie, you ought to know the
difference between a gift and a loan.”

“I do--when there is any difference. But if lendin’ Tim Foster ain’t
givin’ it away, then I miss my guess.”

“Well,” with another chuckle, “Tim don’t feel that way. He swore right
up and down that he wouldn’t take a cent--as a gift. I offered to make
him a present of ten dollars, but he looked so shocked that I apologized
afore he could say no.”

“Yes, and then _lent_ him that thirty. Shocked! The only thing that
would shock that good-for-nothin’ is bein’ set to work. What possessed
you to be such a soft-head, _I_ don’t know. When you get back a copper
of that money I’ll believe the millennium’s struck, that’s all.”

“Hum! Well, I’ll help you believe it--that is, if I have time afore I
drop dead of heart disease. Abbie, you’d make a good lawyer; you can get
up an argument out of a perfect agreement. I said the thirty dollars
was lost, to begin with. But I knew Tim Foster’s mother when she used
to think that boy of hers was the eighth wonder of the world. And I
promised her I’d do what I could for him long’s I lived.... But it seems
to me we’ve drifted some off the course, ain’t we? What I started to say
was that every time I go away from home I get into trouble. Up to Boston
‘twas Tim and his ‘loan.’ To-night it’s about as healthy a sou’wester
as I’ve ever been out in. Dan fetched in the team, has he?”

“Yes. It’s in the stable. He says the buggy dash is pretty well
scratched up, and that it’s a wonder you and that Graves man wa’n’t
killed. Who is he, anyhow?”

“Land knows, I don’t.”

“You don’t know! Then what’s he doin’ here?”

“Changin’ his duds, I guess. That’s what I’d do if I looked as much like
a drowned rat as he did.”

“‘Lisha Warren! if you ain’t the most _provoking’_ thing! Don’t be so
unlikely. You know what I mean. What’s he come here, to this house,
for?”

“Don’t know, Abbie. I didn’t know he _was_ comin’ here till just as we
got down yonder by Emery’s corner. I asked him who he was lookin’ for,
he said ‘Elisha Warren,’ and then the tree caved in on us.”

“‘Lisha, you--you don’t s’pose ‘twas a--_sign_, do you?”

“Sign?”

“Yes, a sign, a prophecy-like, a warnin’ that somethin’ is goin’ to
happen.”

The captain put back his head and laughed.

“Sign somethin’ _had_ happened, I should think,” he answered. “What’s
_goin’_ to happen is that Pete Shattuck’ll get his buggy painted
free-for-nothin’, at my expense. How’s supper gettin’ along? Is it
ready?”

“Ready? It’s been ready for so long that it’ll have to be got ready
all over again if.... Oh! Come right in, Mr. Graves! I hope you’re drier
now.”

Captain Warren sprang from the chair to greet his visitor, who was
standing in the doorway.

“Yes, come right in, Mr. Graves,” he urged, cordially. “Set down by the
fire and make yourself comf’table. Abbie’ll have somethin’ for us to eat
in a jiffy. Pull up a chair.”

The lawyer came forward hesitatingly. The doubts which had troubled him
ever since he entered the house were still in his mind.

“Thank you, Captain,” he said. “But before I accept more of your
hospitality I feel I should be sure there is no mistake. I have come on
important business, and--”

“Hold on!” The captain held up a big hand. “Don’t you say another word,”
 he commanded. “There’s just one business that interests me this minute,
and that’s supper. There’s no mistake about _that_, anyhow. Did you say
‘Come ahead,’ Abbie? or was you just going to? Good! Right into the
dinin’ room, Mr. Graves.”

The dining room was long and low. The woodwork was white, the floor
green painted boards, with braided rag mats scattered over them.
There were old-fashioned pictures on the walls, pictures which brought
shudders to the artistic soul of Atwood Graves. A broad bay window
filled one side of the apartment, and in this window, on shelves and in
wire baskets, were Miss Baker’s cherished and carefully tended plants.
As for the dining table, it was dark, old-fashioned walnut, as were the
chairs.

“Set right down here, Mr. Graves,” ordered the captain. “I’ll try
to keep you supplied with solid cargo, and Abbie’ll ‘tend to the
moistenin’. Hope that teapot is full up, Abbie. Hot tea tastes good
after you’ve swallered as much cold rain as Mr. Graves and I have...
Father-we-thank-thee-for-these-mercies-set-before-us-Amen.... How’s
your appetite when it comes to clam pie, Mr. Graves?”

Mr. Graves’s appetite was good, and the clam pie was good. So, too,
were the hot biscuits and the tea and homemade preserves and cake.
Conversation during the meal was, for the most part, a monologue by the
captain. He gave Miss Baker a detailed and exaggerated account of his
adventures in Ostable, on board the train, and during the drive home.
The housekeeper listened, fidgeting in her chair.

“‘Lisha Warren,” she interrupted, “how you do talk! Rainin’ so hard you
had to hold the reins taut to keep the horse’s head out of water so he
wouldn’t drown! The idea!”

“Fact,” asserted Captain Warren, with a wink at his guest. “And that
wa’n’t the worst of it. ‘Twas so dark I had to keep feelin’ the buggy
with my foot to be sure I was in it. Ain’t that so, Mr. Graves?... Here!
Abbie won’t like to have you set lookin’ at that empty plate. She’s
always afraid folks’ll notice the gilt’s wearin’ off. Pass it over
quick, and let me cover it with some more pie.”

“Yes, and have some more tea,” urged Miss Abbie. “You mustn’t pay
attention to what he says, Mr. Graves,” she went on. “Some day he’ll
tell the truth by accident, and then I’ll know it’s time to send for the
doctor.”

Several times the lawyer attempted to mention the business which had
brought him to the Cape, and the probability of his having made a
mistake. But neither host nor housekeeper would listen.

“When you’ve been in South Denboro as long as I have,” declared the
former, “you’ll understand that the time to talk business is when you
can’t think of anything else. Wait till we get into the settin’ room.
Abbie, those six or eight biscuits I’ve ate are gettin’ lonesome. I’ll
take another for sociability, thank you.”

But, at last, when all the biscuits but one were gone, and the cake
plate looked like the Desert of Sahara, the captain pushed back his
chair, rose, and led the way into the next room. Miss Baker remained to
clear the table.

“Set down by the fire, Mr. Graves,” urged the captain. “Nothin’ like
burnin’ wood to look hot and comf’table, is there? It don’t always make
you feel that way--that’s why I put in hot water heat--but for looks and
sociableness you can’t beat a log fire. Smoke, do you?”

“Yes. Occasionally. But, Captain Warren--”

“Here, try that. It’s a cigar the Judge gave me over to Ostable. He
smokes that kind reg’lar, but if you don’t like it, throw it away.
He ain’t here to see you do it, so you won’t be fined for contempt of
court. I’ll stick to a pipe, if you don’t mind. Now we’re shipshape
and all taut, I cal’late. Let’s see, you wanted to talk business, I
believe.”

“Yes, I did. But before I begin I should like to be sure you are the
Elisha Warren I came from New York to interview. Is there another of
that name in Denboro?”

“Um-hm. There’s Warrens a-plenty all through this section of the Cape.
Our family blew ashore here a hundred and fifty years ago, or such
matter. My dad’s name was Elisha; so was my grandfather’s. Both sea
cap’ns, and both dead. There’s another Elisha livin’ over on the shore
lane.”

“Indeed. Then perhaps it is he I want.”

“P’raps. He’s keeper of the town poorhouse. I can tell you better if you
give me an idea what your business is.”

“I am an attorney. And now let me ask another question, please. Have
you--had you a brother in business in New York?”

“Hey?” The captain turned and looked his guest squarely in the eye. His
brows drew together.

“I’ve got a brother in New York,” he answered, slowly. “Did _he_ send
you here?”

“Was your brother’s name A. Rodgers Warren?”

“‘A. Rodgers’? No. His name is Abijah Warren, and--Wait! His middle name
is Rodgers, though. Did ‘Bije send you to me?”

“A moment, Captain. Was your brother a broker?”

“Yes. His office is--or used to be on Broad Street. What--”

“You have not heard from him for some time?”

“Not for eighteen years. He and I didn’t agree as well as we might.
Maybe ‘twas my fault, maybe ‘twas his. I have my own ideas on that. If
you’re lookin’ for ‘Bije Warren’s brother, Mr. Graves, I guess you’ve
come to the right place. But _what_ he sent you to me for, or what
he wants--for he wants somethin’, or he wouldn’t have sent--I don’t
understand.”

“Why do you think he wanted something?”

“Because he’s ‘Bije Warren, and I was brought up with him. When we was
young ones together, he went to school and I went to work. He got the
frostin’ on the cake, and I got the burnt part next to the pan. He went
to college, and I went to sea. He.... However, you mustn’t think I find
fault with him for that. I sp’iled him as much as anybody, I guess.
‘Twas later on that we.... Well, never mind that, either. What is it he
wants of me, after eighteen years?”

“He wants a good deal of you, Captain Warren. Or _did_ want it.”

“Did? Don’t he want it now?”

“I don’t know. Captain, I’m surprised that you haven’t heard. It seems
that I am the bearer of bad news. Your brother--”

“Is ‘Bije _dead_?”

“He died ten days ago very suddenly. In a way it was a great shock to us
all, yet we have known that his heart was weak. He realized it, too.”

“So ‘Bije is dead, hey?” Captain Elisha’s face was very grave, and he
spoke slowly. “Dead! Well, well, well!”

He paused and looked into the fire. Graves saw again that vague
resemblance he had caught on the train, but had forgotten. He knew now
why he noticed it. Unlike as the two brothers were, unlike in almost
every way, the trace of family likeness was there. This sunburned,
retired captain _was_ the New York financier’s elder brother. And this
certainty made Mr. Graves’s errand more difficult, and the cause of it
more inexplicable.

Captain Elisha cleared his throat.

“Well, well!” he sighed. “So ‘Bije has gone. I s’pose you think it’s
odd, maybe,” he went on, “that I ain’t more struck down by the news. In
a way, I am, and, in a way, I’m mighty sorry, too. But, to speak truth,
he and I have been so apart, and have had nothin’ to do with each other
for so long that--that, well, I’ve come to feel as if I didn’t have a
brother. And I know he felt that way. Yes, and _wanted_ to feel so--I
know that.”

“I wouldn’t say that, if I were you,” observed the lawyer, gently. “I
think you’re mistaken there.”

“I ain’t mistaken. Why, look here, Mr. Graves! There was a time when
I’d have got down on my knees and crawled from here to New York to help
‘Bije Warren. I lent him money to start in business. Later on him and I
went into partnership together on a--a fool South American speculation
that didn’t pan out for nothin’. I didn’t care for that. I took my
chance same as he did, we formed a stock company all amongst ourselves,
and I’ve got my share of the stock somewhere yet. It may come in handy
if I ever want to paper the barn. But ‘twa’n’t business deals of that
kind that parted us, ‘twas another matter. Somethin’ that he did to
other folks who’d trusted us and.... Humph! this don’t interest you, of
course.... Well, ‘Bije was well off, I know. His wife died way back
in the nineties. She was one of them fashionable women, and a hayseed
salt-herrin’ of a bachelor brother-in-law stuck down here in the
sandheaps didn’t interest her much--except as somethin’ to forget, I
s’pose. I used to see her name in the Boston papers occasionally, givin’
parties at Newport and one thing a’nother. I never envied ‘em that kind
of life. I’m as well fixed as I want to be. Got some money put by for
a rainy spell, comf’table house and land, best town on earth to live in
and work for; I’m satisfied and always have been. I wouldn’t change for
nothin’. But I’m nine year older than ‘Bije was--and yet I’m left alive.
Hum!”

“Your brother had two children by his marriage,” said Graves, after a
moment of silence.

“Hey? Two children? Why, yes, I remember he did. Boy and girl, wa’n’t
they? I never saw em. They’ve growed up by this time, of course.”

“Yes, the eldest, Caroline, is nearly twenty. The boy, Stephen, is a
year younger. It is concerning those children, Captain Warren, that I
have come to you.”

Captain Elisha turned in his chair. “Hey?” he queried. “The children?
You’ve come to me about ‘Bije’s children?”

Graves nodded. “Yes,” he answered, solemnly. “That is what I meant by
saying your brother had not forgotten you or wished to forget you. In
spite of the estrangement, it is evident that his confidence in your
judgment and integrity was supreme. His children were his idols, Captain
Warren, and he has left them in your charge.”

The captain’s pipe fell to the hearth.

“_What_?” he shouted. “Left his children to--to _me_! Mr. Graves,
you’re--you’re out of your head--or I am!”

“No, I’m perfectly sane. I have a copy of the will here, and--”

He was interrupted by Miss Baker, who appeared at the door of the dining
room. “Did you want me, ‘Lisha?” she asked.

Her employer stared at her in a dazed, uncomprehending way.

“Want you?” he repeated. “Want you?”

“Yes; I heard you holler, and I thought p’raps you was callin’ me.”

“Hey? No, I don’t want you, Abbie.... Holler! I shouldn’t wonder! If
all I did was holler, I’m surprised at myself. No, no! Run along out and
shut the door. Yes, shut it.... Now, Mr. Graves, say that over again and
say it slow.”

“I say that your brother has left his two children in your care until
the youngest shall become of age--twenty-one. I have a copy of his will
here, and--”

“Wait, wait! let me think. Left his children to me!... to _me_. Mr.
Graves, had ‘Bije lost all his money?”

“No. He was not the millionaire that many thought him. Miss Warren and
her brother will be obliged to economize somewhat in their manner
of living. But, with care _and_ economy, their income should be quite
sufficient, without touching the principal, to--”

“Hold on again; the income, you say. What is that income?”

“Roughly speaking, a mere estimate, about twenty to twenty-five thousand
yearly.”

Captain Elisha had stooped to pick up the pipe he had dropped. His
fingers touched it, but they did not close. Instead he straightened up
in his chair as if suffering from an electric shock.

“Mr. Graves,” he began; “Mr. Graves, are you cra--. No, I asked you that
before. But--but twenty _thousand_ a--a year! For mercy sakes, what’s
the principal?”

“In the neighborhood of five hundred thousand, I believe. Of course, we
had no authority to investigate thoroughly. That will be a part of your
duties, but--”

“S-shh! Let me soak this into my brains a little at a time. ‘Bije leaves
his children five hundred thousand, half a million, and--and they’ve got
to _economize_! And I’m.... Would you mind readin’ me that will?”

The attorney drew a long envelope from his pocket, extracted therefrom a
folded document, donned a pair of gold-mounted eyeglasses, and began to
read aloud.

The will was short and very concise. “‘I, Abijah Rodgers Warren, being
of sound mind--’”

“You’re sartin that part’s true, are you?” broke in the captain.

Graves nodded, rather impatiently, and continued. “‘Of sound mind,
memory and understanding, do make, publish and declare this to be my
last will and testament, in manner following, that is to say:--

“‘First:--I direct my executor hereinafter named to pay my just debts
and funeral expenses as soon as maybe convenient after my decease.’”

“Did he owe much, think likely?” asked Captain Elisha.

“Apparently not. Very little beyond the usual bills of a household.”

“Yes, yes. Grocer and butcher and baker and suchlike. Well, I guess they
won’t have to put in a keeper. Heave ahead.”

“‘Second:--I give, devise and bequeath all my estate, both real and
personal, to my brother, Elisha Warren, if he survive--’”

The captain gasped. “To me?” he cried, in utter amazement. “He leaves
it to _me_? ‘Bije leaves--say, Mr. Graves, there’s some mistake here
somewhere, sure! And besides, you said--”

“Just a minute, Captain Warren, if you please. If you’ll be patient and
not interrupt, I’ll try to make the whole matter plain.”

“Well, if you can do _that_, you’ll have King Solomon and all his wisdom
beat a mile, that’s all I’ve got to say. Go on.”

“‘To my brother, Elisha Warren, if he survive me, _in trust_,
nevertheless, for the following purpose, to wit:--

“‘To invest the same and to use the income thereof for the education and
maintenance of my two children, Caroline Edgecombe Warren--’”

“Edgecombe? Named for some of his wife’s folks, I presume likely. Excuse
me for puttin’ my oar in again. Go on.”

“‘And Stephen Cole Warren--’”

“_That’s_ his wife, sartin. She was a Cole. I swan, I beg your pardon.”

“‘Until the elder, Caroline Edgecombe Warren, shall have reached her
twenty-first birthday, when one-half of the principal of said estate,
together with one-half of the accumulated interest, shall be given to
her, and the trust continued for the education and maintenance of my
son, Stephen Cole Warren, until he shall have reached his twenty-first
birthday, when I direct that the remainder be given to him.

“‘Third:--I appoint as testamentary guardian of my said children my said
brother, Elisha Warren.

“‘Fourth:--I appoint as sole executor of this, my last will and
testament, my said brother, Elisha Warren.

“‘Fifth:--Imposing implicit trust and confidence in Elisha Warren,
my brother, I direct that he be not required to give bond for the
performance of any of the affairs or trusts to which he has been herein
appointed.’

“The remainder,” concluded Graves, refolding the will, “is purely
formal. It is dated May 15th, three years ago. Your brother, Captain
Warren, evidently realized, although no one else seems to have done
so, the precarious state of his health, and prepared, as every careful
person should, for the great emergency.”

The attorney removed his eyeglasses and rubbed them with his
handkerchief. Captain Elisha sat silent, staring at the fire. After an
interval, Graves spoke again.

“Of course, Captain,” he went on, “my errand is now plain. I come to
acquaint you with your brother’s last wishes and to ascertain whether or
not you are willing to accept the trust and responsibility he has laid
upon you. As you doubtless know, the state provides a legal rate of
reimbursement for such services as yours will--or may--be. Ahem!”

“May be? You mean I ain’t got to do this thing unless I want to?”

“Certainly. You have the right to renounce the various appointments, in
which case another executor, trustee, and guardian will be appointed.
I realize, and I’m sure that your brother’s children will realize, your
hesitance in assuming such a responsibility over persons whom you have
never even met.”

“Yes, I guess we’ll all realize it; you needn’t worry about that. Look
here, do the children know I’m elected?”

“Yes. Of course, the will has been read to them.”

“Hum! I s’pose likely they was overcome with joy, wa’n’t they?”

Graves bit his lip. Remembering the comments of Miss Caroline and
her brother when they learned of their uncle’s appointment, he had
difficulty in repressing a smile.

“Well,” he replied, slowly, “of course, one could scarcely expect them
to rejoice. They have never seen you. In fact, I doubt if either of them
knew their father had a brother, living.”

“Y-e-e-s. That part don’t surprise me. But the rest of it does. By the
miracles of the prophets! the rest of it does! That ‘Bije--‘Bije--should
leave his children and their money to _me_ to take care of is passin’
human belief, as our old minister used to say--.... Humph! I s’pose
likely, Mr. Graves, you’d like to have me say yes or no to the thing
while you’re here, hey?”

Graves nodded. “It would be well to do so,” he said. “The settlement
of the estate must be taken in hand as soon as possible. The law so
directs.”

“Yes, I see that. Well, what would you advise my doin’?”

To this direct question the lawyer returned a noncommittal answer.

“I’m afraid that must be answered by yourself alone, Captain Warren,” he
said. “Of course, the acceptance of the trust will necessarily involve
much trouble and inconvenience, especially to one of your--er--settled
and--er--conservative--I judge merely from what you have said--your
conservative habits. The estate is large, the investments are,
doubtless, many and varied, and the labor of looking into and
investigating them may require some technical skill and knowledge of
finance. Yes.”

“Um-hm.... Well, I judge that that kind of skill and knowledge could be
hired, if a feller felt like payin’ fair wages; hey?”

“Oh, yes, yes. Any good lawyer could attend to that, under the
supervision of the executor, certainly. But there are other
inconveniences to a--a--”

“Country jay like me. I understand. Go ahead.”

“I mean that you would probably be required to spend much, or all, of
the next two or three years in New York.”

“Would, hey? I didn’t know but bein’ as a guardian has entire charge of
the children and their money and all--I understand that’s what he does
have--he could direct the children fetched down to where _he_ lived, if
he wanted to. Am I wrong?”

“No,” the lawyer’s hesitancy and annoyance was plainly evident. “No-o.
Of course, that _might_ be done. Still, I--”

“You think that wouldn’t cause no more rejoicin’ than some other things
have? Yes, yes; I cal’late I understand, Mr. Graves. Well, I guess
you’ll have to give me to-night to chew over this. I guess you will.
It’s come on me so sudden, ‘Bije’s death and all, that I want to be by
myself and think. I don’t want to seem unsociable or lackin’ in
hospitality. The whole house is yours. Help yourself to it. But when I’m
caught in a clove hitch, I just have to set down and think myself out of
it. I _have_ to. I was built and launched that way, I guess, and maybe
you’ll excuse me.”

“Certainly, Captain Warren. You’re quite right in wishing to deliberate
on so important a matter. And, if you will excuse me in return, I
believe I will go to my room. I’ve had a rather wearing day.”

“And a damp evenin’. Yes, I’ll excuse and sympathize with you, too. I’ll
see you to your room, and I’ll hope you’ll have consider’ble more sleep
than I’m likely to get. Abbie!... Abbie!... Fetch Mr. Graves’s lamp,
won’t you, please?”

It was after two the next morning before Captain Elisha rose from his
chair by the fire and entered his bed chamber. Yet, when Atwood Graves
came down to breakfast, he found his host in the sitting room awaiting
him.

“Afore we tackle Abbie’s pancakes and fishballs, Mr. Graves,” said the
captain, “let’s get the rest of that will business off our minds. Then
we can have the pancakes to take the taste out of our mouths, as you
might say. And let me ask you one more question. This--er--er--Caroline
and Stephen, they’re used to livin’ pretty well--fashionable society,
and the like of that, hey?”

“Yes. Their home was on Fifth Avenue, and the family moved in the best
circles.”

“Hum! I should imagine life on twenty-odd thousand a year must be
pretty much all circles, one everlastin’ ‘turn your partners.’ Well, Mr.
Graves, my circles down here are consider’ble smaller, but they suit me.
I’m worth twenty-odd thousand myself, not in a year, but in a lifetime.
I’m selectman and director in the bank and trustee of the church. When I
holler ‘Boo,’ the South Denboro folks--some of them, anyhow--set up and
take notice. I can lead the grand march down in this neighborhood once
in a while, and I cal’late I’m prettier leadin’ it than I would be doin’
a solitaire jig for two years on the outside edge of New York’s best
circles. And I’m mighty sure I’m more welcome. Now my eyesight’s strong
enough to see through a two-foot hole after the plug’s out, and I can
see that you and ‘Bije’s children won’t shed tears if I say no to that
will. No offense meant, you know; just common sense, that’s all.”

This was plain speaking. Mr. Graves colored, though he didn’t mean to,
and for once could not answer offhand.

“So,” continued the captain, “I’ll ease your and their minds by sayin’
that, the way I feel now, I probably sha’n’t accept the trust. I
_probably_ sha’n’t. But I won’t say sure I won’t, because--well, because
‘Bije was my brother; he was that, no matter what our diff’rences may
have been. And I know--I _know_ that there must be some reason bigger
than ‘implicit trust’ and the other May-baskets for his appointin’ me in
his will. What that reason is I _don’t_ know--yet.”

“Then you intend--?”

“I don’t know what I intend--in the end. But for a beginnin’, I cal’late
to run down to New York some time durin’ the next week, take a cruise
‘round, and sort of look things over.”




CHAPTER III


“It’s a box of a place, though, isn’t it,” declared Mr. Stephen Warren,
contemptuously glancing about the library of the apartment. “A box, by
George! I think it’s a blooming shame that we have to put up with it,
Sis.”

Mr. Warren sprawled in the most comfortable chair in the room, was
looking out through the window, across the wind-swept width of Central
Park West, over the knolls and valleys of the Park itself, now bare of
foliage and sprinkled with patches of snow. There was a discontented
look on his face, and his hands were jammed deep in his trousers
pockets.

His sister, Caroline, sat opposite to him, also looking out at the
December landscape. She, too, was discontented and unhappy, though she
tried not to show it.

“Why don’t you say something,” snapped Stephen, after a moment of
silence. “_Isn’t_ it a box of a place? Now come.”

“Yes,” replied the young lady, without looking at her brother. “Yes,
Steve, I suppose it is. But you must remember that we must make the
best of it. I always wondered how people could live in apartments. Now I
suppose I shall have to find out.”

“Well, I maintain that we don’t have to. We aren’t paupers, even though
father wasn’t so well fixed as everyone thought. With management and
care, we could have stayed in the old house, I believe, and kept up
appearances, at least. What’s the use of advertising that we’re broke?”

“But, Steve, you know Mr. Graves said--”

“Oh, yes, I know. You swallowed every word Graves said, Caro, as if
he was the whole book of Proverbs. By George, _I_ don’t; I’m from
Missouri.”

Mr. Warren, being in the Sophomore class at Yale, was of the age when
one is constitutionally “from Missouri.” Probably King Solomon, at
sixty, had doubts concerning the scope and depth of his wisdom; at
eighteen he would have admitted its all-embracing infallibility without
a blush.

“I tell you,” continued Stephen, “there’s no sense in it, Sis. You and I
know plenty of people whose incomes are no larger than ours. Do they
‘economize,’ as Graves is continually preaching? They do not, publicly
at least. They may save a bit, here and there, but they do it where it
doesn’t show and nobody knows. Take the Blaisdells, for instance. When
the Sodality Bank went up, and old Blaisdell died, everybody said the
family was down and out. They must have lost millions. But did _they_
move into ‘apartments’ and put up a placard, ‘Home of the Dead-Brokes.
Walk in and Sympathize?’ I guess they didn’t! They went into mourning,
of course, and that let them out of entertaining and all that, but they
stayed where they were and kept up the bluff. That’s the thing that
counts in this world--keeping up the bluff.”

“Yes, but everyone knows they are--bluffing, as you call it.”

“What of it? They don’t really know, they only suspect. And I met Jim
Blaisdell yesterday and he shook my hand, after I had held it in front
of his eyes where he couldn’t help seeing it, and had the nerve to tell
me he hoped things weren’t as bad with us as he had heard.”

“I never liked the Blaisdells,” declared Caroline, indignantly.

“Neither did I. Neither do most people. But Jim is just as much in the
swim as he ever was, and he’s got his governor’s place on the board of
directors at the bank, now that it’s reorganized, and an office down
town, and he’s hand and glove with Von Blarcom and all the rest.
They think he’s a promising, plucky young man. They’ll help his bluff
through. And are his mother and sister dropped by the people in their
set? I haven’t noticed it.”

“Well, Mrs. Corcoran Dunn told me that everyone was talking about
the Blaisdells and wondering how long they could keep it up. And the
newspapers have been printing all sorts of things, and hinting that
young Mr. Blaisdell’s appointment as director, after his father wrecked
the bank, was a scandal. At least, we haven’t _that_ to bear up under.
Father was honest, if he wasn’t rich.”

“Who cares for the newspapers? They’re all run by demagogues hunting
sensations. What makes me feel the worst about all this is that Stock
Exchange seat of father’s. If I were only of age, so that I could go
down there on the floor, I tell you it wouldn’t be long before you and I
were back where we belong, Sis. But, no, I’m a kid, so Graves thinks, in
charge of a guardian--a _guardian_, by gad!”

He snorted, in manly indignation. Caroline, her pretty face troubled,
rose and walked slowly across the room. It was a large room, in spite of
the fact that it was one of a suite in an apartment hotel, and furnished
richly. A. Rodgers Warren spent his money with taste, and spent it
freely while he lived. The furniture, the paintings, and bric-a-brac
were of the very best, chosen with care, here and abroad.

“Oh, dear!” sighed the girl. “I do hope Mr. Graves will be well enough
to call to-day. He expected to. Except for the telephone message telling
us that that _man_ at Denboro--”

“Our dear Uncle Elisha,” put in Stephen, with sarcasm. “Uncle ‘’Lish!’
Heavens! what a name!”

“Hush! He can’t help his name. And father’s was worse yet--Abijah! Think
of it!”

“I don’t want to think of it. Neither did the governor; that’s why
he dropped it, I suppose. Just what did Graves say? Give me his exact
words.”

“His partner, Mr. Kuhn, telephoned. He said that Mr. Graves had a bad
cold, having been wet through in a dreadful storm down there in the
country. The doctor forbade his leaving the house for a day or two, but
he would call on Tuesday--to-day--if he was sufficiently recovered. And
Mr. Kuhn said that everything was satisfactory. This Captain Warren--a
ship captain, I suppose he is--would, in all probability, refuse to
accept the guardianship and the rest of it--”

“Refuse? I should think so. I’m just as certain father was insane when
he made that will as I am that I’m alive. If I thought he wasn’t, I’d
never forgive him.”

“Hush, Steve. You promised me you wouldn’t speak in that way.”

“Well, all right, I won’t. But, Caro, he _must_ have been insane. If he
wasn’t, do you suppose he would have put us and the estate in the care
of a Down-East jay? It’s inconceivable! It’s ridiculous! Think of it.
Suppose this uncle of ours had accepted. Suppose he had come to town
here and any of our friends had met him. ‘This is our guardian, Captain
Warren, of Punkin Centre.’ ‘Please to meet ye,’ says Uncle ‘Lish. ‘How’s
taters?’ Horrors! Say, Caro, you haven’t told anyone, Malcolm or his
mother, or anyone, have you?”

“Of course not, Steve. You know I wouldn’t.”

“Well, don’t. They needn’t know it, now or at any other time. Graves
will probably get himself appointed, and he’s respectable if he is an
old fogy. We’ll worry along till I’m twenty-one, and then--well, then
I’ll handle our business myself.”

Evidently there was no question in his mind as to his ability to handle
this or any business, no matter how involved. He rose from his chair and
yawned.

“It’s deadly dull,” he complained. “You don’t need me, do you, Caro? I
believe I’ll go out for a while. That is, unless you really care.”

His sister hesitated before replying. When she spoke, there was
disappointment in her tone.

“Why, Steve,” she said, “I did hope you might be here when Mr. Graves
came. He will wish to speak of important matters, and it seems to me
that both of us should hear what he has to say.”

Young Warren, who had started for the door, stopped and kicked
impatiently at the corners of the rug.

“Oh, _well_!” he observed, “if you want me of course I’ll stay. But why
doesn’t old Graves come, if he is coming. Maybe he’s under the weather
yet,” he added, hopefully. “Perhaps he isn’t coming at all to-day. I
believe I’ll call up Kuhn on the ‘phone and find out.”

He was on his way to the telephone when the doorbell buzzed.

“Gad! there he is now,” he exclaimed. “Now I suppose I’ll have to stay.
We’ll hear about dear Uncle ‘Lish, won’t we? Oh, joy!”

But the staid butler, when he entered the library, did not announce the
lawyer’s name.

“Mrs. Corcoran Dunn and Mr. Malcolm,” he said. “Will you see them, Miss
Caroline?”

The young lady’s face lit up.

“Certainly, Edwards,” she said. “Show them--Oh, Mrs. Dunn, I’m so glad
to see you! It was _ever_ so good of you to come. And Malcolm.”

Mrs. M. Corcoran Dunn was tall and, in South Denboro, would have been
called “fleshy,” in spite of her own and the dressmaker’s efforts to
conceal the fact. She was elaborately gowned and furred, and something
about her creaked when she walked. She rushed into the room, at the
butler’s heels, and, greeting Caroline with outstretched hands, kissed
her effusively on the cheek.

“My dear child,” she cried, “how could I stay away? We have spoken of
you and Stephen _so_ often this morning. We know how lonely you must be,
and Malcolm and I decided we _must_ run in on you after lunch. Didn’t
we, Malcolm?”

Mr. Malcolm Corcoran Dunn, her son, was a blond young man, with a rather
indolent manner.

“Sure, Mater!” he said, calmly. “How d’ye do, Caroline? ‘Lo, Steve!”

The quartette shook hands. Mrs. Dunn sank creakingly into a chair and
gazed about the room. Malcolm strolled to the window and looked out.
Stephen followed and stood beside him.

“My dear,” said Mrs. Dunn, addressing Caroline, “how are you getting on?
How are your nerves? Is all the dreadful ‘settling’ over?”

“Very nearly, thank goodness.”

“That’s a mercy. I should certainly have been here yesterday to help you
in superintending and arranging and so on, but I was suffering from one
of my ‘hearts,’ and you know what _they_ are.”

Everyone who knew Mrs. Corcoran Dunn was acquainted with her “hearts.”
 The attacks came, so she was accustomed to explain, from an impaired
valve, and “some day”--she usually completed the sentence with upturned
eyes and a resigned upward wave of the hand.

Her son turned from the window.

“I say, Mother,” he explained, wearily, “I do wish you wouldn’t speak of
your vital organs in the plural. Anyone would imagine you were a sort
of freak, like the two-headed boy at the circus. It’s positively
distressing.”

Stephen laughed. He admired young Dunn immensely. Mrs. Dunn sighed.

“Don’t, Malcolm, dear,” she pleaded. “You sound so unfeeling. One not
acquainted with your real kindness of heart--”

“Oh, drop it,” interrupted Malcolm. “Let’s omit the heart interest.
This isn’t a clinic. I say, Steve, how do you like the new flat? It is a
flat, isn’t it?”

Stephen turned red. His sister colored and bit her lip. Mrs. Dunn
hastened to the rescue.

“Horrors!” she exclaimed. “Malcolm, you really are insufferable. Flat!
Caroline, dear, you mustn’t mind him. He will have his joke. Malcolm,
apologize.”

The command was sharp, and her son obeyed it.

“Beg your pardon, Steve,” he said. “Yours, too, Caroline. I was only
joking. There’s a little beast of a bookkeeper down at the office who
is forever talking of his ‘nice flat in the Bronx.’ It’s a standing
guy, you know. So far as I can see, these are pretty snug quarters. And
attractively arranged, too. Your taste, Caroline, I’m betting.”

Miss Warren, slightly mollified, bowed assent.

“I thought so,” continued Malcolm. “No one but you would have known
exactly the right spot for everything. Show us through, won’t you?”

But Mrs. Dunn had other plans.

“Not now, Malcolm,” she put in. “Caroline is tired out, I’m sure. A
little fresh air will do her good. I was going to suggest that you and
she and Stephen go for a short ride. Yes, really you must, my dear,” she
added, turning to the girl beside her. “Our car is at the door, it’s not
at all a bad afternoon, and the outing will be just what you need.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Dunn,” said Caroline, gratefully. “I should like to.
Indeed, I should. But we have been expecting a business call from Mr.
Graves, father’s lawyer, and--”

“Oh, come on, Sis!” interrupted Stephen. “I’m dying to get out of this
jail. Let old Graves wait, if he comes. We won’t be long; and, besides,
it’s not certain that he is coming to-day. Come on!”

“I’m afraid I ought not, Steve. Mr. Graves may come, and--and it seems
too bad to trouble our friends--”

“It’s not trouble, it’s pleasure,” urged Mrs. Dunn. “Malcolm will be
delighted. It was his idea. Wasn’t it?” turning to her son.

“Oh, yes! certainly,” replied the young gentleman. “Hope you’ll come,
Caroline. And you, of course, Steve. The blessed machine’s been off its
feed for a week or more, but Peter says he thinks it’s all right again.
We’ll give it a try-out on the Drive. Hope we have better luck than my
last,” with a laugh. “They nabbed us for speeding, and I had to promise
to be a good boy or to be fined. Said we were hitting it at fifty an
hour. We _were_ going some, that’s a fact. Ha! ha!”

“But he won’t be reckless when you’re with him, Caroline,” put in his
mother. “You will go? That’s so nice! As for Mr. Graves, I’ll explain
if he comes. Oh, no! _I’m_ not going! I shall remain here in this
comfortable chair and rest until you return. It’s exactly what my
physician orders, and for once I’m going to obey him. My heart, you
know, my poor heart--”

She waved her hand and raised her eyes. Miss Warren expostulated, but to
no purpose. Mrs. Corcoran Dunn would _not_ go, but the others must. So,
at last, they did. When Caroline and her brother had gone for their
wraps, Mrs. Dunn laid a hand on her son’s arm.

“Now mind,” she whispered, “see if you can find out anything during the
ride. Something more explicit about the size of their estate and who the
guardian is to be. There are all sorts of stories, you know, and we
_must_ learn the truth very soon. Don’t appear curious, but merely
friendly. You understand?”

“Sure, Mater,” was the careless answer. “I’ll pump.”

The two departed, leaving their lady visitor ensconced in the
comfortable chair. She remained in it for perhaps five minutes. Then she
rose and sauntered about the room. She drifted into the drawing-room,
returning a moment later and sauntering casually toward the open desk by
the fireplace. There were papers and letters scattered about this desk,
and these she turned over, glancing toward the door to be sure no one
was coming. The letters were, for the most part, messages of sympathy
from friends of the Warren family. Hearing an approaching step, she
hastily returned to the chair.

Edwards, the butler, entered the library and replenished the fire. Mrs.
Dunn languidly accosted him.

“Ah--er--Edwards,” she said, “you are--er--growing familiar with your
new home?”

“Yes, ma’am,” replied Edwards, politely.

“It must seem--er--small compared to the other.”

“Smaller; yes, ma’am.”

“But very snug and comfortable.”

“Yes, ma ‘am.”

“It is fortunate that Miss Warren and her brother have the aid of such
a--an old servant of the family.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“Is Miss Caroline managing her own affairs?”

“Apparently so. Yes, ma’am.”

“I presume, however, a guardian has been appointed? With an estate such
as the late Mr. Warren _must_ have left, some responsible person would
be, of course, necessary.”

She paused. Edwards, having arranged the logs to his liking, brushed the
dust from his hands.

“I don’t know, ma’am, I’m sure,” he said. “Neither Miss Caroline nor Mr.
Stephen have spoken with me concerning the family affairs.”

Mrs. Corcoran Dunn straightened, with hauteur.

“I think that was the doorbell,” she remarked, a trifle sharply. “If it
should be Mr. Graves, the attorney, you may show him into the library
here.”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Edwards once more, and departed.

The lady visitor heard voices in the passage. She listened, but could
hear nothing understandable. Evidently the butler was having an argument
with someone. It could not be Graves.

Edwards reappeared, looking troubled.

“It’s a--a gentleman to see Miss Caroline,” he said. “He won’t give his
name, ma’am, but says she’s expecting him.”

“Expecting him?”

“Yes, ma’am. I told him she was out, but he said he was intending
to stay a while anyway, and would wait. I asked his business, but he
wouldn’t tell it.”

“That’s odd.” Mrs. Dunn was slightly interested. “A tradesman, perhaps;
or an agent of the landlord.”

“No-o, ma’am. I don’t think he’s either of them, ma’am.”

“What sort of a person is he, Edwards?”

The butler’s face twitched for an instant with a troubled smile. Then it
resumed its customary respectful calm.

“I hardly know, ma’am. He’s an oddish man. He--I think he’s from the
country.”

From behind him came a quiet chuckle.

“You’re right, Commodore,” said a man’s voice; “I’m from the country.
You guessed it.”

Edwards jumped, startled out of his respectable wits. Mrs. Dunn rose
indignantly from her chair.

“I beg your pardon, ma’am,” said the intruder, appearing in the doorway.
“You mustn’t think I’m forcin’ my way where I ain’t wanted. But it
seemed to take so long to make the Admiral here understand that I was
goin’ to wait until Caroline came back that I thought I’d save time and
breath by provin’ it to him. I didn’t know there was any company. Excuse
me, ma’am, I won’t bother you. I’ll just come to anchor out here in the
entry. Don’t mind me.”

He bowed politely, picked up the large suit-case, plainly bran-new,
which he had momentarily placed on the rug at his feet, and, with it
in one hand and a big soft felt hat in the other, stepped back into the
hall out of sight. The astonished Mrs. Dunn and the paralyzed Edwards
heard a chair crack as if a heavy weight had descended upon it.
Evidently he had “come to anchor.”

The lady was the first to recover the power of speech.

“Why!” she exclaimed, in an alarmed whisper. “Why! I never heard of
such brazen impertinence in my life. He must be insane. He is a lunatic,
isn’t he, Edwards?”

The butler shook his head. “I--I don’t know, ma’am,” he stammered.

“I believe he is.” Mrs. Dunn’s presence of mind was returning, and with
it her courage. Her florid cheeks flamed a more vivid red, and her eyes
snapped. “But whether he is or not, he sha’n’t bulldoze me.”

She strode majestically to the door. The visitor was seated in the hall,
calmly reading a newspaper. Hat and suit-case were on the floor beside
him.

“What do you mean by this?” demanded the lady. “Who are you? If you have
any business here, state it at once.”

The man glanced at her, over his spectacles, rose and stood looking down
at her. His expression was pleasant, and he was remarkably cool.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, gravely. “I’ll be glad to tell you who I am,
if you’d like to have me. I’d have done it before, but I thought there
weren’t any use troublin’ you with my affairs. But, just a minute--”
 he hesitated--“I haven’t made any mistake, have I? I understood your
steward--the feller with the brass buttons, to say that Abijah Warren’s
children lived here. That’s so, ain’t it? If not, then I _am_ mistaken.”

Mrs. Dunn regarded him with indignation. “You are,” she said coldly.
“The family of the late Mr. Rodgers Warren lives here. I presume the
slight resemblance in names misled you. Edwards, show the gentleman
out.”

“Just one moment more, ma’am. It was Rodgers Warren’s children I was
lookin’ for. A. Rodgers Warren he called himself, didn’t he? Yes. Well,
the A stood for Abijah; that was his Christian name. And he left
two children, Caroline and Stephen? Good! I thought for a jiffy I’d
blundered in where I had no business, but it’s all right. You see,
ma’am, I’m their uncle from South Denboro, Massachusetts. My name is
Elisha Warren.”

Mrs. Dunn gasped. Edwards, peering over her shoulder, breathed heavily.

“You are--their _uncle_?” repeated the lady.

“Yes, ma’am. I’m ‘Bije’s brother. Oh, don’t worry. It’s all right. And
don’t fret yourself about me, either. I’ll set right down out here
and read my paper and wait till Caroline or Stephen get home. They’re
expectin’ me. Mr. Graves, the lawyer, told ‘em I was comin’.”

He calmly seated himself and adjusted his spectacles. Mrs. Dunn stared
at him, then at Edwards. After an instant’s indecision, she stepped
back into the library and walked to the window. She beckoned, with an
agitated finger, to the butler, who joined her.

“Edwards,” she whispered, “did you hear what he said?”

“Yes, ma’am,” replied Edwards, wide-eyed and wondering.

“Is it true?”

“I don’t know, ma’am.”

“Did Mr. Warren have a brother?”

“I didn’t know that he had, ma’am.”

“Do you--do you think it likely that he would have a brother like--like
_that_?”

“I don’t know, ma’am.”

“Was Miss Caroline expecting him?”

“I don’t know, ma’am. She--”

“Oh, you don’t know anything! You’re impossible. Go away!”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Edwards thankfully; and went. Mrs. Corcoran Dunn
stood for some minutes by the window, thinking, or trying to think a way
to the truth in this astounding development. Of course the man _might_
be a lunatic who had gained his information concerning the Warren family
from the papers; but he did not look like a lunatic. On the other hand,
he certainly did not look as one would have expected a brother of
Rodgers Warren’s to look. Oddest of all, if he was such a brother, why
had neither Caroline or Stephen mentioned his existence? According to
his story, Graves, the Warren lawyer, had warned the children of his
coming. Caroline had been very reticent concerning her father’s will,
the amount of his estate, and the like. And Mrs. Dunn had repeatedly,
though discreetly, endeavored to find out these important details.
Neither hints nor questions had resulted satisfactorily. Was it possible
that this was the reason, this country uncle? If so--well, if so, here
was a Heaven-sent opportunity for a little genteel and perfectly safe
detective work. Mrs. Dunn creakingly crossed the room and spoke.

“Mr. Warren,” she said, “I feel guilty in keeping you out there. Won’t
you come into the library?”

“Why, thank you, ma’am, I’m all right. Don’t you trouble about me. Go
right on with your readin’ or sewin’ or knittin’ or whatever you was
doin’ and--”

“I was not reading,” replied Mrs. Dunn, with a slight shudder. “Come in,
please. I wish you to.”

Captain Elisha folded his paper and put it in his pocket. Entering the
library, he stood quietly waiting.

“Won’t you sit down?” asked his impromptu hostess, trying hard to be
gracious.

“Thank you,” said the captain. He sank into an armchair and looked
curiously about him.

“So you are the late Mr. Warren’s brother?” asked the lady, making her
first lead in the game.

“Yes, ma’am. His older brother. ‘Bije was ten year younger’n I am,
Mrs.--er--”

“Dunn. I am an old friend of the family.”

“That’s good. I’m glad to hear they’ve got friends. When you’re in
sickness or trouble or sorrer, friendship counts for consider’ble. How
are the young folks--Caroline and Stephen--pretty smart, hey?”

“_Smart_? Why, they are intelligent, naturally. I--”

“No, no. I mean are they pretty well?”

“Very well, indeed, considering the shock of their recent bereavement.”

“Yes, yes. Of course. And they’ve moved, too. Movin’s an awful job. They
say three movin’s are as bad as a fire, but I cal’late I’d rather burn
up a set of carpets than _pull_ ‘em up, ‘specially if they was insured.
‘Tain’t half so much strain on your religion. I remember the last time
we took up our carpets at home, Abbie--she’s my second cousin, keepin’
house for me--said if gettin’ down on my knees has that effect on me
she’d never ask me to go to prayer-meetin’ again. Ho! ho!”

He chuckled. Mrs. Dunn elevated her nose and looked out of the window.
Then she led another small trump.

“You say that Miss Caroline and her brother expect you,” she said. “You
surprise me. Are you sure?”

“Oh, yes, ma’am. I’m sure. When Mr. Graves came down to see me, last
week ‘twas, I told him to say I’d be up pretty soon to look the ground
over. This is a pretty fine place the young folks have got here,” he
added, gazing admiringly at the paintings and bookcases.

“Yes,” assented the lady, condescendingly. “For an apartment it is
really quite livable.”

“Livable!” Captain Elisha’s astonishment got the better of his
politeness for the moment. “Um! Yes, I should say a body _might_ manage
to worry along in it. Was the place where they used to live any finer
than this?”

“Certainly!”

“You don’t tell me! No wonder they talked about economi--Humph!”

“What were you about to say, Mr. Warren?”

“Oh, nothin’, nothin’! Talkin’ to myself is a habit I’ve got. Abbie--my
second cousin; I guess I told you about her--says it’s a sure sign that
a person’s rich or out of his head, one or t’other. I ain’t rich, so--”
 He chuckled once more.

“Mr. Graves came to see you at your home, did he?”

“Yes, ma’am. At South Denboro. And he certainly did have a rough
passage. Ho! ho! Probably you heard about it, bein’ so friendly with the
family.”

“Ahem! Doubtless he would have mentioned it, but he has been ill.”

“Sho! I’m sorry to hear that. I was afraid he’d catch cold.”

“Yes. I hope Mr. Graves’s errand was successful?”

“Well, sort of so-so.”

“Yes. He came to see you in connection with your brother’s estate--some
legacy, perhaps?”

She did not look at the captain when she asked this question. Therefore,
she did not notice the glance which he gave her. When he answered, it
was in the same deliberate, provokingly deliberate, manner.

“Um-hm. Somethin’ of that kind, Mrs. Dunn. I can’t help thinkin’,” he
went on, “how nice it is that Caroline and Steve have such a good friend
as you to help ‘em. Your husband and ‘Bije was chums, I s’pose?”

“No, not exactly. The friendship was on my side of the family.”

“So? Want to know! Your husband dead, ma’am?”

Mrs. Dunn changed the subject. Her husband, Mr. Corcoran Dunn--once Mike
Dunn, contractor and Tammany politician--was buried in Calvary Cemetery.
She mourned him, after a fashion, but she preferred not to talk about
him.

“Yes,” she answered shortly. “It--it looks as if it might snow, doesn’t
it?”

“I shouldn’t wonder. Have you any children, ma’am?”

“One--a son.” The widow’s tone was frigid.

“So? He must be a comfort to you. I s’pose likely he’s a friend of my
nephew and niece, too.”

“Certainly.”

“That’s good. Young folks ought to have young friends. You live in this
neighborhood, ma’am?”

The lady did not answer. She gazed haughtily at the trees in the Park.
Captain Elisha rubbed a smile from his lips with his hand and remained
silent. The tall clock ticked loud.

There came the sound of laughter from the passage outside. The hall
door opened. A moment later, Caroline, followed by her brother and young
Dunn, entered the library.

The girl’s cheeks were rosy from the cold wind. Her hair, beneath the
fur auto cap, had blown in brown, rippled disorder across her forehead.
She was smiling.

“Oh, Mrs. Dunn!” she cried. “I’m so glad I accepted
your--Malcolm’s--invitation. We had a glorious ride! I--”

She stopped short. Captain Warren had risen from his chair and was
facing her. Mrs. Dunn also rose.

“Caroline,” she said, nervously, “this”--pausing on the word--“gentleman
is here to see you. He says he is--”

The captain interrupted her. Stepping forward he seized his niece’s
hands in his. “Well, well!” he exclaimed admiringly. “‘Bije’s girl, that
I ain’t seen since you was a little mite of a baby! Caroline, I’m your
Uncle Elisha.”

“Good _Lord_!” groaned Stephen Warren.




CHAPTER IV


If the captain heard Stephen’s fervent ejaculation, he paid no attention
to it. Dropping his niece’s hand, he extended his own toward his nephew.

“And this is Stephen?” he said. “Well, Steve, you and me have never met
afore, I b’lieve. But that’s our misfortune, not our fault, hey? How are
you? Pretty smart?”

The boy’s face was flaming. He mumbled something to the effect that he
was all right enough, and turned away without accepting the proffered
hand. Captain Elisha glanced quickly at him, then at his sister.

“Well, Caroline,” he said, pleasantly, “I s’pose you’ve been expectin’
me. Mr. Graves told you I was comin’, didn’t he?”

Miss Warren, also, was flushed with embarrassment and mortified
surprise.

“No,” she stammered. “He has been ill.”

“Sho! you don’t say! Mrs. Dunn--your friend here--said he was laid up
with a cold, but I didn’t realize ‘twas as bad as that. So you didn’t
know I was comin’ at all.”

“No. We--we have not heard from you since he returned.”

“That’s too bad. I hope I sha’n’t put you out any, droppin’ in on
you this way. You mustn’t treat me as comp’ny, you know. If ‘tain’t
convenient, if your spare room ain’t ready so soon after movin’, or
anything of that kind, I can go to a hotel somewheres for a day or so.
Hadn’t I better, don’t you think?”

Caroline hesitated. If only they might have been spared this public
humiliation. If the Dunns had not been there. It was bad enough to
have this dreadful country uncle come at all; but to have him come now,
before they were prepared, before any explanations had been made! What
should she do?

Her brother, fidgeting at her elbow, not daring to look at Malcolm
Dunn, who, he knew, was thoroughly enjoying the scene, could stand it no
longer.

“Caro,” he snapped, “what are you waiting for? Don’t you _know_ that the
rooms are not ready? Of course they’re not! We’re sorry, and all that,
but Graves didn’t tell us and we weren’t prepared. Certainly he’ll have
to go to the hotel, for--for the present.”

He ventured to raise his eyes and glare indignantly at the captain.
Finding the latter looking intently at him, he dropped them again and
jammed his clenched fists into his pockets.

Captain Elisha pulled thoughtfully at his beard.

“Humph!” he grunted. “Humph! then I cal’late maybe--” He took a step
toward the door, stopped, turned back, and said, with calm decision, “I
guess I’d better stay. You won’t mind me, Caroline--you and Stephen. You
_mustn’t_. As I said, I ain’t comp’ny. I’m one of the family, your pa’s
brother, and I’ve come some consider’ble ways to see you two young folks
and talk with you. I’ve come because your pa asked me to. I’m used to
roughin’ it, been to sea a good many v’yages, and if a feather bed ain’t
handy I can get my forty winks on the floor. So that’s settled, and you
mustn’t have me on your conscience. That’s sense, ain’t it, Mrs. Dunn?”

Mrs. Corcoran Dunn did not deign a reply. Caroline answered for her.

“Very well,” she said, coldly. Stepping to the desk she rang a bell. The
butler appeared in the doorway.

“Edwards,” said Miss Warren, “this gentleman,” indicating the captain,
“is to be our guest, for the present. You may show him to his room--the
blue room, I think. If it is not ready, see that it is made so.”

“Yes, Miss Caroline,” replied Edwards. Retiring to the hall, he returned
with the suit-case.

“Will you wish to go to your room at once, sir?” he asked.

“Why, I guess I might as well, Commodore,” answered Captain Elisha,
smiling. “Little soap and water won’t do no harm. Fact is, I feel’s if
‘twas a prescription to be recommended. You needn’t tote that valise,
though,” he added. “‘Tain’t heavy, and I’ve lugged it so fur already
sence I got off the car that I feel kind of lonesome without it.”

The butler, not knowing exactly how to answer, grinned sheepishly.
Captain Elisha turned to Mrs. Dunn and her son.

“Well, good afternoon, ma’am,” he said. “I’m real glad to have made your
acquaintance. Yours, too, sir,” with a nod toward Malcolm. “Your mother
told me what a friend of the young folks you was, and, as I’m sort
of actin’ pilot for ‘em just now, in a way of speakin’, any friend of
theirs ought to be a friend of mine. Hope to see you often, Mr. Dunn.”

The young man addressed smiled, with amusement not at all concealed, and
languidly admitted that he was “charmed.”

“Your first visit to the city?” he inquired, in a tone which caused
Stephen to writhe inwardly.

“No-o. No, not exactly. I used to come here pretty frequent, back in
my sea-goin’ days, when my ship was in port. I sailed for Osgood and
Colton, down on South Street, for a spell. They were my owners. You
don’t remember the firm, I s’pose?”

“No. The privilege has been denied me. You find some changes in
New York, don’t you--er--Captain? You are a captain, or a bos’n, or
admiral--something of that sort, I presume?”

“Malcolm!” said his mother, sharply.

“Oh, no offense intended. My sea terms are rather mixed. The captain
will excuse me.”

“Sartin! Cap’n’s what they all call me, mostly. Your son ain’t ever been
to sea, except as passenger, I cal’late, ma’am?”

“Certainly not,” snapped Mrs. Dunn.

“Of course, of course. Well, ‘tain’t a life I’d want a boy of mine
to take up, nowadays. But it did have some advantages. I don’t know
anything better than a v’yage afore the mast to learn a young feller
what’s healthy for him to unlearn. Good day, ma’am. Good day, Mr. Dunn.
I mustn’t keep the Commodore waitin’ here with that valise. I’ll be
out pretty soon, Caroline; just as soon as I’ve got the upper layer
of railroad dust off my face and hands. You’ll be surprised to see how
light-complected I really am when that’s over. All right! Heave ahead,
Commodore!”

He departed, preceded by Edwards and the suit-case. Stephen Warren threw
himself violently into a chair by the window. Young Dunn laughed aloud.
His mother flashed an indignant glance at him, and then hurried to
Caroline.

“You poor dear!” she exclaimed, putting an arm about the girl’s
shoulder. “Don’t mind us, please don’t! Malcolm and I understand. That
is, we know how you feel and--”

“Oh, but you _don’t_ know, Mrs. Dunn,” cried Caroline, almost in tears.
“You don’t understand! It’s so much worse than you think. I--I--Oh, why
did father do it? How could he be so inconsiderate?”

“There! there!” purred the friend of the family. “You mustn’t, you know.
You really mustn’t. Who is this man? This uncle? Where does he come
from? Why does he force himself upon you in this way? I didn’t know your
poor father had a brother.”

“Neither did we,” growled Stephen, savagely. Malcolm laughed again.

“What does it all mean, dear?” begged Mrs. Dunn. “You are in trouble,
I’m sure. Don’t you think we--Malcolm and I--might be able to help you?
We should so love to do it. If you feel that you _can_ confide in us;
if it isn’t a secret--”

She paused expectantly, patting the girl’s shoulder. But Caroline had
heard young Dunn’s laugh, and was offended and hurt. Her eyes flashed as
she answered.

“It’s nothing,” she said. “He has come to see us on a matter of
business, I believe. I am nervous and--foolish, I suppose. Mr. Graves
will see us soon, and then everything will be arranged. Thank you for
calling, Mrs. Dunn, and for the ride.”

It was a very plain hint, but Mrs. Dunn did not choose to understand it
as such.

“You’re sure you hadn’t better tell me the whole story, dear?” she
urged. “I am old enough, almost, to be your mother, and perhaps my
advice might.... No? Very well. You know best but--You understand that
it is something other than mere curiosity which leads me to ask.”

“Of course, I understand,” said the girl hastily. “Thank you very much.
Perhaps, by and by, I can tell you everything. But we must see Mr.
Graves first. I--oh, _don’t_ ask me more now, Mrs. Dunn.”

The widow of so astute a politician as Mike Dunn had been in his day
could have scarcely failed to profit by his teachings. Moreover, she
possessed talent of her own. With a final pat and a kiss, she prepared
for departure.

“Good-by, then,” she said, “or rather, _au revoir_. We shall look in
to-morrow. Come, Malcolm.”

“I say, Mal!” cried Stephen, rising hurriedly. “You won’t tell anyone
about--”

“Steve!” interrupted his sister.

Malcolm, about to utter a languid sarcasm, caught his mother’s look, and
remained silent. Another meaning glance, and his manner changed.

“All right, Steve, old man,” he said. “Good-by and good luck. Caroline,
awfully glad we had the spin this afternoon. We must have more. Just
what you and Steve need. At your service any time. If there is anything
I can do in any way to--er--you understand--call on me, won’t you?
Ready, Mater?”

The pair were shown out by Edwards. On the way home in the car Mrs.
Corcoran Dunn lectured her son severely.

“Have you no common sense?” she demanded. “Couldn’t you see that the
girl would have told me everything if you hadn’t laughed, like an
idiot?”

The young man laughed again.

“By Jove!” he exclaimed, “it was enough to make a wooden Indian laugh.
The old jay with the barnacles telling us about the advantages of a
sailor’s life. And Steve’s face! Ho! ho!”

His mother snorted disgust. “If you had brains,” she declared, “you
would have understood what he meant by saying that the sea was the place
to learn what to unlearn. He was hitting at you. Was it necessary to
insult him the first time you and he exchanged a word?”

“Insult him? _Him?_ Ha, ha! Why, Mater, what’s the matter with you? Do
you imagine that a hayseed like that would recognize an insult without
an introduction? And, besides, what difference does it make? You don’t
intend putting him on your calling list, do you?”

“I intend cultivating him for the present.”

“_Cultivating_ him?”

“Yes--for the present. He is Rodgers Warren’s brother. That lawyer,
Graves, traveled miles to see him. What does that mean? That, in some
important way, he is connected with the estate and those two children.
If the estate is worth anything, and we have reason to believe it is,
you and I must know it. If it isn’t, it is even more important that we
should know, before we waste more time. If Caroline is an heiress, if
she inherits even a moderate fortune--”

She shrugged her shoulders by way of finish to the sentence.

Malcolm whistled.

“But to think of that old Down-Easter being related to the Warren
family!” he mused. “It seems impossible.”

“Nothing is impossible,” observed his mother. Then, with a shudder, “You
never met your father’s relatives. I have.”

       *       *       *       *       *

When Captain Elisha emerged from his room, after a wash and a change
of linen, he found the library untenanted. He strolled about, his hands
behind him, inspecting the pictures with critical interest. Caroline,
dressed for dinner, found him thus engaged. He turned at the sound of
her step.

“Why, hello!” he cried, with hearty enthusiasm. “All rigged up for
inspection, ain’t you?”

“Inspection?”

“Oh, that’s just sailor’s lingo. Means you’ve got your Sunday uniform
on, that’s all. My! my! how nice you look! But ain’t black pretty old
for such a young girl?”

“I am in mourning,” replied his niece, coldly.

“There! there! of course you are. Tut! tut! How could I forget it. You
see, I’ve been so many years feelin’ as if I didn’t have a brother that
I’ve sort of got used to his bein’ gone.”

“I have not.” Her eyes filled as she said it. The captain was greatly
moved.

“I’m a blunderin’ old fool, my dear,” he said. “I beg your pardon. Do
try to forgive me, won’t you? And, perhaps--perhaps I can make up your
loss to you, just a little mite. I’d like to. I’ll try to, if--”

He laid a hand on her shoulder. She avoided him and, moving away, seated
herself in a chair at the opposite side of the desk. The avoidance was
so obvious as to be almost brutal. Captain Elisha looked very grave for
an instant. Then he changed the subject.

“I was lookin’ at your oil paintin’s,” he said. “They’re pretty fine,
ain’t they? Any of them your work, Caroline?”

“_My_ work?” The girl’s astonishment was so great that she turned to
stare at her questioner. “_My_ work?” she repeated. “Are you joking? You
can’t think that I painted them.”

“I didn’t know but you might. That one over there, with the trees and
folks dancin’--sort of picnic scene, I judge--that looks as if you might
have done it.”

“That is a Corot.”

“‘Tis, hey? I want to know! A--a--what did you call it?”

“A Corot. He was a famous French artist. That was father’s favorite
picture.”

“Sho! Well, I like it fust-rate myself. Did ‘Bije--did your father know
this Mr. Corot well?”

“Know him? Certainly not. Why should you think such a thing as that?”

“Well, he bought the picture of him, and so I s’pose likely he knew him.
There was a young feller come to South Denboro three or four year
ago and offered to paint a picture of our place for fifteen dollars.
Abbie--that’s Abbie Baker, she’s one of our folks, you know, your third
cousin, Caroline; keepin’ house for me, she is--Abbie wanted me to have
him do the job, but I wa’n’t very particular about it, so it never come
to nothin’. He done two or three places, though, and I swan ‘twas nice
work! He painted Sam Cahoon’s old ramshackle house and barn, and you’d
hardly know it, ‘twas so fixed up and fine, in the picture. White paint
and green grass and everything just like real. He left out the places
where the pickets was off the fence and the blinds hangin’ on one hinge.
I told Abbie, I says, ‘Abbie, that painter’s made Sam’s place look
almost respectable, and if that ain’t a miracle, I don’t know what is.
I would think Sam would blush every time he sees that picture.’ Ho, ho!
Abbie seemed to cal’late that Sam Cahoon’s blushin’ would be the biggest
miracle of the two. Ho! ho! You’d like Abbie; she’s got lots of common
sense.”

He chuckled at the reminiscence and rubbed his knee. His niece made no
reply. Captain Elisha glanced at the Corot once more and asked another
question.

“I presume likely,” he said, “that that picture cost consider’ble more
than fifteen, hey?”

“Father paid twenty-two thousand dollars for it,” was the crushing
answer.

The captain looked at her, opened his mouth to speak, shut it again,
and, rising, walked across the room. Adjusting his glasses, he inspected
the Corot in silence for a few minutes. Then he drew a long breath.

“Well!” he sighed. “_Well_.” Then, after an interval, “Was this the only
one he ever painted?”

“The only one? The only picture Corot painted? Of course not! There are
many more.”

“Did--did this Corot feller get as much for every job as he did for
this?”

“I presume so. I know father considered this one a bargain.”

“Did, hey? Humph! I ought to know enough by this time not to believe all
I hear, but I kind of had an idea that picture paintin’ was starvation
work. I’ve read about artists committin’ suicide, and livin’ in attics,
and such. Whew! About two such bargain sale jobs as this, and
I’d guarantee not to starve--and to live as nigh the ground as a
second-floor bedroom anyhow. How about this next one? This feller in a
dory--coddin’, I guess he is. Did--did Mr. Corot do him?”

“No. That is by a well-known American artist. It is a good piece of
work, but not like the other. It is worth much less. Perhaps five
thousand.”

“So? Well, even for that I’d undertake to buy consider’ble many dories,
and hire fellers to fish from ‘em, too. Humph! I guess I’m out of
soundin’s. When I thought fifteen dollars was a high price for paintin’
a view of a house I was slightly mistaken. Next time I’ll offer the
paintin’ feller the house and ask him what he considers a fair boot,
besides. Sam Cahoon’s a better speculator than I thought he was. Hello,
Commodore! what’s worryin’ you now?”

Edwards appeared to announce that dinner was served. Caroline rose
and led the way to the dining room. Captain Elisha followed, looking
curiously about him as he did so. Stephen, who had been sulkily dressing
in his own room, entered immediately after.

The captain surveyed the dining room with interest. Like the others
of the suite, it was sumptuously and tastefully furnished. He took the
chair indicated by the solemn Edwards, and the meal began.

The butler’s sense of humor was not acute, but it was with considerable
difficulty that he restrained his smiles during the next half hour. A
more appreciative observer would have noticed and enjoyed the subtler
points. Stephen’s glare of disgust at his uncle when the latter tucked
his napkin in the opening of his waistcoat; Caroline’s embarrassment
when the captain complimented the soup, declaring that it was almost
as good as one of Abbie’s chowders; the visitor’s obvious uneasiness at
being waited upon attentively, and the like. These Edwards missed, but
he could not help appreciating Captain Elisha’s conversation.

Caroline said little during dinner. Her brother glowered at his plate
and was silent. But the captain talked and talked.

“Maybe you think I didn’t have a time findin’ your new lodgin’s,”
 he said. “I come over on the cars, somethin’ I don’t usually do when
there’s anything afloat to carry me. But I had an errand or two to do
in Boston, so I stopped over night at the hotel there and got the nine
o’clock train. I landed here in New York all shipshape and on time, and
started in to hunt you up.”

“How did you get our address?” asked his niece. “Mr. Graves couldn’t
have given it to you, for we only decided on this apartment a few days
ago.”

“Ho! ho!” chuckled Captain Elisha, rolling in his chair, like a ship in
a cross sea. “Ho! ho! You remind me of Abbie, Caroline. That’s what she
said. ‘I never heard of such a crazy cruise,’ she says. ‘Startin’ off
to visit folks when you haven’t the least idea where they live!’ ‘Oh,
yes, I have,’ I says, ‘I know where they live; they live in New York.’
Well, you ought to have seen her face. Abbie’s a good woman--none
better--but she generally don’t notice a joke until she trips over it.
I get consider’ble fun out of Abbie, take her by the large. ‘New York!’
she says. ‘Did anybody ever hear the beat of that? Do you cal’late New
York’s like South Denboro, where everybody knows everybody else? What
are you plannin’ to do? run up the fust man, woman or child you meet and
ask ‘em to tell you where ‘Bijah Warren lives? Or are you goin’ to trot
from Dan to Beersheby, trustin’ to meet your nephew and niece on the
way? I never in my born days!’

“Well,” went on the captain, “I told her that the last suggestion
weren’t such a bad one, but there was one little objection to it.
Considerin’ that I hadn’t ever laid eyes on Steve and that I hadn’t seen
you since you was a baby, the chances was against my recognizin’ you
if we did meet. Ho, ho, ho! Finally I hinted that I might look in the
directory, and she got more reconciled to my startin’. Honest, I do
believe she’d have insisted on takin’ me by the hand and leadin’ me to
you, if I hadn’t told her that.

[Illustration: “The captain talked and talked.”]

“So I did look in the directory and got the number on Fifth Avenue where
you used to be. I asked a policeman the nighest way to get there, and
he said take a bus. Last time I was in New York I rode in one of those
Fifth Avenue omnibuses, and I never got such a jouncin’ in my life.
The pavement then was round cobble stones, like some of the roads
in Nantucket. I remember I tried to ask a feller that set next to me
somethin’ or other, and I swan to man I couldn’t get nothin’ out of my
mouth but rattles. ‘Metropolitan Museum,’ sounded like puttin’ in a ton
of coal. I thought I was comin’ apart, or my works was out of order, or
somethin’, but when the feller tried to answer he rattled just as bad,
so I realized ‘twas the reg’lar disease and felt some better. I never
shall forget a fleshy woman--somethin’ like that Mrs. Dunn friend of
yours, Caroline--that set opposite me. It give me the crawls to look at
her, her chins shook around so. Ho! ho! she had no less’n three of ‘em,
and they all shook different ways. Ho! ho! ho! If I’d been in the habit
of wearin’ false hair or teeth or anything that wa’n’t growed to or
buttoned on me I’d never have risked a trip in one of those omnibuses.

“So when the police officer prescribed one for me this v’yage, I was
some dubious. I’m older’n I was ten year ago, and I wa’n’t sure that I’d
hold together. I cal’lated walkin’ was better for my health. So I found
Fifth Avenue and started to walk. And the farther I walked the heavier
that blessed satchel of mine got. It weighed maybe ten or twelve pounds
at the corner of 42nd Street, but when I got as far as the open square
where the gilt woman is hurryin’ to keep from bein’ run over by Gen’ral
Sherman on horseback--that statue, you know--I wouldn’t have let that
blessed bag go for less’n two ton, if I was sellin’ it by weight. So
I leaned up against an electric light pole to rest and sort of get my
bearin’s. Then I noticed what I’d ought to have seen afore, that the
street wa’n’t paved with cobbles, as it used to be, but was smooth as
a stretch of state road down home. So I figgered that a bus was a safe
risk, after all. I waited ten minutes or more for one to come, and
finally I asked a woman who was in tow of an astrakhan-trimmed dog at
the end of a chain, if the omnibuses had stopped runnin’. When I fust
see the dog leadin’ her I thought she was blind, but I guess she
was deef and dumb instead. Anyhow, all she said was ‘Ugh!’ not very
enthusiastic, at that, and went along. Ho! ho! So then I asked a man,
and he pointed to a bus right in front of me. You see, I was lookin’ for
the horses, same as they used to be, and this was an automobile.

“I blushed, I guess, just to show that there was some red underneath
the green, and climbed aboard the omnibus. I rode along for a spell,
admirin’ as much of the scenery as I could see between the women’s hats,
then I told the skipper of the thing that I wanted to make port at 82nd
Street. He said ‘Ugh,’ apparently suff’rin’ from the same complaint the
dog woman had, and we went on and on. At last I got kind of anxious and
asked him again.

“‘Eighty-second!’ says he, ugly. ‘This is Ninety-first.’

“‘Good land!’ says I. ‘I wanted Eighty-second.’

“‘Why didn’t you say so?’ says he, lookin’ as if I’d stole his mother’s
spoons.

“‘I did,’ says I.

“‘You _did_?’ he snarls. ‘You did not! If you did, wouldn’t I have heard
you?’

“Well, any answer I’d be likely to make to that would have meant more
argument, and the bus was sailin’ right along at the time, so I piled
out and did some more walkin’, the other way. At last I reached your old
number, Stevie, and--Hey? Did you speak?”

“Don’t call me ‘Stevie,’” growled his nephew, rebelliously.

“Beg your pardon. I keep forgettin’ that you’re almost grown up. Well,
as I was sayin’, I got to the house where you used to live, and ‘twas
shut tight. Nobody there. Ho! ho! I felt a good deal like old Beriah
Doane must have on his last ‘vacation.’ You see, Beriah is one of our
South Denboro notorieties; he’s famous in his way. He works and loafs
by spells until cranberry pickin’ time in the fall; then he picks steady
and earns thirty or forty dollars all at once. Soon’s he’s paid off, he
starts for Boston on a ‘vacation,’ an alcoholic one. Well, last fall
his married sister was visitin’ him, and she, bein’ strong for good
Templarism, was determined he shouldn’t vacate in his regular way. So
she telegraphed her husband’s brother in Brockton to meet Beriah there,
go with him to Boston, and see that he behaved himself and stayed sober.
Beriah heard of it, and when his train gets as far as Tremont what does
he do but get off quiet and change cars for New Bedford. He hadn’t been
there for nine years, but he had pleasant memories of his last visit.
And when he does get to New Bedford, chucklin’ over the way he’s
befooled his sister and her folks, I’m blessed if he didn’t find that
the town had gone no-license, and every saloon was shut up! Ho! ho! ho!
Well, I felt about the way he did, I guess, when I stood on the steps
of your Fifth Avenue house and realized you’d gone away. I wouldn’t have
had Abbie see me there for somethin’. Ho! ho!”

He leaned back in his chair and laughed aloud. Caroline smiled faintly.
Stephen threw down his napkin and sprang to his feet.

“Sis,” he cried, “I’m going to my room. By gad! I can’t--”

Catching a warning glance from his sister, he did not finish his
sentence, but stood sulkily beside his chair. Captain Elisha looked at
him, then at the girl, and stopped laughing. He folded his napkin with
care, and rose.

“That’s about all of it,” he said, shortly. “I asked around at two or
three of the neighbors’ houses, and the last one I asked knew where
you’d moved and told me how to get here.”

When the trio were again in the library, the captain spoke once more.

“I’m ‘fraid I’ve talked too much,” he said, gravely. “I didn’t realize
how I was runnin’ on. Thought I was home, I guess, with the fellers of
my own age down at the postoffice, instead of bein’ an old countryman,
tirin’ out you two young city folks with my yarns. I beg your pardon.
Now you mustn’t mind me. I see you’re expectin’ company or goin’ callin’
somewheres, so I’ll just go to my bedroom and write Abbie a line. She’ll
be kind of anxious to know if I got here safe and sound and found you.
Don’t worry about me, I’ll be comf’table and busy.”

He turned to go. Caroline looked at him in surprise. “We are not
expecting callers,” she said. “And certainly we are not going out
to-night. Why should you think such a thing?”

It was her uncle’s turn to show surprise.

“Why,” he said, with a glance at Stephen, “I see that you’re all dressed
up, and so I thought, naturally--”

He paused.

Young Warren grunted contemptuously.

“We dressed for dinner, that is all,” said Caroline.

“You--you mean you put these clothes on every night?”

“Certainly.”

Captain Elisha was plainly very much astonished.

“Well,” he observed, slowly. “I--guess I’ve made another mistake. Hum!
Good night.”

“Good night,” said Stephen, quickly. Caroline, however, seemed
embarrassed.

“Captain Warren,” she said, “I thought possibly you might wish to talk
business with my brother and me. We--we understand that you have come
on business connected with father’s will. It seems to me that the sooner
we--we--”

“Get it over the better, hey? Well, maybe you’re right. It’s an odd
business for an old salt like me to be mixed up in, that’s a fact. If it
hadn’t been so odd, if I hadn’t thought there must be some reason, some
partic’lar reason, I--well, I guess I’d have stayed to home where I
belong. You mustn’t think,” he added, seriously, “that I don’t realize
I’m as out of place amongst you and your rich friends as a live fish in
a barrel of sawdust. That’s all right; you needn’t trouble to say no.
But you must understand that, realizin’ it, I’m not exactly imposin’
myself on you for pleasure or--well, from choice. I’m so built that I
can’t shirk when my conscience tells me I shouldn’t, that’s all. I’m
kind of tired to-night, and I guess you are. To-morrow mornin’, if it’s
agreeable to all hands, we will have a little business talk. I’ll have
to see Lawyer Graves pretty soon, and have a gen’ral look at your pa’s
affairs. Then, if everything is all right and I feel my duty’s done,
I’ll probably go back to the Cape and leave you to him, or somebody else
able to look out for you. Until then I’m afraid,” with a smile which had
a trace of bitterness in it; “I’m afraid you’ll have to do the best you
can with me. I’ll try to be no more of a nuisance than I can help. Good
night.”

When the two young people were left alone, Caroline turned to her
brother.

“Steve,” she said, “I’m afraid you were a little rude. I’m afraid you
hurt his feelings.”

The boy stared at her in wonder. “Hurt his feelings!” he exclaimed.
“_His_ feelings! Well, by Jove! Caro, you’re a wonder! Did you expect me
to throw my arms around his neck? If he had had any feelings at all, if
he was the slightest part of a gentleman, do you suppose he would come
here and disgrace us as he is doing? Who invited him? Did we? I guess
not!”

“But he is father’s brother, and father asked him to come.”

“No, he didn’t. He asked him--heaven knows why--to look out for our
money affairs. That’s bad enough; but he didn’t ask him to _live_ with
us. He sha’n’t! by gad, he sha’n’t! _You_ may be as sweet to him as you
like, but I’ll make it my business to give him the cold shoulder every
chance I get. I’ll freeze him out, that’s what I’ll do--freeze him out.
Why, Caro! be sensible. Think what his staying here means. Can we take
him about with us? Can our friends meet _him_ as--as our uncle? He’s got
to be made to go. Hasn’t he now? Hasn’t he?”

The girl was silent for a moment. Then she covered her face with her
hands. “Oh, yes!” she sobbed. “Oh, yes, he must! he _Must_! _Why_ did
father do it?”




CHAPTER V


The Warren breakfast hour was nine o’clock. At a quarter to nine
Caroline, entering the library, found Stephen seated by the fire reading
the morning paper.

“Good morning,” she said. Then, looking about the room, asked, “Has--has
_he_ been here?”

Her brother shook his head. “You mean Uncle ‘Lish?” he asked,
cheerfully. “No, he hasn’t. At least, I haven’t seen him and I haven’t
made any inquiries. I shall manage to survive if he never appears. Let
sleeping relatives lie, that’s my motto.”

He laughed at his own joke and turned the page of the paper. The butler
entered.

“Breakfast is served, Miss Caroline,” he announced.

“Has Captain Warren come from his room?” asked the young lady.

“No, Miss Caroline. That is, I haven’t seen him.”

Stephen tossed the paper on the floor and rose.

“I wonder--” he began. Then, with a broad grin, “A sudden thought
strikes me, Sis. He has undoubtedly blown out the gas.”

“Steve! How can you!”

“Perfectly simple. Absolutely reasonable. Just what might have been
expected. ‘He has gone, but we shall miss him.’ Come on, Caro; I’m
hungry. Let the old hayseed sleep. You and I can have a meal in peace.
Heavens! you don’t care for another experience like last night’s, do
you?”

“Edwards,” said Caroline, “you may knock at Captain Warren’s door and
tell him breakfast is served.”

“Yes,” commanded Stephen, “and tell him not to hurry on our account.
Come, Caro, come! You’re not pining for his society. Well, wait then!
_I_ won’t!”

He marched angrily out of the room. His sister hesitated, her wish
to follow complicated by a feeling of duty to a guest, no matter how
unwelcome. The butler reappeared, looking puzzled.

“He’s not there, miss?” he said.

“Not there? Not in his room?”

“No, Miss Caroline. I knocked, and he didn’t answer, so I looked in and
he wasn’t there. His bed’s been slept in, but he’s gone.”

“Gone? And you haven’t seen him?”

“No, miss. I’ve been up and about since half past seven, and I can’t
understand where he could have got to.”

The door of the hall opened and shut. Edwards darted from the library.
A moment afterwards Captain Elisha strolled in. He was wearing his
overcoat, and his hat was in his hand.

“Good mornin’, Caroline,” he hailed, in his big voice. “Surprised to see
me, are you? Ho! ho! So was the Commodore. He couldn’t understand how
I got in without ringin’. Well, you see, I’m used to turnin’ out pretty
early, and when it got to be most seven o’clock, I couldn’t lay to bed
any longer, so I got up, dressed, and went for a walk. I fixed the door
latch so’s I could come in quiet. You haven’t waited breakfast for me, I
hope.”

“No; it is ready now, however.”

“Ready now,” the captain looked at his watch. “Yes, I should think so.
It’s way into the forenoon. You _have_ waited for me, haven’t you? I’m
awfully sorry.”

“No, we have not waited. Our breakfast hour is nine. Pardon me for
neglecting to tell you that last evening.”

“Oh, that’s all right. Now you trot right out and eat. I’ve had mine.”

“Had your breakfast?”

“Yes, indeed. When I’m home, Abbie and I usually eat about seven, so I
get sort of sharp-set if I wait after that. I cal’lated you city folks
was late sleepers, and I wouldn’t want to make any trouble, so I found
a little eatin’ house down below here a ways and had a cup of coffee and
some bread and butter and mush. Then I went cruisin’ round in Central
Park a spell. This _is_ Central Park over across here, ain’t it?”

“Yes.” The girl was too astonished to say more.

“I thought ‘twas. I’d been through part of it afore, but ‘twas years
ago, and it’s such a big place and the paths run so criss-cross I got
sort of mixed up, and it took me longer to get out than it did to get
in. I had the gen’ral points of the compass, and I guess I could have
made a pretty average straight run for home, but every time I wanted to
cut across lots there was a policeman lookin’ at me, so I had to stick
to the channel. That’s what made me so late. Now do go and eat your
breakfast. I won’t feel easy till I see you start.”

Caroline departed, and the captain, after a visit to his own room, where
he left his coat and hat, returned to the library, picked up the paper
which his nephew had dropped, and began reading.

After breakfast came the “business talk.” It was a brief one. Captain
Elisha soon discovered that his brother’s children knew very little
concerning their father’s affairs. They had always plenty of money, had
been indulged in practically every wish, and had never had to think or
plan for themselves. As to the size of the estate, they knew nothing
more than Mr. Graves had told them, which was that, instead of the
several millions which rumor had credited A. Rodgers Warren with
possessing, five hundred thousand dollars would probably be the extent
of their inheritance, and that, therefore, they must live economically.
As a first step in that direction, they had given up their former home
and moved to the apartment.

“Yes, yes,” mused the captain, “I see. Mr. Graves didn’t know about your
movin’, then? You did it on your own hook, so to speak?”

Stephen answered promptly.

“Of course we did,” he declared. “Why not?”

“No reason in the world. A good sensible thing to do, I should say.
Didn’t anybody advise you where to go?”

“Why should we need advice?” Again it was Stephen who replied. “We
aren’t kids. We’re old enough to decide some things for ourselves, I
should think.”

“Yes. Sartin. That’s right. But I didn’t know but p’raps some of your
friends might have helped along. This Mrs. Dunn now, she kind of hinted
to me that she’d--well, done what she could to make you comf’table.”

“She has,” avowed Caroline, warmly. “Mrs. Dunn and Malcolm have proved
their friendship in a thousand ways. We never can repay them, Stephen
and I, never!”

“No. There’s some things you can’t ever pay, I know that. Mrs. Dunn
found this nice place for you, did she?”

“Why, yes. She and I found it together.”

“So? That was lucky, wa’n’t it? Advertised in the newspaper, was it; or
was there a ‘To Let’ placard up in the window?”

“No, certainly not. Mrs. Dunn knew that we had decided to move, and she
has a cousin who is interested in New York property. She asked him, and
he mentioned this apartment.”

“One of his own, was it?”

“I believe so. Why are you so particular? Don’t you like it?”

Her tone was sharp. Stephen, who resented his uncle’s questions as
impertinent intrusions upon the family affairs, added one of his own.

“Isn’t it as good as those in--what do you call it--South Denboro?” he
asked, maliciously.

Captain Elisha laughed heartily.

“Pretty nigh as good,” he said. “I didn’t notice any better on the way
to the depot as I drove up. And I doubt if there’s many new ones built
since I left. It’s a mighty fine lot of rooms, I think. What’s the rent?
You’ll excuse my askin’, things bein’ as they are.”

“Twenty-two hundred a year,” answered his niece, coldly.

The captain looked at her, whistled, broke off the whistle in the
middle, and did a little mental arithmetic.

“Twenty-two hundred a year!” he repeated. “That’s one hundred and
eighty odd a month. Say, that cousin of Mrs. Dunn’s must want to get his
investment back. You mean for just these ten rooms?”

Stephen laughed scornfully.

“Our guardian has been counting, Caro,” he remarked.

“Yes. Yes, I counted this mornin’ when I got up. I was interested,
naturally.”

“Sure! Naturally, of course,” sneered the boy. “Did you think the
twenty-two hundred was the rent of the entire building?”

“Well, I didn’t know. I--”

“The rent,” interrupted Caroline, with dignity, “was twenty-four
hundred, but, thanks to Mrs. Dunn, who explained to her cousin that we
were friends of hers, it was reduced.”

“We being in reduced circumstances,” observed her brother in supreme
disgust. “Pity the poor orphans! By gad!”

“That was real nice of Mrs. Dunn,” declared Captain Elisha, heartily.
“She’s pretty well-off herself, I s’pose--hey, Caroline?”

“I presume so.”

“Yes, yes. About how much is she wuth, think?”

“I don’t know. I never inquired.”

“No. Well, down our way,” with a chuckle, “we don’t have to inquire. Ask
anybody you meet what his next door neighbor’s wuth, and he’ll tell you
within a hundred, and how he got it, and how much he owes, and how he
gets along with his wife. Ho! ho! Speakin’ of wives, is this Mr. Dunn
married?”

He looked at his niece as he asked the question. There was no reason why
Caroline should blush; she knew it, and hated herself for doing it.

“No,” she answered, resentfully, “he is not.”

“Um-hm. What’s his business?”

“He is connected with a produce exchange house, I believe.”

“One of the firm?”

“I don’t know. In New York we are not as well posted, or as curious,
concerning our friends’ private affairs as your townspeople seem to be.”

“I guess that’s so. I imagine New Yorkers are too busy gettin’ it
themselves to bother whether their neighbors have got it or not. Well,”
 he went on, rising, “I guess I’ve kept you young folks from your work
or--or play, or whatever you was going to do, long enough for this once.
I think I’ll go out for a spell. I’ve got an errand or two I want to do.
What time do you have dinner?”

“We lunch at half past one,” answered Caroline.

“We dine at seven.”

“Oh, yes, yes! I keep forgettin’ that supper’s dinner. Well, I presume
likely I’ll be back for luncheon. If I ain’t, don’t wait for me. I’ll be
home afore supper--there I go again!--afore dinner, anyhow. Good-by.”

Five minutes later he was at the street corner, inquiring of a policeman
“the handiest way to get to Pine Street.” Following the directions
given, he boarded a train at the nearest subway station, emerged at Wall
Street, inquired once more, located the street he was looking for, and,
consulting a card which he took from a big stained leather pocket-book,
walked on, peering at the numbers of the buildings he passed.

The offices of Sylvester, Kuhn, and Graves, were on the sixteenth floor
of a new and gorgeously appointed sky-scraper. When Captain Elisha
entered the firm’s reception room, he was accosted by a wide-awake and
extremely self-possessed office boy.

“Who’d you want to see?” asked the boy, briskly.

The captain removed his hat and wiped his forehead with his
handkerchief.

“Hold on a jiffy, Sonny,” he panted. “Just give me a minute to sort of
get myself together, as you might say. I rode up in one of those express
elevators of yours, and I kind of feel as if my boots had got tangled up
with my necktie. When that elevator feller cast off from the cellar, I
begun to shut up like a spyglass. Whew! Say, Son, is Mr. Graves in?”

“No,” replied the boy, grinning.

“Hum! Still in the sick bay, is he--hey?”

“He’s to home. Got a cold.”

“Yup. It’s too bad. Mr.--er--Sylvester, is he in?”

“Naw, he ain’t. And Mr. Kuhn’s busy. Won’t one of the clerks do? What do
you want to see the firm about?”

“Well, Son, I had reasons of my own. However, I guess I won’t disturb
Mr. Kuhn, if he’s busy’s you say. Here! you tell him, or Mr. Sylvester
when he comes, that Cap’n Warren, Cap’n Elisha Warren of South
Denboro--better write it down--called and will be back about half past
twelve or thereabouts. Got it, have you? Hum! is that Elisha? You don’t
tell me! I’ve been spellin’ it for sixty years, more or less, and never
realized it had such possibilities. Lend me your pencil. There! you give
Mr. Sylvester that and tell him I’ll see him later. So long, Son.”

He departed, smiling. The indignant office boy threw the card on the
table.

Captain Elisha strolled down Pine Street, looking about him with
interest. It had been years since he visited this locality, and the
changes were many. Soon, however, he began to recognize familiar
landmarks. He was approaching the water front, and there were fewer new
buildings. When he reached South Street he was thoroughly at home.

The docks were crowded. The river was alive with small craft of all
kinds. Steamers and schooners were plenty, but the captain missed the
old square-riggers, the clipper ships and barks, such as he had sailed
in as cabin boy, as foremast hand, and, later, commanded on many seas.

At length, however, he saw four masts towering above the roof of a
freight house. They were not schooner rigged, those masts. The yards
were set square across, and along them were furled royals and upper
topsails. Here, at last, was a craft worth looking at. Captain Elisha
crossed the street, hurried past the covered freight house, and saw a
magnificent great ship lying beside a broad open wharf. Down the wharf
he walked, joyfully, as one who greets an old friend.

The wharf was practically deserted. An ancient watchman was dozing in
a sort of sentry box, but he did not wake. There was a pile of
foreign-looking crates and boxes at the further end of the pier,
evidently the last bit of cargo waiting to be carted away. The captain
inspected the pile, recognized the goods as Chinese and Japanese, then
read the name on the big ship’s stern. She was the _Empress of the
Ocean_, and her home port was Liverpool.

Captain Elisha, as a free-born Yankee skipper, had an inherited and
cherished contempt for British “lime-juicers,” but he could not help
admiring this one. To begin with, her size and tonnage were enormous.
Also, she was four-masted, instead of the usual three, and her hull and
lower spars were of steel instead of wood. A steel sailing vessel was
something of a novelty to the captain, and he was seized with a desire
to go aboard and inspect.

The ladder from ship to wharf was down, of course, and getting on board
was an easy matter. When he reached the deck and looked about him, the
great size of the ship was still more apparent. The bulwarks were as
high as a short man’s head. She was decked over aft, and, as the captain
said afterwards, “her cabins had nigh as many stories as a house.”
 From the roof of the “first story,” level with the bulwarks, extended
a series of bridges, which could be hoisted or lowered, and by means of
which her officers could walk from stern to bow without descending to
the deck. There was a good-sized engine house forward, beyond the galley
and forecastle. Evidently the work of hoisting anchors and canvas was
done by steam.

The captain strolled about, looking her over. The number of improvements
since his seagoing days was astonishing. He was standing by the wheel,
near the companion way, wishing that he might inspect the officers’
quarters, but not liking to do so without an invitation, when two men
emerged from the cabin.

One of the pair was evidently the Japanese steward of the ship. The
other was a tall, clean-cut young fellow, whose general appearance and
lack of sunburn showed quite plainly that he was not a seafaring man
by profession. The steward caught sight of Captain Elisha, and, walking
over, accosted him.

“Want to see skipper, sir?” he asked, in broken English. “He ashore.”

“No, Doctor,” replied the captain, cheerfully. “I don’t want to see
him. I’ve got no business aboard. It’s been some time since I trod the
quarter-deck of a square-rigger, and I couldn’t resist the temptation
of tryin’ how the planks felt under my feet. This is consider’ble of a
clipper you’ve got here,” he added.

“Yes, sir,” replied the steward grinning.

“Where you from?” asked Captain Elisha.

“Singapore, sir.”

“Cargo all out?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Waitin’ for another one?”

“Yes, sir. We load for Manila bimeby.”

“Manila, hey? Have a good passage across?”

“Yes, sir. She good ship.”

“Shouldn’t wonder. How d’ye do, sir,” to the young man, who was standing
near. “Hope you won’t think I’m crowdin’ in where I don’t belong. I was
just tellin’ the doctor here that it had been some time since I trod a
quarter-deck, and I thought I’d see if I’d forgot the feel.”

“Have you?” asked the young man, smiling.

“Guess not. Seems kind of nat’ral. I never handled such a whale of a
craft as this, though. Didn’t have many of ‘em in my day. Come over in
her, did you?”

“No,” with a shake of the head. “No such luck. I’m a land lubber, just
scouting round, that’s all. She’s a bully vessel, isn’t she?”

“Looks so. Tell you better after I’ve seen what she could do in a
full-sail breeze. All hands ashore, Doctor?”

“Yes, sir,” replied the steward.

“Crew paid off and spendin’ their money, I s’pose. Well, if it ain’t
against orders, I’d kind of like to look around a little mite. May I?”

The steward merely grinned. His companion answered for him.

“Certainly you may,” he said. “I’m a friend of one of the consignees,
and I’d be glad to show you the ship, if you like. Shall we begin with
the cabins?”

Captain Elisha, delighted with the opportunity, expressed his thanks,
and the tour of inspection began. The steward remained on deck, but the
captain and his new acquaintance strolled through the officers’ quarters
together.

“Jerushy!” exclaimed the former, as he viewed the main cabin. “Say, you
could pretty nigh have a dance here, couldn’t you? A small one. This
reminds me of the cabin aboard the _Sea Gull_, first vessel I went mate
of--it’s so diff’rent. Aboard her we had to walk sittin’ down. There
wa’n’t room in the cabin for more’n one to stand up at a time. But she
could sail, just the same--and carry it, too. I’ve seen her off the Horn
with studdin’ sails set, when craft twice her length and tonnage had
everything furled above the tops’l yard. Hi hum! you mustn’t mind an old
salt runnin’ on this way. I’ve been out of the pickle tub a good while,
but I cal’late the brine ain’t all out of my system.”

His guide’s eyes snapped.

“I understand,” he said, laughing. “I’ve never been at sea, on a long
voyage, in my life, but I can understand just how you feel. It’s in
my blood, I guess. I come of a salt water line. My people were from
Belfast, Maine, and every man of them went to sea.”

“Belfast, hey? They turned out some A No. 1 sailors in Belfast. I sailed
under a Cap’n Pearson from there once--James Pearson, his name was.”

“He was my great uncle. I was named for him. My name is James Pearson,
also.”

“_What_?” Captain Elisha was hugely delighted. “Mr. Pearson, shake
hands. I want to tell you that your Uncle Jim was a seaman of the kind
you dream about, but seldom meet. I was his second mate three v’yages.
My name’s Elisha Warren.”

Mr. Pearson shook hands and laughed, good-humoredly.

“Glad to meet you, Captain Warren,” he said. “And I’m glad you knew
Uncle Jim. As a youngster, he was my idol. He could spin yarns that were
worth listening to.”

“I bet you! He’d seen things wuth yarnin’ about. So you ain’t a sailor,
hey? Livin’ in New York?”

The young man nodded. “Yes,” he said. Then, with a dry smile, “If you
call occupying a hall bedroom and eating at a third-rate boarding-house
table living. However, it’s my own fault. I’ve been a newspaper man
since I left college. But I threw up my job six months ago. Since then
I’ve been free-lancing.”

“Have, hey?” The captain was too polite to ask further questions, but he
had not the slightest idea what “free-lancing” might be. Pearson divined
his perplexity and explained.

“I’ve had a feeling,” he said, “that I might write magazine articles and
stories--yes, possibly a novel or two. It’s a serious disease, but
the only way to find out whether it’s chronic or not is to experiment.
That’s what I’m doing now. The thing I’m at work on may turn out to be
a sea story. So I spend some time around the wharves and aboard the few
sailing ships in port, picking up material.”

Captain Elisha patted him on the back.

“Now don’t you get discouraged,” he said. “I used to have an idea that
novel writin’ and picture paintin’ was poverty jobs for men with healthy
appetites, but I’ve changed my mind. I don’t know’s you’ll believe it,
but I’ve just found out, for a fact, that some painters get twenty-two
thousand dollars for one picture. For _one_, mind you. And a little mite
of a thing, too, that couldn’t have cost scarcely anything to paint.
Maybe novels sell for just as much. _I_ don’t know.”

His companion laughed heartily. “I’m afraid not, Captain,” he said.
“Few, at any rate. I should be satisfied with considerably less, to
begin with. Are you living here in town?”

“Well--we-ll, I don’t know. I ain’t exactly livin’, and I ain’t exactly
boardin’, but--Say! ain’t that the doctor callin’ you?”

It was the steward, and there was an anxious ring in his voice. Pearson
excused himself and hurried out of the cabin. Captain Elisha lingered
for a final look about. Then he followed leisurely, becoming aware, as
he reached the open air, of loud voices in angry dialogue.

Entrances to the _Empress of the Ocean’s_ cabins were on the main deck,
and also on the raised half-deck at the stern, near the wheel, the
binnacle and the officers’ corned-beef tubs, swinging in their frames.
From this upper deck two flights of steps led down to the main deck
below. At the top of one of these flights stood young Pearson, cool and
alert. Behind him half crouched the Japanese steward, evidently very
much frightened. At the foot of the steps were grouped three rough
looking men, foreigners and sailors without doubt, and partially
intoxicated. The three men were an ugly lot, and they were all yelling
and jabbering together in a foreign lingo. As the captain emerged
from the passage to the open deck, he heard Pearson reply in the same
language.

“What’s the matter?” he asked.

Pearson answered without turning his head.

“Drunken sailors,” he explained. “Part of the crew here. They’ve been
uptown, got full, and come back to square a grudge they seem to have
against the steward. I’m telling them they’d better give up and go
ashore, if they know when they’re well off.”

The three fellows by the ladder’s foot were consulting together. On the
wharf were half a dozen loungers, collected by the prospect of a row.

“If I can hold them off for a few minutes,” went on Pearson, “we’ll be
all right. The wharf watchman has gone for the police. Here! drop it!
What are you up to?”

One of the sailors had drawn a knife. The other two reached for their
belts behind, evidently intending to follow suit. From the loafers on
the wharf came shouts of encouragement.

“Do the dude up, Pedro! Give him what’s comin’ to him.”

The trio formed for a rush. The steward, with a shrill scream, fled to
the cabin. Pearson did not move; he even smiled. The next moment he was
pushed to one side, and Captain Elisha stood at the top of the steps.

“Here!” he said, sternly. “What’s all this?”

The three sailors, astonished at this unexpected addition to their
enemies forces, hesitated. Pearson laid his hand on the captain’s arm.

“Be careful,” he said. “They’re dangerous.”

“Dangerous? Them? I’ve seen their kind afore. Here, you!” turning to the
three below. “What do you mean by this? Put down that knife, you lubber!
Do you want to be put in irons? Over the side with you, you swabs! Git!”

He began descending the ladder. Whether the sailors were merely too
surprised to resist, or because they recognized the authority of the
deep sea in Captain Elisha’s voice and face is a question. At any rate,
as he descended they backed away.

“Mutiny on board a ship of mine?” roared the captain. “What do you mean
by it? Why, I’ll have you tied up and put on bread and water. Over the
side with you! Mutiny on board of _me_! Lively! Tumble up there!”

With every order came a stride forward and a correspondingly backward
movement on the part of the three. The performance would have been
ridiculous if Pearson had not feared that it might become tragic. He was
descending the steps to his new acquaintance’s aid, when there rose a
chorus of shouts from the wharf.

“The cops! the cops! Look out!”

That was the finishing touch. The next moment the three “mutineers” were
over the side and running as fast as their alcoholic condition would
permit down the wharf.

“Well, by George!” exclaimed Pearson.

Captain Elisha seemed to be coming out of a dream. He stood still, drew
his hand across his forehead, and then began to laugh.

“Well!” he stammered. “Well, I snum! I--I--Mr. Pearson, I wonder what on
earth you must think of me. I declare the sight of that gang set me back
about twenty years. They--they must have thought I was the new skipper!
Did you hear me tell ‘em they couldn’t mutiny aboard of me? Ho! ho!
Well, I am an old idiot!”

Pearson stuck his fist into the palm of his other hand. “I’ve got it!”
 he cried. “I knew your name was familiar. Why, you’re the mate that
handled the mutinous crew aboard Uncle Jim’s bark, the _Pacer_, off
Mauritius, in the typhoon, when he was hurt and in the cabin. I’ve heard
him tell it a dozen times. Well, this _is_ a lucky day for me!”

Captain Elisha was evidently pleased. “So he told you that, did he?” he
began. “That _was_ a time and a half, I--”

He was interrupted. Over the rail appeared a blue helmet, and an instant
later a big and very pompous police officer leaped to the deck. He was
followed by the wharf watchman, who looked frightened.

“Where’s the other one of them?” demanded the policeman. “Oh, it’s you,
is it? Well, you’re too old to be gettin’ drunk and fightin’. Come along
now, peaceable, and let’s have no words about it.”

He advanced and laid a hand on the captain’s arm.

“You’re under arrest,” he announced. “Will you come along quiet?”

“I’m under arrest?” repeated Captain Elisha. “Under--My soul and body!
Why, I ain’t done anything.”

“Yes, I know. Nobody’s done nothin’. Come on, or shall I--Hello, Mr.
Pearson, sir! How d’you do?”

Pearson had stepped forward.

“Slattery,” he said, “you’ve made a mistake. Let me tell you about
it.” He drew the officer aside and whispered in his ear. After a rather
lengthy conversation, the guardian of the peace turned to the watchman.

“What d’you mean by tellin’ all them lies?” he demanded.

“Lies?” repeated the astonished watchman. “I never told no lies.”

“You did. You said this gentleman,” indicating the nervous and
apprehensive Captain Elisha, “was fightin’ and murderin’. I ask your
pardon, sir. ‘Twas this bloke’s foolishness. G’wan ashore! You make me
sick. Good day, Mr. Pearson.”

He departed, driving his new victim before him and tongue-lashing him
all the way. The captain drew a long breath.

“Say, Mr. Pearson,” he declared, “a minute or so ago you said this was
a lucky day for you. I cal’late it’s a luckier one for me. If it hadn’t
been for you I’d been took up. Yes, sir, took up and carted off to the
lockup. Whew! that would have looked well in the papers, wouldn’t it?
And my niece and nephew.... Jerushy! I’m mightily obliged to you. How
did you handle that policeman so easily?”

Pearson laughed. “Oh,” he replied, “a newspaper training and
acquaintance has its advantages. Slattery knows me, and I know him.”

“Well, I thank you, I do so.”

“You needn’t. I wouldn’t have missed meeting you and seeing you handle
those fellows for a good deal. And besides, you’re not going to escape
so easy. You must lunch with me.”

The captain started, hastily pulled out his watch, and looked at it.

“Quarter to one!” he cried. “And I said I’d be back at that lawyer’s
office at half-past twelve. No, no, Mr. Pearson, I can’t go to lunch
with you, but I do wish you’d come and see me some time. My address
for--for a spell, anyhow--is Central Park West,” giving the number, “and
the name is Warren, same as mine. Will you come some evenin’? I’d be
tickled to death to see you.”

The young man was evidently delighted.

“Will I?” he exclaimed. “Indeed I will. I warn you, Captain Warren, that
I shall probably keep you busy spinning sea yarns.”

“Nothin’ I like better, though I’m afraid my yarns’ll be pretty dull
alongside of your Uncle Jim’s.”

“I’ll risk it. Good-by and good luck. I shall see you very soon.”

“That’s right; do. So long.”




CHAPTER VI


The boy, Captain Elisha’s acquaintance of the morning, was out, regaling
himself with crullers and milk at a pushcart on Broad Street, when the
captain returned to the officers of Sylvester, Kuhn and Graves. The
clerk who had taken his place was very respectful.

“Captain Warren,” he said, “Mr. Sylvester was sorry to miss you. He
waited until half past twelve and left word for us to telephone if you
came. Our Mr. Graves is still ill, and the matter of your brother’s
estate must be discussed without further delay. Please sit down and I
will telephone.”

The captain seated himself on the leather-covered bench, and the clerk
entered the inner office. He returned, a few moments later, to say:

“Mr. Sylvester is at the Central Club. He wished me to ask if you could
conveniently join him there.”

Captain Elisha pondered. “Why, yes,” he replied, slowly, “I s’pose I
could. I don’t know why I couldn’t. Where is this--er--club of his?”

“On Fifth Avenue, near Fifty-second Street. I’ll send one of our boys
with you if you like.”

“No, no! I can pilot myself, I guess. I ain’t so old I can’t ask my
way. Though--” with a reminiscent chuckle--“if the folks I ask are all
sufferin’ from that ‘Ugh’ disease, I sha’n’t make much headway.”

“What disease?” asked the puzzled clerk.

“Oh, nothin’. I was just thinkin’ out loud, that’s all. Mr. Sylvester
wants to see me right off, does he?”

“Yes, he said he would wait if I ‘phoned him you were coming.”

“Um-hm. Well, you can tell him I’ve left the dock, bound in his
direction. Say, that young chap that was here when I called the fust
time--studyin’ to be a lawyer, is he?”

“Who? Tim? No, indeed. He’s only the office boy. Why did you ask?”

“Oh, I was just wonderin’. I had a notion he might be in trainin’ for a
judgeship, he was so high and mighty. Ho! ho! He’s got talent, that boy
has. Nobody but a born genius could have made as many mistakes in one
name as he did when he undertook to spell Elisha. Well, sir, I’m much
obliged to you. Good day.”

The Central Club is a ponderous institution occupying a becomingly
gorgeous building on the Avenue. The captain found his way to its door
without much trouble. A brass-buttoned attendant answered his ring and
superciliously inquired his business. Captain Elisha, not being greatly
in awe of either buttons or brief authority, calmly hailed the attendant
as “Gen’ral” and informed him that he was there to see Mr. Sylvester, if
the latter was “on deck anywheres.”

“Tell him it’s Cap’n Warren, Major,” he added cheerfully; “he’s
expectin’ me.”

The attendant brusquely ushered the visitor into a leather-upholstered
reception room and left him. The captain amused himself by looking at
the prints and framed letters and autographs on the walls. Then a round,
red, pleasant-faced man entered.

“Pardon me,” he said, “is this Captain Warren?”

“Yes, sir,” was the reply. “That’s my name. This is Mr. Sylvester, ain’t
it? Glad to know you, sir.”

“Thanks. Sorry to have made you travel way up here, Captain. I waited
until twelve-thirty, but as you didn’t come then, I gave you up. Hope I
haven’t inconvenienced you.”

“No, no. Not a mite. Might just as well be here as anywhere. Don’t think
another thing about it.”

“Have you lunched, Captain Warren?”

“No, come to think of it, I ain’t. I’ve been kind of busy this forenoon,
and a little thing like dinner--luncheon, I mean--slipped my mind.
Though ‘tain’t often I have those slips, I’m free to say. Ho! ho!
Abbie--she’s my second cousin, my housekeeper--says I’m an unsartin
critter, but there’s two things about me she can always count on, one’s
that my clothes have always got a button loose somewheres, and t’other’s
my appetite.”

He laughed, and Sylvester laughed with him.

“Well,” observed the lawyer, “I’m not sure that I couldn’t qualify on
both of those counts. At any rate I’m sure of my appetite. I had a lunch
engagement with an acquaintance of mine, but he hasn’t appeared, so you
must take his place. We’ll lunch together.”

“Well, now, I’d like to fust-rate, and it’s real kind of you, Mr.
Sylvester; but I don’t know’s I’d better. Your friend may heave in
sight, after all, and I’d be in the way.”

“Not a bit of it. And I said ‘acquaintance,’ not ‘friend.’ Of course you
will! You must. We can talk business while we’re eating, if you like.”

“All right. And I’m ever so much obliged to you. Is there an eatin’
house near here?”

“Oh, we’ll eat right here at the club. Come.”

He led the way, and Captain Elisha followed. The Central Club has a
large, exclusive, and wealthy membership, and its quarters correspond.
The captain gazed about him at the marble floors and pillars, the
paintings and busts, with interest. After checking his hat and coat, as
they entered the elevator he asked a question.

“Which floor is your club on, Mr. Sylvester?” he asked.

“Floor? Why, the dining room is on the fourth, if that’s what you mean.”

“No, I meant how many rooms do you rent?”

“We occupy the entire building. It is our own, and a comparatively new
one. We built it three years ago.”

“You mean this whole shebang is just one _club_?”

“Certainly.”

“Hum! I see. Well, I--”

“What were you going to say?”

“Nothin’. I was wonderin’ what fool thing I’d ask next. I’m more used to
lodge rooms than I am to clubs, I guess. I’d like to take home a picture
of this place to Theophilus Kenney. Theoph’s been raisin’ hob because
the Odd Fellows built on to their buildin’. He said one room was enough
for any society. ‘Twould be, if we was all his kind of society. Theoph’s
so small he could keep house in a closet. He’s always hollerin’
in meetin’ about his soul. I asked the minister if it didn’t seem
ridic’lous for Kenney to make such a big noise over such a little thing.
This where we get off?”

The dining room was a large and ornate apartment. Captain Elisha, when
he first entered it, seemed about to ask another question, but choked
it off and remained silent. Sylvester chose a table in a retired corner,
and they sat down.

“Now, Captain Warren,” said the host, “what will you eat?”

Captain Elisha shook his head.

“You do the orderin’,” he replied dryly; “I’ll just set and be thankful,
like the hen that found the china doorknob. Anything that suits you will
do me, I guess.”

The lawyer, who seemed to be thoroughly enjoying his companion, gave
his orders, and the waiter brought first a bit of caviar on toast. If
Sylvester expected this delicacy to produce astonished comments, he was
disappointed.

“Well, well!” exclaimed Captain Elisha. “I declare, you take me back a
long ways, Mr. Sylvester. Caviar! Well, well! Why, I haven’t ate this
since I used to go to Cronstadt. At the American consul’s house there we
had it often enough. Has a kind of homey taste even yet. That consul was
a good feller. He and I were great friends.

“I met him a long spell after that, when I was down in Mexico,” he
went on. “He’d made money and was down on a vacation. My ship was at
Acapulco, and he and I used to go gunnin’ together, after wild geese
and such. Ho! ho! I remember there was a big, pompous critter of an
Englishman there. Mind you, I’m not talkin’ against the English. Some of
the best men I ever met were English, and I’ve stood back to back with
a British mate on a Genoa wharf when half of Italy was hoppin’ around
makin’ proclamations that they was goin’ to swallow us alive. And,
somehow or ‘nother, they didn’t. Took with prophetic indigestion, maybe.

“However, this Englishman at Acapulco was diff’rent. He was so swelled
with importance that his back hollered in like Cape Cod Bay on the map.
His front bent out to correspond, though, so I cal’late he averaged up
all right. Well, he heard about what a good--that I was pretty lucky
when it come to shootin’ wild geese, and I’m blessed if he didn’t send
me orders to get him one for a dinner he was goin’ to give. Didn’t
ask--_ordered_ me to do it, you understand. And him nothin’ but a
consignee, with no more control over me than the average female
Sunday-school teacher has over a class of boys. Not so much, because
she’s supposed to have official authority, and he wa’n’t. _And_ he
didn’t invite me to the dinner.

“Well, the next time my friend, the ex-consul, and I went out gunnin’,
I told him of the Englishman’s ‘orders.’ He was mad. ‘What are you goin’
to do about it?’ he asks. ‘Don’t know yet,’ says I, ‘we’ll see.’ By and
by we come in sight of one of them long-legged cranes, big birds you
know, standin’ fishin’ at the edge of some reeds. I up with my gun and
shot it. The consul chap looked at me as if I was crazy. ‘What in the
world did you kill that fish-basket on stilts for?’ he says. ‘Son,’
says I, ‘your eyesight is bad. That’s a British-American goose. Chop off
about three feet of neck and a couple of fathom of hind legs and pick
and clean what’s left, and I shouldn’t wonder if ‘twould make a good
dinner for a mutual friend of ours--good _enough_, anyhow.’ Well, sir!
that ex-consul set plump down in the mud and laughed and laughed. Ho,
ho! Oh, dear me!”

“Did you send it to the Englishman?” asked Sylvester.

“Oh, yes, I sent it. And, after a good while and in a roundabout way, I
heard that the whole dinner party vowed ‘twas the best wild goose
they ever ate. So I ain’t sure just who the joke was on. However, I’m
satisfied with my end. Well, there! I guess you must think I’m pretty
talky on short acquaintance, Mr. Sylvester. You’ll have to excuse me;
that caviar set me to thinkin’ about old times.”

His host was shaking all over. “Go ahead, Captain,” he cried. “Got any
more as good as that?”

But Captain Elisha merely smiled and shook his head.

“Don’t get me started on Mexico,” he observed. “I’m liable to yarn
all the rest of the afternoon. Let’s see, we was goin’ to talk over my
brother’s business a little mite, wa’n’t we?”

“Why, yes, we should. Now, Captain Warren, just how much do you know
about your late brother’s affairs?”

“Except what Mr. Graves told me, nothin’ of importance. And, afore we go
any further, let me ask a question. Do _you_ know why ‘Bije made me his
executor and guardian and all the rest of it?”

“I do not. Graves drew his will, and so, of course, we knew of your
existence and your appointment. Your brother forbade our mentioning it,
but we did not know, until after his death, that his own children were
unaware they had an uncle. It seems strange, doesn’t it?”

“It does to me; _so_ strange that I can’t see two lengths ahead. I
cal’late Mr. Graves told you how I felt about it?”

“Yes. That is, he said you were very much surprised.”

“That’s puttin’ it mild enough. And did he tell you that ‘Bije and I
hadn’t seen each other, or even written, in eighteen years?”

“Yes.”

“Um-hm. Well, when you consider _that_, can you wonder I was set all
aback? And the more I think of it, the foggier it gets. Why, Mr.
Sylvester, it’s one of them situations that are impossible, that you
can prove fifty ways _can’t_ happen. And yet, it has--it sartinly has.
Now tell me: Are you, or your firm, well acquainted with my brother’s
affairs?”

“Not well, no. The late Mr. Warren was a close-mouthed man, rather
secretive, in fact.”

“Humph! that bein’ one of the p’ints where he was different from his
nighest relation, hey?”

“I’m not so sure. Have you questioned the children?”

“Caroline and Steve? Yes, I’ve questioned ‘em more than they think I
have, maybe. And they know--well, leavin’ out about the price of oil
paintin’s and the way to dress and that it’s more or less of a disgrace
to economize on twenty thousand a year, their worldly knowledge ain’t
too extensive.”

“Do you like them?”

“I guess so. Just now ain’t the fairest time to judge ‘em. You see
they’re sufferin’ from the joyful shock of their country relation
droppin’ in, and--”

He paused and rubbed his chin. His lips were smiling, but his eyes were
not. Sylvester noted their expression, and guessed many things.

“They haven’t been disagreeable, I hope?” he asked.

“No-o. No, I wouldn’t want to say that. They’re young and--and, well,
I ain’t the kind they’ve been used to. Caroline’s a nice girl. She is,
sure. All she needs is to grow a little older and have the right kind of
advice and--and friends.”

“How about the boy?” Mr. Sylvester had met young Warren, and his eyes
twinkled as he spoke.

“Steve? Well,” there was an answering twinkle in Captain Elisha’s eye;
“well, Steve needs to grow, too; though I wouldn’t presume to tell him
so. When a feller’s undertakin’ to give advice to one of the seven wise
men, he has to be diplomatic, as you might say.”

The lawyer put back his head and laughed uproariously.

“Ha! ha!” he crowed. “That’s good! Then, from your questioning of the
children, you’ve learned--?”

“Not such an awful lot. I think I’ve learned that--hum! that a good
guardian might be a handy thing to have in the house. A reg’lar legal
guardian, I mean. Otherwise--”

“Otherwise?”

“Otherwise there might be too many disinterested volunteer substitutes
for the job. Maybe I’m wrong, but I doubt it.”

“Have you made up your mind to be that guardian?”

“Not yet. I haven’t made up my mind to anything yet. Now, Mr. Sylvester,
while we’re waitin’ for what comes next--you’ve ordered enough grub
to victual a ship--s’pose you just run over what your firm knows about
‘Bije. That is, if I ain’t askin’ too much.”

“Not at all. That’s what I’m here for. You have a right to know. But I
warn you my information isn’t worth much.”

He went on, briefly and with the conciseness of the legal mind, to tell
of A. Rodgers Warren, his business and his estate. He had been a broker
with a seat on the Stock Exchange.

“That seat is worth consider’ble, ain’t it?” interrupted the captain.

“Between eighty and one hundred thousand dollars.”

“Yup. Well, it reminds me of a picture I saw once in one of the comic
papers. An old feller from the backwoods somewheres--good deal like me,
he was, and just about as green--was pictured standin’ along with
his city nephew in the gallery of the Exchange. And the nephew says,
‘Uncle,’ says he, ‘do you realize that a seat down there’s wuth
seventy-five thousand dollars?’ ‘Gosh!’ says the old man, ‘no wonder
most of ‘em are standin’ up.’ Ho! ho! Is that seat of ‘Bije’s part of
the five hundred thousand you figger he’s left?”

“Yes, in a way it is. To be truthful, Captain Warren, we’re not sure as
to the amount of your brother’s tangible assets. Graves made a hurried
examination of the stocks, bonds, and memoranda, and estimated the
total, that’s all.”

“I see. Well, heave ahead.”

The lawyer went on. The dead broker’s office had been on Broad Street.
A small office, with but two clerks. One of the clerks was retained,
and the office, having been leased for a year by its former tenant,
was still open pending the settlement of the estate. A. Rodgers Warren
personally was a man who looked older than he really was, a good liver,
and popular among his companions.

“What sort of fellers were his companions?” asked Captain Elisha.

“You mean his friends in society, or his companions downtown in Wall
Street?”

“The Wall Street ones. I guess I can find out something about the
society ones. Anyhow, I can try. These Wall Streeters that ‘Bije chummed
with--a quiet lot, was they?”

Sylvester hesitated. “Why--why--not particularly so,” he admitted.
“Nothing crooked about them, of course. You see, a stock-broker’s life
is a nerve-racking, rather exciting one, and--”

“And ‘Bije and his chums were excited, too, hey? All right, you needn’t
go any further. He was a good husband while his wife lived, wa’n’t he?”

“Yes. Frankly, Captain Warren, so far as I know, your brother’s personal
habits were good. There was nothing against his character.”

“I’m mighty glad to hear it. Mighty glad. Is there anything else you can
tell me?”

“No. Our next move, provided you decide to accept the trust, the
executorship, and the rest, is to get together--you and Graves, if he is
well enough; you and I if he is not--and begin a careful examination of
the stocks, bonds, assets, and debts of the estate. This must be done
first of all.”

“Graves hinted there wa’n’t any debts, to amount to anything.”

“So far as we can see, there are none, except a few trifling bills.”

“Yes, yes. Hum!” Captain Elisha put down his coffee spoon and seemed to
be thinking. He shook his head.

“You appear to be puzzled about something,” observed the lawyer, who was
watching him intently.

“I am. I was puzzled afore I left home, and I’m just as puzzled now.”

“What puzzles you? if I may ask.”

“Everything. And, if you’ll excuse my sayin’ so, Mr. Sylvester, I guess
it puzzles you, too.”

He returned his host’s look. The latter pushed back his chair,
preparatory to rising.

“It is all so perfectly simple, on the face of it, Captain Warren,” he
said. “Your brother realized that he must die, that his children and
their money must be taken care of; you were his nearest relative;
his trust in your honesty and judgment caused him to overlook the
estrangement between you. That’s the case, isn’t it?”

“Yes. That’s the case, on the face of it, as you say. But you’ve forgot
to mention one item.”

“What’s that?”

“‘Bije himself. You knew him pretty well, I can see that. So did I. And
I guess that’s why we’re both puzzled.”

Captain Elisha folded his napkin with care and stood up. Sylvester rose,
also.

“Come downstairs,” he said. “We can enjoy our cigars more comfortably
there, and go on with our talk. That is, unless you’re in a great
hurry.”

“No, I ain’t in any special hurry. So I get up to Caroline’s in season
for supper--er, dinner, I mean--I don’t care. But I don’t want to keep
you. You’re a busy man.”

“This is business. This way, Captain.”

The big lounging room of the club, on the first floor, Fifth Avenue
side, was almost empty when they entered it. The lawyer drew two big
chairs near the open fire, rang the bell, and ordered cigars. After
the cigars were lighted and the fragrant clouds of tobacco smoke were
rising, he reopened the conversation. And now, in an easy, diplomatic
way, he took his turn at questioning.

It was pretty thorough pumping, managed with the skill of an experienced
cross-examiner. Captain Elisha, without realizing that he was doing so,
told of his boyhood, his life at sea, his home at South Denboro, his
position in the village, his work as selectman, as member of the school
committee, and as director in the bank. The tone of the questioner
expressed nothing--he was too well trained for that--but every item of
information was tabulated and appraised.

The tall mahogany-cased clock struck three, then four. The lawyer
finished his cigar and lit another. He offered a fresh one to his guest,
but the offer was declined.

“No, thank you,” observed the captain. “I’ve been yarnin’ away so
fast that my breath’s been too busy to keep this one goin’. There’s
consider’ble left yet. This is a better smoke than I’m used to
gettin’ at the store down home. I tell Ryder--he’s our storekeeper and
postmaster--that he must buy his cigars on the reel and cut ‘em off with
the scissors. When the gang of us all got a-goin’ mail times, it smells
like a rope-walk burnin’ down. Ho! ho! It does, for a fact. Yet I kind
of enjoy one of his five-centers, after all. You can get used to most
anything. Maybe it’s the home flavor or the society. P’raps they’d taste
better still if they was made of seaweed. I’ll trouble you for a match,
Mr. Sylvester. Two of ‘em, if you don’t mind.”

He whittled one match to a point with his pocket knife, impaled the
cigar stump upon it, and relit with the other.

Meanwhile the room had been filling up. Around each of the big windows
overlooking the Avenue were gathered groups of men, young and old,
smoking, chatting, and gazing idly out. Captain Elisha regarded them
curiously.

“This ain’t a holiday, is it?” he asked, after a while.

“No. Why?”

“I was just wonderin’ if all those fellers hadn’t any work to do, that’s
all.”

“Who? That crowd?” The lawyer laughed. “Oh, they’re doing their regular
stunt. You’ll find most of them here every afternoon about this time.”

“You don’t say. Pay ‘em wages for it, do you?”

“Not that I know of. Some of them are brokers, who come up after the
Exchange closes. Others are business men, active or retired. Some don’t
have any business--except what they’re doing now.”

“I want to know! Humph! They remind me of the gang in the billiard-room
back home. The billiard-roomers--the chronic ones--don’t have any
business, either, except to keep the dust from collectin’ on the chairs.
That and talkin’ about hard times. These chaps don’t seem to be
sufferin’ from hard times, much.”

“No. Most of the younger set have rich fathers or have inherited money.”

“I see. They let the old man do the worryin’. That’s philosophy, anyhow.
What are they so interested in outside? Parade goin’ by?”

“No. I imagine an unusually pretty girl passed just then.”

“Is that so? Well, well! Say, Mr. Sylvester, the longer I stay in
New York the more I see that the main difference between it and South
Denboro is size. The billiard-room gang acts just the same way when the
downstairs school teacher goes past. Hello!”

“What is it?”

“That young chap by the mizzen window looks sort of familiar to me. The
one that stood up to shake a day-day to whoever was passin’. Hum! He’s
made a hit, ain’t he? I expect some unprotected female’s heart broke at
that signal. I cal’late I know him.”

“Who? Which one? Oh, that’s young Corcoran Dunn. He is a lady-killer, in
his own estimation. How d’ye do, Dunn.”

The young man turning grinning from the window, caught a glimpse of the
lawyer as the latter rose to identify him. He strolled over to the fire.

“Hello, Sylvester,” he hailed, carelessly. “That was a peach. You should
have seen her. What? Why, it’s the Admiral!”

“How d’ye do, Mr. Dunn,” said Captain Elisha.

“Have you two met before?” asked Sylvester in astonishment.

“Yes. I had the pleasure of assisting in the welcoming salute when our
seafarin’ friend come aboard. How was that, Captain? Some nautical class
to that remark?”

“Yup. You done fust rate, considerin’ how recent you shipped.”

“Thanks. Overwhelmed, I’m sure.” Then, with a look of languid amusement
at the pair, “What is this--a meeting of the Board of Naval Affairs?
Have you bought a yacht, Sylvester?”

“No.” The lawyer’s tone was sharp.

“Humph! Well, take my advice and don’t. Yachts are all right, to have
a good time on, but they cost like the devil to keep up. An auto is bad
enough. By the way, Sylvester, did you hear about my running over the
Irishman this morning?”

“Running over?” repeated the captain, aghast. “You didn’t run over
nobody, I hope.”

“Well, I came devilish near it. Ha! ha! You see, the old tarrier
was crossing Saint Nicholas Avenue, with a big market basket full
of provisions--the family dinner, I suppose. By Jove, the household
appetites must be good ones. It was slippery as the mischief, I was
running the car, and I tried to go between the fellow and the curb.
It would have been a decent bit of steering if I’d made it. But--ha!
ha!--by Jove, you know, I didn’t. I skidded. The man himself managed
to hop out of the way, but his foot slipped, and down he went. Most
ridiculous thing you ever saw. And the street! ‘Pon my word it was paved
with eatables.”

Sylvester, plainly annoyed, did not reply. But Captain Elisha’s concern
was evident.

“The poor critter!” he exclaimed. “What did you do?”

“The last I saw of him he was sitting in the mud, looking at the upset.
I didn’t linger. Peters took the wheel, and we beat it. Lucky the cop
didn’t spot the license number. Might have cost me fifty. They’ve had me
up for speeding twice before. What are you and the Admiral discussing,
Sylvester?”

“We were discussing a business matter,” answered the lawyer, with
significant emphasis.

“Business? Why, sure! I forgot that you were Graves’s partner. Settling
the family affairs, hey? Well, I won’t butt in. Ta, ta! See you later,
Captain. You must go for a spin in that car of mine. I’ll call for you
some day. I’ll show you something they don’t do on Cape Cod. Regards to
Caro and Steve.”

He moved off, feeling that his invitation would have met with his
mother’s approval. She had announced that the country uncle was to be
“cultivated.”

Captain Elisha’s cigar had gone out. He did not attempt to relight it.

“Whew!” he whistled. “Well, when I go for a ‘spin,’ as he calls it, with
_him_, I cal’late my head’ll be spinnin’ so I won’t be responsible for
my actions. Whew!”

Sylvester looked curiously at him.

“So you met him before?” he asked.

“Yes. He was at the rooms when I fust landed. Or his mother was there
then. He came a little later with Caroline and Stephen.”

“I see.”

“Yes. Know him and his ma pretty well, do you?”

“Slightly. I’ve met them, at mutual acquaintances’ homes and about
town.”

“Pretty well fixed, I s’pose, ain’t they?”

“I presume so. I don’t know.”

“Um. He’s a sociable young feller, ain’t he? Don’t stand on any
ceremony, hey? Caro and Steve think a lot of him and his mother.”

“Yes. Graves has told me the Dunns were very intimate with the Warrens.
In fact, just before your brother’s death, I remember hearing a rumor
that the two families might be even closer connected.”

“You mean--er--Caroline and--er--him?”

“There was such a rumor. Probably nothing in it. There is no engagement,
I am very sure.”

“Yes, yes, I see. Well, Mr. Sylvester, I must be trottin’ on. I’ll
think the whole business over for another day or so and then give you my
decision, one way or the other.”

“You can’t give it now?”

“No-o. I guess I’d better not. However, I think--”

“Yes.”

“Well, I think I may take the job. Take it on trial, anyhow.”

“Good! I’m glad of it.”

“You _are_?”

“I certainly am. And I’m very glad indeed to have made your
acquaintance, Captain Warren. Good afternoon. I shall hope to see you
again soon.”

Captain Elisha left the Central Club in a surprised frame of mind. What
surprised him was that a man of such thorough city training and habits
as the senior partner of the law firm should express pleasure at the
idea of his accepting the charge of A. Rodgers Warren’s heirs and
estate. Mr. Graves had shown no such feeling.

If he had heard Sylvester’s report to Kuhn, at the office next day, he
might have been even more surprised and pleased.

“He’s a brick, Kuhn,” declared the senior partner. “A countryman, of
course, but a keen, able, honest man, and, I think, a mighty good judge
of character. If I was as sure of his ability to judge investments and
financial affairs, I should be certain the Warren children couldn’t be
in better hands. And no doubt we can help him when it comes to that.
He’ll probably handle the girl and boy in his own way, and his outside
greenness may jar them a little. But it’ll do them good to be jarred at
their age. He’s all right, and I hope he accepts the whole trust.”

“Well,” exclaimed Mr. Kuhn; “you surprise me. Graves seemed to be--”

“Graves suffers from the absolute lack of a sense of humor. His path
through life is about three feet wide and bordered with rock-ribbed
conventionality. If a man has a joke in his system, Graves doesn’t
understand it and is suspicious. I tell, you, Kuhn, there’s more honest
common sense and ability in the right hand of this Down-East salt than
there ever was in Rodgers Warren’s whole body.”




CHAPTER VII


During the next day Caroline Warren and her brother saw little of their
uncle. Not that they complained of this or sought his society. The
policy of avoidance and what Stephen called “freezing out” had begun,
and the young people kept to themselves as much as possible. At
breakfast Caroline was coldly polite, and her brother cold, although
his politeness was not overdone. However, Captain Elisha did not seem to
notice. He was preoccupied, said but little, and spent the forenoon in
writing a second letter to Miss Abigail. In it he told of his experience
on board the _Empress of the Ocean_ and of the luncheon at the Central
Club. But he said nothing concerning his nephew and niece further than
the statement that he was still getting acquainted, and that Caroline
was a real nice looking girl.

“I suppose you wonder what I’ve decided about taking the guardianship,”
 he added, just at the close. “Well, Abbie, I’m about in the position of
Luther Sylvester when he fell off the dock at Orham. The tide was out,
and he went into the soft mud, all under. When the folks who saw him
tumble got to the edge and looked over, they saw a round, black thing
sticking out of the mire, and, judging ‘twas Lute’s head, they asked him
how he felt. ‘I don’t know yet,’ sputters Lute, ‘whether I’m drowned or
smothered, but I’m somewheres betwixt and between.’ That’s me, Abbie, on
that guardian business. I’m still betwixt and between. But before this
day’s over I’ll be drowned or smothered, and I’ll let you know which
next time I write.”

After lunch he took a stroll in the Park and passed up and down the
paths, thinking, thinking. Returning, he found that Caroline and Stephen
had gone for an auto ride with the Dunns and would not be home for
dinner. So he ate that meal in solitary state, waited upon by Edwards.

That evening, as he sat smoking in the library, the butler appeared to
announce a caller.

“Someone to see you, sir,” said Edwards. “Here’s his card, sir.”

“Eh? Someone to see _me_? Guess you’ve made a mistake, haven’t you,
Commodore? I don’t know anybody who’d be likely to come visitin’ me here
in New York. Why, yes! Well, I declare! Tell him to walk right in. Mr.
Pearson, I’m glad to see you. This is real neighborly.”

The caller was young Pearson, the captain’s acquaintance of the previous
forenoon. They shook hands heartily.

“Perhaps you didn’t think I should accept that invitation of yours,
Captain Warren,” observed Pearson. “I told you I meant it when I said
yes. And calling within thirty-six hours is pretty good proof, isn’t
it?”

“Suits me fust-rate. I’m mighty glad you came. Set right down. Lonesome
at the boardin’ house, was it?”

Pearson made a grimace. “Lonesome!” he repeated. “Ugh! Let’s talk of
something else. Were you in time for your appointment yesterday noon?”

“Why, yes; I was and I wasn’t. Say, won’t you have a cigar? That’s
right. And I s’pose, bein’ as this is New York, I’d ought to ask you to
take somethin’ to lay the dust, hey? I ain’t made any inquiries myself,
but I shouldn’t wonder if the Commodore--the feller that let you
in--could find somethin’ in the spare room closet or somewheres, if I
ask him.”

The young man laughed. “If you mean a drink,” he said, “I don’t care for
it, thank you.”

“What? You ain’t a teetotaler, are you?”

“No, not exactly. But--”

“But you can get along without it, hey? So can I; generally do, fur’s
that goes. But _I’m_ from South Denboro. I thought here in New York--”

“Oh, there are many people, even here in New York, who are not convinced
that alcohol is a food.”

“You don’t tell me! Well, I’m livin’ and learnin’ every day. Judgin’
from stories and the yarns in the Boston newspapers, folks up our way
have the idea that this town is a sort of annex to the bad place. All
right, then we won’t trouble the Commodore. I notice you’re lookin’ over
my quarters. What do you think of ‘em?”

Pearson had, in spite of himself, been glancing about the room. Its
luxury and the evident signs of taste and wealth surprised him greatly.

“Astonish you to find me livin’ in a place like this, hey?”

“Why, why, yes, it does, somewhat. I didn’t realize you were such an
aristocrat, Captain Warren. If I had, I might have been a little more
careful of my dress in making my first call.”

“Dress? Oh, you mean you’d have put on your Sunday clothes. Well, I’m
glad you didn’t. You see, _I_ haven’t got on my regimentals, and if
you’d been on dress parade I might have felt bashful. Ho, ho! I don’t
wonder you are surprised. This is a pretty swell neighborhood, ain’t
it?”

“Yes, it is.”

“These--er--apartments, now. ‘Bout as good as any in town, are they?”

“Pretty nearly. There are few better--much better.”

“I thought so. You wouldn’t call livin’ in ‘em economizin’ to any
consider’ble extent, would you?”

“No,” with a laugh; “no, _I_ shouldn’t, but my ideas of economy
are--well, different. They have to be. Are you ecomomizing, Captain?”

Captain Elisha laughed and rubbed his knee.

“No,” he chuckled, “_I_ ain’t, but my nephew and niece are. These are
their rooms.”

“Oh, you’re visiting?”

“No, I don’t know’s you’d call it visitin’. I don’t know what you would
call it. I’m here, that’s about all you can say.”

He paused and remained silent. His friend was silent, also, not knowing
exactly what remark to make.

“How’s the novel comin’ on?” asked the captain, a minute later.

“Oh, slowly. I’m not at all sure it will ever be finished. I get
discouraged sometimes.”

“No use in doin’ that. What sort of a yarn is it goin’ to be? Give me a
gen’ral idea of the course you’re tryin’ to steer. That is, if it ain’t
a secret.”

“It isn’t. But there’s mighty little worth telling. When I began I
thought I had a good scheme, but it seems pretty weak and dish-watery
now.”

“Most things do while their bein’ done, if you really care about doin’
‘em well. Heave ahead! You said ‘twas a sea yarn, and I’m a sort of
specialist when it comes to salt water. Maybe I might prescribe just the
right tonic, though ‘tain’t very likely.”

Pearson began to outline the plot of his novel, speaking slowly at
first, but becoming more interested as he continued. Captain Elisha
listened meditatively, puffing solemnly at his cigar, and interrupting
but seldom.

“I think that’s a pretty good idea,” he observed, at length. “Yes,
sir, that sounds promisin’, to me. This cap’n of yours now, he’s a good
feller. Don’t get him too good, though; that wouldn’t be natural. And
don’t get him too bad, neither. I know it’s the fashion, judgin’ by the
sea yarns I’ve read lately, to have a Yankee skipper sort of a cross
between a prize fighter and a murderer. Fust day out of port he begins
by pickin’ out the most sickly fo’mast hand aboard, mashes him up, and
then takes the next invalid. I got a book about that kind of a skipper
out of our library down home a spell ago, and the librarian said ‘twas
awful popular. A strong story, she said, and true to life. Well, ‘twas
strong--you could pretty nigh smell it--but as for bein’ true to life,
I had my doubts. I’ve been to sea, command of a vessel, for a good many
years, and sometimes I’d go weeks, whole weeks, without jumpin’ up and
down on a single sailor. Fact! Got my exercise other ways, I presume
likely.

“I tell you,” he went on, “the main trouble with that tale of yours, as
I see it, is that you’re talkin’ about things you ain’t ever seen. Now
there’s plenty you have seen, I wouldn’t wonder. Let’s see, you was born
in Belfast, you said. Live there long, did you?”

“Yes, until I went away to school.”

“Your father, he went to sea, did he?”

“Yes. But his ship was lost, with all hands, when I was a baby.”

“But your Uncle Jim wa’n’t lost. You remember him well; you said so.
Tell me something you remember.”

Before the young man was aware of it, he was telling of his Uncle
Jim, of the latter’s return from voyages, of his own home life, of his
mother, and of the village where he spent his boyhood. Then, led on by
the captain’s questioning, he continued with his years at college, his
experiences as reporter and city editor. Without being conscious that
he was doing so, he gave his host a pretty full sketch of himself, his
story, and his ambitions.

“Mr. Pearson,” said Captain Elisha, earnestly, “don’t you worry about
that yarn of yours. If you’ll take the advice of an old feller who knows
absolutely nothin’ about such things, keep on rememberin’ about your
Uncle Jim. He was a man, every inch of him, and a seaman, too. Put lots
of him into this hero of yours, and you won’t go fur wrong. And when it
comes to handlin’ a ship, why--well, if you _want_ to come to me, I’ll
try and help you out best I can.”

Pearson was delighted.

“You _will_?” he cried. “Splendid! It’s mighty good of you. May I spring
some of my stuff on you as I write it?”

“Sartin you may. Any time, I’ll be tickled to death. I’ll be tickled to
have you call, too; that is, if callin’ on an old salt like me won’t be
too tirin’.”

The answer was emphatic and reassuring.

“Thank you,” said Captain Elisha. “I’m much obliged. Come often, do.
I--well, the fact is, I’m likely to get sort of lonesome myself, I’m
afraid. Yes, I shouldn’t wonder if I did.”

He sighed, tossed away the stump of his cigar, and added,

“Now, I want to ask you somethin’. You newspaper fellers are supposed to
know about all there is to know of everything under the sun. Do you know
much about the Stock Exchange?”

Pearson smiled.

“All I can afford to know,” he said.

“Humph! That’s a pretty good answer. Knowledge is power, they say,
but--but I cal’late knowledge of the Stock Exchange is poverty, with a
good many folks.”

“I think you’re right, Captain. It’s none of my business, but--were you
planning to tackle Wall Street?”

Captain Elisha glanced, under his brows, at his new friend, and his eyes
twinkled.

“Didn’t know but I might,” he replied, solemnly. “Ain’t got
any--er--tips, any sure things you want to put me on to, have you?”

“I have not. My experience of Wall Street ‘sure things’ leads me to
believe that they’re sure--but only for the other fellow.”

“Hum! I know a chap down home that made money in stocks. He made it so
easy that, as the boys say, ‘twas almost a shame to take the money. And
‘twas the makin’ of him, too.”

Pearson was embarrassed and troubled. If this big-hearted, simple-minded
countryman had come to New York to buck the stock market, it was time
to sound a warning. But had he, on such short acquaintance, the right to
warn? The captain was shrewd in his own way. Might not the warning seem
presumptuous?

“So--this--this friend of yours was a successful speculator, was he?” he
asked. “He was lucky.”

“Think so? Well, maybe. His name was Elkanah Chase, and his dad was old
man ‘Rastus Chase, who made consider’ble in cranberries and one thing
or ‘nother. The old man brought Elkanah up to be what he called a
gentleman. Ho! ho! Hi hum! I ain’t sure what ‘Rastus’s idea of
a gentleman was, but if he cal’lated to have his son a tramp in
go-to-meetin’ clothes, he got his wish. When the old man died, he willed
the boy fifteen thousand dollars. Well, fifteen thousand dollars is a
fortune to some folks--if they ain’t economizin’ in New York--but to
Elkanah ‘twas just about enough to make him realize his poverty. So,
to make it bigger, he got one of them ‘tips’ from a college friend down
here in Wall Street, and put the heft of ten thousand into it. _And_, I
swan, if it didn’t double his money!”

Captain Elisha’s visitor shook his head. He did not even smile.

“He was extremely fortunate,” he said. “I give you my word, Captain
Warren, that the majority of first speculators don’t turn out that way.
I hope he was wise enough to keep his profits.”

The captain rubbed his chin.

“Jim--” he began. “Excuse me, I should have said Mr. Pearson, but I’ve
got sort of in the habit of callin’ folks by their first names. Livin’
where you know everybody so well gets you into those habits.”

“Jim suits me. I hope you’ll cultivate the habit.”

“Do you? Well, I will. Now, Jim, referrin’ to what I was goin’ to say,
you, bein’ a newspaper man, ought to know everything, but it’s pretty
plain you don’t know Elkanah Chase. Keep his profits! Why, when a feller
is all but convinced that he knows it all, one little bit of evidence
like that speculation settles it for him conclusive. Elkanah, realizin’
that Wall Street was his apple pie, opened his mouth to swaller it at
one gulp. He put his profits and every other cent he had into another
sure thing tip.”

“And won again?”

“No. He lost all that and some more that he borrowed.”

“But I thought you said it was the making of him!”

“It was. He had to take a job over at the overalls factory in Ostable.
As a fifteen thousand dollar gentleman, he was pretty average of a mess,
but they tell me he makes middlin’ good overalls. Elkanah convinced me
that Wall Street has its good points.”

He chuckled. Pearson, relieved, laughed in sympathy. “Has he paid back
the money he borrowed?” he inquired.

“No-o! I guess the creditors’ll have to take it out in overalls.
However, it’s a satisfaction to some of ‘em to watch Chase really work.
I know that gives me _my_ money’s worth.”

“Oh, ho! You are one of the creditors! Captain Warren, I’m surprised. I
sized you up as a shrewder judge of investments.”

Captain Elisha colored. “I judged that one correct,” he answered. “If
I hadn’t thought ‘twould have turned out that way I never would have
plunged. You see, old man Chase was a friend of mine, and--However,” he
added, hastily changing the subject, “we’ve strayed some off the course.
When I mentioned the Stock Exchange I did it because my brother was a
member of it, and I cal’late you might have known him.”

Pearson was astonished. “Your brother was a member of the Exchange?” he
repeated.

“Um-hm. Never would have guessed it, would you? I s’pose you cal’late
all the stock I knew about was on the hoof. Well, I have been acquainted
with other breeds in my time. My brother’s name was Abijah Warren--A.
Rodgers Warren, he called himself.”

The effect of this announcement was instantaneous and electric. The
young man sat back in his chair.

“A. Rodgers Warren was your brother?” he cried.

“Um-hm. Seems to stagger you some. Contrast between us as big as all
that comes to?”

“But--but, Captain Warren--Your brother--Tell me, is Miss Caroline
Warren your niece?”

“She is. And Steve is my nephew. ‘Tain’t possible you’re acquainted with
them?”

Pearson rose to his feet. “Is--They used to live on the Avenue,” he
said. “But you said you were visiting. Captain Warren, is this your
niece’s apartment?”

“Yes, hers and Steve’s. Why, what’s the matter? Ain’t goin’, are you?”

“I think perhaps I had better. It is getting late.”

“Late! It’s only the shank of the evenin’. Jim, I ain’t so blind that I
can’t see through an open window. It ain’t the lateness that makes you
want to leave so sudden. Is there some trouble between you and Caroline?
Course, it’s none of my business, and you needn’t tell me unless you
want to.”

The answer was prompt enough.

“No,” replied Pearson. “No. I assure you there is nothing of that kind.
I--I met Miss Warren. In fact, at one time we were well acquainted. I
have the very highest opinion of her. But I think it is best to--”

“Just a minute now. No trouble with Steve? He’s a boy and at an age when
he’s pretty well satisfied with himself and you have to make allowance.”

“No. Steve and I were quite friendly. I’m sorry to cut my visit short,
but it is late and I _must_ go.”

He was moving toward the door. Captain Elisha looked at him intently.

“Well, if you must,” he said. “But I hope you’ll come again soon. Will
you?”

“I hope I may. I give you my word, Captain, that I appreciate your
invitation, and I do want to know you better.”

“Same here. I don’t often take sudden fancies, Jim, but I knew your
uncle, and I’d bet consider’ble on any member of his family. And I _was_
kind of interested in that novel of yours. You haven’t said you’d come
again. Will you?”

Pearson was much embarrassed.

“I should like to come, immensely,” he said, with an earnestness
unmistakable; “but--but, to be honest, Captain Warren, there is a
reason, one which I may tell you sometime, but can’t now--neither Miss
Warren nor her brother have any part in it--which makes me reluctant to
visit you here. Won’t you come and see me at the boarding house? Here’s
the address. _Will_ you come?”

“Sartin! I figured on doin’ it, if you gave me the chance.”

“Thank you, you’ll be welcome. Of course it is _only_ a boarding house,
and not a very good one. My own room is--well, different from this.”

“Yup. Maybe that’s why I expect to feel at home in it. Good night, Jim.
Thank you for callin’. Shall I ring for the Commodore to pilot you out?”

“No, I can find my way. I--Someone is coming.”

From the hall came the clang of the elevator door and the sound of
voices. Before the captain or his friend could move, Caroline, Stephen,
Mrs. Corcoran Dunn, and Malcolm entered. Caroline was the first to reach
the library. Her entrance brought her face to face with Pearson.

“I beg your pardon,” she began. “I did not know there was anyone here.”

“It’s only a friend of mine, Caroline,” explained her uncle, quickly.
“Just callin’ on me, he was.”

“Good evening, Miss Warren,” said Pearson, quietly.

The girl looked at him for an instant. Then her expression changed, and,
with a smile, she extended her hand.

“Why, Mr. Pearson!” she exclaimed. “I’m very glad to see you. You must
excuse me for not recognizing you at once. Steve, you remember Mr.
Pearson.”

Stephen also extended a hand.

“Sure!” he said. “Glad to see you again, Pearson. Haven’t met you for an
age. How are you?”

Pearson shook both the hands. He was embarrassed and hesitated in his
reply.

“It _has_ been some time since we met,” he said. “This is an unexpected
pleasure. Ah, Mr. Dunn, good evening.”

“It is Mr. Pearson, the financial writer of the _Planet_, Malcolm,”
 said Caroline. “You used to know him, I think.”

“Don’t remember, I’m sure. Yes, I do. Met you at the University Club,
didn’t I?”

“Yes. I was formerly a member.”

“And let me present you to Mrs. Corcoran Dunn,” went on the girl. “Mr.
Pearson used to know father well.”

Mrs. Dunn inspected the visitor through her lorgnette, and condescended
to admit that she was “delighted.”

“I’m very glad you called,” continued Caroline. “We were just in time,
weren’t we? Do sit down. And if you will wait a minute until we remove
our wraps--Steve ring for Edwards, please.”

“I’m afraid I can’t wait, Miss Warren. I dropped in to see your uncle,
at his invitation, and, as a matter of fact, I didn’t know--”

“To see our _uncle_!” interrupted Stephen, in amazement. “Who?”

“Your uncle, Captain Warren here,” explained Pearson, surprised in his
turn. “He and I made each other’s acquaintance yesterday, and he asked
me to call.”

“You--you called to see _him_?” repeated Stephen. “Why, what in the
world--?”

“I took the liberty of askin’ him, Caroline,” observed Captain Elisha
quietly, and ignoring the last speaker. “I didn’t know you knew him,
and I used to sail along with _his_ uncle, so he seemed almost like own
folks.”

“Oh!” Caroline’s manner changed. “I presume it was a business call,” she
said slowly. “I beg pardon for interrupting. We had not seen you since
father’s death, Mr. Pearson, and I assumed that you had called upon my
brother and me. Excuse me. Mrs. Dunn, we will go into the drawing-room.”

She led the way toward the apartment. Captain Elisha was about to speak.
Pearson, however, explained for him.

“Miss Warren,” he said, “if by a business call you mean one in the
interest of the _Planet_, I assure you that you are mistaken. I am no
longer connected with any paper. I met Captain Warren, under rather
unusual circumstances. We discovered that we had mutual friends and
mutual interests. He asked me to call on him, and I did so. I did not
know, until five minutes ago, that he was your uncle or that you and
your brother lived here. I beg you won’t leave the room on my account. I
was about to go when you came. Good evening.”

He bowed and stepped toward the hall. Captain Elisha laid a hand on his
arm and detained him.

“Just a minute,” he said. “Caroline, I want you and Steve to know that
what Mr. Pearson says is exactly true. I ain’t the kind to talk to the
newspapers about the private affairs of my relations, and, if I’m
any judge of character, Mr. Pearson, knowin’ you as it seems he does,
wouldn’t be the kind to listen. That’s all. Now, Jim, if you must go.”

He and his guest were at the door. Caroline and Mrs. Dunn were at the
opposite side of the room. Suddenly the girl halted, turned, and, moving
across to where her uncle and the young man were standing, once more
extended her hand.

“Mr. Pearson,” she said, impulsively, “again I ask your pardon. I should
have known. I am very sorry I spoke as I did. Will you forgive me?”

Pearson colored. His embarrassment was more evident than before.

“There is no occasion for apology, Miss Warren,” he said. “I don’t
wonder you thought I had come in my former capacity as reporter.”

“Yes, you do. You _must_ have wondered. I am very glad you called to see
my--my guardian, and I hope you will continue to do so. Father used to
speak so highly of you, and I’m sure he valued your friendship. Stephen
and I wish to consider his friends ours. Please believe that you are
welcome here at any time.”

Pearson’s reply was brief.

“Thank you, Miss Warren,” he said. “You are very kind. Good evening.”

In the hall, as they waited for the elevator, Captain Elisha, happier
than at any time since his arrival in New York, clapped his friend on
the shoulder.

“Jim,” he said, “I was beginnin’ to doubt my judgment of things and
folks. Now I feel better. That niece of mine has got the right stuff in
her. After _that_ invitation, you will come and see us once in a while.
That makes it easier, hey?”

Pearson shook his head. “I’m not sure, Captain,” he observed, slowly,
“that it doesn’t make it harder. I shall look for you at the boarding
house very soon. Don’t disappoint me. Good night.”

The captain’s last remark that evening was made to Edwards, whom he met
just outside the door of his bedroom.

“Commodore,” he said, “a barn full of rats is a nuisance, ain’t it?”

“Sir?” stammered the astonished butler.

“I say a barn full of rats is a nuisance.”

“Why--why, yes, sir. I should think it might be, sir.”

“Yup. Well, I know a worse one. It’s a house full of mysteries. By, by,
Son. Pleasant dreams.”

He sat up until late, meditating profoundly. Then, taking from its
envelope the letter yet unsealed, which he had written to Miss Abigail
Baker, he added this postscript:

    “Eleven o’clock. I have decided, Abbie, to accept the
    guardianship and the rest of it, for a spell, anyhow. Shall
    notify the lawyers in the morning. Necessity is one thing,
    and pleasure is another. I doubt if I find the job pleasant,
    but I guess it is necessary. Anyhow, it looks that way to
    me.”




CHAPTER VIII


Announcement of Captain Elisha’s decision followed quickly. Sylvester,
Kuhn, and Graves received the telephone message stating it, and
the senior partner was unqualifiedly delighted. Kuhn accepted his
associate’s opinion with some reservation. “It is an odd piece of
business, the whole of it,” he declared. “I shall be curious to see how
it works out.” As for Mr. Graves, when the information was conveyed
to him by messenger, he expressed disgust and dismay. “Ridiculous!” he
said. “Doctor, I simply must be up and about within the next few days.
It is necessary that a sane, conservative man be at the office. Far
be it from me to say a word against Sylvester, as a lawyer, but he is
subject to impressions. I imagine this Cape Codder made him laugh, and,
therefore, in his opinion, is all right. I’m glad I’m not a joker.”

The captain said that he would be down later on to talk things over.
Meanwhile, if the “papers and such” could be gotten together, it would
“sort of help along.” Sylvester explained that there were certain legal
and formal ceremonies pertaining to the acceptance of the trust to be
gone through with, and these must have precedence. “All right,” answered
the captain. “Let’s have ‘em all out at once and get the ache and agony
over. I’ll see you by and by.”

When Mrs. Corcoran Dunn made her daily visit to the Warren apartment
that afternoon, she found Caroline alone and almost in tears. Captain
Elisha had broken the news at the table during luncheon, after which
he went downtown. Stephen, having raved, protested, and made himself
generally disagreeable and his sister correspondingly miserable, had
departed for the club. It was a time for confidences, and the wily Mrs.
Dunn realized that fact. She soothed, comforted, and within half an
hour, had learned the whole story. Caroline told her all, the strange
will, the disclosure concerning the country uncle, and the inexplicable
clauses begging the latter to accept the executorship, the trust, and
the charge of her brother and herself. Incidentally she mentioned that
a possible five hundred thousand was the extreme limit of the family’s
pecuniary resources.

“Now you know everything,” sobbed Caroline. “Oh, Mrs. Dunn, _you_ won’t
desert us, will you?”

The widow’s reply was a triumph, of its kind. In it were expressed
sorrow, indignation, pity, and unswerving loyalty. Desert them? Desert
the young people, toward whom she had come to feel almost like a mother?
Never!

“You may depend on Malcolm and me, my dear,” she declared. “We are not
fair-weather friends. And, after all, it is not so very bad. Affairs
might be very much worse.”

“Worse! Oh, Mrs. Dunn, how could they be? Think of it! Stephen and I are
dependent upon him for everything. We must ask him for every penny. And
whatever he says to do we _must_ do. We’re obliged to. Just think! if he
decides to take us back with him to--South Denboro, or whatever dreadful
place he comes from, we shall have to go--and live there.”

“But he won’t, my dear. He won’t. It will take some time to settle your
father’s affairs, and the business will have to be transacted here in
New York.”

“I know. I suppose that’s true. But that doesn’t make it any easier.
If he stops here he will stay with us. And what shall we do? We can’t
introduce him to our friends, or, at least, to any except our best, our
understanding friends, like you and Malcolm.”

“Why, I’m not sure. He is rather--well--er--countryfied, but I believe
he has a good heart. He is not rude or unkind or anything of that sort,
is he?”

“No. No-o. He’s not that, at all. In fact, he means to be kind in his
way. But it’s such a different way from ours. He is not used to society;
he wouldn’t understand that certain things and ways were absolutely
essential. I suppose it isn’t his fault exactly, but that doesn’t help.
And how can we tell him?”

“I don’t know that you can tell him, but you might hint. Diplomacy, my
dear, is one of the necessary elements of life. Whatever else you
do remember to be diplomatic. My poor husband used to have a pet
proverb--he was interested in politics, my dear, and some of his sayings
were a trifle grotesque but very much to the point. He used to say that
one could get rid of more flies with molasses than with a club. And I
think he was right. Now let me consider. Let’s look the situation right
in the face. Of course your guardian, as a companion, as an associate
for us, for our kind of people, is, to be quite frank, impossible.”

“Yes. Yes, I’m sure he is.”

“Yes. But he _is_ your guardian. Therefore, we can’t get rid of him
with--well, with a club. He must be endured and made as endurable as
possible. And it certainly will not do to offend him.”

“Steve says we must do what he calls freezing him out--make him feel
that we do not want him here.”

“Hum! Well, Stephen is a nice boy--Malcolm adores him--but he isn’t a
diplomat. If we should--what is it?--freeze out your uncle--”

“Please call him something else.”

“Well, we’ll call him the encumbrance on the estate; that’s legal,
I believe, and expresses it nicely. If we should freeze out the
encumbrance, we _might_ freeze him to his village, and he _might_ insist
on your going with him, which wouldn’t do at _all_, my dear. For one
thing, Malcolm would probably insist on going, also, and I, for one,
don’t yearn for rural simplicity. Ha! ha! Oh, you mustn’t mind me. I’m
only a doting mamma, dearie, and I have my air castles like everyone
else. So, freezing out won’t do. No, you and Steve must be polite to our
encumbrance.”

“I shall not get on my knees to him and beg. That I sha’n’t do.”

“No one expects you to. If anyone begs it should be he. Condescend to
just a little. Make him feel his place. Correct him when he goes too far
wrong, and ignore him when he gets assertive. As for getting rid of him
at times when it may be necessary--well, I think you may safely leave
that to me.”

“To you? Oh, Mrs. Dunn, we couldn’t think of dragging you into it. It is
bad enough that we should be disgraced; but you must not be.”

“My dear child, I _think_ my position in society is sufficiently
established to warrant a risk or two. If _I_ am seen in company
with--with the encumbrance, people will merely say, ‘Oh, it’s another
of her eccentricities!’ that’s all. Now, don’t worry, and don’t fret all
that pretty color from your cheeks. Always remember this: it is but
for a year or a trifle over. Then you will be of age and can send your
encumbrance to the right-about in a hurry.”

Caroline, under the spell of this convincing eloquence, began to cheer
up. She even smiled.

“Well,” she said, “I will try to be diplomatic. I really will. But
Stephen--I’m not sure what dreadful thing _he_ will do.”

“He will return to college soon. I will take upon myself the convincing
of the encumbrance to that effect. And while he is at home, Malcolm will
take charge of him. He will be delighted to do it.”

“Mrs. Dunn, how can we ever thank you sufficiently? What should we do
without you and Malcolm?”

“I _hope_, my dear, that you will never have to do without me; not for
many years, at any rate. Of course, there is always my poor heart,
but--we won’t worry, will we?”

So, with a kiss and an embrace, this affecting interview ended.

There was another that evening between Mrs. Dunn and her son, which was
not devoid of interest. Malcolm listened to the information which his
mother gave him, and commented upon it in characteristic fashion.

“Humph!” he observed, “two hundred and fifty thousand, instead of the
two million you figured on, Mater! Two hundred and fifty thousand isn’t
so much, in these days.”

“No,” replied his parent, sharply, “it isn’t so much, but it isn’t so
little, either.”

“I suppose one can get along on it.”

“Yes, one can. In fact, I know of two who are managing with a good deal
less. Don’t be any more of a fool than you can help, Malcolm. The sum
itself isn’t small, and, besides, the Warrens are a family of standing.
To be connected with them is worth a good deal. There are infinite
possibilities in it. Oh, if only I might live to see the day when
tradespeople meant something other than nuisances to be dodged, I
_think_ I could die contented.”

“Caro’s a decent sort of a girl,” commented Malcolm, reflectively.

“She’s a bright girl and an attractive one. Just now she is in a mood to
turn to us, to you. But, for Heaven’s sake, be careful! She is delicate
and sensitive and requires managing. She likes you. If only you weren’t
such a blunderer!”

“Much obliged, Mater. You’re free with your compliments this evening.
What’s the trouble? Another ‘heart’?”

“No. My heart I can trust, up to certain limits. But I’m afraid of your
head, just as I always was of your father’s. And here’s one more bit of
advice: Be careful how you treat that country uncle.”

“The Admiral! Ho! ho! He’s a card.”

“He may be the trump that will lose us the trick. Treat him civilly;
yes, even cordially, if you can. And _don’t_ insult him as you did the
first time you and he met.”

The young man crossed his legs, and grunted in resignation.

“Well,” he said, “it’s going to be a confounded bore, but, at the very
longest, it’ll last but a year. Then Caro will be her own mistress.”

“Yes. But there are three hundred and sixty-five days in a year;
remember that.”

“All right, Mater. You can bet on me. The old hayseed and I will be
bosom pals. Wait and see.”

The formalities at the lawyers’ took some time. Captain Elisha was
absent from the apartment the better part of the following two days. The
evenings, however, he spent with his niece and nephew, and, if at all
sensitive to sudden changes of the temperature, he must have noticed
that the atmosphere of the library was less frigid. Caroline was not
communicative, did not make conversation, nor was she in the least
familiar; but she answered his questions, did not leave the room when he
entered, and seemed inclined to accept his society with resignation,
if not with enthusiasm. Even Stephen was less sarcastic and bitter. At
times, when his new guardian did or said something which offended his
highly cultivated sense of the proprieties, he seemed inclined to burst
out with a sneer; but a quick “ahem!” or a warning glance from his
sister caused him to remain silent and vent his indignation by kicking
a footstool or barking a violent order at the unresisting Edwards.
Caroline and her brother had had a heart to heart talk, and, as a
result, the all-wise young gentleman promised to make no more trouble
than he could help.

“Though, by gad, Caro,” he declared, “it’s only for you I do it! If I
had my way the old butt-in should understand exactly what I think of
him.”

On Thursday, after luncheon, as Captain Elisha sat in his own room,
reading a book he had taken from the library, there came a knock at the
door.

“Come ahead in!” ordered the captain. Caroline entered. Her uncle rose
and put down the book.

“Oh!” he exclaimed, “is it you? Excuse me. I thought ‘twas the
Commodore--Edwards, I mean. If I’d known you was comin’ callin’,
Caroline, I shouldn’t have been quite so bossy. Guess I’d have opened
the door for you, instead of lettin’ you do it yourself.”

“Thank you,” answered his niece. “I came to see you on--I suppose you
might call it business. At any rate, it is a financial matter. I sha’n’t
detain you long.”

Captain Elisha was a trifle disappointed.

“Oh,” he said, “on business, was it? I hoped--I didn’t know but you’d
come just out of sociability. However, I’m mighty glad to see you,
Caroline, no matter what it’s for. That’s a real becomin’ dress you’ve
got on,” he added, inspecting her admiringly. “I declare, you look
prettier every time I see you. You favor your pa consider’ble; I can see
it more and more. ‘Bije had about all the good looks there was in our
family,” with a chuckle. “Set down, do.”

The girl seated herself in a rocker, and looked at him for a moment
without speaking. She seemed to have something on her mind, and not to
know exactly how to express it.

“Captain Warren,” she began, “I--I came to ask a favor. I am obliged
to ask it, because you are our--” she almost choked over the hated
word--“our guardian, and I can no longer act on my own responsibility. I
wish to ask you for some money.”

Captain Elisha nodded gravely.

“I see,” he said. “Well, Caroline, I don’t believe you’ll find me very
close-fisted. I think I told you and Steve that you was to do just as
you’d been in the habit of doin’. Of course I _am_ your guardian now,
and I shall be held responsible for whatever expense comes to the
estate. Itvis quite a responsibility, and I so understand it. As I said
to you when I told you I’d decided to take the job on trial, _while_ I
have it it’ll be my pride to see that you or your brother don’t lose
anything. I intend, if the Almighty spares me so long and I keep on with
the trust, to turn over, when my term’s out, at least as much to you and
Steve as your father left. That’s all. Excuse me for mentioning it
again. Now, how much do you want? Is your reg’lar allowance too small?
Remember, I don’t know much about such things here in New York, and you
must be frank and aboveboard and tell me if you have any complaints.”

“I have no complaints. My allowance is sufficient. It is the same that
father used to give me, and it is all I need. But this is a matter
outside my personal needs.”

“Um-hm. Somethin’ to do with the household expenses, hey?”

“No. It is--is a matter of--well, of charity. It may amount to several
hundred dollars.”

“Yes, yes. I see. Charity, hey? Church?”

“No. One of the maids, Annie, has trouble at home, and I wanted to help
her.”

The captain nodded once more.

“Annie,” he repeated, “that’s the rosy-faced one? The Irish one?”

“Yes. Her father was seriously injured the other day and cannot work.
His hip is broken, and the doctor’s bill will be large. They are very
poor, and I thought perhaps--” She hesitated, faltered, and then said
haughtily: “Father was very sympathetic and liked to have me do such
things.”

“Sho! sho! Sartin! Course he did. I like it, too. I’m glad you came to
me just as you did, Caroline. How much do you want to start with?”

“I don’t know, exactly. I thought I might ask our own doctor to attend
to the case, and might send them some delicacies and food.”

“Good idea! Go right ahead, Caroline.”

“Thank you. I have been over to see them, and they need help--they
really do.”

“I presume likely. How’d the accident happen? Anybody’s fault, was it?”

Caroline’s eyes snapped. “Indeed it was!” she said, indignantly. “It
was a wet morning, after a rain, and the pavement was slippery. Mr.
Moriarty, Annie’s father, was not working that day--they were making
some repairs at the factory where he is employed, I believe--and he had
gone out to do the family marketing. He was crossing the street when an
automobile, recklessly driven, so everyone says, drove directly down on
him. He tried to jump out of the way and succeeded--otherwise he might
have been killed; but he fell and broke his hip. He is an old man, and
the case is serious.”

“Dear! dear! you don’t tell me! Poor old chap! The auto feller--did he
help? Seems to me he ought to be the one to be spendin’ the money. ‘Twas
his fault.”

“Help! Indeed he didn’t! He and the man with him merely laughed, as
if it was a good joke, put on speed, and disappeared as quickly as
possible.”

“Why, the mean swab! Did this Mr. Moriarty or the folks around get the
license number of the auto?”

“No. All they know is that it was a big yellow car with two men in it.”

“Hey? A yellow car?”

“Yes. Somewhat similar to the one Malcolm--Mr. Dunn drives.”

“So, so! Hum! Where did it happen?”

“On Saint Nicholas Avenue, near One Hundred and Twenty-Eighth Street.”

“Eh? Saint Nicholas Avenue, you say?”

“Yes.” Caroline rose and turned to go. “Thank you, Captain Warren,” she
said. “I will tell Doctor Henry to take the case at once.”

The captain did not answer immediately. With his chin in his hand he was
gazing at the floor.

“Good afternoon,” said Caroline.

Her uncle looked up.

“Er--Wait just a minute, Caroline,” he said. “I guess maybe, if you
don’t mind, I’d like to think this over a little afore you go too far.
You have your doctor go right ahead and see to the old man, and you
order the things to eat and whatever’s necessary. But afore you give
Annie or her father any money, I’d kind of like to figger a little
mite.”

His niece stopped short, turned and stared at him.

“Oh!” she said, slowly and icily, “I see. Please don’t trouble yourself.
I should have known. However, my allowance is my own, and I presume I am
permitted to do what I please with that.”

“Caroline, don’t be hasty. I ain’t sayin’ no about the money. Far from
it. I only--”

“I understand--thoroughly. Don’t trouble to ‘figure,’ as you call it.
Oh! _Why_ did I humiliate myself? I should have known!”

“Caroline, please--”

But the girl had gone, closing the door after her. Captain Elisha shook
his head, heaved a deep sigh, and then, sinking back into his chair,
relapsed into meditation. Soon afterward he put on his hat and coat and
went out.

Half an hour later he entered the office of a firm of commission brokers
on lower Broad Street, and inquired if a gentleman by the name of Mr.
Malcolm Dunn was connected with that establishment. On being answered in
the affirmative, he asked if Mr. Dunn were in. Yes, he was.

“Well,” said Captain Elisha, “I’d like to speak to him a minute or so.
Just tell him my name’s Warren, if you don’t mind, young feller.”

The clerk objected to being addressed as “young feller,” and showed his
disapp

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