transcriber's note: the book's frontispiece was missing. there were no other illustrations. how janice day won by helen beecher long author of "janice day the young homemaker," "the testing of janice day," "the mission of janice day," etc. illustrated by corinne turner the goldsmith publishing co. cleveland copyright, , by sully & kleinteich contents chapter i. trouble from near and far ii. "talky" dexter, indeed iii. "the seventh abomination" iv. a rift in the honeymoon v. "the bluebird--for happiness" vi. the tentacles of the monster vii. swept on by the current viii. real trouble ix. how nelson took it x. how polktown took it xi. "men must work while women must weep" xii. an unexpected emergency xiii. into the lion's den xiv. a declaration of war xv. and now it is distant trouble xvi. one matter comes to a head xvii. the opening of the campaign xviii. hopewell sells his violin xix. the gold coin xx. suspicions xxi. what was in the paper xxii. deep waters xxiii. joseph us comes out for prohibition xxiv. another gold piece xxv. in doubt xxvi. the tide turns xxvii. the tempest xxviii. the enemy retreats xxix. the truth at last xxx. marm parraday does her duty how janice day won chapter i trouble from near and far at the corner of high street, where the lane led back to the stables of the lake view inn, janice day stopped suddenly, startled by an eruption of sound from around an elbow of the lane--a volley of voices, cat-calls, and ear-splitting whistles which shattered polktown's usual afternoon somnolence. one youthful imitator expelled a laugh like the bleating of a goat: "na-ha-ha-ha! ho! jim nar-ha-nay! there's a brick in your hat!" another shout of laugher and a second boy exclaimed: "look out, old feller! you'll spill it!" all the voices seemed those of boys; but this was an hour when most of the town lads were supposed to be under the more or less eagle eye of mr. nelson haley, the principal of the polktown school. janice attended the middletown seminary, and this chanced to be a holiday at that institution. she stood anxiously on the corner now to see if her cousin, marty, was one of this crowd of noisy fellows. with stumbling feet, and with the half dozen laughing, mocking boys tailing him, a bewhiskered, rough-looking, shabby man came into sight. his appearance on the pleasant main thoroughfare of the little lakeside town quite spoiled the prospect. before, it had been a lovely scene. young spring, garbed only in the tender greens of the quickened earth and the swelling buds of maple and lilac, had accompanied janice day down hillside avenue into high street from the old day house where she lived with her uncle jason, her aunt 'mira, and marty. all the neighbors had seen janice and had smiled at her; and those whose eyes were anointed by romance saw spring dancing by the young girl's side. her eyes sparkled; there was a rose in either cheek; her trim figure in the brown frock, well-built walking shoes of tan, and pretty toque, was an effective bit of life in the picture, the background of which was the sloping street to the steamboat dock and the beautiful, blue, dancing waters of the lake beyond. an intoxicated man on the streets of polktown during the three years of janice day's sojourn here was almost unknown. there had been no demand for the sale of liquor in the town until lem parraday, proprietor of the lake view inn, applied to the town council for a bar license. the request had been granted without much opposition. mr. cross moore, president of the council, held a large mortgage on the parraday premises, and it was whispered that this fact aided in putting the license through in so quiet a way. it was agreed that polktown was growing. the "boom" had started some months before. already the sparkling waters of the lake were plied by a new _constance colfax_, and the c. v. railroad was rapidly completing its branch which was to connect polktown with the eastern seaboard. whereas in the past a half dozen traveling men might visit the town in a week and put up at the inn, there had been through this winter a considerable stream of visitors. and it was expected that the inn, as well as every house that took boarders in the town, would be well patronized during the coming summer. to janice day the winter had been lovely. she had been very busy. well had she fulfilled her own tenet of "do something." in service she found continued joy. janice loved polktown, and almost everybody in polktown loved her. at least, everybody knew her, and when these young rascals trailing the drunken man spied the accusing countenance of janice they fell back in confusion. she was thankful her cousin marty was not one of them; yet several, she knew, belonged to the boys' club, the establishment of which had led to the opening of polktown's library and free reading-room. however, the boys pursued tim narnay no farther. they slunk back into the lane, and finally, with shrill whoops and laughter, disappeared. the besotted man stood wavering on the curbstone, undecided, it seemed, upon his future course. janice would have passed on. the appearance of the fellow merely shocked and disgusted her. her experience of drunkenness and with drinking people, had been very slight indeed. gossip's tongue was busy with the fact that several weak or reckless men now hung about the lake view inn more than was good for them; and janice saw herself that some boys had taken to loafing here. but nobody in whom she was vitally interested seemed in danger of acquiring the habit of using liquor just because lem parraday sold it. the ladies of the sewing society of the union church missed "marm" parraday's brown face and vigorous tongue. it was said that she strongly disapproved of the change at the inn, but lem had overruled her for once. "and, poor woman!" thought janice now, "if she has to see such sights as this about the inn, i don't wonder that she is ashamed." the train of her thought was broken at the moment, and her footsteps stayed. running across the street came a tiny girl, on whose bare head the spring sunshine set a crown of gold. such a wealth of tangled, golden hair janice had never before seen, and the flowerlike face beneath it would have been very winsome indeed had it been clean. she was a neglected-looking little creature; her patched clothing needed repatching, her face and hands were begrimed, and---- "goodness only knows when there was ever a comb in that hair!" sighed janice. "i would dearly love to clean her up and put something decent to wear upon her, and----" she did not finish her wish because of an unexpected happening. the little girl came so blithely across the street only to run directly into the wavering figure of the intoxicated jim narnay. she screamed as narnay seized her by one thin arm. "what ye got there?" he demanded, hoarsely, trying to catch the other tiny, clenched fist. "oh! don't do it! don't do it!" begged the child, trying her best to slip away from his rough grasp. "ye got money, ye little sneak!" snarled the man, and he forced the girl's hand open with a quick wrench and seized the dime she held. he flung her aside as though she had been a wisp of straw, and she would have fallen had not janice caught her. indignantly the older girl faced the drunken ruffian. "you wicked man! how can you? give her back that money at once! why, you--you ought to be arrested!" "aw, g'wan!" growled the fellow. "it's my money." he stumbled back into the lane again--without doubt making for the rear door of the inn barroom from which he had just come. the child was sobbing. "wait!" exclaimed janice, both eager and angry now. "don't cry. i'll get your ten cents back. i'll go right in and tell mr. parraday and he'll make him give it up. at any rate he won't give him a drink for it." the child caught janice's skirt with one grimy hand. "don't--don't do that, miss," she said, soberly. "why not?" "'twon't do no good. pop's all right when he's sober, and he'll be sorry for this. i oughter kep' my eyes open. ma told me to. i could easy ha' dodged him if i'd been thinkin'. but--but that's all ma had in the house and she needed the meal." "he--he is your father?" gasped janice. "oh, yes. i'm sophie narnay. that's pop. and he's all right when he's sober," repeated the child. janice day's indignation evaporated. now she could feel only sympathy for the little creature that was forced to acknowledge such a man for a parent. "ma's goin' to be near 'bout distracted," sophie pursued, shaking her tangled head. "that's the only dime she had." "never mind," gasped janice, feeling the tears very near to the surface. "i'll let you have the dime you need. is--is your papa always like that?" "oh, no! oh, no! he works in the woods sometimes. but since the tavern's been open he's been drinkin' more. ma says she hopes it'll burn down," added sophie, with perfect seriousness. suddenly janice felt that she could echo that desire herself. ethically two wrongs do not make a right; but it is human nature to see the direct way to the end and wish for it, not always regarding ethical considerations. janice became at that moment converted to the cause of making polktown a dry spot again on the state map. "my dear!" she said, with her arm about the tangle-haired little sophie, "i am sorry for--for your father. maybe we can all help him to stop drinking. i--i hope he doesn't abuse you." "he's awful good when he's sober," repeated the little thing, wistfully. "but he ain't been sober much lately." "how many are there of you, sophie?" "there's ma and me and johnny and eddie and the baby. we ain't named the baby. ma says she ain't sure we'll raise her and 'twould be no use namin' her if she ain't going to be raised, would it?" "no-o--perhaps not," admitted janice, rather startled by this philosophy. "don't you have the doctor for her?" "once. but it costs money. and ma's so busy she can't drag clean up the hill to doc poole's office very often. and then--well, there ain't been much money since pop come out of the woods this spring." her old-fashioned talk gave janice a pretty clear insight into the condition of affairs at the narnay house. she asked the child where she lived and learned the locality (down near the shore of pine cove) and how to get to it. she made a mental note of this for a future visit to the place. "here's another dime, sophie," she said, finding the cleanest spot on the little girl's cheek to kiss. "your father's out of sight now, and you can run along to the store and get the meal." "you're a good 'un, miss," declared sophie, nodding. "come and see the baby. she's awful pretty, but ma says she's rickety. good-bye." the little girl was away like the wind, her broken shoes clattering over the flagstones. janice looked after her and sighed. there seemed a sudden weight pressing upon her mind. the sunshine was dimmed; the sweet odors of spring lost their spice in her nostrils. instead of strolling down to the dock as she had intended, she turned about and, with lagging step, took her homeward way. the sight of this child's trouble, the thought of narnay's weakness and what it meant to his unfortunate family, brought to mind with crushing force janice's own trouble. and this personal trouble was from afar. amid the kaleidoscopic changes in mexican affairs, janice's father had been laboring for three years and more to hold together the mining properties conceded to him and his fellow-stockholders by the administration of porfirio diaz. in the battle-ridden state of chihuahua mr. broxton day was held a virtual prisoner, by first one warring faction and then another. at one time, being friendly with a certain chief of the belligerents, mr. day had taken out ore and had had the mine in good running condition. some money had flowed into the coffers of the mining company. janice benefited in a way during this season of plenty. now, of late, the yaquis had swept down from the mountains, mr. day's laborers had run away, and his own life was placed in peril again. he wrote little about his troubles to his daughter, living so far away in the vermont village, but his bare mention of conditions was sufficient to spur janice's imagination. she was anxious in the extreme. "if daddy would only come home on a visit as he had expected to this spring!" was the longing thought now in her mind. "oh, dear me! what matter if the season does change? it won't bring him back to me. i'd--i'd sell my darling car and take the money and run away to him if i dared!" this was a desperate thought indeed, for the kremlin automobile her father had bought janice the year before remained the apple of her eye. that very morning marty had rolled it out of the garage he and his father had built for it, and started to overhaul it for his cousin. marty had become something of a mechanic since the arrival of the kremlin at the day place. the roads were fast drying up, and marty promised that the car would soon be in order. but the thought now served to inspire no anticipation of pleasure in janice's troubled mind. she passed major price just at the foot of hillside avenue. the major was polktown's moneyed man--really the magnate of the village. his was the largest house on the hill--a broad, high-pillared colonial mansion with a great, shaded, sloping lawn in front. an important looking house was the major's and the major was important looking, too. but janice noted more particularly than ever before that there were many purple veins distinctly lined upon the major's nose and cheeks and that his eyes were moist and wavering in their glance. he used a cane with a flourish; but his legs had an unsteadiness that a cane could not correct. "good day! good day, miss janice! happy to see you! fine spring weather--yes, yes," he said, with great cordiality, removing his silk hat. "charming weather, indeed. it has tempted me out for a walk--yes, yes!" and he rolled by, swinging his cane and bobbing his head. janice knew that nowadays the major's walks always led him to the lake view inn. mrs. price and maggie did their best to hide the major's missteps, but the children on the streets, seeing the local magnate making heavy work of his journey back up the hill, would giggle and follow on behind, an amused audience. this was another victim of the change in polktown's temperance situation. poor major price---- "hi, janice! did you notice the 'still' the major's got on?" called the cheerful voice of marty, her cousin. "he's got more than he can carry comfortably already; walky dexter will be taking him home again. he did the other night." "no, marty! did he?" cried the troubled girl. "sure," chuckled marty. "walky says he thinks some of giving up the express business and buyin' himself a hack. some of these old soaks around town will be glad to ride home under cover after a session at lem parraday's place. think of walky as a 'nighthawk'!" and marty, who was a short, freckled-faced boy several years his cousin's junior, went off into a spasm of laughter. "don't, marty!" cried janice, in horror. "don't talk so lightly about it! why, it is dreadful!" "what's dreadful? walky getting a hack?" "be serious," commanded his cousin, who really had gained a great deal of influence over the thoughtless marty during the time she had lived in polktown. "oh, marty! i've just seen such a dreadful thing!" "hullo! what's that?" he asked, eyeing her curiously and ceasing his laughter. he knew now that she was in earnest. "that horrid old jim narnay--you know him?" "sure," agreed marty, beginning to grin faintly again. "he was intoxicated--really staggering drunk. and he came out of the back door of the inn, and some boys chased him out on to the street, hooting after him. perry grimes and sim howell and some others. old enough to know better----" "he, he!" chuckled marty, exploding with laughter again. "old narnay's great fun. one of the fellows the other day told him there was a brick in his hat, and he took the old thing off to look into it to see if it was true. then he stood there and lectured us about being truthful. he, he!" "oh, marty!" ejaculated janice, in horror. "you never! you don't! you _can't_ be so mean!" "hi tunket!" exploded the boy. "what's the matter with you? what d'ye mean? 'i never, i don't, i can't'! what sort of talk is that?" "there's nothing funny about it," his cousin said sternly. "i want to know if _you_ would mock at that poor man on the street?" "at narnay?" "yes." "why not?" demanded marty. "he's only an old drunk. and he is great fun." "he--he is disgusting! he is horrid!" cried the girl earnestly. "he is an awful, ruffianly creature, but he's nothing to laugh at. listen, marty!" and vividly, with all the considerable descriptive powers that she possessed, the girl repeated what had occurred when little sophie narnay had run into her drunken parent on the street. marty was a boy, and not a thoughtful boy at all; but, as he listened, the grin disappeared from his face and he did not look like laughing. "whew! the mean scamp!" was his comment. "poor kid! do you s'pose he hurts her?" "he hurts her--and her mother--and the two little boys--and that unnamed baby--whenever he takes money to spend for drink. it doesn't particularly matter whether he beats her. i don't think he does that, or the child would not love him and make excuses for him. but tell me, marty day! is there anything funny in a man like that?" "whew!" admitted the boy. "it does look different when you think of it that way. but some of these fellers that crook their elbows certainly do funny stunts when they've had a few!" "marty day!" cried janice, clasping her hands, "i didn't notice it before. but you even _talk_ differently from the way you used to. since the bar at the inn has been open i believe you boys have got hold of an entirely new brand of slang." "huh?" said marty. "why, it is awful! i had been thinking that mr. parraday's license only made a difference to himself and poor marm parraday and his customers. but that is not so. everybody in polktown is affected by the change. i am going to talk to mr. meddlar about it, or to elder concannon. something ought to be done." "hi tunket! there ye go!" chuckled marty. "more _do something_ business. you'd better begin with walky." "begin what with walky?" "your temperance campaign, if that's what you mean," said the boy, more soberly. "not walky dexter!" exclaimed janice, amazed. "you don't mean the liquor selling has done him harm?" "well," marty said slowly, "walky takes a drink now and then. sometimes the drummers he hauls trunks and sample-cases for give him a drink. as long as he couldn't get it in town, walky never bothered with the stuff much. but he was a little elevated saturday night--that's right." "oh!" gasped janice, for the town expressman was one of her oldest friends in polktown, and a man in whom she took a deep interest. a slow grin dawned again on marty's freckled countenance. "ye ought to hear him when he's had a drink or two. you called him 'talkworthy' dexter; and he sure is some talky when he's been imbibing." "oh, marty, that's dreadful!" and janice sighed. "it's just wicked! polktown's been a sleepy place, but it's never been wicked before." her cousin looked at her admiringly. "hi jinks, janice! i bet you got it in your mind to stir things up again. i can see it in your eyes. you give polktown its first clean-up day, and you've shook up the dry bones in general all over the shop. there's going to be _something doing_, i reckon, that'll make 'em all set up and take notice." "you talk as though i were one of these awful female reformers the funny papers tell about," janice said, with a little laugh. "you see nothing in my eyes, marty, unless it's tears for poor little sophie narnay." the cousins arrived at the old day house and entered the grass-grown yard. it was an old-fashioned, homely place, a rambling farmhouse up to which the village had climbed. there was plenty of shade, lush grass beneath the trees, with crocuses and other spring flowers peeping from the beds about the front porch, and sweet peas already breaking the soil at the side porch and pump-bench. a smiling, cushiony woman met janice at the door, while marty went whistling barnward, having the chores to do. aunt 'mira nowadays usually had a smile for everybody, but for janice always. "your uncle's home, janice," she said, "and he brought the mail." "oh!" cried the girl, with a quick intake of breath. "a letter from daddy?" "wal--i dunno," said the fleshy woman. "i reckon it must be. yet it don't look just like brocky day's hand of write. see--here 'tis. it's from mexico, anyway." the girl seized the letter with a gasp. "it--it's the same stationery he uses," she said, with a note of thankfulness. "i--i guess it's all right. i'll run right up and read it." she flew upstairs to her little room--her room that looked out upon the beautiful lake. she could never bring herself to read over a letter from her father first in the presence of the rest of the family. she sat down without removing her hat and gloves, pulled a tiny hairpin from the wavy lock above her ear and slit the thin, rice-paper envelope. two enclosures were shaken out into her lap. chapter ii "talky" dexter, indeed! the moments of suspense were hard to bear. there was always a fluttering at janice's heart when she received a letter from her father. she always dreamed of him as a mariner skirting the coasts of uncertainty. there was no telling, as aunt 'mira often said, what was going to happen to broxton day next. first of all, on this occasion, the young girl saw that the most important enclosure was the usual fat letter addressed to her in daddy's hand. with it was a thin, oblong card, on which, in minute and very exact script, was written this flowery note: "with respect i, whom you know not, venture to address you humbly, and in view of the situation of your honorable father, the señor b day, beg to make known to you that the military authorities now in power in this district have refused him the privilege of sending or receiving mail. yet, fear not, sweet señorita; while the undersigned retains the boon of breath and the power of brain and arm, thy letters, if addressed in my care, shall reach none but thy father's eye, and his to thee shall be safely consigned to the government mails beyond the rio grande. "faithfully thine, "juan dicampa." who the writer of this peculiar communication was, janice had no means of knowing. in the letter from her father which she immediately opened, there was no mention of juan dicampa. mr. day did say, however, that he seemed to have incurred the particular enmity of the zapatist chief then at the head of the district because he was not prepared to bribe him personally and engage his ragged and barefoot soldiery to work in the mine. he did not say that his own situation was at all changed. rather, he joked about the half-breeds and the pure-blood yaquis then in power about the mine. either mr. broxton day had become careless because of continued peril, or he really considered these indians less to be feared than the brigands who had previously overrun this part of chihuahua. however, it was good to hear from daddy and to know that--up to the time the letter was written, at least--he was all right. she went down to supper with some cheerfulness, and took the letter to read aloud, by snatches, during the meal. a letter from mexico was always an event in the day household. marty was openly desirous of emulating "uncle brocky" and getting out of polktown--no matter where or how. aunt 'mira was inclined to wonder how the ladies of mexico dressed and deported themselves. uncle jason observed: "i've allus maintained that broxton day is a stubborn and foolish feller. why! see the strain he's been under these years since he went down to that forsaken country. an' what for?" "to make a fortune, dad," interposed marty. "hi tunket! wisht i was in his shoes." "money ain't ev'rything," said uncle jason, succinctly. "well, it's a hull lot," proclaimed the son. "i reckon that's so, jason," aunt almira agreed. "it's his money makin' that leaves janice so comfterble here. and her automobile----" "oh, shucks! is money wuth life?" demanded mr. day. "what good will money be to him if he's stood up against one o' them dough walls and shot at by a lot of slantindicular-eyed heathen?" "hoo!" shouted marty. "the mexicans ain't slant-eyed like chinamen and japs." "and they ain't heathen," added aunt almira. "they don't bow down to figgers of wood and stone." "besides, uncle," put in janice, softly, and with a smile, "it is _adobe_ not _dough_ they build their houses of." "huh!" snorted uncle jason. "don't keer a continental. he's one foolish man. he'd better throw up the whole business, come back here to polktown, and i'll let him have a piece of the old farm to till." "oh! that would be lovely, uncle jason!" cried janice, clasping her hands. "if he only _could_ retire to dear polktown for the rest of his life and we could live together in peace." "hi tunket!" exclaimed marty, pushing back his chair from the supper table just as the outer door opened. "he kin have _my_ share of the old farm," for marty had taken a mighty dislike to farming and had long before this stated his desire to be a civil engineer. "at it ag'in, air ye, marty?" drawled a voice from the doorway. "if repetition of what ye want makes detarmination, mart, then you air the most detarmined man since lot's wife--and she was a woman, er-haw! haw! haw!" "come in, walky," said uncle jason, greeting the broad and ruddy face of his neighbor with a brisk nod. "set up and have a bite," was aunt 'mira's hospitable addition. "no, no! i had a snack down to the tavern, marthy's gone to see her folks terday and i didn't 'spect no supper to hum. i'm what ye call a grass-widderer. haw! haw! haw!" explained the local expressman. walky's voice seemed louder than usual, his face was more beaming, and he was more prone to laugh at his own jokes. janice and marty exchanged glances as the expressman came in and took a chair that creaked under his weight. the girl, remembering what her cousin had said about the visitor, wondered if it were possible that walky had been drinking and now showed the effects of it. it was true, as janice had once said--the expressman should have been named "talkworthy" rather than "walkworthy" dexter. to-night he seemed much more talkative than usual. "what were all you younkers out o' school so early for, marty?" he asked. "ain't been an eperdemic o' smallpox broke out, has there?" "teachers' meeting," said marty. "the superintendent of schools came over and they say we're going to have fortnightly lectures on friday afternoons--mebbe illustrated ones. crackey! it don't matter what they have," declared this careless boy, "as long as 'tain't lessons." "lectures?" repeated walky. "do tell! what sort of lectures?" "i heard mr. haley say the first one would proberbly be illustrated by a collection of rare coins some rich feller's lent the state school board. he says the coins are worth thousands of dollars." "lectures on coins?" cackled walky. "i could give ye a lecture on ev'ry dollar me and josephus ever airned! haw! haw! haw!" walky rolled in his chair in delight at his own wit. uncle jason was watching him with some curiosity as he filled and lit his pipe. "walky," he drawled, "what was the very hardest dollar you ever airned? it strikes me that you allus have picked the softest jobs, arter all." "me? soft jobs?" demanded walkworthy, with some indignation. "ye oughter try liftin' some o' them drummers' sample-cases that i hatter wrastle with. wal!" then his face began to broaden and his eyes to twinkle. "arter all, it was a soft job that i airned my hardest dollar by, for a fac'." "let's have it, walky," urged marty. "get it out of your system. you'll feel better for it." "why, ter tell the truth," grinned walky, "it was a soft job, for i carried five pounds of feathers in a bolster twelve miles to old miz' kittridge one winter day when i was a boy. i got a dollar for it and come as nigh bein' froze ter death as ever a boy did and save his bacon." "do tell us about it, walky," said janice, who was wiping the supper dishes for her aunt. "i should say it was a soft job--five pounds of feathers!" burst out marty. "how fur did you haf to travel, walky?" asked aunt 'mira. "twelve mile over the snow and ice, me without snowshoes and it thirty below zero. yes, sir!" went on walky, beginning to stuff the tobacco into his own pipe from mr. day's proffered sack. "that was some job! miz bob kittridge, the old lady's darter-in-law, give me the dollar _and_ the job; and i done it. "the old lady lived over behind this here very mountain, all alone on the kittridge farm. the tracks was jest natcherly blowed over and hid under more snow than ye ever see in a winter nowadays. i believe there was five foot on a level in the woods. "there'd been a rain; then she'd froze up ag'in," pursued walky. "it put a crust on the snow, but i had no idee it had made the ice rotten. and with mr. mercury creepin' down to thirty below--jefers-pelters! i'd no idee mink creek had open air-holes in it. i ain't never understood it to this day. "wal, sir! ye know where mink creek crosses the road to kittridge's, jason?" mr. day nodded. "i know the place, walky," he agreed. "that's where it happened," said walky dexter, nodding his head many times. "i was crossin' the stream, thinkin' nothin' could happen, and 'twas jest at sunup. i'd come six mile, and was jest ha'f way to the farm. i kerried that piller-case over my shoulder, and slung from the other shoulder was a gun, and i had a hatchet in my belt. "jefers-pelters! all of a suddint i slumped down, right through the snow-crust, and douced up ter my middle inter the coldest water i ever felt i did, for a fac'! "i sprung out o' that right pert, ye kin believe; and then the next step i went down ker-chug! ag'in--this time up ter my armpits." "crackey!" exclaimed marty. "that was some slip. what did you do?" "i got out o' that hole purty careful, now i tell ye; but i left my cap floatin' on the open pool o' water," the expressman said. "why, i was a cake of ice in two minutes--and six miles from anywhere, whichever way i turned." "oh, walky!" ejaculated janice, interested. "what ever did you do?" "wal, i had either to keep on or go back. didn't much matter which. and in them days i hated ter gin up when i'd started a thing. but i had ter git that cap first of all. i couldn't afford ter lose it nohow. and another thing, i'd a froze my ears if i hadn't got it. "so i goes back to the bank of the crick and cut me a pole. then i fished out the cap, wrung it out as good as i could, and clapped it on my head. before i'd clumb the crick bank ag'in that cap was as stiff as one o' them tin helmets ye read about them knights wearin' in the middle ages--er-haw! haw! haw! "i had ter laig it then, believe me!" pursued the expressman. "was cased in ice right from my head ter my heels. could git erlong jest erbout as graceful as one of these here cigar-store injuns--er-haw! haw! haw! "i dunno how i made it ter ma'am kittridge's--but i done it! the old lady seen the plight i was in, and she made me sit down by the kitchen fire just like i was. wouldn't let me take off a thing. "she het up some kinder hot tea--like ter burnt all the skin off my tongue and throat, i swow!" pursued walky. "must ha' drunk two quarts of it, an' gradually it begun ter thaw me out from the inside. that's how i saved my feet--sure's you air born! "when i come inter her kitchen i clumped in with feet's big as an elephant's an' no more feelin' in them than as though they'd been boxes and not feet. if i'd peeled off that ice and them boots, the feet would ha' come with 'em. but the old lady knowed what ter do, for a fac'. "hardest dollar ever i airned," repeated walky, shaking his head, "and jest carryin' a mess of goose feathers---- "hullo! who's this here comin' aboard?" janice had run to answer a knock at the side door. aunt 'mira came more slowly with the sitting room lamp which she had lighted. "well, janice day! air ye all deef here?" exclaimed a high and rather querulous voice. "do come in, mrs. scattergood," cried the girl. "i declare, miz scattergood," said aunt 'mira, with interest, "you here at this time o' night? i am glad to see ye." "guess ye air some surprised," said the snappy, birdlike old woman whom janice ushered into the sitting room. "i only got back from skunk's holler, where i been visitin', this very day. and what d'ye s'pose i found when i went into hopewell drugg's?" "goodness!" said aunt 'mira. "they ain't none o' them sick, be they?" "sick enough, i guess," exclaimed mrs. scattergood, nodding her head vigorously: "leastways, 'rill oughter be. i told her so! i was faithful in season, and outer season, warnin' her what would happen if she married that drugg." "oh, mrs. scattergood! what has happened?" cried janice, earnestly. "what's happened to hopewell?" added aunt 'mira. "enough, i should say! he's out carousin' with that fiddle of his'n--down ter lem parraday's tavern this very night with some wild gang of fellers, and my 'rill hum with that child o' his'n. and what d'ye think?" demanded mrs. scattergood, still excitedly. "what d'ye think's happened ter that lottie drugg?" "oh, my, mrs. scattergood! what _has_ happened to poor little lottie?" janice cried. "why," said 'rill drugg's mother, lowering her voice a little and moderating her asperity. "the poor little thing's goin' blind again, i do believe!" chapter iii "the seventh abomination" sorrowful as janice day was because of the report upon little lottie drugg's affliction, she was equally troubled regarding the storekeeper himself. janice had a deep interest in both mr. drugg and 'rill scattergood--"that was," to use a provincialism. the girl really felt as though she had helped more than a little to bring the storekeeper and the old-maid school-teacher together after so many years of misunderstanding. it goes without saying that mrs. scattergood had given no aid in making the match. indeed, as could be gathered from what she said now, the birdlike woman had heartily disapproved of her daughter's marrying the widowed storekeeper. "yes," she repeated; "there i found poor, foolish 'rill--her own eyes as red as a lizard's--bathing that child's eyes. i never did believe them boston doctors could cure her. yeou jest wasted your money, janice day, when you put up fer the operation, and i knowed it at the time." "oh, i hope not, mrs. scattergood!" janice replied. "not that i care about the money; but i do, _do_ hope that little lottie will keep her sight. the poor, dear little thing!" "what's the matter with lottie drugg?" demanded marty, from the doorway. walky dexter had started homeward, and marty and mr. day joined the women folk in the sitting room. "oh, marty!" janice exclaimed, "mrs. scattergood says there is danger of the poor child's losing her sight again." "and that ain't the wust of it," went on mrs. scattergood, bridling. "my darter is an unfortunate woman. i knowed how 'twould be when she married that no-account drugg. he sartainly was one 'drug on the market,' if ever there was one! always a-dreamin' an' never accomplishin' anything. "now lem parraday's opened that bar of his'n--an' he'd oughter be tarred an' feathered for doin' of it--i 'spect hopewell will be hangin' about there most of his time like the rest o' the ne'er-do-well male critters of this town, an' a-lettin' of what little business he's got go to pot." "oh, miz scattergood," said aunt 'mira comfortably, "i wouldn't give way ter sech forebodin's. hopewell is rather better than the ordinary run of men, i allow." uncle jason chuckled. "it never struck me," he said, "that hopewell was one o' the carousin' kind. i'd about as soon expec' mr. middler to cut up sech didoes as hope drugg." mrs. scattergood flushed and her eyes snapped. if she was birdlike, she could peck like a bird, and her bill was sharp. "i reckon there ain't none of you men any too good," she said; "minister, an' all of ye. oh! i know enough about _men_, i sh'd hope! i hearn a lady speak at the skunk's holler schoolhouse when i was there at my darter-in-law's last week. she was one o' them suffragettes ye hear about, and she knowed all about men and their doin's. "i wouldn't trust none o' ye farther than i could sling an elephant by his tail! as for hopewell drugg--he never was no good, and he never will be wuth ha'f as much again!" "well, well, well," chuckled uncle jason, easily. "how did this here sufferin-yet l'arn so much about the tribes o' men? i 'spect she was a spinster lady?" "she was a miss pogannis," was the tart reply. "ya-as," drawled mr. day. "it's them that's never summered and wintered a man that 'pears ter know the most about 'em. ev'ry old maid in the world knows more about bringin' up children than the wimmen that's had a dozen." "oh, yeou needn't think she didn't know what she was talkin' abeout!" cried mrs. scattergood, tossing her head. "she culled her examples from hist'ry, as well as modern times. look at abraham, isaac, and jacob! all them men kep' their wimmen in bondage. "d'yeou s'pose sarah wanted to go trapesing all over the airth, ev'ry time abraham wanted ter change his habitation?" demanded the argumentative suffragist. "of course, he always said god told him to move, not the landlord. but, my soul! a man will say anything. "an' see how jacob treated rachel----" "great scott!" ejaculated uncle jason, letting his pipe go out. "i thought jacob was a fav'rite hero of you wimmen folks. didn't he sarve--how many was it?--fourteen year, for rachel?" "bah!" exclaimed the old lady. "i 'spect she wished he'd sarved fourteen year _more_, when she seen the big family she had to wash and mend for. don't talk to me! wimmen's never had their rights in this world yet, but they're goin' to get 'em now." here aunt 'mira broke in to change the topic of conversation to one less perilous: "i never did hear tell that hopewell drugg drank a drop. it's a pity if he's took it up so late in life--and him jest married." "wal! i jest tell ye what i know. there's my 'rill cryin' her eyes out an' she confessed that drugg had gone down to the tavern to fiddle, and that he'd been there before. she has to wait on store evenin's, as well as take care of that young one, while he's out carousin'." "carousin'! gosh!" exploded marty, suddenly. "i know what it is. there's a bunch of fellers from middletown way comin' over to-night with their girls to hold a dance. i heard about it. hopewell's goin' to play the fiddle for them to dance by. tell you, the inn's gettin' to be a gay place." "it's disgustin whatever it is!" cried mrs. scattergood, rather taken aback by marty's information, yet still clinging to her own opinion. it was not mrs. scattergood's nature to scatter good--quite the opposite. "an' no married man should attend sech didoes. like enough he _will_ drink with the rest of 'em. oh, 'rill will be sick enough of her job before she's through with it, yeou mark my words." "oh, mrs. scattergood," janice said pleadingly, "i hope you are wrong. i would not want to see miss 'rill unhappy." "she's made her bed--let her lie in it," said the disapproving mother, gloomily. "i warned her." later, both janice and marty went with mrs. scattergood to see her safely home. she lived in the half of a tiny cottage on high street above the side street on which hopewell drugg had his store. had it not been so late, janice would have insisted upon going around to see "miss 'rill," as all her friends still called, the ex-school teacher, though she was married. as they were bidding their caller good night at her gate, a figure coming up the hill staggered into the radiance of the street light on the corner. janice gasped. mrs. scattergood ejaculated: "what did i tell ye?" marty emitted a shrill whistle of surprise. "what d'ye know about _that_?" he added, in a low voice. there was no mistaking the figure which turned the corner toward hopewell drugg's store. it was the proprietor of the store himself, with his fiddle in its green baize bag tightly tucked under his arm; but his feet certainly were unsteady, and his head hung upon his breast. they saw him disappear into the darkness of the side street. janice day put her hand to her throat; it seemed to her as though the pulse beating there would choke her. "what did i tell ye? what did i tell ye?" cried the shrill voice of mrs. scattergood. "_now_ ye'll believe what i say, i hope! the disgraceful critter! my poor, poor 'rill! i knew how 'twould be if she married that man." it chanced that janice day's bible opened that night to the sixth of proverbs and she read before going to bed these verses: "these six things doth the lord hate; yea, seven are an abomination unto him. "a proud look, a lying tongue, and hands that shed innocent blood. "an heart that deviseth wicked imaginations, feet that be swift in running to mischief. "a false witness that speaketh lies, _and he that soweth discord among brethren_." chapter iv a rift in the honeymoon janice could not call at the little grocery on the side street until friday afternoon when she returned from middletown for over sunday. while the roads were so bad that she could not use her car in which to run back and forth to the seminary she boarded during the school days near the seminary. but 'rill drugg and little lottie were continually in her mind. from walky dexter, with whom she rode home to polktown on friday, she gained some information that she would have been glad not to hear. "talk abeout the 'woman with the sarpint tongue,'" chuckled walky. "we sartain sure have our share of she in polktown." "what is the matter now, walky?" asked janice, gaily, not suspecting what was coming. "has somebody got ahead of you in circulating a particularly juicy bit of gossip?" "huh!" snorted the expressman. "i gotter take a back seat, _i_ have. did ye hear 'bout hopewell drugg gittin' drunk, an' beatin' his wife, an' i dunno but they say by this time that it's his fault lettle lottie's goin' blind again----" "oh, walky! it can't be true!" gasped the girl, horrified. "what can't? that them old hens is sayin' sech things?" demanded the driver. "that lottie is truly going blind?" "dunno. she's in a bad way. hopewell wants to send her back to boston as quick's he can. i know that. and them sayin' that he's turned inter a reg'lar old drunk, an' sich." "what do you mean, walky?" asked janice, seriously. "you cannot be in earnest. surely people do not say such dreadful things about mr. drugg?" "fact. they got poor old hopewell on the dissectin' table, and the way them wimmen cut him up is a caution to cats!" "what women, walky?" "his blessed mother-in-law, for one. and most of the ladies aid is a-follerin' of her example. they air sayin' he's nex' door to a ditch drunkard." "why, walky dexter! nobody would really believe such talk about mr. drugg," janice declared. "ye wouldn't think so, would ye? we've all knowed hopewell drugg for years an' years, and he's allus seemed the mildest-mannered pirate that ever cut off a yard of turkey-red. but now--jefers-pelters! ye oughter hear 'em! he gits drunk, beats 'rill scattergood, _that was_, and otherwise behaves himself like a hardened old villain." "oh, walky! i would not believe such things about mr. drugg--not if he told them to me himself!" exclaimed janice. "an' i reckon nobody would ha' dreamed sech things about him if marm scattergood hadn't got home from skunk's holler. i expect she stirred up things over there abeout as much as her son and his wife'd stand, and they shipped her back to polktown. and polktown--includin' hopewell--will hafter stand it." "it is a shame!" cried janice, with indignation. then she added, doubtfully, remembering the unfortunate incident she and marty and mrs. scattergood had viewed so recently: "of course, there isn't a word of truth in it?" "that hopewell's become a toper and beats his wife?" chuckled walky. "wal--i reckon not! maybe hopewell takes a glass now and then--i dunno. i never seen him. but they _do_ say he went home airly from the dance at lem parraday's t'other night in a slightly elevated condition. haw! haw! haw!" "it is nothing to laugh at," janice said severely. "nor nothin' ter cry over," promptly returned walkworthy dexter. "what's a drink or two? it ain't never hurt _me_. why should it hopewell?" "don't argue with me, walky dexter!" janice exclaimed, much exasperated. "i--i _hate_ it all--this drinking. i never thought of it much before. polktown has been free of that curse until lately. it is a shame the bar was ever opened at the lake view inn. _and something ought to be done about it!_" walky had pulled in his team for her to jump down before hopewell drugg's store. "jefers-pelters!" murmured the driver, scratching his head. "if that gal detarmines to put lem parraday out o' the licker business, mebbe--mebbe i'd better go down an' buy me another drink 'fore she does it. haw! haw! haw!" hopewell drugg's store was a very different looking shop now from its appearance that day when janice had led little blind lottie up from the wharf at pine cove and delivered her to her father for safe keeping. then the goods had been dusty and fly-specked, and the interior of the store dark and musty. now the shelves and showcases were neatly arranged, everything was scrupulously clean, and it was plain that the reign of woman had succeeded the pandemonium of man. there was nobody in the store at the moment; but from the rear the sobbing tones of a violin took up the strains of "silver threads among the gold." janice listened. there seemed, to her ear, a sadder strain than ever in hopewell's playing of the old ballad. for a time this favorite had been discarded for lighter and brighter melodies, for the little family here on the by-street had been wonderfully happy. they all three welcomed janice day joyfully now. the storekeeper, much sprucer in dress than heretofore, smiled and nodded to her over the bridge of his violin. his wife, in a pretty print house dress, ran out from her sitting room where she was sewing, to take janice in her arms. as for little lottie, she danced about the visitor in glee. "oh, janice day! oh, janice day! looker me!" she crowed. "see my new dress? isn't it pretty? and mamma 'rill made it for me--all of it! she makes me lots and lots of nice things. isn't she just the bestest mamma 'rill that ever was?" "she certainly is," admitted janice, laughing and kissing the pretty child. but she looked anxiously into the beautiful blue eyes, too. nothing there betrayed growing visual trouble. yet, when lottie drugg was stone-blind, the expression of her eyes had been lovely. "weren't you and your papa lucky to get such a mamma?" continued janice with a swift glance over her shoulder at hopewell. the storekeeper was drawing the bow across the strings softly and just a murmur came from them as he listened. his eyes, janice saw, were fixed in pride and satisfaction upon his wife's trim figure. on her part, mrs. drugg seemed her usual brisk, kind self. yet there was a cheerful note lacking here. the honeymoon for such a loving couple could not yet have waned; but there was a rift in it. 'rill wanted to talk. janice could see that. the young girl had been the school teacher's only confidant previous to her marriage to hopewell drugg, and she still looked upon janice as her dearest friend. they left lottie playing in the back room of the store and listening to her father's fiddle, while 'rill closed the door between that room and the dwelling. "oh, my dear!" janice hastened to ask, first of all, "is it true?" 'rill flushed and there was a spark in her eye--janice thought of indignation. indeed, her voice was rather sharp as she asked: "is what true?" "about lottie. her eyes--you know." "oh, the poor little thing!" and instantly the step-mother's countenance changed. "janice, we don't know. poor hopewell is 'most worried to death. sometimes it seems as though there was a blur over the child's eyes. and she has never got over her old habit of shutting her eyes and seeing with her fingers, as she calls it." "ah! i know," the girl said. "but that does not necessarily mean that she has difficulty with her vision." "that is true. and the doctor in boston wrote that, at times, there might arise some slight clouding of the vision if she used her eyes too much, if she suffered other physical ills, even if she were frightened or unhappy." "the last two possibilities may certainly be set aside," said janice, with confidence. "and she is as rosy and healthy looking as she could be." "yes," said 'rill. "then what can it be that has caused the trouble?" "we cannot imagine," with a sigh. "it--it is worrying hopewell, night and day." "poor man!" "he--he is changed a great deal, janice," whispered the bride. janice was silent, but held 'rill's hand in her own comforting clasp. "don't think he isn't good to me. he is! he is! he is the sweetest tempered man that ever lived! you know that, yourself. and i thought i was going to make him--oh!--so happy." "hush! hush, dear!" murmured janice, for mrs. drugg's eyes had run over and she sobbed aloud. "he loves you just the same. i can see it in the way he looks at you. and why should he not love you?" "but he has lost his cheerfulness. he worries about lottie, i know. there--there is another thing----" she stopped. she pursued this thread of thought no further. janice wondered then--and she wondered afterward--if this unexplained anxiety connected hopewell drugg with the dances at the lake view inn. chapter v "the bluebird--for happiness" could it be possible that janice day had alighted from walky dexter's old carryall at the little grocery store for still another purpose? it was waning afternoon, yet she did not immediately make her way homeward. mrs. beaseley lived almost across the street from hopewell drugg's store, and nelson haley, the principal of polktown's graded school, boarded with the widow. janice ran in to see her "just for a moment." therefore, it could scarcely be counted strange that the young school principal should have caught the girl in mrs. beaseley's bright kitchen when he came home with his satchel of books and papers. "there! i do declare for't!" ejaculated the widow, who was a rather lugubrious woman living in what she believed to be the remembrance of "her sainted charles." "there! i do declare for't! i git to talkin' and i forgit how the time flies. that's what my poor charles uster say--he had _that_ fault to find with me, poor soul. i couldn't never seem to git the vittles on the table on time when i was young. "i was mindin' to make you a shortcake for your supper to-night, mr. haley, out o' some o' them peaches i canned last fall! but it's so late----" "you needn't hurry supper on my account, mrs. beaseley," said nelson, cheerily, and without removing his gloves. "i find i've to go downtown again on an errand. i'll not be back for an hour." janice was smiling merrily at him from the doorway. mrs. beaseley began to bustle about. "that'll give me just time to toss up the shortcake," she proclaimed. "good-bye, janice. come again. mr. haley'll like to walk along with you, i know." mrs. beaseley was blind to what most people, in polktown knew--that janice and the schoolteacher were the very closest of friends. only their years--at least, only janice's youth--precluded an announced engagement between them. "wait until i can come home and get a square look at this phenomenal young man whom you have found in polktown," daddy had written, and janice would not dream of going against her father's expressed wish. besides, nelson haley was a poor young man, with his own way to make in the world. his work in the polktown school had attracted the attention of the faculty of a college not far away, and he had already been invited to join the teaching staff of that institution. janice had been the young man's inspiration when he had first come to polktown, a raw college graduate, bent only on "teaching for a living" and on earning his salary as easily as possible. awakened by his desire to stand well in the estimation of the serious-minded girl--eager to "make good" with her--nelson haley had put his shoulder to the wheel, and the result was polktown's fine new graded school, with the young man himself at the head of it. nelson was good looking--extremely good looking, indeed. he was light, not dark like janice, and he was muscular and sturdy without being at all fleshy. the girl was proud of him--he was always so well-dressed, so gentlemanly, and carried himself with such an assured air. daddy was bound to be pleased with a young man like nelson haley, once he should see the schoolteacher! in his companionship now, janice rather lost sight of the troubles that had come upon her of late. nelson told her of his school plans as they strolled down high street. "and i fancy these lectures and readings the school committee are arranging will be a good thing," the young man said. "we'll slip a little extra information to the boys and girls of polktown without their suspecting it." "sugar-coated pills?" laughed janice. "yes. the old system of pounding knowledge into the infant cranium isn't in vogue any more." "poor things!" murmured janice day, from the lofty rung of the scholastic ladder she had attained. "poor things! i don't blame them for wondering: 'what's the use?' marty wonders now, old as he is. there is such a lot to learn in the world!" they talked of other things, too, and it was the appearance of jim narnay weaving a crooked trail across high street toward the rear of the inn that brought back to the girl's mind the weight of new trouble that had settled upon it. "oh, dear! there's that poor creature," murmured janice. "and i haven't been to see how his family is." "who--jim narnay's family?" asked nelson. "yes." "you'd better keep away from such people, janice," the young man said urgently. "why?" "you don't want to mix with such folk, my dear," repeated the young man, shaking his head. "what good can it do? the fellow is a drunken rascal and not worth striving to do anything for." "but his family? the poor little children?" said janice, softly. "if you give them money, jim'll drink it up." "i believe that," admitted janice. "so i won't give them money. but i can buy things for them that they need. and the poor little baby is sick. that cunning sophie told me so." "goodness, janice!" laughed nelson, yet with some small vexation. "i see there's no use in opposing your charitable instincts. but i really wish you would not get acquainted with every rag-tag and bob-tail in town. first those trimminses--and now these narnays!" janice laughed at this. "why, they can't hurt me, nelson. and perhaps i might do them good." "you cannot handle charcoal without getting some of the smut on your fingers," nelson declared, dogmatically. "but they are not charcoal. they are just some of god's unfortunates," added the young girl, gently. "it is not sophie's fault that her father drinks. and maybe it isn't altogether _his_ fault." "what arrant nonsense!" exclaimed nelson, with some exasperation. "it always irritates me when i hear these old topers excused. a man should be able to take a glass of wine or beer or spirits--or let it alone." "yes, indeed, nelson," agreed janice, demurely. "he _ought_ to." the young man glanced sharply into her rather serious countenance. he suspected that she was not agreeing with him, after all, very strongly. finally he laughed, and the spark of mischief immediately danced in janice day's hazel eyes. "that is just where the trouble lies, nelson, with drinking intoxicating things. people should be able to drink or not, as they feel inclined. but alcohol is insidious. why! you teach that in your own classes, nelson haley!" "got me there," admitted the young school principal, with a laugh. then he became sober again, and added: "but _i_ can take a drink or leave it alone if i wish." "oh, nelson! you _don't_ use alcoholic beverages, do you?" cried janice, quite shocked. "oh! you _don't_, do you?" "my, my! see what a little fire-cracker it is!" laughed nelson. "did i say i was in the habit of going into lem parraday's bar and spending my month's salary in fiery waters?" "oh, but nelson! you don't _approve_ of the use of liquor, do you?" "i'm not sure that i do," returned the young man, more gravely. "and yet i believe in every person having perfect freedom in that as well as other matters." "anarchism!" cried janice, yet rather seriously, too, although her lips smiled. "i know the taste of all sorts of beverages," the young man said. "i was in with rather a sporty bunch at college, for a while. but i knew i could not afford to keep up that pace, so i cut it out." "oh, nelson!" janice murmured. "it's too bad!" "why, it never hurt me," answered the young schoolmaster. "it never could hurt me. a gentleman eats temperately and drinks temperately. of course, i would not go into the lake view inn and call for a drink, now that i am teaching school here. my example would be bad for the boys. and i fancy the school committee would have something to say about it, too," and he laughed again, lightly. they had turned into hillside avenue and the way was deserted save for themselves. the warm glow of sunset lingered about them. lights twinkling in the kitchens as they went along announced the preparation of the evening meal. janice clasped her hands over nelson's arm confidingly and looked earnestly up into his face. "nelson!" she said softly, "don't even _think_ about drinking anything intoxicating. i should be afraid for you. i should worry about the hold it might get upon you----" "as it has on jim narnay?" interrupted the young man, laughing. "no," said janice, still gravely. "you would never be like him, i am sure------" "nor will drink ever affect me in any way--no fear! i know what i am about. i have a will of my own, i should hope. i can control my appetites and desires. and i should certainly never allow such a foolish habit as tippling to get a strangle hold on me." "of course, i know you won't," agreed janice. "i thank goodness i'm not a man of habit, in any case," continued nelson, proudly. "one of our college professors has said: 'there is only one thing worse than a bad habit--and that's a good habit.' it is true. no man can be a well-rounded and perfectly poised man, if he is hampered by habits of any kind. habits narrow the mind and contract one's usefulness in the world----" "oh, nelson!" excitedly interrupted janice. "see the bluebird! the first i have seen this spring. the dear, little, pretty thing!" "good-_night_!" exploded the school teacher, with a burst of laughter. "my little homily is put out of business. a bluebird, indeed!" "but the bluebird is so pretty--and so welcome in spring. see! there he goes." then she added softly, still clinging to nelson's arm: "'the bluebird--for happiness.'" chapter vi the tentacles of the monster the sweet south wind blew that night and helped warm to life the winter-chilled breast of mother earth. her pulses leaped, rejuvenated; the mellowing soil responded; bud and leaf put forth their effort to reach the sun and air. at janice day's casement the odors of the freshly-turned earth and of the growing things whispered of the newly begun season. the ruins of the ancient fortress across the lake to the north still frowned in the mists of night when janice left her bed and peered from the open window, looking westward. behind the mountain-top which towered over polktown it was already broad day; but the sun would not appear, to gild the frowning fortress, or to touch the waters of the lake with its magic wand, for yet several minutes. as the first red rays of the sun graced the rugged prospect across the lake, janice went through the barnyard and climbed the uphill pasture lane. she was bound for the great "overlook" rock in the second-growth, from which spot she never tired of looking out upon the landscape--and upon life itself. janice day took many of her problems to the overlook. there, alone with the wild things of the wood, with nothing but the prospect to tempt her thoughts, she was wont to decide those momentous questions that come into every young girl's life. as she sped up the path past the sheep sheds on this morning, her feet were suddenly stayed by a most unexpected incident. janice usually had the hillside to herself at this hour; but now she saw a dark figure huddled under the shelter, the open side of which faced her. "a bear!" thought janice. yet there had not been such a creature seen in the vicinity of polktown for years, she knew. she hesitated. the "bear" rolled over, stretched himself, and yawned a most prodigious yawn. "goodness, mercy, me!" murmured janice day. "it's a man!" but it was not. it was a boy. janice popped down behind a boulder and watched, for at first she had no idea who he could be. certainly he must have been up here in the sheepfold all night; and a person who would spend a night in the open, on the raw hillside at this time of year, must have something the matter with him, to be sure. "why--why, that's jack besmith! he worked for mr. massey all winter. what is he doing here?" murmured janice. she did not rise and expose herself to the fellow's gaze. for one thing, the ex-drug clerk looked very rough in both dress and person. his uncombed hair was littered with straw and bits of corn-blades from the fodder on which he had lain. his clothing was stained. he wore no linen and the shoes on his feet were broken. never in her life had janice day seen a more desperate looking young fellow and she was actually afraid of him. yet she knew he came of a respectable family, and that he had a decent lodging in town. what business had he up here at her uncle's sheepfold? janice continued her walk no farther. she remained in hiding until she saw jack besmith stumble out of the sheep pasture and down the hill behind the day stables--taking a retired route toward the village. coming down into the barnyard once more, janice met marty with a foaming milk pail. "hullo, early bird!" he sang out. "did you catch the worm this morning?" janice shuddered a trifle. "i believe i did, marty," she confessed. "at least, i saw some such crawling thing." "hi tunket! not a snake so early in the year?" "i don't know," and his cousin smiled, yet with gravity. "huh?" queried the boy, with curiosity, for he saw that something unusual had occurred. janice gravely told him whom she had seen in the sheepfold. "and, marty, i believe he must have been up there all night--sleeping outdoors such weather as this. what for, do you suppose?" marty professed inability to explain; but after he had taken the milk in to his mother, he slipped away and ran up to the sheep pasture himself. "i say, janice," he said, grinning, when he came back. "i can solve the mystery, i can." "what mystery?" asked his cousin, who was flushed now with helping her aunt get breakfast. "the mystery of the 'early worm' that you saw this mornin'." he brought his hand from behind him and displayed an empty, amber-colored flask on which was a gaudy label announcing its contents to have been whiskey and sold by "_l. parraday, polktown._" "oh, dear! is _that_ the trouble with the besmith boy?" murmured janice. "that's how he came to lose his job with massey." "poor fellow! he looked dreadful!" "oh, he's a bad egg," said her cousin, carelessly. janice hurried through breakfast, for the car was to be brought forth to-day. marty had been fussing over it for almost a week. the wind was drying up the roads and it was possible for janice to take a spin out into the open country. marty's prospects of enjoying the outing, however, were nipped before he could leave the table. "throw the chain harness on the colts, marty," said his father. "the 'tater-patch is dry enough to put the plow in. and i'll want ye to help me." "oh--dad! i got to help janice get her car out. this ain't no time to plow for 'taters," declared marty. "your mouth'll be open wider'n anybody else's in the house for the 'taters when they're grown," said uncle jason, calmly. "you got to do your share toward raisin' 'em." "oh, dad!" ejaculated the boy again. "now, marty, you stop talkin'!" cried his mother. "huh! you wanter make a feller dumb around here, too. s'pose janice breaks down on the road?" he added, with reviving hope. "i guess she'll find somebody that knows fully as much about them gasoline buggies as you do, son," observed uncle jason, easily. "you an' me'll tackle the 'tater field." when his father spoke so positively marty knew there was no use trying to change him. he frowned, and muttered, and kicked the table leg as he got up, but to no avail. janice, later, got into her car and started for a ride. she put the kremlin right at the hill and it climbed hillside avenue with wonderful ease. the engine purred prettily and not a thing went wrong. "poor marty! it's too bad he couldn't go, too," she thought. "i'd gladly share this with somebody." nelson, she knew, was busy this forenoon. it took no little of his out-of-school time to prepare the outline for the ensuing week's work. besides, on this saturday morning, there was a special meeting of the school committee, as he had told her the afternoon before. something to do with the course of lectures before mentioned. and the young principal of polktown's graded school was very faithful to his duties. she thought of mrs. drugg and little lottie; but there was trouble at the drugg home. somehow, on this bright, sweet-smelling morning, janice shrank from touching anything unpleasant, or coming into communication with anybody who was not in attune with the day. she was fated, however, to rub elbows with trouble wherever she went and whatever she did. she ran the kremlin past the rear of walky dexter's place and saw walky himself currying josephus and his mate on the stable floor. the man waved his currycomb at her and grinned. but his well-known grimace did not cheer janice day. "dear me! poor walky is in danger, too," thought the young girl. "why! the whole of polktown is changing. in some form or other that liquor selling at the inn touches all our lives. i wonder if other people see it as plainly as i do." she ran up into the upper middletown road, as far out as elder concannon's. the old gentleman--once janice day's very stern critic, but now her staunch friend--was in the yard when janice approached in her car. he waved a cordial hand at her and turned away from the man he had been talking with. "well, there ye have it, trimmins," the girl heard the elder say, as her engine stopped. "if you can find a man or two to help you, i'll let you have a team and you can go in there and haul them logs. there's a market for 'em, and the logs lie jest right for hauling. you and your partner can make a profit, and so can i." then he said to janice: "good morning, child! you're as fresh to look at as a morning-glory." she had nodded and smiled at the patriarchal old gentleman; but her eyes were now on the long and lanky looking woodsman who stood by. "good day, mr. trimmins," she said, when she had returned elder concannon's greeting. "is mrs. trimmins well? and my little virginia and all the rest of them?" "the fambly's right pert, miss," trimmins said. janice had a question or two to ask the elder regarding the use of the church vestry for some exercises by the girl's guild of which she had been the founder and was still the leading spirit. "goodness, yes!" agreed the elder. "do anything you like, janice, if you can keep those young ones interested in anything besides dancing and parties. still, what can ye expect of the young gals when their mothers are given up to folly and dissipation? "there's mrs. marvin petrie and mrs. major price want to be 'patronesses,' i believe they call themselves, of an assembly ball, an' want to hold the ball at lem parraday's hotel. it's bad enough to have them dances; but to have 'em at a place where liquor is sold, is a sin and a shame! i wish lem parraday had lost the hotel entirely, before he got a liquor license." "oh, elder! it is dreadful that liquor should be sold in polktown," janice said, from the seat of the automobile. "i'm just beginning to see it." "that's what it is," said the elder, sturdily. "it's a shame mr. parraday was ever allowed to have a license at the lake view inn." "wal--it does seem too bad," the elder agreed, but with less confidence in his tone. "i know they say the inn scarcely paid him and his wife, and he might have had to give it up this spring," janice said. "ahem! that would have been unfortunate for the mortgagee," slowly observed the old man. "mr. cross moore?" janice quickly rejoined. "well! he could afford to lose a little money if anybody could." "tut, tut!" exclaimed the elder, who had a vast respect for money. "don't say that, child. nobody can afford to lose money." janice turned her car about soberly. she saw that the ramification of this liquor selling business was far-reaching, indeed. elder concannon spoke only too truly. where self-interest was concerned most people would lean toward the side of liquor selling. "the tentacles of the monster have insinuated themselves into our social and business life, as well as into our homes," she thought. "why--why, what can _i_ do about it? just _me_, a girl all alone." chapter vii swept on by the current janice picked up trimmins on the road to town. the lanky southerner, who lived as a squatter with his ever-increasing family back in the woods, was a soft-spoken man with much innate politeness and a great distaste for regular work. he said the elder had just offered him a job in the woods that he was going to take if he could get a man to help him. "i heard you talking about it, mr. trimmins," the young girl said, with her eyes on the road ahead and her foot on the gas pedal. "i hope you will make a good thing out of it." "not likely. the elder's too close for that," responded the man, with a twinkle in his eye. "yes. i suppose that elder concannon considers a small profit sufficient. he got his money that way--by 'littles and dribbles'--and i fancy he thinks small pay is all right." "my glo-_ree_! you bet he does!" said trimmins. "but the elder never had but one--leastways, two--chillen to raise. he wouldn't ha' got rich very fast with _my_ family--no, sir!" "perhaps that is so," janice admitted. "tell ye what, miss," the woodsman went on to say, "a man ought to git paid accordin' to the mouths there is to home to feed. i was readin' in a paper t'other day that it took ten dollars a week to take proper care of a man and his wife, and there ought to be added to them ten dollars two dollars a week ev'ry time they got a baby." "why! wouldn't that be fine?" cried janice, laughing. "it sure would be a help," said trimmins, the twinkle in his eye again. "i reckon both me an' narnay would 'preciate it." "oh! you mean jim narnay?" asked janice, with sudden solemnity. "yes ma'am. i'm goin' to see him now. he's a grand feller with the axe and i want him to help me." janice wondered how much work would really be done by the two men if they were up in the woods together. yet mrs. narnay and the children might get along better without jim. janice had made some inquiries and learned that mrs. narnay was an industrious woman, working steadily over her washtub, and keeping the children in comparative comfort when jim was not at home to drink up a good share of her earnings. "are you going down to the cove to see narnay now, mr. trimmins?" janice asked, as she turned the automobile into the head of high street. "yes, ma'am. that is, if i don't find him at lem parraday's." "oh, mr. trimmins!" exclaimed janice, earnestly. "look for him at the house first. and don't you go near lem parraday's, either." "wal!" drawled the man. "i s'pose you air right, miss." "i'll drive you right down to the cove," janice said. "i want to see little sophie, and--and her mother." "whatever you say, miss," agreed the woodsman. they followed a rather rough street coveward, but arrived safely at the small collection of cottages, in one of which the narnays lived. jim narnay was evidently without money, for he sat on the front stoop, sober and rather neater than janice was used to seeing him. he was whittling a toy of some kind for the little boys, both of whom were hanging upon him. their attitude, as well as what sophie narnay had told her, assured janice that the husband and father of the household was not a cruel man when he was sober. the children still loved him, and he evidently loved them. "got a job, jim?" asked trimmins, after thanking janice for the ride, and getting out of the automobile. "not a smitch of work since i come out of the woods," admitted the bewhiskered man, rising quickly from the stoop to make way for janice. "come on, old feller," said trimmins. "i want to talk to you. if you are favorable inclined, i reckon i got jest the job you've been lookin' for." the two went off behind the cottage. janice did not know then that there was a short cut to high street and the lake view inn. sophie came running to the door to welcome the visitor, her thin little arms red and soapy from dish-water. "i knowed 'twas you," she said, smiling happily. "they told me you was the only girl in town that owned one o' them cars. and i told mom that you must be awful rich and kind. course, you must be, or you couldn't afford to give away ten cent pieces so easy." mrs. narnay came to the door, too, her arms right out of the washtub; but janice begged her not to inconvenience herself. "keep right on with your work and i'll come around to the back and sit on that stoop," said the young girl. "and you must see the baby," sophie urged. "i can bring out the baby if i wrap her up good, can't i, marm?" "have a care with the poor child, sophie," said mrs. narnay, wearily. "where's your pop gone?" "he's walked out with mr. trimmins," said the little girl. the woman sighed, and janice, all through her visit, could see that she was anxious about her absent husband. the baby was brought out--a pitifully thin, but pretty child--and sophie nursed her little sister with much enjoyment. "i wisht she was twins," confessed the little girl. "it must be awful jolly to have twins in the family." "my soul, child!" groaned mrs. narnay. "don't talk so reckless. one baby at a time is affliction enough--as ye'll find out for yourself some day." janice, leaving a little gift to be hidden from jim narnay and divided among the children, went away finally, with the determination that dr. poole should see the baby again and try to do something for the poor, little, weakly thing. trimmins and jim narnay had disappeared, and janice feared that, after all, they had drifted over to the inn, there to celebrate the discovery of the job they both professed to need so badly. "that awful bar!" janice told herself. "if it were not here in polktown those two ne'er-do-wells would have gone right about their work without any celebration at all. i guess mrs. scattergood is right--mr. lem parraday ought to be tarred and feathered for ever taking out that license! and how about the councilmen who voted to let him have it?" as she wheeled into high street once more a tall, well groomed young man, with rosy cheeks and the bluest of blue eyes, hailed her from the sidewalk. "oh, janice day!" he cried. "how's the going?" "mr. bowman! i didn't know you had returned," janice said, smiling and stopping the car. "the going is pretty good." "have you been around by the lower road where my gang is working?" "no," janice replied. "but marty says the turnout is being put in and that the bridge over the creek is almost done." "good! i'll get over there by and by to see for myself." he had set down a heavy suitcase and still held a traveling bag. "just now," he added, "i am hunting a lodging." "hunting a lodging? why! i thought you were a fixture with marm parraday," janice said. "i thought so, too. but it's got too strong for me down there. besides, it is a rule of the railroad company that we shall find board, if possible, where no liquor is sold. i had a room over the bar and it is too noisy for me at night." "marm parraday will be sorry to lose you, mr. bowman," janice said. "isn't it dreadful that they should have taken up the selling of liquor there?" "bad thing," the young civil engineer replied, promptly. "i'm sorry for marm parraday. lem ought to be kicked for ever getting the license," he added vigorously. "dear me, mr. bowman," sighed janice. "i wish everybody thought as you do. polktown needs reforming." "what! again?" cried the young man, laughing suddenly. then he added: "i expect, if that is so, you will have to start the reform, miss janice. and--and you'd better start it with your friend, hopewell drugg. really, they are making a fool of him around the inn--and he doesn't even know it." "oh, mr. bowman! what do you mean?" called janice after him; but the young man had picked up his bag and was marching away, so that he did not hear her question. before she could start her engine he had turned into a side street. she ran back up hillside avenue in good season for dinner. the potato patch was plowed and marty had gone downtown on an errand. janice backed the car into the garage and went upstairs to her room to change her dress for dinner. she was there when marty came boisterously into the kitchen. "my goodness! what's the matter with you, marty day?" asked his mother shrilly. "what's happened?" "it's nelson haley," the boy said, and janice heard him plainly, for the door at the foot of the stairs was ajar. "it's awful! they are going to arrest him!" "what do you mean, marty day? be you crazy?" mrs. day demanded. "what's this? one o' your cheap jokes?" asked the boy's father, who chanced to be in the kitchen, too. "guess nelson haley don't think it's a joke," said the boy, his voice still shaking. "i just heard all about it. there ain't many folks know it yet----" "stop that!" cried his mother. "you tell us plain what mr. haley's done." "ain't done nothin', of course. but they _say_ he has," marty stoutly maintained. "then what do they accuse him of?" queried mr. day. "they accuse him of stealin'! hi tunket! ain't that the meanest thing ye ever heard?" cried the boy. "nelson haley, stealin'. it gets _me_ for fair!" "why--why i can't believe it!" aunt 'mira gasped, and she sat down with a thud on one of the kitchen chairs. "i got it straight," marty went on to say. "the school committee's all in a row over it. ye see, they had the coins----" "_who_ had _what_ coins?" cried his mother. "the school committee. that collection of gold coins some rich feller lent the state board of education for exhibition at the lecture next friday. they only come over from middletown last night and mr. massey locked them in his safe." "wal!" murmured uncle jason. "massey brought 'em to the school this morning where the committee held a meeting. i hear the committee left the trays of coins in their room while they went downstairs to see something the matter with the heater. when they come up the trays had been skinned clean--'for a fac'!" exclaimed the excited marty. "what's that got to do with mr. haley?" demanded uncle jason, grimly. "why--he'd been in the room. i believe he don't deny he was there. nobody else was in the buildin' 'cept the janitor, and he was with massey and the others in the basement. "then coins jest disappeared--took wings and flewed away," declared marty with much earnestness. "what was they wuth?" asked his father, practically. "dunno. a lot of money. some says two thousand and some says five thousand. whichever it is, they'll put him under big bail if they arrest him." "why, they wouldn't dare!" gasped mrs. day. "say! massey and them others has got to save their own hides, ain't they?" demanded the suspicious marty. "wal. 'tain't common sense that any of the school committee should have stolen the coins," uncle jason said slowly. "mr. massey, and cross moore, and mr. middler----" "mr. middler warn't there," said marty, quickly. "he'd gone to middletown." "joe pellet and crawford there?" asked uncle jason. "all the committee but the parson," his son admitted. "and all good men," uncle jason said reflectively. "schoolhouse locked?" "so they say," marty declared. "that's what set them on nelson. only him and the janitor carry keys to the building." "who's the janitor?" asked uncle jason. "benny thread. you know, the little crooked-backed feller--lives on paige street. and, anyway, there wasn't a chance for him to get at the coins. he was with the committee all the time they was out of the room." "and are they sure mr. haley was in there?" asked aunt 'mira. "he admits it," marty said gloomily. "i don't know what's going to come of it all----" "hush!" said uncle jason suddenly. "shut that door." but it was too late, janice had heard all. she came down into the kitchen, pale-faced and with eyes that blazed with indignation. she had not removed her hat. "come, uncle jason," she said, brokenly. "i want you to go downtown with me. if nelson is in trouble we must help him." "drat that boy!" growled uncle jason, scowling at marty. "he's a reg'lar big mouth! he has to tell ev'rything he knows all over the shop." chapter viii real trouble it seemed to janice day as though the drift of trouble, which had set her way with the announcement by her father of his unfortunate situation among the yaqui indians, had now risen to an overwhelming height. 'rill's secret misgivings regarding hopewell drugg, little lottie's peril of blindness, the general tendency of polktown as a whole to suffer the bad effects of liquor selling at the tavern--all these things had added to janice's anxiety. now, on the crest of the threatening wave, rode this happening to nelson haley, an account of which marty had brought home. "come, uncle jason," she said again to mr. day. "you must come with me. if nelson is arrested and taken before justice little, the justice will listen to _you_. you are a property owner. if they put nelson under bail----" "hold your hosses," interrupted uncle jason, yet not unkindly. "noah didn't build the ark in a day. we'd best go slow about this." "slow!" repeated janice. "i guess you wouldn't talk about bein' slow, jason day, if _you_ was arrested," aunt 'mira interjected. "ma's right," said marty. "mebbe they'll put him in the cell under the town hall 'fore you kin get downtown." "there ain't no sech haste as all that," stated uncle jason. "what's the matter of you folks?" he spoke rather testily, and janice looked at him in surprise. "why, uncle!" she cried, "what do you mean? it's nelson haley who is in trouble." "i mean to eat my dinner fust of all," said her uncle firmly. "and so had you better, my gal. a man can't be expected to go right away to court an' put up every dollar he's got in the world for bail, until he's thought it over a little, and knows something more about the trouble." "why, jason!" exploded aunt 'mira. "of course mr. haley is innocent and you will help him." "hi tunket, dad!" cried marty. "you ain't goin' back on nelson?" janice was silent. her uncle did not look at her, but drew his chair to the table. "i ain't goin' back on nobody," he said steadily. "but i can't do nothing to harm my own folks. if, as you say, marty, them coins is so vallible, his bail'll be consider'ble--for a fac'. if i put up this here property that we got, an'--an' anything happens--not that i say anythin' will happen--where'd we be?" "what ever do ye mean, jason day?" demanded his wife. "that nelson haley would run away?" "ahem! we don't know how strongly the young man's been tempted," said mr. day doggedly. "uncle!" cried janice, aghast. "dad!" exclaimed marty. "jase day! for the land's sake!" concluded aunt 'mira. "sit down and eat your dinner, janice," said uncle jason a second time, ignoring his wife and son. "remember, i got a duty to perform to your father as well as to you. what would broxton day do in this case?" "i--i don't know, uncle jason," janice said faintly. "fust of all, he wouldn't let you git mixed up in nothin' that would make the neighbors talk about ye," mr. day said promptly. "now, whether nelson haley is innercent or guilty, there is bound ter be slathers of talk about this thing and about ev'rybody connected with it." "he is not guilty, uncle," said janice, quietly. "that's my opinion, too," said mr. day, bluntly. "but i want the pertic'lars, jest the same. i want to know all about it. where there's so much smoke there must be some fire." "not allus, dad," growled marty, in disgust. "smoke comes from an oak-ball, but there ain't no fire." "you air a smart young man," returned his father, coolly. "you'll grow up to be the town smartie, like walky dexter, i shouldn't wonder. nelson must ha' done somethin' to put himself in bad in this thing, and i want to know what it is he done." "he went into the schoolhouse," grumbled marty. "howsomever," pursued mr. day, "if they shut nelson haley up on this charge and he ain't guilty, we who know him best will git together and bail him out, if that seems best." "'if that seems best!'" repeated aunt 'mira. "jason day! i'm glad the lord didn't make me such a moderate critter as you be." "you're a great friend of nelse haley--i don't think!" muttered marty. but janice said nothing more. that uncle jason did not rush to nelson's relief as she would have done had it been in her power, was not so strange. janice was a singularly just girl. the hurt was there, nevertheless. she could not help feeling keenly the fact that everybody in polktown did not respond at once to nelson's need. that he should be accused of stealing the collection of coins was preposterous indeed. yet janice was sensible enough to know that there would be those in the village only too ready and willing to believe ill of the young schoolmaster. nelson haley's character was not wishy-washy. he had made everybody respect him. his position as principal of the school gave him almost as much importance in the community as the minister. but not all the polktown folk loved nelson haley. he had made enemies as well as friends since coming to the lakeside town. there were those who would seize upon this incident, no matter how slightly the evidence might point to nelson, and make "a mountain of a molehill." nelson was a poor young man. he had come to polktown with college debts to pay off out of his salary. to those who were not intimately acquainted with the school-teacher's character, it would not seem such an impossibility that he should yield to temptation where money was concerned. but to janice the thought was not only abhorrent, it was ridiculous. she would have believed herself capable of stealing quite as soon as she would have believed the accusation against nelson. yet she could not blame uncle jason for his calm attitude in this event. it was his nature to be moderate and careful. she did not scold like aunt 'mira, nor mutter and glare like marty. she could not, however, eat any dinner. it was nerve-racking to sit there, playing with her fork, awaiting uncle jason's pleasure. janice's eyes were tearless. she had learned ere this, in the school of hard usage, to control her emotions. not many girls of her age could have set off finally with mr. day for the town with so quiet a mien. for she insisted upon accompanying her uncle on this quest. she felt that she could not remain quietly at home and wait upon his leisurely report of the situation. first of all they learned that no attempt had been made as yet to curtail the young schoolmaster's liberty; otherwise the situation was quite as bad as marty had so eagerly reported. the collection of gold coins, valued at fifteen hundred dollars, had been left in the committee room next to the principal's office in the new school building. it being saturday, the outer doors of the building were locked--or supposedly so. benny thread, the janitor, was with the four committeemen in the basement for a little more than half an hour. during that half-hour nelson haley had entered the school building, using his pass key, had been to his office, and entered the committee room, and from thence departed, all while the committee was below stairs. he had been seen both going in and coming out by the neighbors. he carried his school bag in both instances. the collection of coins was of some weight; but nelson could have carried that weight easily. the committee, upon returning to the second floor and finding the trays empty, had at once sent for nelson and questioned him. in their first excitement over the loss of the coins, they had been unwise enough to state the trouble and their suspicions to more than one person. in an hour the story, with many additions, had spread over polktown. a fire before a high wind could have traveled no faster. uncle jason listened, digested, and made up his mind. although a moderate man, he thought to some purpose. he was soon satisfied that the four committeemen, having got over their first fright, would do nothing rash. and janice had much to thank her uncle for in this emergency; for he was outspoken, once having formed an opinion in the matter. finding the four committeemen in the drugstore, uncle jason berated them soundly: "i did think you four fellers was safe to be let toddle about alone. i swan i did! but here ye ac' jest like ye was nuthin' but babies! "jest because ye acted silly and left that money open for the fust comer to pocket, ye hafter run about an' squeal, layin' it all to the fust person that come that way. if mr. middler or elder concannon had come inter that school buildin', i s'pose it'd ha' been jest the same. you fellers would aimed ter put it on them--one or t'other. i'm ashamed of ye." "wal, jase day, you're so smart," drawled cross moore, "who d'ye reckon could ha' took the coins?" "most anybody _could_. mr. haley sartinly did _not_," uncle jason returned, briskly. "how d'ye know so much?" demanded massey, the druggist. "'cause i know him," rejoined mr. day, quite as promptly as before. "aw--that's only talk," said joe pellet, pulling his beard reflectively. "mr. haley's a nice young man----" "i've knowed him since ever he come inter this town," mr. day interrupted, with energy. "he's too smart ter do sech a thing, even if he was so inclined. you fellers seem ter think he's an idiot. what! steal them coins when he's the only person 'cept the janitor that's knowed to have a key to the school building? "huh!" pursued uncle jason, with vast disgust. "you fellers must have a high opinion of your own judgment, when you choosed mr. haley to teach this school. did ye hire a nincompoop, i wanter know? why! if he'd wanted ever so much ter steal them coins, he'd hafter been a fule ter done it in this way." "there's sense in what ye say, jason," admitted mr. crawford. "i sh'd hope so! but there ain't sense in what you fellers have done--for a fac! lettin' sech a story as this git all over town. by jiminy! if i was mr. haley, i'd sue ye!" "but what are we goin' ter do, jason?" demanded cross moore. "sit here an' twiddle our thumbs, and let that feller 't owns the coins come down on us for their value?" "you'll have to make good to him anyway," said mr. day, bluntly. "you four air responserble." "hi tunket!" exploded joe pellet. "and let the thief git away with 'em?" "better git a detecertif, an' put him on the case," said mr. day. "of course, you air all satisfied that nobody could ha' got into the schoolhouse but mr. haley?" "he an' benny is all that has keys," said massey. "sure about this here janitor?" asked uncle jason, slowly. "why, he was with us all the time," said crawford, in disgust. "and he's a hardworkin' little feller, too," massey added. "not a thing wrong with benny but his back. that is crooked; but he's as straight as a string." "how's his fambly?" asked uncle jason. "ain't got none--but a wife. a decent, hard-working woman," proclaimed the druggist. "no children. her brother boards with 'em. that's all." "well, sir!" said uncle jason, oracularly. "there air some things in this worl' ye kin be sure of, besides death and taxes. there's a few things connected with this case that ye kin pin down. f'r instance: the janitor didn't do it. nelse haley didn't do it. none o' you four fellers done it." "say! you goin' to drag us under suspicion, jase?" drawled cross moore. "if you keep on sputterin' about nelse haley--yes," snapped mr. day, nodding vigorously. "howsomever, there's still another party ter which the finger of suspicion p'ints." "who's that?" was the chorus from the school committee. "a party often heard of in similar cases," said mr. day, solemnly. "his name is _unknown_! yes, sir! some party unknown entered that building while you fellers was down cellar, same as nelson haley did. this party, unknown, stole the coins." "aw, shucks, jase!" grunted mr. cross moore. "you got to give us something more satisfactory than that if you want to shunt us off'n nelson haley's trail," and the other three members of the school committee nodded. chapter ix how nelson took it something more than mere curiosity drew janice day's footsteps toward the new school building. there were other people drawn in the same direction; but their interest was not like hers. somehow, this newest bit of gossip in polktown could be better discussed at the scene of the strange robbery itself. icivilly sprague and mabel woods walked there, arm in arm, passing janice by with side glances and the tossing of heads. icivilly and mabel had attended nelson's school the first term after miss 'rill scattergood gave up teaching; but finding the young schoolmaster impervious to their charms, they had declared themselves graduated. they were not alone among the older girls who found nelson provokingly adamant. he did not flirt. of late it had become quite apparent that the schoolmaster had eyes only for janice day. of course, that fact did not gain nelson friends among girls like icivilly and mabel in this time of trial. janice knew that they were whispering about her as she passed; but her real thought was given to more important matters. uncle jason had told her just how the affair of the robbery stood. there was a mystery--a deep, deep mystery about it. in the group about the front gate of the school premises were jim narnay and trimmins, the woodsmen. both had been drinking and were rather hilarious and talkative. at least, trimmins was so. "wish _we'd_ knowed there was all that cash so free and open up here in the schoolhouse--heh, jim?" trimmins said, smiting his brother toper between the shoulders. "we wouldn't be diggin' out for no swamp to haul logs." "you're mighty right, trimmins! you're mighty right!" agreed the drunken narnay. "gotter leave m' fambly--hate ter do it!" and he became very lachrymose. "ter'ble thing, trimmins, f'r a man ter be sep'rated from his fambly jest so's ter airn his livin'." "right ye air, old feller," agreed the southerner. "hullo! here's the buddy we're waitin' for. how long d'ye s'pose he'll last, loggin?" janice saw the ex-drug clerk, jack besmith, mounting the hill with a pack on his back. rough as the two lumbermen were, besmith looked the more dissolute character, despite his youth. the trio went away together, bound evidently for one of elder concannon's pieces of woodland, over the mountain. benny thread came out of the school building and locked the door importantly behind him. several of the curious ones surrounded the little man and tried to get him into conversation upon the subject of the robbery. "no, i can't talk," he said, shaking his head. "i can't, really. the gentlemen of the school committee have forbidden me. why--only think! it was more by good luck than good management that i wasn't placed in a position where i could be suspected of the robbery. lucky i was with the committeemen every moment of the time they were down cellar. no, i am not suspected, thanks be! but i must not talk--i must not talk." it was evident that he wanted to talk and he could be over-urged to talk if the right pressure was brought to bear. janice came away, leaving the eagerly curious pecking at him--the one white blackbird in the flock. uncle jason had given her some blunt words of encouragement. janice felt that she must see nelson personally and cheer him up, if that were possible. at least, she must tell him how she--and, indeed, all his friends--had every confidence in him. some people whom she met as she went up high street looked at her curiously. janice held her head at a prouder angle and marched up the hill toward mrs. beaseley's. she ignored these curious glances. but there was no escaping mrs. scattergood. that lover of gossip must have been sitting behind her blind, peering down high street, and waiting for janice's appearance. she hurried out of the house, beckoning to the girl eagerly. janice could not very well refuse to approach, so she walked on up the hill beyond the side street on which mrs. beaseley's cottage stood, and met the birdlike little woman at her gate. "for the good land's sake, janice day!" exploded mrs. scattergood. "i was wonderin' if you'd never git up here. surely, you've heard abeout this drefful thing, ain't you?" janice knew there was no use in evasion with mrs. scattergood. she boldly confessed. "yes, mrs. scattergood, i have heard about it. and i think mr. cross moore and those others ought to be ashamed of themselves--letting people think for a moment that mr. haley took those coins." "who _did_ take 'em?" asked the woman, eagerly. "have they found out?" "why, nobody but the person who really is the thief knows who stole the coins; but of course everybody who knows nelson at all, is sure that it was not mr. haley." "wal--they gotter lay it to somebody," mrs. scattergood said, rather doubtfully. "that's the best them useless men could do," she added, with that birdlike toss of the head that was so familiar to janice. "if there'd been a woman around, they'd laid it on to her. oh! i know 'em all--the hull kit an' bilin' of 'em." janice tried to smile at this; but the woman's beadlike eyes seemed to be boring with their glance right through the girl and this made her extremely uncomfortable. "i expect you feel pretty bad, janice day," went on mrs. scattergood. "but it's allus the way. you'll find as you grow older that there ain't much in this world for females, young or old, but trouble." "why, mrs. scattergood!" cried the girl, and this time she did call up a merry look. "what have you to trouble you? you have the nicest time of any person i know--unless it is mrs. marvin petrie. no family to trouble you; enough to live on comfortably; nothing to do but go visiting--or stay at home if you'd rather----" "tut, tut, tut, child! all is not gold that glitters," was the quick reply. "i ain't so happy as ye may think. i have my troubles. but, thanks be! they ain't abeout men. but you've begun yours, i kin see." "yes, i am troubled because mr. haley is falsely accused," admitted janice, stoutly. "wal--yes. i expect you air. and if it ain't no worse than you believe--wal! i said you was a new-fashioned gal when i fust set eyes on you that day comin' up from the landing in the old _constance colfax_; and you be." "how am i different from other girls?" asked janice, curiously. "wal! most gals would wait till they was sure the young man wasn't goin' to be arrested before they ran right off to see him. but mebbe it's because you ain't got your own mother and father to tell ye diff'rent." janice flushed deeply at this and her eyes sparkled. "i am sure aunt 'mira and uncle jason would have told me not to call on nelson if they did not believe just as i do--that he is guiltless and that all his friends should show him at once that they believe in him." "hoity-toity! mebbe so," said the woman, tartly. "them days never did have right good sense--yer uncle an' aunt, i mean. when _i_ was a gal we wouldn't have been allowed to have so much freedom where the young fellers was consarned." janice was quite used to mrs. scattergood's sharp tongue; but it was hard to bear her strictures on this occasion. "i hope it is not wrong for me to show my friend that i trust and believe in him," she said firmly, and nodding good-bye, turned abruptly away. of herself, or of what the neighbors thought of her conduct, janice day thought but little. she went on to mrs. beaseley's cottage, solely anxious on nelson's account. she found the widow in tears, for selfishly immured as mrs. beaseley was in her ten-year-old grief over the loss of her "sainted charles," she was a dear, soft-hearted woman and had come to look upon nelson haley almost as her son. "oh, janice day! what ever are we going to do for him?" was her greeting, the moment the girl entered the kitchen. "if my poor, dear charles were alive i know he would be furiously angry with mr. cross moore and those other men. oh! i cannot bear to think of how angry he would be, for charles had a very stern temper. "and mr. haley is such a pleasant young man. as i tell 'em all, a nicer and quieter person never lived in any lone female's house. and to think of their saying such dreadful things about him! i am sure _i_ never thought of locking anything away from mr. haley in this house--and there's the 'leven sterling silver teaspoons that belonged to poor, dear charles' mother, and the gold-lined sugar-basin that was my aunt abby's, and the sugar tongs--although they're bent some. "why! mr. haley is jest one of the nicest young gentlemen that ever was. and here he comes home, pale as death, and won't eat no dinner. janice, think of it! i allus have said, and i stick to it, that if one can eat they'll be all right. my sainted charles," she added, stating for the thousandth time an uncontrovertible fact, "would be alive to this day if he had continued to eat his victuals!" "i'd like to speak to mr. haley," janice said, finally "getting a word in edgewise." "of course. maybe he'll let you in," said the widow. "he won't me, but i think he favors you, janice," she added innocently, shaking her head with a continued mournful air. "he come right in and said: 'mother beaseley, i don't believe i can eat any dinner to-day,' and then shut and locked his door. i didn't know what had happened till 'rene hopper, she that works for mrs. cross moore, run in to borry my heavy flat-iron, an' she tol' me about the stolen money. ain't it _awful_?" "i--i hope nelson will let me speak to him, mrs. beaseley," stammered janice, finding it very difficult now to keep her tears back. "you go right along the hall and knock at his door," whispered mrs. beaseley, hoarsely. "an' you tell him i've got his dinner down on the stove-hearth, 'twixt plates, a-keepin' it hot for him." janice did as she was bidden as far as knocking at the door of the front room was concerned. there was no answer at first--not a sound from within. she rapped a second time. "i am sorry, mrs. beaseley; i could not possibly eat any dinner to-day," nelson's voice finally replied. there was no tremor in the tone of it. janice knew just how proud the young man was, and no matter how bitterly he was hurt by this trouble that had fallen upon him, he would not easily reveal his feelings. she put her lips close to the crack of the door. "nelson!" she whispered. "nelson!" a little louder. she heard him spring to his feet and overturn the chair in which he had been sitting. "nelson! it's only me," janice quavered, the pulse beating painfully in her throat. "let me in--do!" he came across the room slowly. she heard him fumble at the key and knob. then the door opened. "oh, nelson!" she repeated, when she saw him in the darkened parlor. the pallor of his face went to her heart. his hair was disheveled; his eyes red from weeping. after all, he was just a big boy in trouble, and with no mother to comfort him. all the maternal instincts of janice day's nature went out to the young fellow. "nelson! nelson!" she cried, under her breath. "you poor, poor boy! i'm so sorry for you." "janice--you----" he stammered, and could not finish the phrase. she cried, emphatically: "of course i believe in you, nelson. we _all_ do! you must not take it so to heart. you will not bear it all alone, nelson. every friend you have in polktown will help you." she had come close to him, her hands fluttering upon his breast and her eyes, sparkling with teardrops, raised to his face. "oh, janice!" he groaned, and swept her into his arms. chapter x how polktown took it that was a very serious saturday night at the old day house, as well as at the beaseley cottage. aunt 'mira had whispered to janice before the girl had set forth with her uncle in the afternoon: "bring him home to supper with ye, child--the poor young man! we got to cheer him up, betwixt us. i'm goin' to have raised biscuits and honey. he does dote on light bread." but nelson would not come. janice had succeeded in encouraging him to a degree; but the young schoolmaster was too seriously wounded, both in his self-respect and at heart, to wish to mingle on this evening with any of his fellow-townsmen--even those who were his declared friends and supporters. "don't look for me at church to-morrow, either, janice," the young man said. "it may seem cowardly; but i cannot face all these people and ignore this disgrace." "it is _not_ disgrace, nelson!" janice cried hotly. "it is, my dear girl. one does not have to be guilty to be disgraced by such an accusation. i may be a coward; i don't know. at least, i feel it too keenly to march into church to-morrow and know that everybody is whispering about me. why, janice, i might break down and make a complete fool of myself." "oh, no, nelson!" "i might. even the children will know all about it and will stare at me. i have to face them on monday morning, and by that time i may have recovered sufficient self-possession to ignore their glances and whispers." and with that decision janice was obliged to leave him. "the poor, foolish boy!" aunt 'mira said. "don't he know we all air sufferin' with him?" but uncle jason seemed better to appreciate the schoolmaster's attitude. "i don't blame him none. he's jest like a dog with a hurt paw--wants ter crawl inter his kennel and lick his wounds. it's a tough propersition, for a fac'." "he needn't be afraid that the fellers will guy him," growled marty. "if they do, i'll lick 'em!" "oh, marty! all of them?" cried janice, laughing at his vehemence, yet tearful, too. "well--all i _can_," declared her cousin. "and there ain't many i can't, you bet." "if you was as fond of work as ye be of fightin', marty," returned mr. day, drily, "you sartin sure'd be a wonderful feller." "ya-as," drawled his son but in a very low tone, "maw says i'm growin' more'n more like you, every day." "marty," janice put in quickly, before the bickering could go any further, "did you see little lottie? it was so late when i came out of mrs. beaseley's, i ran right home." "i seed her," her cousin said gloomily. "how air her poor eyes?" asked aunt 'mira. "they're not poor eyes. they're as good as anybody's eyes," marty cried, with exasperation. "wal--they say she's' goin' blind again," said tactless aunt 'mira. "i say she ain't! she ain't!" ejaculated marty. "all foolishness. i don't believe a thing them doctors say. she's got just as nice eyes as anybody'd want." "that is true, marty," janice said soothingly; but she sighed. the door was open, for the evening was mild. on the damp spring breeze the sound of a husky voice was wafted up the street and into the old day house. "hello!" grunted uncle jason, "who's this singin' bird a-comin' up the hill? tain't never walky a-singin' like that, is it?" "it's walky; but it ain't him singin'," chuckled marty. "huh?" queried uncle jason. "it's lem parraday's whiskey that's doin' the singin'," explained the boy. "hi tunket! listen to that ditty, will ye?" "'i wish't i was a rock a-settin' on a hill, a-doin' nothin' all day long but jest a-settin' still,'" roared walky, who was letting the patient josephus take his own gait up hillside avenue. "for the good land o' goshen!" cried aunt 'mira. "what's the matter o' that feller? has he taken leave of his senses, a-makin' of the night higeous in that-a-way? who ever told walky dexter 't he could sing?" "it's what he's been drinking that's doing the singing, i tell ye," said her son. "poor walky!" sighed janice. the expressman's complaint of his hard lot continued to rise in song: "'i wouldn't eat, i wouldn't sleep, i wouldn't even wash; i'd jest set still a thousand years, and rest myself, b'gosh!'" "whoa, josephus!" he had pulled the willing josephus (willing at all times to stop) into the open gateway of the old day place. marty went out on the porch to hail him. "'i wish i was a bump a-settin' on a log, baitin' m' hook with a flannel shirt for to ketch a frog! "and when i'd ketched m' frog, i'd rescue of m' bait-- an' what a mess of frog's hind laigs i _wouldn't_ have ter ate!'" "come on in, walky, and rest your voice." "you be gittin' to be a smart young chap, marty," proclaimed walky, coming slowly up the steps with a package for mrs. day and his book to be signed. the odor of spirits was wafted before him. walky's face was as round and red as an august full moon. "how-do, janice," he said. "what d'yeou think of them fule committeemen startin' this yarn abeout nelson haley?" "what do folks say about it, walky?" cut in mr. day, to save his niece the trouble of answering. "jest erbeout what you'd think they would," the philosophical expressman said, shaking his head. "them that's got venom under their tongues, must spit it aout if they open their lips at all. polktown's jest erbeout divided--the gossips in one camp and the kindly talkin' people in t'other. one crowd says mr. haley would steal candy from a blind baby, an' t'other says his overcoat fits him so tight across't the shoulders 'cause his wings is sproutin'. haw! haw! haw!" "and what d' ye say, mr. dexter?" asked aunt 'mira, bluntly. the expressman puckered his lips into a curious expression. "i tell ye what," he said. "knowin' mr. haley as i do, i'm right sure he's innercent as the babe unborn. but, jefers-pelters! who _could_ ha' done it?" "why, walky!" gasped janice. "i know. it sounds awful, don't it?" said the expressman. "i don't whisper a word of this to other folks. but considerin' that the schoolhouse doors was locked and mr. haley had the only other key besides the janitor, who air massey and them others goin' to blame for the robbery?" "they air detarmined to save their own hides if possible," uncle jason grumbled. "natcherly--natcherly," returned walky. "we know well enough none o' them four men of the school committee took the coins, nor benny thread, neither. they kin all swear alibi for each other and sartain sure they didn't all conspire ter steal the money and split it up 'twixt 'em. haw! haw! haw! 'twouldn't hardly been wuth dividin' into five parts," he added, his red face all of a grin. "that sounds horrid, mr. dexter," said aunt 'mira. "wal, it's practical sense," the expressman said, wagging his head. "it's a problem for one o' them smart detecatifs ye read abeout in the magazines--one o' them like they have in stories. i read abeout one of 'em in a story. yeou leave him smell the puffumery on a gal's handkerchief and he'll tell right away whether she was a blonde or a brunette, an' what size glove she wore! haw! haw! haw! "this ain't no laughing matter, walky," mr. day said, with a side glance at janice. "better laff than cry," declared walky. "howsomever, folks seed mr. haley go into the schoolhouse and come out ag'in----" "he told the committee he had been there," janice interrupted. "that's right, too. mebbe not so many folks would ha' knowed they'd seen him there if he hadn't up and said so. proberbly there was ha'f a dozen other folks hangin' abeout the schoolhouse, too, at jest the time the coin collection was stole; but they ain't remembered 'cause they didn't up and tell on themselves." "oh, walky!" gasped the girl, startled by the suggestion. "wal," drawled the expressman, in continuation, "that ain't no good to us, for nobody had a key to the door but him and benny thread." "i wonder----" murmured janice; but said no more. "it's a scanderlous thing," walky pursued, receiving his book back and preparing to join josephus at the gate. "goin' ter split things wide open in polktown, i reckon. 'twill be wuss'n a church row 'fore it finishes. already there's them that says we'd oughter have another teacher in mr. haley's place." "oh, my!" cried aunt 'mira. "ain't willin' ter give the young feller a chance't at all, heh?" said mr. day, puffing hard at his pipe. "wall! we'll see abeout _that_." "we'd never have a better teacher, i tell 'em," walky flung back over his shoulder. "but mr. haley's drawin' a good salary and there's them that think it oughter go ter somebody that belongs here in polktown, not to an outsider like him." "hi tunket!" cried marty, after walky had gone. "there ye have it. miss pearly breeze, that used ter substi-_toot_ for 'rill scattergood, has wanted the school ever since mr. haley come. she'd do fine tryin' to be principal of a graded school--i don't think!" "oh, don't talk so, i beg of you," janice said. "of course nelson won't lose his school. if he did, under these circumstances, he could never go to millhampton college to teach. why! perhaps his career as a teacher would be irrevocably ruined." "now, don't ye take on so, janice," cried aunt 'mira, with her arm about the girl. "it won't be like that. it _can't_ be so bad--can it, jason?" "we mustn't let it go that fur," declared her spouse, fully aroused now. "consarn walky dexter, anyway! i guess, as marty says, what he puts in his mouth talks as well as sings for him. "i snum!" added the farmer, shaking his head. "i dunno which is the biggest nuisance, an ill-natered gossip or a good-natered one. walky claims ter feel friendly to mr. haley, and then comes here with all the unfriendly gossip he kin fetch. huh! i ain't got a mite o' use fer sech folks." uncle jason was up, pacing the kitchen back and forth in his stocking feet. he was much stirred over janice's grief. aunt 'mira was in tears, too. marty went out on the porch, ostensibly for a pail of fresh water, but really to cover his emotion. none of them could comfortably bear the sight of janice's tears. as marty started the pump a boy ran into the yard and up the steps. "hullo, jimmy gallagher, what you want?" demanded marty. "i'm after janice day. got a note for her," said the urchin. "hey, janice!" called her cousin; but the young girl was already out on the porch. "what is it, jimmy? has nelson----" "here's a note from miz' drugg. said for me to give it to ye," said the boy, as he clattered down the steps again. chapter xi "men must work while women must weep" janice brought the letter indoors to read by the light of the kitchen lamp. her heart fluttered, for she feared that it was something about nelson. the drugg domicile was almost across the street from the beaseley cottage and the girl did not know but that 'rill had been delegated to tell her something of moment about the young schoolmaster. marty, too, was eagerly curious. "hey, janice! what's the matter?" he whispered, at her shoulder. "mr. drugg has to be away this evening and she is afraid to stay in the house and store alone. she wants me to come over and spend the night with her. may i, auntie?" "of course, child--go if you like," aunt 'mira said briskly. "you've been before." twice mr. drugg had been away buying goods and janice had spent the night with 'rill and little lottie. "though what protection i could be to them if a burglar broke in, i'm sure i don't know," janice had said, laughingly, on a former occasion. she went upstairs to pack her handbag rather gravely. she was glad to go to the drugg place to remain through the night. she would be near nelson haley! somehow, she felt that being across the street from the schoolmaster would be a comfort. when she came downstairs marty had his hat and coat on. "i'll go across town with ye--and carry the bag," he proposed. "going to the reading room, anyway." "that's nice of you, marty," she said, trying to speak in her usual cheery manner. janice was rather glad it was a moonless evening as she walked side by side with her cousin down hillside avenue. it was one of the first warm evenings of the spring and the neighbors were on their porches, or gossiping at the gates and boundary fences. what about? ah! too well did janice day know the general subject of conversation this night in polktown. "come on, janice," grumbled marty. "don't let any of those old cats stop you. they've all got their claws sharpened up." "hush, marty!" she begged, yet feeling a warm thrill at her heart because of the boy's loyalty. "there's that old benny thread!" exploded marty, as they came out on the high street. "oh! he's as important now as a billy-goat on an ash-heap. you'd think, to hear him, that he'd stole the coins himself--only he didn't have no chance't. he and jack besmith wouldn't ha' done a thing to that bunch of money--no, indeed!--if they'd got hold of it." "why, marty!" put in janice; "you shouldn't say that." then, with sudden curiosity, she added: "what has that drug clerk got to do with the janitor of the school building?" "he's benny's brother-in-law. but jack's left town, i hear." "he's gone with trimmins and narnay into the woods," janice said thoughtfully. "so _he's_ out of it," grumbled marty. "jack went up to massey's the other night to try to get his old job back, and massey turned him out of the store. told him his breath smothered the smell of iodoform in the back shop," and marty giggled. "that's how jack come to get a pint and wander up into our sheep fold to sleep it off." "oh, dear, marty," sighed janice, "this drinking in polktown is getting to be a dreadful thing. see how walky dexter was to-night." "yep." "everything that's gone wrong lately is the fault of lem parraday's bar." "huh! i wonder?" questioned marty. "guess nelse haley won't lay _his_ trouble to liquor drinking." "no? i wonder----" "here's the library building, janice," interrupted the boy. "want me to go any further with you?" "no, dear," she said, taking the bag from him. "tell aunt 'mira i'll be home in the morning in time enough to dress for church." "aw-right." "and, marty!" "yep?" returned he, turning back. "i see there's a light in the basement of the library building. what's going on?" "we fellers are holding a meeting," said marty, importantly. "i called it this afternoon. i don't mind telling you, janice, that we're going to pass resolutions backing up mr. haley--pass him a vote of confidence. that's what they do in lodges and other societies. and if any of the fellers renege tonight on this, i'll--i'll--well, i'll show 'em somethin'!" finished marty, very red in the face and threatening as he dived down the basement steps. "oh, well," thought janice, encouraged after all. "nelson has some loyal friends." she came to the store on the side street without further incident. she looked across timidly at nelson's windows. a lamp burned dimly there, so she knew he was at home. indeed, where would he go--to whom turn in his trouble? aside from an old maiden aunt who had lent him enough of her savings to enable him to finish his college course, nelson had no relatives alive. he had no close friend, either young or old, but herself, janice knew. "oh, if daddy were only home from mexico!" was her unspoken thought, as she lifted the latch of the store door. there were no customers at this hour; but it was hopewell drugg's custom to keep the store open until nine o'clock every evening, and saturday night until a much later hour. every neighborhood store must do this to keep trade. "i'm so glad to see you, janice," 'rill proclaimed, without coming from behind the counter. "you'll stay?" "surely. don't you see my bag?" returned janice gaily. "is mr. drugg going to be away all night?" "he--he could not be sure. it's another dance," 'rill said, rather apologetically. "he feels he must play when he can. every five dollars counts, you know, and hopewell is sure that lottie will have to go back to the school." "where is the dance?" asked janice gravely. "down at the inn?" "yes," replied the wife, quite as seriously, and dropping her gaze. "oh! i hear my janice! i hear my janice day!" cried lottie's sweet, shrill voice from the rear apartment and she came running out into the store to meet the visitor. "have a care! have a care, dear!" warned 'rill. "look where you run." janice, seeing more clearly from where she stood in front of the counter, was aware that the child ran toward her with her hands outstretched, and with her eyes tightly closed--just as she used to do before her eyes were treated and she had been to the famous boston physician. "oh, lottie dear!" she exclaimed, taking the little one into her arms. "you will run into something. you will hurt yourself. why don't you look where you are going?" "i _do_ look," lottie responded pouting. then she wriggled all her ten fingers before janice's face. "don't you see my lookers? i can see--oh! so nicely!--with my fingers. you know i always could, janice day." 'rill shook her head and sighed. it was plain the bride was a very lenient stepmother indeed--perhaps too lenient. she loved hopewell drugg's child so dearly that she could not bear to correct her. lottie had always had her own way with her father; and matters had not changed, janice could see. "mamma 'rill," lottie coaxed, patting her step-mother's pink cheek, "you'll let me sit up longer, 'cause janice is here--won't you?" of course 'rill could not refuse her. so the child sat there, blinking at the store lights like a little owl, until finally she sank down in the old cushioned armchair behind the stove and fell fast asleep. occasionally customers came in; but between whiles janice and the storekeeper's wife could talk. the racking "clump, clump, clump," of a big-footed farm horse sounded without and a woman's nasal voice called a sharp: "whoa! whoa, there! now, emmy, you git aout and hitch him to that there post. ain't no ring to it? wal! i don't see what hope drugg's thinkin' of--havin' no rings to his hitchin' posts. he ain't had none to that one long's i kin remember." "here comes mrs. si leggett," said 'rill to janice. "she's a particular woman and i am sorry hopewell isn't here himself. usually she comes in the afternoon. she is late with her saturday's shopping this time." "take this basket of eggs--easy, now, emmy!" shrilled the woman's voice. "handle 'em careful--handle 'em like they _was_ eggs!" a heavy step, and a lighter step, on the porch, and then the store door opened. the woman was tall and raw-boned. she wore a sunbonnet of fine green and white stripes. emmy was a lanky child of fourteen or so, with slack, flaxen hair and a perfectly colorless face. "haow-do, miz' drugg," said the newcomer, putting a large basket of eggs carefully on the counter. "what's hopewell givin' for eggs to-day?" "just what everybody else is, mrs. leggett. twenty-two cents. that's the market price." "wal--seems ter me i was hearin' that mr. sprague daowntown was a-givin' twenty-three," said the customer slowly. "perhaps he is, mrs. leggett. but mr. drugg cannot afford to give even a penny above the market price. of course, either cash or trade--just as you please." "wal, i want some things an' i wasn't kalkerlatin' to go 'way daowntown ter-night--it's so late," said mrs. leggett. 'rill smiled and waited. "twenty-two's the best you kin do?" queried the lanky woman querulously. "that is the market price." "wal! lemme see some cheap gingham. it don't matter abeout the pattern. it's only for emmy here, and it don't matter what 'tis that covers her bones' long's it does cover 'em. will this fade?" "i don't think so," mrs. drugg said, opening the bolt of goods so that the customer could get at it better. janice watched, much amused. the woman pulled at the piece one way, and then another, wetting it meantime and rubbing it with her fingers to ascertain if the colors were fast. she was apparently unable to satisfy herself regarding it. finally she produced a small pair of scissors and snipped off a tiny piece and handed it to emmy. "here, emmy," she said, "you spit aout that there gum an' chew on this here awhile ter see if it fades any." janice dodged behind the post to hide the expression of amusement that she could not control. she wondered how 'rill could remain so placid and unruffled. emmy took the piece of goods, clapped it into her mouth with the most serious expression imaginable, and went to work. her mother said: "ye might's well count the eggs, miz' drugg. i make 'em eight dozen and ten. i waited late for the rest of the critters ter lay; but they done fooled me ter-day--for a fac'!" emmy having chewed on the gingham to her mother's complete satisfaction, mrs. leggett finished making her purchases and they departed. then 'rill and her guest could talk again. naturally the conversation almost at the beginning turned upon nelson haley's trouble. "it is terrible!" 'rill said. "mr. moore and those others never could have thought what they were doing when they accused mr. haley of stealing." "they were afraid that they would have to make good for the coins, and felt that they must blame somebody," janice replied with a sigh. "of course, hopewell went right over to tell the schoolmaster what he thought about it as soon as the story reached us. hopewell thinks highly of the young man, you know." "until this thing happened, i thought almost everybody thought highly of him," said janice, with a sob. "oh, my dear!" cried 'rill, tearful herself, "there is such gossip in polktown. so many people are ready to make ill-natured and untruthful remarks about one----" janice knew to what secret trouble the storekeeper's wife referred. "i know!" she exclaimed, wiping away her own tears. "they have talked horridly about mr. drugg." "it is untruthful! it is unfair!" exclaimed hopewell drugg's wife, her cheeks and eyes suddenly ablaze with indignation. to tell the truth, she was like an angry kitten, and had the matter not been so serious, janice must have laughed at her. "they have told all over town that hopewell came home intoxicated from that last dance," continued the wife. "but it is a story--a wicked, wicked story!" janice was silent. she remembered what she and marty and mrs. scattergood had seen on the evening in question--how hopewell drugg had looked as he staggered past the street lamp on the corner on his way home with the fiddle under his arm. she looked away from 'rill and waited. janice feared that the poor little bride would discover the expression of her doubt in her eyes. chapter xii an unexpected emergency 'rill seemed to understand what was in janice's mind and heart. she kept on with strained vehemence: "i know what they all say! and my mother is as bad as any of them. they say hopewell was intoxicated. he was sick, and the bartender mixed him something to settle his stomach. i think maybe he put some liquor in it unbeknown to hopewell. or something! "the poor, dear man was ill all night, janice, and he never did remember how he got home from the dance. whatever he drank seemed to befuddle his brain just as soon as he came out into the night air. that should prove that he's not a drinking man." "i--i am sorry for you, dear," janice said softly. "and i am sorry anybody saw mr. drugg that evening on his way home." "oh, i know you saw him, janice--and marty day and my mother. mother can be as mean as mean can be! she has never liked hopewell, as you know." "yes, i know," admitted janice. "she keeps throwing such things up to me. and her tongue is never still. it is true hopewell's father was a drinking man." "indeed?" said janice, curiously. "yes," sighed 'rill drugg. "he was rather shiftless. perhaps it is the nature of artists so to be," she added reflectively. "for he was really a fine musician. had hopewell had a chance he might have been his equal. i often think so," said the storekeeper's bride proudly. "i know that the elder mr. drugg taught the violin." "yes. and he used to travel about over the country, giving lessons and playing in orchestras. that used to make mrs. drugg awfully angry. she wanted him to be a storekeeper. she made hopewell be one. how she ever came to marry such a man as hopewell's father, i do not see." "she must have loved him," said janice wistfully. "of course!" cried the bride, quite as innocently. "she couldn't have married him otherwise." "and was hopewell their only child?" "yes. he seldom saw his father, but he fairly worshiped him. his father was a handsome man--and he used to play his violin for hopewell. it was this very instrument my husband prizes so greatly now. when mr. drugg died the violin was hid away for years in the garret. "you've heard how hopewell found it, and strung it himself, and used to play on it slyly, and so taught himself to be a fiddler, before his mother had any idea he knew one note from another. she was extremely deaf at the last and could not hear him playing at odd times, up in the attic." "my!" said janice, "he must have really loved music." "it was his only comfort," said the wife softly. "when he was twenty-one what little property his father had left came to him. but his mother did not put the violin into the inventory; so hopewell said: 'give me the fiddle and you can have the rest.'" "he loved it so!" murmured janice appreciatively: "yes. i guess that was almost the only time in his life that hopewell really asserted himself. with his mother, at least. she was a very stubborn woman, and very stern; more so than my own mother. but mrs. drugg had to give in to him about the violin, for she needed hopewell to run the store for her. they had little other means. "but she made him marry 'cinda stone," added 'rill. "poor 'cinda! she was never happy. not that hopewell did not treat her well. you know, janice, he is the sweetest-tempered man that ever lived. "and that is what hurts me more than anything else," sobbed the bride, dabbling her eyes with her handkerchief. "when they say hopewell gets intoxicated, and is cruel to me and to lottie, it seems as though--as though i could scratch their eyes out!" for a moment hopewell's wife looked so spiteful, and her eyes snapped so, that janice wanted to laugh. of course, she did not do so. but to see the mild and sweet-tempered 'rill display such venom was amusing. the store door opened with a bang. the girl and the woman both started up, lottie remaining asleep. "hush! never mind!" whispered janice to 'rill. "i'll wait on the customer." when she went out into the front of the store, she saw that the figure which had entered was in a glistening slicker. it had begun to rain. "why, frank bowman! is it you?" she asked, in surprise. "oh! how-do, janice! i didn't expect to find you here." "nor i you. what are you doing away up here on the hill?" janice asked. frank bowman did not look himself. the girl could not make out what the trouble with him was, and she was puzzled. "i guess you forgot i told you i was moving," he said hesitatingly. "oh, i remember! and you've moved up into this neighborhood?" "not exactly. i am going to lodge with the threads, but i shall continue to eat marm parraday's cooking." "the threads?" murmured janice. "you know. the little, crooked-backed man. he's janitor of the school. his wife has two rooms i can have. her brother has been staying with them; but he's lost his job and has gone up into the woods. it's a quiet place--and that's what i want. i can't stand the racket at the hotel any longer," concluded the civil engineer. but janice thought he still looked strange and spoke differently from usual. his glance wandered about the store as he talked. "what did you want to buy, frank?" she asked. "i'm keeping store to-night." she knew that 'rill would not want the young man to see her tears. "oh--ah--yes," bowman stammered. "what did i want?" at that janice laughed outright. she thought highly of the young civil engineer, and she considered herself a close enough friend to ask, bluntly: "what ever is the matter with you, frank bowman? you're acting ridiculously." he came nearer to her and whispered: "where's mrs. drugg?" janice motioned behind her, and her face paled. what had happened? "i--i declare i don't know how to tell her," murmured the young man, his hand actually trembling. "tell her what?" gasped janice. "or even that i ought to tell her," added frank bowman, shaking his head. janice seized him by the lapel of his coat and tried to shake him. "what do you mean? what are you talking about?" she demanded. "what is the matter, janice?" called 'rill's low voice from the back. "never mind! i can attend to _this_ customer," janice answered gaily. "it's frank bowman." then she turned swiftly to the civil engineer again and whispered: "what is it about? hopewell?" "yes," he returned in the same low tone. "what is the matter with him?" demanded the girl greatly worried. "he's down at the inn----" "i know. he went there to play at a dance tonight. that's why i am here--to keep his wife company," explained janice. "well," said bowman. "i went down to get some of my books i'd left there. they're having a high old time in that big back room, downstairs. you know?" "where they are going to have the assembly ball?" "yes," he agreed. "but it's nothing more than a dance, is it?" whispered janice. "hopewell was hired to play----" "i know. but such playing you never heard in all your life," said bowman, with disgust. "and the racket! i wonder somebody doesn't complain to judge little or to the town council." "not with mr. cross moore holding a mortgage on the hotel," said janice, with more bitterness than she usually displayed. "you're right there," bowman agreed gloomily. "but what about hopewell?" "i believe they have given him something to drink. that joe bodley, the barkeeper, is up to any trick. if hopewell keeps on he will utterly disgrace himself, and----" janice clung to his arm tightly, interrupting his words with a little cry of pity. "and it will fairly break his wife's heart!" she said. chapter xiii into the lion's den janice day was growing up. what really ages one in this life? emotions. fear--sorrow--love--hate--sympathy--jealousy--all the primal passions wear one out and make one old. this young girl of late had suffered from too much emotion. nelson haley's trouble; her father's possible peril in mexico; the many in whom she was interested being so affected by the sale of liquor in polktown--all these things combined to make janice feel a burden of responsibility that should not have rested upon the shoulders of so young a girl. "frank," she whispered to bowman, there in the front of the dusky store, "frank, what shall we do?" "what can we do?" he asked quite blankly. "he--he should be brought home." "my goodness!" bowman stammered. "do you suppose mrs. drugg would go down there after him?" "she mustn't," janice hastened to reply, with decision; "but i will." "not you, janice!" bowman exclaimed, recoiling at the thought. "do you suppose i'd let you tell mrs. drugg?" demanded the girl, fiercely, yet under her breath. "he's her husband." "and i'm her friend." bowman looked admiringly at the flushed face of the girl. "you are fine, janice," he said. "but you're too fine to go into that place down there and get drugg out of it. if you think it is your duty to go for the man, i'll go with you. and i'll go in after him." "oh, mr. bowman! if you would!" "oh, i will. i only wish we had your car. he may be unable to walk and then the neighbors will talk." "it's got beyond worrying about what the neighbors say," said janice wearily. "now, wait. i must go and excuse myself to mrs. drugg. she must not suspect. maybe it isn't as bad as you think and we'll get hopewell home all right." the storekeeper's wife had carried lottie back to the sitting room. the child was still asleep and 'rill was undressing her. "what is the matter, janice?" she asked curiously. "has mr. bowman gone? what did he want?" "he didn't want to buy anything. he wanted to see me. i--i am going out with him a little while, miss 'rill." the latter nodded her head knowingly. "i know," she said. "you are going across the street. i am glad mr. bowman feels an interest in mr. haley's affairs." "yes!" gasped janice, feeling that she was perilously near an untruth, for she was allowing 'rill to deceive herself. "will you put the window lamps out before you go, dear?" the storekeeper's wife said. "certainly," janice answered, and proceeded to do so before putting on her coat and hat. "don't be long," 'rill observed softly. "it's after eleven now." janice came and kissed her--oh, so tenderly! they stood above the sleeping child. 'rill had eyes only for the half naked, plump limbs and body of the little girl, or she might have seen something in janice's tearful glance to make her suspicious. janice thought of a certain famous picture of the "madonna and child" as she tiptoed softly from the room, looking back as she went 'rill yearned over the little one as only a childless and loving woman does. perhaps 'rill had married hopewell drugg as much for the sake of being able to mother little lottie as for any other reason. yet, what a shock that tender, loving heart was about to receive--what a blow! janice shrank from the thought of being one of those to bring this hovering trouble home to the trusting wife. could she not escape it? there was her handbag on the end of the counter. she was tempted to seize it, run out of the store, and make her way homeward as fast as possible. she could leave frank bowman to settle the matter with his own conscience. he had brought the knowledge of this trouble to the little store on the side street. let him solve the problem as best he might. then janice gave the civil engineer a swift glance, and her heart failed her. she could not leave that unhappy looking specimen of helplessness to his own devices. frank's pompadour was ruffled, his eyes were staring, and his whole countenance was a troubled mask. in that moment janice day realized for the first time the main duty of the female in this world. that is, she is here to pull the incompetent male out of his difficulties! she thought of nelson, thoughtful and sensible as he was, actually appalled by his situation in the community. and here was frank bowman, a very efficient engineer, unable to engineer this small matter of getting hopewell drugg home from the dance, without her assistance. "oh, dear me! what would the world be without us women?" thought janice--and gave up all idea of running away and leaving frank to bungle the situation. the two went out of the store together and closed the door softly behind them. janice could not help glancing across at the lighted front windows of mrs. beaseley's cottage. "there's trouble over yonder," said young bowman gently. "i went in to see him after supper. he said you'd been there to help him buck up, janice. really, you're a wonderful girl." "i'm sorry," sighed janice. "what?" cried frank. "yes. i am sorry if i am wonderful. if i were not considered so, then not so many unpleasant duties would fall my way." frank laughed at that. "i guess you're right," he said. "those that seem to be able to bear the burdens of life certainly have them to bear. but poor nelson needs somebody to hold up his hands, as it were. he's up against it for fair, janice." "oh! i can't believe that the committee will continue this persecution, when they come to think it over," the girl cried. "it doesn't matter whether they do or not, i fear," bowman said, with conviction. "the harm is done. he's been accused." "oh, dear me! i know it," groaned janice. "and unless he is proved innocent, nelson haley is bound to have trouble here in polktown." "do you believe so, frank?" "i hate to say it. but we--his friends--might as well face the fact first as last," said the civil engineer, sheltering janice beneath the umbrella he carried. it was misting heavily and she was glad of this shelter. "oh, i hope they will find the real thief very quickly!" "so do i. but i see nothing being done toward that. the committee seems satisfied to accuse nelson--and let it go at that." "it is too, too bad!" "they are following the line of least resistance. the real thief is, of course, well away--out of polktown, and probably in some big city where the coins can be disposed of to the best advantage." "do you really believe so?" cried the girl. "i do. the thief was some tramp or traveling character who got into the schoolhouse by stealth. that is the only sensible explanation of the mystery." "do you really believe so?" repeated janice. "yes. think of it yourself. the committee and benny thread are not guilty. nelson is not guilty. only two keys to the building and those both accounted for. "some time--perhaps on friday afternoon or early evening--this tramp i speak of crept into the cellar when the basement door of the schoolhouse was open, with the intention of sleeping beside the furnace. in the morning he slips upstairs and hides from the janitor and keeps in hiding when the four committeemen appear. "he sees the trays of coins," continued frank bowman, waxing enthusiastic with his own story, "and while the committeemen are downstairs, and before nelson comes in, he takes the coins." "why _before_ nelson entered?" asked janice sharply. "because nelson tells me that he did not see the trays on the table in the committee room when he looked in there. the thief had removed them, and then put the trays back. had nelson seen them he would have stopped to examine the coins, at least. you see, they were brought over from middletown and delivered to massey, who kept them in his safe all night. nelson never laid eyes on them." "i see! i see!" murmured janice. "so this fellow stole the coins and slipped out of the building with them. they may even be melted down and sold for old gold by this time; although that would scarcely be possible. at any rate, the committee will have to satisfy the owner of the collection. that is sure." "and that is going to make them all just as mad as they can be," declared the girl. "they want to blame somebody----" "and they have blamed nelson. it remains that he must prove himself innocent--before public opinion, not before a court. there they have to prove guilt. he is guilty already in the eyes of half of polktown. no chance of waiting to be proved guilty before he is considered so." janice flushed and her answer came sharply: "and how about the other half of polktown?" "we may be evenly divided--fifty-fifty," and bowman laughed grimly. "but the ones who believe--or _say_ that they believe--nelson haley guilty, will talk much louder than those who deny." "oh, frank bowman! you take all my hope away." "i don't mean to. i want to point out to you--and myself, as well--that to sit idle and wait for the matter to settle itself, is not enough for us who believe haley is guiltless. we've got to set about disproving the accusation." "i--i can see you are right," admitted the girl faintly. "yes; i am right. but being right doesn't end the matter. the question is: how are we going about it to save nelson?" janice was rather shocked by this conclusion. frank had seemed so clear up to this point. and then he slumped right down and practically asked her: "what are _you_ going to do about it?" "oh, dear me!" cried janice day, faintly, "i don't know. i can't think. we must find some way of tracing the real thief. oh! how can i think of that, when here poor 'rill and hopewell are in trouble?" "never mind! never mind, janice!" said frank bowman. "we'll soon get hopewell home. and i hope, too, that his wife will know enough to keep him away from the hotel hereafter." "but, suppose she can't," whispered janice. "you know, his father was given to drinking." "no! is that so?" "yes. maybe it is hereditary----" "queer it didn't show itself before," said bowman sensibly. "i am more inclined to believe that joe bodley is playing tricks. why! he's kept bar in the city and i know he was telling some of the scatter-brained young fools who hang around the inn, that he's often seen 'peter' used in men's drink to knock them out. 'peter,' you know, is 'knock-out drops!'" "no, i don't know," said janice, with disgust. "or, i didn't till you told me." "forgive me, janice," the civil engineer said humbly. "i was only explaining." "oh, i'm not blaming you at all," she said. "but i am angry to think that my own mind--as well as everybody's mind in polktown--is being contaminated from this barroom. we are all learning saloon phrases. i never heard so much slang from marty and the other boys, as i have caught the last few weeks. having liquor sold in polktown is giving us a new language." "well," said bowman, as the lights of the inn came in sight, "i hadn't thought of it that way. but i guess you are right. now, now, janice, what had we better do? hear the noise?" "what kind of dance is it?" asked janice, in disgust. "i should think that it was a sailor's dance hall, or a lumber camp dance. i have heard of such things." "it's going a little too strong for lem parraday himself to-night, i guess. marm shuts herself in their room upstairs, i understand, and reads her bible and prays." "poor woman!" "she's of the salt of the earth," said bowman warmly. "but she can't help herself. lem would do it. the inn did not pay. and it is paying now. at least, he says it is." "it won't pay them in the end if this keeps up," said janice, listening to the stamping and the laughter and the harsh sounds of violins and piano. "surely hopewell isn't making _all_ that--that music?" "i'll go in and see. i shouldn't wonder if he was not playing at all now. maybe one of the boys has got his fiddle." "oh, no! he'd never let that precious violin out of his own hands, would he?" queried janice. "why! do you know, frank, i believe that is quite a valuable instrument." "i don't know. but when i started uptown one of the visitors was teasing to get hold of the violin. i don't know the man. he is a stranger--a black-haired, foxy-looking chap. although, by good rights, i suppose a 'foxy-looking' person should be red-haired, eh?" janice, however, was not splitting hairs. she said quickly: "do go in; frank, and see what hopewell is about." "how'll i get him out?" "tell him i want to see him. he'll think something has happened to 'rill or lottie. i don't care if he is scared. it may do him good." "i'll go around by the barroom door," said the young engineer, for they had come to the front entrance of the hotel. lights were blazing all over the lower floor of the sprawling building; but from the left of the front door came the sound of dancing. some of the windows were open and the shades were up. janice, standing in the darkness of the porch, could see the dancers passing back and forth before the windows. by the appearance of those she saw, she judged that the girls and women were mostly of the mill-hand class, and were from middletown and millhampton. she knew the men of the party were of the same class. the tavern yard was full of all manner of vehicles, including huge party wagons which carried two dozen passengers or more. there was a big crowd. janice felt, after all, as though she had urged frank bowman into the lion's den! the dancers were a rough set. she left the front porch after a while and stole around to the barroom door. the door was wide open, but there was a half-screen swinging in the opening which hid all but the legs and feet of the men standing at the bar. here the voices were much plainer. there were a few boys hanging about the doorway, late as the hour was. janice was smitten with the thought that marty's boys' club, the foundation society of the public library and reading room, would better be after these youngsters. "why, simeon howell!" she exclaimed suddenly. "you ought not to be here. i don't believe your mother knows where you are." the other boys, who were ragamuffins, giggled at this, and one said to young howell: "aw, sim! yer mother don't know yer out, does she? better run home, simmy, or she'll spank ye." simeon muttered something not very complimentary to janice, and moved away. the howells lived on hillside avenue and he was afraid janice would tell his mother of this escapade. suddenly a burst of voices proclaimed trouble in the barroom. she heard frank bowman's voice, high-pitched and angry: "then give him his violin! you've no right to it. i'll take him away all right; but the violin goes, too!" "no, we want the fiddle. he was to play for us," said a harsh voice. "there is another feller here can play instead. but we want both violins." "none of that!" snapped the engineer. "give me that!" there was a momentary struggle near the flapping screen. suddenly hopewell drugg, very much disheveled, half reeled through the door; but somebody pulled him back. "aw, don't go so early, hopewell. you're your own man, ain't ye? don't let this white-haired kid boss you." "let him alone, joe bodley!" commanded bowman again, and janice, shaking on the porch, knew that it must be the barkeeper who had interfered with hopewell drugg's escape. the girl was terror-stricken; but she was indignant, too. she shrank from facing the half-intoxicated crowd in the room just as she would have trembled at the thought of entering a cage of lions. nevertheless, she put her hand against the swinging screen, pushed it open, and stepped inside the tavern door. chapter xiv a declaration of war the room was a large apartment with smoke-cured and age-blackened beams in the ceiling. this was the ancient tap-room of the tavern, which had been built at that pre-revolutionary time when the stuffed catamount, with its fangs and claws bared to the york state officers, crouched on top of the staff at bennington--for polktown was one of the oldest settlements in these "hampshire grants." no noisier or more ill-favored crew, janice day thought, could ever have been gathered under the roof of the inn, than she now saw as she pushed open the screen. tobacco smoke poisoned the air, floating in clouds on a level with the men's heads, and blurring the lamplight. there was a crowd of men and boys at the door of the dance hall. at the bar was another noisy line. it was evident that joe bodley had merely run from behind the bar for a moment to stop, if he could, hopewell drugg's departure. hopewell was flushed, hatless, and trembling. whether he was intoxicated or ill, the fact remained that he was not himself. the storekeeper clung with both hands to the neck of his violin. a greasy-looking, black-haired fellow held on to the other end of the instrument, and was laughing in the face of the expostulating frank bowman, displaying a wealth of white teeth, and the whites of his eyes, as well. he was a foreigner of some kind. janice had never seen him before, and she believed he must be the "foxy-looking" man frank had previously mentioned. it was, however, joe bodley, whom the indignant young girl confronted when she came so suddenly into the room. most of the men present paid no attention to the quarreling group at the entrance. "come now, hopewell, be a sport," the young barkeeper was saying. "it's early yet, and we want to hear more of your fiddling. give us that 'darling, i am growing old' stuff, with all the variations. sentiment! sentiment! oh, hullo! evening, miss! what can i do for you?" he said this last impudently enough, facing janice. he was a fat-faced, smoothly-shaven young man--little older than frank bowman, but with pouches under his eyes and the score of dissipation marked plainly in his countenance. he had unmeasured impudence and bravado in his eyes and in his smile. "i have come to speak to mr. drugg," janice said, and she was glad she could say it unshakenly, despite her secret emotions. she would not give this low fellow the satisfaction of knowing how frightened she really was. frank bowman's back was to the door. perhaps this was well, for he would have hesitated to do just what was necessary had he known janice was in the room. the young engineer had not been bossing a construction gang of lusty, "two-fisted" fellows for six months without many rude experiences. "so, you won't let go, eh?" he gritted between his teeth to the smiling foreigner. with his left hand in his collar, frank jerked the man toward him, thrust his own leg forward, and then pitched the fellow backward over his knee. this act broke the man's hold upon drugg's violin and he crashed to the floor, striking the back of his head soundly. "all right, mr. drugg," panted frank. "get out." but it was janice, still confronting bodley, that actually freed the storekeeper from his enemies. her eyes blazed with indignation into the bartender's own. his fat, white hand dropped from hopewell's arm. "oh, if the young lady's really come to take you home to the missus, i s'pose we'll have to let you go," he said, with a nasty laugh. "but no play, no pay, you understand." janice drew the bewildered hopewell out of the door, and frank quickly followed. few in the room had noted the incident at all. the three stood a minute on the porch, the mist drifting in from the lake and wetting them. the engineer finally took the umbrella from janice and raised it to shelter her. "they--they broke two of the strings," muttered hopewell, with thought for nothing but his precious violin. "you'd better cover it up, or it will be wet; and that won't do any fiddle any good," growled frank, rather disgusted with the storekeeper. but there was something queer about hopewell's condition that both puzzled janice and made her pity him. "he is not intoxicated--not as other men are," she whispered to the engineer. "i don't know that he is," said frank. "but he's made us trouble enough. come on; let's get him home." drugg was trying to shelter the precious violin under his coat. "he has no hat and the fiddle bag is gone," said janice. "i'm not going back in there," said the civil engineer decidedly. and then he chuckled, adding: "that fellow i tipped over will be just about ready to fight by now. i reckon he thinks differently now about the 'white-headed kid,' as he called me. you see," frank went on modestly, "i was something of a boxer at the tech school, and i've had to keep my wits about me with those 'muckers' of the railroad construction gang." "oh, dear, me! i think there must be something very tigerish in all of us," sighed janice. "i was glad when i saw that black-haired man go down. what did he want hopewell's violin for?" "don't know. just meanness, perhaps. they doctored hopewell's drink somehow, and he was acting like a fool and playing ridiculously." they could talk plainly before the storekeeper, for he really did not know what was going on. his face was blank and his eyes staring, but he had buttoned the violin beneath the breast of his coat. "come on, old fellow," frank said, putting a heavy hand on drugg's shoulder. "let's be going. it's too wet to stand here." the storekeeper made no objection. indeed, as they walked along, hopewell between frank and janice, who carried the umbrella, drugg seemed to be moving in a daze. his head hung on his breast; he said no word; and his feet stumbled as though they were leaden and he had no feeling in them. "mr. bowman!" exclaimed janice, at last, and under her breath, "he is ill!" "i am beginning to believe so myself," the civil engineer returned. "i've seen enough drunken fellows before this to know that hopewell doesn't show many of the usual symptoms." janice halted suddenly. "there's a light in mr. massey's back room," she said. "eh? back of the drugstore? yes, i see it," bowman said, puzzled. "why not take mr. drugg there and see if massey can give him something? i hate to take him home to 'rill in this condition." "something to straighten him up--eh?" cried the engineer. "good idea. if he's there and will let us in," he added, referring to the druggist, for the front store was entirely dark, it being now long past the usual closing hour of all stores in polktown. janice and frank led hopewell drugg to the side door of the shop, he making no objection to the change in route. it was doubtful if he even knew where they were taking him. he seemed in a state of partial syncope. frank had to knock the second time before there was any answer. they heard voices--massey's and another. then the druggist came to the entrance, unbolted it and stuck his head out--his gray hair all ruffled up in a tuft which made him, with his big beak and red-rimmed eyes, look like a startled cockatoo. "who's this, now? jack besmith again? what did i tell you?" he snapped. then he seemed to see that he was wrong, and the next moment exclaimed: "wal! i am jiggered!" for, educated man though he was, mr. massey had lived in the hamlet of his birth all of his life and spoke the dialect of the community. "wal! i am jiggered!" he repeated. "what ye got there?" "i guess you see whom we have, mr. massey," said frank bowman pushing in and leading the storekeeper. "oh, mr. massey! it's hopewell drugg," janice said pleadingly. "can't you help him?" "janice day! i declare to sun-up!" ejaculated the druggist. "what you beauing about that half-baked critter for? and he's drunk?" "he is _not_!" cried the girl, with indignation. "at least, he is like no other drunken person i have seen. he is ill. they gave him something to drink down at the inn--at that dance where he was playing his violin--and it has made him ill. don't you _see_?" and she stamped her foot impatiently. "hoity-toity, young lady!" chuckled massey. they were all inside now and the druggist locked the door again. behind the stove, in the corner, sat mr. cross moore, and he did not say a word. "you can see yourself, mr. massey," urged frank bowman, helping drugg into a chair, "that this is no ordinary drunk." "no," massey said reflectively, and now looked with some pity at the helpless man. "alcohol never did exhilarate hopewell. it just dopes him. it does some folks. and it doesn't take much to do it." "then hopewell drugg has been in the habit of drinking?" asked bowman, in surprise. "you have seen him this way before?" "no, he hasn't. never mind what these chattering old women in town say about him now. i never saw him this way but once before. that was when he had been given some brandy. 'member that time, cross, when we all went fishin' down to pine cove? gosh! must have been all of twenty years ago." all that mr. cross moore emitted was a grunt, but he nodded. "hopewell cut himself--'bad--on a rusty bailer. he fell on it and liked ter bled to death. you know, cross, we gave him brandy and he was dead to the world for hours." "yes," said mr. moore. "what did he want to drink now for?" "i do not believe he knowingly took anything intoxicating," janice said earnestly. "they have been playing tricks down there at the tavern on him." "tricks?" repeated mr. moore curiously. "yes, sir," said janice. "men mean enough to sell liquor are mean enough to do anything. and not only those who actually sell the stuff are to blame in a case like this, but those who encourage the sale of it." mr. cross moore uncrossed his long legs and crossed them slowly the other way. he always had a humorous twinkle in his shrewd gray eye. he had it now. "meaning me?" he drawled, eyeing the indignant young girl just as he would look at an angry kitten. "yes, mr. moore," said janice, with dignity. "a word from you, and lem parraday would stop selling liquor. he would have to. and without your encouragement he would never have entered into the nefarious traffic. polktown is being injured daily by that bar at the inn, and you more than any other one person are guilty of this crime against the community!" mr. cross moore did not change his attitude. janice was panting and half crying now. the selectman said, slowly: "i might say that you are an impudent girl." "i guess i am," janice admitted tearfully. "but i mean every word i have said, and i won't take it back." "you and i have been good friends, janice day," continued mr. moore in his drawling way. "i never like to quarrel with my friends." "you can be no friend of mine, mr. moore, till the sale of liquor stops in this town, and you are converted," declared janice, wiping her eyes, but speaking quite as bravely as before. "then it is war between us?" he asked, yet not lightly. "yes, sir," sobbed janice. "i always have liked you, mr. cross moore. but now i can't bear even to look at you! i don't approve of you at all--not one little bit!" chapter xv and now it is distant trouble mr. massey had been attending to the overcome hopewell drugg. he mixed him something and forced it down his throat. then he whispered to frank bowman: "it was brandy. i can smell it on his breath. pshaw! hopewell's a harmless critter. why couldn't they let him alone?" frank had taken up the violin. the moisture had got to it a little on the back and the young man thoughtlessly held it near the fire to dry. hopewell's eyes opened and almost immediately he staggered to his feet, reaching for the instrument. "wrong! wrong!" he muttered. "never do that. crack the varnish. spoil the tone." "hullo, old fellow!" said mr. massey, patting hopewell on the shoulder. "guess you feel better--heh?" "ye--yes. why! that you, massey?" ejaculated the storekeeper, in surprise. "'twas me when i got up this mornin'," grunted the druggist. "why--why--i don't remember coming here to your store, massey," said the mystified hopewell drugg. "i--i guess i didn't feel well." "i guess you didn't," said the druggist, drily, eyeing him curiously. "was i sick? lost consciousness? this is odd--very odd," said hopewell. "i believe it must have been that lemonade." mr. cross moore snorted. "lemonade!" he ejaculated. "suthin' b'sides tartaric acid to aid the lemons in that lemonade, hopewell. you was drunk!" drugg blinked at him. "that--that's a hard sayin', cross moore," he observed gently. "what lemonade was this, hopewell?" demanded the druggist. "i had some. two glasses. the other musicians took beer. i always take lemonade." "that's what did it," frank bowman said, aside to janice. "joe bodley doped it." "you had brandy, hopewell. i could smell it on your breath," said massey. "and i know how that affects you. remember?" "oh, no, massey! you know i do not drink intoxicants," said hopewell confidently. "i know you are a dern fool, hopewell--and mebbe i'm one!" declared mr. cross moore, suddenly rising. then he bolted for the door and went out without bidding anybody good night. massey looked after his brother committeeman with surprise. "now!" he muttered, "what's got into him, i'd like for to be told?" meanwhile hopewell was saying to janice: "miss janice, how do you come here? i know amarilla expected you. isn't it late?" "mr. drugg," said the girl steadily, "we brought you here to be treated by mr. massey--mr. bowman and i. i do not suppose you remember our getting you out of the lake view inn?" "getting me out of the inn?" he gasped flushing. "yes. you did not know what you were doing. they did not want you to leave the dance, but mr. bowman made them let you come away with us." "you don't mean that, miss janice?" said the storekeeper horrified. "are--are you sure? i had not been drinking intoxicants." "brandy, i tell ye, hopewell!" exclaimed the druggist exasperated. "you keep away from the inn. they're playing tricks on you down there, them fellers are. you ain't fit to run alone, anyway--and never was," he added, too low for hopewell to hear. "and look out for that violin, mr. drugg, if you prize it at all," added frank bowman. "why do you say that?" asked hopewell puzzled. "i believe there was a fellow down there trying to steal it," the engineer said. "he had got it away from you and was looking inside of it. is the name of the maker inside the violin? is it a valuable instrument, mr. drugg?" "i--i don't know," the other said slowly. "only for its associations, i presume. it was my father's instrument and he played on it a great many years. i--i think," said hopewell diffidently, "that it has a wonderfully mellow tone." "well," said frank, "that black-haired fellow had it. and he looks like a fellow that's not to be trusted. there's more than joe bodley around that hotel who will bear watching, i guess." "i will not go down to lem parraday's again," sighed hopewell. "i--i felt that i should earn all the extra money possible. you see, my little girl may have to return to boston for treatment." "it's a mean shame!" muttered the civil engineer. "oh! i hope you are wrong about lottie," janice said quickly. "the dear little thing! she seemed very bright to-night," she added, with more cheerfulness in her tone than she really felt. "say, you don't want that violin stole, hopewell," said mr. massey reflectively. "enough's been stole in polktown to-day, i should say, to last us one spell." "never mind," put in frank bowman, scornfully, looking full at the druggist. "you won't have to pay for mr. drugg's violin if it is stolen." "hum! don't i know that?" snarled massey. "we committeemen have our hands full with that missin' collection. wish't we'd never voted to have the coins brought over here. them lectures are mighty foolish things, anyway. that is scored up against young haley, too. he wanted the lecture to come here." "and you are foolish enough to accuse nelson of stealing the coins," said bowman, in a low voice. "i should think you'd have more sense." "hey!" exclaimed the druggist. "who would _you_ accuse?" "not haley, that's sure." "nobody but the committee, the janitor, and haley knew anything about the coins," the druggist said earnestly. "they were delivered to me last night right here in the store by mr. hobart, the lecturer. he came through from middletown a-purpose. he took the boat this morning for the landing. now, nobody else knew about the coins being in town----" "who was here with you, mr. massey, when the coins were delivered to your keeping?" janice day interposed, for she had been listening. "warn't nobody here," said mr. massey promptly. "you were alone in the store?" "yes, i was," quite as positively. "what did you do with the trays?" "locked 'em in my safe." "at once?" again asked janice. "say! what you tryin' to get at, young lady?" snorted the druggist. "don't you s'pose i knew what i was about last night? i hadn't been down to lem parraday's." "some of you didn't know what you were about this morning, or the coins never would have been lost," said frank bowman significantly. "that's easy enough to say," complained the committeeman. "it's easy enough to blame us----" "and it seems to be easy for you men to blame mr. haley," janice interrupted indignantly. "well!" "i'd like to know," continued the girl, "if there was not somebody around here who saw mr. hobart bring the coins in here and leave them with you." "what if there was?" demanded mr. massey with sudden asperity. "the coins were not stolen from this shop--make up your mind on that score, miss janice." "but if some evilly disposed person had seen them in your possession, he might have planned to do exactly what was afterward done." "what's that?" demanded the druggist. "planned to get into the schoolhouse, wait till you brought the coins there, and then steal them." "aw, young lady!" grunted the druggist. "that's too far-fetched. i don't want to hurt your feelin's; but young haley was tempted, and young haley fell. that's all there is to it." janice was not silenced. she said reflectively: "we may all be mistaken. i really wish you would put your mind to it, mr. massey, and try to remember who was here in the evening, about the time that mr. hobart brought you the coin collection." she was not looking at the druggist as she spoke; but she was looking into the mirror over the prescription desk. and she could see massey's face reflected in that glass. she saw his countenance suddenly change. it flushed, and then paled, and he showed great confusion. but he did not say a word. she was puzzled, but said no more to him. it did not seem as though there was anything more to say regarding the robbery and nelson haley's connection with it. besides, hopewell drugg was gently reminding her that they must start for home. "i'm afraid amarilla will be anxious. it--it is dreadfully late," he suggested. "we'll leave mr. massey to think it over," said frank bowman. "maybe he'll come to a better conclusion regarding nelson haley." "i don't care who stole the coins. we want 'em back," growled the druggist, preparing to lock them all out. the trio separated on the corner. hopewell was greatly depressed as he walked on with janice day. "i--i hope that amarilla will not hear of this evening's performance. i declare! i had no idea that that bodley young man would play me such a trick. i shall have to refuse to play for any more of the dances," he said, in his hesitating, stammering way. "you may be sure i shall not tell her," janice said firmly. they went into the dark store together as though they had just met on the porch. "i'm awfully glad you've both come," said 'rill drugg. "i was getting real scared and lonesome. mr. bowman gone home, janice?" the girl nodded. she had not much to say. the last hour had been so full of incident that she wanted to be alone and think it over. so she hurried to bid the storekeeper and his wife good night and went into the bedroom she was to share with little lottie. janice lay long awake. that was to be expected. her mind was overwrought and her young heart burdened with a multitude of troubles. her night spent with 'rill had not turned out just as she expected, that was sure. from her window she could watch the front of mrs. beaseley's cottage and she saw that nelson's lamp burned all night. he was wakeful, too. it made another bond between them; but it was not a bond that made janice any more cheerful. she returned to the day house early on sunday morning, and her unobservant aunt did not notice the marks the young girl's sleepless night had left upon her countenance. aunt 'mira was too greatly distracted just then about a new gown she, with the help of mrs. john-ed. hutchins, had made and was to wear for the first time on this occasion. "that is, if i kin ever git the pesky thing ter set straight over my hips. do come here an' see what's the matter with it, janice," aunt 'mira begged, in a great to-do over the frock. "what do you make of it?" "it doesn't fit very smoothly--that is true," janice said gently. "i--i am afraid, aunt 'mira, that it draws so because you are not drawn in just the same as you were when the dress was fitted by mrs. john-ed." "my soul and body!" gasped the heavy lady, in desperation. "i knowed it! i felt it in my bones that she'd got me pulled in too tight." janice finally got the good woman into proper shape to fit the new frock, rather than the new frock to fitting her, and started off with aunt 'mira to church, leaving mr. day and marty to follow. janice looked hopefully for nelson. she really believed that he would change his determination at the last moment and appear at church. but he did not. nor did anybody see him outside the beaseley cottage all day. it was a very unhappy sunday for janice. the whole town was abuzz with excitement. there were two usually inoffensive persons "on the dissecting table," as walky dexter called it--nelson and hopewell drugg. much had already been said about the missing coin collection and nelson haley's connection with it; so the second topic of conversation rather overshadowed the schoolmaster's trouble. it was being repeated all about town that hopewell drugg had been taken home from the dance at the lake view inn "roaring drunk." monday morning saw nelson put to the test. some of the boys gathered on the corner of high street near the teacher's lodging, whispering together and waiting for his appearance. it was said by some that mr. haley would not appear; that he "didn't dare show his head outside the door." about quarter past eight that morning there were many more people on the main street of the lakeside village than were usually visible at such an hour. especially was there a large number of women, and it was notorious that on that particular monday more housewives were late with their weekly wash than ever before in the annals of polktown. "jefers-pelters!" muttered walky dexter, as he urged josephus into high street on his first trip downtown. "what's got ev'rybody? circus in town? if so, it must ha' slipped my mind." "yep," said massey, the druggist, at his front door, and whom the expressman had hailed. "and here comes the procession." from up the hill came a troop of boys--most of them belonging in the upper class of the school. marty was one of them, and in their midst walked the young schoolmaster! "i snum!" ejaculated walky. "i guess that feller ain't got no friends--oh, no!" and he chuckled. the druggist scowled. "boy foolishness. that don't mean nothing." "he, he, he! it don't, hey?" drawled walky, chirping to josephus to start him. "wal--mebbe not. but if i was you, and had plate glass winders like you've got, an' no insurance on 'em, i wouldn't let that crowd of young rapscallions hear my opinion of mr. haley." indeed, marty and his friends had gone much further than passing resolutions. nelson was their friend and chum as well as their teacher. he coached their baseball and football teams, and was the only instructor in gymnastics they had. the streak of loyalty in the average boy is the biggest and best thing about him. nelson often joined the crowd on the way to the only level lot in town where games could be played; and this seemed like one of those saturday occasions, only the boys carried their books instead of masks and bats. their chorus of "hullo, mr. haley!" "morning, mr. haley!" and the like, as he reached the corner, almost broke down the determination the young man had gathered to show a calm exterior to the polktown inhabitants. more than a few other well-wishers took pains to bow to the schoolmaster or to speak to him. and then, there was janice, flying by in her car on her way to middletown to school, passing him with a cheery wave of her gloved hand and he realized that she had driven this way in the car on purpose to meet him. indeed, the young man came near to being quite as overwhelmed by this reception as he might have been had he met frowning or suspicious faces. but he got to the school, and the school committee remained under cover--for the time being. janice, coming back from middletown in the afternoon, stopped at the post-office and got the mail. in it was a letter which she knew must be from her father, although the outer envelope was addressed in the same precise, clerkly hand which she associated with the mysterious juan dicampa. no introductory missive from the flowery juan was inside, however; and her father's letter began as follows: "dear daughter:-- "i am under the necessity of putting on your young shoulders more responsibility than i think you should bear. but i find that of a sudden i am confined to an output of one letter a month, and that one to you. as i write in english, and these about me read (if they are able to read at all) nothing but spanish, i have some chance of getting information and instructions to my partners in ohio, by this means, and by this means only. "first of all, i will assure you, dear child, that my health is quite, quite good. there is nothing the matter with me save that i am a 'guest of the state,' as they pompously call it, and i cannot safely work the mining property. i am not going to dig ore for the benefit of either the federal forces or the constitutionalists. "i shall stay to watch the property, however, and meanwhile the zapatist chief in power here watches me. he takes pleasure in nagging and interfering with me in every possible way; so issues this last decree limiting the number of letters to one a month. "he would do more, but he dare not. i happen to be on friendly terms with a chief who is this fellow's superior. if the chief in charge here should harm me and my friend should feel so inclined, he might ride up here, and stand my enemy up against an adobe wall. the fellow knows it--and is aware of my friend's rather uncertain temper. that temper, my dear janice, known to all who have ever heard of juan dicampa, and his abundant health, is the wall between me and a possibly sudden and very unpleasant end." there was a great deal more to the letter, but at first janice could not go on with it for surprise. the clerkly writer with the abundance of flowery phrases, juan dicampa was, then, a mexican chieftain--perhaps a half-breed yaqui murderer! the thought rather startled janice. yet she was thankful to remember how warmly the man had written of her father. much of what followed in her father's letter she had to transmit to the bank officials and others of his business associates in her old home town. but the important thing, it seemed all the time to janice, was juan dicampa. she thought about him a great deal during the next few days. mostly she thought about his health, and the chances of his being shot in some battle down there in mexico. she began to read even more than heretofore of the mexican situation in the daily papers. she began to look for mention of dicampa, and tried to learn what manner of leader he was among his people. if juan dicampa should be removed what, then, would happen to broxton day? chapter xvi one matter comes to a head that was a black week for janice as well as for the young schoolmaster. she could barely keep her mind upon her studies at the seminary. nelson haley's salvation was the attention he was forced to give to his classes in the polktown school. one or another of the four committeemen who had constituted themselves his enemies, were hovering about nelson all the time. he felt himself to be continually watched and suspected. mr. middler, who had been away on an exchange over sunday, returned to find his parish split all but in two by the accusation against nelson haley. mr. middler was the fifth member of the school committee, and both sides in the controversy clamored for him to take a hand in the case. "gentlemen," he said to his four brother committeemen in massey's back room, "i have not a doubt in my mind that you are all honestly convinced that mr. haley has stolen the coins. otherwise you would not have made a matter public that was quite sure to ruin the young man's reputation." the four committeemen writhed under this thrust, and the minister went on: "on the other hand, i have no doubt in my mind that mr. haley is just as innocent as i am of the robbery." "ye say that 'cause you air a clergyman," said cross moore bluntly. "it's your business to be allus seeing the good side of folks, whether they've got a good side, or not." the minister flushed. "i thank god i can see the good side of my fellow men," he said quickly. "i can even see your good side, mr. moore, when you are willing to uncover it. you do not show it now, when you persecute this young man----" "'persecute'? we oughter prosecute," flashed forth cross moore. "the fellow's as guilty as can be. nobody else could have done it." "i wonder?" returned the minister, and walked out before there could be further friction between them; for he liked the hard-headed, shrewd, and none-too-honest politician, as he liked few men in polktown. if the minister did not distinctly array himself with the partisans of nelson haley, he expressed his full belief in his honesty in a public manner. and at thursday night prayer meeting he incorporated in his petition a request that his parishioners be not given to judging those under suspicion, and that a spirit of charity be spread abroad in the community at just this time. the next day, walky dexter said, that charitable spirit the minister had prayed for "got awfully swatted." news spread that on the previous saturday, only a few hours after the coin collection was missed, nelson haley had sent away a post-office money order for two hundred dollars. "that's where a part of the missing money went," was the consensus of public opinion. how this news leaked out from the post-office was a mystery. but when taxed with the accusation nelson's pride made him acknowledge the fact without hesitation. "yes; i sent away two hundred dollars. it went to my aunt in sheffield. i owed it to her. she helped me through college." "where did i get the money? i saved it from my salary." categorically, these were his answers. "if that young feller only could be tongue-tied for a few weeks, he might git out o' this mess in some way," walky dexter said. "he talks more useless than th' city feller that was a-sparkin' one of our country gals. he talked mighty high-falutin'--lots dif'rent from what the boys she'd been bringed up with talked. "sez he: 'see haow b-e-a-u-tiful th' stars shine ter-night. an' if th' moon would shed--would shed----' 'never mind the woodshed,' sez the gal. 'go on with yer purty talk.' haw! haw! haw! "now, this here nelson haley ain't got no more control of his tongue than that feller had. jefers-pelters! what ye goin' ter do with a feller that tells ev'rything he knows jest because he's axed?" "he's perfectly honest," janice cried. "that shows it." "if he's puffec' at all," grunted walky, "he's a puffec' fule! that's what he is!" and nelson haley's frankness really did spell disaster. taking courage from the discovery of the young schoolmaster's use of money, the committee swore a warrant out for him before judge little. it was done very quietly; but nelson's friends, who were on the watch for just such a move, were informed almost as soon as the dreadful deed was done. news of it came to the day house on saturday afternoon, just before supper-time. on this occasion uncle jason waited for no meal to be eaten. marty ran and got out janice's car. his cousin and mr. day joined him while aunt 'mira came to the kitchen door with the inevitable slice of pork dangling from her fork. "i'd run him right out o' the county, that's what i'd do, janice, an' let cross moore and massey whistle for him!" cried the angry lady. "leastwise, don't ye let that drab old crab, poley cantor, take him to jail." "we'll see about _that_," said uncle jason grimly. "let her go, marty--an' see if ye can git us down the hill without runnin' over nobody's pup." perhaps judge little had purposely delayed giving the warrant to constable cantor to serve. the days found nelson at home and ran him down to the justice's office before the constable had started to hunt for his prey. the "drab" old constable met them in front of the justice's office and marched back into the room with janice and nelson and marty and his father. judge little looked surprised when they entered. "what's this? what's this?" he demanded, smiling at janice. "another case of speeding, janice day?" "somebody's been speeding, i reckon, jedge," drawled mr. day. "and their wheels have skidded, too. i understand that you've issued a warrant for mr. haley?" "had to do it, jason--positively _had_ to," said the justice. "better serve it right here, quietly, constable. this is a serious matter, mr. haley. i'm sorry." "wal," drawled uncle jason, "it ain't so serious; i s'pose, but what you kin take bail for him? i'm here to offer what leetle tad of property i own. an' if ye want more'n i got, i guess i kin find all ye want purty quick." "that'll be all right, jason," judge little said quickly. "i'll put him under nominal bail, only. we'll have a hearing monday evening, if that's agreeable to----" "nossir!" exclaimed uncle jason promptly. "this business ain't goin' ter be hurried. we gotter git a lawyer--and a good one. i dunno but mr. haley will refuse to plead and the case will hatter be taken to a higher court. why, jedge little! this here means life an' repertation to this young man, and his friends aren't goin' ter see no chance throwed away ter clear him and make them school committeemen tuck their tails atween their laigs, an' skedaddle!" "oh, very well, jason. we'll set the examination for next saturday, then?" "that'll be about right," said uncle jason. "give us a week to turn around in. what d'ye say, mr. haley?" "i'd like to have it over as quickly as possible," sighed the young man. "but i think you know best, mr. day." he could not honestly feel grateful. as they got into the car again to whirl up the hill to the day house for supper, nelson felt a little doubtful, after all, of mr. day's wisdom in putting off the trial. "i might just as well be tried, convicted, and sentenced right now, as to have it put off a week," he said, after they reached the day place. "they've got me, and they mean to put me through. a demand has been made upon the committee through the state board by the owner of the collection of coins. the value of the collection is placed by the owner at sixteen hundred and fifty dollars, their face value--although some of the pieces were rare, and worth more. there is not a man of the quartette that would not sell his soul for four hundred and twelve dollars and fifty cents!" "_now_ you've said a mouthful!" grunted marty, in agreement. "that's a hard sayin'," mr. day observed judiciously. "they're all--th' hull quadruped (yes, marty, that's what i meant, 'quartette,') of 'em--purty poor pertaters, i 'low. but four hundred dollars is a lot of money for any man ter lose." nelson was very serious, however. he said to janice: "you see now, can't you, why i can not teach any longer? i should not have done it this past week. i shall ask for my release. it is neither wise, nor right for a person accused of robbery to teach school in the community." "oh, nelson!" gasped the girl despairing. "hi tunket! i won't go to school--_a-tall_, if they don't let you teach, mr. haley," cried marty. "of course you will, marty," said the schoolmaster. "i shall need you boys right there to stand up for me." "well!" gasped the very red lad, "you kin bet if they put miss pearly breeze inter your place, i won't go. i've vowed i won't never go to school to no old maid again!" "wal, now you've said it," sniffed his father, "and hev relieved your mind, s'pose ye bring in some wood for the settin' room stove. we need a spark o' fire to take the chill off." meanwhile nelson was saying: "i will resign; i will not wait for them to request me to get out. if you will lend me ink and paper, janice, i'll write my resignation here and hand it to massey as i go home." "but, mr. middler----" began janice. "mr. middler is only one of five. he has no power now in the committee, for the other four are against him. cross moore and massey and crawford and joe pellet mean to put it on me if they can. i think they have already had legal advice. i think they will attempt to escape responsibility for the loss of the coin collection by prosecuting and convicting me of having stolen the money. they were not under bond, you know." "it's a mess! it's a mess!" groaned uncle jason, "whichever way ye look at it. what ye goin' ter do, mr. haley, if ye don't teach?" "i'd go plumb away from here an' never come back to polktown no more!" declared the heated marty, coming in with an armful of wood. "i feel as though i might as well do that, marty, when i hear you speak," said nelson, shaking his head. "what good does it do you to go to school? i have failed somewhere when you use such poor grammar as----" "huh! what's good grammar?" demanded the boy, so earnest that he interrupted the teacher. "that won't make ye a civil engineer--and that's what i'm goin' ter be." "a proper use of english will help even in that calling in life," said the schoolmaster. "but seriously, i have no intention of running away." "ye don't wanter be idle," mr. day said. "i'll find something to do, i fancy. but whether or no, it shall not be said of me that i was afraid to face this business. i won't run away from it." janice squeezed his hand privately in approval. she had been afraid that he might wish to flee. and who could blame him? during this week of trial, however, nelson haley had recovered his self-control, and had deliberately made up his mind to the manly course. nevertheless, he did not appear in his accustomed place in church on the morrow. it was not possible for him to walk boldly up the church aisle among the people who doubted his honesty, or would sneer at him, either openly or behind his back. and it was known all over the town by church time that sunday that he had been arrested, bailed, and had asked the school committee for a vacation of indefinite length and without pay, and that this had been granted. miss pearly breeze and her contingent of trends were not happy for long. the school committee knew that a return to old methods in school matters would never satisfy polktown again. they telegraphed the state superintendent of schools and a proper and capable substitute for mr. haley was expected to arrive on monday. it was on monday morning, too, that nelson's partisans and the enemy came to open warfare. that is, the junior portion of the community began belligerent action. janice was rather belated that morning in starting for middletown in the kremlin car. marty jumped on the running board with his school books in a strap, to ride down the hill to the corner of school street. just as they came in sight of polktown's handsome brick schoolhouse, there was nelson haley briskly approaching. he had given up his key to the committee on saturday night; but there were books and private papers in his desk that he desired to remove before his successor arrived. the front door was locked and he had to wait for benny thread to hobble up from the basement to open it. this delay brought every woman on the block to her front windows. some peeped from behind the blinds; some boldly came out on their "stoops" to eye the unfortunate schoolmaster askance. a group of boys were gathered on the corner within plain earshot of the schoolmaster. as janice turned the car carefully into school street sim howell, one of these young loungers, uttered a loud bray. "what d'ye s'pose he's after now?" he then demanded of nobody in particular, but loud enough for all the neighbors to hear. "s'pose he thinks there's any more money in there ter steal?" "stop, janice!" yelped marty. "i knew i'd got ter do it. that feller's been spoilin' for it for a week! lemme down, i say!" he did not wait for his cousin to obey his command. before she could stop the car he took a flying leap from the running-board of the automobile. his books flew one way, his cap another; and with a wild shout of rage, marty fell upon sim howell! chapter xvii the opening of the campaign janice ran the car on for half a block before she stopped. she looked back. she had never approved of fisticuffs--and marty was prone to such disgraceful activities. nevertheless, when she saw sim howell's blood-besmeared countenance, his wide-open mouth, his clumsy fists pawing the air almost blindly, something primal--instinctive--made her heart leap in her bosom. she delighted in marty's clean blows, in his quick "duck" and "side-step;" and when her cousin's freckled fist impinged upon the fatuous countenance of sim howell, janice day uttered an unholy gasp of delight. she saw nelson striding to separate the combatants. she hoped he would not be harsh with marty. then, seeing the neighbors gathering, she pressed the starter button and the kremlin glided on again. the tall young schoolmaster was between the two boys, holding each off at arm's length, when janice wheeled around the far corner and gave a last glance at the field of combat. "i am getting to be a wicked, wicked girl!" she accused herself, when she was well out of town and wheeling cheerfully over the lower road toward middletown. "i have just longed to see that simeon howell properly punished ever since i caught him that day mocking jim narnay. and _that_ arises from the influence of lem parraday's bar. oh, dear me! _i_ am affected by the general epidemic, i believe. "if the inn did not sell liquor, in all human probability, narnay would not have been drunk that day; at least, not where i could see him. and so sim and those other young rascals would not have chased and mocked him. i would not have felt so angry with sim--dear me! everything dovetails together, nelson's trouble and all. i wonder if, after all, the selling of liquor at the inn isn't at the bottom of nelson's trouble. "it sounds foolish--or at least, far-fetched. but it may be so. perhaps the person who stole those coins was inspired to do the wicked deed because he was under the influence of liquor. and, of course, the lake view inn was the nearest place where liquor was to be bought. "dear me! am i foolish? who knows?" janice concluded, with a sigh. the thought of sim howell mocking jim narnay reminded her of the latter's unfortunate family. she had been only once to the little cottage near pine cove since narnay had gone into the woods with trimmins and jack besmith. nor had she been able to see dr. poole, amid her multitudinous duties, and ask him how the nameless little baby was getting on; although she had at once left a note at the doctor's office asking him to call and see the child at her expense. the peril threatening her father and the peril threatening nelson haley filled janice day's mind and heart so full that other interests had been rather lost sight of during the past eventful week. she had not seen frank bowman since the time they had separated on the street corner by the drug store, late saturday night, when she had taken hopewell drugg home. bowman was with his railroad construction gang not far off the lower middletown road. but janice had been going to and from school by the upper road, past elder concannon's place, because it was dryer. this morning, however, frank heard her car coming, and he appeared, plunging through the jungle, shouting to her to stop. he could scarcely make a mistake in hailing the car, for janice's automobile was almost the only one that ran on this road. by summer time, however, the boarding house people and lem parraday hoped that automobiles in polktown would be, in the words of walky dexter, "as thick as fleas on a yaller hound." janice saw frank bowman coming, if she did not hear him call, and slowed down. he strode crashingly down the hillside in his high boots, corduroys, and canvas jacket, his face flushed with exercise and, of course, broadly smiling. janice liked the civil engineer immensely. he lacked nelson haley's solid character and thoughtfulness; but he always had a fund of enthusiasm on tap. "how goes the battle, janice?" was his cheery call, as he leaped down into the roadway and thrust out a gloved hand to grasp hers. "i guess, by now, simmy howell has learned a thing or two," she declared, her mind on the scrimmage she had just seen. "what?" demanded bowman, wonderingly. at that janice burst into a laugh. "oh! i am a perfect heathen. i suppose you did not mean marty's battle with his schoolmate. but that was in my mind." "what's marty fighting about now?" asked the civil engineer, with a puzzled smile. "and are you interested in such sparring encounters?" "i was in this one," confessed janice. then she told him of the occurrence--and its cause, of course. "well, i declare!" said frank bowman, happily. "for once i fully approve of marty." "do you? well, to tell the truth, so do i!" gasped janice, laughing again. "but i know it is wicked." "guess the whole day family feels friendly toward nelson," declared the engineer. "i hear mr. day went on nelson's bond saturday night." "yes, indeed. dear uncle jason! he's slow, but he's dependable." "well, i am glad nelson haley has some friends," bowman said quickly. "but i didn't stop you to say just this." "no?" "no," said the civil engineer. "when i asked you, 'how goes the battle?' i was thinking of something you said the other night when we were rounding up that disgraceful old reprobate, hopewell drugg," and he laughed. "oh, poor hopewell! isn't it a shame the way they talk about him?" "it certainly is," agreed frank bowman. "but whether hopewell drugg is finally injured in character by lem parraday's bar or not, enough other people are being injured. you said you'd do anything to see it closed." "i would," cried janice. "at least, anything i could do." "by jove! so would i!" exclaimed frank bowman, vigorously. "it was pay night for my men last saturday night. one third of them have not shown up this morning, and half of those that have are not fit for work. i've got a reputation to make here. if this drunkenness goes on i'll have a fat chance of making good with the board of directors of the railroad." "how about making good with that pretty daughter of vice president harrison's?" asked janice, slily. bowman blushed and laughed. "oh! she's kind. she'll understand. but i can't take the same excuses for failure to a board of directors." "of course not," laughed janice. "a mere board of directors hasn't half the sense of a lovely girl--nor half the judgment." "you're right!" cried bowman, seriously. "however, to get back to my men. they've got to put the brake on this drinking stuff, or i'll never get the job done. as long as the drink is right here handy in polktown, i'm afraid many of the poor fellows will go on a spree every pay day." "it is too bad," ventured janice, warmly. "i guess it is! for them and me, too!" said bowman, shaking his head. "do you know, these fellows don't want to drink? and they wouldn't drink if there was anything else for them to do when they have money in their pockets. let me tell you, janice," he added earnestly, "i believe that if these fellows had it to vote on right now, they'd vote 'no license' for polktown--yes, ma'am!" "oh! i wish we could _all_ vote on it," cried janice. "i am sure more people in polktown would like to see the bar done away with, than desire to have it continued." "i guess you're right!" agreed bowman. "but, of course, we 'female women,' as walky calls us, can't vote." "there are enough men to put it down," said bowman, quickly. "and it can come to a vote in town meeting next september, if it's worked up right." "oh, frank! can we do that?" "now you've said it!" crowed the engineer. "that's what i meant when i wondered if you had begun your campaign." "_my_ campaign?" repeated janice, much flurried. "why, yes. you intimated the other night that you wanted the bar closed, and walky has told all over town that you're 'due to stir things up,' as he expresses it, about this dram selling." "oh, dear!" groaned janice, in no mock alarm. "my fatal reputation! if my friends really loved me they would not talk about me so." "i'm afraid there is some consternation under walky's talk," said bowman, seriously. "he likes a dram himself and would be sorry to see the bar chased out of polktown. i hope you can do it, janice." "me--_me_, frank bowman! you are just as bad as any of them. putting it all on my shoulders." "the time is ripe," went on the engineer, seriously. "you won't be alone in this. lots of people in the town see the evil flowing from the bar. mrs. thread tells me her brother would never have lost his job with massey if it hadn't been for lem parraday's rum selling." "do you mean jack besmith?" cried janice, startled. "that's the chap. mrs. thread is a decent little woman, and poor benny is harmless enough. but she is worried to death about her brother." janice, remembering the condition of the ex-drug clerk when he left polktown for the woods, said heartily: "i should think she would be worried." "she tells me he tried to get back his job with massey on friday night--the evening before he went off with trimmins and narnay. but i expect he'd got mr. massey pretty well disgusted. at any rate, the druggist turned him down, and turned him down hard." "poor fellow!" sighed janice. "i don't know. oh, i suppose he's to be pitied," said frank bowman, with some disgust. "anyhow, besmith got thoroughly desperate, went down to the inn after his interview with his former employer, and spent all the money he had over lem's bar. he didn't come home at all that night----" "oh!" exclaimed janice, remembering suddenly where jack besmith had probably slept off his debauch, for she had seen him asleep in her uncle's sheepfold on that particular saturday morning. "he's a pretty poor specimen, i suppose," said the engineer, eyeing janice rather curiously. "he's one of the weak ones. but there are others!" janice was silent for a moment. indeed, she was not following closely bowman's remarks. she was thinking of jack besmith. mr. massey had evidently been much annoyed by his discharged clerk. when she and frank bowman, with hopewell drugg, had gone to the druggist's back door that eventful saturday night, massey had thought it was jack besmith summoning him to the door. massey had spoken besmith's name when he first opened the door and peered out into the mist. "now, janice," she suddenly heard frank bowman say, "what shall we do?" she awoke to the subject under discussion with a start. "goodness! do you really expect me to tell you?" "why--why, you see, janice, you've got ideas. you always do have," said the civil engineer, humbly. "i've talked to such of my men as have come back to work this morning. of course, they have been off before, on pay day; but this is the worst. they had a big time down there at the inn saturday night and sunday morning." "poor mrs. parraday!" sighed janice. "you're right. i'm sorry for marm parraday. she's the salt of the earth. but there are more than marm parraday suffering through lem's selling whiskey. but about my boys," added the engineer. "they tell me if the stuff wasn't so handy they would finish the job without going on these sprees. and i believe they would." "well! i'll think about it," janice rejoined, preparing to start her car. "i suppose if i don't go ahead in the matter, the railroad will never get its branch road built into polktown?" and she laughed. "that's about the size of it!" cried bowman, as the wheels began to roll. but it was of jack besmith, the ex-drug clerk, that janice day thought as she sped on toward the seminary and not of the opening of the campaign against the liquor traffic in polktown, which she felt had really been organized on this morning. in some way the ne'er-do-well was connected in her mind with another train of thought that, until now, had had "the right of way" in her inner consciousness. what had jack besmith to do with nelson haley's troubles? janice day was puzzled. chapter xviii hopewell sells his violin janice day had no intention of avoiding what seemed, finally, to be a duty laid upon her. if everybody else in polktown opposed to the sale of liquor, merely complained about it--and in a hopeless, helpless way--it was not in her disposition to do so. she was broxton day's own daughter and she absolutely had to _do something_! she was imbued with her father's spirit of helpfulness, and she believed thoroughly in his axiom: if a thing is wrong, go at it and make it right. of course, janice knew very well that a young girl like herself could do little in reality about this awful thing that had stalked into polktown. she could do nothing of her own strength to put down the liquor traffic. but she believed she might set forces in motion which, in the end, would bring about the much-desired reformation. she had done it before. her inspiration had touched all of polktown and had awakened and rejuvenated the old place. she had learned that all that the majority of people needed to rank them on the active side of right, was to be made to think. she determined that polktown should be made to think upon this subject of liquor selling. after school she drove around by the upper road and branched off into a woods path that she had not dared venture into the week before. the spring winds had done much to dry this woodroad and there were not many mud-holes to drive around before she came in sight of the squatters' cabin occupied by the family of mr. trimmins. this transplanted family of georgia "crackers" had been a good deal of a misfit in the vermont community until janice had found and interested herself in them. virginia, a black-haired sprite of eleven or twelve, was the leader of the family in all things, although there were several older children. but "jinny" was born to be a commander. having made a friend of the little witch of a girl, and of buddy, who had been the baby the year before, but whose place had been usurped because of the advent of another tow-head into the family, the others of "them trimminses," as they were spoken of in polktown, had become janice day's staunch friends. virginia and two of her sisters came regularly to the meetings of the girls' guild which janice had founded; but it was a long walk to the union church and janice really wondered how they ever got over the road in stormy weather. it always puzzled janice where so many children managed to sleep when bedtime came, unless they followed the sea law of "watch and watch." now all the children who were at home poured out of the cabin to greet the driver of the kremlin car. the whole family, as now arrayed before her, she had not seen since christmas. she had not forgotten to bring a great bag of "store cakes," of which these poor little trimminses were inordinately fond; so most of them soon drifted away, each with a share of the goodies, leaving janice to talk with mrs. trimmins and jinny and play with buddy and the baby. "it's a right pretty evening, miss janice," said mrs. trimmins. "i shell be glad enough when the settled weather comes to stay. i kin git some o' these young'uns out from under foot all day long, then. "trimmins has got a gang wo'kin' for him over th' mountain a piece----" "here comes dad now," said the sharp-eyed virginia. "and the elder's with him." "why--ya-as," drawled her mother, "so 'tis. it's one of concannon's timber lots trimmins is a-wo'kin' at." the elder, vigorous and bewhiskered, came tramping into the clearing like a much younger man. trimmins slouched along by his side, chewing a twig of black birch. "no, trimmins," the elder was saying decisively. "we'll stick to the letter of the contract. i furnish the team and feed them. i went a step further and furnished supplies for three men instead of two. but not one penny do you nor they handle till the job is finished." "that's all right, elder," drawled the georgian. "that's 'cordin' to contrac', i know. i don't keer for myself. but narnay and that other feller are mighty hongree for a li'le change." "powerful thirsty, ye mean!" snorted the elder. "wa-al--mebbe so! mebbe so!" agreed trimmins, with a weak grin. "they knew the agreement before they started in with you on the job, didn't they?" "oh, ya-as. they knowed about the contrac'." "'nuff said, then," grunted the elder. "oh! is that you, janice day? i'll ride back with you," added the elder, who had quite overcome his dislike for what he had formerly termed "devil wagons," since one very dramatic occasion when he himself had discovered the necessity for traveling much "faster than the law allowed." "you are very welcome, elder concannon," janice said, smiling at him. she kissed the two babies and virginia, shook hands with mrs. trimmins, and then waved a gloved hand to the rest of the family as she settled herself behind the steering wheel. the elder got into the seat beside her. "i declare for't, janice!" the elder said, as the started, the words being fairly jerked ouf of his mouth, "i dunno but i'd like to own one of these contraptions myself. you can git around lively in 'em--and that's a fac'." "they are a whole lot better than 'shanks' mare,' elder," said the young girl, laughing. "i--should--say! and handy, too, when the teams are all busy. now i had to walk clean over the mountain to-day to that piece where trimmins and them men are working. warn't a hoss fit to use." "has mr. trimmins a big gang at work?" the elder chuckled. "he calls it a gang--him, and jim narnay, and a boy. they've all got a sleight with the axe, i do allow; and the boy handles the team right well." "is he jack besmith?" questioned janice. "that's his name, i believe," said the elder. "likely boy, i guess. but if i let 'em have any money before the job is done--as trimmins wants me to--none of 'em would do much till the money was spent--boy and all." "it is too bad about young besmith," janice said, shaking her head. "he is only a boy." "yep. but a month or so in the woods without drink will do him a heap of good." that very evening, however, janice saw jack besmith in town. from marty she learned that he did not stay long. "he came in for booze--that's what he come for," said her cousin, in disgust. "he started right back for the woods with a two-gallon demi-john." "and i thought they had no money up there," janice reflected. "can it be that lem parraday or his barkeeper would trust them for drink?" marty was nursing a lump on his jaw and a cut lip. the morning's battle, had not gone all his way, although he said to janice with his usual impish grin when she commented upon his battered appearance: "you'd orter see the other feller! if nelson haley hadn't got in betwixt us i'd ha' whopped sim howell good and proper. i was some excited, i allow. if i hadn't been i needn't never run ag'inst sim's fist a-_tall_. he's a clumsy kid, if ever there was one--and i reckon he's got enough of me for a spell. anyway, he won't get fresh with mr. haley again--nor none of the rest of 'em." "dear me, marty! it seems too bad that any of the boys should feel so unkindly toward mr. haley, after all he's done for them." "they're a poor lot--fellers like sim howell. hang around the tavern hoss sheds all the time. can't git 'em to come up to the readin' room with the decent fellers," marty said belligerently. marty had forgotten that--not so long before--he had been a frequenter of the tavern "hoss sheds" himself. that was before janice had started the public library association and the boys' club. janice did not see nelson that evening, and she wondered what he was doing with his idle time. so the following afternoon she came home by the lower road, meaning to call on the schoolmaster. she stopped her car before hopewell drugg's store and ran in there first. 'rill was behind the counter; but from the back room the wail of the violin announced hopewell's presence. the lively tunes which the storekeeper had played so much through the winter just past--such as "jingle bells" and "aunt dinah's quilting party"--seemed now forgotten. nor was hopewell in a sentimental mood and his old favorite, "silver threads among the gold," could not express his feelings. "old hundred" was the strain he played, and he drew it lingeringly out of the strings until it fairly rasped the nerves. no son of israel, weeping against the wall in old jerusalem, ever expressed sorrow more deeply than did hopewell's fiddle at the present juncture. "oh, dear, janice! that's the way he is all day long," whispered the bride, the tears sparkling in her eyes. "he says lottie _must_ go to boston, and i guess he's right. the poor little thing doesn't see anywhere near as good as she did." "oh, my dear!" cried janice, under her breath. "i wish i could help pay for her trip." "no. you've done your part, janice. you paid for the treatment before----" "i only helped," interrupted janice. "it was a great, big help. hopewell can never repay you," said the wife. "and he can accept no more from you, dear." "but i haven't got it to offer!" almost wailed janice. "daddy's mine is shut down again. i--i could almost wish to sell my car--only it was a particular present from daddy----" "no, indeed! there is going to be something else sold, i expect," 'rill said gravely. "here! let us go back. i don't like even to see this fellow come in here. hopewell must wait on him." janice turned to see joe bodley, the fat, smirking bartender from the lake view inn, now entering the store. "afternoon, mrs. drugg!" he called after the storekeeper's retreating wife. "i won't bite ye." "mr. drugg will be right in," said 'rill, beckoning janice away. hopewell entered, violin in hand. he greeted janice in his quiet way and then spoke to bodley. "you wanted to see me, mr. bodley?" "now, how about that fiddle, hopewell? d'ye really want to sell it?" asked the bartender, lightly. "i--i must sell it, mr. bodley. i feel that i _must_," said hopewell, in his gentle way. "it's as good as sold, then, old feller," said the barkeeper. "i've got a customer for it." "ah! but i must have my price. otherwise it will do me no good to sell the violin which i prize so highly--and which my father played before me." "that's yankee talk," laughed bodley. "how much?" "i believe it is a valuable instrument--a very valuable instrument," said poor hopewell, evidently in fear of not making the sale, yet determined to obtain what he considered a fair price for it. "at least, i know 't is an _old_ violin." "one of the 'old masters,' eh?" chuckled bodley. "perhaps. i do not think you will care to pay my price, sir," said the storekeeper, with dignity. "i've got a customer for it. he seen it down to the dance--and he wants it. what's your price?" repeated bodley. "i thought some of sending it to new york to be valued," hopewell said slowly. "my man will buy it--sight unseen, as ye might say--on my recommend. he only saw it for a moment," said bodley. "what will he give for it?" asked hopewell. "how much do you want?" "one hundred dollars, mr. bodley," said the storekeeper, this time with more firmness. "_what_? one hundred of your grandmother's grunts! why, hopewell, there _ain't_ so much money--not in polktown, at least--'nless it's hid away in a broken teapot on the top shelf of a cupboard in elder concannon's house. they say he's got the first dollar he ever earned, and most all that he's gathered since that time." janice heard all this as she stood in the back room with 'rill. then, having excused herself to the storekeeper's wife, she ran out of the side door to go across the street to mrs. beaseley's. in fact, she could not bear to stay there and hear hopewell bargain for the sale of his precious violin. it seemed too, too, bad! it had been his comfort--his only consolation, indeed--for the many years that circumstances had kept him and 'rill scattergood apart. and after all, to be obliged to dispose of it---- janice remembered how she had brought little lottie home to the storekeeper the very day she first met him, and how he had played "silver threads among the gold" for her in the dark, musty back room of the old store. why! hopewell drugg would be utterly lost without the old fiddle. she was glad mrs. beaseley was rather an unobservant person, for janice's eyes were tear-filled when she looked into the cottage kitchen. nelson, however, was not at home. he had gone for a long tramp through the fields and had not yet returned. so, leaving word for him to come over to the day house that evening, janice went slowly back to her car. before she could start it 'rill came outside. bodley had gone, and the storekeeper's wife was frankly weeping. "poor hopewell! he's sold the fiddle," sobbed 'rill. "to that awful bartender?" demanded janice. "just as good as. the fellow's paid a deposit on it. if he comes back with the rest of the hundred dollars in a month, the fiddle is his. otherwise, hopewell declares he will send it to new york and take what he can get for it." "oh, dear me!" murmured janice, almost in tears, too. "it--it is all hopewell can do," pursued 'rill. "he has nothing else on which he can raise the necessary money. lottie must have her chance." chapter xix the gold coin the campaign against liquor selling in polktown really had been opened on that monday morning when janice and frank bowman conferred together near the scene of the young engineer's activities for the railroad. the determination of two wide-awake young people to _do something_ was the beginning of activities. not only was the time ripe, but popular feeling was already stirred in the matter. the thoughtful people of polktown were becoming dissatisfied with the experiment. those who had considered it of small moment in the beginning were learning differently. if polktown was to be "boomed" through such disgraceful means as the sale of intoxicants at the only hotel, these people with suddenly awakened consciences would rather see the town lie fallow for a while longer. the gossip regarding hopewell drugg's supposed fall from sobriety was both untrue and unkind. that the open bar at lem parraday's was a real and imminent peril to polktown, however, was a fact now undisputed by the better citizens. janice had sounded elder concannon on that very monday when she had brought him home from the trimmins place. the old gentleman, although conservative to a fault where money was concerned--his money, or anybody's--agreed that one or two men should not be allowed to benefit at the moral expense of their fellow townsmen. that the liquor selling was causing a festering sore in the community of polktown could not be gainsaid. sim howell and two other boys in their early teens had somehow obtained liquor, and had been picked up in a frightful condition on the public street by constable poley cantor. the boys were made very ill by the quantity of liquor they had drunk, and although they denied that they had bought the stuff at the hotel, it was soon learned that the supply of spirits the boys had got hold of, came from lem parraday's bar. one of the town topers had purchased the half-gallon bottle and had hid it in a barn, fearing to take it home. the boys had found it and dared each other to taste the stuff. "it's purty bad stuff 'at lem sells, i allow," observed walky dexter. "no wonder it settled them boys. it's got a 'kick' to it wuss'n josephus had that time the swarm of bees lit on him." the town was ablaze with the story of the boys' escapade on wednesday afternoon when janice came back from middletown. she stopped at hopewell drugg's store, which was a rendezvous for the male gossips of the town, and walky was holding forth upon the subject uppermost in the public mind: "them consarned lettle skeezicks--i'd ha' trounced the hull on 'em if they'd been mine." "how would you have felt, mr. dexter, if they really were yours?" asked janice, who had been talking to 'rill and nelson haley. "suppose sim howell were your boy? how would you feel to know that, at his age, he had been intoxicated?" "jefers-pelters!" grunted walky. "i reckon i wouldn't git pigeon-breasted with pride over it--nossir!" "then don't make fun," admonished the girl, severely. "it is an awful, _awful_ thing that the boys of polktown can even get hold of such stuff to make them so ill." "that is right, miss janice," hopewell said, busy with a customer. "what else, mrs. massey?" "that's all to-day, hopewell. i hate to give you so big a bill, but that's all i've got," said the druggist's wife, as she handed the store-keeper a twenty-dollar gold certificate. "he, he!" chuckled walky, "guess massey wants all the change in town in his own till, heh?" "that is all right, mrs. massey," said hopewell, in his gentle way. "i can change it. have to give you a gold piece--there." "what's going to be done about this liquor selling, anyway?" demanded nelson haley, in a much more serious mood, it would seem, than usual. "i think janice has the right of it--although i did not think so at first. 'live and let live,' is a good motto; but it is foolish to let a mad dog live in a community. lem parraday's bar is certainly doing a lot of harm to innocent people." janice clapped her hands softly, and her eyes shone. the school teacher went on with increased warmth: "polktown is really being vastly injured by the liquor selling. to think of those boys becoming intoxicated--one of them of my school, too----" the young man halted suddenly in this speech. in his earnestness he had forgotten that it was his school no longer. "it is a disgraceful state of affairs," 'rill hastened to say, kindly covering nelson's momentary confusion. but janice beamed at the young man. "oh, nelson! i am delighted to hear you speak so. we are going to hold a temperance meeting--mr. middler and i have talked it over. and i have obtained elder concannon's promise to be one of those on the platform. polktown must be waked up----" "what! _again_? haw! haw! haw!" burst out walky. "jefers-pelters, janice day! you've abeout give polktown insomnia already! i sh'd say our eyes was purty well opened----" "_yours_ are not, old fellow," said nelson, good-naturedly, but with marked earnestness, too. "you're patronizing the barroom side of the hotel altogether more than is good for you, and if you don't know it yourself, walky, i feel myself enough your friend to tell you so." "nonsense! nonsense!" returned the expressman, reddening a little, yet man enough to accept personal criticism when he was so prone to criticizing other people. "what leetle i drink ain't never goin' ter hurt me." "nor anybody else?" asked janice, softly, for she liked walky and was sorry to see him go wrong. "how about your example, walky?" "shucks! don't talk ter me abeout 'example.' that's allus the excuse of the weak-headed. if my example was goin' ter hurt the boys, ev'ry one o' them would wanter be th' town expressman! haw! haw! haw! i ain't never seen none o' them tumblin' over each other fer th' chance't ter cut me out on my job. an' 'cause i chaw terbaccer, is ev'ry white-headed kid in town goin' ter take up chawin' as a habit? "jefers-pelters! i 'low if i had a boy o' m' own mebbe i'd be a lettle keerful how i used either licker, or terbaccer. but i hain't. i got only one child, an' she's a female. i reckon i ain't gotter worry about little matildy bein' inflooenced either by her daddy's chawin', or his takin' a snifter of licker on a cold day--i snum!" "unanswerable logic, walky," said nelson, with some scorn. "i've used the same myself. and it serves all right if one is utterly selfish. i thought _that_ out after janice, here, opened my eyes." "you show me how my takin' a drink 'casionally hurts anybody or anything else, an', jefers-pelters! i'll stop it mighty quick!" exclaimed the expressman, with some heat. "i shall hold you to that, walky," said janice, quickly, interfering before there should be any further sharp discussion. "and," muttered nelson, "she's as good as got you, walky--she has that!" at the moment the door opened with a bang, and mr. massey plunged in. he was without a hat and wore the linen apron he always put on when he was compounding prescriptions in the back room of his shop. in his excitement his gray hair was ruffled up more like a cockatoo's topknot than usual, and his eyes seemed fairly to spark. "hopewell drugg!" he exclaimed, spying the storekeeper. "was my wife just in here?" "hul-_lo_!" ejaculated walky dexter. "hopewell hasn't been sellin' her paris green for buckwheat flour, has he? that would kinder be in your line, wouldn't it, massey?" but the druggist paid the town humorist no attention. he hurried to the counter and leaned across it, asking his question for a second time. "why, yes, she was here, mr. massey," said hopewell, puzzled. "she changed a bill with you, didn't she?" "jefers-pelters! was it counterfeit?" put in walky, drawing nearer. "a twenty dollar bill--yes, sir," said the storekeeper. "did you give her a gold piece--a ten dollar gold piece--in the change?" shot in massey, his voice shaking. "why--yes." "is this it?" and the druggist slapped a gold coin down on the counter between them. hopewell picked up the coin, turned it over in his hand, holding it close to his near-sighted eyes. nothing could ever hurry hopewell drugg in speech. "why--yes," he said again. "i guess so." "but look at the date, man!" shouted massey. "don't you see the date on it?" amazed, drugg repeated the date aloud, reading it carefully from the coin. "why, yes, that's the date, sir," said the storekeeper. "don't ye know that's one of the rarest issues of ten dollar coins in existence? somethin' happened to the die: they only issued a few," massey stammered. "where'd you git it, hopewell?" "why--why--is it valuable?" asked hopewell. "a rare coin, you say?" "rare!" shouted massey. "yes, i tell ye! it's rare. there ain't but a few in existence. mr. hobart told me when he brought them coins over here that night. and he pointed one of them out to me in that collection. where did you get this one, hopewell--where'd you get it, i say?" and on completing the demand he turned sharply and stared with his blinking, red eyes directly at nelson haley. chapter xx suspicions "why--why--why----" stammered hopewell drugg, and could say no more. the others had noted massey's accusing glance at the schoolmaster; but not even walky dexter commented upon it at the moment. "come, hopewell!" exclaimed the druggist; "where did you get it?" "where--where did i get the gold piece?" repeated the storekeeper, weakly. "yes. who paid it in to you? hi, man! surely you don't think for a moment i accuse you of having stolen the coin collection--or having guilty knowledge of the theft?" "oh, mr. massey! what are you saying?" cried the storekeeper's wife. "the coins?" whispered hopewell. "is that one of them?" "jefers-pelters!" ejaculated walky, "here's a purty mess." "who gave it to you?" again demanded mr. massey. "why, it would be hard to say offhand," the storekeeper had sufficient wit to reply. "oh, but hopewell!" implored the druggist. "don't ye see what i am after? stir yourself, man! perhaps we are right on the trail of the thief--this is maybe a clue," and he cast another glance at nelson as though he feared the schoolmaster might try to slip out of the store if he did not watch him. nelson came forward to the counter. at first he had grown very red; now he was quite pale and the look of scorn and indignation he cast upon the druggist might have withered that person at a time of less excitement. "i ran 'way up here the minute my wife gave me that gold piece, hopewell," massey continued. "don't you remember how you came by it?" "he means, mr. drugg," broke in nelson, "that he suspects you got it from me. now tell him, if you please: have i passed a gold piece over your counter since the robbery--that piece, or any other?" "not--not to my knowledge, mr. haley," the storekeeper said, shaking his head slowly. "oh, nelson!" gasped janice, coming nearer and touching his arm lightly. the young man's hands were clenched. he had a temper and it nearly mastered him now. but he had learned to control himself. otherwise he could never have been as successful as he was in handling his pupils. his eyes darted lightning at the druggist; but the latter was too excited to realize nelson haley's mood. "this fellow has been to the postmaster to try to discover if i bought my money-order the other day with gold coin; but the postmaster obeyed the rules of the department and refused to answer. he and the other committeemen are doing every underhanded thing possible to injure me. cross moore even tried to get into my rooms to search my trunk--but mrs. beaseley threatened him with a broom. "it doesn't surprise me that mr. massey should attempt in this way to find what he calls 'a clue.' the only clue he and his friends are looking for is something with which to connect me with the robbery." janice's light touch on his arm again, stayed his wrathful words; but the druggist's freckled face glowed--red under the young man's gaze. "wal!" he grunted, shortly, "we're bound to look after our own skins--not after yours, mr. haley." "i believe you!" exclaimed the schoolmaster in scorn, and turned away. "but, say, hopewell, ye ain't answered me yet," went on massey, again addressing the storekeeper. "well--i couldn't say offhand----" "great goodness, hopewell!" cried massey, pounding his fist upon the counter for emphasis, "you're the most exasperating critter. if this--this---- if mr. haley didn't give you the coin, _who did_?" "why--i--i----" drugg was slow enough at best. now he was indeed very irritating. he was not the man to allow anything he said to injure another, if he could help it. "le's see," he continued; "i've had that gold piece sev'ral days. i am sure, of course, that mr. haley did not give it to me. no. come to think of it----" "well?" gasped mr. massey. "i _do_ remember the transaction, now. it--it was give me as an option on my violin," said hopewell drugg, with growing confidence. "yes. i remember now all about it." "what's that? yer fiddle, hopewell?" put in dexter. "ye ain't goin' ter sell yer fiddle?" "i must," hopewell said simply. "i accepted that ten dollar gold piece and two five dollar bills, as a payment upon it." "who from?" demanded massey, sticking to his text, and that only. "young joe bodley, of the lake view inn." "joe bodley! why, he was abed when them coins was stolen--i know that," blurted out the druggist, very much disappointed. "lem parraday 'tends bar himself forenoons, for joe's allus up till past midnight. you know that, walky." "ya-as--f'r sure," agreed the expressman. "but one o' these here magazine deteckatiffs might be able ter hook up joe with them missin' coins, jes' the same. mebbe he's a sernamb'list," suggested, walky, with a sly grin. "a _what_?" demanded massey, with a startled look. "he's an odd feller, an' a son o' jethro. i don't know what other lodges he b'longs to." "jefers-pelters!" ejaculated walky, "who's talkin' about lodges? i mean mebbe joe walks in his sleep. he might ha' stole them coins when he was sernamb'latin' about----" the druggist snorted. "that's some o' your funny business, i s'pose, walky dexter. if you stood ter lose four hundred dollars you wouldn't chuckle none about it, i'm bound." "mebbe that's so," admitted walky. "but i dunno's i'd go around suspectin' everybody there was of stealin' that money. caesar's wife--er was it his darter?--wouldn't 'scape suspicion in your mind, mr. massey." "by hickory!" exclaimed the exasperated druggist, "i'd suspect my own grandmother!" "sure ye would--ef ye thought by so doin' ye'd escape payin' out four hundred dollars! hay! haw! haw!" laughed the expressman. "ye ac' right fullish, massey. all sorts of money is passed over that bar. i seen a feller count out forty pennies there t'other day for a flask of whiskey: an' i bet he'd either robbed his baby's bank, or the missionary-fund box. haw! haw! haw!" "you can laugh," began the druggist, looking sour enough, when walky broke in again: "sure i can. it's lucky i can, too. if i couldn't laff at most of the folks that live in this town, i'd be tempted ter commit sooicide--that's right! and you air one of the most amusin' of the lot, massey. them other committeemen run ye a clost second." "oh! i can't stop here and fool with you all day, walky dexter," snapped the druggist, pretty well worked up by now. "i tell ye this gold piece is a clue----" "mebbe," said walky. "mebbe 'tis a clue. but i reckon it's what them magazine deteckatifs call a blind clue. haw! haw! haw! an' afore ye git anywhere with it, it'll proberbly go on crutches an' be deef an' dumb inter the bargain!" massey did not look as though he enjoyed these gibes much. "i'll go down an' see joe," he grunted. "mebbe he'll know something about it." "i hope you do not expect to find that i spent that ten dollar gold piece at the inn bar," said nelson, bitterly. "well! i'll find out how it got into joe's hands," growled massey. "if joe tells you," chuckled walky. "an' do stop for yer hat, massey. you'll ketch yer death o' dampness." the druggist had opened a fruitful subject for speculation. those he left behind in the store were eagerly interested. indeed, janice and nelson could not fail to be excited by the occurrence, and the latter rode home with janice in the car to talk the matter over with uncle jason. "of course," the schoolmaster said, when the family was assembled in the sitting room of the old day house, "_that_ gold piece may not be one of those stolen at all. there are plenty of ten dollar gold pieces in circulation." "not in polktown!" exclaimed uncle jason. "and if we are to believe mr. massey," added janice, "there are not many ten dollar gold pieces of that particular date in existence." "we don't really know. perhaps massey is mistaken. we know he was excited," said nelson. "hold hard, now," advised uncle jason, "it's a breach in their walls, nevertheless." "how is that, mr. day?" asked the schoolmaster. "why, don't you see?" said uncle jason, puffing on his pipe in some excitement. "they have opened th' way for doubt ter stalk in," and he chuckled. "them committeemen have been toller'ble sure--er they've _said_ they was--it was you stole the money, mr. haley. if they can't connect this coin with you at all, they'll sartain sure be up a stump. and they air a-breakin' down their own case against ye. i guess i'm lawyer enough ter see that." "oh, goodness, uncle jason! so they will!" cried janice. "but it does not seem reasonable that the person stealing the coins would spend one of them in polktown," nelson said slowly. "i dunno," reflected mr. day. "i never did think that a thief had any medals fer good sense--nossir! he most allus leaves some openin' so's ter git caught." "and if he spent the money at the tavern--and for liquor--of course he _couldn't_ have good sense." "i take off my hat to you on that point, janice," laughed nelson. "i believe you are right." "ya-as, ain't she?" aunt almira said proudly. "an' our janice has done suthin' this time that'll make polktown put her on a ped-ped-es-tri-an----" "'pedestal,' maw!" giggled marty. "wal, never mind," said the somewhat flurried mrs. day. "mr. middler said it. mr. haley, ye'd oughter hear all 't mr. middler said about her this arternoon at the meetin' of the ladies' aid." "oh, auntie!" murmured janice, turning very red. "go on, maw, and tell us," said marty. "what did he say?" and he grinned delightedly at his cousin's rosy face. "sing her praises, mrs. day--do," urged nelson. "we know she deserves to have them sung." "wal! i should say she did," agreed aunt 'mira, proudly. "it's her, the parson says, that's re'lly at the back of this temp'rance movement that's goin' ter be inaugurated right here in polktown. nex' sunday he's goin' to give a sermon on temperance. he said 'at he was ashamed to feel that he--like the rest of us--was content ter drift along and _do nothin'_ 'cept ter talk against rum selling, until janice began ter _do somethin'_." "now, auntie!" complained the girl again. "wal! you started it--ye know ye did, janice. they was talkin' about holdin' meetings, an' pledge-signin', and stirrin' up the men folks ter vote nex' fall ter make polktown so everlastin'ly dry that all the old topers, like jim narnay, an' bruton willis, an'--an' the rest of 'em, will jest natcherly wither up an' blow away! i tell ye, the ladies' aid is all worked up." "i wonder, now," said uncle jason, reflectively. "ye wonder what, jase day?" demanded his spouse, with some warmth. "i wonder if it can be _did_?" returned uncle jason. "lemme tell ye, rum sellin' an' rum drinkin' is purty well rooted in polktown. if janice is a-goin' ter stop th' sale of licker here, she's tackled purty consider'ble of a job, lemme tell ye." chapter xxi what was in the paper as the days passed it certainly looked as though mr. day was correct in his surmise about the difficulties of "janice's job," as he called it. the girl was earnestly talking to everybody whom she knew, especially to the influential men of polktown, regarding the disgraceful things that had happened in the lakeside hamlet since the bar had been opened at the inn. and it was among these influential men that she found the most opposition to making polktown "dry" instead of "wet." she had thrown down her gauntlet at mr. cross moore's feet, so she troubled no more about him. janice realized that nobody was more politically powerful in polktown than mr. moore. but she believed she could not possibly obtain him on the side of prohibition, so she did not waste her strength or time in trying. not that mr. cross moore was a drinking man himself. he was never known to touch either liquor or tobacco. he was just a hard-fisted, hard-hearted, shrewd and successful country politician; and there appeared to be no soft side to his character. unless that side was exposed to his invalid wife. and nobody outside ever caught mr. moore displaying tenderness in particular to her, although he was known to spend much time with her. he had fought his way up in politics and in wealth, from very poor and small beginnings. from his birth in an ancient log cabin, with parents who were as poor and miserable as the trimminses or the narnays to being president of the town council and chairman of the school committee, was a long stride for mr. cross moore--and nobody appreciated the fact more clearly than himself. money had been the best friend he had ever had. without elder concannon's streak of acquisitiveness in his character that made the good old man almost miserly, mr. cross moore possessed the money-getting ability, and a faith in the creed that "wealth is power" that nothing had yet shaken in his long experience. for a number of years polktown had been free of any public dram-selling, although the voters had not put themselves on record as desiring prohibition. occasionally a more or less secret place for the selling of liquor had risen and was quickly put down. there had, in the opinion of the majority of the citizens, been no call for a drinking place, and there would probably have been no such local demand had lem parraday--backed by mr. moore, who held the mortgage on the inn--not desired to increase the profits of that hostelry. the license was taken out that visitors to polktown might be satisfied. there had been no local demand for the sale of liquor, as has been said. those who made a practise of using it could obtain all they wished at middletown, or other places near by. but once having allowed the traffic a foothold in the hamlet, it would be hard to dislodge it. john barleycorn is fighting for his life. he has few real friends, indeed, among his consumers. no man knows better the danger of alcohol than the man who is addicted to its use--until he gets to that besotted stage where his brain is so befuddled that his opinion would scarcely be taken in a court of law on any subject. janice day was determined not to listen to these temporizers in polktown who professed themselves satisfied if the license was taken away from the lake view inn. something more drastic was needed than that. "the business must be voted out of town. we all must take a stand upon the question--on one side or the other," the girl had said earnestly, in discussing this point with elder concannon. "if you only shut up this bar, another license, located at some other point, will be asked for. each time the fight will have to be begun again. vote the town _dry_--that is the only way." "well, i reckon that's true enough, my girl," said the cautious elder. "but i doubt if we can do it. they're too strong for us." "we can try," janice urged. "you don't _know_ that the wets will win, elder." "and if we try the question in town meeting and get beaten, we'll be worse off than we are now." "why shall we?" janice demanded. "and, besides, i do not believe the wets can carry the day." "i'm afraid the idea of making the town dry isn't popular enough," pursued the elder. "why not?" "we are vermonters," said elder concannon, as though that were conclusive. "we're sons of the green mountain boys, and liberty is greater to us than to any other people in the world." "including the liberty to get drunk--and the children to follow the example of the grown men?" asked janice, tartly. "is _that_ liberty so precious?" "that's a harsh saying, janice," said the old man, wagging his head. "it's the truth, just the same," the girl declared, with doggedness. "you can't make the voters do what you want--not always," said elder concannon. "i don't want to see liquor sold here; but i think we'll be more successful if we oppose each license as it comes up." "what chance had you to oppose lem parraday's license?" demanded the girl, sharply. "well! i allow that was sprung on us sudden. but cross moore was interested in it, too." "somebody will always be particularly interested in the granting of the license. i believe with uncle jason that it's foolish to give old nick a fair show. he does not deserve the honors of war." more than elder concannon did not believe that polktown could be carried for prohibition in town meeting. but election day was months ahead, and if "keeping everlastingly at it" would bring success, janice was determined that her idea should be adopted. mr. middler's first sermon on temperance was in no uncertain tone. indeed, that good man's discourses nowadays were very different from those he had been wont to give the congregation of the union church when janice had first come to polktown. in the old-fashioned phrase, mr. middler had "found liberty." there was nothing sensational about his sermons. he was a drab man, who still hesitated before uttering any very pronounced view upon any subject; but he thought deeply, and even that super-critic, elder concannon, had begun to praise the pastor of the union church. to start the movement for prohibition in the largest church in the community was all very well; but janice and the other earnest workers realized that the movement must be broader than that. a general meeting was arranged in the town house, the biggest assembly room in town, and speakers were secured who were really worth hearing. all this went on quite satisfactorily. indeed, the first temperance rally was a pronounced success, and white ribbons became common in polktown, worn by both young and old. but janice's and nelson haley's private affairs remained in a most unsatisfactory state indeed. first of all, there was a long month to wait before janice could expect to see another letter from daddy. it puzzled her that he was forbidden to write but once in thirty days, by an under lieutenant of the zapatist chief, juan dicampa, who was mr. day's friend--or supposed to be, and yet the letters came to her readdressed in juan dicampa's hand. she watched the daily papers, too, for any word printed regarding the chieftain, and perhaps never was a brigand's well-being so heartily prayed for, as was juan dicampa's. janice never forgot that her father said dicampa stood between him and almost certain death. considering nelson haley's affairs, that young man was quite impatient because they had come to no head. nor did it seem that they were likely to soon. nelson had secretly objected when uncle jason had asked judge little to put off for a full week the examination of nelson in his court. the unfortunate schoolmaster felt that he wanted the thing over and the worst known immediately. but it seemed that he was neither to be acquitted at once of the crime charged against him, nor was he to be found guilty and punished. uncle jason was right about the turning up of the ten dollar gold piece being a blow to the accusation the school committee had lodged against nelson. they could not connect the young schoolmaster with the gold coin. by uncle jason's advice, too, nelson had put off engaging a lawyer in middletown to come over to defend the young man in judge little's court. "and well he did wait, too," declared mr. day, very much pleased with his own shrewdness. "_that_ would have meant a twenty dollar note. now it don't cost mr. haley a cent." "what do you mean, jase day?" demanded aunt almira, for her husband announced the above at the supper table on friday evening of that eventful week. "they ain't goin' ter send mr. haley to jail without a trial?" "hear the woman, will ye?" apostrophized uncle jason, with disgust. "ain't thet jes' like ye, almiry--goin' off at ha'f cock thet-a-way? who said anythin' about mr. haley goin' ter jail?" "wal----" "he ain't goin' yet awhile, i reckon," and mr. day chuckled. "i told ye them fule committeemen would overreach themselves. they've withdrawn the charge." "_what_?" chorused the family, in joy and amazement. "yessir! that's what they've done. jedge little sent word to me an' give me back my bond. 'course, we could ha' demanded a hearin' an' tried ter git a clear discharge. and then ag'in--wal! i advised mr. haley ter let well enough alone." "then they know who is the thief at last?" asked janice, quaveringly. "no." "but they know mr. haley never stole them coins!" cried aunt almira. "wal--ef they do, they don't admit of it," drawled uncle jason. "what in tarnation is it, then, dad?" demanded marty. "why, they've made sech a to-do over findin' that gold piece in hope drugg's possession, that they don't dare go on an' prosercute the schoolmaster--nossir!" "bully!" exclaimed the thoughtless marty. "that's all right, then." "but--but," objected janice, with trembling lip, "that doesn't clear nelson at all!" "it answers the puppose," proclaimed uncle jason. "he ain't under arrest no more, and he don't hafter pay no lawyer's fee." "ye-es," admitted his niece, slowly. "but what is poor nelson to do? he's still under a cloud, and he can't teach school." "and believe me!" growled marty, "that greeny they got to teach in his place don't scu'cely know beans when the bag's untied." it was true that the four committeemen had considered it wise to withdraw their charge against nelson haley. without any evidence but that of a purely presumptive character, their lawyer had advised this retreat. really, it was a sharp trick. it left nelson worse off, as far as disproving their charge went, than he would have been had they taken the case into court. the charge still lay against the young man in the public mind. he had no opportunity of being legally cleared of suspicion. the ancient legal supposition that a man is innocent until he is found guilty, is never honored in a new england village. he is guilty unless proved innocent. and how could nelson prove his innocence? only by discovering the real thief and proving _him_ guilty. the shrewd attorney hired by the four committeemen knew very well that he was not prejudicing his clients' case when he advised them to quash the warrant. but as for the discovery of the rare coin in circulation--one known to belong to the collection stolen from the schoolhouse--that injured the committeemen's cause rather than helped it, it must be confessed. joe bodley frankly admitted having paid over the gold piece to hopewell drugg, as a deposit on the fiddle. but he professed not to know how the coin had come into the till at the tavern. joe had full charge of the cash-drawer when mr. parraday was not present, and he had helped himself to such money as he thought he would need when he went up town to negotiate for the purchase of the fiddle. he denied emphatically that the man who had engaged him to purchase the fiddle had given him the ten dollar gold piece. who the purchaser of the fiddle was, however, the barkeeper declined to say. "that's my business," joe had said, when questioned on this point. "ya-as. i expect to take the fiddle. hopewell's agreed to sell it to me, fair and square. if i can make a lettle spec on the side, who's business is it but my own?" when janice heard the report of this--through walky dexter, of course--she was reminded of the black-haired, foreign looking man, who had been so much interested in hopewell's violin the night she and frank bowman had taken the storekeeper home from the dance. "i wonder if he can be the customer that joe bodley speaks of? oh, dear me!" sighed janice. "i'm so sorry hopewell has to sell his violin. and i'm sorry he is going to sell it this way. if that 'foxy looking foreigner,' as mr. bowman called him, is the purchaser of the instrument, perhaps it is worth much more than a hundred dollars. "lottie _must_ go again and have her eyes examined. hopewell will take her himself next month--the poor, dear little thing! oh! if daddy's mine wasn't down there among those hateful mexicans---- "and i wonder," added the young girl, suddenly, "what one of those real old violins is worth." she chanced to be reflecting on this subject on a saturday afternoon near the end of the month hopewell had allowed to joe bodley to find the rest of the purchase price for the violin. she had been up to the church vestry to attend a meeting of her girls' guild. as she passed the public library this thought came to her: "i'll go in and look in the encyclopaedia. _that_ ought to tell about old violins." she looked up cremona and read about its wonderful violins made in the sixteenth, seventeenth, and eighteenth centuries by the amati family and by antonio stradivari and josef guarnerius. it did not seem possible that hopewell's instrument could be one of these beautifully wrought violins of the masters; yet---- "who knows?" sighed janice. "you read about such instruments coming to light in such queer places. and hopewell's fiddle _looks_ awfully old. from all accounts his father must have been a musician of some importance, despite the fact that he was thought little of in polktown by either his wife or other people. mr. drugg might have owned one of these famous violins--not one of the most ancient, perhaps--and told nobody here about it. why! the ordinary polktownite would think just as much of a two-dollar-and-a-half fiddle as of a real stradivarius or an amati." while she was at the task, janice took some notes of what she read. while she was about this, walky dexter, who brought the mail over from middletown, daily, came in with the usual bundle of papers for the reading desk, and the girl in charge that afternoon hastened to put the papers in the files. major price had presented the library with a year's subscription to a new york daily. janice or marty always found time to scan each page of that paper for mexican news--especially for news of the brigand chief, juan dicampa. she went to the reading desk after closing and returning the encyclopaedia to its proper shelf, and spread the new york paper before her. this day she had not to search for mention of her father's friend, the zapatist chief. right in front of her eyes, at the top of the very first column, were these headlines: juan dicampa captured the zapatist chieftain captured by federals with of his force and immediately shot. massacre of his followers. chapter xxii deep waters the dispatch in the new york paper was dated from a texan city on the day before. it was brief, but seemed of enough importance to have the place of honor on the front page of the great daily. there were all the details of a night advance, a bloody attack and a fearful repulse in which general juan dicampa's force had been nearly wiped out. the half thousand captured with the famous guerrilla chief were reported to have been hacked to pieces when they cried for quarter, and juan dicampa himself was given the usual short shrift connected in most people's minds with mexican justice. he had been shot three hours after his capture. it was an awful thing--and awful to read about. the whole affair had happened a long way from that part of chihuahua in which daddy's mine was situated; but janice immediately realized that the "long arm" of dicampa could no longer keep mr. broxton day from disaster, or punish those who offended the american mining man. the very worst that could possibly happen to her father, janice thought, had perhaps already happened. that was a very sorrowful evening indeed at the old day house on hillside avenue. although mr. jason day and janice's father were half brothers only, the elder man had in his heart a deep and tender love for broxton, or "brocky," as he called him. he remembered brocky as a lad--always. he felt the superiority of his years--and presumably his wisdom--over the younger man. despite the fact that mr. broxton day had early gone away from polktown, and had been deemed very successful in point of wealth in the middle west, uncle jason considered him still a boy, and his ventures in business and in mining as a species of "wild oat sowing," of which he could scarcely approve. "no," he sighed. "if brocky had been more settled he'd ha' been better off--i snum he would! a piece o' land right here back o' polktown--or a venture in a store, if so be he must trade--would ha' been safer for him than a slather o' mines down there among them mexicaners." "don't talk so--don't talk so, jason!" sniffed aunt almira. "wal--it's a fac'," her husband said vigorously. "there may be some danger attached ter store keepin' in polktown; it's likely ter make a man a good deal of a hawg," added uncle jason. "but i guess the life insurance rates ain't so high as they be on a feller that's determined ter spend his time t'other side o' that rio grande river they tell about." "i wonder," sighed aunt almira, quite unconscious that she spoke aloud, "if i kin turn that old black alpaca gown i got when sister susie died, jason, an' fashion it after one o' the new models?" "heh?" grunted the startled mr. day, glaring at her. "of course, we'll hafter go inter black--it's only decent. but i did fancy a plum-colored dress this spring, with r'yal purple trimmins. i seen a pattern in the fashion sheet of the fireside love letter that was re'l sweet." "what's eatin' on you, maw?" demanded her son gruffly. "whatcher wanter talk that way for right in front of janice? i reckon we won't none of us put on crêpe for uncle brocky yet awhile," he added, stoutly. on monday arrived another letter from mr. broxton day. of course, it was dated before the dreadful night attack which had caused the death of general juan dicampa and the destruction of his forces; and it had passed through that chieftain's hands and had been remailed. janice put away the envelope, directed in the sloping, clerkly hand, and sighed. daddy was in perfect health when he had written this last epistle and the situation had not changed. "but no knowing what has happened to poor daddy since he wrote," thought janice. "we can know nothing about it. and another whole month to wait to learn if he is alive." the girl was quite well aware that she could expect no inquiry to be made at washington regarding mr. broxton day's fate. the administration had long since warned all american citizens to leave mexico and to refrain from interference in mexican affairs. mr. day had chosen to stay by his own, and his friends', property--and he had done this at his peril. "oh, i wish," thought the girl, "that somebody could go down there and capture daddy, and just make him come back over the border! as uncle jason says, what's money when his precious life is in danger?" in almost the same breath, however, she wished that daddy could send her more money. for lottie drugg had gone to boston. her father had given over the violin to joe bodley, and that young speculator paid the storekeeper the remainder of the hundred dollars agreed upon. with this hundred dollars hopewell started for boston with lottie, leaving his wife to take care of the store for the few days he expected to be absent. janice went over to stay with mrs. drugg at night during hopewell's absence. perhaps it was just as well that janice was not at home during these few days, as it gave her somebody's troubles besides her own to think about. and the day household really, if not visibly, was in mourning for broxton day. uncle jason's face was as "long as the moral law," and aunt 'mira, lachrymose at best, was now continuously and deeply gloomy. marty was the only person in the day household able to cheer janice in the least. 'rill and hopewell were in deep waters, too. had lottie not been such an expense, the little store on the side street would have made a very comfortable living for the three of them. they lived right up to their income, however; and so hopewell was actually obliged to sell his violin to get lottie to boston. mrs. scattergood was frequently in the store now that her son-in-law was away. she was, of course, ready with her criticisms as to the course of her daughter and her husband. "good land o' goshen!" chirped the little old woman to janice, "didn't i allus say it was the fullishest thing ever heard of for them two to marry? amarilly had allus airned good money teachin' and had spent it as she pleased. and hope drugg never did airn much more'n the salt in his johnny-cake in this store." meanwhile she was helping herself to sugar and tea and flour and butter and other little "notions" for her own comfort. hopewell always said that "mother scattergood should have the run of the store, and take what she pleased," now that he had married 'rill; and, although the woman was not above maligning her easy-going son-in-law, she did not refuse to avail herself of his generosity. "an' there it is!" went on mrs. scattergood. "'rill was fullish enough to put the money she'd saved inter a mortgage that pays her only five per cent. an' ter git th' int'rest is like pullin' eye-teeth, and i tell her she never will see the principal ag'in." mrs. scattergood neglected to state that she had urged her daughter to put her money in this mortgage. it was on her son's farm, across the lake at "skunk's hollow," as the place was classically named; and the money would never have been tied up in this way had her mother not begged and pleaded and fairly "hounded" 'rill into letting the shiftless brother have her savings on very uncertain security. "them two marryin'," went on mrs. scattergood, referring to 'rill and hopewell, "was for all the worl' like famine weddin' with poverty. and a very purty weddin' that allus is," she added with a sniff. "neither of 'em ain't got nothin', nor never will have--'ceptin' that hopewell's got an encumbrance in the shape of that ha'f silly child." janice was tempted to tell the venomous old woman that she thought hopewell's only encumbrance was his mother-in-law. "and him fiddlin' and drinkin' and otherwise wastin' his substance," croaked mrs. scattergood. at this janice did utter an objection: "now, that is not so, mrs. scattergood. you know very well that that story about hopewell being a drinking man is not true." "my! is that so? didn't i see him myself? and you seen him, too, janice day, comin' home that night, a wee-wawin' like a boat in a heavy sea. i guess i see what i see. and as for his fiddlin'----" "you need not be troubled on that score, at least," sighed janice. "poor hopewell! he's sold his violin." walky dexter came into the store that same evening, chuckling over the sale of the instrument. "i wouldn't go for ter say hopewell is a sharper," he grinned; "but mebbe he ain't so powerful innercent as he sometimes 'pears. if so, i'm sartainly glad of it." "what do you mean, mr. dexter?" asked 'rill, rather sharply. "guess joe bodley feels like he'd like ter know whether hopewell done him or not. joe's condition is suthin' like the snappin' turtle's when he cotched a-holt of peleg swift's red nose as he was stoopin' ter git a drink at the spring. he didn't durst ter let go while peke was runnin' an' yellin' 'murder!' but he was mighty sorry ter git so fur from home. haw! haw! haw!" "what is the matter with joe bodley now, walky?" asked nelson, who was present. "didn't he make a good thing out of the violin transaction?" "why--haw! haw!--he dunno yit. but i b'lieve he's beginnin' ter have his doubts--like th' feller 't got holt of the black snake a-thinkin' it was a heifer's tail," chuckled walky, whose face was very red and whose spicy breath--joe bodley always kept a saucer of cloves on the end of the bar--was patent to all in the store. "joe's a good sport; he ain't squealin' none," pursued dexter; "but there is the fiddle a-hangin' behint th' bar an' joe's beginnin' ter look mighty sour when ye mention it to him." "why, mr. dexter!" 'rill said, in surprise, "hasn't he turned it over to the man he said he bought it for?" "wal--not so's ye'd notice it," walky replied, grinning fatuously. "i dunno who the feller is, or how much money he gin joe in the fust place to help pay for the fiddle--some, of course. but if joe paid hopewell a hundred dollars for the thing you kin jest bet he 'spected to git ha'f as much ag'in for it. "but i reckon the feller's reneged or suthin'. joe ain't happy about it--he! he! mebbe on clost examination the fiddle don't 'pear ter be one o' them old masters they tell about! haw! haw! haw!" janice started to say something. "why don't they look inside----" "inside o' what?" demanded walky, when the girl halted. "i am positive that hopewell would never have sold it for a hundred dollars if he hadn't felt he must," broke in the storekeeper's wife, and janice did not complete her impulsive observation. "ye can't most allus sometimes tell!" drawled walky. "mebbe hopewell had suthin' up his sleeve 'sides his wrist. haw! haw! haw! "shucks! talk about a fiddle bein' wuth a hunderd dollars! jefers-pelters! i seen one a-hangin' in a shop winder at bennington once 't looked every whit as good as hopewell's, and as old, an' 'twas marked plain on a card, 'two dollars an' a ha'f.'" "i guess there are fiddles and _fiddles_," said 'rill, a little tartly for her. "no," laughed nelson. "there are fiddles and _violins_. like the word 'vase.' if it's a cheap one, plain 'vase' is well enough to indicate it; but if it costs over twenty-five dollars they usually call it a 'vahze.' i have always believed hopewell's instrument deserved the dignity of 'violin.'" "wal," declared walky. "i guess ye kin have all the dignity, _and_ the vi'lin, too, if you offer joe what he paid for it. i don't b'lieve he'll hang off much for a profit--er--haw! haw! haw!" "i wish i were wealthy enough to buy the violin back from that fellow," whispered janice to the schoolmaster. "ah! i expect you do, janice," he said softly, eyeing her with admiration. "and i wish i could give you the money to do so. it would give you more pleasure, i fancy, to hand hopewell back his violin when he returns from boston than almost anything we could name. wouldn't it?" "oh, dear me! yes, nelson," she sighed. "i just wish i were rich." just about this time there were a number of things janice desired money for. she had a little left in the bank at middletown; but she dared not use it for anything but actual necessities. no telling when daddy could send her any more for her own private use. perhaps, never. the papers gave little news of mexican troubles just now. of course, juan dicampa being dead, there was no use watching the news columns for _his_ name. and daddy was utterly buried from her! she had no means of informing herself whether he were alive or dead. she wrote to him faithfully at least once each week; but she did not know whether the letters reached him or not. as previously advised, she addressed the outer envelope for her father's letters in care of juan dicampa. but that seemed a hollow mockery now. she was sending the letters to a dead man. was it possible that her father received the missives? could juan dicampa's influence, now that he was dead, compass their safety? it seemed rather a ridiculous thing to do, yet janice continued to send them in care of the guerrilla chieftain. indeed, janice day was wading in deep waters. it was very difficult for her to carry a cheerful face about during this time of severe trial. but she threw herself, whole-heartedly, into the temperance campaign, and strove to keep her mind from dwelling upon her father's peril. chapter xxiii josephus comes out for prohibition it was while janice was staying with mrs. hopewell drugg during the storekeeper's absence in boston, that she met sophie narnay on the street. the child looked somewhat better as to dress, for janice had found her some frocks weeks before, and mrs. narnay had utilized the gifts to the very best advantage. but the poor little thing was quite as hungry looking as ever. "oh, miss janice!" she said, "i wish you'd come down to see our baby. she's ever so much worse'n she was. i guess 'twas a good thing 'at we never named her. 'twould jest ha' been a name wasted." "oh, dear, sophie! is she as bad as all that?" cried janice. "yep," declared the child. "can't the doctor help her?" "he's come a lot--an' he's been awful nice. mom says she didn't know there was such good folks in the whole worl' as him an' you. but there's somethin' the matter with the baby that no doctor kin help, so he says. an' i guess he's got the rights of it," concluded sophie, in her old-fashioned way. "i will certainly come down and see the poor little thing," promised janice. "and your mamma and johnnie and eddie. is your father at home now?" "nop. he's up in concannon's woods yet. they've took a new contrac'--him and mr. trimmins. an' mebbe it'll last all summer. dear me! i hope so. then pop won't be home to drink up all the money mom earns." "i will come down to-morrow," janice promised, for she was busy just then and could not accompany sophie to pine cove. this was saturday afternoon and janice was on her way to the steamboat dock to see if certain freight had arrived by the _constance colfax_ for hopewell drugg's store. she was doing all she could to help 'rill conduct the business while the storekeeper was away. during the week she had scarcely been home to the day house at all. marty had run the car over to the drugg place in the morning in time for her to start for middletown; and in the afternoon her cousin had come for the kremlin and driven it across town to the garage again. this saturday she would not use the car, for she wished to help 'rill, and marty had taken a party of his boy friends out in the kremlin. marty had become a very efficient chauffeur now and could be trusted, so his father said, not to try to hurdle the stone walls along the way, or to make the automobile climb the telegraph poles. "marm" parraday was sweeping the front porch and steps of the lake view inn. although the inn had become very well patronized now, the tavernkeeper's vigorous wife was not above doing much of her own work. "oh, janice day! how be ye?" she called to the girl. "i don't see ye often," and mrs. parraday smiled broadly upon her. as janice came nearer she saw that marm parraday did not look as she once did. her hair had turned very gray, there were deeper lines in her weather-beaten face, and a trembling of her lips and hands made janice's heart ache. if the inn was doing well and lem parraday was prospering, his wife seemed far from sharing in the good times that appeared to have come to the lake view inn. the great, rambling house had been freshened with a coat of bright paint; the steps and porch and porch railings were mended; the sod was green; the flower gardens gay; the gravel of the walks and driveway freshly raked; while the round boulders flanking the paths were brilliant with whitewash. "why!" said janice honestly, "the old place never looked so nice before, mrs. parraday. you have done wonders this spring. i hope you will have a prosperous season." mrs. parraday clutched the girl's arm tightly. janice saw that her eyes seemed quite wild in their expression as she pointed a trembling finger at the gilt sign at the corner of the house, lettered with the single word: "bar." "with that sign a-swingin' there, janice day?" she whispered. "you air wishin' us prosperity whilst lem sells pizen to his feller men?" "oh, mrs. parraday! i was not thinking of the liquor selling," said janice sympathetically. "ye'd better think of it, then," pursued the tavernkeeper's wife. "ye'd better think of it, day and night. that's what _i_ do. i git on my knees and pray 't lem won't prosper as long as that bar room's open. i do it 'fore lem himself. he says i'm a-tryin' ter pray the bread-and-butter right aout'n aour mouths. he's so mad at me he won't sleep in the same room an' has gone off inter the west wing ter sleep by hisself. but i don't keer," cried mrs. parraday wildly. "woe ter him that putteth the cup to his neighbor's lips! that's what _i_ tell him. 'wine is a mocker--strong drink is ragin'.' that's what the bible says. "an' lem--a perfessin' member of mr. middler's church--an' me attendin' the same for goin' on thutty-seven years----" "but surely, mrs. parraday, you are not to blame because your husband sells liquor," put in janice, sorry for the poor woman and trying to comfort her. "why ain't i?" sharply demanded the tavern-keeper's wife. "i've been lem's partner for endurin' all that time, too--thutty-seven years. i've been hopin' all the time we'd git ahead an' have suthin' beside a livin' here in polktown. _i've been hungry for money_! "like enough if i hadn't been so sharp after it, an' complained so 'cause we didn't git ahead, lem an' cross moore wouldn't never got their heads together an' 'greed ter try rum-selling to make the old inn pay a profit. "oh, yes! i see my fault now. oh, lord! i see it," groaned marm parraday, clasping her trembling hands. "but, believe me, janice day, i never seen this that's come to us. we hev brought the curse of rum inter this taown after it had been free from it for years. an' we shell hafter suffer in the end--an' suffer more'n anybody else is sufferin' through our fault." she broke off suddenly and, without looking again at janice, mounted the steps with her broom and disappeared inside the house. janice, heartsick and almost in tears, was turning away when a figure appeared from around the corner of the tavern--from the direction of the bar-room, in fact. but frank bowman's smiling, ruddy face displayed no sign of _his_ having sampled lem parraday's bar goods. "hullo, janice," he said cheerfully. "i've just been having a set-to with lem--and i don't know but he's got the best of me." "in what way?" asked the girl, brushing her eyes quickly that the young man might not see her tears. "why, this is pay day again, you know. my men take most of the afternoon off on pay day. they are cleaning up now, in the camp house, and will be over by and by to sample some of lem's goods," and the engineer sighed. "no, i can't keep them away from the place. i've tried. some of them won't come; but the majority will be in that pleasing condition known as 'howling drunk' before morning." "oh, frank! i wish lem would stop selling the stuff," cried janice.' "well, he won't. i've just been at him. i told him if he didn't close his bar at twelve o'clock tonight, according to the law, i'd appear in court against him myself. i mean to stand outside here with constable cantor to-night and see that the barroom is dark at twelve o'clock, anyway." "that will be a splendid move, frank!" janice said quickly, and with enthusiasm. "ye-es; as far as it goes. but lem said to me: 'don't forget this is a hotel, mr. bowman, and i can serve my guests in the dining room or in their own rooms, all night long, if i want to.' and that's true." "oh, dear me! so he can," murmured janice. "he's got me there," grumbled young bowman. "i never thought lem parraday any too sharp before; but he's learned a lot from joe bodley. that young fellow is about as shrewd and foxy as they make 'em." "yet they say he did not sell hopewell's violin at a profit, as he expected to," janice observed. "that's right, too. and it's queer," the engineer said. "i've seen that black-haired, foxy-looking chap around town more than once since joe bought the fiddle. hullo! what's the matter with dexter?" the engineer had got into step at once with janice, and they had by this time walked down high street to the steamboat dock. the freight-house door was open and walky dexter had loaded his wagon and was ready to drive up town; but josephus was headed down the dock. the expressman was climbing unsteadily to his seat, and in reply to something said by the freight agent, he shouted: "thas all right! thas all right! i kin turn josephus 'round on this dock. jefers-pelters! he could _back_ clean up town with _this_ load, i sh'd hope!" janice had said nothing in reply to frank bowman's last query; but the latter added, under his breath: "goodness! walky is pretty well screwed-up, isn't he? i just saw him at the hotel taking what he calls a 'snifter.'" "poor walky!" sighed janice. "poor josephus, _i_ should say," rejoined frank quickly. the expressman was turning the old horse on the empty dock. there was plenty of room for this manoeuver; but walky dexter's eyesight was not what it should be. or, perhaps he was less patient than usual with josephus. "git around there, josephus!" the expressman shouted. "back! back! i tell ye! consarn yer hide!" he yanked on the bit and josephus' heavy hoofs clattered on the resounding planks. the wagon was heavily laden; and when it began to run backward, with walky jerking on the reins, it could not easily be stopped. a rotten length of "string-piece" had been removed from one edge of the dock, and a new timber had not yet replaced it. as bad fortune would have it, walky backed his wagon directly into this opening. "hold on there! where ye goin' to--ye crazy ol' critter?" bawled the freight agent. "hul-_lo_! jefers-pelters!" gasped the suddenly awakened walky, casting an affrighted glance over his shoulder. "i'm a-backin' over the dump, ain't i? gid-_ap_, josephus!" but when once josephus made up his slow mind to back, he did it thoroughly. he, too, expected to feel the rear wheels of the heavy farm wagon bump against the string-piece. "gid-_ap_, josephus!" yelled walky again, and rose up to smite the old horse with the ends of the reins. he had no whip--nor would one have helped matters, perhaps, at this juncture. the rear wheels went over the edge of the dock. the lake was high, being swelled by the spring floods. "plump!" the back of the wagon plunged into the water, and, the bulk of the load being over the rear axle, the forward end shot up off the front truck. wagon body and freight sunk into the lake. walky, as though shot from a catapult, described a parabola over his horse's head and landed with a crash on all fours directly under josephus' nose. never was the old horse known to make an unnecessary motion. but the sudden flight and unexpected landing on the dock of his driver, quite excited josephus. with a snort he scrambled backward, the front wheels went over the edge of the dock and dragged josephus with them. harnessed as he was, and still attached to the shafts, the old horse went into the lake with a great splash. "hey! whoa! whoa, josephus! jefers-pelters! ain't this a purty to-do?" roared walky, recovering his footing with more speed than grace. "naow see that ol' critter! what's he think he's doin'--takin' a swimmin' lesson?" for josephus, with one mighty plunge, broke free from the shafts. he struck out for the shore and reached shallow water almost immediately. walky ran off the dock and along the rocky shore to head the old horse off and catch him. but josephus had no intention of being so easily caught. either he had lost confidence in his owner, or some escapade of his colthood had come to his memory. he splashed ashore, dodged the eager hand of walky, and with tail up, nostrils expanded, mane ruffled, and dripping water as he ran, josephus galloped up the hillside and into the open lots behind polktown. walky dexter, with very serious mien, came slowly back to the dock. janice and frank bowman, as well as the freight agent, had been held spellbound by these exciting incidents. frank and the agent were now convulsed with laughter; but janice sympathized with the woeful expressman. the latter halted on the edge of the dock, gazing from the shafts of his wagon sticking upright out of the lake to the snorting old horse up on the hill. then he scratched his bare, bald crown, sighed, and muttered quite loud enough for janice to hear: "jefers-pelters! i reckon old josephus hez come out for prohibition, an' no mistake!" chapter xxiv another gold piece fortunately for walky dexter, the freight that he had backed into the lake was not perishable. it could not be greatly injured by water. with the help of neighbors and loiterers and a team of horses, the two sections of the unhung wagon and the crates of agricultural tools were hauled out of the lake. "there, walky," said the freight agent, wiping his perspiring brow when the work was completed--for this happened on a warm day in early june. "i hope ter goodness you look where you air backin' to, nex' time." "perhaps it will be just as well if he _backs_ where he's _looking_," suggested the young engineer, having removed his coat and aided very practically in the straightening out of walky's affairs. this greatly pleased janice, who had remained to watch proceedings. "come, naow, tell the truth, walky dexter," drawled another of the expressman's helpers. "was ye seein' double when ye did that trick?" there was a general laugh at this question. walky dexter, for once, had no ready reply. indeed, he had been particularly serious all through the work of re-establishing his wagon on the dock. "well, walky, ye oughter stand treat on this, i vum!" said the freight agent. "suthin' long, an' cool, would go mighty nice." "isuckles is aout o' season--he! he!" chuckled another, frankly doubtful of walky's generosity. "lock up your freight house, sam, and ye shall have it," declared walky, with sudden briskness. "that's the ticket!" exclaimed the doubting thomas, with a quick change of tone. "spoke like a soldier, walky. i hope joe's jest tapped a fresh kaig." walky halted and scratched his head as he looked from one to another of the expectant group. "why, ter tell the trewth," he jerked out, "i'm feelin' more like some o' thet thar acid phosphate massey sells out'n his sody-fountain. le's go up there." "jest as yeou say, walky. you're the doctor," said the freight agent, though somewhat crestfallen, as were the others, at this suggestion. "don't count me in, walky--though i'm obliged to you," laughed bowman, who was getting into his coat. "jest the same we'll paternize the drug store for this once," said the expressman, stoutly, and with gravity he led the way up the hill. later walky went across into the fields and tried to catch josephus; but that wise old creature seemed suddenly to have lost confidence in his master, and refused to be won by his tones, or even the shaking of an empty oat-measure. so walky was obliged to go home and bring down josephus' mate to draw the freight to its destination. janice parted from the young engineer and walked up hillside avenue, intending to take supper at home and afterward return to the drugg place to spend another night or two with the storekeeper's lonely wife. she was sitting with aunt 'mira on the side porch before supper, while the "short bread" was baking and uncle jason and marty were at the chores, when walky dexter drew near with his now all but empty wagon, and stopped in the lane to bring in a new cultivator uncle jason had sent for. "evenin', miz' day," observed walky, eyeing aunt 'mira and her niece askance. "naow say it!" "say what, mr. dexter?" asked mrs. day puzzled. "why, i been gittin' of it all over taown," groaned the expressman. "sarves me right, i s'pose. i see the reedic'lous side o' most things that happen ter other folks--an' they gotter right ter laff at me." "why, what's happened ye?" asked aunt 'mira. "jefers-pelters!" ejaculated walky. "ain't janice tol' ye?" "nothin' about you," mrs. day assured him. "she'd be a good 'un ter tell secrets to, wouldn't she?" the expressman said, with a queer twist of his face. "ain't ye heard how i dumped m' load--an' josephus--inter the lake?" and he proceeded to recount the accident with great relish and good humor. marty and his father, bringing in the milk, stopped to listen and laugh. at the conclusion of the story, as marty was pumping a pail of water for the kitchen shelf, walky said: "gimme a dipper o' that, boy. my mouth's so dry i can't speak the trewth. that's it--thanky!" "ye oughtn't to be dry, walky--comin' right past lem parraday's _ho_-tel," remarked mr. day, with a chuckle. "wal, naow! that's what i was goin' ter speak abeout," said walky, with sudden vigor. "janice, here, an' me hev been havin' an argyment right along about that rum sellin' business----" "about the _drinking_, at any rate, walky," interposed janice, gently. "wal--ahem!--ya-as. about the drinkin' of it, i s'pose. yeou said, janice, that my takin' a snifter now and then was an injury to other critters as well as to m'self." "and i repeat it," said the girl confidently. "d'ye know," jerked out walky, with his head on one side and his eyes screwed up, "that i b'lieve josephus agrees with ye?" "ho! ho!" laughed marty. "was you fresh from lem parraday's bar when you backed the old feller over the dock?" "wal, i'd had a snifter," drawled walky, his eyes twinkling. "anyhow, i'm free ter confess that i don't see how i could ha' done sech a fullish thing if i hadn't been drinkin'--it's a fac'! i never did b'lieve what little i took would ever hurt anybody. but poor ol' josephus! he might ha' been drowned." "oh, walky!" cried janice. "do you see that?" "i see the light at last, janice," solemnly said the expressman. "i guess i'd better let the stuff alone. i dunno when i'd git a hoss as good as josephus----" "no nearer'n the boneyard," put in marty, _sotto voce_. "anyhow, i see my failin' sure enough. never was so reckless b'fore in all my life," pursued walky. "mebbe, if i kep' on drinkin' that stuff they sell daown ter the _ho_-tel, i'd drown both m' hosses--havin' drowned m' own brains--like twin kittens, in ha'f an inch o' alcohol! haw! haw! haw!" but despite his laughter janice saw that walky dexter was much in earnest. she said to nelson that evening, in hopewell drugg's store: "i consider walky's conversion is the best thing that's happened yet in our campaign for prohibition." "a greater conquest than _mine_?" laughed the schoolmaster. "why, nelson," janice said sweetly, "i know that you have only to think carefully on any subject to come to the right conclusion. but poor walky isn't 'long' on thought, if he is on 'talk,'" and she laughed a little. it was after sunday school the following afternoon that janice went again to pine cove to see the narnay baby. she had conversed with busy dr. poole for a few moments and learned his opinion of the case. it was not favorable. "not much chance for the child," said the brusk doctor. "never has been much chance for it. one of those children that have no right to be born." "oh, doctor!" murmured janice. "a fact. it has never had enough nutrition and is going to die of plain starvation." "can nothing be done to save it? if it had plenty of nourishment _now_?" "no use. gone too far," growled the physician, shaking his grizzled head. "if i knew how to save it, i would; that's my job. but the best thing that can happen is its death. ought to be a hangin' matter for poor folks to have so many children, anyway," he concluded grimly. "that sounds _awful_ to me, dr. poole," janice said. "there is something awful about nature. nature takes care of these things, if we doctors are not allowed to." "why! what do you mean?" "the law of the survival of the fittest is what keeps this old world of ours from being overpopulated by weaklings." janice day was deeply impressed by the doctor's words, and thought over them sadly as she walked down the hill toward pine cove. she went by the old path past mr. cross moore's and saw him in his garden, wheeling his wife in her chair. mrs. moore was a frail woman, and because of long years of invalidism, a most exacting person. she had great difficulty in keeping a maid because of her unfortunate temper; and sometimes mr. moore was left alone to keep house. nobody could suit the invalid as successfully as her husband. "wheel me to the fence. i want to speak to that girl, cross," commanded the wife sharply, and the town selectman did so. "janice day!" called mrs. moore, "i wish to speak to you." janice, smiling, ran across the street and shook hands with the sick woman over the fence palings. but she barely nodded to mr. cross moore. "i understand you're one o' these folks that's talking so foolish about prohibition, and about shutting up the hotel. is that so?" demanded mrs. moore, her sunken, black eyes snapping. "i don't think it is foolish, mrs. moore," janice said pleasantly. "and we don't wish to close the inn--only its bar." "same thing," decided mrs. moore snappishly. "takin' the bread and butter out o' people's mouths! ye better be in better business--all of ye. and a young girl like you! i'd like to have my stren'th and have the handling of you, janice day. i'd teach ye that children better be seen than heard. where you going to, cross moore?" for her husband had turned the chair and was starting away from the fence. "well--now--mother! you've told the girl yer mind, ain't ye?" suggested mr. moore. "that's what you wanted to do, wasn't it?" "i wish she was my young one," said mrs. moore, between her teeth, "and i had the use o' my limbs. i'd make her behave herself!" "i wish she _was_ ours, mother," mr. moore said kindly. "i guess we'd be mighty proud of her." janice did not hear his words. she had walked away from the fence with flaming cheeks and tears in her eyes. she was sorry for mrs. moore's misfortunes and had always tried to be kind to her; but this seemed such an unprovoked attack. janice day craved approbation as much as any girl living. she appreciated the smiles that met her as she walked the streets of polktown. the scowls hurt her tender heart, and the harsh words of mrs. moore wounded her deeply. "i suppose that is the way they both feel toward me," she thought, with a sigh. the wreck of the old fishing dock--a favorite haunt of little lottie drugg--was at the foot of the hill, and janice halted here a moment to look out across it, and over the quiet cove, to the pine-covered point that gave the shallow basin its name. lottie had believed that in the pines her echo lived, and janice could almost hear now the childish wail of the little one as she shouted, "he-a! he-a! he-a!" to the mysterious sprite that dwelt in the pines and mocked her with its voice. blind and very deaf, lottie had been wont to run fearlessly out upon the broken dock and "play with her echo," as she called it. a wave of pity swept over janice's mind and heart. suppose lottie should again completely lose the boon of sight. what would become of her as she grew into girlhood and womanhood? "poor little dear! i almost fear for hopewell to come home and tell us what the doctors say," sighed janice. then, even more tender memories associated with the old wharf filled janice day's thought. on it, in the afterglow of a certain sunset, nelson haley had told her how the college at millhampton had invited him to join its faculty, and he had asked her if she approved of his course in polktown. it had been decided between them that polktown was a better field for his efforts in his chosen profession for the present--as the college appointment would remain open to him--and janice was proud to think that meanwhile he had built the polktown school up, and had succeeded so well. this spot was the scene of their first really serious talk. she wondered now if her advice had been wise, after all. suppose nelson had gone to millhampton immediately when he was called there? he would have escaped this awful accusation that had been brought against him--that was sure. his situation now was most unfortunate. having requested a vacation from his school, he was receiving no pay all these weeks that he was idle. and janice knew the young man could ill afford this. he had been of inestimable help to mr. middler and the other men who had charge of the campaign for prohibition that was moving on so grandly in polktown. but that work could not be paid for. janice believed nelson was now nearly penniless. his situation troubled her mind almost as much as that of her father in mexico. she went on along the shore to the northward, toward the little group of houses at the foot of the bluff, in one of which the narnays lived. there were the children grouped together at one end of the rickety front porch. their mother sat on the stoop, rocking herself to and fro with the sickly baby across her lean knees, her face hopeless, her figure slouched forward and uncouth to look at. a more miserable looking party janice day had never before seen. and the reason for it was quickly explained to her. at the far end of the porch lay narnay, on his back in the sun, his mouth open, the flies buzzing around his red face, sleeping off--it was evident--the night's debauch. "oh, my dear!" moaned janice, taking mrs. narnay's feebly offered hand in both her own, and squeezing it tightly. "i--i wish i might help you." "ye can't, miss. there ain't nothin' can be done for us--'nless the good lord would take us all," and there was utter hopelessness and desperation in her voice. "don't say that! it must be that there are better times in store for you all," said janice. "with _that_?" asked mrs. narnay, nodding her uncombed head toward the sleeping drunkard. "not much. only for baby, here. there's a better time comin' for her--thanks be!" "oh!" "doctor says she can't live out th' summer. she's goin' ter miss growin' up ter be what _i_ be--an' what sophie'll proberbly be. it's a mercy. but it's hard ter part 'ith the little thing. when she is bright, she's that cunnin'!" as janice came up the steps to sit down beside the poor woman and play with the baby, that smiled at her so wanly, the sleeping man grunted, rolled over toward them, half opened his eyes, and then rolled back again. something rattled on the boards of the porch. janice looked and saw several small coins that had rolled out of the man's trousers pocket. mrs. narnay saw them too. "git them, sophie--quick!" she breathed peremptorily. "cheese it, mom!" gasped sophie, running on tiptoe toward her sleeping father. "he'll nigh erbout kill us when he wakes up." "i don't keer," said the woman, grabbing the coins when sophie had collected them. "he come out o' the woods last night and he had some money an' i hadn't a cent. i sent him to git things from the store and all he brought back--and that was at midnight when they turned him out o' the hotel--was a bag of crackers and a pound of oatmeal. and he's got money! he kin kill me if he wants. i'm goin' ter have some of it--oh, look! what's this?" janice had almost cried out in amazement, too. one of the coins in the woman's toil-creased palm was a gold piece. "five dollars! mebbe he had more," mrs. narnay said anxiously. "mebbe concannon's paid 'em all some more money, and jim's startin' in to drink it up." "better put that money back, mom, he'll be mad," said sophie, evidently much alarmed. "he won't be ugly when the drink wears off and he ain't got no money to git no more," her mother said. "jim never is." "but he'll find out youse got that gold coin. he's foxy," said the shrewd child. janice drew forth her purse. "let me have that five dollar gold piece," she said to mrs. narnay. "i'll give you five one dollar bills for it. you won't have to show but one of the bills at a time, that is sure." "that's a good idea, miss," said the woman hopefully. "and mebbe i can make him start back for the woods again to-night. oh, dear me! 'tis an awful thing! i don't want him 'round--an' yet when he's sober he's the nicest man 'ith young'uns ye ever see. he jest dotes on this poor little thing," and she looked down again into the weazened face of the baby. "it is too bad," murmured janice; but she scarcely gave her entire mind to what the woman was saying. here was a second gold piece turned up in polktown. and, as uncle jason had said, such coins were not often seen in the hamlet. janice had more than one reason for securing the gold piece, and she determined to learn, if she could, if this one was from the collection that had been stolen from the school-house weeks before. chapter xxv in doubt the first of all feminine prerogatives is the right to change one's mind. janice day changed hers a dozen times about that five dollar gold piece. it was at last decided, however, by the young girl that she would not immediately take nelson haley into her confidence. why excite hope in his mind only, perhaps, to have it crushed again? better learn all she could about the gold coin that had rolled out of jim narnay's pocket, before telling the young schoolmaster. in her heart janice did not believe narnay was the person who had stolen the coin collection from the schoolhouse. he might have taken part in such a robbery, at night, and while under the influence of liquor; but he never would have had the courage to do such a thing by daylight and alone. narnay might be a companion of the real criminal; but more likely, janice believed, he was merely an accessory after the fact. this, of course, if the gold piece should prove to be one of those belonging to the collection which mr. haley was accused of stealing. the coin found in hopewell drugg's possession, and which had come to him through joe bodley, might easily have been put into circulation by the same person as this coin narnay had dropped. the ten dollar coin had gone into the tavern till, and this five dollar coin would probably have gone there, too, had chance not put it in janice day's way. "first of all, i must discover if there was a coin like this one in that collection," the girl told herself. and early on monday morning, on her way to the seminary, she drove around through high street and stopped before the drugstore. fortunately mr. massey was not busy and she could speak to him without delaying her trip to middletown. "what's that?" he asked her, rumpling his topknot in his usual fashion when he was puzzled or disturbed. "list of them coins? i should say i did have 'em. the printed list mr. hobart left with 'em wasn't taken by--by--well, by whoever took 'em. here 'tis." "you speak," said janice quickly, "as though you still believed mr. haley to be the thief." "well!" and again the druggist's hands went through his hair. "i dunno what to think. if he done it, he's actin' mighty funny. there ain't no warrant out for him now. he can leave town--go clean off if he wants--and nobody will, or can, stop him. and ye'd think if he had all that money he _would_ do so." "oh, mr. massey!" "well, i'm merely puttin' the case," said the druggist. "that would be sensible. he's got fifteen hundred dollars or more--if he took the coin collection. an' it ain't doin' him a 'tarnal bit of good, as i can see. i told cross moore last night that i believe we'd been barkin' up the wrong tree all this time." "what did he say?" cried janice eagerly. "well--he didn't _say_. ye know how cross is--as tight-mouthed as a clam with the lockjaw. but it is certain sure that we committeemen have our own troubles. mr. haley was a master good teacher. ye got to hand it to him on _that_. and this feller the board sent us ain't got no more idea of handling the school than i have of dancing the spanish fandango. "however, that ain't the p'int. what i was speakin' of is this: nelse haley is either a blamed fool, or else he never stole that money," and the druggist said it with desperation in his tone. "i hear he's took a job at sixteen a month and board with elder concannon--and farmin' for the elder ain't a job that no boy with money _and_ right good sense would ever tackle." "oh, mr. massey! has he?" for this was news indeed to janice. "yep. that's what he's done. it looks like his runners was scrapin' on bare ground when he'd do that. course, i need a feller right in this store--behind that sody-fountain. and a smart, nice appearin' one like nelse haley would be just the ticket--'nough sight better than jack besmith was. but i couldn't hire the schoolteacher, 'cause it would create so much talk. but goin' to work on a farm--and for a slave-driver like the elder--well!" janice understood very well why nelson had said nothing to her about this. he was very proud indeed and did not want the girl to suspect how poor he had really become. nelson had said he would stay in polktown until the mystery of the stolen coin collection was cleared up--or, at least, until it was proved that he had nothing to do with it. "and the poor fellow has just about come to the end of his rope," thought janice commiseratingly. "oh, dear, me! even if i had plenty of money, he wouldn't let me help him. nelson wouldn't take money from a girl--not even borrow it!" however, janice stuck to her text with massey and obtained the list of the lost collection to look at. "dunno what you want it for," said the druggist. "you going sleuthing for the thief, miss janice?" "maybe," she returned, with a serious smile. "i reckon that ten dollar gold piece that joe bodley took in at the hotel was a false alarm." "if joe bodley had told you how he came by it, it would have helped some, would it not, mr. massey?" "sure--it might. but he couldn't remember who gave it to him," said the man, wagging his head forlornly. "i wonder?" said janice, using one of her uncle's favorite expressions, and so made her way out of the store and into her car again. when she had time that forenoon at the seminary she spread out the sheet on which the description of the coins was printed, and looked for the note relating to the five dollar gold piece in her possession. it was there. it was not a particularly old or a very rare coin, however. there might be others of the same date and issue in circulation. so, after all, the fact that narnay had it proved nothing--unless she could discover how he came by it--who had given it to him. in the afternoon janice drove home by the upper road and ran her car into elder concannon's yard. it was the busy season for the elder, for he conducted two big farms and had a number of men working for him besides his regular farm hands. he was ever ready to talk with janice day, however, and he came out of the paddock now, in his old dust coat and broad-brimmed hat, smiling cordially at her. "come in and have a pot of tea with me," he said. "ye know i'm partial to 'old maid's tipple' and mrs. grayson will have it ready about now, i s'pose. stop! i'll tell her to bring it out on the side porch. it's shady there. you look like a cup would comfort you, janice. what's the matter?" "i've lots of troubles, elder concannon," she said, with a sigh. "but you have your share, too, so i'll keep most of mine to myself," and she hopped out from behind the wheel of the automobile. they went to the porch and the elder halloaed in at the screen door. his housekeeper soon bustled out with the tray. she remained to take one cup of tea herself. then, when she had gone about her duties, janice opened the subject upon which she had come to confer. "how are those men getting on in your wood lot, elder?" "what men--and what lot?" he asked smiling. "i don't know what lot it is; but i mean mr. trimmins and those others." "oh! trimmins and jim narnay and that besmith boy?" "yes." "why, they are moving on slowly. this is their third job with me since winter. once or twice they've kicked over the traces and gone on a spree----" "that was when you paid them?" "that was when i _had_ to pay them," said the elder. "they work pretty well when they haven't any money." "have you paid them lately, sir?" asked janice. "i am asking for a very good reason--not out of curiosity." "i have not. it's a month and more since they saw the color of my money. hold on! that's not quite true," he added suddenly. "i gave jim narnay a dollar saturday afternoon." "oh!" "he came by here on his way to town. said he was going down to see his sick baby. she _is_ sick, isn't she?" "oh, yes," murmured janice. "poor little thing!" "well, he begged for some money, and i let him have a dollar. he said he didn't want to go down home without a cent in his pocket. so i gave it to him." "only a dollar?" repeated the girl thoughtfully. the old man's face flushed a little, and he said tartly: "i reckon _that_ did him no good. by the looks of his face when he went through here sunday night he'd proberbly spent it all in liquor, i sh'd say." "oh, no! i didn't mean to criticize your generosity," janice said quickly. "i believe you gave him more than was good for him. i know that mrs. narnay and the children had little benefit of it." "that's what i supposed," grunted the elder. janice sipped her tea and, looking over the edge of her cup at him, asked: "having much trouble, elder, with your new man?" "what new man?" snorted the old gentleman, his mouth screwed up very tightly. "i hear you have the school teacher working for you," she said. "well! so i have," he admitted, his face suddenly broadening. "trust you women folks for finding things out in a hurry. but he ain't teaching school up here--believe me!" "no?" "he's helping clean up my hog lot. i dunno but maybe he thinks it isn't any worse than managing polktown boys," and the elder chuckled. but janice was serious and she bent forward and laid a hand upon the old man's arm. "oh, elder concannon! don't be too hard on him, will you?" she begged. he grinned at her. "i won't break him all up in business. we want to use him down town in these meetings we're going to hold for temperance. he's got a way of talking that convinces folks, janice--i vow! remember how he talked for the new schoolhouse? i haven't forgotten that, for he beat me that time. "now; we can't afford to hire many of these outside speakers for prohibition--it costs too much to get them here. but i have told mr. haley to brush up his ideas, and by and by we'll have him make a speech in polktown. he can practise on the pigs for a while," added the elder laughing; "and maybe after all they won't be so dif'rent from some of them in town that i want should hear the young man when he does spout." so janice was comforted, and ran down town to the drugg place in a much more cheerful frame of mind. marty was waiting at the store for the car. there was a special reason for his being so prompt. "look-a-here!" he called. "what d'ye know about this?" and he waved something over his head. "what is it, marty day?" janice cried, looking at the small object in wonder. "another letter from uncle brockey! hooray! he ain't dead yet!" shouted the boy. his cousin seized the missive--fresh from the post-office--and gazed anxiously at the envelope. it was postmarked in one of the border towns many days after the report of juan dicampa's death; yet the writing on the envelope was the handwriting of the guerrilla chief. "goodness me!" gasped janice, "what can this mean?" she broke the seal. as usual the envelope inside was addressed to her by her father. and as she hastily scanned the letter she saw no mention made of juan dicampa's death. indeed, mr. broxton day wrote just as though his own situation, at least, had not changed. and he seemed to have received most of her letters. what did it mean? if the guerrilla leader had been shot by the federals, how was it possible for her father's letters to still come along, redirected in juan dicampa's hand? doubt assailed her mind--many doubts, indeed. although mr. broxton day seemed still in safety, the mystery surrounding his situation in mexico grew mightily in janice's mind. that evening hopewell drugg returned from boston and reported that lottie would have to remain under the doctors' care for a time. they, too, were in doubt. nobody could yet say whether the child would lose her sight or not. chapter xxvi the tide turns these doubts, however, did not switch janice day's thought off the line of the stolen gold coins. the five dollar gold piece found in the possession of jim narnay still raised in the girl's mind a number of queries. it was a mystery, she believed, that when solved might aid in clearing nelson haley of suspicion. of course, the coin she carried in her purse might not be one of those lost with the collection. that was impossible to decide at the moment. the case of the ten-dollar coin was different. that was an exceedingly rare one and in all probability nobody but a person ignorant of its value would have put it into circulation. nevertheless, how did jim narnay get hold of a five dollar gold piece? elder concannon had not given it to him. narnay had come to town on that saturday evening with only a dollar of the elder's money in his pocket. did he bring the coin with him, or did he obtain it after reaching town? and who had given the gold piece to the man, in either case? janice would have been glad to take somebody into her confidence in this matter; but who should it be? not her uncle or her aunt. neither hopewell nor 'rill was to be thought of. and the minister, or elder concannon, seemed too much apart from this business to be conferred with. and nelson---- she did go to mrs. beaseley's one evening, hoping that she might find nelson there, for she had not seen the young man or heard from him since he had gone out of town to work for elder concannon. he was not at the widow's, and she found that good but lachrymose woman in tears. "i'm a poor lone woman--loner and lorner than i've felt since my poor, sainted charles passed away. oh, janice! it seems a pitiful shame that such a one as mr. haley should have to go to work on a farm when he can do such a lot of other things--and better things." "i don't know about there being anything much better than farming--if one has a taste for it," said janice cheerfully. "but an educated man--a teacher!" groaned mrs. beaseley. "an' i felt like he was my own son--'specially since cross moore and them others been houndin' him about that money. cross moore come to me, an' says he: 'miz beaseley, 'tis your duty to let me look through that young man's things when he's out. we'll either clear him or clench it on him.' "an' says i: 'cross moore, if you put your fut across my threshold i'll sartain sure take the broom to you--an' ye'll find _that's_ clenched, a'ready!'" "oh, mrs. beaseley!" gasped janice, yet inclined to laugh, too. "oh, i'd ha' done it," threatened the widow, the tears still on her cheeks. "think o' them, houndin' poor mr. haley so! why! if my poor sainted charles was alive, he'd run cross moore clean down to the lake--an' inter it, i expect, like walky dexter's boss. "and if he warn't so proud----" "_who_ is so proud, mrs. beaseley?" asked janice, who had some difficulty at times in following the good woman's line of talk. "why--mr. nelson haley. i did make him leave his books here, and ev'rything he warn't goin' ter use out there at the elder's. and i'm going to keep them two rooms jest as he had 'em, and he shell come back here whenever he likes. money! what d' i keer whether he pays me money or not? my poor, sainted charles left me enough to live on as long as a poor, lorn, lone creeter like me wants ter live. nelson haley is welcome ter stay here for the rest of his endurin' life, if he wants to, an' never pay me a cent!" "i don't suppose he could take such great favors as you offer him, mrs. beaseley," said janice, kissing her. "but you are a _dear_! and i know he must appreciate what you have already done for him." "wish't 'twas more! wish't 'twas more!" sobbed mrs. beaseley. "but he'll come back ter me nex' fall. i know! when he goes ter teachin' ag'in, he _must_ come here to live." "oh, mrs. beaseley! do you think they will _let_ nelson teach again in the polktown school?" cried the girl. "my mercy me! d'yeou mean to tell me cross moore and massey and them other men air perfect fules?" cried the widow. "here 'tis 'most time for school to close, and they tell me the graduatin' class ain't nowhere near where they ought to be in their books. the supervisor come over himself, and he says he never seen sech ridiculous work as this mr. adams has done here. he--he's a _baby_! and he ought to be teachin' babies--not bein' principal of a graded school sech as mr. haley built up here." there were plenty of other people in polktown who spoke almost as emphatically against the present state of the school and in nelson's favor. three months or so of bad management had told greatly in the discipline and in the work of the pupils. a few who would graduate from the upper grade were badly prepared, and would have to make up some of their missed studies during the summer if they were to be accepted as pupils in their proper grade at the middletown academy. mr. haley's record up to the very day he had withdrawn from his position of teacher was as good as any teacher in the state. indeed, several teachers from surrounding districts had met with him in polktown once a month and had taken work and instructions from him. the state board of education and the supervisors had appreciated nelson's work. mr. adams had been the only substitute they could give polktown at such short notice. he was supposed to have had the same training, as mr. haley; but--"different men, different minds." "ye'd oughter come over to our graduation exercises, janice," said marty, with a grin. "we're goin' to do ourselves proud. hi tunket! that adams is so green that i wonder walky's old josephus ain't bit him yet, thinkin' he was a wisp of grass." "now marty!" said his mother, admonishingly. "fact," said her son. "adams wants me to speak a piece on that great day. i told him i couldn't--m' lip's cracked!" and marty giggled. "but sally prentiss is going to recite 'a psalm of life,' and peke ringgold is going to tell us all about 'bozzar--bozzar--is'--as though we hadn't been made acquainted with him ever since hector was a pup. and hector's a big dog now!" "you're one smart young feller, now, ain't ye?" said his father, for this information was given out by marty at the supper table one evening just before the "great day," as he called the last session of school for that year. "i b'lieve i'm smart enough to know when to go in and keep dry," returned his son, flippantly. "but i've my doubts about mr. adams--for a fac'." "nev' mind," grunted his father. "there'll be a change before next fall." "there'd better be--or i don't go back for my last year at school. now, you can bet on that!" cried marty, belligerently. "hi tunket! i'd jest as soon be taught by an old maid after all as adams." differently expressed, the whole town seemed of a mind regarding the school and the failure of mr. adams. the committee got over that ignominious graduation day as well as possible. mr. middler did all he could to make it a success, and he made a very nice speech to the pupils and their parents. the minister could not be held responsible in any particular for the failure of the school. of all the committee, he had had nothing to do with nelson haley's resignation. as walky dexter said, mr. middler "flocked by himself." he had little to do with the other four members of the school committee. "and when it comes 'lection," said walky, dogmatically, "there's a hull lot on us will have jest abeout as much to do with cross moore and massey and old crawford and joe pellett, as mr. middler does. jefers-pelters! if they don't put nobody else up for committeemen, i'll vote for the taown pump!" "ya-as, walky," said uncle jason, slily. "that'd be likely, i reckon. i hear ye air purty firmly seated on the water wagon." chapter xxvii the tempest mr. cross moore was not a man who easily or frequently recanted before either public or private opinion. as political "boss" of the town he had often found himself opposed to many of his neighbors' wishes. neither sharp tongue nor sharp look disturbed him--apparently, at least. besides, mr. moore loved a fight "for the fight's sake," as the expression is. he had backed lem parraday in applying for a liquor license, to benefit his own pocket. it had to be a good reason indeed, to change mr. moore's attitude on the liquor selling question. the hotel barroom held great attractions for many of cross moore's supporters, although mr. moore himself seldom stepped into that part of the hotel. the politician did not trust lem parraday to represent him, for lem was "no wiser than the law allows," to quote his neighbors. but joe bodley, the young barkeeper, imported from the city, was just the sort of fellow cross moore could use. and about this time joe bodley was in a position where his fingers "itched for the feel of money." not other people's money, but his own. he had scraped together all he had saved, and drawn ahead on his wages, to make up the hundred dollars paid hopewell drugg for the violin, and---- "seems ter me that old fiddle is what they call a sticker, ain't it, 'stead of a straddlevarious?" chuckled walky dexter, referring to the instrument hanging on the wall behind joe's head. "oh, i'll get my money back on it," bodley replied, with studied carelessness. "maybe i'll raffle it off." "not here in polktown ye won't," said the expressman. "yeou might as well try ter raffle off a white elephant." "pshaw! of course not. but a fine fiddle like that--a real cremona--will bring a pretty penny in the city. there, walky, roll that barrel right into this corner behind the bar. i'll have to put a spigot in it soon. might's well do it now. 'tis the real simon-pure article, walky. have a snifter?" "on the haouse?" queried walky, briskly. "sure. it's a tin roof," laughed bodley. "much obleeged ter ye," said walky. "as yer so pressin'--don't mind if i do. a glass of sars'p'rilla'll do me." "what's the matter with you lately, walky?" demanded the barkeeper, pouring the non-alcoholic drink with no very good grace. "lost your taste for a man's drink?" "sort o'," replied walky, calmly. "here's your health, joe. i thought you had that fiddle sold before you went to hopewell arter it?" "to tell ye the truth, walky----" "don't do it if it hurts ye, joe. haw! haw!" the barkeeper made a wry face and continued: "that feller i got it for, only put up a part of the price. i thought he was a square sport; but he ain't. when he got a squint at the old fiddle while hopewell was down here playing for the dance, he was just crazy to buy it. any old price, he said! after i got it," proceeded joe, ruefully, "he tries to tell me it ain't worth even what i paid for it." "wal--'tain't, is it?" said walky, bluntly. "if it's worth a hundred it's worth a hundred and fifty," said the barkeeper doggedly. "ya-as--_if_," murmured the expressman. "however, nobody's going to get it for any less--believe me! least of all that fontaine. i hate these kanucks, anyway. i know _him_. he's trying to jew me down," said joe, angrily. "wal, you take it to the city," advised walky. "you kin make yer spec on it there, ye say." there was a storm cloud drifting across old ti as the expressman climbed to his wagon seat and drove away from the inn. it had been a very hot day and was now late afternoon--just the hour for a summer tempest. the tiny waves lapped the loose shingle along the lake shore. there was the hot smell of over-cured grass on the uplands. the flower beds along the hilly street which janice day mounted after a visit to the narnays, were quite scorched now. this street brought janice out by the lake view inn. she, too, saw the threatening cloud and hastened her steps. sharp lightnings flickered along its lower edge, lacing it with pale blue and saffron. the mutter of the thunder in the distance was like a heavy cannonade. "maybe it sounded so years and years ago when the british and french fought over there," janice thought. "how these hills must have echoed to the roll of the guns! and when ethan allen and his green mountain boys discharged the guns in a salvo of thanksgiving over old ti's capture--oh! is that you, nelson? how you startled me." for the young schoolmaster had come up the hill behind her at a breathless gait. "we've got to hurry," he said. "that's going to be what marty would call a 'humdinger' of a storm, janice." "dear me! i didn't know you were in town," she said happily. "we got the last of the hay in this morning," said the bronzed young fellow, smiling. "i helped mow away and the elder was kind enough to say that i had done well and could have the rest of the day to myself. i fancy the shrewd old fellow knew it was about to rain," and he laughed. "and how came you down this way?" janice asked. "followed your trail," laughed nelson. i went in to mrs. beaseley's of course. "and then at drugg's i learned you had gone down to see jim narnay's folks. but i didn't catch you there. goodness, janice, but they are a miserable lot! i shouldn't think you could bear to go there." "oh, nelson, the poor little baby--it is so sick and it cheers mrs. narnay up a little if i call on her. besides, sophie and the little boys are just as cunning as they can be. i can't help sympathizing with them." "do save some of your sympathy for other folks, janice," said nelson, rather ruefully. "you ought to have seen the blisters i had on my hands the first week or two i was a farmer." "oh, nelson! that's too bad," she cried, with solicitude. "too late!" he returned, laughing. "they are callouses now--marks of honest toil. whew! see that dust-cloud!" the wind had ruffled the lake in a wide strip, right across to the eastern shore. whitecaps were dancing upon the surface and the waves ran a long way up the beach. the wind, rushing ahead of the rain-cloud, caught up the dust in the streets and advanced across the town. janice hid her face against the sleeve of her light frock. nelson led her by the hand as the choking cloud passed over. then the rain, in fitful gusts at first, pelted them so sharply that the girl cried out. "oh, nelson, it's like hail!" she gasped. a vivid flash of lightning cleaved the cloud; the thunder-peal drowned the schoolmaster's reply. but janice felt herself fairly caught up in his arms and he mounted some steps quickly. a voice shouted: "bring her right this way, school teacher! right in here!" it was lem parraday's voice. they had mounted the side porch of the inn and when janice opened her eyes she was in the barroom. the proprietor of the inn slammed to the door against the thunderous rush of the breaking storm. the rain dashed in torrents against the house. the blue flashes of electricity streaked the windows constantly, while the roll and roar of the thunder almost deafened those in the darkened barroom. joe bodley was behind the bar briskly serving customers. he nodded familiarly to janice, and said: "bad storm, miss. glad to see you. you ain't entirely a stranger here, eh?" "shut up, joe!" commanded mr. parraday, as janice flushed and the schoolmaster took a threatening step toward the bar. "oh, all right, boss," giggled the barkeeper. "what's yours, mister?" he asked nelson haley. a remarkable clap of thunder drowned nelson's reply. perhaps it was as well. and as the heavy roll of the report died away, they heard a series of shrieks somewhere in the upper part of the house. "what in good gracious is the matter now?" gasped lem parraday, hastening out of the barroom. again a blinding flash of light lit up the room for an instant. it played upon the fat features of joe bodley--pallidly upon the faces of his customers. some of them had shrunk away from the bar; some were ashamed to be seen there by janice and the schoolmaster. the thunder discharged another rolling report, shaking the house in its wrath. the rain beat down in torrents. janice and nelson could not leave the place while the storm was at its height, and for the moment, neither thought of going into the dining room. again and again the lightning flashed and the thunder broke above the tavern. it was almost as though the fury of the tempest was centered at the lake view inn. janice, frankly clinging to nelson's hand, cowered when the tempest rose to these extreme heights. echoing another peal of thunder once again a scream from within the house startled the girl. "oh, nelson! what's that?" "gee! i believe marm parraday's on the rampage," exclaimed joe bodley, with a silly smile on his face. the door from the hall flew open. in the dusky opening the woman's lean and masculine form looked wondrous tall; her hollow eyes burned with unnatural fire; her thin and trembling lips writhed pitifully. with her coming another awful flash and crash illumined the room and shook the roof tree of the inn. "it's come! it's come!" she said, advancing into the-room. her face shone in the pallid, flickering light of the intermittent flashes, and the loafers at the bar shrank away from her advance. "i told ye how 'twould be, lem parraday!" cried the tavern keeper's wife. "this is the end! this is the end!" another stroke of thunder rocked the house. marm parraday fell on her knees in the sawdust and raised her clasped hands wildly. the act loosened her stringy gray hair and it fell down upon her shoulders. a wilder looking creature janice day had never imagined. "almighty father!" burst from the quivering lips of the poor woman. "almighty father, help us!" "she's prayin'!" gasped a trembling voice back in the shrinking crowd. "help us and save us!" groaned the woman, her face and clasped hands uplifted. "we hear thy awful voice. we see the flash of thy anger. ah!" the thunder rolled again--ominously, suddenly, while the casements rattled from its vibrations. "_forgive lem and these other men for what they air doin', o lord!_" was the next phrase the startled spectators heard. "_they don't deserve thy forgiveness--but overlook 'em!_" the voice in the heavens answered again and drowned her supplication. one man screamed--a shrill, high neigh like that of a hurt horse. janice caught a momentary glimpse of the pallid face of joe bodley shrinking below the edge of the counter. there was no leer upon his fat face now; it expressed nothing but terror. lem parraday entered hastily. he caught his wife by her thin shoulders just as she pitched forward. "now, now, marm! this ain't no way to act," he said, soothingly. the thunder muttered in the distance. suddenly the flickering lightning seemed less threatening. as quickly as it had burst, the tempest passed away. "my jimminy! she's fainted," lem parraday murmured, lifting the woman in his strong arms. chapter xxviii the enemy retreats as the summer advanced visitors flocked to polktown. from the larger and better known tourist resorts on the new york side of the lake, small parties had ventured into polktown during the two previous seasons. now news of the out-of-the-way, old-fashioned hamlet had spread; and by the end of july the lake view inn was comfortably filled, and most people who were willing to take "city folks" to board had all the visitors they could take care of. "but i dunno's we're goin' to make much by havin' sech a crowd," lem parraday complained. "with marm sick nothin' seems ter go right. sech waste in the kitchen i never did see! an' if i say a word, or look skew-jawed at them women, they threaten ter up an' leave me in a bunch." for marm parraday, by dr. poole's orders, had been taken out into the country to her sister's, and told to stay there till cool weather came. "if you are bound to run a rum-hole, lem," said the plain-spoken doctor, "don't expect a woman in her condition to help you run it." lem thought it hard--and he looked for sympathy among his neighbors. he got what he was looking for, but of rather doubtful quality. "i cartainly do wish marm'd git well--or sumpin'," he said one day in walky dexter's hearing. "i don't see how a man's expected to run a _ho_-tel without a woman to help him. it beats me!" "it'll be _sumpin'_ that happens ter ye, i reckon," observed walky, drily. "sure as yeou air a fut high, lem. in the fall. beware the ides o' september, as the feller says. only mebbe i ain't got jest the month right. haw! haw! haw!" town meeting day was in september. the call had already been issued, and included in it was the amendment calling for no license in polktown--the new ordinance, if passed, to take immediate effect. the campaign for prohibition was continued despite the influx of summer visitors. indeed, because of them the battle against liquor selling grew hotter. not so many "city folks" as the hotel-keeper and his friends expected, desired to see a bar in the old-fashioned community. especially after the first pay day of the gang working on the branch of the v. c. road. when the night was made hideous and the main street of polktown dangerous for quiet people, by drink-inflamed fellows from the railroad construction camp, a strong protest was addressed to the town selectmen. there was a possibility of several well-to-do men building on the heights above the town, another season. uncle jason had a chance to sell his sheep-lot at such a price that his cupidity was fully aroused. but the buyer did not care to close the bargain if the town went "wet" in the fall. naturally mr. day's interest in prohibition increased mightily. the visiting young people would have liked to hold dances in lem parraday's big room at the inn. but gently bred girls did not care to go where liquor was sold; so the dancing parties of the better class were held in the odd fellows hall. the recurrent temperance meetings which had at first been held in the town house had to seek other quarters early in the campaign. mr. cross moore "lifted his finger" and the councilmen voted to allow the town hall to be used for no such purpose. however, warm weather having come, in a week the campaign committee obtained a big tent, set it up on the old circus grounds behind major price's place, somewhat curtailing the boys' baseball field, and the temperance meetings were held not only once a week, but thrice weekly. the tent meetings became vastly popular. when nelson haley, urged by the elder, made his first speech in the campaign, polktown awoke as never before to the fact that their schoolmaster had a gift of oratory not previously suspected. and, perhaps as much as anything, that speech raised public opinion to a height which could be no longer ignored by the school committee. there was an unveiled demand in the polktown column of the middletown courier that nelson haley should be appointed teacher of the graded school for the ensuing year. even mr. cross moore saw that the time had come for him and his comrades on the committee to back down completely from their position. it was the only thing that would save them from being voted out of office at the coming election--and perhaps that would happen anyway! before the summer was over the request, signed by the five committeemen, came to nelson that he take up his duties from which he had asked to be relieved in the spring. "it's a victory!" cried janice, happily. "oh, nelson! i'm _so_ glad." but there was an exceedingly bitter taste on nelson haley's lips. he shook his head and could not smile. the accusation against his character still stood. he had been accused of stealing the collection of coins, and he had never been able to disprove the charge. chapter xxix the truth at last daddy had not written for nearly two months. at least, no letter from him had reached janice. the day family in polktown had not gone into mourning in the spring and aunt 'mira gloried in a most astonishing plum-colored silk with "r'yal purple" trimmings. nevertheless, janice had now all but given up hope for her father's life. the uncertainty connected with his fate was very hard for the young girl to bear. she had the thought with her all the time--a picture in her mind of a man, blindfolded, his wrists fastened behind him, standing with his back against a sunburnt wall and a file of ragged, barefooted soldiers in front of him. in desperation she had written a letter addressed personally to "general juan dicampa," sending it to the same place to which she addressed her father's letters. she did this almost in fear of the consequences. who would read her letter now that the guerrilla chief was dead? in the appeal janice pleaded for her father's life and for news of him. days passed and there was no reply. but the letter, with her name and address on the outside, was not returned to her. broxton day's fate was discussed no more before janice at home. and other people who knew of her trouble, save nelson haley, soon forgot it. for the girl did not "wear her heart on her sleeve." as for the druggs--hopewell and his wife--they were so worried about little lottie's case that they had thought for nobody's troubles but their own. the doctors would not let the child return to polktown at present. they kept her all through the summer, watching her case. and lottie, at a summer school in boston, was enjoying herself hugely. she was not yet at an age to worry much about the future. these months of lottie's absence were weary ones indeed for her father. sometimes he wandered about the store quite distraught. 'rill was worried about him. he missed the solace of his violin and refused to purchase a cheap instrument to take the place of the one he had been obliged to sacrifice. "no, miss janice," he told the girl once, when she spoke of this. "i could not play another instrument. i am no musician. i was never trained. it was just a natural talent that i developed, because i found in my heart a love for the old violin my father had played so many years. "through its vibrant strings i expressed deeper feelings than i could ever express in any other way--or upon any other instrument. my lips would never have dared tell my love for 'rill," and he smiled in his gentle way, "half so boldly as my violin told it! ask her. she will tell you that my violin courted her--not hopewell drugg." "oh, it is too, too bad!" cried janice. "and that fellow down at lem parraday's hotel has never succeeded in disposing of the fiddle. i wish he would sell it back to you." "i could not buy it at the price he gave me for it," said hopewell, sadly shaking his head. "no use to think of it." but janice thought of it--and thought of it often. if daddy were only--only _successful_ again! that is the way she put it in her mind. if he could only send her some more money! there was many a thing janice day needed, or wanted. but she thought that she would deny herself much for the sake of recovering the violin for hopewell drugg. meanwhile nothing further had come to light regarding the missing collection of gold coins. no third coin had been put into circulation--in polktown, at least. the four school committeemen who were responsible for the collection had long since paid the owner out of their own pockets rather than be put to further expense in law. jim narnay's baby was growing weaker and weaker. the little thing had been upon the verge of passing on so many times, that her parents had grown skeptical of the doctor's prophecy--that she could not live out the summer. it seemed to janice, however, that the little body was frailer, the little face wanner, the tiny smile more pitiful, each time she went to pine cove to see the baby. nelson, who had come back to town and again taken up his abode with the overjoyed mrs. beaseley while he prepared for the opening of the school, urged janice not to go so often to the narnay cottage. "you've enough on your heart and mind, dear girl," he said to her. "why burden yourself with other people's troubles?" "why--do you know, nelson," she told him, thoughtfully, "that is one of the things i have learned of late." "what is one of the things you have learned?" "i have been learning, nelson, that the more we share other people's burdens the less weight our own assume. it's wonderful! when i am thinking of the poor little narnay baby, i am not thinking of daddy away down there in mexico. and when i am worrying about little lottie drugg--or even about hopewell's lost violin--i am not thinking about those awful gold coins and _who_ could have taken them----" "here! here, young woman!" exclaimed the schoolmaster, stopping short, and shaking his head at her. "_that's_ certainly not your personal trouble." "oh, but, nelson," she said shyly. "whatever troubles _you_ must trouble _me_ quite as though it were my really, truly own!" what nelson might have said, right there on hillside avenue, too--even what he might have _done_!--will never be known; for here marty suddenly appeared running wildly and shrieking at the top of his lungs for them to stop. "hi! hi! what's the matter wi' you folks?" he yelled, his face red, and his breath fairly gasping in his throat. "i been yellin' after ye all down high street. look what i found!" "looks like a newspaper, marty," said nelson, calmly. "_but what is in it?_" cried janice, turning pale. nelson seized the paper and held it open. he read rapidly: "'great battle fought southwest of chihuahua. federal forces thoroughly whipped. rebels led by the redoubtable general juan dicampa, whose reported death last spring was only a ruse to blind the eyes of the federals to his movements. at the head of a large force of regular troops and yaqui indians, dicampa fell upon the headquarters of general cesta, capturing or killing his entire command, and becoming possessed of quantities of munition and a great store of supplies. a telling blow that may bring about the secure establishment of a _de facto_ government in our ensanguined sister republic." "goodness me, janice! what do you think of that? there is a lot more of it, too." "then--if juan dicampa is not dead----" began the girl. "sure, uncle brocky ain't dead!" finished marty. "at least, dear girl," said nelson, sympathetically, "there is every reason to believe that what marty says is true." "oh, i can hope! i can hope again!" she murmured. "and, perhaps--who knows, nelson?--perhaps my own great trouble is going to melt away and be no more, just like last winter's snow! perhaps daddy is safe, and will come home." "i wish my difficulties promised as quick a solution, janice," said nelson, shaking his head. "but i am glad for you, my dear." marty ran ahead with the paper to spread the good news of uncle brocky's probable safety. janice and nelson were not destined to be left to their own devices for long, however. as they slowly mounted the pleasant and shady street there was the rattle of wheels behind them, and a masterful voice said: "whoa! that you, schoolmaster? how-do, janice." "dr. poole!" they cried, as one. "bad news for you, janice," said the red-faced doctor, in his brusk way. "know you're interested in that narnay youngster. i've just come from there. i've got to go half way to bristol to set a feller's leg. they telephoned me. before i could get there and back that narnay baby is going to be out of the reach of all my pills and powders." he did not say it harshly; it was dr. poole's way to be brusk. "oh, doctor! will it surely die?" "not two hours to live--positively," said the physician, gathering up the reins. "i'm sorry for jim. if the fellow is a drunkard, he is mighty tender-hearted when it comes to kids--and he's sober," he added, under his breath. "is he there?" asked janice, quickly. "no. hasn't been in town for two weeks. up in the woods somewhere. it will break him all up in business, i expect. i told you, for i didn't know but you'd want to go down and see the woman." "thank you, doctor," janice said, as the chaise rattled away. but she did not turn back down the hill. instead, she quickened her steps in the opposite direction. "well! i am glad for once you are not going to wear yourself out with other people's troubles," said nelson, looking sideways at her. "poor mr. narnay," said the girl. "i am going after him. he must see the baby before she dies." "janice!" "yes. the car is all ready, i know. it will take only half an hour to run up there where those men are at work. i took elder concannon over there once. the road isn't bad at all at this time of year." "do you mean you are going clear over the mountain after that drunken narnay?" demanded nelson, with some heat. "i am going after the baby's father, nelson," she replied softly. "you may go, too, if you are real good," and she smiled up at him so roguishly that his frown was dissipated and he had to smile in return. they reached the day house shortly and janice hurried in for her dust-coat and goggles. marty offered his own cap and "blinders," as he called them, to the schoolmaster. "you'll sure need 'em, mr. haley, if you go with janice, and she's drivin'. i b'lieve she said she was in a hurry," and he grinned as he opened the garage door and ran the kremlin out upon the gravel. the automobile moved out of the yard and took the steep hill easily. once on the upper road, janice urged the car on and they passed elder concannon's in a cloud of dust. the camp where the baby's father was at work was easily found. jim narnay seemed to know what the matter was, for he flung down the axe he was using and was first of the three at the side of the car when janice stopped. mr. trimmins sauntered up, too, but the sullen jack besmith seemed to shrink from approaching the visitors. "i will get you there if possible in time to see the baby once more, mr. narnay, if you will come right along as you are," said janice, commiseratingly, after explaining briefly their errand. "dr. poole told me the time was short." "go ahead, jim," said trimmins, giving the man's hand a grip. "miss day, you sartain sure are a good neighbor." janice turned the car as soon as narnay was in the tonneau. the man sat clinging with one hand to the rail and with the other over his face most of the way to town. speed had to be reduced when they turned into high street; but constable poley cantor turned his back on them as they swung around the corner into the street leading directly down to pine cove. janice left nelson in the car at the door, and ran into the cottage with the anxious father. mrs. narnay sat with the child on her lap, rocking herself slowly to and fro, and weeping. the children--even sophie--made a scared little group in the corner. the woman looked up and saw her husband. "oh, jim!" she said. "ain't it too bad? she--she didn't know you was comin'. she--she's jest died." janice was crying frankly when she came out of the house a few minutes afterward. nelson, seeing her tears, sprang out of the car and hastened up the ragged walk to meet her. "janice!" he exclaimed and put his arm around her shoulders, stooping a little to see into her face. "don't cry, child! is--is it dead?" janice nodded. jim narnay came to the door. his bloated, bearded face was working with emotion. he saw the tenderness with which nelson haley led the girl to the car. the heavy tread of the man sounded behind the young folk as nelson helped janice into the car, preparing himself to drive her home. "i say--i say, miss janice," stammered narnay. she wiped her eyes and turned quickly, in sympathy, to the broken man. "i will surely see mr. middler, mr. narnay. and tell your wife there will be a few flowers sent down--and some other things. i--i know you will remain and be--be helpful to her, mr. narnay?" "yes, i will, miss," said narnay. his bleared eyes gazed first on the young girl and then on haley. "i beg your pardon, miss," he added. "what is it, mr. narnay?" asked janice. "mebbe i'd better tell it ter schoolmaster," said the man, his lips working. he drew the back of his hand across them to hide their quivering. "i know something mebbe mr. haley would like to hear." "what is it, narnay?" asked nelson, kindly. "i--i----i hear folks says ye stole them gold coins out of the schoolhouse." nelson looked startled, but janice almost sprang out of her seat. "oh, jim narnay!" she cried, "can you clear mr. haley? do you know who did it?" "i see you--you and schoolmaster air fond of each other," said the man. "i never before went back on a pal; but you've been mighty good to me an' mine, miss janice, and--and i'm goin' to tell." nelson could not speak. janice, however, wanted to cry aloud in her delight. "i knew you could explain it all, mr. narnay, but i didn't know that you _would_," she said. "you knowed i could tell it?" demanded the startled narnay. "ever since that five dollar gold piece rolled out of your pocket--yes," she said, and no more to narnay's amazement than to nelson's, for she had told the schoolmaster nothing about that incident. "my mercy, miss! did _you_ git that five dollar coin?" demanded narnay. "yes. right here on your porch. the sunday you were at home." "and i thought i'd lost it. i didn't take the whiskey back to the boys, and jack's been sayin' all the time i double-crossed him. says i must ha' spent the money for booze and drunk it meself. and mebbe i would of--if i hadn't lost the five," admitted narnay, wagging his head. "but i don't understand," broke in nelson haley. janice touched his arm warningly. "but you didn't lose the ten dollar coin he gave you before that to change at lem parraday's, mr. narnay?" she said slyly. "i guess ye do know about it," said the man, eyeing janice curiously. "i can't tell you much, i guess. only, you air wrong about me passin' the first coin. jack did that himself--and brought back to camp a two gallon jug of liquor." "_jack besmith!_" gasped the school teacher, the light dawning in his mind. "yes," said narnay. "me and trimmins has knowed it for a long time. we wormed it out o' jack when he was drunk. but he was putting up for the stuff right along, so we didn't tell. he's got most of the money hid away somewhere--we don't know where. "he told us he saw the stuff up at massey's the night before he stole it. he went there to try to get his job back, and seen massey puttin' the trays of coin into his safe. he knowed they was goin' down to the schoolhouse in the mornin'. "he got drunk," pursued narnay. "he didn't go home all night. early in the mornin' he woke up in a shed, and went back to town. it was so early that little benny thread (that's jack's brother-in-law) was just goin' into the basement door of the schoolhouse to 'tend to his fire. "jack says he slipped in behind him and hid upstairs in a clothes closet. he thought he'd maybe break open the teacher's desk and see if there wasn't some money in it, if he didn't git a chance at them coins. but that was too easy. the committee left the coins right out open in the committee room, and jack grabbed up the trays, took 'em to the clothes room, and emptied them into the linin' of his coat, and into his pants' pockets. they was a load! "so, after the teacher come into the buildin' and went out again, jack put back the trays, slipped downstairs, dodged benny and the four others, and went out at the basement door. benny's always swore that door was locked; but it's only a spring lock and easy enough opened from inside. "that--that's all, i guess," added narnay, in a shamefaced way. "jack backed that load of gold coin clean out to our camp. and he hid 'em all b'fore we ever suspected he had money. we don't know now where his _cache_ is----" "oh, nelson!" burst out janice, seizing both the schoolmaster's hands. "the truth at last!" "ye--ye've been so good to us, miss janice," blubbered narnay, "i couldn't bear to see the young man in trouble no longer--and you thinkin' as much as you do of him----" "if i have done anything at all for you or yours, mr. narnay," sobbed janice, "you have more than repaid me--over and over again you have repaid me! do stay here with your wife and the children. i am going to send mr. middler right down. let's drive on, nelson." the teacher started the car. "and to think," he said softly when the kremlin had climbed the hill and struck smoother going, "that i have been opposed to your doing anything for these narnays all the time, janice. yet because _you_ were kind, _i_ am saved! it--it is wonderful!" "oh, no, nelson. it is only what might have been expected," said janice, softly. chapter xxx marm parraday does her duty it was on the day following the burial of the narnay baby that the mystery surrounding mr. broxton day's situation in mexico was quite cleared up, and much to his daughter's satisfaction. quite a packet of letters arrived for janice--several delayed epistles, indeed, coming in a single wrapper. with them was a letter in the exact script of juan dicampa--that mysterious brigand chief who was mr. day's friend--and couched in much the same flowery phraseology as the former note janice had received. it read: "señorita:-- "i fain would beg thy pardon--and that most humbly--for my seeming slight of thy appeal, which reached my headquarters when your humble servant was busily engaged elsewhere. thy father, the senior b. day, is safe. he has never for a moment been in danger. the embargo is now lifted and he may write to thee, sweet señorita, as he may please. the enemy has been driven from this fair section of my troubled land, and the smile of peace rests upon us as it rests upon you, dear señorita. adios. "faithfully thine, "juan dicampa." "such a strangely boyish letter to come from a bloodthirsty bandit--for such they say he is. and he is father's friend," sighed janice, showing the letter to nelson saley. "oh, dear! i wish daddy would leave that hateful old mine and come home." nevertheless, daddy's return--or his abandonment of the mine--did not appear imminent. good news indeed was in mr. broxton day's most recent letters. the way to the border for ore trains was again open. for six weeks he had had a large force of peons at work in the mine and a great amount of ore had been shipped. there was in the letter a certificate of deposit for several hundred dollars, and the promise of more in the near future. "you must be pretty short of feminine furbelows by this time. be good to yourself, janice," wrote mr. day. but his daughter, though possessing her share of feminine vanity in dress, saw first another use for a part of this unexpected windfall. she said nothing to a soul but walky dexter, however. it was to be a secret between them. there was so much going on in polktown just then that walky could keep a secret, as he confessed himself, "without half trying." "nelson haley openin' aour school and takin' up the good work ag'in where he laid it daown, is suthin' that oughter be noted a-plenty," declared mr. dexter. "and i will say for 'em, that committee reinstated him before anybody heard anythin' abeout jack besmith havin' stole the gold coins. "sure enough!" went on walky, "that's another thing that kin honestly be laid to lem parraday's openin' that bar at the inn. that's where jack got the liquor that twisted his brain, that led him astray, that made him a thief---- jefers-pelters! sounds jest like 'the haouse that jack built,' don't it? but poor jack besmith has sartainly built him a purty poor haouse. and there's steel bars at the winders of it--poor feller!" however, it was nelson haley himself who used the story of jack besmith most tellingly, and for the cause of temperance. as the young fellow had owned to the crime when taxed with it, and had returned most of the coins of the collection, he was recommended to the mercy of the court. but all of polktown knew of the lad's shame. therefore, nelson haley felt free to take the incident--and nobody had been more vitally interested in it than himself--for the text of a speech that he made in the big tent only a week or so before town meeting day. nelson stood up before the audience and told the story simply--told of the robbery and of how he had felt when he was accused of it, sketching his own agony and shame while for weeks and months he had not been under suspicion. "i did not believe the bad influence of liquor selling could touch _me_, because i had nothing to do with _it_," he said. "but i have seen the folly of that opinion." he pointed out, too, the present remorse and punishment of young jack besmith. then he told them frankly that the blame for all--for jack's misdeed, his own suffering, and the criminal's final situation--lay upon the consciences of the men who had made liquor selling in polktown possible. it was an arraignment that stung. those deeply interested in the cause of prohibition cheered nelson to the echo. but one man who sat well back in the audience, his hat pulled over his eyes, and apparently an uninterested listener, slipped out after nelson's talk and walked and fought his conscience the greater part of that night. somehow the school teacher's talk--or was it janice day's scorn?--had touched mr. cross moore in a vulnerable part. had the summer visitors to polktown been voters, there would have been little doubt of the town meeting voting the hamlet "dry." but there seemed to be a large number of men determined not to have their liberties, so-called, interfered with. lem parraday's bar had become a noisy place. some fights had occurred in the horse sheds, too. and on the nights the railroad construction gang came over to spend their pay, the village had to have extra police protection. frank bowman was doing his best with his men; but they were a rough set and he had hard work to control them. the engineer was a never-failing help in the temperance meetings, and nobody was more joyful over the clearing up of nelson haley's affairs than he. "you have done some big things these past few months, janice day," he said with emphasis. "nonsense, frank! no more than other people," she declared. "well, i guess you have," he proclaimed, with twinkling eyes, "just think! you've brought out the truth about that lost coin collection; you've saved hopewell drugg from becoming a regular reprobate--at least, so says his mother-in-law; you've converted walky dexter from his habit of taking a 'snifter'----" "oh, no!" laughed janice. "josephus converted walky." save at times when he had to deliver freight or express to the hotel, the village expressman had very little business to take him near lem parraday's bar nowadays. however, because of that secret between janice and himself, walky approached the inn one evening with the avowed purpose of speaking to joe bodley. marm parraday had returned home that very day--and she had returned a different woman from what she was when she went away. the inn was already being conducted on a winter basis, for most of the summer boarders had flitted. there were few patrons now save those who hung around the bar. walky, entering by the front door instead of the side entrance, came upon lem and his wife standing in the hall. marm parraday still had her bonnet on. she was grimly in earnest as she talked to lem--so much in earnest, indeed, that she never noticed the expressman's greeting. "that's what i've come home for, lem parraday--and ye might's well know it. i'm a-goin' ter do my duty--what i knowed i should have done in the fust place. you an' me have worked hard here, i reckon. but you ain't worked a mite harder nor me; and you ain't made the inn what it is no more than i have." "not so much, marm--not so much," admitted her husband evidently anxious to placate her, for marm parraday was her old forceful self again. "i'd never oughter let rum sellin' be begun here; an' now i'm a-goin' ter end it!" "my mercy, marm! 'cordin' ter the way folks talk, it's goin' to be ended, anyway, when they vote on town meeting day," said lem, nervously. "i ain't dared renew my stock for fear the 'drys' might git it----" "lem parraday--ye poor, miser'ble worm!" exclaimed his wife. "be you goin' ter wait till yer neighbors put ye out of a bad business, an' then try ter take credit ter yerself that ye gin it up? wal, _i_ ain't!" cried the wife, with energy. "we're goin' aout o' business right now! i ain't in no prayin' mood terday--though i thank the good lord he's shown me my duty an' has give me stren'th ter do it!" on the wall, in a "fire protection" frame, was coiled a length of hose, with a red painted pail and an axe. marm turned to this and snatched down the axe from its hooks. "why, marm!" exploded lem, trying to get in front of her. "stand out o' my way, lem parraday!" she commanded, with firm voice and unfaltering mien. "yeou air crazy!" shrieked the tavern keeper, dancing between her and the barroom door. "not as crazy as i was," she returned grimly. she thrust him aside as though he were a child and strode into the barroom. her appearance offered quite as much excitement to the loafers on this occasion as it had the day of the tempest. only they shrank from her with good reason now, as she flourished the axe. "git aout of here, the hull on ye!" ordered the stern woman. "ye have had the last drink in this place as long as lem parraday and me keeps it. git aout!" she started around behind the bar. joe bodley, smiling cheerfully, advanced to meet her. "now, marm! you know this ain't no way to act," he said soothingly. "this ain't no place for ladies, anyway. women's place is in the home. this here----" "scat! ye little rat!" snapped marm, and made a swing at him--or so he thought--that made joe dance back in sudden fright. "hey! take her off, lem parraday! _the woman's mad!_" "you bet i'm mad!" rejoined marm parraday, grimly, and _smash!_ the axe went among the bottles on the shelf behind the bar. every bottle containing anything to drink was a target for the swinging axe. joe jumped the bar, yelling wildly. he was the first out of the barroom, but most of the customers were close at his heels. "marm! yeou air ruinin' of us!" yelled lem. "i'm a-savin' of us from the wrath to come!" returned the woman, sternly, and swung her axe again. the spigot flew from the whiskey barrel in the corner and the next blow of the axe knocked in the head of the barrel. the acrid smell of liquor filled the place. not a bottle of liquor was left. the barroom of the lake view inn promised to be the driest place in town. up went the axe again. lem yelled loud enough to be heard a block: "not that barrel, marm! for the good land o' goshen! don't bust in _that_ barrel." "why not?" demanded his breathless wife, the axe poised for the stroke. "cause it's merlasses! if ye bust thet in, ye will hev a mess here, an' no mistake." "jefers-pelters!" chuckled walky dexter, telling of it afterward, "i come away then an' left 'em erlone. but you kin take it from me--marm parraday is quite in her us'al form. doc. poole's a wonderful doctor--ain't he? "but," pursued walky, "i had a notion that old fiddle of hopewell's would be safer outside than it was in marm parraday's way, an' i tuk it down 'fore i fled the scene of de-vas-ta-tion! haw! haw! haw! "i run inter joe bodley on the outside. 'joe,' says i, 'i reskered part of your belongin's. it looks ter me as though yeou'll hev time an' to spare to take this fiddle to the city an' raffle it off. but 'fore ye do that, what'll ye take for the fiddle--lowest cash price?' "'jest what it cost me, walky,' says joe. 'one hundred dollars.' "'no, joe; it didn't cost ye that,' says i. 'i mean what _yeou_ put into it yerself. that other feller that backed out'n his bargain put in some. how much?' "wal," pursued the expressman, "he hummed and hawed, but fin'ly he admitted that he was out only fifty dollars. 'here's yer fifty, joe,' says i. 'hopewell wants his fiddle back.' "i reckon joe needed the money to git him out o' taown. he can take a hint as quick as the next feller--when a ton of coal falls on him! haw! haw! haw! he seen his usefulness in polktown was kind o' passed. so he took the fifty, an' here's the vi'lin, janice day. i reckon ye paid abeout forty-seven-fifty too much for it; but ye told me ter git it at _any_ price." to hopewell and 'rill, janice, when she presented the storekeeper with his precious fiddle, revealed a secret that she had _not_ entrusted to walky dexter. by throwing the strong ray of an electric torch into the slot of the instrument she revealed to their wondering eyes a peculiar mark stamped in the wood of the back of it. "that, mr. drugg," the girl told him, quietly, "is a mark to be found only in violins manufactured by the amati family. the date of the manufacture of this instrument i do not know; but it is a genuine cremona, i believe. at least, i would not sell it again, if i were you, without having it appraised first by an expert." "oh, my dear girl!" cried 'rill, with streaming eyes, "hopewell won't ever sell it again. i won't let him. and we've got the joyfulest news, janice! you have doubled our joy to-day. but already we have had a letter from boston which says that our little lottie is in better health than ever and that the peril of blindness is quite dissipated. she is coming home to us again in a short time." "joyful things," as janice said, were happening in quick rotation nowadays. with the permanent closing of the lake view inn bar, several of the habitués of the barroom began to straighten up. jim narnay had really been fighting his besetting sin since the baby's death. he had found work in town and was taking his wages home to his wife. trimmins was working steadily for elder concannon. and being so far away from any place where liquor was dispensed, he was doing very well. really, with the abrupt closing of the bar, the cause of the "wets" in polktown rather broke down. they had no rallying point, and, as walky said, "munitions of war was mighty scurce." "a feller can't re'lly have the heart ter _vote_ for whiskey 'nless ther's whiskey in him," said walky, at the close of the voting on town meeting day. "how about that, cross moore? we dry fellers have walked over ye in great shape--ain't that so?" "i admit you have carried' the day, walky," said the selectman, grimly. "he! he! i sh'd say we had! purty near two ter one. wal! i thought ye said once that no man in polktown could best ye--if ye put yer mind to it?" cross moore chewed his straw reflectively. "i don't consider i have been beaten by a man," he said. "no? jefers-pelters! what d'ye call it?" blustered walky. "i reckon i've been beaten by a girl--and an idea," said mr. cross moore. "wal," sighed aunt 'mira, comfortably, rocking creakingly on the front porch of the old day house in the glow of sunset, "polktown does seem rejoovenated, jest like mr. middler preached last sunday, since rum sellin' has gone out. and it was a sight for sore eyes ter see marm parraday come ter church ag'in--an' that poor, miser'ble lem taggin' after her." janice laughed, happily. "i know that there can be nobody in town as glad that the vote went 'no license' as the parradays." "ya-as," agreed aunt 'mira, rather absently. "did ye notice marm's new bonnet? it looked right smart to me. i'm a-goin' ter have miz lynch make me one like it." "say, janice! want anything down town?" asked marty coming out of the house and starting through the yard. "it doesn't seem to me as though i really wanted but one thing in all this big, beautiful world!" said his cousin, with longing in her voice. "what's that, child?" asked her aunt. "i want daddy to come home." marty went off whistling. aunt 'mira rocked a while, "ya-as," she finally said, "if broxton day would only let them mexicaners alone an' come up here to polktown----" janice suddenly started from her chair; her cheeks flushed and her eyes sparkled. "oh! here he is!" she murmured. "here _who_ is? who d'ye mean, janice day? _not yer father?_" gasped aunt 'mira, staring with near-sighted eyes down the shadowy path. janice smiled. "it's nelson," she said softly, her gaze upon the manly figure mounting the hill. [illustration: to the girls' surprise they heard an exclamation.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ the secret of steeple rocks by harriet pyne grove [illustration] the saalfield publishing company akron, ohio :: new york ------------------------------------------------------------------------ copyright mcmxxviii the saalfield publishing company the secret of steeple rocks _made in the united states of america_ ------------------------------------------------------------------------ the secret of steeple rocks chapter i steeple rocks "are you satisfied, beth?" elizabeth secrest turned with a smile to the two girls who had come up behind her, their footfalls silent in the sand. "the world is mine," she answered, with a comprehensive sweep of her arm and hand toward the foaming surf which was almost at their feet. "doesn't it _fill_ you, some way?" "yes, beth; i'm not myself at all. here,--take these and look at those towering rocks with them." sarita moore handed her fine glasses, all shining and new, to the older girl, who directed them toward a distant pile of rocks. there two rose high, irregularly decreasing in circumference, and at this distance apparently pointed at their tops. below them massed the other rocks of the dark headland. elizabeth looked long and steadily. "steeple rocks!" she murmured. "i wish that i owned them! but i would give them a better name. i'd call them cathedral rocks. doesn't the whole mass make you think of the cathedrals,--the cathedrals that you and i are going to see some day, leslie?" the third girl of the group now took the glasses which her sister offered. "sometimes, beth, i can't follow the lines of your imagination; but it doesn't take much this time to make a cathedral out of that. _are_ you happy, beth?" there was a tone of anxiety in the question. "yes, child. who could help being happy here? look at that ocean, stretching out and away--into eternity, i think,--and the clouds--and the pounding of the surf. think, girls! it's going to put us to sleep to-night!" "unless it keeps us awake," suggested leslie, "but i'm all lifted out of myself, too, beth. imagine being here all summer! look at dal, sarita." leslie pointed toward a masculine figure standing on the beach not far in advance of them. "it's 'what are the wild waves saying?' to dal all right!" dalton secrest, who had preceded his two sisters and their friend in their visit to the beach and the tossing waves, stood facing the sea, his hands in his pockets, his tall young body straight before the strong breeze. he heard the girls' voices above the noise of the surf, as they came more closely behind him, and turned with a smile as his sister had done. [illustration: map of steeple rocks] "what great thoughts are you thinking dal?" sarita queried. "sorry that i can't claim any just this minute, sarita. i was thinking about what fish there are in the sea for me. when i'm not building the shack i'm going to fish, girls, and i was wondering if the bay wouldn't be the best place for that." "of course it would, dal," leslie replied, "but you can easily find out where the fishermen get their fish. i thought at first that i should never want to eat. it is almost enough to look. but now,--'i dunno,' as the song goes!" "we'd better be getting back to the tents," said dalton. "beth looks as if she had not had enough, but i'll have to gather some wood for a fire and by the time we have our supper it will be dark. we can watch the sunset just as well from above." with this, dalton secrest linked arms with the girls, and with one on each side of him ran as rapidly as sand would permit to where elizabeth had found a seat upon a rock back of the sands. "come on, beth. time for eats. les and sairey gamp are going to do the cooking while you sit out on the point with your little pencil to sketch." "don't you call me 'sairey gamp,' dal secrest," laughed sarita. "never you mind, sairey, you can get it back on me. if i have any time left from building, fishing and bringing home the bacon, i shall be the wild pirate of pirates' cove!" "listen to dal!" cried leslie. "you'd think that he had to support the family! but i will admit, dal, that if 'bacon' is fish, it will certainly help out expenses." dalton fell back with his older sister, beth, while the two others went on, all directing their way to a spot some distance ahead, where the climb to the upper level was not difficult. all four were exhilarated by the new scenes, the beauty and almost mystery of the sea, the beach, the rocks and crags, and the invitation of the singing pines where their tents were pitched. as anyone might surmise, their arrival was recent. sensibly they had pitched their tents first, while dalton could have the assistance of the man who drove them there; but after the necessary things were accomplished they hastened to get as close to the sea as possible, for none of them had ever seen it before. it was one of the interesting spots on the much indented coast of maine. there were an obscure little fishing village, a bay, into which a few small streams emptied, and a stretch of real coast, washed by the ocean itself. it was this beach which the newcomers had just visited with such pleasure, at a place varying in its outlines, from curving sands washed by a restless sea to high rocks and half-submerged boulders, where the water boiled and tossed. as the summer visitors climbed the ascent, they noticed that in the village at their left most of the fishers' cottages lay within easy reach of the beach proper, from which the launching of boats was easy. there was a dock, stout, but small. it was quite evident that no large vessels came in. the bay lay in the direction of steeple rocks, but the climb to reach it would have been impossible from the beach. this was blocked by the high cliff whose rocks reached out into the waves and curved around into one side of the bay's enclosure, though gradually lowering in height. much farther away, around the curving, rocky, inland shore of the bay, and across its quiet waters from this cliff, loomed the other more bulging headland which reminded beth of a cathedral in some of its outlines. but beth was an artist, and an artist had not named steeple rocks. dalton helped elizabeth while the other girls scrambled up to the path by themselves. "i do hate to play the invalid, dal," breathlessly said beth, clutching her brother's arm. "what _is_ the matter with me, anyhow?" "nothing in the world, doc said, but being just played out. what do you expect? you can't do a million things and teach school, for fun, of course, on the side, and feel as frisky as a rabbit at the end of the year. just wait, old girl. we had to let you help us get ready to come, but about two weeks of doing nothing and sleeping in this air,--well, you will probably be able to help _me_ up the rocks!" leslie, meanwhile, was explaining to her chum sarita how their property included the smaller headland and its rocks. "there is right of way, of course, but this is ours." the girls were standing by this time high on the rocks, from which they could look down and back, along the beach where they had been. at this place the point ran out to its curving, jutting, broken but solid rampart which kept the sea from the bay. below them a few boats dotted the surface of the bay. sarita through her glass was watching a vessel which was passing far out on the ocean. "how did it happen, leslie, that you never came here?" sarita asked. "you see, father had just bought it the summer before he died. he had been up in canada and then down on the coast of maine. he came home to tell us of the place he had bought at a great bargain, where we had an ocean view, a bay to fish in, and a tiny lake of our own. then came all our troubles and we had almost forgotten about it, except to count it among our assets, pay tax on it and wish that we could raise some money on it. but nobody wanted a place that had no good roads for an automobile and was not right on the railroad, though, for that matter, i don't think it's so terribly far." "yes, it is, les, for anybody that wants to be in touch with civilization, but who wants to be for the summer?" "well, as we told you when beth said i could ask you to come along, it is just what we want to camp in, and there are people near enough for safety, besides the 'emporium' of modern trade in the village, if that is what one can call this scattered lot of cottages." "it is more picturesque, beth says, just as it is, and most of the summer cottages are on the other side of the village, or beyond the steeple rocks, in the other direction, so we'll not be bothered with anybody unless we want to be. i like folks, myself, but when you camp you want to camp, and beth is so tired of kiddies that she says she doesn't want to see anybody under fifteen for the whole three months!" sarita laughed at this. "she seemed jolly enough on the way." "oh, beth is jolly and perfectly happy to come; but we did not have any idea how worn out she was, simply doing too much and so afraid _we'd_ have too much to do to get our lessons. why, when dal and i waked up to the fact that elizabeth was almost a _goner_, we were scared to pieces. she couldn't get up one morning after commencement was over,--but you remember about that and how we sent for the doctor in a hurry. my, what a relief when he said that it was just overdoing and that she was to stay in bed and sleep, and eat anything she wanted to!" "she told me how you wanted to feed her every half hour." "yes," laughed leslie, "and i tried all the good recipes in the cook book, almost." but the girls walked out on the point a little distance, then returned, while leslie, from her memory of her father's plan, pointed out the place behind a windbreak of rocks where elizabeth thought he intended to build the "eyrie." strolling back from the point, across an open space partly grown with straggling weeds and grass, the girls entered the pine woods, which was the thing of beauty upon the secrest land. there beth was seated upon a box, watching dalton build a fire. "ever and anon that lad shakes a finger at me, girls, to keep me from doing anything," beth said, in explanation of her idleness. "good for dal," said leslie. "sarita and i are the chief cooks and bottle-washers around here. just sit there, beth, and tell us what to do, if we can't think of it ourselves. i see that you brought water, dal. shall we boil it before drinking?" "no; this is from the prettiest spring you ever saw. i opened some boxes and set up the tables, so you can go ahead. i'm going to get a supply of wood handy. we'll fix up our portable stove to-morrow, but i want to have it in good shape, and then i thought that you girls would like a camp fire to-night." "oh, we do!" cried leslie and sarita almost with one voice. "we'll have hot wieners and open a can of beans. they'll heat in a minute. dal, that is a fine arrangement, fixing those stones for us to rest our pan on." it was leslie who finished these remarks, as she and sarita busied themselves with the work of supper and dalton went back into the woods again for more wood. they heard the sound of his hatchet as they put a cloth on the little folding table and set it in a convenient place outside of the tent. "the table will make a good buffet, but i want to take my plate and sit on the pine needles." "you will be obliged to, for want of chairs at present," said elizabeth, jumping up and insisting on being allowed to help. what a new atmosphere it was! here they were, off in the "wilds" and their own wilds at that, with all sorts of happy experiences before them. dalton, whistling a popular song went about hither and yon, gathering a supply of wood, lopping off undesirable portions of old limbs here and there. looking up at a sound, he was surprised to see a rough-looking man approaching him. he was ill-featured, dark, grim, and of stalwart build. dalton, rather glad of his hatchet, stood his ground, waiting to be addressed. "what are you folks doing here?" the man demanded. "this is our land, sir," replied dalton, "and we have just come to camp here for the summer." he felt like adding, "any objections?" but thought that he would not be the one to start any trouble by impertinence. he did not like the man's tone, however. "how do we know that you own this land? i'd not heard of its being sold." "it can easily be proved. our name is secrest. my father bought this several years ago." "is your father here?" "well, excuse me, sir, would you prefer to ask your questions of my father? are you the mayor of the village?" "no; but any of us have a right to know what strangers are going to do." "perhaps you have, sir," said dalton, in a more friendly way, "but it's a free country, you know, and we own this piece of ground. i'm expecting to camp here all summer, and to build a more permanent home, or start one, for our summers here." the man nodded. "well, if that is so, and if you mind your own business, you may like it. but it ain't healthy around here for snoopers, nor folks that are too cur'ous. that's all." the man stalked away, tying more tightly a red handkerchief around his neck, and hitching up the collar of his rough coat. the ocean breeze was growing a little chilly. but a thought occurred to dalton and he spoke again to the man. "wait a moment, please. how about these woods and the places around here,--are they safe for my sisters and our friend?" "yes, safe enough. it's too far from the railroad for tramps and thieves and there ain't no good roads for the fellers with cars. the folks over at steeple rocks growl about that." "we have neighbors over in that direction, then?" "so you didn't _know_ that. h'm. you don't know much about this place, if your father did buy it." "no. none of us were ever here before." "and your father's dead." dalton looked up surprised at that, for he had purposely avoided answering that question about his father. the man grinned a little. "i reckon a kid like you wouldn't be talkin' about buildin' a cabin himself if he had a father. have you got a boat?" "no, but we're going to have one." "remember what i said, then, about minding your own affairs." having no good reply to this, which dalton resented, he curbed his rising anger at this rude acquaintance and watched him stride in the direction of the road, which wound through the woods some distance away. "well, your room is far better than your company," thought dalton, as he picked up his sticks, making a load of them. he wondered whether this were one of the fishermen or not. he did not have the same speech as that of the other new englanders whom they had recently met. the man who had brought their goods from the station had been most friendly, answering their questions and volunteering all kinds of interesting information about the country. it was odd that he had not mentioned the people at steeple rocks, but it had so happened. with such thoughts, dalton went through the woods, whose wonderful pines had so delighted them, and finally joined the girls, arranging his firewood at a convenient distance. leslie found little things for dalton to do and supper was hurried up. the table was used for buttering bread and fixing sandwiches; then each with a loaded plate sought a place around the fire, which dalton heaped with firewood till it blazed as hotly as was safe. there was some scrambling around when the wind veered and blew the smoke in the wrong direction, but the camp was more or less protected from the direct breeze. happy and hungry, the campers disposed of a good meal in the midst of considerable fun and joking. long acquaintance had made sarita like a member of the family. she and leslie recounted amusing incidents of their school year just ended, or consulted dalton about their plans for the camp and the eyrie. elizabeth woke to something like her old fire and announced that she intended to go back to "sweet sixteen" and play with the rest of them. "oh, beth, bob your hair, then!" urged leslie, running her fingers through her own curly brown mop. "not much she doesn't!" dalton objected. "i can't imagine beth without her piles of pretty hair. who was that beau, beth, that wrote about your 'waves of burnished gold'?" beth laughed. "i was very mad, then, when you infants discovered that poem." "beth's hair is just a little too dark to be called 'golden,'" reflectively said sarita. "you might braid it and wear it over your shoulders, indian fashion." "it would be in my way, my dear." "bob it, beth!" again said leslie. "dalton is just like the rest of the men about a girl's hair. think how fine it will be not to have so much to dry when you go in swimming." "don't you weaken, beth," spoke dalton, eating his last sandwich. "think of the 'artistic miss secrest' without her 'wonderful hair.'" "come now, folks, it's my hair. i'm not doing anything at all about it, and what a waste of time and opportunity to discuss such a subject here! come on, girls, we must fix up the beds. dal, please help us with the cots, and did you think what a fine dresser that big box will make, girls? it has a division in it, you remember. we'll set it on end, put a cover on it over some paper, tack a curtain across, and there will be our dressing table, with a big shelf behind the curtain. i'm wasted in the schoolroom, sarita. i ought to be an interior decorator. to-morrow some of those pretty spruce limbs will make a fine background for our mirror!" "beth! did you honestly _buy_ that mirror in the store by the station? dal, it's the funniest thing you ever saw and we look crooked in it. beth must have liked it because it makes her look fat!" springing up, the party of four piled their plates and cups on the table, where sarita busied herself in repacking the food in its containers and the others went into the larger tent. there trunks and boxes had been left in confusion. in a short time dalton had the three cots up and took another to his own tent, which stood opposite the larger one. leslie had suggested the arrangement, insisting that they must live on an "avenue." elizabeth and leslie were now drawing both woolen and cotton blankets from a big trunk of supplies, together with four warm bathrobes. sarita came in just in time to seize upon hers with an exclamation of welcome. "we'll probably want to sleep in 'em," she said, with an exaggerated shiver, putting on the garment over her sweater while leslie laughed at her. trunks were pulled around into place, boxes piled out of the way, flashlights and the convenient bags or cases, with which they had traveled, found and placed by their owners' cots. on the rude dresser, to be made more attractive in the future, a candlestick, candle and a box of matches stood ready if needed, "and if anybody lights the candle, let him beware of burning up the place!" warned beth. "her, not 'him,' beth," corrected leslie. "the only 'him' has a tent of his own. i'm going to see, too, that dal has enough blankets on his bed and everything. no, keep out, beth. don't worry; i'll think of just exactly what we have that he must have, too. say, what did we do with those towels? thanks. dal is grand to do things for us, but when it comes to fixing up himself,--" leslie ran across the boulevard, which sarita now called the space between the tents, and the girls smiled as they heard her arguing with dalton about something. "listen, dal! it gets _cold_ up here. i've known girls that camped in maine. i know that you're hot-blooded and all that. i'll just tuck these blankets in at the foot, and i know that you'll want to draw them up by morning." some bass murmur came from her brother and then the girls heard leslie's more carrying voice. "no, i'll brace them back on this box and _then_ they won't be too heavy on your feet. well, have it your own way, then, but if you _freeze_, i'll not be responsible!" leslie was grinning herself, when she came into the girls' tent and saw sarita shaking with laughter, as she sat on the edge of her cot undressing. "we'' couldn't help hear, les!" she said. "the boulevard should be wider. what was it beside the blanket discussion?" "the last thing he said to me was 'can't you let a guy go to bed?'--but he was laughing and lifted the flap of the tent for me with a most ridiculous bow. dal's the funniest thing!" "all the same i'd be scared to death, going to bed away off here, if it wasn't for dal across there." "i imagine that i would be, too, though beth and i have gotten used to taking care of ourselves. now you in bed first, beth. you must get out of the way of 'going over the house' to see if everything is all right. i _will_ boss _somebody_!" "you can boss _me_ all you please, leslie. you may even tuck me into bed," said beth, looking so sweet with her long, light braids, that leslie walked right over, turned back the blankets on beth's cot, almost lifted the slight figure into place, tucked her in snugly and kissed her soundly. the first day in camp was over. dalton had purposely said nothing about the man of the woods. he would mention it to leslie and sarita in the morning, but on the whole he expected no trouble. the fishermen reached the bay, as a rule, from the ocean itself, rather than from the high cliffs. there was little to bring anyone in that direction, except possibly someone of their neighbors from steeple rocks. his question to the man had been more to test his purposes, than for information, and dalton was sorry that he had not mentioned the target practice which he had induced the girls to take up more as a safe means of defence than as a sport, though he had not told them that. but dalton secrest was of no timid sort. this was a new adventure and promised much. what it was to include he did not yet know. there were to be some moments not exactly "healthy," as the man had warned, though dalton himself was not responsible for unraveling the mystery of steeple rocks. chapter ii peggy descends elizabeth, dalton and leslie secrest were intelligent young people of some culture and background, though that impression might not always be given when dalton or leslie fell into the modern school vernacular. elizabeth, two years out of college, was more careful, inasmuch as she was teaching drawing and other lines of school art to children and was also the head of their little family. it had all happened very suddenly, the death of the parents and the plunge into partial self-support. interest from the invested life insurance furnished part of their income, and what elizabeth called her "munificent salary" the rest. dalton earned enough outside of school hours to help considerably. elizabeth had insisted that he must finish high school and now thought that he should take enough of their principal to see him through college. this was a subject of argument between them, for dalton considered that out of the question. he had just been graduated from high school and had prevailed upon his sister to take the money for this adventure, particularly with the purpose of finding out how valuable the property was for a possible sale. plans were all a little vague, but when the doctor ordered beth somewhere for change and rest, leslie and dalton executed the whole affair, with beth's advice and assistance. enthusiasm had grown when they came upon a letter outlining their father's plans for building what he called the "eyrie" and now that they were here, seeing upon the spot their few but beautiful acres, and the limitless sea by which they lay, values went up, mentally at least. beth of the "burnished locks," was not beautiful, but her golden-brown hair crowned a delicate face with fairly regular features, steady blue eyes, dreamy when they had a chance to dream, and a sensitive mouth. she was slight and of medium height, twenty-three at her next birthday. dalton, eighteen on the day of his graduation, was most fortunately a tall, strong lad, with a very practical turn. vocational training had fostered this and young as he was, dalton expected, with some help, to build a very respectable log cabin from the timber on the place. his last two vacations had been spent in helping a carpenter and small contractor. while his experience might not apply to handling logs, it would help. leslie, like dalton, was more of the brunette type, though not dark. brown hair and lashes, grey eyes, good features with a pleasing mouth, laughing or firm as circumstances might demand, were her assets. she was taller at not quite sixteen than her older sister, and according to her own statement could not "draw a crooked line"; but she could play on ukelele or guitar as well as on the piano at home, and she and sarita knew all the songs, old and new, that their generation afforded. sarita, brown-haired, brown-eyed, demure, pretty, half a head shorter than leslie and a few months younger, was the fortunate one of the party in having a father. an easy-going step-mother let sarita do very much as she pleased, a delightful, though not altogether safe method of management. but sarita's pleasures were always harmless ones and included those of her chum leslie. both girls were active, energetic and capable, with many an enthusiastic scheme or ambition originating in their fertile minds. dalton sometimes called them the "self-starters." after a trip with dalton to view the little lake and to help him bring water from the spring, the girls spent the morning of the second day in arranging their camp quarters. elizabeth, when challenged to bring forth her curtains for their "dresser," surprised leslie and sarita by producing them, deep ruffles that had once graced some home-made dressing table. "they were in a trunk in the attic," beth explained, "and i thought that we could use them here in the eyrie, if it ever gets built." the cots, trunks and the beruffled box took up most of the room in the larger tent, but some perishable supplies were stored there; and dalton set about making what the girls called a chicken coop, to keep their boxes of food stuffs from harm, all to be covered with a huge piece of waterproofing. while he was doing this, he had an opportunity to tell leslie and sarita about his inquisitive visitor of the evening before. he described the man and gave details of the conversation. "what do you suppose he meant, dal?" asked sarita in some excitement, her brown eyes growing larger. leslie, too, was alert, scenting some secret. "oh, i imagine that there is a bit of rum-running, perhaps," replied dalton, driving another nail. "we'd probably better take his advice about minding our own business, though i will admit that it made me hot to have a chap like that laying down the law. i'll make a few inquiries among the fishermen. i've got to see about getting a boat, too. i wouldn't do this, but we have to make our stuff safe from rain or little foragers. what a waste of time it is to work here, sarita." "yes, it is. poor you, dal--let's not have an eyrie." "oh, i'll like building that, when i get at it. it isn't going to take so long, when the materials come and the man who is to help me comes with his helpers. i'm going through the woods some time to-day to mark the trees that i want." "don't take the big lovely ones, dal," said leslie. "no, i'll not. i shall select the trees with less symmetrical limbs or placed where thinning out will be good." "do you know all about old-fashioned 'log-raising,' dal?" sarita asked. "no, i don't know 'all' about anything, sairey, but this man helps build the new-fangled log houses that they have in the north woods, so i have hopes. there! that's finished!" "look, dal," suddenly leslie said in a low voice, and dalton turned to see a gentleman riding among the trees and coming toward them. the little camp had been placed back a short distance in the grove, where a more open space occurred, with smaller trees and bushes. it had pleased elizabeth here, though she said that she was being cut off from a view of the sea. but it was better so, more retired, and the smaller trees were, safer neighbors in a storm than the tall ones. lovely ferns, vines entwining the trees, and wild flowers grew about them. beth was in the tent, still straightening and unpacking but the three outside watched the pretty horse and its straight rider. the gentleman dismounted, fastened the horse to a tree, and walked toward them. "good morning," he said, and the young people returned the greeting. everything was in perfect taste about the riding costume, leslie noticed. the gentleman rather nervously flexed a small whip in his gloved hands and looked sharply with keen black eyes from one to another, addressing dalton in particular. "i am told that you have purchased this place and are about to build a house of some sort upon it." "yes, sir. my father bought the ground something over two years ago." "are you sure that the purchase was completed?" "yes, sir. we hold the deed and i preserved the check that my father gave for the land, when we came across it in going through his papers." "where is the deed?" the gentleman spoke a little abruptly, leslie thought. who in the world could he be? "the deed is in the bank at home, but i suppose if you want to assure yourself of our right here, you could consult the records here. i'm not sure just where the place is where the deed was recorded, but my sister will know. leslie, please ask beth to come." "that is not necessary," impatiently their caller said. "i am sorry to tell you, but i am quite sure that your title is not clear. i understood that this land belonged to me. it is certainly included in the description upon the deed that i hold." "it is very strange," said dalton. "i think that you must be mistaken. when did you purchase the land to which you refer?" leslie was proud of dalton. he talked just like father and was so dignified and nice without being "mad." the gentleman hesitated. "it is part of a tract which i acquired some time ago. if i were, you i would not go on building, for i should certainly not sell this land on the bay. it is too bad, but why can you not look up a camp at some other place upon the coast? i know of several excellent places to be purchased at a low price. indeed, considering the matter from your standpoint, i might part with a strip of land some forty miles from here for merely a nominal price." the man was almost fascinating when he smiled in this persuasive way, sarita was thinking, but why so suave and urgent? dalton smiled. "if i have to prove that i own it, so do you," he said, "and i think that i will not consider anything else just now. perhaps it would be just as well not to go on with the building, though i have already ordered some material. if this should prove to be your land, i will pay you for occupancy, but we'll just continue to camp here. my older sister is very tired after her teaching and likes this place. my father's plans were all made and we expect to carry them out in part. but we will not destroy anything, and i will not cut down the trees that i intended until we look into the matter at the courthouse." that this did not please the gentleman was quite evident. he frowned. "i should like you to leave at once," he said at last. "i do not intend to leave at once, sir," sharply said dalton. "may i ask your name?" "yes. i am the owner of steeple rocks and have my summer home there. i should advise you to leave. my name is ives. i am wondering if you are yet of age. i understand that your father is not living?" "no, i am not of age, and it is true that my father is not living." "who, then, is the executor of your estate?" "my sister is executrix, the older one. we have a friend, though, who is our lawyer whenever we need one. if necessary, i can write to consult him about this; but you can easily find out whether or not our deed is recorded." "that is not the question, young man. the question is whether the man of whom your father bought the land had any right to it. you will avoid trouble if you leave the place. my lawyer will look into the matter. a few days, of course, will make no difference. there is a truck on my place which i should be willing to lend you for the transfer." with a business-like air, mr. ives took a card from his pocket and wrote something upon it with a shining gold pencil. dalton, leslie and sarita watched him with various expressions. dalton's face was firm and sober. leslie's eyes were contracted a little as if she were sizing up a suspicious character. sarita wore a look of bright interest. this was an adventure. handing the card to dalton, mr. ives said, "that is the name of the little village where i can permit you to camp, or can offer you land with a clear title. one reason that we like this place is its comparative isolation and we want to keep our holding large and intact. but you would doubtless enjoy more companionship and that you will find in the other community. the homes are scattered, however, and the beach and views are beyond criticism. as i said, in view of your disappointment about this, i can afford to be generous." dalton glanced at the address on mr. ives' personal and listened to what was said. "i see your point, mr. ives," he replied, "but none of us intend in any way to disturb the quiet of steeple rocks. we, too, like the wildness of the place, as well as the feeling that we are on land that our father admired. my sister is an artist and rocks and woods appeal to her. thank you for the offer of the truck, but we'll not be moving till we find out definitely the facts in the case." "if you will call, i will give you such information as you want about my ownership," mr. ives said, in the tone of speaking to an obstinate boy. quickly he turned away, and a silent group watched him until he disappeared among the trees. then sarita dropped to the ground and sat holding her knees. "well, what do you think of that!" she cried, "going to tell beth, dal?" "no; not a word, please, girls. beth is too happy to have her fun spoiled and her sleep disturbed by a new problem." dalton sat down on an old stump and leslie dropped beside sarita. "she got out her pencils and paints and things a little while ago," said leslie, "and she was unpacking her easel when i left the tent. that accounts, perhaps for her not coming out. i wonder she didn't hear mr. ives. there she comes, now." "let me handle it, please, les," said her brother in a low voice. "hello, beth, getting ready to paint up the place?" "yes, i'm taking my easel out on the rocks. i must get a sketch right away of the bay and cathedral rocks. i thought i heard another voice out here, but i was too lazy and busy with my traps to come out." "you don't want to see anybody, do you, beth? well, this was only the man that lives across the bay, or around the bay, as you like, the man of steeple rocks. i imagine that he wouldn't mind your sketching them. what do you think, girls?" dalton's voice was so sarcastic that beth laughed. "you didn't like him, that's certain. i'm glad that i didn't come out. he can't help my sketching his rocks, however. oh, isn't it too glorious here! i thought that you were going to take a swim as soon as the tide was right." "the girls are, i guess, and i'm tempted, too; but beth, i think that i'd be more sensible to hike out and see about our building affairs and one thing and another. i may get a horse in the village and ride to the station, too, to see about the other junk that's to come. you won't be afraid without me, will you, girls?" "no, indeed," leslie declared. "besides, sarita and i are going to put up our target and practice a little. bail us out if we get arrested for shooting, dal. but if they hear it at the village at all, it may warn anybody of 'hostile intent.'" "i don't like to hear you speak in that way, leslie," said beth, with decision. "it is right for you to learn, i think, but use the greatest care, please. load just before you try for the target and be sure that all your cartridges have been exploded. if you never get reckless or careless it is all right. you'd better fix your target in front of the rocks, too. then there will be no possibility of someone's coming through the trees to get shot." "my, beth, you think of everything don't you? we'll not do it at all, if it makes you nervous, and i promise you, up and down and 'cross my heart,' that no 'weepon' is going to be left loaded. in case of an attack by indians, we shall have cartridges handy anyhow." "in case of a _large_ band of indians," grinned dalton, rising from the stump, "there are plenty of cartridges in my tent." "just think," said sarita, looking around at the spruces and ferns, "once there were indians all over this place. i 'spect they liked it, too." "i 'spect they did," returned dalton, "and i 'spect that they and the white men had a great time trying to drive each other off." with his back to beth, dalton winked at leslie. "girls," he added in a new tone, "whatever happens, i'm going to take one dip with you. come on. everybody into bathing suits!" beth was already strolling toward her rocks, but one more unusual adventure was in store for the others. it was not quite as convenient as if their property sloped directly to the beach, but the trail was not long to a descent whose footing was not too impossible. presently they were on their way, dalton running ahead, with his bathrobe over his arm, the girls in their coats over their bathing suits, for the breeze was a little cool. yet the sun was warm, and the lapping waves of a smooth sea invited them. "dal says," leslie was saying, "that he is going to find out where the deed is recorded and he may be able to get into touch with the man of whom father bought the place. he doesn't know when he'll be back. let's get beth to bed early to-night. it will be easy, because she is ordered to do it, you know. then she won't know if dalton doesn't get back. will you be afraid?" "very likely, but it has to be done. mr. ives looked rich. don't you suppose that he could even get the records fixed up if he wanted to?" "i don't know. i should imagine that we'd have some account of the recording, some receipt, or something. i don't know much about such things, but dal will find out, and beth, too, if we have to tell her. oh, if beth can have only a few weeks of rest, it will be enough! mercy, what's that?" the girls looked back along the narrow, weed-grown trail. a loud clattering on the rocky way announced the coming of a horse at some speed. the girls drew off among some bushes. they were startled to see a great black horse dashing over the uneven ground and a frightened girl clinging to reins and saddle, with no control of the animal. a white face and tight-set lips flashed by, as the horse swerved suddenly, almost unseating its rider. then it dashed on. "it shied at us," said sarita. "look. she's trying to shake loose from the stirrups--to jump, i suppose. my! there's that pretty nearly straight-up-and-down place just beyond where we go down to the beach!" leslie set her teeth together and shivered. "poor girl! but perhaps the horse won't fall. at that pace i'm afraid it will kill her to jump." both girls started to run forward, as a turn in the cliff and the trail took the horse and its rider out of sight for a few moments, behind a clump of wind-blown pines and some bushes. but the girls hurried around to where they could see the road again, and they wondered where dalton might be. "if dal has gotten to the beach," said leslie, "we'll have to call him to help, in case of a bad accident." "it is pretty level after that one place," sarita answered, "and perhaps someone at the village will catch--" but they heard a frightened scream. now they could see the scene clearly. what was the girl doing? and there stood dalton at the side of the trail opposite the cliff's edge. his feet were apart, bracing his body, for his arms were outstretched to catch the girl. there went a flying, falling figure,--and dalton, under the impact, fell too. what a crash among the bushes! chapter iii peggy ives the running girls reached the scene just as dalton and the girl who had jumped from the horse were picking themselves up and out of some blackberry bushes. leslie was relieved to see that dalton was disentangling himself with all his limbs in working order. "oh! oh! didn't i _kill_ you, falling on you that way? i ought to have known better, but you held up your hands, you know. say, i could have chosen some bushes that weren't _blackberry_ bushes, though!" somewhat hysterical leslie thought the young lady, but when she knew her better, she found that this was peggy ives' usual style of conversation. "just look a little farther on and you will see why any bushes would do," said dalton, pulling a long blackberry branch from her dress and giving her his hand to help her up. "say, you are all scratched up, too, and you even had the sense to throw your robe over the bush,--not that it did much good! i'm full of prickles, but i am certainly much obliged!" by this time the young girl was on her feet, looking questioningly at the girls who had stepped up closely. "are you hurt, dal?" leslie inquired. "not to amount to anything,--a few scratches." "and a bump or two," added the new acquaintance. "i caught you sideways," said dalton, "and only eased your fall. are you sure that you are whole?" "oh, yes. i'm not feeling so good, but neither are you. my name is peggy ives." "mine is dalton secrest and this is my sister leslie." leslie, rather ashamed of having asked after her brother's safety first, held out her hand to peggy and asked if she could not help get out some of the prickles. sarita was introduced while they drew out of the bushes and crossed the trail to the edge of the cliff, where there were rocks to make seats for them. peggy limped a little and leslie put an arm around her, finding peggy a slim little thing, glad of someone to lean upon. dalton still stood by the blackberry bushes, getting rid of briars, and wiping off the result of some scratches, with a handkerchief which he had found in his bathrobe pocket. "what became of my horse?" peggy asked. "did either of you see it?" "yes," sarita answered. "he ran on and fell, but he must have picked himself up, for i looked down the road a minute ago and he wasn't there." "i am going to 'catch it' at home. oh, here they come!" they all looked up the road, in the direction of steeple rocks, to see mr. ives and a pleasant-looking youth of perhaps dalton's age. both were riding, their horses carefully held in to keep them from stumbling. "did you get thrown, peggy?" the boy asked, as peggy rose and limped out toward them. "no. i jumped. that boy over there--" "never mind, peggy," said mr. ives impatiently. "jack says that you bolted into the woods and left him. where is your horse?" "i don't know. this girl says that she saw him roll down the hill, but he isn't there now. they were ever so kind to me--" peggy seemed fated to be interrupted, for mr. ives again broke in upon her speech to direct the boy to give peggy his horse and go down into the village to find the other. "if you can't find him, go to bill's and get a horse to bring you home." peggy was helped upon the other horse, after a vain effort to introduce mr. ives to the girls. dalton had thrown his bathrobe around his shoulders and started for the beach as soon as he had seen the ives delegation approaching. "i have met them, peggy," mr. ives had said shortly. "you did not see me bow to them." "neither did we," said sarita, a moment after peggy, looking back with a smile and wave, had ridden away. "neither did we what?" asked leslie. "see mr. ives bow to us." "well, he gave us a look anyway, and maybe he did bow. i didn't think about it." "scene number two in the secrest-ives meller-dramer!" sarita went on. leslie laughed. "what brilliant idea have you now, sarita? what was scene number one? mr. ives' appearance?" "yes. villain appears, threatens hero. scene two, villain's daughter rescued by the hero. leading lady, star of the movies, yet to be discovered. perhaps she is the villain's daughter." "she is a nice little thing, isn't she? i imagine that she is a little younger than we are, but it's hard to tell. she has a funny streak,--telling dal that she could have chosen the bushes!" "i liked her, and mr. ives can be just as nice as pie, but he wants to get rid of us, that's clear, and he doesn't like it that dal isn't more upset and scared about it." "smart girl. that's what i think, too. but i wouldn't say that he is really a 'villain.' perhaps he is right. wouldn't it be _too_ bad if there was something crooked about the title and father didn't know it! the only thing is, i can't imagine that father would buy a piece of land without knowing all about it." "and your dad a lawyer, too!" "exactly. but look at dal, going in anyhow! the salt water will nearly kill him with those scratches!" they did not stay in the water long on this first occasion, but they all found it invigorating and dalton insisted that after the first he did not notice the scratches. "i'm hurrying off now," he said, after they came out of the water. "i'll probably have to get the name of the man father bought the place of from the deed. i wish we'd brought our deed with us. perhaps beth will remember it, and i can ask her casually, 'by the way, beth, do you remember,' and so forth?" "i'll ask her, and tell you. you'll not be dressed before we get there." "no. take your time. don't hurry sarita up the cliff and maybe have some accident yourself. turned out to be ives' daughter?" "yes, i suppose so, by the way he bossed her, and her name is peggy ives. didn't you kind of like her?" "a smart little thing. she screamed just before she jumped; but she was plucky about her bruises. i shouldn't be surprised but she sprained her ankle. get acquainted, girls. perhaps the stern parent will relent toward us." "i think i see ourselves calling at steeple rocks! you'd better go. _you_ have been invited, you know." dalton laughed and ran on, his bathrobe flapping about his ankles. but like peggy, dalton was not feeling "so good." he had fairly thought at the impact that his shoulder was broken or dislocated. then he found, as they picked themselves out of the blackberry briars, that it was not. the cold sea water felt good to it and he gave himself a vigorous rubbing both in and out of the water, not trying to swim out far from shore, a sensible plan in any event, since they did not know the coast here. now his shoulder ached. when leslie came into the little camp, shortly after his own arrival, he called to her. "any of that liniment, les, that i use?" "yes, dal. do you suppose that beth would go anywhere with you along and no liniment?" dalton heard sarita laugh at this. "i didn't know, leslie," dalton returned. "i didn't expect to play football up here, you know. please hunt me up the bottle,--that's a good girl!" leslie made no reply, for she was already hunting the liniment. handing it in through the flap of the tent, she said, "let me rub your shoulder for you, dal." "thanks. i'll do it this time, but it knocks out my going anywhere with my good clothes on. did you ever see such luck!" "don't worry, dal. if mr. ives really is going to do anything mean, all he would have to do would be to telephone somebody to fix it up and that would get ahead of you anyhow. it is too late to go to-day, seems to me. get up early to-morrow morning and start." "perhaps i will, but i'll go to the village and get some means of transportation arranged for." shortly dalton was out, arrayed in his camp outfit, an old shirt and a sweater covering the aching shoulder. but he looked more dogged than happy as he started down the trail again, and sarita remarked to leslie that dalton was blue. "i believe that he is more worried over what mr. ives said to us than he will say. but i'm not going to worry. whatever is right will be found out, i hope, and anyhow we are in this lovely country. it wouldn't cost much to put our things in a truck and go somewhere else, but not on any old land of mr. ives'! we could rent a spot near here. but what i'm wondering about is if he has any reason why he wouldn't want us to stay around. there are other tourists, though, in cottages." "but none so near steeple rocks, leslie, or on the bay. maybe he just wants what he thinks is his own land." "or _wants_ to think it." as so often it happens, the day had turned out entirely different from their plans. instead of target practice the girls chose other pursuits. elizabeth was absorbed in her first successful sketches. dalton brought back from the village some fine fish and reported that he had found out how to get to the county seat, where the deed would be recorded. he had found someone at the village who would drive him there. elizabeth was not admitted to this news, but after their delicious supper, she officiated as chief nurse in making dalton comfortable. the other girls had given her the details of the accident. "it will do no harm to wait a little in seeing about your building, dalton," consolingly said beth, gently rubbing in the liniment. "by morning, though, this will feel better, i am sure." "gee, your hands are soft, beth. you are as good as mother used to be!" "that is about the nicest thing you could say to me, dal," returned his sister. "i've been a poor substitute, but i have wanted to take her place a little." "you are all right, beth," said dalton, with boyish embarrassment over sentiment expressed. "you've had to do father's job too. _boy_, that feels the best yet! do you know what i'm going to do, beth?" "i am no mind-reader, dal." "well, i've decided to put off building or even cutting the trees for a week or two. i'll fish and poke around in a boat, seeing the place. you and the girls will want to come along sometimes, too. we'll go out and get you fine views of the shore and beach and all the rocks you want to sketch. and the next fish we eat may be what we have caught. how do you like lobster and shrimps, beth?" "i am perishing for some!" "here's the boy that will get them for you!" thus elizabeth accepted the change of plan without being troubled by a knowledge of the cause. chapter iv "snoopers" the camping adventure developed rapidly and more pleasantly during the next few days. elizabeth was enthusiastic, sleeping soundly, taking a daily dip or two with the other girls and adding to the really good sketches which she was making either in the woods or on the cliffs and shore. dalton returned from his trip to the county seat with the news for leslie and sarita that the deed had been properly recorded. someone at the courthouse had asked dalton, in connection with some inquiry of his, whether he had an abstract of title or not. this dalton did not know and he promptly wrote to their lawyer friend to inquire. "if we have, leslie, i'd like to see mr. ives get around that." "perhaps he just wanted to frighten us and get us away. could he be connected with rum-running, do you suppose?" "men apparently as honest as he _are_," dalton replied, "but unless it is on a large scale, i scarcely think so. i've put it up to jim lyon, anyway. i wouldn't be surprised if he took a vacation and came on. i offered him a bunk with me,--you wouldn't mind, would you, les?" "it wouldn't do, especially as he likes beth; but there would be some place that he could stay, or he could have a camp of his own." "he could bring his sister and the kiddies, too," sarita suggested. "of course! there is a lovely place for a camp right on our little lake. it would have been much more convenient for us, too, only we wanted to be nearer the ocean. write again and suggest it, dal. mrs. marsh looked sort of wistful when we were talking about going and wished that they could afford a trip. if mr. marsh can't get away, why couldn't they put the youngsters in the old ford and drive through?" "write and suggest it, leslie. jim has a key to our deposit box, and i imagine that if we have an 'abstract' or a 'guarantee of title' it's in there. i don't remember; but there were a lot of papers and things that i never looked at. now i'm going to have a good time fishing. i found out who sold the place to father, and i've written to him,--so let nature take its course while we camp. i met a chap on the train that has a motor boat, a regular little yacht, he says, and he has invited me to go out with him. then i'm getting a little boat of our own _with an engine in it_, les, and it is big enough to sail the briny all right, except in a storm, perhaps." this was a great surprise to leslie and sarita, who greeted the news with enthusiasm, though leslie remarked that she did not suppose he ought to have taken the money. "well, leslie, it is my money, and i got this at a wonderful bargain,--you will be surprised. it belongs to a man at the county seat and he is starting to leave the state altogether, after being accustomed to spend the summers here, you know. he almost gave the little boat away. i took a big chance, of course, for i haven't seen it, but he said that if it wasn't what he said it was, i needn't finish paying for it. he took a chance on me, too, for i only gave him a small payment. but i'll send him a check as soon as i see it. it's in a boat house at the village." the girls could scarcely realize their good fortune, but dalton rather dreaded telling elizabeth. he spent some little time thinking how to approach the subject diplomatically and then gave it up when the time came. elizabeth did look sober and warned dalton that he was using money which should be saved for his further education; but she, too, was pleased with the thought of the trips that they would take together. was the outdoor life making her think less of the "welfare of the children?" the boat was in fairly good condition, dalton found, though he had it carefully gone over, helping in this himself. at odd times, he and leslie began to make a way down to the bay from the rocks, to a place which dalton thought would be suitable for the boat. nature had provided most of the steps, but there was one stretch where it was necessary to assist nature and make a safer footing. then a rope, fastened above and below, would give confidence, for a fall would not be pleasant if it ended on the rocks on the edge, or in the water. on a ledge above the water, one then walked to a small cove. there, at the most protected part of the bay, where the higher part of the cliff began to start out into the curving point or arm which formed a real breakwater, the new boat should lie. but dalton spent only a part of his time on these preparations. in a rented boat he and the girls rowed out on the bay and examined its every cove. "snoopers," sarita said they were, and leslie remarked that so far their observations _had_ been "healthy" for them, which reference elizabeth did not understand. but then she did not always understand the jokes of the younger girls. she had her own thoughts and dreams and seldom inquired about apparently trivial matters. several times when they were on the bay they saw the rough man of dalton's first acquaintance. but he paid no attention to them and gave dalton no opportunity to nod or speak, if he had wanted to do so. bay and sea were often dotted with fishing boats that either remained or went out to a greater distance or to other points along the coast. the girls began to talk learnedly about codfish and mackerel, lobster, haddock and halibut. they did not tire of the sea food and elizabeth came back to earth enough to discover how to cook most effectively the fish which dalton, leslie and sarita caught. at last the day came when the new boat was ready. launched at the village, it contained its young owner at the wheel and a boy of about dalton's age, who was fussing about the engine to see that it was working properly. leslie and sarita were in the bow, uttering mild squeals of delight at the way the little vessel cut the water, as they went some distance out into the ocean, preparatory to entering the broad mouth of the bay. when they were ready to turn and enter the bay, the young mechanic, tom carey by name, took the wheel and showed dalton what part of the bay to avoid, though the entrance was large enough and without any rocks in its deep waters. "but keep away from the little bay or cove under steeple rocks," said tom. "the buoys, of course, warn you." "it is safe enough with a flat boat, isn't it?" dalton inquired. "i came very near rowing in there the other day, but there was that buoy with 'danger' on it and i put off my going till i should ask what is the matter." "matter enough. i suppose that it is years since anyone has tried to go into the bay from this side. around the other side of the headland, though, there are the boats that belong to the ives' place and they get out into the bay here by that rocky channel you see. it's wide enough, and luckily there is that sort of a long bar of broken rocks that separates their dock from pirates' cove. that is what the smaller bay is called. there is a terrible current or undertow, they say, and the last person that ever went in over there never came back. folks saw the boat drift in under the rocks and not a scrap of the boat was ever seen again, and the man seemed to be knocked over by the rocks. nobody ever saw him again, either. he was some sort of a foreigner. it's funny how many foreigners we get here." "where do they come from?" asked leslie, who had come to watch the proceedings when the bay was entered. "i guess that some of them come over from canada," replied tom. "they don't stay very long, as a rule, though there is one family of russians that has been here for several years. they seem to have a lot of relatives that visit them, especially in the summer. bill ritter, too, always has a lot working for him that can't speak good english or don't speak english at all. they may come from the fisheries down the coast. bill's swiss, they say." "what does he do?" idly asked leslie, watching the waves. "he fishes; and i think that he supplies the steeple rocks folks with fish and lobster. he's always going there. you've probably seen him. there he is now in a rowboat." dalton looked in the direction to which tom nodded and saw the darkly red, sunburned features of the man who had spoken to him in his own woods. "yes, i've seen him before. and that is the boat from which somebody waved to me, when i was over by pirates' cove. it was probably bill that pointed out the buoy with the danger sign. when he saw me row to it and read it, he rowed away. he must have been rowing towards me before. i'm much obliged to bill. look at him, leslie. that is the man i was telling you about." leslie, with a quick, understanding look at her brother, gazed in the direction of the rowboat to which they were now nearer. but its occupant, after a glance in their direction, rowed farther away and seemed to be making preparations to cast his line. sarita now came from where she had been leaning over to look at the depths and asked what tom thought of dalton's boat and its engine. "they're all right. that engine is almost new. keep her oiled and you can go to europe with her." "we'll go to europe in a larger boat, i think," laughed leslie. "honestly, though, could we put out to sea in this boat?" "it would be less rough out farther than here about the coast and these rocks, except inside the bay, of course. but i wouldn't advise you to get out there in stormy weather. you are going to keep your launch inside the bay, aren't you?" "yes, just as soon as we get the place fixed for it. dal wants you to see the place, don't you dal?" "yes. i can't imagine the boat's getting beaten on the rocks badly there, even in a gale; but i want you to look at the cove and see what you think." leslie thought that gales seemed almost impossible on a day like that. the sky was serene, with gently floating masses of white clouds against the blue. the sea was almost calm, except where a line of breakers came in close to the shore. in the bay there were only ripples, with the salt water gently bathing the rocks of the cliffs and washing them with a light spray. "cathedral rocks" towered at the northern end of the bay and their own smaller cliff made a low headland at its southern side. as they carefully approached the lower end, they could see elizabeth up on the rocks with her big umbrella and her easel. she was too deeply engaged to see them at first, but when she heard their hail, she came to look over and wave joyfully. chapter v peggy says "thank you" this was only the beginning of trips. leslie, sarita, dalton, and very often elizabeth, went about bay and sea in the new launch, which leslie named at once the "sea crest yacht," only a variation of their own name, she said. sarita thought it delightful that their name was so appropriate to these circumstances and declared that their prospective cabin ought to be called sea crest instead of the eyrie. but leslie reminded her that their father had suggested an "eyrie." "we'll have an 'eagles' nest' on the rocks, perhaps, unless it does seem very much better to build in the woods," said dalton bareheaded, keeping the wheel steady as the little yacht cut the waves. "perhaps dalton would prefer some other name for his boat, leslie," suggested elizabeth, by way of reminding her sister not to be too possessive. "he told me that i might name it," leslie replied, "didn't you, dal?" dalton nodded. "it's the secrest yacht," said he. "i like leslie's idea. i'm teaching her to be at the wheel, beth, and all about the engine, too. i hope that you have no objections." "it will probably be too late if i have, but do use judgment, children!" "we will, dear old emergency brake!" "poor old beth! she didn't want to be so grown up and careful, but had to be!" as she spoke, leslie put her arm around elizabeth, who was standing beside her. "i'm letting you all share the responsibility now," laughed elizabeth. "i hope that i'll not regret it!" "if we get reckless, beth, we've learned that we have to take the consequences," sarita inserted. "yes, but we don't _like_ consequences, sarita." "hear, hear!" came from dalton, "but les can run the launch if she keeps away from the rocks. luckily the entrance to the bay is broad enough, and the bay itself is remarkably free from rocks that we can't see. tom has given me full instructions, and he even drew a little chart for me." in two weeks time the "yacht" and a newly painted rowboat were safely tied or anchored within the little cove below the eyrie, as they had decided to call their rocks, whether a cabin or lookout were ever built there or not. it was dalton who suggested a "lookout," a small shelter among the rocks, where elizabeth could paint, and from which all of them could watch the changing sea, or be protected from a storm. as dalton told leslie and sarita, perhaps it was a good thing that they were hindered in their first plans and work. "we'll have a much better idea of what we want to do, for being around the place a while." although dalton occasionally felt uneasy about matters, his materials had not arrived for the cabin, and the man whom he had expected to help him was delayed with other work. they heard nothing from the young lawyer at home about an abstract of title. indeed, he had not replied to their letter at all, which seemed strange, considering his previous devotion to elizabeth. mr. ives had not appeared again, nor had they seen anything of peggy. she, very likely, was more hurt with her fall than she had been willing to admit. dalton wrote another letter to the lawyer and after learning that one of bill's sons had charge of the little village post office, he hired a horse and rode himself to the town at the railroad station, to see it safely on its way. just why he should be so suspicious of mr. ives, he did not quite know, but it was instinctive. fishing trips in the rowboat were successful. they were managing to have good meals at slight expense. it was the other part of their undertaking that took the money, dalton's boat and the prospective building. but they had no regrets. there would be enough to do it and dalton told beth that with her attaining fame from some picture of steeple rocks, and his learning to fish and handle a boat, they would be "fixed for life." it was a great adventure and the lure of pirates' cove brought much speculation to leslie and sarita. "what would it be called pirates' cove for," asked leslie, "if no pirates ever went there? it isn't any worse with rocks than lots of other places around here where we go, and i think that the story of a whirlpool or current is all nonsense!" "that's all right, les," said dalton, who was standing by her on the sea crest at the time when she made this remark. "watch your wheel, sis. there. turn it that way just a little now. good girl. but all the same, you keep out of pirates' cove, leslie. so far as the name is concerned, there are plenty of pirates' coves on this coast. i've no doubt. it's a good name for any rather mysterious place." "yes, it is," said sarita, who was waiting her turn at the wheel, "but that is it. when we _have_ a pirates' cove right at our door, so to speak, why not get some good of it?" dalton laughed at this and said that they would row around into the ives' territory "one of these days. we can see all the rocks closer there." "not i," firmly said leslie, not knowing that she would be the first one to go. "it might remind mr. ives of our existence, if he should see us. let's let well enough alone, folks. when we hear that we have an abstract of title and everything, you can go over to steeple rocks, dal, and tell him so." "i'll begin to cut down a few trees, then," said dalton, with a grin. "that will bring _him_ over fast enough." but their freedom from mr. ives was due to another cause, as they found out at once; for when they came back from this trip, they found peggy ives at the camp, in animated conversation with beth. beth was showing peggy their camp and she was admiring the convenience of their "bungalow tent," when leslie and sarita appeared in the door. "oh, here is our circus lady," cried sarita before she thought. she and leslie had so dubbed peggy, but they had not intended to announce it. peggy's eyes smiled at sarita, however, as she turned from an examination of the ruffled dressing table. "is _that_ what you call me! i _was_ quite a performer, wasn't i? i just came over to tell you how much obliged i am that your brother made me jump before i got to that awful place further on. i came to say 'thank you' to him, and then i want you all to come over to steeple rocks to have dinner with us." "thank you, miss peggy," elizabeth said at once. "i scarcely think that we can do that. you see, we have chiefly camping clothes, and we are not ready for dinner at a home like yours." "oh, we don't always dress for dinner. mother lets me come in to the table in my sport things. she wants to see you. father had to go away on business the very next day after i fell, and we haven't seen a thing of him since. i would have been over before, but i did give my ankle a terrible wrench and then i was sick a little, too. mother said it was 'shock,' but my nerves are all right!" "i'd think that the scare you had would do something to them," sarita remarked. "it is ever so good of you to ask us over," leslie added, glad that elizabeth had started the "regrets," "but beth is right about our clothes, peggy. _you'd_ better visit _us_ here. we'll have a beach party and chowder. wouldn't that be fun?" "yes, it would. i'd like to; but still, we want to have you come to steeple rocks, too. where are the clothes you traveled in? you will like my mother. she is nicer than my father, and i am _very sure_ that she will be disappointed if you can not come. she told me to bring you to-day if you would, and if you had something else that you were doing to-day, you could come to-morrow. then she didn't know whether you had a car, or horses, or anything, if you thought it too far to walk. it's terribly rough for a car, of course." they were outside, now, sitting upon the various seats that dalton had provided, from stones, or logs found in the woods. "no, we haven't any car or any horses, but it is not too far for us to walk," gently said elizabeth. "i still think, though, that, as leslie says, it would be better for you to visit us here. stay to supper with us. dal is fishing now. sometimes he gets a big fellow that we can scarcely eat up." "i wouldn't dare stay this time, thank you. mother would think that i'd had another accident. besides, the boy that you saw the other day is with me. he stopped back in the woods on the way over from the road. i'd _love_ to stay, though." peggy looked as if she were almost ready to yield, in spite of better judgment. "we'll hurry up the meal," leslie suggested. "there comes dal now. go and ask your friend to come too. it doesn't take any time to cook fish on our portable stove, and it will be such fun to have you." "i'd love to see how you do it! well, i'll go and call jack and see what he says." dalton reached the tent just as the "circus lady" was disappearing into the woods. "'how now, malvolio?'" he inquired facetiously. "more communications from the ives?" "peggy came to say 'thank you,' dal," beth replied. "she is a dear little girl,--though for that matter, i imagine that she is only a year or so younger than leslie and sarita." "she just told me that she is fourteen," said leslie, who had walked a little distance with peggy. "she did it in such a funny way, saying that perhaps we thought her too young to 'play with us,' but she _would_ like to know us. imagine, dal." leslie looked at her brother with a funny smile that elizabeth, naturally did not understand. "why is that strange?" she asked. "i know that dal does not like mr. ives, from something he said; but why shouldn't he like peggy?" "there isn't any reason at all," dalton answered. "she did give me a lame shoulder and a few bruises and scratches on our first acquaintance, to be sure, but that was nothing." "this sounds as if your meeting peggy were in a fight. dal," sarita said, "but hurry up with that fish. leslie and i will help you clean it, while beth gets the things ready to cook it." thus it happened that neither leslie nor sarita could offer a fishy hand to jack morgan, who came hurrying into camp with peggy, his blue eyes smiling and his frank face interested, as they could clearly see. he acknowledged the introductions with the manner of a boy used to meeting people, and laughed when leslie and sarita displayed their hands, cleaning fish with dalton over some paper which could be gathered up and burned later. "i hated to be hurried away that day when peggy scared the ives family nearly to death, but her father and i did not know but she might be seriously hurt after all; and after being shaken up by the ride home, she was glad enough to be taken care of in a hurry, weren't you, peggy?" "m'm-h'm," nodded peggy, watching operations with the fish. "if dad hadn't been so cross over nothing, i wouldn't have minded so much." "he was worried, peggy," said jack. leslie thought it good of him to make excuses for his handsome but irritable host. at once they all liked jack morgan. he turned out to be a cousin of peggy's, whom mrs. ives had invited for the summer at steeple rocks. peggy privately informed leslie that jack was worth a dozen of their other guests, most of them friends of her father's, she said. but almost everyone was grown up, she said, and peggy had no chums of her own. sarita and leslie forthwith invited her to make chums of them, and they were not a little touched at the eagerness with which peggy accepted the offer. the little hurriedly-prepared supper broke any remaining ice. when jack finally rode off with peggy, both insisted that there must be a beach party at steeple rocks very soon, to which all the camping party would come. beth thought that it would be very pleasant and accepted for the family, which was just as well; but she did not notice that while the rest commented on the kindness of the invitation, none of them committed themselves about coming. "we did that very well, dal," sarita remarked afterwards. "they know that we'd love to come, but if mr. ives appears and says anything, they may remember that beth was the only one who said anything definite about accepting, and even she said 'if we can.' i am pretty sure that they are all regular summer folks with money and clothes and style." "it does not sound very well to hear peggy criticise her father," dalton suggested, to the girls' surprise. they had seen peggy go up purposely but shyly to dalton after supper, to say her "thank you," they supposed, and they had noticed dalton's friendly response. "i thought of it, too," said leslie, "and i am sure that beth did; but at that, peggy ives may have reason to dread her father, even though she should not speak so before strangers. i don't trust him." yet it was leslie, on the very next day, when she was at the beach, alone, who accepted an invitation to enter the ives' launch. she was the first one of the secrest party to land at steeple rocks. chapter vi a "close-up" view dalton had gone to the town on the railroad, where he had arranged to have his mail sent for a while, writing to the lawyer again and telling him to direct important letters to the general delivery there for the present. sarita had a headache and was lying down for the afternoon, looked in upon occasionally by elizabeth, who was at her usual occupation of sketching or painting. beth ascribed sarita's headache to some cheap candy which the girls had bought at the village and was hoping that a little soreness about sarita's throat would not amount to anything. leslie, who had been in the ocean earlier in the day with elizabeth, was a bit of bright color on the beach in a red frock and sweater to match. she was easily seen from the launch, where figures waved at her and pointed toward the dock, a small one at the end of the town nearest the secrest headland, as peggy had begun to call it. they were beckoning her to come, leslie saw; and making a pile of her shells, for gathering them was her latest occupation, she ran toward the little dock. there, before she arrived the pretty launch was bobbing up and down inside the breakwater. "come on for a cruise, leslie!" called peggy. "it's grand this afternoon. we'll bring you back in time for anything." jack was out on the rough boards to help leslie inside of the launch. it was really not necessary to accept or refuse, only to climb in. a large, dark woman looked critically at leslie and leslie found no sympathy in her eyes when, after she was seated, she met her glance. "madame kravetz, this is leslie secrest. madame teaches me, leslie. where is sarita?" "she has a headache and beth is hoping that it doesn't mean tonsilitis. sarita wore a thin dress and forgot her sweater when we went out last night, but beth is dosing her and perhaps it will not amount to anything." leslie was wondering a little about peggy's governess. she did not look french, and her name was certainly not french. she might be one of those swiss who are part french and part german. leslie did not like her expression. jack was running the launch. out to sea they started; then, after a time, they made for the bay, which was better for launches than the sea, which was growing rough. for a while they cruised around among the fishing boats and a few pretty sail-boats until peggy directed jack to head for steeple rocks. "take leslie through the channel, jack, and show her our little harbor in our own bay." madam kravetz started to say something, but closed her thin lips rather tightly instead. leslie thought that she had been about to make an objection, but she was having too good a time to think much about their chaperon. the channel was interesting. jack was careful between rocks at the entrance, but the distance widened as they proceeded. at their right a narrow islet with high rocks kept the force of the ocean from the channel and other rocks made a breakwater for the ives' harbor, "ives bay." "people are often afraid when we take them through the channel for the first time," said peggy, "especially if they have heard the stories about pirates' cove. but we tell them that the channel is deep and safe even for a boat of fair size, if they veer away a little from the rocks on the cove side." peggy nodded toward the rocks at their left over which tossing waters left their spray. "dad showed jack where to go and where not to go," she added. "i just _love_ steeple rocks, leslie, and i wish that you would come here a lot." leslie saw that madame kravetz looked annoyed. she almost turned her back upon the girls and looked out over the boat's edge with a frown. "these are beth's 'cathedral rocks,'" leslie replied to peggy. "she loves them, more than any of us. beth is an artist, you know. but we all love to look at them and i like any rock on the coast. they beat sand for beauty any day, though i will say that for bathing, you may give me a sandy beach." little waves lapped the shore near the dock where jack skilfully brought their boat. leslie felt thrilled, as she confided to sarita later, to see a pretty sailboat tied there, together with other boats of various sorts. dear me, they could have everything they wanted, she supposed. in response to leslie's exclamation over the number of boats, peggy said that her father had a large yacht, too, that had to be docked in the other bay. "we wondered if that larger dock were not yours," said leslie. "i think that you are a very lucky girl, peggy, to have so much fun." "but after all, leslie, it's _people_ that make fun and good times, not _things_, or even places, though i like to cruise." peggy frowned and looked thoughtful, while leslie wondered again. but now jack was offering to help the ladies out of the boat "what are you going to do now?" asked madame kravetz. "oh, i want to show leslie all over steeple rocks. jack and i have been intending to explore them more ourselves, but we haven't had time, with all the company we have had." "no,--and you haven't time now," coldly said peggy's governess. "your mother will expect to meet your friend, since you have brought her here; and then it will be necessary to see her home before long, if her sister does not worry about what has become of her." "oh, you always think up such horrid things, madame k," rather pettishly peggy said. "all right, though, for i want mother to see leslie." it was quite a climb to reach the top of the headland and then, indeed, they were only at the beginning of the higher mass known as steeple rocks. but good steps had been made, with a strong railing, that made the ascent easy to the young people. madame kravetz, also, climbed easily. when they reached the top of the steps, they walked from the upper platform to a rocky expanse which was evidently the rear of the steeple rocks garden, for presently they came among little trees, planted with decorative intent, and leslie found herself within a formal garden. flowers were blossoming and leslie would have liked to linger, had not peggy hurried her on to show her the house, an immense affair, of how many rooms leslie could only guess. there were gables and ells and corners and masses of stone. there were chimneys and bay windows and balconies. from the rear they went around to the front, past a porte-cochere, where a big car was standing. the entrance was particularly beautiful, leslie thought, with wide steps and pillars. great flags of stone made the porch floor. light wicker chairs stood about and a long wicker couch was piled with pretty cushions in gay colors. "and they don't want _us_ to have even a log cabin!" leslie thought, in a moment of resentment. but no one could be resentful with peggy, who was the most hospitable creature imaginable. jack, too, felt the responsibility of making leslie have a good time. peggy took leslie to her own pretty room first, where both girls made themselves a little more presentable. leslie was glad that her dress and sweater were respectable, since she was to meet mrs. ives. gathering shells on the beach had not improved the appearance of her hands, which were now washed with peggy's pet soap, fragrant and soothing. then they joined jack on the porch again, to find him at a little table behind tall glasses of delicious lemonade and a dish of cakes. this was almost better than camping! but never mind. the secrests, too, would have a house one of these days! through the trees they could see a tennis court where active figures were playing and other people were about. white, red, blue, orange, all sorts of colors, had a share in the sport costumes. "it's doubles," said peggy. "there, it's over. now they will be coming in, i think." in a few minutes small groups, perhaps a dozen people in all, sauntered toward the house, mrs. ives hurrying on before the rest. "that's mother in the white," said peggy, going to the steps to stop her. "oh, mother, stop a minute, won't you? leslie's here." mrs. ives halted and turned toward leslie and jack. "yes, peggy, if jack will order some lemonade and cakes for us all. that is what i was hurrying for. so this is leslie?" she cordially extended a hand to leslie, who rose and stepped forward to greet her, rather surprised to find her so young, in appearance, at least, with her bobbed hair and youthful dress. referring to their kindness to peggy, mrs. ives renewed her invitation. but leslie saw that her hostess was not speaking very seriously. "thank you, mrs. ives," she said. "we were glad to be invited, but there have been things to hinder us (indeed there had), and then, we are scarcely prepared to mingle with your guests. we came to camp, you know." "that will make no difference," cordially said mrs. ives, "but perhaps you will best enjoy the beach party that peggy is planning. peggy, you arrange it and have what you want. excuse me, miss leslie, i must go on." although leslie felt that mrs. ives pleasant cordiality was not assumed, she saw that her mind was wandering toward her older guests during the time of their brief conversation. one of the ladies was waiting for her and both went into the large room which leslie had noticed as she passed in the hall. sounds of music presently reached them. "now that's over," coolly peggy remarked, "and we've gotten rid of madame. jack, i want to take leslie to my room and talk with her a little bit. will you be ready to take her back in the launch when we come down?" "i surely will, but you'd better make it snappy if you don't want to have miss beth worrying over what has become of her wandering sister." leslie looked at her watch. there was time for a little visit only. she followed peggy back into the attractive room with its comfortable, summer fittings. so near the sea, the house was suitably screened from the strong winds by the pile of headland rocks with their two towers. peggy, however, considered this a decided drawback, since there was no good view of the sea from any of the windows. "but dad said that i would be glad sometimes not to be blown away or think that i was going to sail off with the house! he wanted it close up against the rocks, and you can see for yourself that part of the house fairly joins them. dad has his office there and his own little library. he's a shivery sort of man, anyhow, used to florida in the winters, you know." "how would i know, sweet peggy?" "probably you wouldn't," laughed peggy. "that is what my own father used to call me, 'sweet peggy,' after the old song." "oh, then, mr. ives is really not your father," said the surprised leslie. but that accounted for some of peggy's rather disrespectful speeches. "no, and i ought to be ashamed of myself for not liking him better. i can have anything i want and he doesn't care. o leslie, i wish that you would let me talk to you about things sometimes! you are all so happy, and we aren't, very, here. i don't know just what is the matter, either!" "why, of course you may talk to me, peggy! it seems to me that you might be happy enough, a nice, pretty girl with everything to make you happy. why, child, we've had real trouble,--well, i suppose that you have been through that, too, losing your father." "yes, though i was pretty small, then. haven't you very much to live on, either?" peggy was quite frank in her question, but leslie, to whom having money or not having it was only an agreeable or disagreeable incident, did not mind. "not so very much, peggy," she answered, "but enough to get along and more than some people. then we are always expecting to do and be something wonderful, you see!" leslie was laughing a little, but peggy understood. "perhaps that's it," peggy said. "nobody here wants to do anything but have a good time. if i had been allowed to have one of my girl friends here this summer, i suppose i would have been satisfied. but when mother invited jack, even, dad made a terrible to-do about it and almost said that he should not come; but he had already been invited. dad said that he did not want any 'curious boys' around. leslie, there is something funny going on and i wish i could find out what it is. i'm pretty sure that mother doesn't know either, and she worries. she has been worried ever since that old foreigner came to be a sort of secretary or something to dad. he manages his business, dad says sometimes. he's a count. madame kravetz belongs to the nobility, too." "from what country?" asked leslie, interested. "russia, i think, though she claims to be french. old count herschfeld is supposed to be austrian. you'll see him sometime. he has fishy eyes and is very straight and tall and pale, and has a slit for a mouth, and walks like a soldier. probably he was some sort of a general in the war." "if i were you, peggy, i wouldn't worry over anything that you can't help. you will be able to enjoy this wonderful place. it must be great to be in florida for the winters, too." "i suppose it is. i never thought about it. mother married dad when i was about six years old. he was nicer then than he is now. we travel so much that i have a teacher with me all the time. but i heard mother talking to dad about _not_ putting me in school, so i suppose that boarding school will be the next thing for me." "do you like your governess?" "i do _not_. to myself i call her 'crabby.' kravetz, kravy, crabby, you see. sometime i will forget before company!" "better not," smiled leslie. "but if they let you, suppose you stay around with us a good deal this summer. you and sarita and i will be a sort of--'triumvirate,' you know. dal will be terribly busy pretty soon, building our log cabin, and we'll have to run our launch half the time without him, and fish in the small boat, too. he is taking most of his fun now, he says, though, of course, he will like to build the house, too. he is crazy about the woods and about making things and having a house of our own. we sold our house when elizabeth got a place to teach in a bigger town only a few miles away." "i wish elizabeth taught me," said peggy. "i could learn more if i liked the teacher and was sure that what she said was true." leslie was quite impressed by that statement. she had not liked the face of the governess either. "i'm going to be real good and see if they will not let me off from lessons, though mother said that madame kravy needed the money and the place. but she could stay just the same. dad said the other day that he needed some one 'to help him in his office.'" leslie wondered what his business could be that he carried it on in this remote spot. but he might be some big executive who had to keep in touch with affairs and write "letters and things." busily they talked. peggy thanked leslie for asking her to be a member of a "triumvirate" and said that if sarita did not mind she surely would belong. "jack is sort of lost, too, without anybody of his own age. perhaps dalton would not mind if he hung around when he was building." "well, peggy, i think that i ought to tell you something, if you promise not to say a word to elizabeth about it. you see beth was all used up when school was out, and if she can only have a little while to be happy and get strong again, why then it won't make so much difference what happens, and i suppose that she will have to know about this. now it _might_ interfere with the 'triumvirate.'" "tell, me. i'll not say a word. i can't imagine what it is." "i'm sure you never could. you see, peggy, your father may not _want_ you to come to see us, or have us out here, or anything. was he there when your mother sent word for us to come?" "no." "i thought so." then leslie gave the details of their first meeting with mr. ives, summing up the case quite clearly. "so, you see, if mr. ives wants to get us off the land, and we stand up for what we think are our rights, it may not be so very pleasant all around. we'd always like you, peggy, but it might be embarrassing for you to have much to do with us." "it would be a great deal more pleasant than not to have anything to do with you. little peggy will try diplomacy. i'll find out what dad is up to; but if i don't, and the position in the triumvirate is still open, i'll fill it, you can be sure." "well, then, peggy, don't do anything you oughtn't for our sakes." "how about little peggy's sake, leslie?" "same thing. but if your mother lets you, you will certainly be welcome _on_ the sea crest and in the eyrie pretty soon." "when shall we have the first meeting of the 'triumvirate'?" "say to-morrow." "to-morrow it is." the faintly ticking little wrist watches announced to the girls who glanced at them that they must bring the visit to a close. they ran downstairs and leslie strolled out, while peggy hunted up her cousin. in a few minutes the three were going down the steps to the ives' launch, which carried them past the foaming rocks and into the bay toward leslie's homing spot, the little rude dock at the base of the secrest headland. pirates' cove looked just as interesting and deadly as ever, as they passed it. the sea crest bobbed up and down gently in recognition of the other boat, and jack gallantly handed leslie to a safe foothold and saw her up the more difficult steps, before he took the wheel from peggy and waved a goodbye. the little launch chugged away. leslie stopped at the top to lean upon a rock and watch the boat and her new friends. what a queer household there was at steeple rocks. mr. ives was not peggy's father. she was glad of that. she was sure that others there beside madame kravetz were foreign. the lady who waited for mrs. ives and joined her had spoken to her in french, probably because mrs. ives knew french; for she heard the guest "jabber" something else to another lady that followed them. there was something queer going on, peggy had said. of course. it was that, perhaps, that made mr. ives try to send them all away. leslie's thoughts were busy with impressions received at steeple rocks. chapter vii rights assured on leslie's arrival in camp, she found only beth there. something savory was steaming on the portable stove, which stood out under the trees, protected from any breeze too strong both by the natural screen and one manufactured from canvas. "soup to-night, leslie," said beth. "sarita thought that she could enjoy it. step into the tent and see what you think of that water color. i finished it. tell me that the sky looks like the one we see here!" "oh, it does, beth," called leslie in a moment from the tent. then she came out to help. "it is lovely, beth, the prettiest thing you have done yet. where is sarita?" "back in the woods with her glass. the last i saw of her she was trailing a warbler and trying to find its nest. i think that she called it a redstart. she is ever so much better, though rather weak after that headache. her throat is a little raw, but she will escape any further trouble, i think. i hope that dal will get back in time for supper. i was almost worried about you, gone so long." "peggy and jack picked me up from the beach and i had a trip to steeple rocks. there doesn't seem to be anything to do, beth,--do you care if i go to hunt sarita?" "not at all." back into the fragrant woods leslie strolled and met sarita coming with dalton by the little trail, now quite a path of their making, that led through the woods from the road. the two were laughing and talking as they came and dalton waved triumphantly a letter as he saw leslie. "letter from jim lyon, leslie. we have the abstract of title safely reposing in our deposit box, where jim says it had better stay. we are to refer mr. ives to him. this land never _did_ belong to mr. ives. he sent me a little list of names of the owners. so mr. ives is--mistaken! in other words, it's all a bluff, for some unknown reason, to get rid of us, or grab the land, or something." "then we can go right on and have our shack! how grand! sarita, if your head wasn't shaky, we'd have a war-dance right here where they used to have 'em!" "what's the matter with sarita?" dalton inquired. "she does look a little peaked." "oh, i'm all right now, dal. beth was sure that i was going to be sick, but it was only a sick headache, i think. beth's been doctoring me all day. my throat is a little raw and that's all. let's hurry up to tell beth the good news." "you have forgotten that she does not know the bad news." "sure enough. why not tell her now?" "no,--i--think not," hesitatingly said dalton. "i've another letter for her from jim,--i told him that she did not know what mr. ives said and that we are trying to keep her from worry. i transacted some business about the building, and that will be enough news for beth about my trip. if beth and peggy don't know, it will make relations less strained, i think." "i told peggy to-day, dal. i almost had to. do you mind?" "you have as much right as i have, leslie, to manage affairs with peggy. tell me about it." "i will. i'll tell nearly everything at supper, then we'll have a private confab later. what do you think? i was at the very stronghold of the enemy,--steeple rocks!" leslie enjoyed the surprise of dalton and sarita, but she continued to speak of beth. "we'd better let her have a little longer time to rest. this doesn't spoil _our_ fun at all, but she might worry and not sleep." dalton wore a wide grin. "your freedom from care shows your confidence in your natural protector," said he, tapping his chest. leslie laughed with sarita, but told her brother that he was more nearly right than he thought. "under these circumstances i'd certainly hate to be here without you!" "thanks for the tribute, les; i'm almost overcome, but i think that i can manage to get into camp without assistance." but dalton pretended to stagger a little, while both laughing girls ran to his support just as they emerged from the deeper wood into the clearing. elizabeth, watching the soup, looked up, startled to see dalton apparently in need of help, but it was evident in a moment that it was only what she termed "some silly joke" as she summoned them to supper. "now beth, don't look at me in that tone of voice," jovially urged dalton. "see this letter that i have for you? don't halt supper, though, while you read it. i'm half starved." "i think that i can manage to wait until after supper," dryly returned elizabeth, but she flushed when she saw the letter. "nice old beth," crooned leslie. "i'm doing all the clearing up after supper, and you shall have a free day to-morrow, too, shan't she, sarita?" "i _think_ so! poor beth would just get into some inspiring mood for her latest masterpiece, when she would happen to think that i ought to have some medicine, or a drink, or something." "nonsense! i had a lovely, quiet day." but beth was tired and after reading her letter she went to bed, while leslie cleared away the evidences of the meal and washed the dishes with sarita's help. dalton then built a fire out on the rocks which overlooked bay and sea and there they toasted marshmallows and talked, sarita wrapped like a mummy, as she declared, to keep her from too strong a breeze. they put her in a sheltered spot, but they sat for a long time about the cheerful blaze, talking over the events of the day and other things. dalton gave the details of his trip to town more fully than he had done before beth at supper. by the firelight the girls read again the letter from mr. lyon to dalton. "here's what he says, sarita," said leslie, leaning where the light would fall upon the page. "'i'm glad that you suggested our coming to maine, dalton. it may be possible, though we do not want to drive with a big camping outfit. can such things be purchased near you? i believe that you ordered yours sent on. i may as well take my vacation there.'" here leslie pursed up her mouth and gave sarita a comical glance. "'you may imagine how the children shouted when i read them your message. marsh can not come, but mary looked as if the mere suggestion of maine breezes were refreshing. we are having very hot weather. i will wait to hear again from you before making definite plans.'" "he will also wait to hear what beth thinks, i imagine," said sarita. "we can let them use the bungalow tent if we get some building done by the time they want to come," dalton suggested. "now that we've had the brilliant idea of an eyrie first, here on the rocks, that ought to be finished _pronto_, and its one big room will do for you girls if our company comes before the shack in the woods gets finished. that will take longer. but i've ordered lumber for the eyrie and it's going to back right up against the rocks. we are going to have a frame inside, then use the rocks around here for the outside, a real stone house, you see, girls, and i shall have it built with a little window looking over the rocks and out to sea, our real 'lookout.' you girls can help gather the smaller stones if you want to, and beth may have, some artistic ideas. "a man is coming to help me. i've ordered a wheelbarrow and a lot of things. just wait till the truck comes to-morrow!" "shall you begin to cut down the trees that you have marked, dal, now that you know our title is all right?" "i am not sure. cutting down trees will mean that someone from steeple rocks will be right over. i think that it might be better to get the eyrie right up, with a lock on the door." "aha! our castle, sarita!" cried leslie. "you are right, dal. now let me tell you all about peggy. she wants to be with us as much as possible, sarita. it was too pathetic. imagine not being happy with all the advantages that she has! but she told me that mr. ives is not her real father." leslie paused to let this statement take effect. "good!" sarita exclaimed, and dalton, too, nodded his approval. "then, her governess, too, is some queer foreigner and an old count somebody, that is in some business or other with mr. ives, is there and her mother has worried ever since he appeared on the scene somewhere in florida,--" "i admire your definite way of telling the facts," dalton remarked. "i want you to get only the main fact, dal, the 'atmosphere' of steeple rocks. from what peggy says it is clear that she is uneasy and that there is some mystery there. if we take peggy into our society, sarita, we are very likely to find out what it is, and anyhow the kiddie needs us, i think. she may be as old as we are in some ways, and again she is just a little girl. but she is true blue, i believe, nothing deceitful about her." "you can take her around on our launch, les," dalton suggested. "i'll be too busy for a while to take out the boats, and you can run the launch as well as i can now." "i'll do it. we'll cruise around and fish sometimes. by the way, jack morgan may come over to 'help you with the building,' he said, when he deposited me on our rocks; and peggy announced that both of them would be over to-morrow." dalton's grin was again in evidence. "we'll see who wins out, the folks that want to get rid of us, or those that want us to stay," and to emphasize his remark, he threw another stick on the fire. by the flickering light they strolled around to look at the place where the eyrie was to be built. as in the case of the steeple rocks home, it could be built against the protecting rocks, in a natural "corner," where the rocks of the headland might form almost two walls. but dalton explained that it would be better to have a good frame inside, and both girls said that as dal always knew what he was about they would leave it to him to show them by doing it. it was quite late when dalton left them, but sarita and leslie lingered. "be in pretty soon, dal," said leslie. they turned into a favorite corner of the rocks, where they, could perch upon one and see over a ledge. "why, look, sarita," continued leslie. "there is a big ship. see all the lights!" "it is either moving very, very slowly out there," said sarita, "or standing still. look! there's a signal of some sort." climbing around the rocks, careful of slipping in the dark, leslie and sarita found a post from which they could see the entire bay and its surrounding waters. neither had said so, but each was wondering whether there might not be some answering lights from the village or from steeple rocks. it was from the village, however, that a motor boat put out. they could hear the chugging sound of its engine and watched its light. it was eerie there, with the sound of the breakers, the faint noise of the little engine as it went farther away, the great dark headlands and woods, the misty air from the ocean. sarita drew dose to leslie and took her hand. "it is all so big that it scares me," she whispered. "i love it," leslie whispered back, "but i imagine that it's just as well for nobody to see us here." "let's go back," hastily said sarita. "if you want to, but who could see us in this dark?" leslie looked up at the sky glittering with stars. "if it were moonlight it would be different. but perhaps we'd better not talk. somebody might be snooping around to see if any of us were up." sarita, not quite herself yet, sat down on the rocks at hand, but leslie stood with deepest interest, watching the moving light. "now they are there," she whispered to sarita; "come on, child, i'm going to see you to bed and then come back with my flashlight to see where that motorboat comes back to,--don't you admire my english?" "i'll wait with you, leslie." "no, not after the day you have had. i ought to have been more thoughtful. come on, honey-child, if only to save me from beth's reproofs." leslie never knew how wise a move she had made, for when she and sarita had been in the tent for a little while, moving carefully, with only an occasional flash of the flashlight, in order not to disturb beth, a watcher among the rocks moved slowly away toward the village. their fire on the rocks had been noted. it was just as well, too, that leslie waited for some little time after sarita was in her cot before leaving the tent again. she knew that it would be some time, very likely, before the launch would return, especially if, as she thought, they were engaged in rum-running. in consequence, she, too, undressed, slipping on her warm bathrobe and her rubber-soled tennis shoes for her little venture. she grew sleepy as she sat for a little while on the edge of her cot, wrapped in a blanket. then, when she found herself nodding, she roused with a start! oh, she must have gone to sleep and it would be too late! but she looked at her watch and found that only twenty minutes had passed since she and sarita had come in. it _was_ a little spooky, leslie thought, to go out to the rocks alone. she had half a notion to call dalton, but when she tiptoed to his tent she heard his even breathing and had not the heart to waken him. coming from the darkness of the tent, it did not seem so black under the starlight. she kept to the path and occasional flashes from her light showed her the ground before her. their fire was out. when she reached the spot where she and sarita had stood, she was surprised to see the launch half way toward the bay. it had not taken them long to load, she thought. and a second surprise, though not so much of one, either, was to see the launch speeding in the direction of steeple rocks, not by way of the bay and the channel, but from the ocean, doubtless to the ives' bay. something, then, was to be taken from the ship to mr. ives. perhaps it wasn't liquor. perhaps mr. ives was a jewel smuggler. perhaps he wasn't! leslie laughed to herself at another idea. mr. ives was away. it might be that he himself was on board the vessel and was delivered here instead of being taken further down to the port. that was probably it. still-- chapter viii the eyrie true to the arrangement, dalton's man arrived the next morning with two trucks instead of one and another man to assist. they were real new englanders, with speech quaint to these young people. the head man told the girls that the shack would be up by night. they thought that he was joking, but if it had not been for a few hindrances it might have been accomplished. it was necessary, however, to fasten it very securely to the rocks, for lack of much foundation, though sarita declared that it fulfilled every requirement of a house founded upon the rock. it was surprising how much two men with dalton's trained assistance could accomplish in one day, and they left for home well satisfied with what had been done. as some more lumber was needed the men drove the trucks back to town, but they promised to come early and expected to stay the next night and, indeed, until the eyrie was completed. neither jack nor peggy put in an appearance, but the girls scarcely thought about it, in the excitement of the growing building. leslie had told sarita and dalton about her having seen the launch move toward steeple rocks, and both girls related what had happened before to dalton. he said little, but seemed to agree with them in regard to the possibilities. that night it was the girls who retired before dalton. he was fussing around, as leslie expressed it, seeing that tools were under cover and everything about their materials in order, when they left him and went into their tent. remembering what warnings had been given him, dalton felt a little uneasy, now that they were actually launched in building, though in so small a way. he hoped that no one had discovered the undertaking so far. finally he went to bed and slept till some time past midnight when he woke with an uneasy feeling. the surf was booming beyond the camp and the rocks. he heard an owl hooting in the woods. then he thought he heard sounds as if someone or something was moving through the thickets or brushing by the bushes along the path. it would be hard to make one's way through this grove without some noise. again he heard the cracking of a stick. reaching for his gun, dalton sprang out of his cot and peered through the flap of his tent. a dark figure was stealthily entering the camp, making its way toward the pile of lumber. it was carrying something. this was placed against the lumber and a match was lit. dalton waited no longer. he stepped out from his tent, directed his gun toward the stars, away from the tents, and fired. crack! the shot reverberated among the rocks and the intruder lost no time in getting out of range and sight. dalton smiled grimly as he ran in apparent pursuit, but really to see that the dropped match had gone out. he darted behind the lumber, then, not knowing but the shot might be returned. the sounds of someone crashing through the woods came to him and he came to the conclusion that he had successfully frightened away his enemy. most likely he would not want to be identified, dalton thought. there was not much danger that there would be any battle now. "oh, dal! what is the matter? what--are you hurt?" here was leslie, coming from the door of his tent, where she had evidently gone first to find him. "here, sis,--get back to bed _instanter!_ no, nobody is shot. i'm sorry that i had to wake you all up, but somebody was trying to set fire to our lumber and i had to scare him away. did you hear him smashing through the woods?" "yes, and i thought that he had shot you. i was glad to see your cot empty, then i was afraid that you were shot out in the woods!" "go back and tell the girls what happened. we'll not be bothered again to-night; besides, i'll stay awake till daylight. you sleep on and wake me up when the men come, if i oversleep." "all right. i don't think that beth even woke up. her nerves certainly have gotten cured. sarita is awake, though. i told her i'd find out. want my flashlight, dal?" "no, thank you, les. i have my own if i need it." "well, don't stay where you might get hurt, then." "no. i'm going back to the tent again, but i'll have to sneak around a little from time to time. don't worry if you hear me." fortunately for dalton, leslie wakened early and roused her brother when the workmen arrived. such progress was made that in a few days the entire eyrie was complete, "lookout," stone wall and all. there was plenty of material for the wall. boulders near at hand were pried and rolled into position and smaller stones were lifted to place above, all secured by mortar, like a brick wall. the roof, with the little window that looked toward the sea and above the rocks, took some little time, for it must be made weather-proof. but so small a shelter was soon finished. elizabeth promised herself much fun in their finishing the inside to their liking. it was to be their watch tower as well as "the artist's retreat," leslie declared. "i'll give you a day or two more of my valuable time," said dalton, "to put up shelves and make the step that we need at the door, then i'm going to begin on the trees. the men have another job and that is why they were willing to work overtime every day and finish this. if i decide to stay here all winter by myself, i'll have this plastered. but this boarding up will do this summer. "the other man that i engaged for the log house can come pretty soon. my plans are fine unless something interferes. i think that i will report to mr. ives the matter of the man who tried to set fire to our lumber. i can't think that he would want that to happen. a fire here would spread to his own woods. trust a man to look after his own interests, even if he is willing that something should happen to us. i don't think that he was concerned in it. it is hard to understand, unless bill or someone works on his own in smuggling." "you are sure that it is smuggling, dal?" "what else could it be?" then at last came peggy and jack, the very day after the eyrie was completed, coming in the ives' launch and docking where they had left leslie. up by the rocky steps they climbed, not seeing sarita and leslie, who were peering at them over the rocks. "welcome to our eyrie!" cried leslie as they reached the top. "oh, hello, girls," peggy returned. "you almost scared me. i didn't know that you were so close. we just had to come as soon as we could to see what you have been doing. have you built your eyrie, then, or started it?" "just come on a little way and then turn around to your right. couldn't you see the little lookout window from the bay?" "didn't notice it. oh, how cute! and you are making the step of stones, too, with concrete." peggy ran around to where dalton was on his knees, pointing up the step in front of the eyrie door. he was so absorbed in his work that he did not look up for a moment. then he lifted his face and saw peggy. "yes; this is home-made concrete. let's hope that it will last. where have you been, peggy? leslie told us that we might expect you over some time ago. you have missed all the excitement of our first home-building." "i know it. it's been so stupid, except for our playing tennis and cruising around a little. jack is perishing for someone old enough for him to have real fun with. the rest of our guests are too old and i guess that they are all leaving anyhow. we couldn't come, you know. well, yes, we _could_, but dad was home, and i didn't want to risk having an order not to come over at all. so i told jack that we'd just wait and say nothing till dad left. mother said that he was going away again, and we made no remarks at all. "but now dad is gone and we can have that beach party. leslie told you, i suppose, that she told me about dad's claiming to own your land." dalton was rather surprised at the way in which peggy put it, but he answered her seriously. "yes, leslie told us about the visit she had with you. i hope that we shall not have any trouble with mr. ives. we have had word that we have an abstract of title, so we shall not leave, of course. but i scarcely think that it would be the thing for us to go to steeple rocks when he might not want us there. it is very kind for your mother to invite us, but you must remember that she does not know anything about it all. can't you continue to come here instead? you girls can have all kinds of fun together." "but we like you, too. didn't you rescue, me from a--stony grave? i want _you_ to see steeple rocks." "and i confess that there is no place i should rather see." dalton was on his feet now, replacing the boards by which they could enter the eyrie door without setting foot upon the wide step, just completed. jack, sarita and leslie came up now, for an introduction between jack and dalton, and to peep within the one large room of the eyrie. it was still quite primitive, with a sliding bar on the inside of the door to make it secure at night, and a hasp, staple and padlock on the outside, but the boards had been neatly fitted together, perpendicularly, and the rafters were not unpleasant to the eye. already the girls had decorated them with spruce, and a bouquet of wild flowers stood upon the long shelf which dalton had put up. "we can't have any fireplace here," said leslie, "but we shall in our bigger house." "who knows?" dalton inquired. "we may enlarge this place sometime and make what father expected it to be." "sure enough, who knows?" quoted peggy. "i believe that dalton will do anything he wants to do!" dalton gave peggy a big brotherly smile. "thanks," he said. "i'm going to try, but things do not always turn out as you expect, peggy." "i should say they don't!" chapter ix the first tree falls "dal, are you sure that we ought to do this?" elizabeth secrest eyed her brother seriously. "yes, beth. i know that you are thinking about the money, and i don't blame you. you have had a hard enough time to earn our income, and if i slash around and spend all our principal, you'll be thinking 'what's the use?' but beth, there is a method in my madness, and if we get a livable house up, next summer you can bring some of the girls, charge them a reasonable price for room, and board, too, or let them cook for themselves. then i ought to make a little money out of the launch. there's a little colony only a few miles away, if we don't get enough people here to pay." "it is a pity to spoil our woods with people," said beth. "but we'll make the camp ourselves," urged dalton, "and have only nice folks. how would a girls' camp strike you, and i might have a few boys somewhere?" "no, thanks. i get enough of that in school time." "poor beth! but suppose we manage it so you do not have to teach during the year. if i got some one to play chaperon and run the affairs, would you be hostess and perhaps teach a class of girls in sketching or something in your line?" "dal, i'd hate it. wait till leslie grows up a little further to try all that. you wouldn't like it yourself." "i'd like anything that took you out of the school room. but i have another plan for that. all right, beth; but just the same, we'll go ahead now. there are possibilities here. i promise you to spend as little as possible and to do as much of the work myself as i can." "i don't want you to kill yourself and not to have any of the fun, fishing and all." beth had a sympathetic voice that always carried more meaning than her words themselves. "i have already had a great time with that, and i shall again, later. but you know how i like this sort of thing. i'd like to be a big contractor some day. the first tree comes down to-morrow morning!" dalton had another reason for working steadily at their camp. the experience with the man who had tried to set fire to their lumber had made quite an impression. dalton had talked it over with leslie, who thought that it might be the eyrie which could be especially objectionable, since it had the view of the bay and any operations there. "you don't suppose, dal, that they could think us spying?" "they might think that we would report them if we saw anything unusual; but if they think that we are here on purpose it will reassure them when we build a larger and more permanent home,--unless all this comes from mr. ives, and he is really determined to get us away, for some reason." "we girls are going to try to find out." "don't use peggy unless she wants to be in it, whether her father is concerned or not." "what do you think of me, dal secrest! peggy shall know everything that we know, if she lends herself to our investigating. she was thunderstruck when she found out about our having an abstract of title, and mr. ives' name not even mentioned." dalton nodded. "peggy is an unusually nice girl, but she is considerably younger and hasn't much judgment. don't let her get into trouble at home, if you can help it. as for me, i'm going to be right on the job most of the time, and while we are putting up the log house, i'll keep a man to sleep right here in camp. i would sleep in the eyrie now, to watch it, if it were not for being farther away from you girls." "how about our sleeping there, then? with the padlock off, they will know that someone is inside, and there will be enough air with that one window open on the side of the ocean." "someone might climb up on the roof," laughed dalton. "yes, but i'd like to see them climb out and into the window. there's a sheer drop of i don't know how many feet. and one thing, i don't see how they could set fire to the eyrie." dalton did not tell leslie of what he had been afraid, namely that eyrie and rocks might be blown up with dynamite. but he finally consented to have the girls move over to the eyrie, which suited beth; nor did she know how many times dalton wakened at first and came over to see if eyrie and girls were safe. but dalton secrest was not easily moved from any purpose that he was convinced to be a wise one. the first tree fell by his ax at the appointed time. all the girls, peggy included, were on hand to watch operations, and jack arrived, from an errand to the village, just in time. "there!" said dalton, leaning on his ax, "that's done!" the girls, warned away before the tree fell, came around to look at it. "doesn't it seem a pity to cut any tree down!" leslie exclaimed. "yes, it does," dalton acknowledged, "but you need not be afraid. i appreciate this woods perhaps more than you do, leslie. but you notice that the trees are all growing too thickly here. i shall cut two more out." to illustrate, dalton gave a sharp blow with the ax to one of the trees which he had marked. "have you another ax, dalton?" jack inquired. "what is the matter with my taking a hand in this?" "only the fact that your host, mr. ives, does not want us to build here," frankly dalton replied. "what is the matter with him?" asked jack, not much impressed with the news. he took the ax from dalton's hand and applied it to the base of the tree with some skill. peggy jumped up and down like some little child and clapped her hands. dalton rubbed his hands and stood back to rest a little. leslie watched jack with some admiration. they were just beginning to get acquainted with jack, who was not as talkative as peggy, but manly and capable. leslie had an idea that he was not from as wealthy a home as steeple rocks, though he seemed to have clothes for all occasions. she was glad that he was related to peggy and not to mr. ives. it would be hard to like anybody that really belonged to mr. ives, she thought, though she was conscious that she might not be quite fair to the suave gentleman, so unpleasant had been their relations. "go on, jack; that was good," peggy was saying. "it will be such fun to watch a real log house go up. didn't the pioneers always help each other?" "i fancy not when a man was building on land belonging to someone else!" all of the young people were startled at this new voice which came from behind them, as they faced the tree and jack. they turned to see a tall, straight man of possibly sixty years, looking coldly upon the scene. "count herschfeld!" exclaimed jack. peggy shrugged her shoulders. "i rather think there isn't anything of the sort here," said she. dalton tossed aside the ax, which jack had half unconsciously handed him, and stepped forward. "and who may you be?" he asked quietly, setting his lips firmly as he stopped speaking. "introduce us, peggy," sneeringly said the older man. peggy threw back her head and stepped from beside sarita toward dalton. "this is count herschfeld, dalton. count herschfeld, this is my friend, dalton secrest, who is building on his _own land_! miss elizabeth, count herschfeld,--miss leslie and miss sarita--" peggy began to be embarrassed with the number of introductions. she was not very old, and elizabeth put an arm around her, as she stepped forward in great surprise. "are you visiting at steeple rocks, count herschfeld?" elizabeth inquired, starting to put out her hand, then remembering that his first remark had not been friendly. what could it mean? she glanced at the faces around her. jack, frowning, was leaning against the tree. sarita and leslie had drawn together and were looking at the count with anything but friendly expressions. it seemed as if they were not as surprised as she. "you could scarcely call it visiting, miss secrest. i conduct mr. ives' business affairs very largely." "i see. can we do anything for you this morning?" "most certainly; you can order your brother to refrain from cutting any more of mr. ives' trees, and i am sorry to inform you, as mr. ives informed you some time ago, that we should like to have you withdraw from these woods." "but they _belong_ to us, count herschfeld. there must be some grave mistake on your part. my father purchased this land, which is duly recorded and we hold deed and abstract of title in the usual way. my father was a lawyer, sir, and it is not very likely that he would accept a doubtful title." beth's voice sounded very courteous and sweet, but she was as dignified as she was in the school room. "good old beth," whispered leslie to sarita. "she knew all about it all the time. we could have saved ourselves all that trouble if we had told her!" "but you did it to save _her_ the worry. it's a joke on us, all the same!" what would the count say next, leslie thought. he could not have expected them to be so sure of their rights. with a sneering smile on his face, count herschfeld stood there, bracing himself now with his walking stick. "i have no doubt that you think yourselves within your rights," began he, but dalton stepped up to him with a card on which he had been scribbling while beth talked. "here is the address of our lawyer, count herschfeld," said dalton. "you may wish to telegraph him. i want to have no trouble over this, but neither do i propose to be hindered. i have looked up the records purposely before beginning to build. we are not harming any one, count herschfeld, and we want to be let alone. i hope that we shall not be obliged to seek any protection from the law!" dalton spoke strongly and meaningly. count herschfeld lifted his eyebrows at that, but the sneer on his face remained. "i will report what you say to mr. ives," he replied, "also the felling of the trees." "mean old thing!" peggy cried, as the count disappeared through the trees. "probably he'll tell about our being here and jack's helping! he couldn't have heard the chopping clear from steeple rocks, could he?" "no, peggy," said dalton. "beth, we'll have to tell you what happened before. it's a good joke on us. we have spent lots of time and trouble finding out, and here you knew all about the abstract of title and everything." "it was my business to know, dal. why didn't you tell me?" elizabeth was quite amazed that she had not been informed at first. "mr. ives came right over, and you were so worn out that we didn't have the heart to give you anything to worry about. that was all. write to jim, beth, and hurry up his coming!" "i'd scarcely like to do that, dal,"--but elizabeth was smiling. "suppose we just go right on, as you have been doing, dal. we have the right of it. i am surprised that a man of mr. ives' wealth and position should do this. do you know, peggy, why he thinks he owns this land?" "i don't think that he thinks he owns it," replied peggy, her cheeks red with excitement. "he wants you to go away, and i don't think that he is very smart about it, either. he might know that you would know what you are about." "why should he want us to go away, peggy?" queried the still amazed elizabeth. "what harm could we do here? does he want all this woods and country about the bay to himself?" "something like that," peggy agreed. "he was fussing at mother, for 'bringing so many guests' to the place, and he said that he came here to get 'away from civilization.' seems to me, though, that he makes a great many trips back into it!" "perhaps he is obliged to," kindly said beth. "what is his business, peggy?" "i don't know. he doesn't drink, if that is what you are thinking. he has wines for those foreigners, friends of his, and the 'counts' that are always coming, but he never takes any to amount to anything." "oh, peggy, i never thought of such a thing. please consider that question unasked!" beth had not given possible smuggling any thought. "i don't care, miss beth. i'm worried myself about all this." "cheer up, peggy," said jack. "your dad and these folks will let their lawyers fix it all up, and meanwhile we'll have all the fun we want." "unless dad takes a notion to keep us at home!" "here goes for the other tree," said jack, picking up the ax again. leaving the two boys engaged in their task, the rest strolled from the woods to the rocks, where beth disappeared into the eyrie, which she was fitting up to her taste. the other girls went down to the launch, the sea crest, in which they were soon speeding out upon the bay. "every morning," said peggy, "jack will bring me over, either through the woods or in our launch. i'm going to say a little something to mother, so she will avoid the subject with dad, and perhaps she will help us to come. she sometimes does when dad is unreasonable." leslie did not quite know whether she approved of this or not. any form of deceit was abhorrent to leslie and she liked peggy too much to want her concerned in it. the situation at steeple rocks did not seem very admirable, to tell the truth. chapter x the secret no more was heard from the count. dalton and jack spent a busy week, working together and becoming very well acquainted. they were of almost the same age with many ideas in common. jack was intending to enter a university in the autumn and tried to persuade dalton to enter with him, but dalton told him that he was the man of the family and while it had been a matter of course to expect a college education while his father lived, it might not be best now. he had that matter to decide. if he went, he would work his way almost entirely. the girls had savory lunches for the boys, but they were often out on interesting affairs of their own about which they said little either to beth, dalton or jack. the sea crest and the little row boat dubbed the "swallow" were in frequent use. for the most part the girls wore their bathing suits, with raincoats or heavy coats over them, according to the weather. they swam near the beach, they made trips to the village; they climbed over the rocks, and under peggy's leadership they became acquainted with the literal ups and downs of the rocky paths around steeple rocks. they talked of secrets and mysteries before the boys, inviting their questions, but dalton and jack claimed that if they had anything to tell they would tell it. "oh, you'll be sorry!" cried peggy to dalton, whom she liked very much, it seemed, "when we find out why is pirates' cove or uncover a pirate hoard, or something!" "if you find it on our side, miss, it belongs to us!" "finders keepers, dal," laughed peggy. of the girls leslie was peggy's favorite, but sarita had no reason to be jealous, since peggy was too much younger to spoil the old close relation between the older girls. yet peggy was a bit of fire and energy and real lovableness to them both, and old enough in her ways to adapt herself to them if they forgot to adapt their plans to peggy. through sarita, peggy was introduced to the different gulls and other sea birds that flapped or sailed or flew over the bay and in the woods. leslie knew them too and peggy was envious, she said, until she found out that looking through sarita's good lenses, she, too, could distinguish the differences and learn to identify some of them. the little sandpipers that flew in wheeling flocks or skimmed with rapid feet over the sands were her particular delight. leslie and sarita wondered what peggy's real name might be, if mr. ives were only her step-father, but peggy did not seem inclined to talk about herself and they were too polite to ask. that she had been christened marguerite, margaret, or some other more dignified name than peggy they naturally supposed, but they were puzzled a little, as doubtless mischievous peggy intended, when she wrote large upon the sand one day at the beach the name angelina. "that, of course, is my real name, and mother used to call me angel sometimes till dad said that it wasn't very 'characteristic.'" but peggy's pretty lips were parted in what might easily be called an impish grin. "don't tell whoppers, little girl," advised sarita. "thanks. i'm glad you think that 'angel' is appropriate." "your lightning deductions are something wonderful," lazily said leslie, who was lying on the sand in the sun. it was really a hot morning "for once," as peggy said, and the girls could safely take their time to their dip. peggy was telling them about bathing in florida, and how she loved it. "but i'm glad to be here with you girls now and the peppy days that we usually have here just suit me. how about going around home after a while, letting me have a lunch fixed up and exploring that little cave we found. perhaps there is a passage to that hole in pirates' cove." "whoever heard of a hole in a cove?" sarita queried. "you know what i mean, the hole in the rocks there." leslie jumped to her feet. "come on, then. let's do something. one more dip and then for camp!" three heads bobbed up and down in the surf as they tossed a big ball, one that peggy had brought from florida, from one to another while they swam. by this time they had learned where it was safe for them and where the undertow might be a little too strong. dalton, who was a strong swimmer, had both inquired and investigated. a run and a climb and running again brought them into camp, where they changed to dry garments and started on a hike through the woods toward steeple rocks. by this time leslie and sarita had become quite familiar with the way. they scarcely liked to appear at the great house there just because they knew that mr. ives was away; yet peggy frankly wanted them, and her mother cordially urged them to come often. she thanked them for making life at the coast so pleasant to peggy. count herschfeld was away, too. peggy said that it was like a different place with him away and openly rejoiced in the absence of "the kravetz," as jack called her, most disrespectfully. where she had gone peggy did not know. the pleasant fact was enough for her she told the girls, though not in just those words. peggy was a great girl to "rattle on," sarita said; but leslie thought that there was always a point to peggy's remarks and enjoyed them. when they arrived at steeple rocks, peggy ran in to interview the housekeeper, while leslie and sarita strolled about the grounds, which by this time were in their prettiest summer garb. in part the gardens were formal, but there were nooks cleverly wild, yet rescued from the uncomfortable features of real wildness. they sat down on a rustic bench near the tennis court and surveyed the arbors, the porches, the solid, handsome house, the mass of beth's cathedral rocks and their steeple spires, towering behind and above. "grim and mysterious, aren't they, sarita?" "yes, leslie. i rather like the distant view best." "we get advantage of the distance for the outlines." "i wonder if mr. ives has built anything into the rock,--i mean bored or blasted into it see how closely that wall joins the rock." "that is where mr. ives' library and office are, peggy said, and i think that she mentioned a safe built into the rock. she said that was why he keeps everybody away from that part of the house." "oh, he does, does he?" "so peggy said. she says it's no temptation to her to go near his 'old office.'" sarita smiled. "peggy has turned out to be the most enthusiastic member of our 'triumvirate.' do you like her mother?" "i don't know what to think of mrs. ives. she is lovely to us and she seems to think a great deal of peggy, if she does turn her over to other people. perhaps she has to. do you remember mrs. peacock? she didn't do a thing but preen her feathers and play bridge and golf till the crash came; then she gathered up her kiddies from various schools and went to work to take care of them." "yes. it's hard to tell about the society women." the girls rose as they saw peggy tripping down the steps with a picnic basket in her hand. they joined her and went toward the path which led around into the rocks. they crossed the path by which they had entered the grounds from their own and the ives' woods, crossing also the rocky way with the steps which led down to the dock where the ives' yacht was supposed to stay. on a narrow ledge to their left they had need to be careful, but it led to a small cave which they had discovered before. it was not like one hollowed out by the action of water, but more like a space in the midst of rocks which some giant had been piling, one upon another. there were cracks and fissures, too, and the retreat was large enough to be interesting. "i've got sandwiches and doughnuts, pickles, some shrimp salad, and a blueberry pie," peggy announced, "and there is some lemonade in the 'icy-hot.'" she swung the basket to the rocky floor as she spoke and sat down beside it. "you are all hot with climbing and carrying that basket," sympathetically said leslie. "you should have let me carry it part of the way as i wanted to." "it helped me swing around that narrow place," laughed peggy. "besides, let the hostess provide the eats." "are you hostess?" "isn't this steeple rocks? i know that you are laughing at the lunch, but those were the things i found and they all looked good." "i know by experience, peggy, that anything from your house is good," said leslie. "this isn't the first time that you have treated us. hurrah for blueberry pie in maine! we found a new place for blueberries, peggy, scrumptious ones." peggy had saluted when leslie complimented the steeple rocks cooking. now she changed expression. "fee, fi, fo, fum, i smell the--smoke of an english-_mun_! isn't that funny? don't you smell cigar smoke, girls?" "i believe i do a little, peggy," sarita replied. she was at the opening, and taking a careful step or two she looked over the ledge, her hand on a rocky protuberance for safety's sake. "somebody's going down toward the dock. perhaps we are getting a whiff from the pipe he is smoking." "please see who it is, sarita, if you can without being seen. mother said that dad might be home to-day, and if he is, i want to keep out of sight as much as possible." leslie, listening, puckered her brows and peggy saw her. "now leslie, don't worry. it isn't bad of me to keep out of trouble. you just don't understand, that's all." peggy gave leslie an engaging look out of frank, affectionate eyes. "little flirt," laughed leslie. "she knows, sarita, that she only has to look at us with 'them eyes' to have us melt. why don't you try that on mr. ives?" "you think that i'm just pretending! i don't like you any mare, leslie secrest!" but peggy was half smiling as she spoke and leslie did not apologize. sarita was still looking out over the ledge. then quickly she stepped back behind the jutting rocks and plumped herself down by the other girls. "it's bill," she said. "he was going on down, but i couldn't get a good look at him till he suddenly turned; and then i was afraid that he would see me watching him,--hence my sudden retreat!" "could there be some other ledge along here, and someone on it?" leslie suggested. "this one ends here, i suppose, with that big bulge of rock." "suppose we fasten a sign of some sort here and then look up from below and see just what is near us here. that does not smell like a pipe, and i can smell it yet. can't you?" "yes, peggy, though not so much," said leslie. "sarita, this is more like an eyrie than ours, isn't it? you can see most of the bay, our headland, the sea and a bit of the village from here. do you suppose that we can see this with our 'mind's eye' next winter when we are digging into our books and have nothing better to look at than the flat plains of home?" "i wonder," said sarita. below them lay the bay, sparkling in the sun. its salty waves leaped up on many a half-submerged rock near the shore, that sent back the spray. beyond the rim of confining rocks and the secrest headland, the sea surged more quietly than usual, though there was a line of breakers to be seen. the sky was a deep blue, its clouds in heaps of billowing, floating white. "this," said peggy, "is the home of the 'triumvirate.'" "'triumvirate' is not exactly appropriate, peggy," sarita remarked. "no," said leslie. "how about the three bears?" "who's been sitting in _my_ chair?" squeaked peggy in a high voice. they all laughed. it did not take much to make them laugh to-day. peggy was rummaging in her basket and now handed out some paper napkins. "let's have a good name, then," she continued. "what would a triumvirate of girls be?" "_femina_ is the latin word for woman," said leslie. "put it in place of _vir_ and see what you have." "tri-tri--" began peggy, thinking; "trium-feminate!" she triumphantly finished, flourishing a bottle of olives so vigorously that the cork, previously loosened, came out and the liquid spilled. soon the girls were munching sandwiches and olives, drinking copiously of the cold lemonade and talking as busily as ever of jack, dalton and the prospective log house; of the queer happenings at camp and at sea; and of their secret, the 'mystery', in regard to which they had teased or tried to tease the boys. "tell me again, peggy," said leslie, "just what you heard said and just where it was. i want to get it straight. it may be that we ought to tell dal and beth." "it's all right with _me_, leslie, if you do," said peggy. "i'm sure that dad has something up with the count, and if either he or the count are going to do anything to you folks, i don't want it to happen. but i'm hoping, of course, that for mother's sake dad isn't into anything real wicked. "well, it was the night after he was supposed to have gone away that last time. i was as wide awake as anything and i thought that i'd slip out of the house and go down to the shore a while. the house was all still, you know, and i guess it must have been about two o'clock. i would have taken my bathing suit for a dip, but i promised mother that i would never go in all alone. so i just slipped out in my silk negligee and slippers, though it was a little shivery. "i sauntered down the long flight of steps, holding to the railing, and all at once i heard dad's voice below me. i almost ran up the steps in a hurry, but what i heard was interesting, so i scrooched down on the step right where i was to listen a minute. _that_ was curiosity, i'll admit, and i ought to have been noble enough not to have done it,--only that things are queer, and when they are, a body has _some_ right to find out. what do you think, leslie?" "i don't know, peggy; but it does seem that way." "anyhow dad was saying next, 'they are not mere children to be frightened and driven off as you supposed. if i had known that what you told me was an absolute lie, i wouldn't have gone as far in my statement to them as i did. just let it drop.'" peggy's air and dignified speech so reminded the girls of the suave mr. ives that both of them smiled broadly. the words were brutally frank, but peggy's tone robbed them of sharpness. now she was the cold count in her recital. the girls could fairly see him draw himself up in courteous resentment. "'you do not mince words, i see. it was the only way to produce the effect through you. if you believed it yourself, you could intimidate them.'" "'but they were not intimidated. i do not like this intimacy with my daughter any more than you do. but the first object must be to avoid suspicion. i would suggest that we employ'--then i missed a few words just at the important place! dad dropped his voice a little, and you know how the surf roars sometimes. but i got _one clue_ or one thing that might be as important. the count started in to talk. 'see to it,' he said, 'that they'--then a mumble of words--'by the twenty-eighth.' "i said it over to myself, so i wouldn't forget to tell you girls exactly what had been said, and then i realized that dad was coming up the steps. they shook, as you remember they do a little when somebody walks. it was too far to get to the top before he reached me, so what did i do but whisk out to the side and drop under the steps to wait till he passed!" "but it is some distance, in places, to the rocks underneath!" peggy nodded. "i knew it, but it was 'instinctive,' as you say, leslie, to get out of dad's way, and by good luck a nice rock was reachable under my step. i just scrooched there again till dad went by and i'm sure he never saw me. i waited, because i thought the count might come next, but he never did, and i was so curious that when i hitched up again--you ought to have seen my acrobatic performance, girls,--i sneaked down the steps to the bottom and finally all around the place and never a sign did i see of the count. there wasn't a sign of a boat, either, and there had scarcely been time, i think, for a boat to get around behind the channel entrance." "i don't know," leslie said. "you may have taken more time than you thought." "perhaps so, but wouldn't i have heard a boat?" "a launch certainly, but not a row boat against the sound of the surf if it was rather rough that night." "perhaps the count was behind a tree," sarita suggested. peggy looked at sarita to see if she were in earnest. "you know very well, sarita, that there isn't a tree there!" chapter xi the intentional "accident" "i wonder what bill was doing down at your dock," said sarita. "it needs some repairs," peggy replied. "i heard dad say to mother that he was going to bring the yacht down from where _it_ has been undergoing something or other. i smell that smoke again, sarita. where do you suppose it comes from?" peggy jumped up and went out upon the shelf again. "don't smell it at all out here," she said. sniffing, peggy walked back further within their rocky den. "must be a volcano under here, girls. i smell it more strongly." "do volcanoes smoke tobacco?" joked leslie. "this must be a new kind," peggy returned. "come here, girls." sarita and leslie, rather cramped from long sitting, rose and shook out their frocks. leslie tossed a bit of her last sandwich to the rocks below and said that the birds might have it. "you are right, peggy. it isn't very strong, but i do notice a bit of tobacco smoke. isn't it queer? perhaps someone is outside and there is some current that whisks the scent through here." "nothing like having an imagination, sarita. perhaps there is a smuggler's den below us. we may smell the liquor if we stay long enough. perhaps bill has some little cave inside, too." so speaking, peggy again ran out upon the ledge to look toward the ives' dock on this side. there was no sign of bill. "if there is this much of a cave here, why _mightn't_ there be one somewhere below? we haven't found the way to one, but we just might have missed it." "that is so, peggy," said leslie. "_isn't_ this odd!" leslie and sarita were sniffing till peggy laughed at the whole performance. "if i looked as funny as you girls do, sniffing and going from one crevice to another, i wonder that you didn't make fun of me at the start!" "we were more interested in the smoke than in how anybody looked," sarita returned. "it is stronger way back here, don't you think so?" sarita was back where she was obliged to stoop considerably. there was a crack, or fissure, and a hole of no great size into what peggy called the "inner darkness." "i believe that i could crawl into that," said peggy, with some decision. "not for the world!" cried leslie. "my dear chief investigator of the 'tri-feminate,' you might step off into space and fall into some crevice that we _never_ could get you out of!" "that _would_ be a calamity," grinned peggy. "i won't then,--not now, at any rate. it must be as you think, somebody is smoking somewhere and a current brings the odor up here,--but some way that theory doesn't satisfy me." "that is because we _scent_ a mystery, peggy," said sarita. "it's fun to imagine things. i'd just as lief find _bill_ to be a villain, but perhaps we'd better not meddle too much with things around here, peggy." peggy set her lips together. "if there's anything that _ought_ to be found out, why, then, it ought to be,--that's all there is about it!" peggy's attitude settled it. though the older girls felt that care should be taken not to go beyond the bounds of courtesy within the limits of steeple rocks, they certainly had no objections to peggy's solving any mystery there, particularly if the count were the chief villain. peggy had not told them of her little adventure in such detail before. with the words of peggy's step-father clearly in her mind, leslie felt jubilant to think that their possession was to be practically undisputed. but what other plan was there in which they were probably concerned? she would tell dalton, or get peggy to tell him. probably peggy would enjoy the excitement of it. the date was interesting. that would be july twenty-eighth, perhaps. was something to happen to them before that time? "see that they ... by the twenty-eighth!" pleasant prospect! such thoughts ran through leslie's mind and sarita asked her what she was thinking about. "i'm just thinking what the next enemy move will be. peggy, i hope that you can find out what the plan is and what they intend to do to us." "i'll try," peggy promised. "what i'm wondering about is how we can get over on the front of the cliff and see if there are any caves there." "i don't know that i ever used my glasses on the headland when we were close," said sarita. "suppose we take the sea crest out and go over that way." "you forget how we watched those gulls and things that were roosting up there," peggy reminded sarita in her usual indefinite way at which sarita always laughed. "gulls and things, indeed. i'm sure that i found an eagle's nest and we were following a bald eagle as he flew. however, girls, i'm not so sure that we'd see anything if it were there. we never saw _this_ from the bay, you know. there is one opening that we know of." "what's that?" peggy inquired. "there in pirates' cove." "but there is the whirlpool, or whatever it is, and the buoys say danger." "sometimes i have wondered if that were a fiction," thoughtfully leslie remarked, "just to protect the old pirates or smugglers; and maybe bill and his rum-runners take advantage of it. do you remember, sarita, how those gulls the other day were floating near that place? it was fairly quiet, you know, not much spray on the rocks, and i noticed how wide that low opening is. i think that a person could almost stand up there, if there is anything to stand on. i'd like to find out how it looks at low tide. i'm not sure that we ever were out there or thought of it at low tide. were we?" the other girls did not know, but sarita suggested that they would not dare risk going among the rocks there in any event and the girls agreed with her. "dalton would go up in the air if we rowed in there, to say nothing of elizabeth," said sarita. "i'd like to _do_ it, girls," and peggy's tones vibrated with her suppressed energy. "much you would, if you once got inside and found that the whirlpool, or undertow, or what not, was no joke. promise me that you'll not try it." "oh, i'll not do anything of that sort without you girls. but if ever you do, i want to be along." "it is a bargain," laughed leslie, with no serious thoughts of its possibility. peggy had asked permission to stay at the eyrie if she were asked for supper, rather imagining that she would be, if chance took her there at the time. jack probably would be working with dalton until late. she welcomed, accordingly, the suggestion of their going out in the sea crest to take a look at the great bulk of the headland where it jutted out in its irregular masses over the waters that bathed its base. before leaving, however, peggy tarried behind to carry out an idea. it took the girls some time to climb carefully back to level ground and they took their own pace through the woods, or along the cliff, as fancy directed on their way back to the camp. they found jack and dalton perspiringly happy over their wood-chopping activities, for they were now trimming the trees of their branches and taking these to an open spot where they would dry for firewood. "don't take the sea crest," said dalton. "catch us a fish for supper, girls." "all right, we'll either catch or buy one for you boys. where's beth?" "haven't seen her this afternoon. she said that she was going to write to mrs. marsh. i went down to the village for her to get some groceries; so mind you have a good supper for your workmen, les!" "we will. i'll stop to see beth." at the camp they found beth bringing up her correspondence, which was such a waste of valuable time in this glorious spot, the girls thought. leslie and beth planned their meal, which was to be a good one, whether they caught a fish or not. peggy received her desired invitation before they descended the rocky way to where the row boat was moored. sarita had stopped at the tent to get her field glass. they looked rather longingly at the sea crest, but their purpose could be as easily accomplished in the swallow and there was a better chance of catching a fish for supper. leslie was in charge of the fishing tackle and prepared to lure some unwary denizen of the deep to its destruction. so sarita said, as she put her glass in a safe place and took the oars. the bay was calm and beautiful. this, after all, was their chief pleasure. rowing steadily, for there was really no time to waste if they caught any fish for supper they reached the spot immediately opposite pirates' cove and its frowning cavern. "see? there are a lot of water birds now," said leslie, pointing to some herring gulls that floated contentedly in the cove, not very far from the opening. "yes," said sarita, "but remember that they can lift their little feet and fly away from any wave or tugging below." letting her oars rest, sarita took her glass and began to scan the rocks above. "what's that sign up there?" she queried, her glass turned toward the left. "funny! i never noticed it before." sarita lowered her glass and looked at the girls. peggy was as sober as a judge, her eyes widening. "let leslie look first," she said, as sarita offered her the lenses. sarita put them into leslie's hand and she, too, expressed surprise. "there doesn't seem to be anything written on it," she remarked, still looking. "it is just a square white thing of some sort." sarita looked again and then offered the glass again to peggy, who did not try to keep from laughing now. "you little mischief!" leslie cried. "sarita, that is where we were this afternoon and peggy stuck something up there. what is it, peggy?" "oh, there was just a piece of pasteboard in the bottom of the basket and i had a brilliant thought. that is why i stayed behind and you had to call to me to hurry up. i just pinned our paper napkins on top of the pasteboard and then stuck it up. the first good wind will blow it down. i thought that we could tell from down here what was next to it, you know, and whether there would be any chance of getting around any further." "did you want our retreat discovered, peggy?" "i thought of that, but i imagine that people have climbed all over there before, don't you?" "very likely," leslie replied. "now be good children while i get ready to catch dal's fish." the boat had drifted a little, and peggy, who now was the only one with oars, looked mischievous as she allowed it to go just within the circle indicated by the chief buoy and one or two others. the other girls did not notice. sarita was scanning the cliff and leslie was engaged with the line. but they heard a hail and saw a boat approaching. "they'd better do all their calling before i begin to fish," said leslie, looking at the approaching boat. "that's bill and there's somebody else,--oh, it's tom! we haven't seen him for an age." tom was beckoning and leslie looked around to see what could be the matter. "peggy," she said; "child, you've gotten us inside the forbidden territory. pull out!" peggy did so without a word, but tom continued to pull toward them and came up smiling. "how do you do, miss secrest and--?" he did not mention the other names, but took off his cap in salute. "bill called my attention to you and i saw that you were in dangerous quarters, so i rowed over. see what luck we have had." tom displayed the fish in the bottom of their boat with pride, while the girls acknowledged the presence of bill with little nods and "how do you do's." he was not very responsive and one "how do you do, miss?" sufficed for all. "oh, tom!" exclaimed leslie, who felt that she knew the lad that had shown them how to run the sea crest. "couldn't we buy some of those fish? we're not doing it for fun this time. the boys are hungry for fish and dal doesn't have time to fish these days--he's so busy getting ready to build our log cabin." leslie cast a surreptitious glance at bill, remembering his warning to dalton. but bill was looking at sarita's glass, which she held loosely in her hand. "of course you can have some of our fish. we were going to sell them anyhow. it will be all right with you, bill, won't it? i'm working for bill now sometimes, miss leslie." bill had surlily nodded assent to tom's question, while leslie bent over eagerly to look into the other boat, now close beside them, and to select her fish. "kin ye see very fur with them, miss?" bill was now asking sarita. "oh, yes," she replied. "it isn't exactly like a spy glass, you know, but you ought to look at the moon with it some night when it's full!" sarita bid fair to start on her favorite fad now. "i noticed ye lookin' at the rocks. what wuz ye lookin' fur? do ye mind lettin' me look through 'em?" sarita handed over her glass immediately. "certainly you may use it," she said, though by this time it had occurred to her that bill's question might have some other ground than mere curiosity. but it would never do to show any reluctance. "i thought that i found an eagle's nest the other day, and i was looking for that first. then that forbidding old cliff is interesting anyway, don't you think so?" bill grunted some reply as he focused the lenses with no unpracticed hand. "somebody's tacked something up there," he said presently, the glass pointed in the direction of the "retreat." "i did that," said peggy. "that is to show our prowess. we've been climbing around about as far as we could go, i guess, and i was wondering if there weren't other places we could get to." this was very bold, sarita thought, to the man who was very likely the chief smuggler. but then, bill worked for mr. ives, she knew. "you'd better be keerful, miss peggy. fust thing ye know, ye'll miss yer footing and git drawed under in pirates' cove. here, tom, i guess she wouldn't mind if you took a look, too," and bill handed the glass to tom, who wiped his fishy hands first, then took it and looked through the lenses with deep interest. "no wonder you are crazy about the birds, miss sarita," said tom. "i can see every feather on that gull." "i ought to have showed you when we were all on the sea crest so much," replied sarita. "i was busy then," said tom. bill ritter now asked leslie if she had picked out the fish that she wanted. leslie then pointed them out and bill started to gather them up. suddenly the boat tipped a little. bill, stooping, seemed to lose his balance and fell against tom, unexpectedly. for _calamitas calamitatum_,--sarita's cherished field glass flew from tom's hand, seeking a watery grave just inside of pirates' cove. sarita gave a little exclamation. bill's boat righted. bill himself caught hold of tom, then of the seat, to place himself again, and the incident was ended so far as the final disposal of poor sarita's bird glass was concerned. tom gave an angry and startled look at bill, then began to kick off his shoes and pull off his old sweater. "what're you doing?" growled bill. "going down after her glass. you knocked it out of my hand! what did you mean by falling over me that way!" "i was trying to get their fish and put it over. stay in the boat! you can't dive here. you'll never dive deep enough to git it!" bill laid a detaining hand on tom, who was distressed. "oh, yes, tom," cried sarita. "don't go in after it. bill is right, and you didn't mean to do it!" "i should say i didn't!" exclaimed tom, struggling with a desire to pitch bill overboard. "i will get you some other good glass, miss sarita, as soon as i can. no, miss leslie, not a cent for the fish. that's the least we can do now. it was bill's fault, too. i'll be up at the camp to see you about this, miss sarita." seizing the oars, tom rowed furiously away, paying no attention to bill's growlings. "those squatters on ives' land have enough money to pay for our fish. that other girl picked three beauties and had her money out to pay for them!" meanwhile leslie, rather dazed by what had happened, picked up her oars and with peggy's help rowed quietly toward home. sarita sat idle, presently putting her face in her hands, while her shoulders heaved a little. peggy looked serious. "she cares a lot, doesn't she?" she said in a low tone to leslie. leslie nodded, her face also serious, and a frown between her brows. presently sarita dropped her hands and wiped her eyes a little. "i couldn't help a little weep, girls," she said. "you don't know the things i went without to save up for that field glass! but it doesn't do any good to cry. perhaps i can buy another some time. i can't let poor tom buy any. he is taking care of his old grandmother now, dal said. they live in one of the neatest cottages in the village, but tom has to make what they live on. dear me! think of the birds that i'm going to miss!" "sarita," said peggy, "i'm going to buy some glasses. i'll tell mother that sarita has gotten me simply crazy about birds and i must have some binoculars like what dad has, or some good field glasses right away!" peggy bent over her oars well satisfied with her plans, while the other girls looked at each other and at her with smiles. "what should we do without our peggy?" affectionately leslie inquired. "don't go too far, though, in saying how crazy you are about birds. stick strictly to the truth, honey." "all right, leslie. but i do like them and i want the glass awfully anyway. i'd lend dad's, only i don't suppose you'd want to use that. you can teach me birds, sarita, and we'll keep the glass at the eyrie, so dad will not find out. i'll use my own money if you would feel better." "please, peggy, don't do anything about it. i can get along. there are enough other nice things in this grand place! and please don't say a word about it at supper. i'll be able to enjoy the fun then. but if the boys know, they may talk about it and i don't believe that i can stand it just now." sarita's voice was quivering again. peggy spoke at once. "it's a perfect shame! don't worry. i'll not say a word at camp. besides,--i think that bill did that on purpose!" "i wonder if he did!" exclaimed leslie, looking at sarita. chapter xii elizabeth has an adventure it is not to be supposed that elizabeth secrest was not having as good a time as the rest of the party, or that her days were altogether spent in the work and play of the artist. in a delicious rest of mind and body she had quickly gained back her nervous energy. her camp life soon settled into a brief routine of daily duties, quickly accomplished with the help of the other girls, and into a rest and freedom from responsibility that she had not known for a long time. in this place of beautiful views and big spaces, worries seemed small. she often went alone to the beach, to walk up and down, sketch a little, pick up some newly deposited shell, or merely to sit, feasting her eyes upon the apparently limitless sea. one afternoon beth was perched upon a rock, near the place where sand gave place to rock and their headland. she was thinking of their log house, so soon to go up now. dalton was expecting the men on the following day. her back was toward the village and she was not conscious of anyone's approach until she heard herself addressed. "pardon me, madam, is this the ives' headland, and are these what are called steeple rocks? from appearance i should say that they are farther on, but my directions pointed here." beth looked around to see a young gentleman lifting his neat straw hat and regarding her rather seriously. he looked like any young business man from the city. "no, these are not steeple rocks. this is the sea crest headland," said beth, making up the name as she talked. "steeple rocks lie around the bay, or across it from here." "they are those large masses of rocks with the two towers, then." "yes. i call them cathedral rocks." "a good name." the young man smiled, looking at sea, rocks and sky, turning away from beth a little and putting his hands in his pockets, like a boy who has just found a good place to play. beth said nothing. he looked good, but beth was not in the habit of making acquaintance with strange young gentlemen. "i wonder if you would mind giving me a little information about this neighborhood. i have just come by boat and rail from new york. i might add auto, if one could so denominate the ancient ark in which i was transported to the village." beth laughed at this. "it must have been an ideal ride," she said. "we know all about that." "i wonder if you are not miss secrest." beth's interviewer hitched himself up on a projecting rock near her. "i shall not trouble you long, but you may be willing to give me some advice. i can not find a desirable place in the village to stay, that is, a desirable place which is not already full of tourists or town families. "i came prepared to camp, but my driver told me that i must get permission to camp in any of these woods and i was referred to the home of a man named bill somebody. i caught a glimpse of him and i passed the house instead of stopping! i thought i would stroll a while first. for some reason i was not prejudiced in his favor." a whimsical smile curled around the newcomer's lips. "bill seems to be the village type of ward boss and manager of the general situation. my brother found that out when he had occasion to inquire what sort of protection we might count on here. he found that there was none at all aside from such as this man and his friends might furnish." "indeed. have you had trouble?" "nothing very serious so far, but it is just as well for a stranger to know about this. it is a funny little village. i have sometimes felt that i ought to do something for some of the people whom i have seen there. some of the women are so hopeless looking. but my brother tells me to wait until we are better established. we are building a cabin." "i am sure that this is miss secrest, then. my name is evan tudor and i belong to that great army of aspiring writers that throng new york. while i am writing that best seller, you know, i am on a certain newspaper, and have another side line at times. "down at the dock a while ago i met a young fellow named carey, who told me that you owned the first woods up on the heights and that i might ask you for permission to camp there for the night at least." "yes." beth was hesitating. she liked the appearance of the gentlemanly stranger, but would it do to offer him a place to camp in their woods? "so, if your brother agrees, will you not consent? i make a neat camp and i will not set the woods on fire." beth looked into the smiling face of the earnest young man and returned his smile. he might be a help, indeed, if they needed a friend at any time. "we are not stingy about our woods," she said, "to any one who is careful. it is, i know, a fine place, because of the spring and good water. we expect some friends to camp with us later on in the summer. i think that i shall have to talk with my brother before i can say positively that you can make a real camp on our place, but surely for to-night we shall not refuse hospitality. did you say that you have your outfit ready? we might spare you some things." "thank you. you are generous and kind. it is quite a relief to have it settled temporarily. where shall i find your brother?" "he went out with our launch this afternoon, but he may be back at any time. you will probably want your equipment brought up by the road, not on the trail along the cliff. i can scarcely tell you now where to go, but you may select any spot that you like, if dal is not there, and someone can show you the way to our camp; whoever brings you up will know the direction. it is toward the cliff, in any event. i will be there, or at the eyrie, our little watch tower on the cliff." "young carey may bring my stuff, or get me some one," he said. "i will be at the camp or the eyrie in about an hour, i think." evan tudor smiled as he mentioned the eyrie, for he was thinking that the "dove-cote" would be a more suitable place for a pretty, gentle girl like beth. but people did not always recognize in beth's soft speech and ways of a gentlewoman her real energy and the fire of purpose which made it possible to do what she did. bowing his thanks, evan tudor left beth, treading quickly and surely close to the line of swirling foam, where the retreating waters were leaving the sand more or less closely packed. beth watched him naturally enough, as he was the only person on the beach except herself. he carried his hat and let the breeze blow his thick brown locks as it would while he strode along. if the young lawyer at home had seen the interest in beth's eyes, he would very probably have refused the opportunity which had just come to him to try an important case, and might have come to maine on the next train. mr. tudor was above medium height, slender, active, with a lean, attractive face and a pair of keen gray eyes which were to be employed with great effect during the next few weeks in the lines of a duty and interest. beth followed him with her eyes till he had left the beach for the village; then she rose to go back to camp. but she had another slight interruption before she reached the place where the secrest party usually climbed to the trail. rarely villagers were to be found on this part of the beach, unless it might be a few children gathering shells. now, however, an odd party was slowly advancing along the shore. two women with little shawls tied over their heads, long, full skirts and big shoes, were behind a few children who were shouting in their delight. the women were talking together and madly gesticulating as they talked. one of the peculiarly dressed children went too near the water and a wave which came in farther than the last one, as waves have a habit of doing, drenched the little one's feet. his mother, presumably, jerked him away roughly and spanked him soundly. beth halted a moment at that and eyed the woman with some disgust. but that was an ignorant woman's way of bringing up her family. as beth paused, one of the older children saw her and ran to show her a shell, probably attracted by beth's face. an elfin face, none too clean, looked up at beth, speaking a jumble of words in a foreign tongue. beth shook her head to indicate that she did not understand, but she smiled and patted the little shoulder. in a moment the motley group stood around her. as beth had picked up a handful of pretty shells when she first walked out upon the beach, she divided them impartially among the children. the mothers began to talk in guttural and foreign words, but beth replied in english, knowing that it would be useless to try french, the only foreign tongue in which she could speak at all. the women and children laughed, and one little chap spoke proudly, waving his hand around. "'merica!" he repeated several times. "yes, this is america and the united states," beth added. the child nodded. he understood that. beth turned to the women and inquired, "new york?" but they looked at each other and obviously did not understand. beth tried it again. "boston?" she asked, for she felt that they must have come in on some recent immigrant trip. again the women shook their heads. if they had docked at either new york or boston they had not learned the name of the port. the older boy who had spoken before was watching beth closely. he now pointed out to sea and said, "ship,--'merica." beth nodded, smiled and turned to go, with her inadequate words of farewell. but they understood the friendliness in beth's eyes and responded with more unintelligible words from the women and farewell shouts from the children, who went back to the swirling foam, or as near as they were allowed to go. more fishermen and their families brought to the village by bill, beth supposed. he must bring them directly from the immigrant ships,--or--another thought came to beth. what if these people had no right to be here! were they aliens properly coming in under the quota allowed by the government? perhaps bill brought in some of his fishermen illegally. "poor little kiddies," beth thought, "this is probably the first time that they ever played upon a beach!" when beth reached camp, she found that dalton and the girls had already returned. "i'm so glad that you are here, dal," said she, "for i don't know but i've done something that i ought not." "what has the head boss done," grinned dalton, "that she is willing to confess to a mere underling?" "underling--nothing! you are the protector of this camp." "come out, les, sairey,--and hear what our sister has to say for herself," dalton called. the girls came out from the tent with smiling faces, ready to hear some joke on beth. "what's beth been up to?" queried sarita. "has she made friends with the count? promised bill and mr. ives to leave these shores?" "worse," laughed beth. "i've rented camping space to a dangerously handsome young man. seriously, dal, if the young man i met on the beach just now is as good as he looks, it may not be a bad thing for you to have him somewhere near us while you build. but i made arrangements only for his camping in our woods to-night. you will have to decide the matter." "how old is he?" sarita inquired. "i'm sure i don't know. he is a writer, from new york, and must have come here as blandly ignorant of accommodations as we might have been. i think that he expected to find a suitable room for a night or two in the village. but he has all his camping outfit, i understand. tom carey must have directed him to us, from what he said." to her interested audience beth gave the details of her two adventures. leslie was more interested in the children than in the young man and asked all about the party. "funny that bill gets all these new immigrants," she remarked. "no, leslie," said her brother. "you see, bill ships fish by boat or rail and he can get these people to work for him for next to nothing. you ought to see the shacks they live in. i bet some of them wish that they'd never come to 'merica." "but at least they have enough to eat, catching fish," said sarita. "i doubt it, if they work for bill." "come, children, i must hurry," said beth. "there is a meal to cook and i promised to meet our boarder at the eyrie." beth put on an expression of great dignity. "ha!" exclaimed dalton. "do you girls realize what has occurred? never can we leave our sister unchaperoned again!" dalton linked his arm in beth's and began to stride around the camp with such long and exaggerated strides that beth, laughing, had to run to keep up with him. but when she told him that the stranger would really arrive by way of the wood, he stopped and more sensibly directed their way into it, while leslie and sarita not understanding what that move meant, waved a goodbye. "i'll walk with you a little way," said beth. "have you seen anything of peggy or jack to-day?" "not a thing. peggy was coming early, too, for i told them that i was taking a day off before my men came to work on the house and that we would take out the sea crest." "probably mr. ives has come home. peggy so cherishes coming here, or so she says, that she does not risk him forbidding her to come." "he knows all about it, though. didn't peggy relate what he said about disliking the 'intimacy' with us?" "yes, but that makes peggy all the more afraid that he will stop it. possibly he thinks that he will know what we are doing through her, however, though i can't imagine his getting much out of peggy unless she wants to tell. leslie worries about it slightly." "that is because it is not the sporting thing to accept a man's hospitality when one is opposing him. that is what bothers les when peggy takes her out in his launch or insists on her going around steeple rocks. after all, the hospitality is extended by peggy and her mother." "certainly, dal. but leslie and sarita are not 'opposing' mr. ives exactly, are they?" "i am not so sure that their search for the 'secret' of steeple rocks will not result in their finding mr. ives much concerned in something decidedly out of the way. by the way, the launch put out from the village last night, or early this morning. i was awake and i heard it. it had disappeared in a thick fog by the time i reached the rocks." "peggy herself seems to think that something is wrong," said beth, thoughtfully, "but our girls scent a 'mystery' chiefly, and sarita hopes to find some 'pirate gold.'" "much good that would do her if she found it at steeple rocks, and the ives have enough wealth as it is." chapter xiii "waves of burnished gold" before beth realized it she was some distance within the thick forest with dalton and she was just saying that she must go back, when they heard someone coming, off the scarcely recognizable trail, and struggling through bushes. dalton, called, "this way," thinking that it was probably mr. tudor. it was the young man himself, fortunately for his good suit of clothes, in which beth had first seen him, now attired in camping costume, with high leather buskins. "i missed the path, didn't i?" said he, smiling and pulling off his cap, "but i was pretty sure of the general direction toward the sea." "mr. tudor, this is my brother, dalton secrest," said beth. "he will help you choose a place for your camp." dalton held out his hand, liking evan tudor at once. "i'm glad to meet you, sir. if you are a writer, i suppose that you want a quiet spot?" "you are right; i should prefer to be back in the woods rather than near the shore. it will give me exercise to take a run to the ocean every day. but i want to thank you for allowing me to camp in your woods. i shall help protect it, i assure you." "i believe that you will, and we may need you, indeed. there is no reason why you should not stay as long as you like." evan tudor was surprised and delighted at this quick decision and told dalton that he should have no reason to regret it, while beth, seeing that her share in the affair was over, excused herself and went back to camp, though not before she had invited mr. tudor to be their guest at supper. "perhaps i will send the girls to call you after a while," she said. "i suppose that you will show him to some place not too far from the spring, dal?" "yes, beth." while dalton and mr. tudor went back along the poorly defined bridle path to the road, which came from the village to the wood, then took a great curve to avoid it, dalton explained that there would be some noise for several days while the men were putting up the log cabin, but that there was a good place for a camp of which he was thinking. "you will be surrounded by woods, though the spot is comparatively open, and if it is not too far from the spring you may like it. the little stream from our lake takes a turn there, and there are rocks on which your fires will be safe. indeed, you might use that water safely, for the lake is never polluted in any way. it is little more than a big pool, fed by springs and a tiny brook above." "that sounds fine, but are you not building near your 'lake'?" "not too close, though we are nearer the spring than we are at our camp. beth hated to leave the vicinity of the sea. but now she sees that it will be better to be closer to the water supply." mr. tudor asked a number of questions and seemed to be interested in the way to reach steeple rocks from the woods. he inquired, too, about who were spending the summer there, in such a way that dalton wondered if he had heard of the ives before. not knowing of any reason why he should not be communicative to this sincere appearing young man, dalton mentioned peggy, her mother and step-father, the count, the foreign governess and the guests. he even told him of mr. ives' request that they should leave. "i tell you this, mr. tudor, because you, too, may not be wanted here. i'd keep an eye out. have you any way of defending yourself? by the way, though, we'd rather not have any hunting done here." "i have no interest in hunting--animals, or small game of any sort," and evan tudor laughed. "but i am armed, after a fashion." evan tudor knew only too well that he would not be wanted, but he hoped to carry out the idea of a harmless writer on a vacation and to conceal his real purpose in coming. it was true enough that he was a writer, also that he needed a vacation. "is there anyone besides mr. ives who feels inhospitable?" he asked. "yes. a man whom they call bill interviewed me, too, and warned me to mind my own affairs around here. he has a lot of people fishing for him and ships the fish. i rather think that bill does a little rum-running, for there is much drinking in the village. bill may ship that, too, for all i know. you may have to convince bill that you are not employed by the government to detect rum-runners." "if bill inquires," said mr. tudor with a smile, "you may tell him from me that i am not a prohibition agent, though i might do my duty as a citizen in that line, if necessary. however, i've another purpose, and i'll mightily enjoy this woods of yours. "by the way, i'd like to interview some of those interesting foreign citizens in the village. the setting for them here is just a little more intriguing than in new york, for a change. a friend of yours down there told me a good deal about you. what sort of a chap is tom carey?" "oh, tom carey is straight and all right, if he does work for bill. bill has taken a notion to tom and i suppose he finds him smarter and more reliable than most of his workers. you will have to be careful if you interview those foreigners. bill may not like it." "i see. i'm to be careful about one mr. bill ritter." they were pushing through the woods as they talked. presently they reached the road where a man waited with a heavily-laden mule. evan tudor picked up a typewriter from the protection of some bushes and dalton gathered up a suitcase, which he saw by the side of the road, and a basket of what he judged were groceries. "it was quite a walk for you with these things," he said. "not so bad," said mr. tudor. "i had help and the mule carries the most of the outfit." it took almost as much time to get through the woods as to unload the outfit, but dalton assured mr. tudor that in the direction of their camp the woods would be found more open and that it was not as far as it seemed. evan tudor was delighted with the camping spot and started at once to set up his small tent and arrange his supplies. dalton began to help him, but the departing man, after he had received his pay, waited a few moments and then asked dalton to "walk a piece" with him. "i want to ask ye somethin'," he said. there was a twinkle in evan tudor's eye as he glanced after them. he hoped that dalton would establish what the modern youth sometimes calls his "alibi" and successfully divert suspicion; for evan tudor was on a quest. "say," said the man, as he and dalton had reached a spot out of hearing and dalton stopped, not thinking it necessary to go any farther. "say, bill wants to know what this chap is up to. is he any coast guard feller?" "bill came to see us when we first came, and i just told mr. tudor that bill was the high ruler of this little village and would very likely want to know about him. he laughed and said that he had nothing to do with catching rum-runners, or words to that effect. he is a writer looking for material and taking a vacation, i suppose. he just came from new york. "but i'm going to say to bill sometime that he is going a little too far. the way he does things around here makes any square people suspicious. i'm too busy right now to spend any time on fellows like bill ritter, but i am a good citizen of my country and i'm not _protecting_ that sort of thing, either. bill had better stick to fishing if he doesn't want to get into trouble some day." "i kinda thought you'd feel that way about it," said the man, "but you'll have to tell bill that. some of the rest of us don't like bill any too well, but--well, the kids has to have bread and butter. bill didn't tell me to ask was he with the coast-guard. that was my put-in. bill told me to find out what he was up to. see?" "well, now you know, and you can tell bill from me that i informed mr. tudor about unfriendliness shown us and told him to be on the lookout!" the man laughed roughly. "i will. sure he's a writer fellow all right?" "that is what he told me, and he talked like one. you noticed that he carried his little typewriter case, didn't you?" "was that what it was? i noticed that he parked it kinda careful." dalton felt that this conversation had not been in vain. he repeated it to mr. tudor, who was setting up a small heater and began to demur in regard to taking supper at the secrest camp. "it's an imposition," he declared. "i have plenty to eat right here." "sure you have, but what will beth think? moreover, we caught too many fish to-day for four people to eat up. better not refuse to come,--make it a celebration of getting into the woods on your vacation." dalton had scarcely stopped speaking when a feminine "hoo-hoo" sounded from the woods across the stream. leslie and sarita were calling them. "hoo-hoo," replied dalton in shrill imitation, and added, "we'll be there, girls; give us ten minutes longer here." evan tudor straightened up from his work to look across at the two smiling girls. introduction was impossible, but he raised his cap and smiled, standing "at attention," sarita said, till they were lost again among the green spruces and birches. the girls reported to beth what dalton had said and preparations went on accordingly. the big fish were baking in the outdoor oven which dalton had made. beth was stirring up some blueberry muffins, to be baked in the oven of the "portable." "we were stunned, beth," said sarita, "by the style and bearing of your latest conquest. not to be conceited at all, he looks like our kind of folks. let's see, what's that sweet poem? "'when i behold thy lovely face 'neath waves of burnished gold,'--what's the rest of it, les?" "that's all we ever did get, sarita. beth found us as we had just begun to read it off, dal and i." beth, her lips tightly pressed together to keep them from laughter, pretended to be deeply offended. "such girls! come, now, leslie, get out a glass of that jelly we brought from home and finish up the table." "it's serious, sarita," laughed leslie, still teasing her sister. "she is giving him our precious jelly!" "don't you really want to, leslie?" beth asked. "of course i do, silly. i know well enough that you are following mother's rule of the best for guests. where are the rest of those linen napkins? i suppose you will use those this time." "yes, if we have any. look in my trunk, top tray. if you can't find them, we'll just use the paper ones." but beth kept laughing at the girls, for when sarita suggested that mr. tudor was probably about forty, leslie corrected her to "i should say thirty, just right for beth, and poor jim writes that they can't come yet!" "i don't blame him for taking that case, do you, leslie?" "no, sarita, of course not, but what is it that shakespeare says about opportunity?" "perhaps mr. tudor is not as good as jim." "he is much more attractive, though i'd vote for jim now because he is such a good friend." "well you can't help whom you fall in love with or don't." "yes, you can. at least you can keep away from people you don't want to fall in love with, like some _fascinating bad_ man; but i suppose that you can't very well make yourself fall in love with _everybody_ that likes _you_." "i'm _so_ glad that i have you girls' wisdom and experience to guide me," demurely said beth, and leslie was just thinking up some brilliant reply when they saw dalton and their guest. but leslie managed to whisper to sarita before real introductions took place, "there's where jim will have to do his best, because beth doesn't care enough for him, if i'm any judge." courteously evan tudor met the two girls, but he actually seemed almost embarrassed about having accepted the invitation to supper. "really i think that it is enough to let me camp here, miss secrest," he said. "i finally persuaded him," said dalton, "by telling him that his 'name was already in the pot' and that it would upset all your arrangements if he didn't show up." "of course we would have been disappointed," cordially beth added. "now just excuse us a moment till we get up this camp meal." with her flushed cheeks and pretty smile, beth made a charming hostess and sarita whispered to leslie as they began to do a few last things, "for all beth says, he sees the 'burnished gold' all right." there was gay conversation and exchange of news during the good but very informal meal that camping made necessary. the secrests described the locality, in which evan tudor was so much interested and he, in turn, had bright accounts of his recent experiences in the great city. "i am going to forget it all for a few weeks," he said. "if i write here, it will be because i can't help it. i brought the old typewriter along for fear the 'best seller' might insist on being written; but all that i really expect to do toward my future profession is to fill a notebook or two for future use. well, i have one or two sketches to get off at once." "will you put us all in for 'characters' in your 'best seller,' mr. tudor?" sarita asked. "you might all figure in my fiction, but i'll not use you as 'types.'" "thanks. i'd be proud to be in one of your novels, but i'd rather not be a 'character sketch.'" "beth 'sketches' too," said leslie. "now, leslie, are you going to play the part of _l'enfant terrible_?" asked beth. "please don't mention my efforts!" "your brother has already told me that you are an artist, miss secrest. i wish that i might see how you interpret this place." quickly beth looked at evan tudor. he spoke of interpretation. perhaps he was one who understood. but voices were coming from the woods and mr. tudor turned to look in that direction. "hitch 'em anywhere, jack," they heard. it was peggy ives with her cousin. chapter xiv the new camper it could be easily seen that peggy was under some excitement. she almost sparkled as she ran into the little clearing, alone first, for jack was doing her bidding with the horses. she was wearing a new riding outfit and cried, "look at me, folks. don't i look grown up?" not a little was she taken back upon seeing the stranger, but she recovered herself quickly, especially as dalton rose and took a step toward her as if to protect her from criticism. gaily peggy extended her hand high, its fingers drooping. "congratulate me, dal," she said, "on some new clothes. we're having company,--but excuse me, beth, for rushing in this way." then she paused and waited to be introduced. "miss ives," said beth, formally and sweetly, as if peggy were as grown as she claimed to be, "you will be glad to meet mr. tudor of new york, a writer who is taking a vacation in our fine country." peggy stepped forward a little to offer her hand prettily and modestly, as she had been taught to do. "i am glad to see you, mr. tudor, and i am sorry that i interrupted your visit, but this is the first time that the eyrie has had company. "the great excitement, girls," she continued, looking at leslie and sarita, "is that we are having important guests and i can't get over having new clothes and part of the responsibility." evan tudor had said the few pleasant words of greeting that were proper when he met peggy, and stood by, interested. jack morgan now appeared, equally resplendent in riding togs that were new. he came forward as eagerly as peggy had done, but as he was not saying anything, he was not embarrassed when he observed the stranger. after jack had been introduced, he began to explain why they had not been over. "peggy and i have been trying to help my aunt with her plans. uncle is bringing down, or up, from wherever they are a prince and princess, a grand duchess or two and i don't know whom else for a sort of house party, i suppose. aunt kit had a telegram some time ago, but we just heard about it lately. then uncle wired that he did not know just when they could get together, but he would bring them in the yacht and everything was to be ready to entertain them in their accustomed style." "that might depend upon their recent fortunes, don't you think, mr. morgan?" mr. tudor asked. he was standing with his hands behind him, a little smile on his rather thin face. "european royalty has had rather a hard time of it in some countries since the war." "you are right. i imagine that the russian grand duchess doesn't find it any too pleasant at home." "in fact she could not stay there at all," said dalton, "if i know anything about it." "but probably mrs. ives' guests are not all exiles," mr. tudor added, open for information. "mother and dad met some of them abroad, i think," peggy volunteered. "and i think that count herschfeld knows some of them, and the kravetz, too." beth looked rather disapproving of peggy's reference to her governess and mr. tudor wanted to ask who the count and "the kravetz" were; but he thought it not in good taste to ask any more questions. peggy, however, explained. "the count, mr. tudor, is a sort of secretary for my step-father. do come over to see my things, girls. i shall have time to play around for several days. dad wrote that they would be here at the latest somewhere around the twenty-eighth, he thought,--oh, girls, that--" peggy had just thought. but leslie spoke at once. "indeed, we shall be over right away, peggy. would to-morrow morning be too soon? it is not very long till the twenty-eighth, is it, dal?" leslie looked soberly at her brother. "not very, les." "i wish that you would come, too, dal. you have never been over and mother was saying that she wanted to see the rest of the eyrie family." "i want to see your mother, too, peggy, but i'm too busy with the building, you see. bring your mother over here." "i will, when the company goes. but then, she always has somebody." peggy looked rather cross at the thought. "we'll ask your mother out for a little trip in the sea crest," beth suggested. "perhaps she will feel that she can run off for a little while." "i believe that she might," peggy replied. evan tudor had noted peggy's startled pause, and leslie's question concerning the date. he had a particular interest in matters here which he was not disclosing yet, but he welcomed anything which threw any light upon it. when peggy and jack went away after their short visit, he walked beside peggy's horse for some distance till it was necessary to strike off from the trail or bridle path to his own little camp. several notes went into his small pocket notebook that night before he went to sleep. he was inclined to go abroad to do a little investigating, but he decided that first he should get some familiarity with the woods and coast by daylight. it might be just as well, too, to have one good night's rest. he expected to have few before the twenty-eighth. early the next morning evan tudor was at the roadside, waiting, and who should come to meet him there but tom carey, who then rode to the town at the railroad and sent a telegram, written at length, and signed e. t. it was very innocent and related to a certain article which would be ready for the press to meet the editor's date. "are you deeply engaged in the affairs of a certain man here named bill?" evan tudor facetiously asked tom, as he handed him the written message. "no, sir. i catch fish for him," said tom. "i might be doing something else, perhaps, if he meant some things that he said to me, but what i do i do in the open." "do you know what it is that bill meant?" "no; i thought that it was liquor, but i am not so sure now." tom dug his shoe into the turf by the side of the road with a troubled face. "would you consider finding out for me, if i should take you into my employ without interfering with your work for bill? indeed, that would be a part of it." tom looked up quickly. "you are after bill!" "i am not sure that i am at all. something is wrong up here. can i count on you not to betray me?" "yes, sir. something _is_ wrong up here. i've got to stay here with my old grandmom that has been here all her life, and i'd like to see somebody beside bill running things." "i picked you yesterday, from something you said," mr. tudor continued. "i am taking quite a risk to tell anyone that i have a quest here, but i shall need someone, and i happened to find that i need you right away. i made this appointment with you not knowing that i should have to send this telegram, but i hoped to secure your services. i _did_ expect to enjoy a little fishing, but i suppose that i shall have to keep up my writing a while, to give you the excuse of bringing fish to me every day. tell bill that the writing chap has ordered fish, shrimp, lobster, anything that you get particularly fine and every day. i mean to write, too,--but not _all_ the time." this mystery appealed to tom, whose eyes sparkled. "you can count on me, sir. prob'ly bill will charge you fancy prices, though." "that is all right, and i'll pay you, too. it's going faster than i thought. sure you can carry it off so that bill will not suspect? it's all right for you to show an interest in me, of course." "i've kept more than one thing from bill already, sir." "don't forget, then." tom carried the telegram into the station with an air of great indifference, as he happened to see a man who worked for bill, in fact one of bill's chief henchmen, on the platform. "h'lo, tom. wot'e ye doin' here?" "what ye doin' yourself?" tom was grinning. perhaps it would do no harm to let the man see the telegram. it would be better at any rate than to make any mystery over it. he went right ahead about the business of sending off the message, making out the blank and stuffing the original paper, scribbled by evan tudor, into his pocket. but the man was waiting curiously at the door. tom hoped that it was mere curiosity that moved him. "wot's the matter? any of yer folks sick?" "no. i'm sending a message for somebody else, the new man that came in yesterday. i s'pose everybody in town knows--" "say, wot was it about? bill was kinda suspicious las' night." "bill's always suspicious," laughed tom. "read it yourself." tom pulled the mussed paper from his pocket. "the man's on some paper. abner said that he wouldn't let anybody carry his typewriter but himself yesterday." "that so?" the man scanned the paper. "lemme show this to bill?" "i don't know whether i ought to give it to you or not. there's nothing private in it, i suppose, but he paid me to bring it and i was to ask whether there was any message for him. suppose he asks me about this?" "_was_ they any message fer him?" "no." "well, i don't want it anyhow. i kin remember if bill asts me." but bill was not quite satisfied with the report of his henchman. he decided to see himself what the "young chap was up to," as he had done in the case of the secrests. evan tudor was quite pleased with himself that he was running his typewriter at top speed, under the trees in his chosen retreat, when a rough man appeared before him with a "hello." "good morning sir." evan looked up from his improvised seat on a boulder. "too fine a morning to waste this way, isn't it?'" "might just as well stay in the city if you have to write." "just what i was thinking. but i don't know. this is a pretty good place to think; and i don't intend to keep it up after i get this off by mail, and maybe one or two other things out of my system." "hunting a quiet place, then?" "yes; but it is partly for a vacation, too. aren't you the man who runs a lot of the fishing around here?" "yes. how did you know?" "i think i saw you in the village, and someone told me. i got hold of a boy that works for you and i told him to bring me something every day, fish, shrimp, your choicest of anything. can that be done?" "yes, but you will have to pay for it." "all right. want a little pay in advance?" "no objection." "don't cheat me, then." evan tudor's tone was not one which would give offense, rather one inclined to banter. he felt in his vest pocket and took out a folded bill, for five dollars. "that all right?" "we'll do the best we kin fer ye." bill pocketed the money. this chap was easy. "say are ye a friend of them secrests? you was eatin' there last night." "certainly i am a friend of theirs, though i never saw any of them before last night. and i don't like that, mr.--" not recalling bill's name mr. tudor paused for a moment. "that looks a little as if i were being spied on. are there any parties around here from whom i may need to protect myself?" evan's eyes flashed. bill's eyes fell. he was used to taking the initiative in threats. this was something new for him. "if ye mind yer own business, i reckon ye needn't be afraid of nobody." "that is good. i'll not be, but it is just as well in a new country to be ready, i suppose. how are the village people about talking to strangers? i want a little material in the line of characters and i may wander among those interesting shacks a little. will they throw me out?" mr. tudor's face wore a whimsical smile. "they might. i wouldn't advise ye to git too smart around here." bill sauntered off. he had come from the direction of steeple rocks, mr. tudor noted. he smiled to himself as he started the typewriter once more. he was _paying_ bill, bill the chief sinner, aside from _those who paid him for doing what he was doing_. evan tudor spent the rest of the day in spying out the land. he searched the woods, finding it a glorious grove of beautiful trees and interesting growths of bush and fern. he had the love of a scientist for the different phases of wild life and spent some time over curious flowers, taking a list of those he knew for future use in some setting of a story. toward dark, he entered the ives' land and after dark he wandered around steeple rocks, feeling justified in the intrusion, for his quest was a trust. but as it grew late he hurried back to his tent, for he rather expected that some watcher would know whether he spent the night in his tent or in "snooping." he thought that so far he had escaped observation since evening fell. and after all, an early trip about would be only natural to a newcomer. evan tried to put himself in the place of the evildoer, suspicious, fearful, and he wished at first to allay those suspicions. as he approached his tent, he thought he heard a rustle in the bushes. he put a tree between himself and the noise, but hummed a little. a shot in the dark would be possible, but scarcely likely. bill would be the first one to be suspected, and bill, whether able to prove an alibi or not, did not want any investigating authorities. so reasoning, young tudor boldly walked to his tent, turned his flashlight inside of it and finding it empty, except for his undisturbed possessions, entered, lit a candle and prepared for the night. he lay awake for some time, a little uncertain whether or not he might be the intended victim of some attack. he was ready but nothing happened. no suspicious noise of any human source disturbed him. finally he had to fight to keep awake, but when the stirring of the birds denoted the dawn, he fell into a deep slumber and slept far into the morning. chapter xv more discovery there was early rising at the eyrie on the morning after they had shared their supper with the new camper. jack arrived from steeple rocks even before the men who were to help dalton, and wore his working clothes. he reported that peggy was up, expecting the girls at any time, but he drew leslie aside, as he sometimes did, to tell her the developments at steeple rocks. leslie was glad that sarita was still getting ready, for sarita was inclined to tease her over jack's preference. it was clear that jack valued leslie's opinion on affairs at least. "my aunt is nervous and worried, leslie," said jack. "she announced this distinguished company about to arrive, but does not seem certain just when they will arrive. the kravetz is back, but disappears for a long while and pays no attention to peggy. i overheard her say to mrs. ives that it was absurd to dress up peggy to help entertain '_for so short a time_.' then my aunt said that she intended to have someone of her own right at hand, and she said it almost in a tone of desperation. the kravetz sometimes has an air of dictating to my aunt that i have wondered about. "aunt kit said 'all my own friends have been sent away on one excuse or another and i have this lot of foreigners to entertain _again_, half the time without my husband, i suppose!' "'he will be here,' the kravetz said, 'and the count and i will help you.'" jack laughed. "the kravetz got up and went into the house, and aunt kit, who knew that i was in the hammock, came right over to me. 'jack,' she said, 'if i ever needed my own people it's now. promise me that no matter how insulting madame kravetz or anyone may be, you will stay around.' so of course i promised, though if i get scared out at 'royalty' i may come here and bring peggy any time. peg, though, is all keyed up and tickled over her new clothes. it will be all right if i escape to the eyrie, will it?" "you know that it will, jack," said leslie heartily. "do you know who any of them are?" "no, not by name. i supposed that they were people of title that my aunt and uncle met abroad; but from something she said i think that they are people whom she has never met at all. yet she spoke of entertaining them 'again.' how do you account for that, leslie?" "perhaps she has had to entertain a different lot of them some other time," said leslie. "i expected you to say that. i rather think that she has, and if they are like the kravetz, well, good-night!" leslie laughed at jack's expression, but jack looked around to see that no one was near and bent to say something low into leslie's ear. "jack!" she exclaimed, as if startled. then she looked into his eyes. "jack, you've got it! that must be the matter over there,--and your aunt suspects it, but isn't sure, or else,--" leslie broke off, for sarita was coming. they both turned with smiles and leslie said, "jack was just telling me of all the excitement over the guests that are coming. he does not appreciate it at all and would rather help build log cabins, i guess." as dalton came up to claim jack, the girls started toward steeple rocks. sarita led the way, partly by the woods, but they decided to enter the grounds near the cliffs and sarita suggested visiting the "retreat," or peggy's little eyrie. they found the rocks slippery from the mist, but the more cautious leslie followed sarita's lead and they reached the cave without accident. "that was a bit risky, sairey," she said. "we'd better come here when it is dry." but sarita hushed her and reminded her that they had come to see if they could notice smoke again. stooping, they went as far back as they could and sarita observed that a piece of rock was loose at the hole where peggy had been tempted to crawl in. she knelt and tugged at it, without any particular purpose except that of general investigation. to her surprise, it gave way and she nearly fell backward, losing her hold upon the rock, which rolled in the other direction, instead of out, though it seemed to stop with a bump against something. sarita looked up at leslie with a comical expression as she straightened herself and leaned forward to the opening again. she was about to say something, when to the girls' surprise they heard an exclamation, "what is that?" someone asked. both girls instinctively drew back and put their fingers to their lips in warning to each other. but what they next heard they placed more as if the sound were conveyed through a speaking tube in this curious place. another voice was answering. "rocks fall once in a while. there's quite a crack by you. it's more or less honeycombed, but there is no danger here." "i see. i noticed a little draught when i lit my cigaret." more followed, but the persons speaking were not in the proper position now for more than a murmur to be heard. "how _lucky_ that we didn't say anything near that hole!" whispered sarita, as both girls withdrew toward the entrance. "do you suppose that anything we _have_ said here has been heard?" "i scarcely think so. something would have been done about it, you know. it looks as if the secret of steeple rocks were nearly ours, sarita, doesn't it?" "it certainly does. wait. i'm going back a minute." sarita knelt again at the opening and thrust her head within, to leslie's disapproval. she followed her, catching hold of her dress and looking at the rocks above her to see if any more had been loosened. she was relieved when sarita drew back again. "too dark to see anything, leslie," she reported when they were outside. they covered the rest of the way to peggy's house with very little conversation. "that was a stranger," sarita commented. "the other voice was like the count's," said leslie. "shall we tell peggy?" "i suppose so," said leslie doubtfully. she was thinking about that. what jack suspected she would keep to herself for the present, but peggy had a right to know the secret of her retreat. peggy was delighted to see them and took them to her room for what she called the "gorgeous display," some very pretty but suitable frocks for a young girl about to mingle with others who had them. "it is going to be quite a house party," peggy said, "and a few of them may stay for some time, mother says. it's awfully interesting, though 'royalty' doesn't mean so much any more. we had a princess once while we were in florida and she had wonderful jewels. mother thinks that there is one girl about my age. you simply must come over, girls!" "clothes, my dear peggy. wouldn't we look great to a grand duchess, in this rig, for instance?" leslie turned slowly around, with the air of a fashion show model, displaying a sweater much the worse for wear and her oldest gym bloomers. "i really meant to put on something better, like sarita, but i thought that i could sneak up to your room without your mother's seeing me, and we want to go out in the boat afterwards, or we _did_ want to go." "i mind the maids more than i do your mother," laughed sarita. "the last time, you should have seen the scorn with which your mother's maid looked at me." "pooh! what's the difference? you girl's always look like somebody nice, no matter what you have on. jack says so, too. but what has happened to change you about going out in the boat? is it going to be bad weather?" peggy glanced toward the window, where sunshine was driving the mists away. "mercy no! it's going to be a _wonderful_ day. leslie, tell peggy what we heard. it's a great discovery, peggy." peggy threw across the bed her most cherished frock which she had saved for the last to show them, and clasped her hands together in her eagerness to hear what had happened. they all sat down together on peggy's low day bed, a pretty wicker affair which stretched at the foot of the other bed. peggy was in the middle. a background of silk and fluffy chiffon and tulle behind them set off the three heads bent close together, as the girls related in whispers what had occurred. peggy was delighted, with little thought of what the discovery might imply. "then there _is_ a cave somewhere! girls, we have simply _got_ to find it! will you go back there now with me? i'll call pugs, to hang up the things, and get into my knickers and sweater in a minute!" peggy's maid came into the room while the girls were still waiting for peggy to scramble from one costume into another. she tried to smile and help peggy, but the girls could see that she had been crying. peggy explained as soon as they started out. "i didn't know that dear old pugsy cared that much for me. i've been a lot of trouble to her. but honestly, she's almost a part of the family to mother and me. perhaps mother can get out of it, but dad says that pugsy's got to leave. i must have a maid that speaks french now! if it were mother that wanted it, i could understand, but what does dad care whether i speak french or not?" "it will be fine when you travel," said sarita. but leslie, thinking of what jack had said, wondered if mr. ives did not want to employ another foreigner instead of "pugsy." a dark-browed maid who was dusting in the hall looked at them in none too friendly a way. even sarita spoke of it afterward. but peggy paid no attention to their surroundings as they left the house behind and darted past flower beds and masses of shrubbery on their way to the rocks. once there, peggy viewed the hole and was duly impressed. she had brought a flashlight, which disclosed nothing but rock beyond the hole, with a slight descent to where the loose rock had rolled. granite walls and an arching ceiling were above. leslie knew that it was foolish for all of them to enter, though sarita declared that never a rock could fall on them. nevertheless the prospect was so tempting that leslie crawled in after the others. there was at least good air within. they hoped to find a passage to the cave whence the voices had come; but after a short distance, which they could cover without stooping, they were stopped by a granite wall as hard as the rest of steeple rocks. there was a deep fissure, however, and there they could feel a decided draught. the light turned off, they sat down to listen. perhaps they could hear something more, if the people were still in the cave. peggy suggested that perhaps they had heard the count and someone back in the office. "i feel pretty sure that they have something back in the rock," whispered she, "perhaps a real cave, and more than just dad's safe." but leslie shook her head. "i may be mistaken, but i think that this came from below." as if to confirm her words, there came the sound of conversation, a mere murmur at first, then a few words very loudly conveyed by this queer speaking tube which nature had provided. the next were fainter, and then there was the murmur. "he's walking around," leslie suggested. peggy had a picture of someone restlessly pacing a cave. "well, i hope that ives will hurry up this house party. i'm certainly sick of staying here. how do i make up as an english lord, bill?" a hoarse laugh was the answer to this, but bill was not standing so close to the fissure, it was obvious. "and how am i going to get out of this?" "same way you got in, by boat and at night." "why can't i leave in the daytime if you can?" "well, in the first place, you wouldn't care to play the fisherman, i think, the way you look now, or to stay in one o' the shacks with the rest o' the crowd. i kin take you out to-night, if you want to go, but what i'm going to do now is to swim under water a ways. want to try it?" "no thanks. but i'll join the rest to-night. a little dirt on my face will make it all right, and i'd rather be with folks than in this terrible place." "a little timid, huh?" "i'll show you whether i'm timid or not!" the girls were breathless, wondering what was going to happen, but the ferocious bill was evidently possessed of soothing powers. "no, now there ain't no call to git excited. there's going to be enough people here when the schooner comes in." "yes," sarcastically said the other man. "you're going to make enough money to give up fishing by that time, aren't you?" "i might if they wasn't others i had to divide with," growled bill. "you pay attention to yer own affairs. you got it fixed with ives about yerself?" "yes." the girls heard peggy gasp, but the voices were not sounding as if either man were very near the "steeple rocks speaking tube," as leslie began to call it. probably peggy would not be heard. for some little time the girls sat still, in uncomfortable positions, but they heard nothing more. peggy was the first to jump up, and by the light of the flashlight which she carried, they all found their way back to the opening and crawled out. "i forgot to look, girls," said leslie, "to see if there were other rocks that could get loose outside, and after we were in there, listening to bill and that other man, i began to think what if a rock fell down and closed up this hole!" "we could have called down the speaking tube, leslie," sarita suggested. "yes," said peggy, "and have bill see that we stayed in there forever! 'sad loss of three bright young people at steeple rocks', would be in the paper." peggy was so funny as she said this that leslie and sarita both laughed, though the subject was far from laughable. peggy was frowning now. "let's go right now and tell jack," she said. "i certainly heard enough about dad, didn't i?" neither leslie nor sarita replied to this question, for they knew that peggy did not expect comment. they were helping each other around the jutting part of the cliff now and did not resume conversation until they were on the path. then peggy cried, "oh, girls! i was going to watch to see where bill came out, weren't you?" "yes," said leslie. "i thought of it when bill said that he was going to 'swim under water a ways.' what possessed us? but, after all, we could not have seen anything from the retreat. come on; let's climb down sort of near your yacht dock, peggy. perhaps we can see bill come out of the water yet." this was no sooner said than done. as quickly as possible, the girls found a spot which would command most of the shore around the bay. the girls looked over the surface of the cliff, as they had done many times before, without finding any opening. "if he has to swim under water, the cave _must_ be at the bottom," said leslie, decisively, "and the only place, girls, where a boat could go in, is in pirates' cove!" "then bill will swim out there and get to the rocks outside on _this_ side,--unless he has a boat tied in the channel." "i think that it would be too great a swim to the channel, unless it would be right near our dock around there, and bill would run the risk of mother's coming down to the beach or of somebody's seeing him from the house." "your mother wouldn't be surprised to see bill there,--not very, would she, peggy?" "perhaps not. let's get up a step higher. we can look over these rocks then, and duck down if bill should come out anywhere near the dock. _then_ we shall have to scamper up and out of sight as quickly as possible." in spite of peggy's evident chagrin at the implications about mr. ives in the conversation which they had overheard, she was enjoying the excitement, leslie could see. there might be some compensations for peggy, leslie thought, in the discovery of mr. ives' operations, if it led to her freedom from their shadow. but would it? what ought to be done now? she must tell jack at once,--so much was clear. but it might be even dangerous for anyone who interfered. could jack and peggy keep their knowledge from mr. ives and that household of suspicious foreign servants? the more leslie thought, the more undecided she felt. for some time the girls waited uneasily. perhaps bill had gone, or perhaps he was taking some time, making ready for the "enough people" who were to be there when the "schooner" came in! probably they would miss him altogether. no! there he was! peeping over the rocks, the girls caught each other's hands in their excitement. bill came up out of the water and shook it from him like a big mastiff. he looked around hastily to see if he were observed and the girls kept very still. sarita and leslie, indeed, ducked behind the rocks, but peggy, who had taken a black silk handkerchief from her neck, wrapped it about her head and kept on looking. it was not very likely that bill would see them, yet he might if he looked above on his way over the rocks from those at the base of steeple rocks, where he had emerged from the cove waters. peggy gave the word to start up. "he's going over the rocks now. stoop low and you'll get to the top in a jiffy! he'll only hope that we haven't seen him, if he does see us. but it isn't so wonderful for a person to go in swimming anywhere here." chapter xvi the dilemma from the rocky steps where they had been watching the return of bill ritter, leslie, sarita and peggy plunged into the woods as soon as possible and by that more devious route reached the secrest camp. they were rather surprised to find it not yet ten o'clock, but they had spent much less time with peggy, at what she called her fashion show, than they had expected. then the time spent in the retreat and in waiting for bill's appearance must have been much less than it seemed. when they reached the new clearing on the slight rise of ground not far from the spring, they found dalton and his men hard at work and dalton jubilant over the prospect of speedy building. beth was sitting on a pile of logs making a sketch of the place and the workers, "for us to remember how it looked," she said. dalton dropped his work to join the girls and look at the sketch. "pretty good, sister," said he. "do you know i've a great notion to plaster this house and stay here through the winter." "what do you mean, dal,--stay _alone_, or no school for any of us?" the tone of the surprised beth was not as reproving as dalton might have expected. "no school for anybody," asserted dalton, though he had really not thought this out before. "it would be the best thing in the world for you, beth, and think what snow scenes you could immortalize with your pen, pencil and brush!" "ridiculous boy!" "oh, let me board with you instead of going to florida. i never _have_ had any winter sports!" peggy's voice was coaxing. "we'll have skiing down the hills, that hill where you saved my life, dal,--and skating, and ice-boating and everything on the bay!" even leslie and sarita, who were more interested in lessons than peggy, brightened at the thought. "poor me!" exclaimed sarita. "i'd have to go home and miss it all!" "vacation, sarita," suggested peggy, "the christmas vacation." "we'll skate on our little lake, peggy," said dalton, "as if it were already decided, and we can have a dog-sled to take us to town,--" "crazy!" laughed leslie. "but, beth, i believe that dal is in earnest." "wait till he has fires to make some morning when it is below zero, ice to break, water to carry and everything frozen up." "not much worse than a furnace to take care of, beth," said the man of the house. "we'll have a big fireplace in one room and a big heater somewhere, a shed full of coal, and wood on the place,--think it over. i've got to work." whistling a little, dalton went back to help and direct. "dalton just loves this," said leslie, "but look, beth, here comes mr. tudor." with a salute to everybody, evan tudor stopped first to speak to dalton, then joined the other group with greetings. peggy, remembering her impulsive entrance of the previous day, bowed sweetly, but with dignity, while leslie asked if he had been annoyed by the sounds of building so early. "i slept as if i should never waken this morning and i have only just eaten my breakfast. there must be something in this air, as advertised! i prowled around a while last night, enjoying the woods and the shore. at this rate, it looks as if you would have a house up in no time." "they will," said peggy, "and dal is planning to make it so they can stay all winter." peggy looked wickedly at beth. evan tudor looked surprised, but said, "it would be very beautiful here in winter." "i'd like to try it once," said leslie, "but not unless the whole family wanted to do it, for beth might get pneumonia and then we'd be in a pretty pickle!" "it would be lovely here, with the ice and snow," beth acknowledged, relenting a little, "and i seldom ever take cold. i'd have to watch the rest of you to see that you were not careless." "oh, beth," cried peggy, assuming her own presence, "we'd fish through the ice, and leslie and i would do the cooking!" then leslie and sarita did laugh, for peggy could not cook anything and had confessed the fact before. "well," peggy continued, answering their thought, "couldn't i _learn_?" at this point beth glanced at her wrist watch and asked if a short trip in the sea crest would not be possible before lunch, in order to show mr. tudor the bay and the rocks. "if we should be late, dal will make the hot coffee for the men. they bring their lunches, but we give them something hot, and i have everything ready, beans all cooked and some meat." everybody thought this a good plan, especially as they could take peggy home by launch and jack, if he thought best. otherwise, jack could have beans and coffee with dalton. but jack decided to go with them, for peggy privately informed him that she must consult him about something. on the way to the boat, beth exhibited the eyrie to mr. tudor, while jack, leslie, and the other girls went on down the rocks to get the launch ready and start the engine. none of them were disappointed by any lack of enthusiasm on the part of their guest, for though evan tudor was not particularly voluble in his speech he gave the impression of not missing any practical or inspirational detail in the comments which he made. after the start mr. tudor sat or stood with beth, who pointed out the sights, while jack at the wheel listened to what the girls had to tell him with peggy as chief spokesman. he made little comment at first and the impatient peggy urged him, saying, "well, jack, why don't you go 'up in the air' about it?" "it is too serious, peggy. i don't think that you know just how serious it is. that fake english lord in the cave only proves what i have been suspecting." "_what_ have you been suspecting, jack?" "i'd rather not say, peggy. suppose we wait a little. i am thinking that about the twenty-eighth we may find some others of the same sort, only pretending to carry out the house party idea with your mother, and then some that are very likely real titled exiles." "but why would they do that? why should this man hide away? is he afraid of somebody? and why should dad let him hide there? just what is it that dad is doing?" "i am very much afraid, peggy, that your step-father is helping these people into the country against the law, and probably for a good price. i hope that it is the count who is doing it,--that is, i have been hoping that, with uncle's just letting him use the place and entertaining as his guests only some people brought here in his yacht that really have a right to be here. but i think now that the yacht is a blind and that everybody will come in on the 'schooner.'" "oh!" peggy began to understand more clearly. "shall i tell mother, jack?" "no. i've got to find out _what_ to do." but as it happened, neither jack nor peggy nor any of the secrests decided what was to be done; and it was better so. the little cruise was delightful. troubles seemed far away after they gave themselves to the lure of the water and sky and the motion of the boat. even peggy, who had at first been startled and distressed at jack's clear statements, seemed to forget and joked as usual with the girls. leslie was thoughtful, wondering what their duty was. it was not pleasant to have such a problem presented to them. evan tudor, who could run a launch quite well himself, was entirely content to be a passenger, visiting with the pretty artist and forgetting his quest in these parts, except to fix in mind the location of steeple rocks and pirates' cove. he intended to go out in a row boat to investigate that region. jack and peggy were left at the dock in ives bay, while leslie took the wheel for the homeward trip. this they made quickly, landing in time for beth to superintend the hot lunch. mr. tudor was invited to partake, but he thanked beth and declined, saying that he had work to do and that his late breakfast made a late lunch desirable. for leslie and sarita it had been a full and surprising morning. after lunch was over, with its work, they found a quiet place apart where they could discuss the present dilemma. chapter xvii pirates' cove bill's men, out in the boats, reported to him at noon the short trip of the sea crest and the passengers upon it. bill accepted the report, thinking that the "writin' feller," if he liked the girl who made pictures and kept himself to his work and his visits with the secrests, was probably harmless so far as bill's pursuits were concerned. he dispatched tom carey with an excellent choice of fish, which he could leave at the tent if the man had not returned. but tom chose to wait for mr. tudor. "hello, tom," evan tudor called, as he approached his tent and saw tom stretched out on a rock by the stream. "have you been waiting long? you might have left the fish, but i'm glad that you did not. anything to report?" this last was in a lower tone, after he had jumped across the stream by its little stepping stones to the rock where tom now stood. "yes, i have. here are the fish." "good. those are fine. bill must think that i have an appetite, but then i did not limit the quantity and the more delivered the better business for bill." "yes, sir," grinned tom. "i didn't expect to have any news for you so soon, but bill is about sick to-day, having a chill or something. so he wants me to take a boat, go to pirates' cove, row into the cave and bring out a man." "what?" evan tudor was a little puzzled. "i thought, from what i have been told that it was not safe to go into the cove at all. miss secrest just spoke of it on a trip that they took me around the bay and through the channel to ives bay." "yes, sir. i was there when a man told bill about your being with them." tom and evan tudor exchanged glances. "miss secrest told me quite a tale of disappearances and of the danger where that opening occurs." "yes, sir; that is what is generally thought around here. but my grandmother has always laughed to me about it, and she remembers the time when people used to visit the pirates' cave." "then probably smugglers built up this tale for their own purposes." tom nodded assent. "i've told you how bill wants to get me into all this, and get some hold on me, you know. if you weren't here i'd never do it in the world, but i've pretended to listen to what he says about 'making good money.' i don't know why he doesn't have someone else go, unless it is dangerous and they will not do it, or there is some smuggled stuff that he can't trust them with, or he just wants to get me into it. i'm not afraid to go, and it is a good chance to find out." "don't risk anything on my account, tom; but if you think it safe to go, i shall be among those rocks somewhere with a boat. call if you are in any danger. i am a good swimmer." tom, rather glad that there would be help at hand if any were needed, went away and mr. tudor examined his fish. soon they were cooking over a good fire, while a well satisfied young man watched them and made more plans. this was a great opportunity. he would visit the cave after tom and the man had left. there was a possibility of there being others in the cave, but he would risk that. it was not very likely. perhaps tom could let him know in some way if there were, though no signal had been agreed upon. indeed, he must keep out of sight. evan tudor did not know, of course, that he would not be the only watcher that night. the only decision that the girls and jack had been able to make was that of immediate action in seeing bill take out the man whose voice the girls had heard through the "speaking tube." it would never do to miss that. leslie thought that perhaps peggy would want to give up their plan after hearing jack's plain statements. but the last thing that she said before the sea crest left her and jack at their dock was, "now don't forget to-night!" peggy still loved mystery. more than once peggy afterward remarked to dalton, with whom she became so very, very well acquainted, that it was funny how the different people who were engaged that night in pirates' cove affairs had no knowledge of each other. bill's man escorted tom part way, but did not know about tom's relation to mr. tudor. the pretended nobleman had no idea how near discovery he was. the ives-secrest group knew nothing about mr. tudor and he knew nothing of their interest or presence at first. peggy and jack decided that rather than steal out of the house late at night it would be better to go out openly for a row to the eyrie, early in the evening. peggy's mother would assume that they had returned, they hoped, for mrs. ives was concerned about other things. their plan was to return with the girls and hide among the rocks in the channel, where there was a view of the cove. about the time the last boats were going in they would quietly row out from the eyrie. this plan was carried out. it was about one o'clock when a boat came into the bay from the sea, and after reaching quiet waters, edged around into the channel. naturally leslie did not know that it was their own swallow, borrowed from beth and dalton by mr. tudor, though he had not come for it till long after the first party had left the eyrie. sarita had gone to sleep, lulled by the gentle rocking of their boat, for the wait seemed long. her head was on leslie's shoulder, but she was startled awake when peggy clutched leslie and whispered, "oh, who is this? one of bill's spies?" "sh-sh," jack warned. but it would not be easy to see them among the shadows of the rocks, and presently they saw the boat no longer as it gently glided farther within the channel, and none too soon for its occupant, for two more boats, rapidly rowed, approached the mouth of the cove. in one was tom, who was given final orders and directions by the man in the other boat. bay and cove were comparatively calm. the night, too, was clear so far, bright with stars and a late moon, a condition good for the watchers, but not so favorable to any underhand project. the girls located the dark opening into the cave and watched tensely. the one boat waited at the rocks which marked the beginning of the cove. tom's boat entered the cove and went straight across to the mouth of the cave, with only one exception, when tom avoided a foaming, restless stretch where some hidden rocks lurked like scylla of old. "look! he's gone right on in," said leslie, "without a bit of trouble!" "wait till you see if he ever comes out again," sarita returned, for she still more than half believed in the old story. "if he does and they get away all right, let's go in, too," peggy suggested, a wild desire to see the inside of that cave taking possession of her. they could take the same course. that boat had kept steady, unharmed, not tossed about by any current or whirlpool. "it would be safe enough," said jack, looking at his watch, "if we can do it before the tide comes up much. it is not quite low tide now. i looked up the tides before we came out. it will be easier to get in at low tide, though we may have to watch for rocks more. make up your minds what you want to do, girls." "if it were a question of _wanting_," said leslie, "i'd say go at once, but i'm not sure it would be very safe. what do you think, sarita?" but sarita did not answer, for at that moment tom's boat shot out from the dark, spray-washed entrance. all had seen the flash of light, presumably from tom's flashlight, as he took his bearings before starting out of the cave. two figures were in the boat this time. over the legend-cursed waters of pirates' cove tom's boat sped, faster than when it was attempting an unknown course. again they saw him avoid the one tempestuous spot. again they saw him reach the rocks and the buoy where the other boat waited. the watchers did not hear, however, the rough jeer with which the man who rowed the accompanying boat greeted tom. "so bill's got ye at last, has he? ye'll work fer him now or yer life won't be safe. that's yer 'nishiation, did ye know it?" tom was spared an answer by the rough order of the man whom he had brought from the cave. it was to the effect that this was his trip and that he wanted to get to land as quickly as possible. so did tom. the two boats bobbed over the waves and out of the bay to some mooring at the village. the boat load of young people watched, still keeping in the shadow of the rocks and discussing in low tones the likelihood of their being still watched, if at all, by the other boat which had come into the channel. then they heard the soft plash of oars. startled, jack braced himself for possible trouble and peggy clutched leslie again. the boat passed them, its occupant leaning to look in their direction. then it shot back and a voice addressed them. "why, it's the eyrie crowd, isn't it?" what a relief! it was only mr. tudor! "my, how you scared us, mr. tudor!" cried peggy. "how did you happen to get out here? did you see that boat come out of the cove?" "yes. it would seem that the old story is not true, yet i heard miss secrest tell it only to-day." "we're going over. don't you want to go with us?" "peggy!" leslie exclaimed. "have we decided to go?" "i have, unless you really hate to go." "we're crazy to see it," said sarita. mr. tudor was inwardly amused at the turn of events. again they were in his favor. "if you think that it will not be a trespass, miss peggy, i should like to go with you. it seems safe to me. suppose you let me go first, however. i noted the boatman's course, and we shall avoid the same rocks that took him aside." "good!" cried peggy. "have you a light? we brought some." "yes. i have a large flashlight." it seemed like a dream,--the late night, the restless waters, the mystery of the cove, the yawning entrance of the cave. the ives boat followed exactly the trail of the swallow, which the girls now recognized. now they passed the boiling surf. "between scylla and charybdis," quoted leslie to sarita, and peggy, who did not know what she meant, decided to look that up. bowing his head, mr. tudor pulled upon his oars, and his boat disappeared into the yawning maw of the cavern. jack was wondering if it were safe to follow immediately, but he heard a call, "come on," and the entrance was illuminated by the light which mr. tudor carried and which he flashed upon the churning waters in the center of the opening. down went the heads,--a breathless moment! now! the secrest-ives combination were within the pirate cave! looking about by the steady light which mr. tudor held for them, they saw his boat drawn aside a little and near a floating dock, as it might be called, a mere plank tightly fastened to posts at the very edge of a worn rocky ledge, the floor of the cave. waters stretched to the right and left of them. above, the roof of the cave was low at the entrance, but lifted to a high vault farther in. "snug place," said leslie, turning her own flashlight from side to side. mr. tudor examined the landing, made it firm by some quick manipulation, and leaped out of his boat, which he had fastened. "want to get out?" he inquired, leaning toward the passengers of jack's boat, which now occupied the other side of the landing space. he held his hand to the girls, while jack kept the boat steady. "let us keep together," suggested mr. tudor. having the largest light, he naturally took the lead. they found it a large cave, quite evidently often and recently used. nature had been assisted in making it a safe storage for either goods or persons, for they found more than one room, with steps cut in uneven places, and a long passage leading somewhere. they did not follow that very far, for mr. tudor suggested that it would not be best to stay long "this time" on account of the tide. there were cots standing on end, and one which had been left with bedding on it. peggy shuddered. "think of sleeping with such damp bedding!" she said. "this room seems fairly dry, though," said leslie, "and i feel quite a breeze from somewhere." "oh, it must be the place where the men were when we heard them talking!" peggy exclaimed. she and leslie searched the wall and ceiling and found a crack which they decided to be the opening to the "speaking tube," for the immediate surroundings were like a wide funnel. a pile of old and foreign-looking clothing in one corner gave mr. tudor good evidence of what he was seeking. there was a portable stove all greasy and rusty, with a cask which they thought contained gasoline. a wooden door boarded up one opening off from the passage but it was locked. as there was a narrow opening across the top of the ill-fitting door, mr. tudor suggested to jack that he climb up to see what was inside. "stand on my shoulders," he said. jack helped himself first by the edge of a thick board in the door, which had been made by nailing horizontal planks across a frame. partly lifted or supported by mr. tudor, jack clung to the top of the door, with one foot on mr. tudor's shoulder, and looked over. "case after case, and a lot of loose bottles of liquor," he reported. "bill's activities include more than one line of smuggling," mr. tudor replied, as jack dropped to the floor again. "my muddy feet will not help your coat any," said jack. "it will dry and brush off. we have not found any pirate treasure for the girls yet," he continued. "perhaps there is a safe somewhere with the pirate jewels; but we must hurry. i want to see the front space again. come, please." the party went back into the front of the cave, while mr. tudor and jack searched the wall on the side toward the ives' little bay and dock. there, indeed, in a little recess, were some steps, the same sort of rocky steps, where the hand of man had assisted nature. at the top there was another door, locked. but this time mr. tudor drew a key from his pocket which unlocked it. a breeze blew in, fresh and sweet and cool. carefully lighting his steps before him mr. tudor stepped outside, then made room for the rest. they found themselves on a rocky ledge, rather narrow and walled in by rock. mr. tudor rounded a corner carefully, looked and came back. "very clever," said he. "this door is concealed by the mass of rock, and when you turn that corner, there you are in a narrow opening between rocks that looks just like a hundred others. look, but be careful not to step off the edge." each followed directions and looked. "a long plank would reach over to our steps," said peggy. "i've often wondered why that wide, long board was laid along the side of the steps. there is a sort of fastening there, too. i asked mother about it once and she said she supposed it was there to strengthen the stairway. i wonder why they go in and out by boat when that is there." "perhaps," said jack, "there is more danger of discovery, or maybe it is not as safe a way." "that is what became of the count that time. i was not far enough down, or not smart enough to see it." mr. tudor looked inquiringly at peggy. "count herschfeld?" he asked. "yes. do you know him?" "i know of him." they were now back within the cave and mr. tudor locked the door again. "a place like this develops," said he. "it is not planned from the first. it has probably been the resort of smugglers from early times." "but we'd better hurry away while the tide is low. there is a plank to be found inside, if you girls would prefer to cross to the steps. i am sure that i saw one somewhere." "no walking the plank for me _yet_," said peggy. "are you going to tell on bill yet, mr. tudor?" from what he had said, peggy knew that he must know about bill. what else did he know? but she would not be the one to tell about her step-father. "what do you think we ought to do about it, miss peggy?" mr. tudor countered. "i suppose we can't let smuggling go on." "no," soberly evan tudor replied. "it will have to be broken up sometime. probably we should have a little more proof about bill and his friends." "oh, yes," eagerly peggy replied. "poor child," evan tudor was thinking. safely they all went through the spray. mr. tudor went first, then turned his light upon the place for jack's exit. to their surprise they found it foggy and by the time they reached ives bay and the dock there the fog was rolling in so thickly that it was decided to leave the swallow among the ives boats till the next day. evan tudor and the girls would walk home. jack was distressed about this and wanted to accompany them, but peggy insisted that it would be foolish and the rest agreed. "the more quickly and quietly we get into the house the better, jack," said peggy, "and no one will notice the swallow, mr. tudor. we do all sorts of crazy things going back and forth, and jack and i might easily have rowed home in the swallow, or all of us landed here and gone on some hike or other." tired as the girls were, they managed to give a full and clear account of their suspicions and discoveries to mr. tudor on the way home. it was a comfort to pass over some of the responsibility to him, though he did not tell them that this smuggling of aliens was the subject of his quest, nor that he represented the law and the united states government. the other smuggling would naturally be attended to at the same time, but it was desired to find the heads of a ring having operations at different points. "we have been so troubled, mr. tudor, about our duty, how to notify the right authorities, or whether to do so or not, with peggy and her family to consider,--though i suppose that it is wrong to be hindered by that." so leslie told the man who represented the right authority. "it would be a hard thing for you to take up without more proof, miss leslie. suppose you just do nothing but keep your eyes open and tell me about it. i will watch, too. did you say that a schooner was expected about the twenty-eighth?" "yes, sir." "i will talk it over with your brother and miss beth. good-night; do not worry about this." chapter xviii the net is spread the girls found elizabeth up and greatly worried. she had gone to bed and fallen asleep, she said, waking at midnight to find that they had not come in. "if dalton had not needed his sleep so much, i would have wakened him," she said. again the sleepy girls told the story, gathering up the details in the process and filling in what beth did not know. "but we have passed the responsibility over to mr. tudor, beth. he thinks that more proof is necessary, too. we've found out more than enough for poor little peggy, though she is the stoutest little piece you ever saw. one thing, she does not like her step-father, or trust him, and she sees that he makes mrs. ives miserable. mr. tudor asked if she would be likely to warn her step-father and of course, we could not know. so far she has not said anything to her mother." "do you suppose that mr. tudor will do anything?" asked beth, very much interested. "i don't know. he said that he would talk to dalton and to you. i'd say wait till they get here, anyhow. we surely are going to watch for that schooner, beth,--but not to-night!" on the very next day another young man arrived at evan tudor's camp. largely for bill's benefit, a heavy package marked manuscript was mailed by mr. tudor from the village post office. when tom arrived that day with the regular supply of fish, he was told that he might make his report in the presence of the other young man. he did so, showing some money that bill had paid him for the trip, a sum which tom had inwardly hesitated to take, feeling like a traitor. he spoke of his feeling in the matter, but mr. tudor assured him that he must seem to be a part of the smuggler group. "you may even have to be arrested with the rest, though if there is any resisting, get out of range! can you meet that?" "yes, sir." "our people will be instructed about you, and you have only to tell who you are. i'm not anticipating any war. things are coming to a climax now. have you any information about the schooner that is bringing in the immigrants?" "yes, sir. mr. ives is out with the yacht now. he is expecting to take them off the schooner some distance out, but the yacht has trouble with the engine and they may have to dock her. in that case they'll bring what bill calls the big bugs to the yacht, by the launch, of course, and take the rest into the cave till they can get them 'distributed.' that is what mr. ives calls it. i saw him. he came in to bill's on the launch, about ten o'clock last night." mr. tudor had also seen him, but he did not mention the fact to tom. "does mr. ives know that you are in this with bill?" "yes, sir. he asked me questions and gave me a ten dollar bill. i feel like a judas." "remember what he is and you will not feel so. you can give the money back later, if you like." the more puzzling part of this matter to mr. tudor was to make no mistake about having the government officers and men on hand at the right time. with careful scouts out on land and sea to guard against surprise when the schooner actually arrived, mr. ives and bill would be thoroughly informed about any suspicious movements. but an innocent looking hunting and fishing party had just arrived at a camp a few miles away, and a few miles down the coast a small passenger vessel had put in, apparently for repairs. a regular coast guard steamer had passed as well and had duly been reported to bill and mr. ives, who were feeling none too easy about this next cargo of aliens to be smuggled in. but thousands of dollars were already in their pockets and they expected to make as much again. patriotism? bill had been smuggled in himself years before, and mr. ives often told his wife that he owed nothing to uncle sam or the flag. he was a brilliant scoundrel, thoroughly selfish and of the type that enjoys intrigue and power. the count had been embittered by the results of the world war and was glad to do what he could against the country and its laws. some of the alien immigrants themselves were to be pitied, though they were lending themselves to this scheme. many of them were caught in some unhappy circumstances at home and cared nothing for governments, only for a refuge. others were of the dangerous class of communists that were willing to pay and pay heavily for the chance to spread their doctrines in a country that wanted none of them. then there were the ignorant ones, of "low degree," who believed almost anything that they were told of the chances in america. they were to be largely bill's prey, robbed of their savings and forced to work for him if he chose. that was the "fine opportunity" waiting for them in america! the new man with mr. tudor carried the messages now, at night, for it was no longer best to telegraph from the nearest town. after the sending of the manuscript, the two men now spent long hours in fishing or in tramping about after the manner of tourists. they took notes in prominent places, to carry out the idea of their profession, and, indeed, both of them were correspondents for certain papers. mr. tudor told beth that his "best seller" could more easily be a detective story than anything else. dalton was admitted to councils now, but he was more anxious to get on with the house than to do any detective work. the chief benefit to him was the knowledge that someone else was watching bill and mr. ives. his family was safe without his being on guard any longer. like magic, leslie said, the house went up and it was decided to finish it within and without for cold weather. they would at least have what sarita called a "proper home" and if they wanted to stay through part of the cold weather they could. at night watch was kept in the eyrie, as they had planned, for now it was but a short time till the schooner was due. on the twenty-sixth the ives yacht came into the bay and men were sent for to fix some part of the machinery. mr. ives, "cross as two sticks," according to peggy, appeared at his home and had long consultations with the count. at other times he could be heard pacing up and down in his office. "he has something on hand that worries him terribly, peggy," mrs. ives told her daughter, "and just at the time of the house party, too! he says that perhaps the yacht will not be ready in time to go for them, but that if it isn't he will get them here some other way." peggy did not confide this to the other girls. she had stopped talking about the matter. it was not fun any more. they missed her at the eyrie, for while jack came as usual, still interested in the house and dalton, and still wanting to confide in leslie the matters of the steeple rocks mystery, now a mystery no longer, peggy tried to seem interested in her clothes and the plans for the house party. would it come off? would mr. tudor tell? he didn't talk as if he would right away. what ought she to do about telling her mother? peggy's mind was somewhat in confusion. the servants were quiet, inclined to watch peggy, she imagined. it would have been hard to find opportunity for the secret talk with her mother which she rather longed for sometimes. she and jack did not attempt to discuss the matter and mr. ives asked jack to drop his "carpenter work" at the eyrie. once, while they were playing tennis, jack muttered to peggy, "no use, can't do a thing now, peggy. we'll just wait." a very pleasant thing happened at the secrest camp in the shape of a surprise for sarita. through mr. tudor, tom carey sent her a package in which was her lost glass. tom had recovered it that very night after it had fallen into the water, by swimming from his boat and diving where it seemed safe. the glass had lodged upon a rock not far from the surface, he discovered, and while its appearance was spoiled, the lenses were not broken. keeping the recovery a secret from bill, tom had made a trip to town and had the field glass put in shape again, with new covering. a little note explained the facts and sarita was quite overcome, almost sorry that tom had gone to the expense but admiring his spirit. "oh, the poor boy!" she exclaimed. "he paid for it with bill's money, though," said the smiling mr. tudor, in whose presence sarita had opened the package, "and as he is making a little more than usual, you need not worry about tom. i will explain in a few days, miss sarita. it comes just in time for good service." meanwhile the net was being drawn more tightly. it was desired to take the count and mr. ives after their connection with the smuggling was further proved by the presence of the aliens illegitimately brought in in the ives home or upon the ives yacht. on land and by sea the arrival of the schooner was awaited. chapter xix sails on the horizon on the night of the twenty-seventh, leslie secrest and sarita moore were sitting in the sea crest to talk. gently the boat rocked a little in the lapping water of their little cove. beth and dalton were above in the eyrie, where they had a spyglass, not one belonging to peggy, but one which dalton had procured. "it would be a fine thing, wouldn't it," he asked, "to hunt down peggy's step-father with a glass that he will probably pay for?" idly leslie dipped her hand in the water. "let's go over after peggy," sarita suggested. "lots of boats are out yet, and the sunset isn't over. see what entrancing shades there are. beth is probably copying those over there in the east. too bad the sun itself isn't in that direction!" without a word, leslie sprang into action. "i see a few twinkles of stars coming out, but it isn't too late," she said. they were soon out upon the bay, sarita waving a farewell to beth, who had walked out upon the rocks. before they had gone far toward the channel, by which they would reach peggy's, to their surprise, the ives yacht gave forth a deep and sonorous sound. "listen to peggy's yacht tooting!" cried sarita. "look out, les. let's keep out of the way." the yacht, indeed, was moving out; but as there was but one straight course for it out of the bay, leslie was not concerned. she drove the sea crest in another direction, and circled around, as they often did. to their surprise again, there was peggy herself, waving from the deck. leslie chose to follow in the wake of the yacht, which drew farther and farther away from them, and finally turned north along the coast, disappearing from view. it had not been leslie's intention, to be sure, to go out into the open sea very far, but she saw mr. tudor and his friend in another launch no bigger than the sea crest and she found the sea very little rougher than the bay. "it will be fairly light for more than an hour, sarita, let's stay out a while." sarita was willing, and they turned the little sea crest toward the open sea and sped on. suddenly, upon the horizon, a lovely sight greeted their eyes. there hung a large schooner as if suspended from the clouds. it was in full sail, the last pink and lavender of the sunset imparting a tinge of color to the swelling sails. "how lovely!" exclaimed leslie. "is it a fishing schooner, or _the_ schooner, i wonder?" "it might be either, or both," laughed sarita. "how odd! it's simply fading from view! see, it's turned, too." the girls watched the schooner till they could see it no more. then leslie turned the launch and ran straight for the bay. "do you suppose that it _is_ the schooner and that the yacht has gone to meet it now? they certainly would not take peggy and mrs. ives, would they? how terrible it would be if they were boarded out there and peggy would be in the midst of it!" but as they came on, they saw mrs. ives and peggy in a launch run by no less a personage than bill himself. peggy said something to bill, who ran the launch within speaking distance while she called, "engine stopped and we had to signal for help. dad and the count may have to stay there all night!" peggy's face was bright. there was much else that she wanted to tell the girls, but bill wouldn't want to wait, she knew. after nodding brightly to peggy, leslie and sarita looked at each other. "camouflage," said leslie "they meant to send them back all the time. their engine is all right and that's the schooner! bill will go out with the launch, of course, taking the plumber!" "plumber!" laughed sarita. "well, isn't that whom you send for when anything is out of fix?" quick-witted leslie's imagination was right, as it happened. sending on her boat at full speed, she felt very much relieved to think that peggy would be safely at home. "i'd pay five cents," she added, "to know if mr. tudor is taking this in." as that was mr. tudor's chief business at this time, he was not ignorant of all the moves. like leslie, however, he was going in to shore. the schooner would be taken care of at the proper time by others. he knew who was on the yacht and where it lay. he was not so impatient as the girls, for he knew what it all involved. the denouement might be dramatic. he hoped that it would be neither dangerous nor fatal to anyone. no move at all was to be made until the alien passengers were transferred from the schooner. bill's scouts were then to be quietly seized, in order that no signal might be given the yacht, though even then the chase upon the open sea would probably be successful. tom carey was of great help in learning who these scouts were. again that night, like a wraith from the sea, the schooner was seen. leslie in the eyrie, where poor dalton was trying to keep awake after his day of physical labor, found it with the spy-glass and exclaimed. the rest sprang up to look, and while they still tried to distinguish the vessel, whose lights had apparently been extinguished, there was a knock at the door. "it's tudor," spoke a voice. "come right in." dalton hastened to open the door for mr. tudor, who was not quite as calm as usual. "good evening, friends. have you seen the schooner?" "we have just been looking at it," said beth, offering the glass to evan, who looked for some time. "it is flying here and there, like a bird trying to reach its nest and avoid the owl that is watching. ostensibly it has fishing grounds in the vicinity. perhaps it was a mistake to have our boat pass again, but it is not investigating. the ives yacht is lying off the coast with some broken machinery, they say. bill has just brought off the count and mr. ives. "it will probably be to-morrow night when the schooner unloads. our boat is leaving just a little before dawn, to assure them that they are not to be searched, and also to prevent their unloading to-night. i believe that our ship is to hail the schooner, appear to be satisfied with inquiry and steam away. our boat is not very large,--but there is another, not too far out at sea. "circumstances often determine what it is best to do. i thought that you would like to know what is going on. i am going to take a sleep now, my friend on guard. if i were you, i should sleep, too." after this explanation, mr. tudor took his leave. the rather serious secrest group decided to take his advice. the girls were soon asleep in the eyrie with their door barred, though leslie wakened before daylight to lie and think about peggy. peggy herself had many thoughts on the morning of the twenty-eighth. she did not know that the schooner had arrived, but that was the date of the house party. mr. ives was still nervous but in better poise, giving orders in regard to certain provisions for the guests. mrs. ives was mistress of herself and the situation, for her house was ready, the menus made out with the housekeeper. never had peggy had such a problem to face. she could not bring herself to inform authority against her step-father, and in her indecision she was ready to see who came, what sort of people they were and whether it were really mr. ives who was the real smuggler or not. perhaps he could be persuaded to give it all up, she thought. mr. tudor's knowing worried her. she now felt persuaded that he had been investigating, though she hoped that she was only imagining it. it was out of peggy's hands, however. if the girls had never started to find a mystery out for themselves, the result would have been the same. before midnight men were hidden in the pirates' cave, for tom had fortunately been appointed watch there. whether tide and hour would permit entrance by water or by plank and the door, they were ready. tom carey could tell them little this time, for plans were known only to bill. the rest followed his orders. one government boat was to take the yacht, another was to follow the schooner, and lest slippery bill should escape in the launch, provision was made for that. it was hoped that the entire number of aliens, high and low, might be transferred to the yacht first because of its size. no interference was to be made until after that occurred. mr. tudor told elizabeth that the smugglers were doubtless hoping for fog to conceal their activities. the first excitement at the eyrie occurred about ten o'clock that night, when dalton, uneasy, sauntered down to their cove and discovered the sea crest foundered, not in very deep water to be sure, but it was an unwelcome calamity. the swallow was floating, but dalton examined it to find that someone had begun to cut a hole in it. "my coming probably frightened the man away," dalton reported at the eyrie. "they do not want the sea crest abroad to-night." it did grow somewhat foggy, though not enough so to annoy what boats were out upon the bay. long since the "engine trouble" of the yacht had been overcome and it had steamed away, up the coast and out of sight. now, shortly after midnight it appeared, regardless of who might see it, well lighted, its pennants waving in honor of distinguished guests. it approached the bay, at full speed and cutting the waves valiantly. chapter xx capture peggy and jack, at steeple rocks, had gone to watch for the yacht at the tops of the steps which ran down to the dock where the yacht was expected. at the sight of it, jack waited, but peggy hurried in to announce the arrival. mrs. ives and madame kravetz were sitting in the drawing room, while timmons, the butler, was in the hall. "the yacht is coming," said peggy in her clear voice, "all lit up and everything. it just passed another vessel that was going along and it's coming into the bay! shall i tell jack to light the lights outside?" "timmons will do it. timmons, rouse the maids if they are drowsy." but mrs. ives wondered at the alarmed expression on the face of the butler, and that madame kravetz went outside immediately. mr. ives and the count had gone out to the yacht in the morning, ostensibly to go to the port where he was to meet his guests. some train must have been late to delay them this long, or perhaps the engines had not worked properly. it was all decidedly queer. she looked at peggy. "what's the matter with 'em?" bluntly asked peggy. "i am sure i do not know, unless timmons is excited for fear things may not go as they should." the bay was a trap. no sooner had the yacht gotten well into it than the passing vessel, manned by government men to catch both aliens and smugglers, turned about and rapidly sought the mouth of the bay. the pursuit was short, as mr. ives and count herschfeld, on board the yacht knew it must be. hastily the word was passed around among the more important passengers, who were panic-stricken, facing deportation, having many jewels which they were smuggling in. smaller boats also gathered around the yacht, but it reached the dock, though boarded at once. it attempted no useless defense, for it was immediately seen that a concerted plan on the part of the government forces made them too strong for the smugglers. how mr. ives got away, no one knew. he was not seen upon the rocks, but someone saw him take off his coat and leap into the water, though it was thought at the time that he was at once picked up by one of the boats. the approaches to the house were all guarded, it was supposed, but a secret entrance from the cliff, which the girls had not discovered, admitted mr. ives to a rocky chamber behind his office. peggy, sitting in the drawing room with her mother, heard the door to the library and office open behind her. mr. ives, a wild figure, appeared. water was dripping from him. he was drawing on a dry coat as he entered and stuffing its pockets with money from his safe. "get the car quickly, kit! they're after me! call timmons! peggy, run up and get my overcoat and all the clothes that you can lay your hands on!" mrs. ives in her pretty evening dress ran outside, followed by her husband, while peggy instinctively started after the overcoat and clothes. but she met timmons on the stairs, a hurrying timmons, dressed for departure, carrying her step-father's top-coat and two suit-cases. her assistance was not necessary. timmons must have seen the capture at which peggy guessed. she stood aside to let him pass, but followed rapidly herself. at the foot of the stairs peggy and madame kravetz nearly collided. the governess was rushing out from the dining room with what appeared to be a sack of food, a brown paper sack carried by the particular, elegant kravetz! she picked up a suitcase in the hall and dashed out of the front door. peggy heard the sound of the car and immediately thought of her mother, outside in the chill air with only that thin dress to protect her. perhaps her husband would make her go with him! luckily peggy had wrapped herself in her mother's coat when she had gone with jack to look for the yacht. there lay the pretty silk-lined evening wrap with its warm fur collar. peggy snatched it up from the hall seat and rushed out as wildly as any of the fleeing conspirators had done. it was only a moment after madame kravetz had passed her, before peggy was at the side of the car with her mother's wrap. she tossed it in, hearing mr. ives say, "very well, ride a short distance with us, kitty. you have been a good wife,--" but the car started to speed, peggy knew, over the terrible roads till they reached the good highway and what hiding place peggy could not imagine. but while she stood there, watching the darkness into which the car had taken her mother and scarcely seeing the stupefied maids that gathered around her, mr. tudor, breathless and much chagrined over the escape of mr. ives, came hurrying around the house from the dock. unfortunately for plans, guards around the house had all rushed to prevent escape at the yacht. "where is your mother, miss peggy?" he asked. "is your father inside? it will be better for him quietly to surrender." "don't ask me anything, please," said peggy, suddenly feeling utterly alone. but her maid, the beloved "pugsy," who had avoided being sent away after all, came with alarmed face from the house just then and went to peggy, who collapsed upon her shoulder in a storm of sobs. "i am very sorry, miss peggy,--_believe_ me, i am," mr. tudor stopped to say, though he had one eye on two officers who were entering the house. "i know it," sobbed peggy, "but do go away now, and find out things for yourself!" jack, who had been down at the yacht, joined the maid in soothing peggy and between them they persuaded her to go to bed, promising to let her know when her mother came back. mrs. ives was one of the women who believe that vows for better or worse should be kept. had her husband desired her to accompany him, she would have done so, though it took her into danger and unhappiness. his wet hands drew the cloak around her, as he outlined briefly what had happened. amazed, in spite of previous suspicions, she listened, while the ear jolted them from side to side. they were all in great suspense. it was a terrific dash for freedom, but at last they reached a good highway where they went on for some miles, turning off finally upon one short, bad stretch to a small village. there mr. ives said that he had kept horses for some time, using them in "his business" as he needed them. "go back with the car," he directed, "stopping somewhere for something to eat, if any place is open. we shall be aboard a ship after a short ride with the horses. i will get word to you, from abroad, probably, in some way. i have plenty of money now." mrs. ives knew that scouting parties would be out in every direction as soon as it was known from the servants how mr. ives made his escape. accordingly, she quickly took the car to the main highway and drove slowly homeward, faint and worn, and in no mood for questions. but unlike tempestuous peggy, she responded courteously when she was stopped. yes, she had accompanied mr. ives part way. they could scarcely expect her to help them, could they? she knew very well that trains would be examined, the woods searched and the coast followed. as it was, her husband was foolishly expectant of escape, she thought. but mr. ives was clever enough to elude them, it happened. the count had been taken, on the yacht. he was the real organizer of the ring. bill ritter, trying to escape, had been arrested and through tom carey's information, all his chief assistants in this work were gathered in. the village was in a turmoil, for some of the people there were due to be deported. through evan tudor, however, the work of investigation was carried on in a way as little distressing to these poor victims of others' greed as was possible. tom carey set to work to organize again the fishing industry, filling orders and carrying on the shipping. through jack, mrs. ives sent for mr. tudor, who was still in his camp, in the intervals of these affairs in which he was concerned. he came to steeple rocks rather uncertain of his reception, but mrs. ives, sober and depressed, made no reference to his part in the disclosures. "i have heard of you from peggy, mr. tudor," she said, "and i want to consult you as representing the government interests. your report will probably be accepted, will it not?" mr. tudor, relieved, bowed. "yes, mrs. ives." "i want it understood that whatever in the way of restitution is to be done, i will do. i am sorry that i could do nothing for those poor foreigners that were hurried right away. whether mr. ives is ever found or not, i should prefer to have everything made clear and to be free from obligation. so i have made out a list of our property, not including, of course, the small estate which is peggy's from her own father. my husband told me that the liquor in the cave was bill ritter's, though i suppose that my husband was partly responsible for letting it be housed upon our property. "i want to show you the safe and what i found in it, some bonds, cash and important papers. now will you act for me?" "i will be glad to do so, though i am not a lawyer." "you will be more a witness, i should think. i am dismissing most of the servants; indeed, some of them left because they were afraid of being arrested as aliens. steeple rocks will be for sale. i have not found any smuggled jewels, and i scarcely think that my husband ever was concerned in that." "the whole place was thoroughly searched, mrs. ives, before your return. after the steamer took charge of the aliens, the force searched yacht and house at once." mrs. ives sadly shook her head. "it is a tragedy to me, but if only the shadow does not rest on peggy, i can bear it." "nothing of all this attaches to you, mrs. ives, and i have seen to it that a very general account so far has been published by the papers. my friend and i so promptly sent in our reports that they are the ones given. i will send you some of the papers." "thank you. it is a relief to know that all the details are not spread broadcast." following this conference with mr. tudor, mrs. ives and peggy quietly went about steeple rocks making ready to close it early, for mrs. ives felt that she must get away from the place. peggy, on the other hand, wanted to stay and asked her mother if she might not stay at the eyrie. "will they want you after this?" "i don't see why not. i belong to the 'trium-feminate', you know. sarita likes me for taking an interest in birds, and dalton saved my life. i know that _he_ likes me. leslie is just like dalton and elizabeth is _always_ sweet to me. dal would like to stay all winter and keep beth from teaching. why, mother, why couldn't she tutor me? they might like a boarder that would pay and work, too, and it wouldn't be as expensive for you, i'm sure. think of traveling expenses and boarding, especially if we have to give nearly everything we have to the government!" mrs. ives smiled. "it is not quite as bad as that, peggy, but we shall see." "i'm going right over now!" declared peggy. this is how it came about that after a quiet summer, without the expected visit from the lyon-marsh party, but with cruises and hikes and picnics, peggy ives was still with the secrests. she was called by her own name, peggy or marguerite nave, though the girls occasionally called her angelina for fun and dal said that he was "always sure an angel descended when she leaped out of the air into the blackberry bushes." beth had consented to tutor peggy and take care of her as long as it seemed best for her to stay at the eyrie, "and that may be all winter," peggy confided to dalton, who nodded assent. jack tried in vain to persuade dalton to go to college with him, but dalton could not be persuaded. "no, jack," he said at their final talk. "you go to college, and leslie and i may both come year after next. but i want to finish this home, and keep beth out of school this year if possible. the way it looks now, she never will go back. it will be nip and tuck between jim lyon and this evan tudor, i think, though jim seems to be losing out at present. i think that beth is the heroine in that best seller that mr. tudor is always joking about." jack nodded. "all right, dal. i don't blame you for wanting to fix up this place. and if you bring leslie to my college year after next,--it will be worth waiting for." by fall the quaint new home was ready for cold weather. plans had grown, with their interest, till now it included the living room with its big fireplace, two bedrooms and a tiny kitchen, though that would not be used much when it grew cold. dalton was full of plans for plumbing and electricity and a still larger house, but beth, while she never threw cold water on the projects, was quite content to regard this as a happy interlude and a summer home. there were more school days for dalton and leslie, and as for her,--she had just received a letter from mrs. ives which informed her that the father of evan tudor wanted to buy steeple rocks! simply, too, mrs. ives wrote that she was now a widow and that the long strain of anxiety about her husband's always impending capture was over. on christmas eve, peggy and dalton were decorating the large room with spruce boughs and some holly wreaths and mistletoe sent by mrs. ives. the most perfect little christmas tree that the secrest woods could furnish stood in front of the window, ready to be lit up for the world to see, though that world might consist only of a few village children in whose welfare beth and the rest were interested. leslie sat in front of the fireplace stringing the last bit of corn out of the popper for festoons upon the tree. beth was finishing little net stockings for nuts and candy. "we _must_ stop for some supper, children," she was saying. "oh, never mind about supper; there's too much to do." peggy gave dalton a mischievous glance as she spoke. "never," he promptly replied. "didn't i bring home the bacon myself?" "yes, you did," answered leslie, emptying the corn popper and rising from the floor. "i'll cook that rabbit myself. i can watch it while we finish up. what more is there to do, beth?" "not so much. anita's doll has to have a sash, sonia's a cap and josef's drum needs hanging on the tree. if you will get the supper, i will finish, leslie. the baskets of food for them need a little more arranging. peggy and dal may drape the popcorn on the tree, if they will." something was already bubbling in an old-fashioned iron pot in the fireplace; but it was the same old reliable and speedy "portable" which leslie used to cook the rabbit. behind a tall screen in one corner of the room stood a table, the stove and a cupboard, but primitive ways of cooking in the fireplace, were fun when "used in moderation," as peggy put it. soon the savory supper was over and everything cleared away. peggy and leslie lit the candles on the trees, for they knew that eager feet were trampling the light snow in the path from the village. childish voices were heard outside before long and then there came a pause. leslie was about to fling open the door, but beth signaled to her to wait. it was anita whose clear voice led the christmas carol which beth had taught them, but the children were almost too excited to finish it properly for the lights of the tree shone out over the snow to invite them within. "i couldn't make 'em sing it vera good," said anita, as beth drew her inside with the rest of the children and several mothers, one of whom beth had first met that day on the beach when someone else important entered beth's life to stay. "it was _beautiful_," beth answered lovingly. "now we'll all sing together while you warm your toes and fingers by the fire. leslie, get your guitar, please, and peggy, you may lead us if you will. we shall have sarita to sing with us after christmas. after we sing about the little christ-child, we shall see what santa can find for us on that tree!" obediently the children sang and how they shouted when dalton, who had disappeared during the singing, appeared as santa claus with a rosy-cheeked, white-bearded santa claus mask. there was no delay in presenting the gifts, in providing which some absent friends had a share. it was much later, after the guests had gone, that beth sat alone by the fire. dalton, leslie and peggy had taken their skates to the lake. beth felt a little lonely and was not in a mood to read. she was thinking of someone whom tom carey had promised to take in whenever he could get away for a trip to maine. she was still thrilled over his last letter and she wondered if he had yet received her reply. the flames curled lazily around the last log that dalton had put on before he left. unexpectedly, but appropriately to her thought, there came a little rap that beth knew. "oh,--why--" she said, as she opened the door quickly to a traveler in a big fur coat. "i couldn't help it, beth," said evan tudor, closing the door upon icy breezes, tossing off his thick gloves and taking both her hands. "beth, dear, i have sold the 'best seller'! it has just been accepted and i had to come on to make _sure_ that i am, too. it's christmas eve, beth!" "i didn't make any conditions, did i, evan, in my letter? i'm glad about the 'best seller'--and--you needn't worry about the rest. oh, how _wonderful_ to have you for christmas!" the end america*** this ebook was produced by j. henry phillips. what prohibition has done to america by fabian franklin copyright , harcourt, brace & co., new york. table of contents chapter i - perverting the constitution chapter ii - creating a nation of lawbreakers chapter iii - destroying our federal system chapter iv - how the amendment was put through chapter v - the law makers and the law chapter vi - the law enforcers and the law chapter vii - nature of the prohibitionist tyranny chapter viii - one-half of one percent chapter ix - prohibition and liberty chapter x - prohibition and socialism chapter xi - is there any way out? chapter i perverting the constitution the object of a constitution like that of the united states is to establish certain fundamentals of government in such a way that they cannot be altered or destroyed by the mere will of a majority of the people, or by the ordinary processes of legislation. the framers of the constitution saw the necessity of making a distinction between these fundamentals and the ordinary subjects of law-making, and accordingly they, and the people who gave their approval to the constitution, deliberately arrogated to themselves the power to shackle future majorities in regard to the essentials of the system of government which they brought into being. they did this with a clear consciousness of the object which they had in view--the stability of the new government and the protection of certain fundamental rights and liberties. but they did not for a moment entertain the idea of imposing upon future generations, through the extraordinary sanctions of the constitution, their views upon any special subject of ordinary legislation. such a proceeding would have seemed to them far more monstrous, and far less excusable, than that tyranny of george iii and his parliament which had given rise to the american revolution. until the adoption of the eighteenth amendment, the constitution of the united states retained the character which properly belongs to the organic law of a great federal republic. the matters with which it dealt were of three kinds, and three only--the division of powers as between the federal and the state governments, the structure of the federal government itself, and the safeguarding of the fundamental rights of american citizens. these were things that it was felt essential to remove from the vicissitudes attendant upon the temper of the majority at given time. there was not to be any doubt from year to year as to the limits of federal power on the one hand and state power on the other; nor as to the structure of the federal government and the respective functions of the legislative, executive, and judicial departments of that government; nor as to the preservation of certain fundamental rights pertaining to life, liberty and property. that these things, once laid down in the organic law of the country, should not be subject to disturbance except by the extraordinary and difficult process of amendment prescribed by the constitution was the dictate of the highest political wisdom; and it was only because of the manifest wisdom upon which it was based that the constitution, in spite of many trials and drawbacks, commanded, during nearly a century and a half of momentous history, the respect and devotion of generation after generation of american citizens. although the constitution of the united states has been pronounced by an illustrious british statesman the most wonderful work ever struck off at a given time by the brain and purpose of man, it would be not only folly, but superstition, to regard it as perfect. it has been amended in the past, and will need to be amended in the future. the income tax amendment enlarged the power of the federal government in the field of taxation, and to that extent encroached upon a domain theretofore reserved to the states. the amendment which referred the election of senators to popular vote, instead of having them chosen by the state legislatures, altered a feature of the mechanism originally laid down for the setting up of the federal government. the amendments that were adopted as a consequence of the civil war were designed to put an end to slavery and to guarantee to the negroes the fundamental rights of freemen. with the exception of the amendments adopted almost immediately after the framing of the constitution itself, and therefore usually regarded as almost forming part of the original instrument, the amendments just referred to are the only ones that had been adopted prior to the eighteenth; and it happens that these amendments--the sixteenth, the seventeenth, and the group comprising the thirteenth, fourteenth and fifteenth--deal respectively with the three kinds of things with which the constitution was originally, and is legitimately, concerned: the division of powers between the federal and the state governments, the structure of the federal government itself, the safeguarding of the fundamental rights of american citizens. one of the gravest indictments against the eighteenth amendment is that it has struck a deadly blow at the heart of our federal system, the principle of local self-government. how sound that indictment is, how profound the injury which national prohibition inflicted upon the states as self-governing entities, will be considered in a subsequent chapter. at this point we are concerned with an objection even more vital and more conclusive. upon the question of centralization or decentralization, of federal power or state autonomy, there is room for rational difference of opinion. but upon the question whether a regulation prescribing the personal habits of individuals forms a proper part of the constitution of a great nation there is no room whatever for rational difference of opinion. whether prohibition is right or wrong, wise or unwise, all sides are agreed that it is a denial of personal liberty. prohibitionists maintain that the denial is justified, like other restraints upon personal liberty to which we all assent; anti-prohibitionists maintain that this denial of personal liberty is of a vitally different nature from those to which we all assent. that it is a denial of personal liberty is undisputed; and the point with which we are at this moment concerned is that to entrench a denial of liberty behind the mighty ramparts of our constitution is to do precisely the opposite of what our constitution--or any constitution like ours--is designed to do. the constitution withdraws certain things from the control of the majority for the time being--withdraws them from the province of ordinary legislation--for the purpose of safeguarding liberty, the eighteenth amendment seizes upon the mechanism designed for this purpose, and perverts it to the diametrically opposite end, that of safeguarding the denial of liberty. all history teaches that liberty is in danger from the tyranny of majorities as well as from that of oligarchies and monarchies; accordingly the constitution says: no mere majority, no ordinary legislative procedure, shall be competent to deprive the people of the liberty that is hereby guaranteed to them. but the eighteenth amendment says: no mere majority, no mere legislative procedure, shall be competent to restore to the people the liberty that is hereby taken away from them. thus, quite apart from all questions as to the merits of prohibition in itself, the eighteenth amendment is a constitutional monstrosity. that this has not been more generally and more keenly recognized is little to the credit of the american people, and still less to the credit of the american press and of those who should be the leaders of public opinion. one circumstance may, however, be cited which tends to extenuate in some degree this glaring failure of political sense and judgment. there have long been prohibition enactments in many of our state constitutions, and this has made familiar and commonplace the idea of prohibition as part of a constitution. but our state constitutions are not constitutions in anything like the same sense as that which attaches to the constitution of the united states. most of our state constitutions can be altered with little more difficulty than ordinary laws; the process merely takes a little more time, and offers no serious obstacle to any object earnestly desired by a substantial majority of the people of the state. accordingly our state constitutions are full of a multitude of details which really belong in the ordinary domain of statute law; and nobody looks upon them as embodying that fundamental and organic law upon whose integrity and authority depends the life and safety of our institutions. the constitution of the united states, on the other hand, is a true constitution--concerned only with fundamentals, and guarded against change in a manner suited to the preservation of fundamentals. to put into it a regulation of personal habits, to buttress such a regulation by its safeguards, is an atrocity for which no characterization can be too severe. and it is something more than an atrocity; the eighteenth amendment is not only a perversion but also a degradation of the constitution. in what precedes, the emphasis has been placed on the perversion of what was designed as a safeguard of liberty into a safeguard of the denial of liberty. but even if no issue of liberty entered into the case, an amendment that embodied a mere police regulation would be a degradation of the constitution. in the earlier days of our history --indeed up to a comparatively recent time--if any one had suggested such a thing as a prohibition amendment to the federal constitution, he would have been met not with indignation but with ridicule. it would not have been the monstrosity, but the absurdity, of such a proposal, that would have been first in the thought of almost any intelligent american to whom it might have been presented. he would have felt that such a feature was as utterly out of place in the constitution of the united states as would be a statute regulating the height of houses or the length of women's skirts. it might be as meritorious as you please in itself, but it didn't belong in the constitution. if the constitution is to command the kind of respect which shall make it the steadfast bulwark of our institutions, the guaranty of our union and our welfare, it must preserve the character that befits such an instrument. the eighteenth amendment, if it were not odious as a perversion of the power of the constitution, would be contemptible as an offense against its dignity. chapter ii creating a nation of law-breakers in his baccalaureate address as president of yale university, in june, , dr. angell felt called upon to say that in this country "the violation of law has never been so general nor so widely condoned as at present," and to add these impressive words of appeal to the young graduates: this is a fact which strikes at the very heart of our system of government, and the young man entering upon his active career must decide whether he too will condone and even abet such disregard of law, or whether he will set his face firmly against such a course. it is safe to say that there has never been a time in the history of our country when the president of a great university could have found it necessary to address the young americans before him in any such language. there has never been a time when deliberate disregard of law was habitual among the classes which represent culture, achievement, and wealth--the classes among whom respect for law is usually regarded as constant and instinctive. that such disregard now prevails is an assertion for which president angell did not find it necessary to point to any evidence. it is universally admitted. friends of prohibition and enemies of prohibition, at odds on everything else, are in entire agreement upon this. it is high time that thinking people went beyond the mere recognition of this fact and entered into a serious examination of the cause to which it is to be ascribed. perhaps i should say the causes, for of course more causes than one enter into the matter. but i say the cause, for the reason that there is one cause which transcends all others, both in underlying importance and in the permanence of its nature. that cause does not reside in any special extravagances that there may be in the volstead act. the cardinal grievance against which the unprecedented contempt for law among high-minded and law-abiding people is directed is not the volstead act but the eighteenth amendment. the enactment of that amendment was a monstrosity so gross that no thinking american thirty years ago would have regarded it as a possibility. it is not only a crime against the constitution of the united states, and not only a crime against the whole spirit of our federal system, but a crime against the first principles of rational government. the object of the constitution of the united states is to imbed in the organic law of the country certain principles, and certain arrangements for the distribution of power, which shall be binding in a peculiar way upon generation after generation of the american people. once so imbedded, it may prove to be impossible by anything short of a revolution to get them out, even though a very great majority of the people should desire to do so. if laws regulating the ordinary personal conduct of individuals are to be entrenched in this way, one of the first conditions of respect for law necessarily falls to the ground. that practical maxim which is always appealed to, and rightly appealed to, in behalf of an unpopular law--the maxim that if the law is bad the way to get it repealed is to obey it and enforce it--loses its validity. if a majority cannot repeal the law--if it is perfectly conceivable, and even probable, that generation after generation may pass without the will of the majority having a chance to be put into effect--then it is idle to expect intelligent freemen to bow down in meek submission to its prescriptions. apart from the question of distribution of governmental powers, it was until recently a matter of course to say that the purpose of the constitution was to protect the rights of minorities. that it might ever be perverted to exactly the opposite purpose--to the purpose of fastening not only upon minorities but even upon majorities for an unlimited future the will of the majority for the time being--certainly never crossed the mind of any of the great men who framed the constitution of the united states. yet this is precisely what the prohibition mania has done. the safeguards designed to protect freedom against thoughtless or wanton invasion have been seized upon as a means of protecting a denial of freedom against any practical possibility of repeal. upon a matter concerning the ordinary practices of daily life, we and our children and our children's children are deprived of the possibility of taking such action as we think fit unless we can obtain the assent of twothirds of both branches of congress and the legislatures of three-fourths of the states. to live under such a dispensation in such a matter is to live without the first essentials of a government of freemen. i admit that all this is not clearly in the minds of most of the people who break the law, or who condone or abet the breaking of the law. nevertheless it is virtually in their minds. for, whenever an attempt is made to bring about a substantial change in the prohibition law, the objection is immediately made that such a change would necessarily amount to a nullification of the eighteenth amendment. and so it would. people therefore feel in their hearts that they are confronted practically with no other choice but that of either supinely submitting to the full rigor of prohibition, of trying to procure a law which nullifies the constitution, or of expressing their resentment against an outrage on the first principles of the constitution by contemptuous disregard of the law. it is a choice of evils; and it is not surprising that many good citizens regard the last of the three choices as the best. how far this contempt and this disregard has gone is but very imperfectly indicated by the things which were doubtless in president angell's mind, and which are in the minds of most persons who publicly express their regret over the prevalence of law-breaking. what they are thinking about, what the anti-saloon league talks about, what the prohibition enforcement officers expend their energy upon, is the sale of alcoholic drinks in public places and by bootleggers. but where the bootlegger and the restaurant-keeper counts his thousands, home brew counts its tens of thousands. to this subject there is a remarkable absence of attention on the part of the anti-saloon league and of the prohibition enforcement service. they know that there are not hundreds of thousands but millions of people breaking the law by making their own liquors, but they dare not speak of it. they dare not go even so far as to make it universally known that the making of home brew is a violation of the law. to this day a very considerable number of people who indulge in the practice are unaware that it is a violation of the law. and the reason for this careful and persistent silence is only too plain. to make conspicuous before the whole american people the fact that the law is being steadily and complacently violated in millions of decent american homes would bring about a realization of the demoralizing effect of prohibition which its sponsors, fanatical as they are, very wisely shrink from facing. how long this demoralization may last i shall not venture to predict. but it will not be overcome in a day; and it will not be overcome at all by means of exhortations. it is possible that enforcement will gradually become more and more efficient, and that the spirit of resistance may thus gradually be worn out. on the other hand it is also possible that means of evading the law may become more and more perfected by invention and otherwise, and that the melancholy and humiliating spectacle which we are now witnessing may be of very long duration. but in any case it has already lasted long enough to do incalculable and almost ineradicable harm. and for all this it is utterly idle to place the blame on those qualities of human nature which have led to the violation of the law. of those qualities some are reprehensible and some are not only blameless but commendable. the great guilt is not that of the law-breakers but that of the lawmakers. it is childish to imagine that every law, no matter what its nature, can command respect. nothing would be easier than to imagine laws which a very considerable number of perfectly wellmeaning people would be glad to have enacted, but which if enacted it would be not only the right, but the duty, of sound citizens to ignore. i do not say that the eighteenth amendment falls into this category. but it comes perilously near to doing so, and thousands of the best american citizens think that it actually does do so. it has degraded the constitution of the united states. it has created a division among the people of the united states comparable only to that which was made by the awful issue of slavery and secession. that issue was a result of deepseated historical causes in the face of which the wisdom and patriotism of three generations of americans found itself powerless. this new cleavage has been caused by an act of legislative folly unmatched in the history of free institutions. my hope--a distant and yet a sincere hope--is that the american people may, in spite of all difficulties, be awakened to a realization of that folly and restore the constitution to its traditional dignity by a repeal, sooner or later, of the monstrous amendment by which it has been defaced. chapter iii destroying our federal system thus far i have been dealing with the wrong which the prohibition amendment commits against the vital principle of any national constitution, the principle which alone justifies the idea of a constitution--a body of organic law removed from the operation of the ordinary processes of popular rule and representative government. but reference was made at the outset to a wrong of a more special, yet equally profound, character. the distinctive feature of our system of government is that it combines a high degree of power and independence in the several states with a high degree of power and authority in the national government. time was when the dispute naturally arising in such a federal union, concerning the line of division between these two kinds of power, turned on an abstract or legalistic question of state sovereignty. that abstract question was decided, once for all, by the arbitrament of arms in our great civil war. but the decision, while it strengthened the foundations of the federal union, left unimpaired the individuality, the vitality, the self-dependence of the states in all the ordinary affairs of life. it continued to be true, after the war as before, that each state had its own local pride, developed its own special institutions, regulated the conduct of life within its boundaries according to its own views of what was conducive to the order, the well-being, the contentment, the progress, of its own people. it has been the belief of practically all intelligent observers of our national life that this individuality and self-dependence of the states has been a cardinal element in the promotion of our national welfare and in the preservation of our national character. in a country of such vast extent and natural variety, a country developing with unparalleled rapidity and confronted with constantly changing conditions, who can say how great would have been the loss to local initiative and civic spirit, how grave the impairment of national concord and good will, if all the serious concerns of the american people had been settled for them by a central government at washington ? in that admirable little book, "politics for young americans," charles nordhoff fifty years ago expounded in simple language the principles underlying our system of government. coming to the subject of "decentralization," he said: experience has shown that this device [decentralization] is of extreme importance, for two reasons: first, it is a powerful and the best means of training a people to efficient political action and the art of self-government; and, second, it presents constant and important barriers to the encroachment of rulers upon the rights and liberties of the nation; every subdivision forming a stronghold of resistance by the people against unjust or wicked rulers. take notice that any system of government is excellent in the precise degree in which it naturally trains the people in political independence, and habituates them to take an active part in governing themselves. whatever plan of government does this is good--no matter what it may be called; and that which avoids this is necessarily bad. what mr. nordhoff thus set forth has been universally acknowledged as the cardinal merit of local self-government; and in addition to this cardinal merit it has been recognized by all competent students of our history that our system of self-governing states has proved itself of inestimable benefit in another way. it has rendered possible the trying of important experiments in social and governmental policy; experiments which it would have been sometimes dangerous, and still more frequently politically impossible, to inaugurate on a national scale. when these experiments have proved successful, state after state has followed the example set by one or a few among their number; when they have been disappointing in their results, the rest of the union has profited by the warning. but, highly important as is this aspect of state independence, the most essential benefits of it are the training in self-government which is emphasized in the above quotation from mr. nordhoff, and the adaptation of laws to the particular needs and the particular character of the people of the various states. that modern conditions have inevitably led to a vast enlargement of the powers of the central government, no thinking person can deny. it would be folly to attempt to stick to the exact division of state functions as against national which was natural when the union was first formed. the railroad, the telegraph, and the telephone, the immense development of industrial, commercial, and financial organization, the growth of interwoven interests of a thousand kinds, have brought the people of california and new york, of michigan and texas, into closer relations than were common between those of massachusetts and virginia in the days of washington and john adams. in so far as the process of centralization has been dictated by the clear necessities of the times, it would be idle to obstruct it or to cry out against it. but, so far from this being an argument against the preservation of the essentials of local self-government, it is the strongest possible argument in favor of that preservation. with the progress of science, invention, and business organization, the power and prestige of the central government are bound to grow, the power and prestige of the state governments are bound to decline, under the pressure of economic necessity and social convenience; all the more, then, does it behoove us to sustain those essentials of state authority which are not comprised within the domain of those overmastering economic forces. if we do not hold the line where the line can be held, we give up the cause altogether; and it will be only a question of time when we shall have drifted into complete subjection to a centralized government, and state boundaries will have no more serious significance than county boundaries have now. but if there is one thing in the wide world the control of which naturally and preeminently belongs to the individual state and not to the central government at washington, that thing is the personal conduct and habits of the people of the state. if it is right and proper that the people of new york or illinois or maryland shall be subjected to a national law which declares what they may or may not eat or drink--a law which they cannot themselves alter, no matter how strongly they may desire it--then there is no act of centralization whatsoever which can be justly objected to as an act of centralization. the prohibition amendment is not merely an impairment of the principle of self-government of the states; it constitutes an absolute abandonment of that principle. this does not mean, of course, an immediate abandonment of the practice of state self-government; established institutions have a tenacious life, and moreover there are a thousand practical advantages in state selfgovernment which nobody will think of giving up. but the principle, i repeat, is abandoned altogether if we accept the eighteenth amendment as right and proper; and if anybody imagines that the abandonment of the principle is of no practical consequence, he is woefully deluded. so long as the principle is held in esteem, it is always possible to make a stout fight against any particular encroachment upon state authority; any proposed encroachment must prove its claim to acceptance not only as a practical desideratum but as not too flagrant an invasion of state prerogatives. but with the eighteenth amendment accepted as a proper part of our system, it will be impossible to object to any invasion as more flagrant than that to which the nation has already given its approval. a striking illustration of this has, curiously enough, been furnished in the brief time that has passed since the adoption or the eighteenth amendment. southern senators and representatives and legislaturemen who, for getting all about their cherished doctrine of state rights, had fallen over themselves in their eagerness to fasten the eighteenth amendment upon the country, suddenly discovered that they were deeply devoted to that doctrine when the nineteenth amendment came up for consideration. but nobody would listen to them. they professed--and doubtless some of them sincerely professed--to find an essential difference between putting woman suffrage into the constitution and putting prohibition into the constitution. the determination of the right of suffrage was, they said, the most fundamental attribute of a sovereign state; national prohibition did not strike at the heart of state sovereignty as did national regulation of the suffrage. but the abstract question of sovereignty has had little interest for the nation since the civil war; and if we waive that abstract question, the prohibition amendment was an infinitely more vital thrust at the principle of state selfgovernment. the woman suffrage amendment was the assertion of a fundamental principle of government, and if it was an abridgment of sovereignty it was an abridgment of the same character as those embodied in the constitution from the beginning, the prohibition amendment brought the federal government into control of precisely those intimate concerns of daily life which, above all else, had theretofore been left untouched by the central power, and subject to the independent jurisdiction of each individual state. the south had eagerly swallowed a camel, and when it asked the country to strain at a gnat it found nobody to listen. our public men, and our leaders of opinion, frequently and earnestly express their concern over the decline of importance in our state governments, the lessened vigor of the state spirit. the sentiment is not peculiar to any party or to any section; it is expressed with equal emphasis and with equal frequency by leading republicans and leading democrats, by northerners and southerners. all feel alike that with the decay of state spirit a virtue will go out of our national spirit--that a centralized america will be a devitalized america. but when they discuss the subject, they are in the habit of referring chiefly to defects in administration; to neglect of duty by the average citizen or perhaps by those in high places in business or the professions; to want of intelligence in the legislature, etc. and for all this there is much reason; yet all this we have had always with us, and it is not always that we have had with us this sense of the decline of state spirit. for that decline the chief cause is the gradual, yet steady and rapid, extension of national power and lowering of the comparative importance of the functions of the state. however, the functions that still remain to the state--and its subdivisions, the municipalities and counties --are still of enormous importance; and, with the growth of public-welfare activities which are ramifying in so many directions, that importance may be far greater in the future. but what is to become of it if we are ready to surrender to the central government the control of our most intimate concerns? and what concern can be so intimate as that of the conduct of the individual citizen in the pursuit of his daily life? how can the idea of the state as an object of pride or as a source of authority flourish when the most elementary of its functions is supinely abandoned to the custody of a higher and a stronger power? the prohibition amendment has done more to sap the vitality of our state system than could be done by a hundred years of misrule at albany or harrisburg or springfield. the effects of that misrule are more directly apparent, but they leave the state spirit untouched in its vital parts. the prohibition amendment strikes at the root of that spirit, and its evil precedent, if unreversed, will steadily cut off the source from which that spirit derives its life. chapter iv how the amendment was put through there has been a vast amount of controversy over the question whether a majority of the american people favored the adoption of the eighteenth amendment. there is no possible way to settle that question. even future votes, if any can be had that may be looked upon as referendum votes, cannot settle it, whichever way they may turn out. if evidence should come to hand which indicates that a majority of the american people favor the retention of the amendment now that it is an accomplished fact, this will not prove that they favored its adoption in the first place; it may be that they wish to give it a fuller trial, or it may be that they do not wish to go through the upheaval and disturbance of a fresh agitation of the question or it may be some other reason quite different from what was in the situation four years ago. on the other hand, if the referendum should seem adverse, this might be due to disgust at the lawlessness that has developed in connection with the prohibition amendment, or to a realization of the vast amount of discontent it has aroused, or to something else that was not in the minds of the majority when the amendment was put through. but really the question is of very little importance. from the standpoint of fundamental political doctrine, it makes no difference whether million, or million, or million people out of a hundred million desired to put into the constitution a provision which is an offense against the underlying idea of any constitution, an injury to the american federal system, an outrage upon the first principles both of law and of liberty. and if, instead of viewing the matter from the standpoint of fundamental political doctrine, we look upon it as a question of constitutional procedure, it is again--though for a different reason--a matter of little consequence whether a count of noses would have favored the adoption of the amendment or not. the constitution provides a definite method for its own amendment, and this method was strictly carried out--the amendment received the approval of the requisite number of representatives, senators and state legislatures; from the standpoint of constitutional procedure the question of popular majorities has nothing to do with the case. but from every standpoint the way in which the eighteenth amendment was actually put through congress and the legislatures has a great deal to do with the case. prohibitionists constantly point to the big majority in congress, and the promptness and almost unanimity of the approval by the legislatures, as proof of an overwhelming preponderance of public sentiment in favor of the amendment. it is proof of no such thing. to begin with, nothing is more notorious than the fact that a large proportion of the members of congress and state legislatures who voted for the prohibition amendment were not themselves in favor of it. many of them openly declared that they were voting not according to their own judgment but in deference to the desire of their constituents. but there is not the slightest reason to believe that one out of twenty of those gentlemen made any effort to ascertain the desire of a majority of their constituents; nor, for that matter, that they would have followed that desire if they had known what it was. what they were really concerned about was to get the support, or avoid the enmity, of those who held, or were supposed to hold, the balance of power. for that purpose a determined and highly organized body of moderate dimensions may outweigh a body ten times as numerous and ten times as representative of the community. the anti-saloon league was the power of which congressmen and legislaturemen alike stood in fear. never in our political history has there been such an example of consummately organized, astutely managed, and unremittingly maintained intimidation; and accordingly never in our history has a measure of such revolutionary character and of such profound importance as the eighteenth amendment been put through with anything like such smoothness and celerity. the intimidation exercised by the antisaloon league was potent in a degree far beyond the numerical strength of the league and its adherents, not only because of the effective and systematic use of its black-listing methods, but also for another reason. weak-kneed congressmen and legislaturemen succumbed not only to fear of the ballots which the league controlled but also to fear of another kind. a weapon not less powerful than political intimidation was the moral intimidation which the prohibition propaganda had constantly at command. that such intimidation should be resorted to by a body pushing what it regards as a magnificent reform is not surprising; the pity is that so few people have the moral courage to beat back an attack of this kind. throughout the entire agitation, it was the invariable habit of prohibition advocates to stigmatize the anti-prohibition forces as representing nothing but the "liquor interests." the fight was presented in the light of a struggle between those who wished to coin money out of the degradation of their fellow-creatures and those who sought to save mankind from perdition. that the millions of people who enjoyed drinking, to whom it was a cherished source of refreshment, recuperation, and sociability, had any stake in the matter, the agitators never for a moment acknowledged; if a man stood out against prohibition he was not the champion of the millions who enjoyed drink, but the servant of the interests who sold drink. this preposterous fiction was allowed to pass current with but little challenge; and many a public man who might have stood out against the anti-saloon league's power over the ballot-box cowered at the thought of the moral reprobation which a courageous stand against prohibition might bring down upon him. thus the swiftness with which the prohibition amendment was adopted by congress and by state legislatures, and the overwhelming majorities which it commanded in those bodies, is no proof either of sincere conviction on the part of the lawmakers or of their belief that they were expressing the genuine will of their constituents. as for individual conviction, the personal conduct of a large proportion of the lawmakers who voted for prohibition is in notorious conflict with their votes; and as for the other question, it has happened in state after state that the legislature was almost unanimous for prohibition when the people of the state had quite recently shown by their vote that they were either distinctly against it or almost evenly divided. of this kind of proceeding, maryland presented an example so flagrant as to deserve special mention. although popular votes in the state had, within quite a short time, recorded strong anti-prohibition majorities, the legislature rushed its ratification of the eighteenth amendment through in the very first days of its session; and this in face of the fact that maryland has always held strongly by state rights and cherished its state individuality, and that the leading newspapers of the state and many of its foremost citizens came out courageously and energetically against the amendment. in these circumstances, nothing but a mean subserviency to political intimidation can possibly account for the indecent haste with which the ratification was pushed through. it is interesting to note a subsequent episode which casts a further interesting light on the matter, and tends to show that there are limits beyond which the whip-and-spur rule of the anti-saloon league cannot go. in the session of the present year, the anti-saloon league tried to get a state prohibition enforcement bill passed. although there was a great public protest, the bill was put through the lower house of the legislature; but in the senate it encountered resistance of an effective kind. the senate did not reject the bill; but, in spite of bitter opposition by the anti-saloon league, it attached to the bill a referendum clause. with that clause attached, the anti-saloon league ceased to desire the passage of the bill, and allowed it to be killed on its return to the lower house of the legislature. is this not a fine exhibition of the nature of the league's hold on legislation? and is there not abundant evidence that the whole of this maryland story is typical of what has been going on throughout the country? charges are made that the anti-saloon league has expended vast sums of money in its campaigns; money largely supplied, it is often alleged, by one of the world's richest men, running into the tens of millions or higher. r do not believe that these charges are true. more weight is to be attached to another factor in the case--the adoption of the amendment by congress while we were in the midst of the excitement and exaltation of the war, and two million of our young men were overseas. unquestionably, advantage was taken of this situation, there can be little doubt that the eighteenth amendment would have had much harder sledding at a normal time. and it is right, accordingly, to insist that the amendment was not subjected to the kind of discussion, nor put through the kind of test of national approval, which ought to precede any such permanent and radical change in our constitutional organization. this is especially true because national prohibition was not even remotely an issue in the preceding election, nor in any earlier one. all these things must weigh in our judgment of the moral weight to be attached to the adoption of the eighteenth amendment; but there is another aspect of that adoption which is more important. the gravest reproach which attaches to that unfortunate act, the one which causes deepest concern among thinking citizens, does not relate to any incidental feature of the prohibition manoevres. the fundamental trouble lay in a deplorable absence of any general understanding of the seriousness of making a vital change in the constitution--incomparably the most vital to which it has ever been subjected--and of the solemn responsibility of those upon whom rested the decision to make or not to make that change. even in newspapers in which one would expect, as a matter of course, that this aspect of the question would be earnestly impressed upon their readers, it was, as a rule, passed over without so much as a mention. and this is not all. one of the shrewdest and most successful of the devices which the league and its supporters constantly made use of was to represent the function of congress as being merely that of submitting the question to the state legislatures; as though the passage of the amendment by a two-thirds vote of congress did not necessarily imply approval, but only a willingness to let the sentiment of the several states decide. of course, such a view is preposterous; of course, if such were the purpose of the constitutional procedure there would be no requirement of a two-thirds vote.* but many members of congress were glad enough to take refuge behind this view of their duty, absurd though it was; and no one can say how large a part it played in securing the requisite two-thirds of house and senate. yet from the moment the amendment was thus adopted by congress, nothing more was heard of this notion of that body having performed the merely ministerial act of passing the question on to the legislatures. on the contrary, the two-thirds vote (and more) was pointed to as conclusive evidence of the overwhelming support of the amendment by the nation; the legislatures were expected to get with alacrity into the band-wagon into which congress had so eagerly climbed. evidently, it would have been far more difficult to get the eighteenth amendment into the constitution if the two-thirds vote of congress had been the sole requirement for its adoption. congressmen disposed to take their responsibility lightly, and yet not altogether without conscience, voted with the feeling that their act was not final, when they might otherwise have shrunk from doing what their judgment told them was wrong; and, the thing once through congress, legislatures hastened to ratify in the feeling that ratification by the requisite number of legislatures was manifestly a foregone conclusion. thus at no stage of the game was there given to this tremendous constitutional departure anything even distantly approaching the kind of consideration that such a step demands. the country was jockeyed and stampeded into the folly it has committed; and who can say what may be the next folly into which we shall fall, if we do not awaken to a truer sense of the duty that rests upon every member of a lawmaking body--to decide these grave questions in accordance with the dictates of his own honest and intelligent judgment? * this should be self-evident; but if there were any room for doubt. it would be removed by a reference to the language of article v of the constitution: "the congress, whenever two-thirds of both houses shall deem it necessary, shall propose amendments to this constitution" which shall be valid "when ratified by the legislatures of three-fourths of the states." thus congress does not submit an amendment, but proposes it; and it does this only when two-thirds of both houses deem it necessary. the primary act of judgment is performed by congress; what remains for the legislatures is to ratify or not to ratify that act. chapter v the law makers and the law well meaning exhorters, shocked at the spectacle of millions of perfectly decent and law-abiding americans showing an utter disregard of the prohibition law, are prone to insist that to violate this law, or to abet its violation, is just as immoral as to violate any other criminal law. the thing is on the statute-books--nay, in the very constitution itself --and to offend against it, they say, is as much a crime as to commit larceny, arson or murder. but they may repeat this doctrine until doomsday, and make little impression upon persons who exercise their common sense. the law that makes larceny, arson or murder a crime merely registers, and emphasizes, and makes effective through the power of the government, the dictates of the moral sense of practically all mankind; and if, in the case of some kindred crimes, it goes beyond those dictates for special reasons, the extension is only such as is called for by the circumstances. however desirable it may be that the sudden transformation of an innocent act into a crime by mere governmental edict should carry with it the same degree of respect as is paid to laws against crimes which all normal men hold in abhorrence, it is idle to expect any such thing; and in a case where the edict violates principles which almost all of us only a short time ago held to be almost sacred, the expectation is worse than merely idle. a nation which could instantly get itself into the frame of mind necessary for such supine submission would be a nation fit for servitude, not freedom. but in the case of the prohibition amendment, and of the volstead act for its enforcement, there enters another element which must inevitably and most powerfully affect the feelings of men toward the law. everybody knows that the law is violated, in spirit if not in letter, by a large proportion of the very men who imposed it upon the country. members of congress and of the state legislatures--those that voted for prohibition, as well as those that voted against it--have their private stocks of liquor like other people; nor is there any reason to believe that many of them are more scrupulous than other people in augmenting their supply from outside sources. one of the means resorted to by the anti-saloon league in pushing through the amendment was the particular care they took to make its passage involve little sacrifice of personal indulgence on the part of those who were wealthy enough, or clever enough, to provide for the satisfaction of their own desires in the matter of drink, at least for many years to come. the league knew perfectly that in some prohibition states the possession of liquor was forbidden as well as its manufacture, transportation and sale; but the antisaloon league would never have dared to include in the amendment a ban upon possession. congressmen who voted for it knew that not only they themselves, but their wealthy and influential constituents, would be in a position to provide in very large measure for their own future indulgences; and it may be set down as certain that had this not been the case, opposition to the amendment would have been vastly more effective than it was. in order that a person should entertain a genuine feeling that the prohibition amendment is entitled to the same kind of respect as the general body of criminal law, it is necessary--even if he waives all those questions of constitutional principle which have been dwelt upon in previous chapters--that he should regard drinking as a crime. and this is indeed the express belief of many upholders of the amendment--a foolish belief, in my judgment, but certainly a sincere one. i have before me a letter--typical of many--published in one of our leading newspapers and written evidently by a man of education as well as sincerity. he speaks bitterly of the proposal to permit "light wines and beer," and asks whether any one would propose to permit light burglary or light arson. that man evidently regards indulgence in any intoxicating liquor as a crime, and he looks upon the law as a prohibition of that crime. and he is essentially right, if the law is right. for while the law does not in its express terms make drinking a crime, its intention--and its practical effect so far as regards the great mass of the people--is precisely that. the people president angell had in mind when he implored the young yale graduates not to be like them, are not makers or sellers of liquor, but drinkers of it. they are not moonshiners or smugglers or bootleggers; they are the people upon whose patronage or connivance the moonshiners and smugglers and bootleggers depend for their business. and everybody knows that, in their private capacity, senators and representatives and legislaturemen are precisely like their fellow-citizens in this matter. they may possibly be somewhat more careful about the letter of the law; they are certainly just as regardless of its spirit. with the exception of a comparatively small number of genuine prohibitionists--men who were for prohibition before the anti-saloon league started its campaign--they would laugh at the question whether they regard drinking as a crime. and they act accordingly. what degree of moral authority can the law be expected to have in these circumstances? upon the mind of a man intensely convinced that the law is an outrage, how much impression can be produced by the mere fact that it was passed by congress and the legislatures, when the real attitude of the members of those bodies is such as it is seen to be in their private conduct? how much of a moral sanction would be given to a law against larceny if a large proportion of the men who enacted the law were themselves receivers of stolen goods ? or a law against forgery if the legislators were in the frequent habit of passing forged checks? it happens that the receiving of stolen goods or the passing of forged checks is a crime under the law, as well as the stealing or the forgery itself; and that the prohibition law does not make the drinking or even the buying of liquor, but only the making or selling of it, a crime; but what a miserable refuge this is for a man who professes to believe that the abolition of intoxicating liquor is so supreme a public necessity as to demand the remaking of the constitution of the united states for the purpose! not the least of the causes of public disrespect for the prohibition law is the notorious insincerity of the makers of the law, and their flagrant disrespect for their own creation. chapter vi the law enforcers and the law day after day, month after month, a distressing, a disgusting spectacle is presented to the american people in connection with the enforcement of the national prohibition law. no day passes without newspaper headlines which "feature" some phase of the contest going on between the government on the one hand and millions of citizens on the other; citizens who belong not to the criminal or semi-criminal classes, nor yet to the ranks of those who are indifferent or disloyal to the principles of our institutions, but who are typical americans, decent, industrious, patriotic, law-abiding. it is true that the individuals whom the government hunts down by its spies, its arrests, its prosecutions, are men who make a business of breaking the prohibition law, and most of whom would probably just as readily break other laws if money was to be made by it. but none the less the real struggle is not with the thousands who furnish liquor but with the hundreds of thousands, or millions, to whom they purvey it. every time we read of a spectacular raid or a sensational capture, we are really reading of a war that is being waged by a vast multitude of good normal american citizens against the enforcement of a law which they regard as a gross invasion of their rights and a violation of the first principles of american government. the state of things thus arising was admirably and compactly characterized by justice clarke, of the united states supreme court, in a single sentence of his recent address before the alumni of the new york university law school, as follows: the eighteenth amendment required millions of men and women to abruptly give up habits and customs of life which they thought not immoral or wrong, but which, on the contrary, they believed to be necessary to their reasonable comfort and happiness, and thereby, as we all now see, respect not only for that law, but for all law, has been put to an unprecedented and demoralizing strain in our country, the end of which it is difficult to see. upon all this, however, as concerned with the conduct of the people at large, perhaps enough has been said in previous chapters. what i wish to dwell upon at this point is the conduct of those who, either in the government itself, or in the power behind the government--the anti-saloon league--are carrying on the enforcement of the prohibition law. they are not carrying it on in the way in which the enforcement of other laws is carried on. in the case of a normal criminal law--and it must always be remembered that the volstead act is a criminal law, just like the laws against burglary, or forgery, or arson--those who are responsible for its enforcement regard themselves as administrators of the law, neither more nor less. but the enforcement of the prohibition law is something quite different: it is not a work of administration but of strategy; not a question of seeing that the law is obeyed by everybody, but of carrying on a campaign against the defiers of the law just as one would carry on a campaign against a foreign enemy. the generals in charge of the campaign decide whether they shall or shall not attack a particular body of the enemy; and their decision is controlled by the same kind of calculation as that made by the generals in a war of arms--a calculation of the chances of victory. where the enemy is too numerous, or too strongly entrenched, or too widely scattered, they leave him alone; where they can drive him into a corner and capture him, they attack. to realize how thoroughly this policy is recognized as a simple fact, one can hardly do better than quote these perfectly naive and sincere remarks in an editorial entitled "government bootlegging," in the new york tribune, a paper that has never been unfriendly to the eighteenth amendment: that american ships had wine lists was no news to the astute wayne b. wheeler, generalissimo of the prohibition forces. he was fully informed before mr. gallivan spoke, and by silence gave consent to them. he was complaisant, it may be assumed, because he did not wish to furnish another argument to those who would repeal or modify the volstead act. he has made no fuss over home brew and has allowed ruralists to make cider of high alcoholic voltage. he saw it would be difficult, if not impossible, to stop home manufacture and did not wish to swell the number of anti-volsteaders. he was looking to securing results rather than to being gloriously but futilely consistent. similarly the practical mr. wheeler foresaw that if american ships were bone-dry the bibulous would book on foreign ships and the total consumption of beverages would not be materially diminished. for a barren victory he did not care to have volsteadism carry the blame of driving american passenger ships from the sea. prohibitionists who have not put their brains in storage may judge whether or not his tactics are good and contribute to the end he seeks. now from the standpoint of pure calculation directed to the attainment of a strategic end, in a warfare between the power of a government and the forces of a very large proportion of the population over which it holds sway, the tribune may be entirely right. but what is left of the idea of respect for law? with what effectiveness can either president angell or president harding appeal to that sentiment when it is openly admitted that the government not only deliberately overlooks violations of the law by millions of private individuals, but actually directs that the law shall be violated on its own ships, for fear that the commercial loss entailed by doing otherwise would further excite popular resentment against the law? it has only to be added that since the date of that editorial (june , ) the anti-saloon league has come out strongly against the selling of liquor on governmentowned ships--a change which only emphasizes the point i am making. for, in spite of the tribune's shrewd observations, it soon became clear that the volstead act was being so terribly discredited by the preposterous spectacle of the government selling liquor on its own ships that something had to be done about it; and it was only under the pressure of this situation that a new line of strategy was adopted by the anti-saloon league. what it will do if it finds that it cannot put through its plan of excluding liquor from all ships, american and foreign, remains to be seen. now it may be replied to all this that a certain amount of laxity is to be found in the execution of all laws; that the resources at the disposal of government not being sufficient to secure the hunting down and punishment of all offenders, our executive and prosecuting officers and police and courts apply their powers in such directions and in such ways as to accomplish the nearest approach possible to a complete enforcement of the law. but the reply is worthless. because the enforcement of all laws is in some degree imperfect, it does not follow that there is no disgrace and no mischief in the spectacle of a law enforced with spectacular vigor, and even violence, in a thousand cases where such enforcement cannot be successfully resisted, and deliberately treated as a dead letter in a hundred thousand cases where its enforcement would show how widespread and intense is the people's disapproval of the law. there are many instances in which a law has become a dead letter; where this is generally recognized no appreciable harm is done, since universal custom operates as a virtual repeal. but here is a case of a law enforced with militant energy where it suits the officers of the government to enforce it, systematically ignored in millions of cases by the same officers because it suits them to do that, and cynically violated by the direct orders of the government itself when this course seems recommended by a cold-blooded calculation of policy ! if the laws against larceny, or arson, or burglary, or murder, were executed in this fashion, what standing would the law have in anybody's mind? yet in the case of these crimes, the law only makes effective the moral code which substantially the whole of the community respects as a fundamental part of its ethical creed; and accordingly even if the law were administered in any such outrageous fashion as is the case with prohibition, it would still retain in large measure its moral authority. but in the case of the prohibition law, an enormous minority, and very possibly a majority, of the people regard the thing it forbids as perfectly innocent and, within proper limits, eminently desirable; the only moral sanction that it has in their minds is that of its being on the statute books. what can that moral sanction possibly amount to when the administration of the law itself furnishes the most notorious of all examples of disrespect for its commands? there is another aspect of the enforcement of the law which invites comment, but upon which i shall say only a few words. i refer to the many invasions of privacy, unwarranted searches, etc., that have taken place in the execution of the law. i f this went on upon a much larger scale than has actually been the case, it would justly be the occasion for perhaps the most severe of all the indictments against the volstead act; for it would mean that americans are being habituated to indifference in regard to the violation of one of their most ancient and most essential rights. but in fact the danger of public resentment over such a course has been the chief cause of the sagacious strategy which has characterized the policy of the government; or perhaps one should rather say, the anti-saloon league, for it is the league, and not the government, that is the predominant partner in this matter. for the present, the league has been "lying low" in the matter of search and seizure; but if it should ever feel strong enough to undertake the suppression of home brew, there is not the faintest question but that it will press forward the most stringent conceivable measures of search and seizure. accordingly, there opens up before the eyes of the american people this pleasing prospect: if the present struggle of the league (or the government) with bootleggers and moonshiners and smugglers is brought to a successful conclusion, there will naturally be a greater resort than ever to home manufacture; and equally naturally, it will then be necessary for the league (or the government) to undertake to stamp out that practice. but obviously this cannot be done without inaugurating a sweeping and determined policy of search and seizure in private houses; a beautiful prospect for "the land of the free," for the inheritors of the english tradition of individual liberty and of the american spirit of ' --sight for gods and men to weep over or laugh at! chapter vii nature of the prohibitionist tyranny that there are some things which, however good they may be in themselves, the majority has no right to impose upon the minority, is a doctrine that was, i think i may say, universally understood among thinking americans of all former generations. it was often forgotten by the unthinking; but those who felt themselves called upon to be serious instructors of public opinion were always to be counted on to assert it, in the face of any popular clamor or aberration. the most deplorable feature, to my mind, of the whole story of the prohibition amendment, was the failure of our journalists and leaders of opinion, with a few notable exceptions, to perform this duty which so peculiarly devolves upon them. lest any reader should imagine that this doctrine of the proper limits of majority power is something peculiar to certain political theorists, i will quote just one authority --where i might quote scores as well--to which it is impossible to apply any such characterization. it ought, of course, to be unnecessary to quote any authority, since the constitution itself contains the clearest possible embodiment of that doctrine. in the excellent little book of half a century ago referred to in a previous chapter, nordhoff's "politics for young americans," the chapter entitled "of political constitutions" opens as follows: a political constitution is the instrument or compact in which the rights of the people who adopt it, and the powers and responsibilities of their rulers, are described, and by which they are fixed. the chief object of a constitution is to limit the power of majorities. a moment's reflection will tell you that mere majority rule, unlimited, would be the most grinding of tyrannies; the minority at any time would be mere slaves, whose rights to life, property and comfort no one who chose to join the majority would be bound to respect. all this is stated, and the central point put in italics, by mr. nordhoff, as matter that must be impressed upon young people just beginning to think about public questions, and not at all as matter of controversy or doubt. the last sentence, to be sure, requires amplification; mr. nordhoff certainly did not intend his young readers to infer that such tyranny as he describes is either sure to occur in the absence of a constitution or sure to be prevented by it. the primary defense against it is in the people's own recognition of the proper limits of majority power; what mr. nordhoff wished to impress upon his readers is the part played by a constitution in fixing that recognition in a strong and enduring form. the quotation i have in mind, however, from one of the highest of legal authorities, has no reference to the united states constitution or to any constitution. it deals with the essential principles of law and of government. it is from a book by the late james c. carter, who was beyond challenge the leader of the bar of new york, and was also one of the foremost leaders in movements for civic improvement. the book bears the title "law: its origin, growth and function," and consists of a course of lectures prepared for delivery to the law school of harvard university seventeen years ago; which, it is to be noted, was before the movement for national prohibition had got under way. mr. carter was not arguing for any specific object, but was impressing upon the young men general truths that had the sanction of ages of experience, and were the embodiment of the wisest thought of generations. let us hear a few of these truths as he laid them down: nothing is more attractive to the benevolent vanity of men than the notion that they can effect great improvement in society by the simple process of forbidding all wrong conduct, or conduct which they think is wrong, by law, and of enjoining all good conduct by the same means. (p. ) the principal danger lies in the attempt often made to convert into crimes acts regarded by large numbers, perhaps a majority, as innocent --that is to practise what is, in fact, tyranny. while all are ready to agree that tyranny is a very mischievous thing, there is not a right understanding equally general of what tyranny is. some think that tyranny is a fault only of despots, and cannot be committed under a republican form of government; they think that the maxim that the majority must govern justifies the majority in governing as it pleases, and requires the minority to acquiesce with cheerfulness in legislation of any character, as if what is called self-government were a scheme by which different parts of the community may alternately enjoy the privilege of tyrannizing over each other. (p. ) speaking in particular of the evil effects of that particular "species of criminal legislation to which sumptuary laws belong," mr. carter, after dwelling upon the subject in detail, says: an especially pernicious effect is that society becomes divided between the friends and the foes of repressive laws, and the opposing parties become animated with hostility which prevents united action for purposes considered beneficial by both. perhaps. the worst of all is that the general regard and reverence for law are impaired, a consequence the mischief of which can scarcely be estimated (p. ). to prevent consequences like these, springing as they do from the most deep-seated qualities of human nature, by pious exhortations is a hopeless undertaking. but if it be so in general--if the consequences of majority tyranny in the shape of repressive laws governing personal habits could be predicted so clearly upon general principles--how vastly more certain and more serious must these consequences be when such a law is fastened upon the people by means that would be abhorrent even in the case of any ordinary law! the people who object to prohibition are exultantly told by their masters that it is idle for them to think of throwing off their chains; that the law is riveted upon them by the constitution, and the possibility of repeal is too remote for practical consideration. thus the one thought that might mitigate resentment and discountenance resistance, the thought that freedom might be regained by repeal, is set aside; and the result is what we have been witnessing. on this phase of the subject, however, enough has been said in a previous chapter. what i wish to point out at present is some peculiarities of national prohibition which make it a more than ordinarily odious example of majority tyranny. national prohibition in the united states --granting, for the sake of argument, that it expresses the will of a majority--is not a case merely of a greater number of people forcing their standards of life upon a smaller number, in a matter in which such coercion by a majority is in its nature tyrannical. the population of the united states is, in more than one respect, composed of parts extremely diverse as regards the particular subject of this legislation. the question of drink has a totally different aspect in the south from what it has in the north; a totally different aspect in the cities from what it has in the rural districts or in small towns; to say nothing of other differences which, though important, are of less moment. how profoundly the whole course of the prohibition movement has been affected by the desire of the south to keep liquor away from the negroes, needs no elaboration; it would not be going far beyond the truth to say that the people of new york are being deprived of their right to the harmless enjoyment of wine and beer in order that the negroes of alabama and texas may not get beastly drunk on rotgut whiskey. if the south had stuck to its own business and to its traditional principle of state autonomy--a principle which the south invokes as ardently as ever when it comes to any other phase of the negro question--there would never have been a prohibition amendment to the constitution of the united states; and at the same time the south would have found it perfectly possible to deal effectively with its own drink problem by energetic execution of its own laws, made possible by its own public opinion. nor is the case essentially different as regards the west; the very people who are loudest in their shouting for the eighteenth amendment are also most emphatic in their praises of what kansas accomplished by enforcing her own prohibition law. thus the prohibitionist tyranny is in no small measure a sectional tyranny, which is of course an aggravated form of majority tyranny. but what needs insisting on even more than this is the way in which the country districts impose their notions about prohibition upon the people of the cities, and especially of the great cities. when attention is called to the wholesale disregard of the law, contempt for the law, and hostility to the law which is so manifest in the big cities, the champions of prohibition in the press--including the new york press--never tire of saying that it is only in new york and a few other great cities that this state of things exists. but everybody knows that the condition exists not only in "a few," but in practically all, of our big cities; and for that matter that it exists in a large proportion of all the cities of the country, big and little. but if we confine ourselves only to the cities having a population of , or more, we have here an aggregate population of almost exactly , , --nearly one-fourth of the entire population of the country. is it a trifling matter that these great communities, this vast population of large-city dwellers, should have their mode of life controlled by a majority rolled up by the vote of people whose conditions, whose advantages and disadvantages, whose opportunities and mode of life, and consequently whose desires and needs, are of a wholly different nature? could the tyranny of the majority take a more obnoxious form than that of sparse rural populations, scattered over the whole area of the country from maine to texas and from georgia to oregon, deciding for the crowded millions of new york and chicago that they shall or shall not be permitted to drink a glass of beer? nor is it only the obvious tyranny of such a regime that makes it so unjustifiable. there are some special features in the case which accentuate its unreasonableness and unfairness. in the american village and small town, the use of alcoholic drinks presents almost no good aspect. the countryman sees nothing but the vile and sordid side of it. the village grogshop, the bar of the smalltown hotel, in america has presented little but the gross and degrading aspect of drinking. prohibition has meant, to the average farmer, the abolition of the village groggery and the small-town barroom. that it plays a very different part in the lives of millions of city people--and for that matter that it does so in the lives of millions of industrial workers in smaller communities--is a notion that never enters the farmer's mind. and to this must be added the circumstance that the farmer can easily make his own cider and other alcoholic drinks, and feels quite sure that prohibition will never seriously interfere with his doing so. altogether, we have here a case of one element of the population decreeing the mode of life of another element of whose circumstances and desires they have no understanding, and who are affected by the decree in a wholly different way from that in which they themselves are affected by it. many other points might be made, further to emphasize the monstrosity of the prohibition that has been imposed upon our country. of these perhaps the most important one is the way in which the law operates so as to be effective against the poor, and comparatively impotent against the rich. but this and other points have been so abundantly brought before the public in connection with the news of the day that it seemed hardly necessary to dwell upon them. my object has been rather to direct attention to a few broad considerations, less generally thought of. the objection that applies to sumptuary laws in general has tenfold force in the case of national prohibition riveted down by the constitution, and imposed upon the whole nation by particular sections and by particular elements of the population. a question of profound interest in connection with this aspect of prohibition demands a few words of discussion. it has been asserted with great confidence, and denied with equal positiveness, that prohibition has had the effect of very greatly increasing the addiction to narcotic drugs. i confess my inability to decide, from any data that have come to my attention, which of these contradictory assertions is true. but it is not denied by anybody, i believe, that, whether prohibition has anything to do with the case or not, the use of narcotic drugs in this country is several times greater per capita than it is in any of the countries of europe--six or seven times as great as in most. why this should be so, it is perhaps not easy to determine. the causes may be many. but i submit that it is at least highly probable that one very great cause of this extraordinary and deplorable state of things is the atmosphere of reprobation which in america has so long surrounded the practice of moderate drinking. any resort whatever to alcoholic drinks being held by so large a proportion of the persons who are most influential in religious and educational circles to be sinful and incompatible with the best character, it is almost inevitable that, in thousands of cases, desires and needs which would find their natural satisfaction in temperate and social drinking are turned into the secret and infinitely more unwholesome channel of drug addiction. how much of the extraordinary extent of this evil in america may be due to this cause, i shall of course not venture to estimate; but that it is a large part of the explanation, i feel fairly certain. and my belief that it is so is greatly strengthened by the familiar fact that in the countries in which wine is cheap and abundant, and is freely used by all the people, drunkenness is very rare in comparison with other countries. as easy and familiar recourse to wine prevents resort to stronger drinks, so it seems highly probable that the practice of temperate drinking would in thousands of cases obviate the craving for drugs. but when all drinking, temperate and intemperate, is alike put under the ban, the temptation to secret indulgence in drugs gets a foothold; and that temptation once yielded to, the downward path is swiftly trodden. finally, there is a broad view of the whole subject of the relation of prohibition to life, which these last reflections may serve to suggest. when a given evil in human life presents itself to our consideration, it is a natural and a praiseworthy impulse to seek to effect its removal. to that impulse is owing the long train of beneficent reforms which form so gratifying a feature of the story of the past century and more. but that story would have been very different if the reformer had in every instance undertaken to extirpate whatever he found wrong or noxious. to strike with crusading frenzy at what you have worked yourself up into believing is wholly an accursed thing is a tempting short cut, but is fraught with the possibility of all manner of harm. in the case of prohibition, i have endeavored to point out several of the forms of harm which it carries with it. but in addition to those that can so plainly be pointed out, there is a broader if less definite one. when we have choked off a particular avenue of satisfaction to a widespread human desire; when, foiled perhaps in one direction, we attack with equal fury the possibility of escape in another and another; who shall assure us that, debarred of satisfaction in old and tried ways, the same desires will not find vent in far more injurious indulgences ? how different if, instead of crude and wholesale compulsion, resort were had--as it had been had before the prohibitionist mania swept us off our feet--to well-considered measures of regulation and restriction, and to the legitimate influences of persuasion and example! the process is slower, to be sure, but it had accomplished wonderful improvement in our own time and before; what it gained was solid gain; and it did not invite either the resentment, the lawlessness, or the other evils which despotic prohibition of innocent pleasure carries in its train. chapter viii one-half of one per cent. the eighteenth amendment forbids "the manufacture, sale or transportation of intoxicating liquors within, the importation thereof into, or the exportation thereof from the united states and all territory subject to the jurisdiction thereof for beverage purposes." the volstead act declares that the phrase "intoxicating liquor," as used in the act, "shall be construed to include 'all liquors' containing one-half of one percentum or more of alcohol by volume which are fit for use for beverage purposes." since everybody knows that a drink containing one-half of one per cent. of alcohol is not in fact an intoxicating drink, a vast amount of indignation has been aroused, among opponents of national prohibition, by this stretching of the letter of the amendment. i have to confess that r cannot get excited over this particular phase of the volstead legislation. there is, to be sure, something offensive about persons who profess to be peculiarly the exponents of high morality being willing to attain a practical end by inserting in a law a definition which declares a thing to be what in fact it is not; but the offense is rather one of form than of really important substance. the supreme court has decided that congress did not exceed its powers in making this definition of "intoxicating liquor"; and, while this does not absolve the makers of the law of the offense against strict truthfulness, it may rightly be regarded as evidence that the transgression was not of the sort that constituted a substantial usurpation--the assumption by congress of a power lying beyond the limits of the grant conferred upon it by the eighteenth amendment. if congress chooses to declare one-half of one per cent. as its notion of the kind of liquor beyond which there would occur a transgression of the eighteenth article of the amendments to the constitution, says the supreme court in effect, it may do so in the exercise of the power granted to it "to enforce this article by appropriate legislation." not a little effort has been expended by lawyers and legislators--state and national --upon the idea of bringing about a raising of the permitted percentage to . . that figure appears to represent quite accurately the point at which, as a matter of fact, an alcoholic liquor becomes--in any real and practical sense--in the slightest degree intoxicating. but, except for the purpose of making something like a breach in the outer wall of the great prohibition fortress--the purpose of showing that the control of the prohibitionist forces over congress or a state legislature is not absolutely unlimited--this game is not worth the candle. to fight hard and long merely to get a concession like this, which is in substance no concession--to get permission to drink beer that is not beer and wine that is not wine--is surely not an undertaking worth the expenditure of any great amount of civic energy. a source of comfort was, however, furnished to advocates of a liberalizing of the prohibition regime by the very fact that the supreme court did sanction so manifest a stretching of the meaning of words as is involved in a law which declares any beverage containing as much as one-half of one per cent. of alcohol to be an "intoxicating liquor." if a liquor that is not intoxicating can by congressional definition be made intoxicating, it was pointed out, then by the same token a liquor that is intoxicating can by congressional definition be made non-intoxicating. accordingly, it has been held by many, if congress were to substitute ten per cent., say, for one-half of one per cent., in the volstead act, by which means beer and light wines would be legitimated, the supreme court would uphold the law and a great relief from the present oppressive conditions would by this very simple means be accomplished. what the supreme court would actually say of such a law i am far from bold enough to attempt to say. that the law would not be an execution of the intent of the eighteenth amendment is plain enough; and it would be a much more substantial transgression against its purpose than is the one-half of one per cent. enactment. nevertheless it is quite possible that the supreme court would decide that this deviation to the right of the zero mark is as much within the discretion of congress as was the volstead deviation to the left. certainly the possibility at least exists that this would be so. but whether this be so or not, it is quite plain that congress, if it really wishes to do so, can put the country into the position where prohibition will either draw the line above the beer-and-wine point or go out altogether. for if it were to pass an act repealing the volstead law, and in a separate act, passed practically at the same time but after the repealing act, enact a ten per cent. prohibition law (or some similar percentage) what would be the result? certainly there is nothing unconstitutional in repealing the volstead act. there would have been nothing unconstitutional in a failure of congress to pass any act enforcing the eighteenth amendment. the supreme court can put out of action a law that congress has passed, on the ground of unconstitutionality; but it cannot put into action a law that congress has not passed. and a law repealed is the same as a law that has not been passed. thus if congress really wished to legitimate beer and wine, it could do so; leaving it to the supreme court to declare whether a law prohibiting strong alcoholic drinks was or was not more of an enforcement of the eighteenth amendment than no law at all--for the only alternative the court would have before it would be that law or nothing! i do not say that i favor this procedure; for it would certainly not be an honest fulfilment of the requirements of the eighteenth amendment. to have a law which professes to carry out an injunction of the constitution but which does not do so is a thing to be deplored. but is it more to be deplored than to have a law which in its terms does carry out the injunction of the constitution but which in its actual operation does no such thing? a law to the violation of which in a vast class of instances--the millions of instances of home brew--the government deliberately shuts its eyes? a law the violation of which in the class of instances in which the government does seriously undertake to enforce it--bootlegging, smuggling and moonshining--is condoned, aided and abetted by hundreds of thousands of our best citizens? it is, as i have said in an early chapter, a choice of evils; and it is not easy to decide between them. on the one hand, we have the disrespect of the constitution involved in the enactment by congress of a law which it knows to be less than a fulfilment of the constitution's mandate. on the other hand we have the disrespect of the law involved in its daily violation by millions of citizens who break it without the slightest compunction or sense of guilt, and in the deliberate failure of the government to so much as take cognizance of the most numerous class of those violations. in favor of the former course--the passing of a wine-and-beer law--it may at least be said that the offense, whether it be great or small, is committed once for all by a single action of congress, which, if left undisturbed, would probably before long be generally accepted as taking the place of the amendment itself. a law permitting wine and beer but forbidding stronger drinks would have so much more public sentiment behind it than the present law that it would probably be decently enforced, and not very widely resisted; and though such a law would be justly objected to as not an honest fulfilment of the eighteenth amendment, it would, i believe, in its practical effect, be far less demoralizing than the existing statute, the volstead act. accordingly, while i cannot view the enactment of such a law with unalloyed satisfaction, i think that, in the situation into which we have been put by the eighteenth amendment, the proposal of a wine-and-beer law to displace the volstead law deserves the support of good citizens as a practical measure which would effect a great improvement on the present state of things. chapter ix prohibition and liberty liberty is not to-day the watchword that it was a hundred years ago, or fifty years ago, or thirty years ago. though there may be much doubt as to the causes of the change, it must be admitted as a fact that the feeling that liberty is in itself one of the prime objects of human desire, a precious thing to be struggled for when denied and to be jealously defended when possessed, has not so strong a hold on men's minds at this time as it had in former generations. some of the chief reasons for this change are not, however, far to seek. in the tremendous movement, political and economic, that has marked the past hundred years, three ideas have been dominant--democracy, efficiency, humanitarianism. none of these three ideas is inherently bound up with the idea of liberty; and indeed each one of the three contains the seed of marked hostility to the idea of liberty. this is more true, and more obviously true, of efficiency and of humanitarianism than it is of democracy; but it is true in no small measure of democracy also. for people intent upon the idea that government must be democratic that is, must reflect the will of the majority naturally concentrate upon the effort to organize the majority and increase its power; a process which throws into the shade regard for individual rights and liberties, and even tends to put them somewhat in the light of obstacles to the great aim. furthermore, the democratic movement has set for itself objects beyond the sphere of government; and in the domain of economic control, democracy if that is the right word for it must strive for collective power, as distinguished from individual liberty, even more intently than in the field of government. however, in the case of democracy, there is at least no _inherent opposition_ to liberty; such opposition as develops out of it may be regarded as comparatively accidental. not so with efficiency or humanitarianism. even here, however, i feel that a word of warning is necessary. i am not speaking of the highest and truest efficiency, or of the most far-sighted and most beneficent humanitarianism. i am speaking of efficiency as understood in the common use of the term as a label; and i am speaking of humanitarianism as represented by the attitude and the mental temper of nearly all of the excellent men and women who actually represent that cause and who devote their lives to the problems of social betterment. to the efficiency expert and to his multitude of followers, the immediate increase of productivity is so absorbing an object that if it has been attained by a particular course of action, the question whether its attainment has involved a sacrifice of liberty seems to his mind absolutely trivial. of course this would not be so if the sacrifice were of a startling nature; but short of something palpably galling, something grossly offensive to the primary instincts of freemen, he simply doesn't understand how any person of sense can pretend to be concerned about it, in the face of demonstrated success from the efficiency standpoint. what is true of the apostle of efficiency, and his followers, is even more emphatically true of the humanitarian. and, difficult as many people find it to stand out against the position of the efficiency advocate, it is far more difficult to dissent from that of the devotee of humanitarianism. in the case of the first, one has to brace up one's intellect to resist a plausible and enticing doctrine; in the case of the second, one must, in a sense, harden one's heart as well as stiffen one's mind. for here one has to deal not with a mere calculation of a general increase of prosperity or comfort, but with the direct extirpation of vice and misery which no decent person can contemplate without keen distress. if the humanitarian finds the principle of liberty thrust in the way of his task of healing and rescue, he will repel with scorn the idea that any such abstraction should be permitted to impede his work of salvation; and especially if the idea of liberty has, through other causes, suffered a decline from its once high authority he will find multitudes ready to share his indignation. and he will find still greater multitudes who do not share his indignation, and in their hearts feel much misgiving over the invasion of liberty, but who are without the firmness of conviction, or without the moral courage, necessary to the assertion of principle when such assertion brings with it the danger of social opprobrium. the leaders in humanitarian reforms, and their most active followers, are, as a rule, men and women of high moral nature, and whether wise or unwise, broad-minded or narrow and fanatical, are justly credited with being actuated by a good motive; unfortunately, however, these attributes rarely prevent them from making reckless statements as to the facts of the matter with which they are dealing, nor from indulging in calumnious abuse of those who oppose them. hence thousands of persons really averse to their programme give tacit or lukewarm assent to it rather than incur the odium which outspoken opposition would invite; and accordingly, true though it is that the idea of liberty is not cherished so ardently or so universally as in a former day, the decline into which it has fallen in men's hearts and minds is by no means so great as surface indications make it seem. on the one hand, the efficiency people and the professional humanitarians are, like all reformers and agitators, abnormally vocal; and on the other hand the lovers of the old-fashioned principle of liberty are abnormally silent, so far as any public manifestation is concerned. in the foregoing i have admitted, i think, as great a decline in the current prestige of the idea of liberty as would be claimed by the most enthusiastic efficiency man or the most ardent humanitarian. i now wish to insist upon the other side of the matter. persons who are always ready to be carried away with the current--and their name is legion--constantly make the mistake of imagining that the latest thing is the last. they are the first to throw aside old and venerable notions as outworn; they look with condescending pity upon those who are so dull as not to recognize the infinite potency of change; and yet, curiously enough, they never think of the possibility of a change which may reverse the current of to-day just as the current of to-day has reversed that of yesterday. the tree of liberty is less flourishing to-day than it was fifty or a hundred years ago; its leaves are not so green, and it is not so much the object of universal admiration and affection. but its roots are deep down in the soil; and it supplies a need of mankind too fundamental, feeds an aspiration too closely linked with all that elevates and enriches human nature, to permit of its being permanently neglected or allowed to fall into decay. and even at this very time, as i have indicated above, the mass of the people and i mean great as well as small, cultured and wealthy as well as ignorant and poor retain their instinctive attachment to the idea of liberty. it is chiefly in a small, but extremely prominent and influential, body of over-sophisticated people--specialists of one kind or another--that the principle of liberty has fallen into the disrepute to which i have referred. the prime reason why the prohibition law is so light-heartedly violated by all sorts and conditions of men, why it is held in contempt by hundreds of thousands of our best and most respected citizens, is that the law is a gross outrage upon personal liberty. many, indeed, would commit the violation as a mere matter of self-indulgence; but it is absurd to suppose that this would be done, as it is done, by thousands of persons of the highest type of character and citizenship. these people are sustained by the consciousness that, though their conduct may be open to criticism, it at least has the justification of being a revolt against a law--a law unrepealable by any ordinary process--that strikes at the foundations of liberty. defenders of prohibition seek to do away with the objection to it as an invasion of personal liberty by pointing out that all submission to civil government is in the nature of a surrender of personal liberty. this is true enough, but only a shallow mind can be content with this cheap and easy disposition of the question. to any one who stops to think of the subject with some intelligence it must be evident that the argument proves either too much or nothing at all. if it means that no proposed restriction can properly be objected to as an invasion of personal liberty, because all restrictions are on the same footing as part of the order of society, it means what every man of sense would at once declare to be preposterous; and if it does not mean that it leaves the question at issue wholly untouched. submission to an orderly government does, of course, involve the surrender of one's personal freedom in countless directions. but speaking broadly, such surrender is exacted, under what are generally known as "free institutions," only to the extent to which the right of one man to do as he pleases has to be restricted in order to secure the elementary rights of other men from violation, or to preserve conditions that are essential to the general welfare. if a steals, he steals from b; if he murders, he kills b; if he commits arson, he sets fire to b's house. if a man makes a loud noise in the street, he disturbs the quiet of hundreds of his fellow citizens, and may make life quite unendurable to them. there are complexities into which i cannot enter in such matters as sunday closing and kindred regulations; but upon examination it is easily enough seen that they fall in essence under the same principle--the principle of restraint upon one individual to prevent him from injuring not himself, but others. a law punishing drunkenness, which is a public nuisance, comes under the head i have been speaking of; a law forbidding a man to drink for fear that he may become a drunkard does not. and in fact the prohibitionists themselves instinctively recognize the difference, and avoid, so far as they can, offending the sense of liberty by so direct an attack upon it. it is safe to say that if the eighteenth amendment had undertaken to make the _drinking_ of liquor a crime, instead of the _manufacture and sale_ of it, it could not have been passed or come anywhere near being passed. there is hardly a senator or a representative that would not have recoiled from a proposal so palpably offensive to the instinct of liberty. yet precisely this is the real object of the eighteenth amendment; its purpose and, if enforced, its practical effect is to make it permanently a crime against the national government for an american to drink a glass of beer or wine. the legislators, state and national, who enacted it knew this perfectly well; yet if the thing had been put into the amendment in so many words, hardly a man of them would have cast his vote for it. the phenomenon is not so strange, or so novel, as it might seem; it has a standard prototype in the history of rome. the roman people had a rooted aversion and hostility to kings; and no caesar would ever have thought of calling himself _rex_. but _imperator_ went down quite smoothly, and did just as well. in addition to its being a regulation of individual conduct in a matter which is in its nature the individual's own concern, prohibition differs in another essential respect from those restrictions upon liberty which form a legitimate and necessary part of the operation of civil government. to put a governmental ban upon all alcoholic drinks is to forbid the _use_ of a thing in order to prevent its _abuse_. a of course there are fanatics who declare--and believe--that _all_ indulgence in alcoholic drink, however moderate, is abuse; but to justify prohibition on that ground would be to accept a doctrine even more dangerous to liberty. it is bad enough to justify the proscription of an innocent indulgence on the ground that there is danger of its being carried beyond the point of innocence; but it is far worse to forbid it on the ground that, however innocent and beneficial a moderate indulgence may seem to millions of people, it is not regarded as good for them by others. the only thing that lends dignity to the prohibition cause is the undeniable fact that drunkenness is the source of a vast amount of evil and wretchedness; the position of those who declare that all objections must be waived in the presence of this paramount consideration is respectable, though in my judgment utterly wrong. but any man who justifies prohibition on the ground that drinking is an evil, no matter how temperate, is either a man of narrow and stupid mind or is utterly blind to the value of human liberty. the ardent old-time prohibitionist--the man who thinks, however mistakenly, that the abolition of intoxicating drinks means the salvation of mankind--counts the impairment of liberty as a small matter in comparison with his world-saving reform; this is a position from which one cannot withhold a certain measure of sympathy and respect. but to justify the sacrifice of liberty on the ground that the man who is deprived of it will be somewhat better off without it is to assume a position that is at once contemptible and in the highest degree dangerous. contemptible, because it argues a total failure to understand what liberty means to mankind; dangerous, because there is no limit to the monstrosities of legislation which may flow from the acceptance of such a view. esau _sold_ his birthright to jacob for a mess of pottage which he wanted; these people would rob us of our birthright and by way of compensation thrust upon us a mess of pottage for which we have no desire. rejecting, then, the preposterous notion of extreme fanatics--whether the fanatics of science or the fanatics of moral reform--we have in prohibition a restraint upon the liberty of the individual which is designed not to protect the rights of other individuals or to serve the manifest requirements of civil government, but to prevent the individual from injuring himself by pursuing his own happiness in his own way; the case being further aggravated by the circumstance that in order to make this injury impossible he is denied even such access to the forbidden thing as would not--except in a sense that it is absurd to consider--be injurious. now this may be benevolent despotism, but despotism it is; and the people that accustoms itself to the acceptance of such despotism, whether at the hands of a monarch, or an oligarchy, or a democracy, has abandoned the cause of liberty. for there is hardly any conceivable encroachment upon individual freedom which would be a more flagrant offense against that principle than is one that makes an iron-bound rule commanding a man to conform his personal habits to the judgment of his rulers as to what is best for him. i do not mean to assert that it necessarily follows that such encroachments will actually come thick and fast on the heels of prohibition. any specific proposal will, of course, be opposed by those who do not like it, and may have a much harder time than prohibition to acquire the following necessary to bring about its adoption. but the resistance to it on specific grounds will lack the strength which it would derive from a profound respect for the general principle of liberty; whatever else may be said against it, it will be impossible to make good the objection that it sets an evil precedent of disregard for the claims of that principle. the eighteenth amendment is so gross an instance of such disregard that it can hardly be surpassed by anything that is at all likely to be proposed. and if the establishment of that precedent should fail actually to work so disastrous an injury to the cause of liberty, we must thank the wide-spread and impressive resistance that it has aroused. had the people meekly bowed their heads to the yoke, the prohibition amendment would furnish unfailing inspiration and unstinted encouragement to every new attack upon personal liberty; as it is, we may be permitted to hope that its injury to our future as a free people will prove to be neither so profound nor so lasting as in its nature it is calculated to be. before dismissing this subject it will be well to consider one favorite argument of those who contend that prohibition is no more obnoxious to the charge of being a violation of personal liberty than are certain other laws which are accepted as matters of course. a law prohibiting narcotic drugs, they say, imposes a restraint upon personal liberty of the same sort as does a law prohibiting alcoholic liquors. and it must be admitted that there is some plausibility in the argument. the answer to it is not so simple as that to the broader pleas which have been discussed above. yet the answer is not less conclusive. there is no principle of human conduct that can be applied with undeviating rigor to all cases; and indeed it is part of the price of the maintenance of the principle that it shall be waived in extreme instances in which its rigorous enforcement would shock the common instincts of mankind. illustrations of this can be found in almost every domain of human action in the everyday life of each one of us, in the practice of the professions, in the procedure of courts and juries, as well as in the field of law-making. it is wrong to tell a lie, and there are a few doctrinaire extremists who maintain that lying is not excusable under any circumstances; but the common sense of mankind declares that it is right for a man to lie in order to deceive a murderer who is seeking his mother's life. physicians almost unanimously profess, and honestly profess, the principle that human life must be preserved as long as possible, no matter how desperate the case may seem; yet i doubt whether there is a single physician who does not mercifully refrain from prolonging life by all possible means in cases of extreme and hopeless agony. murder is murder, and it is the sworn duty of juries to find accordingly; yet the doctrine of the "unwritten law"--while unquestionably far too often resorted to, and thus constituting a grave defect in our administration of criminal justice--is in some extreme cases properly invoked to prevent an outrage on the elementary instincts of justice. in all these instances we have a principle universally acknowledged and profoundly respected; and the waiver of it in extreme cases, so far from weakening the principle, actually strengthens it since if it absolutely never bent it would be sure to break. and so it is with the basic principles of legislation. to forbid the use of narcotic drugs is a restraint of liberty of the same _kind_ as to forbid the use of alcoholic liquors; but in _degree_ the two are wide as the poles asunder. the use of narcotic drugs (except as medicine) is so unmitigatedly harmful that there is perhaps hardly a human being who contends that it is otherwise. people _crave_ it, but they are ashamed of the craving. it plays no part in any acknowledged form of human intercourse; it is connected with no joys or benefits that normal human beings openly prize. a thing which is so wholly evil, and which, moreover, so swiftly and insidiously renders powerless the will of those who--perhaps by some accident--once begin to indulge in it, stands outside the category alike of the ordinary objects of human desire and the ordinary causes of human degradation. to make an exception to the principle of liberty in such a case is to do just what common sense dictates in scores of instances where the strict application of a general principle to extreme cases would involve an intolerable sacrifice of good in order to remove a mere superficial appearance of wrong. to make the prohibition of narcotic drugs an adequate reason for not objecting to the prohibition of alcoholic drinks would be like calling upon physicians to throw into the scrap heap their principle of the absolute sanctity of human life because they do not apply that principle with literal rigor in cases where to do so would be an act of inhuman and unmitigated cruelty. chapter x prohibition and socialism in the foregoing chapter i have said that while absorption in the idea of democracy has had a tendency to impair devotion to the idea of liberty, yet that in democracy itself there is no inherent opposition to liberty. the danger to individual liberty in a democracy is of the same nature as the danger to individual liberty in a monarchy or an oligarchy; whether power be held by one man, or by a thousand, or by a majority out of a hundred million, it is equally possible for the governing power on the one hand to respect, or on the other hand to ignore, the right of individuals to the free play of their individual powers, the exercise of their individual predilections, the leading of their individual lives according to their own notions of what is right or desirable. a monarch of enlightened and liberal mind will respect that right, and limit his encroachments upon it to the minimum required for the essential objects of reasonable government; so, too, will a democracy if it is of like temper and intelligence. but it is not so with socialism. numerous as are the varieties of socialism, they all agree in being inherently antagonistic to individualism. it may be pleaded, in criticism of this assertion, that all government is opposed to individualism; that the difference in this respect between socialism and other forms of civil organization is only one of degree; that we make a surrender of individuality, as well as of liberty, when we consent to live in any organized form of society. it is not worth while to dispute the point; the difference may, if one chooses, be regarded as only a difference of degree. but when a difference of degree goes to such a point that what is minor, incidental, exceptional in the one case, is paramount, essential, pervasive in the other, the difference is, for all the purposes of thinking, equivalent to a difference of kind. socialism is in its very essence opposed to individualism. it makes the collective welfare not an incidental concern of each man's daily life, but his primary concern. the standard it sets up, the regulations it establishes, are not things that a man must merely take account of as special restraints on his freedom, exceptional limitations on the exercise of his individuality; they constitute the basic conditions of his life. when the socialist movement was in its infancy in this country--though it had made great headway in several of the leading countries of europe--the customary way of disposing of it was with a mere wave of the hand. socialism can never work; it is contrary to human nature--these simple assertions were regarded by nearly all conservatives as sufficient to settle the matter in the minds of all sensible persons that is now no longer so much the fashion; yet i have no doubt that a very large proportion of those who are opposed to socialism are still content with this way of disposing of it. but socialism has steadily--though of course with fluctuations --increased in strength, in america as well as in europe, for many decades; and it would be folly to imagine that mere declarations of its being "impracticable," or "contrary to human nature," will suffice to check it. millions of men and women, here in america--ranging in intellect all the way from the most cultured to the most ignorant--are filled with an ardent faith that in socialism, and in nothing else, is to be found the remedy for all the great evils under which mankind suffers; and there is no sign of slackening in the growth of this faith. when the time comes for a real test of its strength--when it shall have gathered such force as to be able to throw down a real challenge to the conservative forces in the political field--it is absurd to suppose that those who are inclined to welcome it as the salvation of the world will be frightened off by prophecies of failure. they will want to make the trial; and they will make the trial, regardless of all prophecies of disaster, if the people shall have come to believe that the object is a desirable one--that socialism is a form of life which they would like after they got it. the one great bulwark against socialism is the sentiment of liberty. if we find nothing obnoxious in universal regimentation; if we feel that life would have as much savor when all of us were told off to our tasks, or at least circumscribed and supervised in our activities, by a swarm of officials carrying out the benevolent edicts of a paternal government; if we hold as of no account the exercise of individual choice and the development of individual potentialities which are the very lifeblood of the existing order of society; if all these things hold no value for us, then we shall gravitate to socialism as surely as a river will find its way to the sea. socialism--granted its practicability, and its practicability can never be disproved except by trial, by long and repeated trial--holds out the promise of great blessings to mankind. and some of these blessings it is actually capable of furnishing, even if in the end it should prove to be a failure. above all it could completely abolish poverty--that is, anything like abject poverty. the productive power of mankind, thanks to the progress of science and invention, is now so great that, even if socialism were to bring about a very great decline of productiveness--not, to be sure, such utter blasting of productiveness as has been caused by the bolshevik insanity--there would yet be amply enough to supply, by equal distribution, the simple needs of all the people. besides the abolition of poverty, there would be the extinction of many sinister forms of competitive greed and dishonesty. to the eye of the thinking conservative, these things-poverty, greed, dishonesty--while serious evils, are but the blemishes in a great and wholesome scheme of human life; drawbacks which go with the benefits of a system in which each man is free, within certain necessary limits, to do his best or his worst; a price such as, in this imperfect world, we have to pay for anything that is worth having. but to the socialist the matter presents itself in no such light. he sees a mass of misery which he believes--and in large measure justly believes--socialism would put an end to; and he has no patience with the conservative who points out--and justly points out-- that the poverty is being steadily, though gradually, overcome in the advance of mankind under the existing order. "away with it," he says; "we cannot wait a hundred years for that which we have a right to demand today." and "away with it" we ought all to say, if socialism, while doing away with it, would not be doing away with something else of infinite value and infinite benefit to mankind, both material and spiritual; something with which is bound up the richness and zest of life, not only for what it is the fashion of radicals to call "the privileged few," but for the great mass of mankind. that something is liberty, and the individuality which is inseparably bound up with liberty. the essence of socialism is the suppression of individuality, the exaltation of the collective will and the collective interest, the submergence of the individual will and the individual interest. the particular form--even the particular degree--of coercion by which this submergence is brought about varies with the different types of socialism; but they all agree in the essential fact of the submergence. socialism may possibly be compatible with prosperity, with contentment; it is not compatible with liberty, not compatible with individuality. i am, of course, not undertaking here to discuss the merits of socialism; my purpose is only to point out that those who are hostile to socialism must cherish liberty. and it is vain to cherish liberty in the abstract if you are doing your best to dry up the very source of the love of liberty in the concrete workings of every man's daily experience. with the plain man--indeed with men in general, plain or otherwise--love of liberty, or of any elemental concept, is strong only if it is instinctive; and it cannot be instinctive if it is jarred every day by habitual and unresented experience of its opposite. prohibition is a restraint of liberty so clearly unrelated to any primary need of the state, so palpably bearing on the most personal aspect of a man's own conduct, that it is impossible to acquiesce in it and retain a genuine and lively feeling of abhorrence for any other threatened invasion of the domain of liberty which can claim the justification of being intended for the benefit of the poor or unfortunate. so long as prohibition was a local measure, so long even as it was a measure of state legislation, this effect did not follow; or, if at all, only in a small degree. people did not regard it as a dominant, and above all as a paramount and inescapable, part of the national life. but decreed for the whole nation, and imbedded permanently in the constitution, it will have an immeasurable effect in impairing that instinct of liberty which has been the very heart of the american spirit; and with the loss of that spirit will be lost the one great and enduring defense against socialism. it is not by the argumentation of economists, nor by the calculations of statisticians, that the socialist advance can be halted. the real struggle will be a struggle not of the mind but of the spirit; it will be socialism and regimentation against individualism and liberty. the cause of prohibition has owed its rapid success in no small measure to the support of great capitalists and industrialists bent upon the absorbing object of productive efficiency; but they have paid a price they little realize. for in the attainment of this minor object, they have made a tremendous breach in the greatest defense of the existing order of society against the advancing enemy. to undermine the foundations of liberty is to open the way to socialism. chapter xi is there any way out? in the second chapter of this book, i undertook to give an account of the state of mind which the enactment of the eighteenth amendment has created, and which is at the bottom of that contempt for the law whose widespread prevalence among the best elements of our population is acknowledged alike by prohibitionists and anti-prohibitionists. "people feel in their hearts," i said, "that they are confronted with no other choice but that of either submitting to the full rigor of prohibition, of trying to procure a law which nullifies the constitution, or of expressing their resentment against an outrage on the first principles of the constitution by contemptuous disregard of the law." it is a deplorable choice of evils; a state of things which it is hardly too much to call appalling in its potentialities of civic demoralization. and one who realizes the gravity of the injury that a long continuance of this situation will inevitably inflict upon our institutions and our national character must ask whether there is any practical possibility of escape from it. the right means, and the only entirely satisfactory means, of escape from it is through the undoing of the error which brought it about--that is, through the repeal of the eighteenth amendment. towards that end many earnest and patriotic citizens are working; but of course they realize the stupendous difficulty of the task they have undertaken. as a rule, these men, while working for the distant goal of repeal of the amendment, are seeking to substitute for the volstead act a law which will permit the manufacture and sale of beer and light wines; a plan which, as i have elsewhere stated, while by no means free from grave objection--for it is clearly not in keeping with the intent of the eighteenth amendment--would, in my judgment, be an improvement on the present state of things. but it is not pleasant to contemplate a situation in which, to avoid something still worse, the national legislature is driven to the deliberate enactment of a law that flies in the face of a mandate of the constitution. a possible plan exists, however, which is not open to this objection, and yet the execution of which would not present such terrific difficulty as would the proposal of a simple repeal of the eighteenth amendment. that amendment imbeds prohibition in the organic law of the country, and thus not only imposes it upon the individual states regardless of what their desires may be, but takes away from the nation itself the right to legislate upon the subject by the ordinary processes of law-making. now an amendment repealing the eighteenth amendment but at the same time conferring upon congress the power to make laws concerning the manufacture, sale and transportation of intoxicating liquors, would make it possible for congress to pass a volstead act, or a beer-and-wine act, or no liquor act at all, just as its own judgment or desire might dictate. it would give the federal government a power which i think it would be far more wholesome to reserve to the states; but it would get rid of the worst part of the eighteenth amendment. and it would have, i think, an incomparably more favorable reception, from the start, than would a proposal of simple repeal. for the public could readily be brought to see the reasonableness of giving the nation a chance, through its representatives at washington, to express its will on the subject from time to time, and the unreasonableness of binding generation after generation to helpless submission. the plea of majority rule is always a taking one in this country; and it is rarely that that plea rests on stronger ground than it would in this instance. the one strong argument which might be urged against the proposal--namely that such a provision would make prohibition a constant issue in national elections, while the actual incorporation of prohibition in the constitution settles the matter once for all--has been deprived of all its force by our actual experience. so far from settling the matter once for all, the eighteenth amendment has been a frightful breeder of unsettlement and contention, which bids fair to continue indefinitely. i have offered this suggestion for what it may be worth as a practical proposal; it seems certainly deserving of discussion, and i could not refrain from putting it forward as a possible means of relief from an intolerable situation. but i do not wish to wind up on that note. the right solution--a solution incomparably better than this which i have suggested on account of its apparently better chance of acceptance--is the outright repeal of the eighteenth amendment. and moreover, the primary need of this moment is not so much any practical proposal likely to be quickly realized as the awakening of the public mind to the fundamental issues of the case --the essential principles of law, of government, and of individual life which are so flagrantly sinned against by the prohibition amendment. to the exposition of those fundamental issues this little book has been almost exclusively confined. it has left untouched a score of aspects of the question of drink, and of the prohibition of drink, which it would have been interesting to discuss, and the discussion of which would, i feel sure, have added to the strength of the argument i have endeavored to present. but there is an advantage, too, in keeping to the high points. it is not to a multiplicity of details that one must trust in a case like this. what is needed above all is a clear and wholehearted recognition of fundamentals. and i do not believe that the american people have got so far away from their fundamentals that such recognition will be denied when the case is clearly put before them. there is one and only one thing that could justify such a violation of liberty and of the cardinal principles of rational government as is embodied in the eighteenth amendment. in the face of desperate necessity, there may be justification for the most desperate remedy. but so far from this being a case of desperate necessity, nothing is more unanimously acknowledged by all except those who labor under an obsession, than that the evil of drink has been steadily diminishing. not only during the period of prohibition agitation, but for many decades before that, drunkenness had been rapidly declining, and both temperate drinking and total abstinence correspondingly increasing. it is unnecessary to appeal to statistics. the familiar experience of every man whose memory runs back twenty, or forty, or sixty years, is sufficient to put the case beyond question; and every species of literary and historical record confirms the conclusion. this violent assault upon liberty, this crude defiance of the most settled principles of lawmaking and of government, this division of the country--as it has been well expressed--into the hunters and the hunted, this sowing of dragons' teeth in the shape of lawlessness and contempt for law, has not been the dictate of imperious necessity, but the indulgence of the crude desire of a highly organized but one-idead minority to impose its standards of conduct upon all of the american people. to shake off this tyranny is one of the worthiest objects to which good americans can devote themselves. to shake it off would mean not only to regain what has been lost by this particular enactment, but to forefend the infliction of similar outrages in the future. if it is allowed to stand, there is no telling in what quarter the next invasion of liberty will be made by fanatics possessed with the itch for perfection. i am not thinking of tobacco, or anything of the kind; twenty years from now, or fifty years from now, it may be religion, or some other domain of life which at the present moment seems free from the danger of attack. the time to call a halt is now; and the way to call a halt is to win back the ground that has already been lost. to do that will be a splendid victory for all that we used to think of as american--for liberty, for individuality, for the freedom of each man to conduct his own life in his own way so long as he does not violate the rights of others, for the responsibility of each man for the evils he brings upon himself by the abuse of that freedom. may the day be not far distant when we shall once more be a nation of sturdy freemen--not kept from mischief to ourselves by a paternal law copper-fastened in the constitution, not watched like children by a host of guardians and spies and informers, but upstanding americans loyally obedient to the constitution, because living under a constitution which a people of manly freemen can wholeheartedly respect and cherish. the end in the sweet dry and dry by christopher morley and bart haley illustrated by gluyas williams dedicated to g. k. chesterton most delightful of modern decanterbury pilgrims foreword as far as this book is concerned, the public may take it, or the public may let it alone. but the authors feel it their duty to say that no deductions as to their own private habits are to be made from the story here offered. with its composition they have beguiled the moments of the valley of the shadow. acknowledgement should be made to the evening public ledger of philadelphia for permission to reprint the ditty included in chapter vi. the public will forgive this being only a brief preface, for at the moment of writing the time is short. wishing you a merry abstinence, and looking forward to meeting you some day in europe, christopher morley, bart haley. philadelphia, ten minutes before midnight, june , . table of contents i. mystery of the unexpected julep ii. the house on caraway street iii. incident of the gooseberry bombs iv. the great war begins v. the treachery of miss chuff vi. departed spirits vii. the decanterbury pilgrims viii. with benefit of clergy ix. the election x. e pluribus unum! xi. it's a long worm that has no turning in the sweet dry and dry chapter i mystery of the unexpected julep dunraven bleak, the managing editor of the evening balloon, sat at his desk in the center of the local-room, under a furious cone of electric light. it was six o'clock of a warm summer afternoon: he was filling his pipe and turning over the pages of the final edition of the paper, which had just come up from the press-room. after the turmoil of the day the room had quieted, most of the reporters had left, and the shaded lamps shone upon empty tables and a floor strewn ankle-deep with papers. nearby sat the city editor, checking over the list of assignments for the next morning. from an adjoining kennel issued occasional deep groans and a strong whiff of savage shag tobacco, blown outward by the droning gust of an electric fan. these proved that the cartoonist (a man whose sprightly drawings were born to an obbligato of vehement blasphemy) was at work within. mr. bleak was just beginning to recuperate from the incessant vigilance of the day's work. there was an unconscious pathos in his lean, desiccated figure as he rose and crossed the room to the green glass drinking-fountain. after the custom of experienced newspapermen, he rapidly twirled a makeshift cup out of a sheet of copy paper. he poured himself a draught of clear but rather tepid water, and drank it without noticeable relish. his lifted head betrayed only the automatic thankfulness of the domestic fowl. there had been a time when six o'clock meant something better than a paper goblet of lukewarm filtration. he sat down at his desk again. he had loaded his pipe sedulously with an extra fine blend which he kept in his desk drawer for smoking during rare moments of relaxation when he had leisure to savor it. as he reached for a match he was meditating a genial remark to the city editor, when he discovered that there was only one tandsticker in the box. he struck it, and the blazing head flew off upon the cream-colored thigh of his palm beach suit. his naturally placid temper, undermined by thirty years of newspaper work and two years of prohibition, flamed up also. with a loud scream of rage and a curse against sweden, he leaped to his feet and shook the glowing cinder from his person. facing him he found a stranger who had entered the room quietly and unobserved. this was a huge man, clad in a sober uniform of gray cloth, with silver buttons and silver braid. a sam browne belt of wide blue leather marched across his extensive diagonal in a gentle curve. the band of his vizored military cap showed the initials c.p.h. in silver embroidery. his face, broad and clean-shaven, shone with a lustre which was partly warmth and partly simple friendliness. save for a certain humility of bearing, he might have been taken for the liveried door-man of a moving-picture theater or exclusive millinery shop. in one hand he carried a very large black leather suit-case. "is this mr. bleak?" he asked politely. "yes," said the editor, in surprise. his secret surmise was that some one had died and left him a legacy which would enable him to retire from newspaper work. (this is the unacknowledged dream that haunts many journalists.) mr. bleak was wondering whether this was the way in which legacies were announced. the man in the gray uniform set the bag down with great care on the large flat desk. he drew out a key and unlocked it. before opening it he looked round the room. the city editor and three reporters were watching curiously. a shy gayety twinkled in his clear blue eyes. "mr. bleak," he said, "you and these other gentlemen present are men of discretion--?" bleak made a gesture of reassurance. the other leaned over the suit-case and lifted the lid. the bag was divided into several compartments. in one, the startled editor beheld a nest of tall glasses; in another, a number of interesting flasks lying in a porcelain container among chipped ice. in the lid was an array of straws, napkins, a flat tray labeled cloves, and a bunch of what looked uncommonly like mint leaves. mr. bleak did not speak, but his pulse was disorderly. the man in gray drew out five tumblers and placed them on the desk. rapidly several bottles caught the light: there was a gesture of pouring, a clink of ice, and beneath the spellbound gaze of the watchers the glasses fumed and bubbled with a volatile potion. a glass mixing rod tinkled in the thin crystal shells, and the man of mystery deftly thrust a clump of foliage into each. a well known fragrance exhaled upon the tobacco-thickened air. "shades of the grail!" cried bleak. "mint julep!" the visitor bowed and pushed the glasses forward. "with the compliments of the corporation," he said. the city editor sprang to his feet. sagely cynical, he suspected a ruse. "it's a plant!" he exclaimed. "don't touch it! it's a trick on the part of the department of justice, trying to get us into trouble." bleak gazed angrily at the stranger. if this was indeed a federal stratagem, what an intolerably cruel one! in front of him the glasses sparkled alluringly: a delicate mist gathered on their ice-chilled curves: a pungent sweetness wavered in his nostrils. "see here!" he blurted with shrill excitement. "are you a damned government agent? if so, take your poison and get out." the tall stranger in his impressive uniform stood erect and unabashed. with affectionate care he gave the tumblers a final musical stir. "o ye of little faith!" he said calmly. the sadness of the misunderstood idealist grieved his features. "have you forgotten the miracle of cana?" from his pocket he took a card and laid it on the desk. bleak seized it. it said: the corporation for the perpetuation of happiness caraway street virgil quimbleton, associate director he stared at the pasteboard, stupefied, and handed it to the city editor. meanwhile the three reporters had drawn near. light-hearted and irresponsible souls, unoppressed by the embittered suspicion of their superiors, they nosed the floating aroma with candid hilarity. "the breath of eden!" said one. "it's a warm evening," remarked another, with seeming irrelevance. the face of virgil quimbleton, the man in gray, relaxed again at these marks of honest appreciation. he waved an encouraging arm over the crystals. "with the compliments of the corporation," he repeated. bleak and the city editor looked again at the card, and at each other. they scanned the face of their mysterious benefactor. bleak's hand went out to the nearest glass. he raised it to his lips. an almost-forgotten formula recurred to him. "down the rat-hole!" he cried, and tilted his arm. the others followed suit, and the associate director watched them with a glow of perfect altruism. the glasses were still in air when the cartoonist emerged from his room. "holy cat!" he cried in amazement. "what's going on?" he seized one of the empty vessels and sniffed it. "treason!" he exclaimed. "who's been robbing the mint?" "maybe you can have one too," said bleak, and turned to where quimbleton had been standing. but the mysterious visitor had leff the room. "you're too late, bill," said the city editor genially. "there was a kind of messiah here, but he's gone. tough luck." "say, boss," suggested one of the reporters. "there's a story in this. may i interview that guy?" bleak picked up the card and put it in his pocket. a heavenly warmth pervaded his mental fabric. "a story?" he said. "forget it! this is no story. it's a legend of the dear dead past. i'll cover this assignment myself." he borrowed a match and lit his pipe. then he put on his coat and hat and left the office. it was remarked by faithful readers of the balloon that the next day's cartoon was one of the least successful in the history of that brilliant newspaper. chapter ii the house on caraway street after telephoning to his wife that he would not be home for supper, bleak set out for caraway street. he was in that exuberant mood discernible in commuters unexpectedly spending an evening in town. instead of hurrying out to the suburbs on the : train, to mow the lawn and admire the fireflies, here he was watching the more dazzling fireflies of the city--the electric signs which were already bulbed wanly against the rich orange of the falling sun. he puffed his pipe lustily and with a jaunty condescension watched the crowds thronging the drugstores for their dram of ice-cream soda. in his bosom the secret julep tingled radiantly. at that hour of the evening the shining bustle of the central streets was drawing the life of the city to itself. in the residential by-ways through which his route took him the pavements were nearly deserted. a delicious sense of extravagant adventure possessed him. as a newspaper man, he did not feel at all sure that he was on the threshold of a printable "story"; but as a connoisseur of juleps he felt that very possibly he was on the threshold of another drink. passing a line of billboards, he noticed a brightly colored poster advertising a brand of collars. in sheer light-heartedness he drew a soft pencil from his waistcoat and adorned the comely young man on the collar poster with a heavy mustache. caraway street, with which he had not previously been familiar, proved to be a quaint little channel of old brick houses, leading into the bonfire of the summer sunset. there was nothing to distinguish number from its neighbors. he rang the bell, and there ensued a rapid clicking in the lock, indicating that the latch had been released by some one within. he pushed the door open, and entered. he had a curious sensation of having stepped into an old flemish painting. the hall in which he stood was cool and rather dark, though a bright refraction of light tossed from some upper window upon a tall mirror filled the shadow with broken spangles. through an open doorway at the rear was the green glimmer of a garden. in front of him was a mahogany sideboard. on its polished top lay two books, a box of cigars, and a cut glass decanter surrounded by several glasses. in the decanter was a pale yellow fluid which held a beam of light. the house was completely silent. somewhat abashed, he removed his hat and stood irresolute, expecting some greeting. but nothing happened. on a rack against the wall he saw a gray uniform coat like that which mr. quimbleton had worn in the balloon office, and a similar gray cap with the silver monogram. he glanced at the books. one was the rubaiyat of omar khayyam, the other was a bible, open at the second chapter of john. he was looking curiously at the decanter when a voice startled him. "dandelion wine!" it said. "will you have a glass?" he turned and saw an old gentleman with profuse white hair and beard tottering into the hall. "glad to see you, mr. bleak," said the latter. "i was expecting you." "you are very kind," said the editor. "i fear you have the advantage of me--i was told that walt whitman died in --" "nonsense!" wheezed the other with a senile chuckle. he straightened, ripped off his silver fringes, and appeared as the stalwart quimbleton himself. "forgive my precautions," he said. "i am surrounded by spies. i have to be careful. should some of my enemies learn that old mr. monkbones of caraway street is the same as virgil quimbleton of the happiness corporation, my life wouldn't be worth--well, a glass of gooseberry brandy. speaking of that, have a little of the dandelion wine." he pointed to the decanter. bleak poured himself a glass, and watched his host carefully resume the hoary wig and whiskers. they passed into the garden, a quiet green enclosure surrounded by brick walls and bright with hollyhocks and other flowers. it was overlooked by a quaint jumble of rear gables, tall chimneys and white-shuttered dormer windows. "do you play croquet?" asked quimbleton, showing a neat pattern of white hoops fixed in the shaven turf. "if so, we must have a game after supper. it's very agreeable as a quiet relaxation." mr. bleak was still trying to get his bearings. to see this robust creature gravely counterfeiting the posture of extreme old age was almost too much for his gravity. there was a bizarre absurdity in the solemn way quimbleton beamed out from his frosty and fraudulent shrubbery. something in the air of the garden, also, seemed to push bleak toward laughter. he had that sensation which we have all experienced--an unaccountable desire to roar with mirth, for no very definite cause. he bit his lip, and sought rigorously for decorum. "upon my soul," he said, "this is the most fragrant garden i ever smelt. what is that delicious odor in the air, that faint perfume--?" "that subtle sweetness?" said quimbleton, with unexpected drollery. "exactly," said bleak. "that abounding and pervasive aroma--" "that delicate bouquet--?" "quite so, that breath of myrrh--" "that balmy exhalation--?" bleak wondered if this was a game. he tried valiantly to continue. "precisely," he said, "that quintessence of--" he could coerce himself no longer, and burst into a yell of laughter. "hush!" said quimbleton, nervously. "some one may be watching us. but the fragrance of the garden is something i am rather proud of. you see, i water the flowers with champagne." "with champagne!" echoed bleak. "good heavens, man, you'll get penal servitude." "nonsense!" said quimbleton. "the eighteenth amendment says that intoxicating liquors may not be manufactured, sold or transported for beverage purposes. nothing is said about using them to irrigate the garden. i have a friend who makes this champagne himself and gives me some of it for my rose-beds. if you spray the flowers with it, and then walk round and inhale them, you get quite a genial reaction. i do it principally to annoy bishop chuff. you see, he lives next door." "bishop chuff of the pan-antis?" "yes," said quimbleton--"but don't shout! his garden adjoins this. he has a periscope that overlooks my quarters. that's why i have to wear this disguise in the garden. i think he's getting a bit suspicious. i manage to cause him a good deal of suffering with the fizz fumes from my garden. jolly idea, isn't it?" bleak was aghast at the temerity of the man. bishop chuff, the fanatical leader of the anti-everything league--jocosely known as the pan-antis--was the most feared man in america. it was he whose untiring organization had forced prohibition through the legislatures of forty states--had closed the golf links on sundays--had made it a misdemeanor to be found laughing in public. and here was this daring quimbleton, living at the very sill of the lion's den. "by means of my disguise," whispered quimbleton, "i was able to make a pleasant impression on the bishop. one evening i went to call on him. i took the precaution to eat a green persimmon beforehand, which distorted my features into such a malignant contraction of pessimism and misanthropy that i quite won his heart. he accepted an invitation to play croquet with me. that afternoon i prepared the garden with a deluge of champagne. the golden drops sparkled on every rose-petal: the lawn was drenched with it. after playing one round the bishop was gloriously inflamed. he had to be carried home, roaring the most unseemly ditties. since then, as i say, he has grown (i fear) a trifle suspicious. but let us have a bite of supper." more than once, as they sat under a thickly leafy grape arbor in the quiet green enclosure, bleak had to pinch himself to confirm the witness of his senses. a table was delicately spread with an agreeable repast of cold salmon, asparagus salad, fruits, jellies, and whipped creams. the flagon of dandelion vintage played its due part in the repast, and mr. bleak began to entertain a new respect for this common flower of which he had been unduly inappreciative. although the trellis screened them from observation, quimbleton seemed ill at ease. he kept an alert gaze roving about him, and spoke only in whispers. once, when a bird lighted in the foliage behind them, causing a sudden stir among the leaves, his shaggy beard whirled round with every symptom of panic. little by little this apprehension began to infect the journalist also. at first he had hardly restrained his mirth at the sight of this burly athlete framed in the bush of santa claus. now he began to wonder whether his escapade had been consummated at too great a risk. that old-fashioned quarter of the city was incredibly still. as the light ebbed slowly, and broad blue shadows crept across the patch of turf, they sat in a silence broken only by the wiry cheep of sparrows and the distant moan of trolley cars. the arrows of the decumbent sun gilded the ripening grapes above them. suddenly there were two loud bangs and a vicious whistle sang through the arbor. broken twigs eddied down upon the table cloth. "spotted mackerel!" cried bleak. "is some one shooting at us?" quimbleton reappeared presently from under the table. "all serene," he said. "we're safe now. that was only chuff. every night about this time he comes out on his back gallery and enjoys a little sharp-shooting. he's a very good shot, and picks off the grapes that have ripened during the day. there were only two that were really purple this evening, so now we can go ahead. unless he should send over a raiding party, we're all right." the editor solaced himself with another beaker of the dandelion wine and they finished their meal in thoughtful silence. "mr. bleak," said the other at last, "it was something more than mere desire to give you a pleasant surprise that led me to your office this afternoon. have you leisure to listen? good! please try one of these cigars. if, while i am talking, you should hear any one moving in the garden, just tap quietly on the table. tell me, have you, before to-day, ever heard of the corporation for the perpetuation of happiness?" "never," replied bleak, kindling a magnifico of remarkably rich, mild flavor. "that is as i expected," rejoined quimbleton. "we have campaigned incognito, partly by choice and partly (let me be candid) by necessity. but the time is come when we shall have to appear in the open. the last great struggle is on, and it can no longer be conducted in the dark. in the course of my remarks i may be tempted to forget our present perils. i beg of you, if you hear any sounds that seem suspicious, to notify me instantly." "pardon me," said bleak, a little uneasily; "it was my intention to catch the . train for mandrake park." the fantastic cascade of false white hair wagged gravely in the dusk. "my dear sir," said quimbleton solemnly, "i fancy you are to be gratified by a far higher destiny than catching the . . do me the honor of filling your glass. but be careful not to clink the decanter against the tumbler. there is every probability that vigilant ears are on the alert." there was a brief silence, and bleak wondered (a trifle wildly) if he were dreaming. the cigar on the opposite side of the little table glowed rosily several times, and then quimbleton's voice resumed, in a deep undertone. "it is necessary to tell you," he said, "that the corporation was founded a number of years ago, long before the events of the fatal year and the eighteenth amendment to the constitution. the incident of this afternoon may have caused you to think that what is vulgarly called booze is the chief preoccupation of our society. that is not so. we were organized at first simply to bring merriment and good cheer into the lives of those who have found the vexations of modern life too trying. in our early days we carried on an excellent (though unsystematic) guerilla warfare against human suffering. "in this (let me admit it frankly) we were to a great degree selfish. as you are aware, the essence of humor is surprise: we found a delicious humor in our campaign of surprising woebegone humanity in moments of crisis. for instance, we used to picket the railway terminals to console commuters who had just missed their trains. we found it uproariously funny to approach a perspiring suburbanite, who had missed the train (let us say) to mandrake park, and to press upon him, with the compliments of the corporation, some consolatory souvenir--a box of cigars, perhaps, or a basket of rare fruit. housewives, groaning over their endless routine of bathing the baby, ordering the meals, sweeping the floors and so on, would be amazed by the sudden appearance of one of our deputies, in the service uniform of gray and silver, equipped with vacuum cleaner and electric baby-washing machine, to take over the domestic chores for one day. the troubles of lovers were under our special care. we saw how much anguish is caused by the passion of jealousy. many an engaged damsel, tempted to mild escapade in some perfumed conservatory, found her heart chilled by the stern eye of a uniformed c.p.h. agent lurking behind a potted hydrangea. we hired bands of urchins to make faces at evil old men who plate-glass themselves in the windows of clubs. many a husband, wondering desperately which hat or which tie to select, has been surprised by the appearance of one of our staff at his elbow, tactfully pointing out which article would best harmonize with his complexion and station in life. ladies who insisted on overpowdering their noses were quietly waylaid by one of our matrons, and the excess of rice-dust removed. a whole shipload of people who persisted in eating onions were gathered (without any publicity) into a concentration camp, and in company with several popular comedians, deported to a coral atoll. i could enumerate thousands of such instances. for several years we worked in this unassuming way, trying to add to the sum of human happiness." quimbleton's white beard shone with a pinkish brightness as he inhaled heavily on his cigar. "now, mr. bleak," he went on, "i come to you because we need your help. we can no longer maintain a light-hearted sniping campaign on the enemies of human happiness. this is a death struggle. you are aware that chuff and his legions are planning a tremendous parade for to-morrow. you know that it will be the most startling demonstration of its kind ever arranged. one hundred thousand pan-antis will parade on the boulevard, with a hundred brass bands, led by the bishop himself on his coal black horse. do you know the purpose of the parade?" "in a general way," said bleak, "i suppose it is to give publicity to the prohibition cause." "they have kept their malign scheme entirely secret," said quimbleton. "you, as a newspaper man, should know it. does the (so-called) cause of prohibition require publicity? nonsense! prohibition is already in effect. the purpose of the parade is to undermine the splendid work our corporation has been doing for the past two years. as soon as the fatal amendment was passed we set to work to teach people how to brew beverages of their own, in their own homes. as you know, very delicious wine may be made from almost every vegetable and fruit. potatoes, tomatoes, rhubarb, currants, blackberries, gooseberries, raisins, apples--all these are susceptible of fermentation, transforming their juices into desirable vintages. we specialized on such beverages. we printed and distributed millions of recipes. chuff countered by passing laws that no printed recipes could circulate through the mails. we had motion pictures filmed, showing the eager public how to perform these simple and cheering processes. chuff thereupon had motion pictures banned. he would abolish the principle of fermentation itself if he could. "we composed a little song-recipe for dandelion wine, sending thousands of minstrels to sing it about the country until the people should memorize it. now chuff threatens to forbid singing and the memorizing of poetry. at this moment he has fifty thousand zealots working in the countryside collecting and burning dandelion seeds so as to reduce the crop next spring. "the purpose of his parade to-morrow is devastating in its simplicity. having learned that wine may be made from gooseberries, he proposes (as a first step) to abolish them altogether. this is to be the nineteenth amendment to the constitution. no gooseberries shall be grown upon the soil of the united states, or imported from abroad. raisins too, since it is said that one raisin in a bottle of grape juice can cause it to bubble in illicit fashion, are to be put in the category of deadly weapons. any one found carrying a concealed raisin will go before a firing squad. and chuff threatens to abolish all vegetables of every kind if necessary." bleak sat in horrified silence. "there is another aspect of the matter," said quimbleton, "that touches your profession very closely. bishop chuff is greatly annoyed at the persistent use of the printing press to issue clandestine vinous recipes. he solemnly threatens, if this continues, to abolish the printing press. this is to be the twentieth amendment. no printing press shall be used in the territory of the united states. any man found with a printing press concealed about his person shall be sentenced to life imprisonment. even the congressional record is to be written entirely by hand." the editor was unable to speak. he reached for the decanter, but found it empty. "very well then," said quimbleton. "the facts are before you. i suppose the evening balloon has made its customary enterprising preparations to report the big parade?" "why, yes," said bleak. "three photographers and three of our most brilliant reporters have been assigned to cover the event. one of the stories, dealing with pathetic incidents of the procession, has already been written--cases of women swooning in the vast throng, and so on. the balloon is always first," he added, by force of habit. "i want you to discard all your plans for describing the parade," said quimbleton. "i am about to give you the greatest scoop in the history of journalism. the procession will break up in confusion. all that will be necessary to say can be said in half a dozen lines, which i will give you now. i suggest that you print them on your front page in the largest possible type." from his pocket he took a sheet of paper, neatly folded, and handed it across the table. "what on earth do you mean?" asked bleak. "how can you know what will happen?" "the corporation has spoken," said his host. "let us go indoors, where you can read what i have written." in a small handsomely appointed library bleak opened the paper. it was a sheet of official stationery and read as follows:-- the corporation for the perpetuation of happiness cable address: hapcorp virgil quimbleton, associate director caraway street owing to the intoxication of bishop chuff, the projected parade of the pan-antis broke up in confusion. federal home for inebriates at cana, n.j., reopened after two years' vacation. "is this straight stuff?" asked bleak tremulously. "my right hand upon it," cried quimbleton, tearing off his beard in his earnestness. "then good-night!" said bleak. "i must get back to the office." chapter iii incident of the gooseberry bombs the day of the great parade dawned dazzling and clear, with every promise of heat. from the first blue of morning, while the streets were still cool and marble front steps moist from housemaids' sluicings, crowds of bishop chuff's marchers came pouring into the city. at the prearranged mobilization points, where bands were stationed to keep the throngs amused until the immense procession could be ranged in line, the press was terrific. every trolley, every suburban train, every jitney, was crammed with the pan-antis, clad in white, carrying the buttons, ribbons and banners that had been prepared for this great occasion. down with gooseberries, the new menace! was the terrifying legend printed on these emblems. the boulevard had been roped off by the police by eight o'clock, and the pavements were swarming with citizens, many of whom had camped there all night in order to witness this tremendous spectacle. as the sun surged pitilessly higher, the temperature became painful. the asphalt streets grew soft under the twingeing feet of the pan-antis, and waves of heat radiation shimmered along the vista of the magnificent highway. to keep themselves cheerful the legions of chuff sang their new gooseberry anthem, written by miss theodolinda chuff (the bishop's daughter) to the air of "marching through georgia." the rousing strains rose in unison from thousands of earnest throats. the majesty of the song cannot be comprehended unless the reader will permit himself to hum to the familiar tune:-- root up every gooseberry where satan winks his eye-- we will make the sinful earth a credit by and by: europe may be stubborn, but we'll legislate her dry, and then we'll tackle the planets. chorus: hurrah! hurrah! we're anti-everything-- hurrah! hurrah! an end to joy we sing: come let's make life doleful and then death will lose its sting, happiness is only a habit! come then, all ye citizens, and join our stern verein: we're the ones that put the crimp in whiskey, beer and wine; booze is gone and soon we'll make tobacco fall in line, and then we'll tackle the planets. chorus: hurrah! hurrah! we're anti-everything-- hurrah! hurrah! an end to joy we sing: come let's make life doleful and then death will lose its sting, happiness is only a habit! we'll abolish every fruit attempting to ferment-- we will alter nature's laws and teach her to repent: let the fatal gooseberry proceed where cocktails went, and then we'll tackle the planets. chorus as before. from the beginning of the day, however, it became apparent that there was a concerted movement under way to heckle the pan-antis. as the gooseberry anthem came to an end a number of men were observed on the skyline of a tall building, wig-wagging with flags. all eyes were turned aloft, and much speculation ensued among the waiting thousands as to the meaning of the signals. then a cry of anger burst from one of the section leaders, who was acquainted with the morse code. the flags were spelling what a day for a drink! all down the boulevard the white and gold banners tossed in anger. to those above, the mass of agitated chuffs looked like a field of daisies in a wind. shortly afterward the familiar buzz of airplane motors was heard, and three silver-gray machines came coasting above the channel of the boulevard. they flew low, and it was easy to read the initials c.p.h. painted on the nether surface of their wings. over the front ranks of the parade (which was beginning to fall in line) they executed a series of fantastic twirls. then, as though at a concerted signal, they dropped a cloud of paper slips which came eddying down through the sunlight. the chuffs scrambled for them, wondering. a sullen murmur rose when the messages were read. they ran thus:-- to make gooseberry wine (paste this in your hat), ten quarts of gooseberries, thoroughly crushed; over these, five quarts of water are flushed. twice round the clock let the fluid remain, then through a sieve the blithe mixture you strain, adding some sugar (not less than ten pound) and stirring it carefully, round and around. to the pulp of the fruit that remains in the sieve a gallon of pure filtered water you give: this you let stand for a dozen of hours, then add to the other to strengthen its powers. shut up the whole for the space of a day and it will ferment in a riotous way. when you see by the froth that the fluid grows thicker you, should skim it (with glee) for it's turning to liquor! while it ferments, please continue to skim: at the end, you may murmur the bartender's hymn. this makes a booze that is potent enough-- seal in a hogshead--and hide it from chuff! corporation for the perpetuation of happiness. the pan-antis were still muttering furiously over this daring act of defiance when a shrill bugle-call pealed down the avenue. bishop chuff rode out into the middle of the street on his famous coal-black charger, john barleycorn. there was a long hush. then, with a wave of his hand, he gave the signal. one hundred bands burst into the somber and clanging strains of "the face on the bar-room floor." the great parade had begun. from a house-top farther up the street dunraven bleak watched them come. he had taken quimbleton's word seriously, and with his usual enterprise had rented a roof overlooking the boulevard, on which several members of the balloon staff were prepared to deal with any startling events that might occur. a battery of telephones had been installed on the house-top; bleak himself sat with apparatus clamped to his head like an operator at central. two reporters were busy with paper and pencil; the cartoonist sat on the cornice, with legs swinging above two hundred feet of space, sketching the prodigious scene. the young lady editor of the woman's page was there, with opera glasses, noting down the "among those present." it was an awe-inspiring spectacle. between sidewalks jammed with silent and morose citizens, the pan-antis passed like a conquering army. the terrible bishop, the man who had put military discipline into the ranks of his mighty organization, rode his horse as the kaiser would have liked to ride entering paris. his small, bitter, fanatical face wore a deeply carved sneer. his great black beard flapped in the breeze, and he sang as he rode. behind him came huge floats depicting in startling tableaux the hideous menace of the gooseberry. bands blared and crashed. then, rank on rank, as far as eye could see, followed the zealots in their garments of white. each one, it was noticed, carried a neat knapsack. huge tractors rumbled along, groaning beneath a tonnage of tracts which were shot into the watching crowd by pneumatic guns. banners whipped and fluttered. the sound of shrill chanting vibrated in the blazing air like a visible wave of power. these were conquerors of a nation, and they knew it. a former bartender, standing in the front of the crowd, caught chuff's merciless gaze, wavered, and swooned. a retired distiller, sitting in the window of the brass rail club, fell dead of apoplexy. bleak trembled with nervousness. had quimbleton hoaxed him? what could halt this mighty pageant now? he was about to telephone to his city editor to go ahead with the one o'clock edition as originally planned.... from the sky came a roar of engines that drowned for a moment the thundering echoes of the parade. the three gray planes, which had been circling far above, swooped down almost to a level with the tops of the buildings. one of these, a huge two-seated bomber, passed directly over bleak's head. he craned upward, and caught a glimpse of what he thought at first was a white pennant trailing over the bulwark of the cockpit. a snowy shag of whiskers came tossing down through the air and fell in his lap. it was quimbleton's beard, torn from its moorings by the tug of wind-pressure. bleak thrust it quickly in his pocket. as the great plane passed over the head of the parade, flying dangerously low, every face save that of the iron-willed bishop was turned upward. but even in their curiosity the rigid discipline of the pan-antis prevailed. now they were singing, to the tune of "the old gray mare." old john barleycorn, he ain't what he used to be ain't what he used to be-- ain't what he used to be! old john barleycorn, he ain't what he used to be, many a year ago. the great volume of gusty sound, hurled aloft by these thousands of sky-pointing mouths, created an air-pocket in which the bombing plane tilted dangerously. for a moment, bleak, who was watching the plane, thought it was going to careen into a tail-spin and crash down fatally. then he saw quimbleton, still recognizable by an adhering shred of whisker, lean over the side of the fuselage. a small dark object dropped through the air, fell with a loud pop on the street a few yards in front of the bishop. a faint green vapor arose, misting for a moment the proud figures of chuff and his horse. at the same instant the other two planes, throbbing down the line of the parade, discharged a rain of similar projectiles along the vacant strip of paving between the marching chuffs and the police-lined curb. an eddying emerald fume filled the street, drifting with the brisk air down through all the ranks of the procession. there were shouts and screams; the clanging bands squawked discordantly. "holy cat!" shouted the cartoonist--"poison gas!" "nix!" said bleak, revealing quimbleton's secret in his excitement. "gooseberry bombs. every chuff that inhales it will be properly soused. oh, boy, some story! look at the bish! he's got a snootful already--his face has turned black!" "the whole crowd has turned black," said the cartoonist, almost falling off his perch in a frantic effort to see more clearly through the olive haze that filled the street. it was true. above the thousands of white figures, as they emerged from the intoxicating cloud-bank of gooseberry gas, grinned ghastly, inhuman, blackened faces, with staring goggle eyes. the bishop was most frightful of all. his horse was prancing and swaying wildly, and the bishop's transformed features were diabolic. his whole profile had altered, seemed black and shapeless as the face of a tadpole. the amazing truth burst upon bleak. chuff and his paraders were wearing gas-masks. these were what they had carried in their knapsacks. indomitable chuff, who had foreseen everything! "poor quimbleton," said bleak. "this will break his heart!" "his neck too, i fancy," said one of the others, pointing to the sky, and indeed one of the three planes was seen falling tragically to earth behind the tower of the city hall. the cloud of gas was rapidly drifting off down the boulevard, and through the exhilarating and delicious fog the pan-antis waved their defiant banners unscathed. the progress of the parade, however, was halted by the behavior of the bishop's horse, for which no mask had been provided. the noble animal, under this sudden and extraordinary stimulus, was almost human in its actions. at first it stood, whinneying sharply, and pawing the air with one forefoot--as though feeling for the brass rail, as one of bleak's companions said. it raised its head proudly, with open mouth and expanded nostrils. then, dashing off across the broad street, it seemed eager to climb a lamp-post, and only the fierce restraint of the bishop held it in. one of the chuffs (perhaps only lukewarm in loyalty), ran up and offered to give his mask to the horse, but was sternly motioned back to the ranks by the infuriated leader, who was wildly wrestling to gain control of the exuberant animal. at last the horse solved the problem by lying down in the street, on top of the bishop, and going to sleep. an ambulance, marked federal home for inebriates, cana, n.j., dashed up with shrilling gong. this had been arranged by quimbleton, who had wired a requisition for an ambulance to remove one intoxicated bishop. as the bishop was quite in command of his faculties, the horse, after some delay, was hoisted into the ambulance instead. the bishop was given a dusting, and the parade proceeded. the self-control of the police alone averted prolonged and frightful disorder, for when the conduct of the horse was observed thousands of spectators fought desperately to get through the ropes and out into the fumes that still lingered in wisps and whorls of green vapor. others tore off their coats and attempted to bag a few cubic inches of the gas in these garments. but the police, with a devotion to duty that was beyond praise, kept the mob in check and themselves bore the brunt of the lingering acid. only one man, who leaped from an office-window with an improvised parachute, really succeeded in getting into the middle of the boulevard, and he refused to be ejected on the ground that he was chief of the street-cleaning department. this department, by the way, was given a remarkable illustration of the fine public spirit of the citizens, for by three o'clock in the afternoon two hundred thousand applications had been received from those eager to act as volunteer street-cleaners and help scour the boulevard after the passage of the great parade. chapter iv the great war begins as the echoes of the parade died away, public excitement was roused to fever by the discovery that evening of an infernal machine in the city hall. leaning against one of the great marble pillars in the lobby of the building, a gleaming object (looking very much like a four-inch shrapnel shell) was found by a vigilant patrolman. to his horror he found it to be one of the much-dreaded thermos bottles. experts from the bureau of rumbustibles were summoned, and the bomb was carefully analyzed. much to the disappointment of the chief inspector, the devilish ingredients of the explosive had been spoiled by immersion in a pail of water, so his examination was purely theoretical; but it was plain that the leading component of this hellish mixture had been nothing less than gin, animated by a fuse of lemon-peel. if the cylinder had exploded, unquestionably every occupant of the city hall would have been intoxicated. the conduct of the municipal officials in this crisis was extremely courageous. no one knew whether other articles of this kind might not be concealed about the building, but the mayor and councilmen refused to go home, and even assisted in the search for possible bombs. secret service men were called from washington, and went into consultation with bishop chuff. it was a night of uproar. a reign of terror was freely predicted, and many prominent citizens sat up until after midnight on the chance of discovering similar explosives concealed about their premises. the morning papers rallied rapidly to the cause of threatened civilization. the daily circumspect declared, editorially:-- the alcoholsheviks have at last thrown down the gauntlet. the news that the ginarchists have placed a ginfernal machine in the very shrine of law and order is tantamount to a declaration of war upon sobriety as a whole. a canister of forbidden design, filled with the deadliest gingredients, was found in the corridor leading to the bureau of marriage licenses in the city hall. there must have been something more than accident in its discovery just in this spot. men of thoughtful temper will do well to heed the symbolism of this incident. plainly not only the constitution of the united states is to be made a quaffing-stock, but the very sanctity of the marriage bond is assailed. to this form of terrorism there is but one answer. in the meantime, quimbleton had disappeared. the house on caraway street was broken into by the police, but except for the grape arbor and a great quantity of empty bottles in the cellar, no clue was found. apparently, however, the vanished ginarchist (for so chuff called him) had been writing poetry before his departure. the following rather inscrutable doggerel was found scrawled on a piece of paper:-- when death doth reap and chuff is sickled, he will not keep: he was never pickled. for bishop chuff this is ill cheer: that time will force him to the bier. and when he stands on his last legs then death will drain him to the dregs. so when chuff croaks bury him on a high hill-- for he's a hoax et praeterea nihil! but bishop chuff was not the man to take these insults tamely. his first act was to call together the legislature of the state in special session, and the following act was rushed through: an act severing relations with nature, and amending the principles and processes of the same in so far as they contravene the constitution of the united states and the tenets of the pan-antis: whereas, in accordance with the declaration of gindependence, it may become necessary for a people to dissolve the alcoholic bands which have connected them with one another and to assume among the powers of the earth the sobriety to which the laws of pessimism entitle them, a decent disrespect to the opinions of drinkers requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to drouth. whereas we hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created sober, and are endowed with certain inalienable rights, such as life, grievances, and the pursuit of other people's happiness. whenever any form of amusement becomes destructive of these ends, it is the right of the pan-antis to abolish it. prudence, indeed, will dictate that beverages long established should not be abolished for light and transient causes. but when it is evident that nature herself is in conspiracy against the constitution of the united states, and that millions of so-called human beings have found in forbidden tipples a cause for mirth and merriment, it is time to call a halt to malt, and have no parley with barley. whereas it has frequently and regrettably been evidenced that nature is a sot at heart, by reason of her deplorably lax morals. painful as it is to make the admission, there are many of her apparently innocent fruits and plants that are susceptible, by the unlawful processes of fermentation and effervescence, of transformation into alcoholic liquid. science tells us that this abominable form of activity to which nature is privy is in reality a form of decomposition or putrefaction; but willful men will hardly be restrained by science in their illicit pursuit of frivolity. whereas nature (hereinafter referred to as the enemy) has been guilty of repeated ruptures of the constitution of the united states, having permitted the juice of apples to ferment into cider, having encouraged seditious effervescence on the part of gooseberries, currants, raisins, grapes and similar conspirators; having fomented outrageous yeastiness in hops, malt, rye, barley and other grains and fodders, therefore be it enacted, and it hereby is, that all relations with the enemy are hereby and henceforward suspended; and any citizen of the united states having commerce with nature, or giving her aid and comfort or encouragement in her atrocious alcoholshevik designs on human dignity, be, and hereby is, guilty of treason and lese-sobriety. be it also enacted, and it hereby is, that the principle of fermentation is forbidden in the territory of the united states; and all plants, herbs, legumes, vegetables, fruits and foliage showing themselves capable of producing effervescent juices or liquids in which bubbles and gases rise to the top be, and hereby are, confiscated, eradicated and removed from the surface of the soil. and all the laws of nature inconsistent with the principle of this act be and hereby are repealed and rendered null and inconclusive. it is hoped that this suspension of relations with nature will operate as a sharp rebuke, and bring her to reason. it is not the sense of this act to withhold from the enemy all hope of a future reconciliation, should she cast off the habits that have made her a menace. we have no quarrel with nature as a whole. but there is a certain misguided clique, the dandelions and gooseberries and other irresponsible plants, which must be humiliated. we do not presume to suggest to nature any alteration or modification of her necessary institutions. but who can claim that the principle of fermentation, which she has arrogated to herself, is necessary to her health and happiness? this intolerable thing, of which nature has shown us the ugly mug, this menace of combined intrigue and force, must be crushed, with proud punctilio. and for the strict enforcement of this act, the pan-antis are authorized and empowered to organize expeditionary forces, by recruitment or (if necessary) by conscription and draft, to proceed into the territory of the enemy, lay waste and ravage all dandelions, gooseberries and other unlawful plants. until this is accomplished nature shall be and hereby is declared a barred zone, in which civilians and non-combatants pass at their own peril; and all citizens not serving with the expeditionary forces shall remain within city and village limits until the territory of nature is made safe for sobriety. this document, having been signed by the governor, became law, and thousands of people who were about to leave town for their vacation were held up at the railway stations. nature was declared under martial law. there were many who held that the act, while admirable in principle, did not go far enough in practice. for instance, it was argued, the detestable principle of fermentation was due in great part to the influence of the sun upon vegetable matter; and it was suggested that this heavenly body should be abolished. others, pointing out that this was a matter that would take some time, advanced the theory that large tracts of open country should be shielded from the sun's rays by vast tents or awnings. bishop chuff, with his customary perspicacity, made it plain that one of the chief causes of temptation was hot weather, which causes immoderate thirst. in order to lessen the amount of thirst in the population he suggested that it might be feasible to shift the axis of the earth, so that the climate of the united states would become perceptibly cooler and the torrid zone would be transferred to the area of the north pole. this would have the supreme advantage of melting all the northern ice-cap and providing the temperate belts with a new supply of fresh water. it would be quite easy (the bishop insisted) to tilt the earth on its axis if everything heavy on the surface of the united states were moved up to hudson's bay. accordingly he began to make arrangements to have the complete files of the congressional record moved to the far north in endless freight trains. dunraven bleak, a good deal exhausted by his efforts to keep all these matters carefully reported in the columns of the evening balloon, was ready to take his vacation. as a newspaper man he was able to get a passport to go into the country, on the pretext of observing the movements of the troops of the pan-antis, who were vigorously attacking the dandelion fields and gooseberry vineyards. he had already sent his wife and children down to the seashore, in the last refugee train which had left the city before nature was declared outlaw. it was a hot morning, and having wound up his work at the office he was sitting in a small lunchroom having a shrimp salad sandwich and a glass of milk. the street outside was thronged with great motor ambulances rumbling in from the suburbs, carrying the wilted remains of berries and fruits which had been dug up by the furious legions of chuff. these were hastily transported to the municipal cannery where they were made into jams and preserves with all possible speed, before fermentation could set in. bleak saw them pass with saddened eyes. a beautiful gray motor car drew up at the curb, and honked vigorously. the proprietor of the lunchroom, thinking that possibly the chauffeur wanted some sandwiches, left the cash register and crossed the pavement eagerly. every eye in the restaurant was turned upon the glittering limousine, whose panels of dove-throat gray shone with a steely lustre. in a moment the proprietor returned with a large basket and a small folded paper, looking puzzled. he glanced about the room, and approached bleak. "i guess you're the guy," he said, and handed the editor a note on which was scrawled in pencil to the man with a penetrating gaze who has just spilled some shrimp salad on his palm beach trousers bleak, after removing the shrimp, opened the paper. inside he read please bring two dozen rye-tongue sandwiches and as much shrimp salad as the basket will hold. am famished. quimbleton. he looked at the restaurateur in surprise. "the lady said you were to get the grub and put it in this basket," said the latter. "the lady?" inquired bleak. "the dame in the car," said isidor, owner of the busy wasp lunchroom. bleak obeyed orders. he filled the basket with tongue sandwiches and a huge platter of shrimp salad, paid the check, and carried the burden to the door of the motor. at the wheel sat a damsel of extraordinary beauty. the massive proportions of the enormous car only accentuated the perfection of her streamline figure. her chassis was admirable; she was upholstered in a sports suit of fawn-colored whipcord; and her sherry-brown eyes were unmodified by any dimming devices. before bleak could say anything she cried eagerly, "get in, mr. bleak! i've been looking for you everywhere. what a happy moment this is!" bleak handed in the basket. "quimbleton--" he began. "i know," she said. "i'm taking you to him. poor fellow, he is in great peril. get in, please." by the time bleak was in the seat beside her, the car was already in motion. "you have your passport?" she said, steering through the tangled traffic. "yes," he said. he could not help stealing a sidelong glance at this bewitching creature. her dainty and vivacious face, just now a trifle sunburnt, was fixed resolutely upon the vehicles ahead. on the rim of the big steering wheel her small gloved hands gave an impression of great capability. bleak thought that her profile seemed oddly familiar. "haven't i seen you before?" he said. "very possibly. your newspaper printed my picture the other day, with some rather uncomplimentary remarks." bleak was nonplussed. "very stupid of me," he said, "but i don't seem to recall--" "i am miss chuff," she said calmly. the editor's brain staggered. "miss theodolinda chuff?" he said, in amazement. he recalled some satirical editorials the balloon had printed concerning the activities of the chuffs, and wondered if he were being kidnaped for court-martial by the pan-antis. evidently the use of quimbleton's name had been a ruse. "it was unfair of you to make use of quimbleton's name to get me into your hands," he said angrily. miss chuff turned a momentary gaze of amusement upon him, as they passed a large tractor drawing several truckloads of gooseberry plants. "you don't understand," she said demurely. "you may remember that mr. quimbleton's card gave his name as associate director of the happiness corporation?" "yes," said bleak. "i am the director," she said. "you? but how can that be? why, your father--" "that's just why. any one who had to live with father would be sure to take the opposite side. he's a pan-anti. i'm a pan-pro. those poems i have written for him were merely a form of camouflage. besides, they were so absurd they were sure to do harm to the cause. that's why i wrote them. i'll explain it all to you a little later." at this moment they were held up by an armed guard of chuffs, stationed at the city limits. these saluted respectfully on seeing the bishop's daughter, but examined bleak's passport with care. then the car passed on into the suburbs. as they neared the fields of actual battle, bleak was able to see something of the embittered nature of the conflict. in the hot white sunlight of the summer morning platoons of pan-antis could be seen marching across the fields, going up from the rest centers to the firing line. in one place a shallow trench had been dug, from which the chuffs were firing upon a blackberry hedge at long range. one by one the unprincipled berries were being picked off by expert marksmen. the dusty highway was stained with ghastly rivulets and dribbles of scarlet juices. at a crossroads they came upon a group of chuffs who had shown themselves to be conscientious objectors: these were being escorted to an internment camp where they would be horribly punished by confinement to lecture rooms with chautauqua lecturers. war is always cruel, and even non-combatants did not escape. in the heat of combat, the neutrality of an orchard of plum trees had been violated, and wagonloads of the innocent fruit were being carried away into slavery and worse than death. a young apple tree was standing in front of a firing squad, and bleak closed his eyes rather than watch the tragic spectacle. the apples were all green, and too young to ferment, but the chuffs were ruthless once their passions were roused. they passed through the battle zone, and into a strip of country where pine woods flourished on a sandy soil. the fragrant breath of sun-warmed balsam came down about them, and miss chuff let out the motor as though to escape from the scene of carnage they had just witnessed. "whither are we bound?" asked the editor, with pardonable curiosity, as their tires hummed over a smooth road. "cana, new jersey," said miss chuff, "where poor quimbleton is in hiding. he is in very sore straits. he narrowly escaped capture after the parade the other day. i managed to get him smuggled out of the city in the same ambulance that carried father's horse. the horse was drunk and quim was sober. wasn't that an irony of fate? but i promised to tell you how i became associated with the happiness corporation." chapter v the treachery of miss chuff "my story," said miss chuff, as the car slid along the road, "is rich in pathos. my father, as you can imagine, is an impossible man to live with. my poor mother was taken to an asylum years ago. her malady takes a curious form: she is never violent, but spends all her time in poring over books, magazines and papers. every time she finds the word husband in print she crosses it out with blue pencil. "from my earliest days i was accustomed to hear very little else but talk about liquor. the fairy tales that most children are allowed to enjoy merely as stories were explained to me by my father as allegories bearing upon the sinister seductions of drink. little red riding hood and the wolf, for instance, became a symbol of young womanhood pursued by the devouring bronx cocktail. the princess from whose mouth came toads and snakes was (of course) a princess under the influence of creme de menthe. cinderella was a young girl who had been brought low by taking a dash of brandy in her soup. every dragon, with which good fairy tales are liberally provided, was the demon rum. it is really amazing what stirring prohibition propaganda fairy tales contain if you know how to interpret them. "all this kind of palaver naturally roused my childish curiosity as to the subject of intoxicants. but, like a docile daughter, i fell into the career marked out for me by my father. i became a militant for the pan-antis. i distributed tracts by the million; i wrote a little poem on the idea that the gates of hell are swinging doors with slats. i can honestly say that i never felt any real hankering for liquor until it was prohibited altogether. that is a curious feature of human nature, that as soon as you forbid a thing it becomes irresistibly alluring. you remember the story of mrs. bluebeard. "it occurred to me, after booze had gone, that it was a sad thing that i, bishop chuff's daughter, who was devoting my life to the prohibition cause, should have not the slightest knowledge of the nature of this hideous evil we had been pursuing. i brooded over this a great deal, and fell into a melancholy state. the thought came to me, there must be some virtue in drink, or why would so many people have stubbornly contested its abolition? it would be too long a story to tell you all the details, but it was at that time that i first became aware of my psychic gift." "your psychic gift?" queried bleak, wondering. she turned her bright beer-brown eyes upon him gravely. "yes," she said, "i am an alcoholic medium. it is the latest and most superior form of spiritualism. by gazing upon crystal--particularly upon an empty tumbler--i am able to throw myself into a trance in which i can communicate with departed spirits. a good drink does not die, you know: its soul hovers radiantly on the twentieth plane, and through the occult power of a medium those who loved it in life can get in touch with it once more. through these trances of mine i have been privileged to put many bereaved ones in communication with their dear departed spirits. to hear the table-rappings and the shouts of ecstasy you would perceive that a great deal of the anguish of separation is assuaged." "do you often have these trances?" said bleak, with a certain wistfulness. "they are not hard to induce," she said. "all that is necessary for a seance is a round table, preferably of some highly polished brown wood, a brass rail for the worshipers to put their feet on, and an empty tumbler to concentrate the power of yearning. if those present all wish hard enough there is sure to be a successful reunion with the beyond." "but surely," said the fascinated editor, "surely not any--well, actual materialization?" "oh, no; but the communion of souls produces quite sufficient results. you see, so many fine spirits passed over at once, suddenly, on that first of july, that the twentieth plane is quite thronged with them, and they are just as eager to come back as their friends could be to welcome them. one good yearn deserves another, as we say. the only time when these seances fail is when some inharmonious soul is present--some personality not completely en rapport with the spirit of the gathering. i remember, for instance, an occasion when a gentleman from kentucky had most ardently desired to get into communication with the astrals of some mint juleps he had loved very deeply in life. everything seemed propitious, but though i struggled hard i simply could not get the julep spirit to descend to our mortal plane. finally i made inquiry and found that one of the guests was a root-beer manufacturer. of course you may say that was petty jealousy on the side of the departed, but even these vanished spirits have their human phases." she was silent for a moment. "you can imagine," she said, "what a perplexity i was in when i discovered these hitherto unsuspected powers in myself. was i justified in putting them to use, for the good of humanity? and wasn't there a certain pathetic significance in the fact that i, the daughter of the man who had done so much to put these poor lonely spirits into the beyond, should be made their sole channel of reunion with their bereaved and sorrowing adorers? in all his harangues, i had never heard my father attack anything but the actual drinking of liquor. this form of communication seemed to me to solve so many problems. and it was in this way that i first met virgil." "virgil?" said bleak, absent-mindedly, for he was wondering whether he might be privileged to attend one of these seances. "virgil quimbleton," she said. "in the early days of my trances i was much haunted by the spirit of a certain cocktail--blended, i believe, of champagne and angostura--which insisted that it would be inconsolable until it could get in contact with quimbleton and reassure him as to the certainty of its existence beyond mortal bars. the deep affection and old comradeship evidently cherished between quimbleton and this cocktail was very touching, and i was more than happy to be able to effect their reunion. it was for this reason that quimbleton, under a careful disguise, came to live next door to us on caraway street. i would go out into the garden and have a trance; quimbleton, poor bereaved fellow, would sit by me in the dusk and revel with the spirit of his dear comrade. this common bond soon ripened into jove, and we became betrothed." she stripped off one of her gloves and showed bleak a beautiful amethyst ring. "this is my engagement ring," she said. "it's a very precious symbol, for quimbleton explained to me that the amethyst is a talisman against drunkenness. i looked it up in the dictionary, and found that he was right. as long as i wear this ring the departed spirits have no ill effect upon me. but i sometimes wonder," she added with a sigh, "whether virgil really loves me for myself, or only as a kind of swinging door into the spirit world." the car was now approaching an open belt of country. behind them lay the dark line of pine woods; far off, across a wide shimmer of sun and sandy fields sweetened by purple clover; and flowering grasses, was a blue ribbon of sea. but even in this remote shelf of new jersey the implacable hand of chuff was at work. from a meadow near by they saw an observation balloon going up and the windlass unwinding its cable. a huge paraboloid breath-detector (or breathoscope) was stationed on a low ridge. this terribly ingenious machine, which had just been invented by the pan-antis, records the vibrations of any alcoholic breath within five miles, and indicates on a sensitive dial the exact direction and distance of the breath. it was only too evident that the search for quimbleton was going forward with fierce system. in the shelter of an old barn they heard a cork-popping machine-gun going off rapidly. this was one of the most atrocious ruses employed by the chuffs in their search for conscientious drinkers. the gun fires no projectile, but produces a pleasant detonation like the swift and repeated drawing of corks. set up in the neighborhood of any bottle-habited man, it will invariably lure him into an approach. near it was an ice-tinkling device, used for the same purposes of stratagem. "poor virgil!" said miss chuff with a sigh. "i'm afraid he has had a grievous ordeal. we must run carefully now, so as not to give him away." fortunately miss chuff's presence at the wheel, and bleak's credentials as war correspondent, enabled them to pass several scouting parties of chuff uhlans without suspicion. in this way they neared the extensive grounds surrounding the federal home for inebriates, cana, n. j. this magnificent gothic building, already showing some signs of decay from two years of vacancy, stands on a slight eminence among what the real estate agents call "old shade," with a fine and carefully calculated view over one of the largest bodies of undrinkable fluid known to man, the atlantic ocean. the car turned into a narrow sandy road skirting one side of the walled park. this byway was completely screened from outside observation by the high bulwark of the home and by thick masses of rhododendron shrubbery. at a bend in the road miss chuff halted the motor, and motioned bleak to descend. "now we will look for the persecuted patriot," she said. bleak took charge of the basket of food, and miss chuff drew a small rope ladder from a locker under the driver's seat. this she threw deftly up to the top of the wall, hooking it upon the iron spikes. bleak politely ascended first, and they scaled the wall, dropping down into a tangle of underbrush. "i left him in here somewhere," said the girl, as they set off along a narrow path. "this was obviously the best place to hide, as, except for father's horse, the home hasn't had an inmate for two years. there was some talk of father making this the headquarters of the great general strafe in this campaign, but i don't believe they have done so yet." "hush!" said bleak. "what is that i hear?" a dull, regular, recurrent sound, a sort of rasping sigh, stole through the thickets. they both listened in some agitation. "sounds a little like an airplane, with one engine missing," said bleak. "can it be the sea, the surf breaking on the sand?" asked miss chuff. this seemed probable, and they accepted it as such; but as they pushed on through the tangle of saplings and bushes the sound seemed to localize itself on their left. bleak peeped cautiously through a leafy screen, and then beckoned the girl to his side. they looked down into a warm sandy hollow, overgrown and sheltered by a large rhododendron with knotted branches and dry, shiny leaves. curled up on the sand bank, in the unconsciously pathetic posture of sheer exhaustion, lay quimbleton, asleep. a droning snore buzzed heavily from where he lay. "poor virgil!" said miss chuff. "how tired he looks." he did, indeed. the gray and silver uniform was ragged and soil-stained; his boots were white with dust; his face was unshaved, though a razor lay beside him, and it seemed that he had been trying to strop it on his sam browne belt. his pipe, filled but unlit, had fallen from his weary fingers; beside him was an empty match-box and tragic evidence of a number of unsuccessful attempts to get fire from a swedish tandsticker. crumpled under the elbow of the indomitable idealist was a much-thumbed copy of the bartender's benefactor, or how to mix drinks, in which he had been seeking imaginary solace when he fell asleep. near his head ticked a pocket alarm clock, which they found set to gong at two o'clock. "it seems a shame to wake him," said theodolinda. her brown eyes liquefied and effervesced with tenderness, until (as bleak thought to himself) they were quite the color of brandy and soda, without too much soda. the sleeper stirred, and a radiant smile passed over his unconscious features--a smile of pure and heavenly beatitude. "say when, jerry," he murmured. "he's dreaming!" cried theodolinda. "see, his soul is far away!" "two years away," said bleak enviously. "let him go to it while we reconnoiter. i believe in the prevention of cruelty to sleep. he didn't intend to wake up just yet, you can see by the alarm clock." "that's a good idea," she agreed. "i'd like to find out whether we're in any immediate danger of pursuit." they set the basket of food beside quimbleton, and carefully moved on through the strip of young trees until they neared the broad lawns that surround the home for inebriates. miss chuff, spying delicately through a leafy chink, gave a cry of alarm. "heavens!" she said. "the place is full of people!" to their amazement, they saw the white banner of the pan-antis floating on one of the towers of the building, and the grounds about the home blackened with a moving throng. though they were too far distant to discern any details of the crowd, it was plain (from the curious to-and-fro of the gathering, like the seething of an ant-hill) that its units were imbued with some strong emotion. at that distance it might have been anger, or fear, or (more appropriate to the surroundings) drink. they hurried back to quimbleton's hiding place, and found him already sitting up and attacking the shrimp salad. bleak courteously averted his eyes from the affectionate embrace of the lovers. "bless your heart for this grub," said quimbleton to bleak. "as soon as i smelt that shrimp salad i woke up. do you know, i haven't eaten for two days." "oh virgil!" cried theodolinda, "what does this mean--all the crowd round the home? mr. bleak and i looked up there, and the place is simply packed. you can't stay undiscovered long with all those people around. who are they, anyway?" quimbleton had to delay his reply until deglutition had mastered a bulky consignment of shrimp. his large, resolute face, while somewhat marred by hardships, showed no trace of panic. "i know all about it," he said. "it is the latest step on the route of all evil taken by that fanatical person whom i shall presently call father-in-law. he is not content with arresting people found drinking. this morning they began to seize people who think about drinking. any one who is guilty of thinking, in an affirmative way, about liquor, is to be interned in the federal home for a course in mental healing." "but how can they tell?" asked bleak, nervously. "i don't know," said quimbleton. "perhaps they have a kind of third degree, flash a seidel of beer on you suddenly, and if you make an involuntary gesture of pleasure, you're convicted. perhaps they've invented an instrument that tells what you think about. perhaps they just arrest you on suspicion. at any rate all the folks who have been thinking about booze are being collected and sent over here. i know because i've seen most of my friends arriving all morning. i suppose they'll get me next. i don't much care as long as i've had something to eat." "virgil, dear," said miss chuff, "you mustn't give up hope now, after being so brave. you know i'll stand by you to the end--to the very dregs." "if only i had some disguise," said quimbleton sadly, "it wouldn't be so bad. but i must confess that these breath detectors and other unscrupulous instruments they use have rather unnerved me." bleak suddenly remembered, and thrust his hand in his hip-pocket. he pulled out the hank of white beard that had floated down from the airplane a few days before. it was much crumpled, but intact. "good man!" cried quimbleton. "my jolly old beard!" he clapped it onto his face and beamed hopefully. "now, if there were some way of getting rid of this tell-tale uniform--" they discussed this problem at some length, sitting in the sheltered bowl of sand, while quimbleton finished his lunch. bleak's suggestion of stitching together a sort of robinson crusoe suit of rhododendron leaves did not meet quimbleton's approval. "no robinson trousseau for me," he said. "i thought of pasting together the leaves of the bartender's benefactor, but i'm afraid that would be rather damning. no, i don't see what to do." "i have it!" said theodolinda, gleefully. "i've got a sewing kit in the car--we'll unrip the upholstery and i can stitch you up a suit in no time. at least it will be better than the c. p. h. get-up, which would take you in front of a firing squad if it were seen." this seemed a good idea. bleak volunteered to escort miss chuff back to the car and help her rip the covers off the cushions. this was done, and they carried back to quimbleton's hiding place many yards of pale lilac colored twill (or whatever it is) and a flask of iced tea. in spite of distant sounds of warfare, the time passed pleasantly enough. miss chuff cut out and stitched assiduously; quimbleton and bleak, under her directions, sewed on the buttons snipped from the uniform. birds twittered in the greenery about them, and they all felt something of the elation of a picnic when the garments were done and quimbleton retired to a neighboring copse to make the change. the other two were too seriously concerned for his welfare to laugh when they saw him. "splendid!" cried bleak. "now you can lie down in miss chuff's car and if any one looks in they'll just think you're part of the furnishings." "and i think we'd better get back to the car without delay," said theodolinda. "i'd like to get you out of this danger zone as soon as possible." they hastened back to the wall, scaled it with the rope ladder--and stared in dismay. the car had gone. they could see it far down the road, guarded by a group of pan-antis. a cordon of the enemy had been thrown completely round the home and escape was impossible. worse still, the treachery of miss chuff must have been discovered, and they trembled to think what retaliation the bishop might devise. in this moment of crisis quimbleton regained his customary hardihood. quilted in his lilac garments, with the white hedge of beard tossing in the breeze, he looked the dashing leader. "there's only one thing to do," he said. "we're surrounded in this place. we must go to the home, make common cause with the prisoners there, and lead them in a sudden sally of escape." chapter vi departed spirits if bishop chuff desired to make people stop thinking about alcohol, his plan of seizing them and shutting them up in the grounds of the federal home at cana was a quaint way of attaining this purpose. for all the victims, who had been suddenly arrested in the course of their daily concerns, accused (before a rum-head court martial) of harboring illicit alcoholic desires, and driven over to cana in crowded motor-trucks, now had very little else to brood about. in the golden light and fragrance of a summer afternoon, here they were surrounded by all the apparatus to restrain alcoholic excess, and not even the slightest exhilaration of spirit to justify the depressing scene. it was annoying to see frequent notices such as: this entrance for brandy-topers; or vodka patients in this ward; or inmates must not bite off the door-knobs. it seemed carrying a jest too far when these citizens, most of whom had not even smelt a drink in two years, found themselves billeted into padded cells and confronted by rows of strait-jackets. moreover, the home had lain unused for many months: it was dusty, dilapidated, and of a moldy savor. some of the unwilling visitors, finding that the grounds included a strip of sandy beach, took their ordeal with reasonable philosophy. "since we are to be slaves," they said, "at least let's have some serf bathing." and donning (with a shudder) the rather gruesome padded bathing suits they found in the lockers, they went off for a swim. others, of a humorous turn, derived a certain rudimentary amusement in studying the garden marked reserved for patients with insane delusions, where they found a very excellent relief-model of the battleground of the marne, laid out by a former inmate who had imagined himself to be general joffre. but most of them stood about in groups, talking bitterly. quimbleton, therefore, found a receptive audience for his spartacus scheme of organizing this band of downtrodden victims into a fighting force. he gathered them into the dining-hall of the home and addressed them in spirited language. "my friends" (he said), "unaccustomed as i am to public speaking, i feel it my duty to administer a few remarks on the subject of our present situation. "and the first thought that comes to my mind, candidly, is this, that we must give bishop chuff credit for a quality we never imagined him to possess. that quality, gentlemen, is a sense of humor. i hear some dissent; and yet it seems to me to be somewhat humorous that this gathering, composed of men who were accustomed, in the good old days, to carry their liquor like gentlemen, should now, when they have been cold sober for two years, be incarcerated in this humiliating place, surrounded by the morbid relics of those weaker souls who found their grog too strong for them. "i say therefore that we must give bishop chuff credit for a sense of humor. it makes him all the more deadly enemy. yet i think we will have the laugh on him yet, in a manner i shall presently describe. for the bishop has what may be denominated a single-tract mind. he undoubtedly imagines that we will submit tamely to this outrage. he has surrounded us with guards. he expects us to be meek. in my experience, the meek inherit the dearth. let us not be meek!" there was a shout of applause, and quimbleton's salient of horse-hair beard waved triumphantly as he gathered strength. his burly figure in the lilac upholstering dominated the audience. he went on: "and what is our crime? that we have nourished, in the privacy of our own intellects, treasonable thoughts or desires concerning alcohol! gentlemen, it is the first principle of common law that a man cannot be indicted for thinking a crime. there must be some overt act, some evidence of illegal intention. can a man be deprived of freedom for carrying concealed thoughts? if so, we might as well abolish the human mind itself. which bishop chuff and his flunkeys would gladly do, i doubt not, for they themselves would lose nothing thereby." vigorous clapping greeted this sally. "now, gentlemen," cried quimbleton, "though we follow a lost cause, and even though the gooseberry and the raisin and the apple be doomed, let us see it through with gallantry! the enemy has mobilized dreadful engines of war against us. let us retort in kind. he has tanks in the field--let us retort with tankards. they tell me there is a warship in the offing, to shell us into submission. very well: if he has gobs, let us retort with goblets. if he has deacons, let us parry him with decanters. chuff has put us here under the pretext of being drunk. very well: then let us be drunk. let us go down in our cups, not in our saucers. where there's a swill, there's a way! let us be sot in our ways," he added, sotto voce. terrific uproar followed this fine outburst. quimbleton had to calm the frenzy by gesturing for silence. "i hear some natural queries," he said. "some one asks 'how?' to this i shall presently explain 'here's how.' bear with me a moment. "my friends, it would be idle for us to attempt the great task before us relying merely on ourselves. in such great crises it is necessary to call upon a higher power for strength and succor. this is no mere brawl, no haphazard scuffle: it is the battle-ground--if i were jocosely minded i might say it is the bottle-ground--of a great principle. if, gentlemen, i wished to harrow your souls, i would ask you to hark back in memory to the fine old days when brave men and lovely women sat down at the same table with a glass of wine, or a mug of ale, and no one thought any the worse. i would ask you to remember the color of the wine in the goblet, how it caught the light, how merrily it twinkled with beaded bubbles winking at the brim, as some poet has observed. if i wanted to harrow you, gentlemen, i would recall to you little tables, little round tables, set out under the trees on the lawn of some country inn, where the enchanting music of harp and fiddle twangled on the summer air, where great bowls of punch chimed gently as the lumps of ice knocked on the thin crystal. the little tables were spread tinder the trees, and then, later on, perhaps, the customers were spread under the tables.--i would ask you to recall the manly seidel of dark beer as you knew it, the bitter chill of it as it went down, the simple felicity it induced in the care-burdened mind. i could quote to you poet after poet who has nourished his song upon honest malt liquor. i need only think of mr. masefield, who has put these manly words in the mouth of his pirate mate: oh some are fond of spanish wine, and some are fond of french, and some'll swallow tea and stuff fit only for a wench, but i'm for right jamaica till i roll beneath the bench! oh some are fond of fiddles and a song well sung, and some are all for music for to lilt upon the tongue; but mouths were made for tankards, and for sucking at the bung!" this apparently artless oratory was beginning to have its effect. loud huzzas filled the hall. these touching words had evoked wistful memories hidden deep in every heart. old wounds were reopened and bled afresh. again quimbleton had to call for silence. "i will recite to you," he said, "a ditty that i have composed myself. it is called a chanty of departed spirits." in a voice tremulous with emotion he began: the earth is grown puny and pallid, the earth is grown gouty and gray, for whiskey no longer is valid and wine has been voted away-- as for beer, we no longer will swill it in riotous rollicking spree; the little hot dogs in the skillet will have to be sluiced down with tea. o ales that were creamy like lather! o beers that were foamy like suds! o fizz that i loved like a father! o fie on the drinks that are duds! i sat by the doors that were slatted and the stuff had a surf like the sea-- no vintage was anywhere vatted too strong for ventripotent me! i wallowed in waves that were tidal, but yet i was never unmoored; and after the twentieth seidel my syllables still were assured. i never was forced to cut cable and drift upon perilous shores, to get home i was perfectly able, erect, or at least on all fours. although i was often some swiller, i never was fuddled or blowsed; my hand was still firm on the tiller, no matter how deep i caroused; but now they have put an embargo on jazz-juice that tingles the spine, we can't even cozen a cargo of harmless old gooseberry wine! but no legislation can daunt us: the drinks that we knew never die: their spirits will come back to haunt us and whimper and hover near by. the spookists insist that communion exists with the souls that we lose-- and so we may count on reunion with all that's immortal of booze. those spirits we loved have departed to some psychical twentieth plane; but still we will not be downhearted, we'll soon greet our loved ones again-- to lighten our drouth and our tedium whenever our moments would sag, we'll call in a spiritist medium and go on a psychical jag! as the frenzy of cheering died away, quimbleton's face took on the glow of simple benignance that bleak had first observed at the time of the julep incident in the balloon office. the flush of a warm, impulsive idealism over-spread his genial features. it was the face of one who deeply loved his fellow-men. "my friends," he said, "now i am able to say, in all sincerity, here's how. i have great honor in presenting to you my betrothed fiancee, miss theodolinda chuff. do not be startled by the name, gentlemen. miss chuff, the daughter of our arch-enemy, is wholly in sympathy with us. she is the possessor (happily for us) of extraordinary psychic powers. i have persuaded her to demonstrate them for our benefit. if you will follow my instructions implicitly, you will have the good fortune of witnessing an alcoholic seance." miss chuff, very pale, but obviously glad to put her spiritual gift at the disposal of her lover, was escorted to the platform by bleak. the editor had been coached beforehand by quimbleton as to the routine of the seance. "the first requirement," said quimbleton to the awe-struck gathering, "is to put yourselves in the proper frame of mind. for that purpose i will ask you all to stand up, placing one foot on the rung of a chair. kindly imagine yourselves standing with one foot on a brass rail. you will then summon to mind, with all possible accuracy and vividness, the scenes of some bar-room which was once dear to you. i will also ask you to concentrate your mental faculties upon some beverage which was once your favorite. please rehearse in imagination the entire ritual which was once so familiar, from the inquiring look of the bartender down to the final clang of the cash-register. a visualization of the old free lunch counter is also advisable. all these details will assist the medium to trance herself." bleak in the meantime had carried a small table on the platform, and placed an empty glass upon it. miss chuff sat down at this table, and gazed intently at the glass. quimbleton produced a white apron from somewhere, and tied it round his burly form. with bleak playing the role of customer he then went through a pantomime of serving imaginary drinks. his representation of the now vanished type of the bartender was so admirably realistic that it brought tears to the eyes of more than one in the gathering. the editor, with appropriate countenance and gesture, dramatized the motions of ordering, drinking, and paying for his invisible refreshment. his pantomime was also accurate and satisfying, evidently based upon seasoned experience. the argument as to who should pay, the gesture conveying the generous sentiment "this one's on me," the spinning of a coin on the bar, the raising of the elbow, the final toss that dispatched the fluid--all these were done to the life. the audience followed suit with a will. a whispering rustle ran through the dingy hall as each man murmured his favorite catchwords. "give it a name," "set 'em up again," "here's luck," and such archaic phrases were faintly audible. miss chuff kept her gaze fastened on the empty tumbler. suddenly her rigid pose relaxed. she drooped forward in her chair, with her head sunk and hands limp. tenderly and reverently quimbleton bent over her. then, his face shining with triumph, he spoke to the hushed watchers. "she is in the trance," he said. "gentlemen, her happy soul is in touch with the departed spirits. what'll you have? don't all speak at once." fifty-nine, in hushed voices, petitioned for a bronx. quimbleton turned to the unconscious girl. "fifty-nine devotees," he said, "ask that the spirit of the bronx cocktail vouchsafe his presence among us." miss chuff's slender figure stiffened again. her hand went out to the glass beside her, and raised it to her lips. some of the more eagerly credulous afterwards asserted that they had seen a cloudy yellow liquid appear in the vessel, but it is not improbable that the wish was father to the vision. at any rate, the fifty-nine suppliants experienced at that instant a gush of sweet coolness down their throats, and the unmistakable subsequent tingle. they gazed at each other with a wild surmise. "how about another?" said one in a thrilling whisper. "take your turn," said quimbleton. "who's next?" one hundred and fifty-three nominated scotch whiskey. the order was filled without a slip. quimbleton's face beamed above his beard like a full-blown rose. "magnificent!" he whispered to bleak, both of them having partaken in the second round. "if this keeps on we'll have a charge of the tight brigade." the next round was ninety-five jack rose cocktails, but the audience was beginning to get out of hand. those who had not yet been served grew restive. they saw their companions with brightened eyes and beaming faces, comparing notes as to this delicious revival of old sensations. in the impatience of some and the jubilation of others, the psychic concentration flagged a little. then, just as quimbleton was about to ask for the fourth round, the unforgiveable happened. some one at the back shouted, "a glass of buttermilk!" miss chuff shuddered, quivered, and opened her eyes with a tragic gasp. she slipped from the chair, and fell exhausted to the floor. bleak ran to pick her up. quimbleton screamed out an oath. "the spell is broken!" he roared. "there's a spy in the room!" at that instant a battalion of armed chuffs burst into the hall. they carried a huge hose, and in ten seconds a six-inch stream of cold water was being poured upon the bewildered psychic tipplers. quimbleton and bleak, seizing the girl's helpless form, escaped by a door at the back of the platform. "heaven help us," cried bleak, distraught. "what shall we do? this means the firing squad unless we can escape." theodolinda feebly opened her eyes. "o horrible," she murmured. "the spirit of buttermilk--i saw him--he threatened me--" "the horse!" cried quimbleton, with fierce energy. "the bishop's horse--in the stable!" they ran wildly to the rear quarters of the home, where they found the bishop's famous charger whinneying in his stall. all three leaped upon his back. in the confusion, amid the screams of the tortured inmates and the cruel cries of the invading chuffs, they made good their escape. every one of the wretched inmates captured at the psychic carouse was immediately sentenced to six months' hard listening on the chautauqua circuit. but even during this brutal punishment their memories returned with tenderest reminiscence to the experience of that afternoon. as one of them said, "it was a real treat." and although quimbleton had plainly stated the relation in which he stood to theodolinda chuff, she had no less than two hundred and ten proposals of marriage, by mail, from those who had attended the seance. chapter vii the decanterbury pilgrims through a dreary waste of devastated country a little group of refugees plodded in silence. all about them lay fields and orchards which had been torn and uprooted as though by some unbelievable whirlwind. at a watering trough along the road they halted, facing the sign: compulsory drinking station adults, quart children, pint thirst forbidden between here and the next station under the eye of an armed chuff, who watched them suspiciously, the wretched wanderers drank the water in silence, but without enthusiasm. then they shuffled on down the road. at the front of the small procession a slender girl, in a much-stained sports suit, rode on a tall black horse. beside the horse trudged a bulky man in a grotesque garb of dirty lavender quilting. a matted whisk of coarse beard drooped from his chin, but his blue eyes burned brightly in his sunburnt face. over his shoulder he carried a six foot length of brass railing, a small folding table, and a shabby knapsack. behind the horse limped a lean, dyspeptic-colored individual in a palm beach suit that would have been a social death-warrant on the shining sands of its name-place. there is no form of sartorialism that takes on such utter humility as a palm beach suit gone wrong. this particular vestment was spotted with ink, with mud, with fruit-juices, with every kind of stain; it was punctured with perforations that might have been due to fallen tobacco tinder. the individual within this travesty of clothing was painfully propelling a wheelbarrow, in which rode (not without complaint) a substantial woman and a baby. an older child trailed from the palm beach coat-tail. these jovial vagabonds, as the reader will have suspected, were no other than theodolinda chuff, virgil quimbleton, and the family of bleaks. affairs had gone steadily from bad to worse. after the incident--or, as some blasphemously called it, the miracle--at cana, bishop chuff had commenced ruthless warfare. enraged beyond control by the perfidy of his daughter, he had sent out the armies of the pan-antis to wreak vengeance on every human enterprise that could be suspected of complicity in the matter of fermentation. not only had the countryside been laid waste, but the printing press had been abolished and all publishing trades were now a thing of the past. this, of course, had thrown dunraven bleak out of a job. he had retrieved his wife and children from the seashore, and in company with quimbleton and miss chuff, and the noble and faithful horse john barleycorn, they had led a nomad existence for weeks, flying from bands of pursuing chuffs, and bravely preaching their illicit gospel of good cheer in the face of terrible dangers. the girl, who was indeed the jeanne d'arc of their cause, was their sole means of subsistence. it was her psychic powers that made it possible for them, in a furtive way, to give their little entertainments. their method was, on reaching a village where there were no chuff troops, to distribute certain handbills which bleak had been able to get printed by stealth. these read thus: the six quimbletons or the decanterbury pilgrims in their artistic revival of old and entertaining customs, tableaux vivants vanished arts, folklore games and conjuring tricks such as the drinking of healths, toasts, nosepainting, the lifted elbow, let's match for it, say when, light or dark? and this one's on me. communion with departed spirits please do not leave before the hat goes round having taken their station in some not too prominent place, bleak would mount the wheelbarrow and play coming through the rye on a jew's-harp. this, his sole musical accomplishment, was exceedingly distasteful to him: all his training had been in the anonymity of a newspaper office, and he felt his public humiliation bitterly. when a crowd had gathered, quimbleton would ascend the barrow and make a brief speech (of a highly inflammatory and treasonable nature) after which he would set up the small table and the brass rail, produce a white apron and a tumbler from his knapsack, and introduce theodolinda for an alcoholic trance. it was found that the public entered into the spirit of these seances with great gusto, and often the collection taken up was gratifyingly large. however, the life was hazardous in the extreme, and they were in perpetual danger of meeting secret service agents. it was only by repeated private trances of their own that they were able to keep up their morale. reaching a bend in the way, where a grove of trees cast a grateful shade, the decanterbury pilgrims halted to rest. quimbleton helped theodolinda down from her horse, and they all sat sadly by the roadside. "theo," said quimbleton, as he wiped his brow, "do you think, dear, that if i set up the table you could give us a little trance? upon my soul, i am nearly done in." "darling virgil," said theodolinda, "i really can't do it. you know i've given you four trances already this morning, and you have communed with the soul of wurzburger at least a dozen times. then, as you know, i have put mr. bleak in touch with a julep six or seven times. all that takes it out of me dreadfully. i really must consider my art a bit: i don't want to be a mere psychic bartender, a clairvoyant distiller." "you are quite right, dear girl," said quimbleton remorsefully. "but i couldn't help thinking how agreeable a psychical seidel of dark beer would be just now. you are our little jeanne dark, you know," he added, with an atrocious attempt at pleasantry. "that's all very well," said bleak (who preferred julep to beer), "but if we don't look out miss chuff will go into a permanent trance. i've noticed it has been harder and harder to bring her back from these states of suspended sobriety. you know, if we crowd these phantasms of the grape upon her too fast, she might pass over altogether, and stay behind the bar for good. we are deeply indebted to miss chuff for her adorable willingness to act as a kind of bunghole into the spirit world, but we don't want her to slip through the hole and evaporate." "safety thirst!" cried quimbleton, raising his loved one to his lips. "we can't go on like this indefinitely," continued bleak. "i don't mind being a mountebank, but mountebanks don't pay much interest. i'd rather be a safe deposit somewhere out of chuff's reach. there's too much drama in this way of living." "i can stand the drama as long as i get the drams," said the unrepentant quimbleton. "well, _i_ won't stand it!" exclaimed mrs. bleak, shrilly. "look what your insane schemes have brought us to! you and my husband seem to find comfort in your psychical toping, but i don't notice any psychical millinery being draped about for miss chuff or myself. and look at the children! they're simply in rags. if you really loved miss chuff i should think you'd be ashamed to use her as a spiritual demijohn! you've alienated her from her father, and reduced my husband from managing editor of a leading paper to managing jew's-harpist of a gang of psychic bootleggers." she burst into angry tears. quimbleton groaned, and turned a ghastly fade upon bleak. "it's quite true," he said. in the excitement miss chuff had turned very pale. "virgil," she said faintly, "i believe i feel a trance coming on." "great grief!" cried the harassed leader. "not now, my darling! i think i see some troops in the distance. quick, try to concentrate your mind on lemonade, on buttermilk, on beef tea!" happily this crisis passed. theodolinda had presence of mind enough to pull out a little photograph of her father from some secret hiding place, and by putting her mind on it shook off the dominion of the other world. quimbleton spoke with anguished remorse. "mrs. bleak is right. i've been trying to hide it from myself, but i can do so no longer. this monkey business--what we might call this gorilla warfare--must stop. we will only land in front of a firing squad. i have only one idea, which i have been saving in case all else failed." the bleaks were too discouraged to comment, but theodolinda smiled bravely. "virgil dear," she said, "your ideas are always so original. what is it?" quimbleton stood up, unconsciously putting one foot on the portable brass rail which rested on its six-inch legs by the roadside. his tired eyes shone anew with characteristic enthusiasm. it was plain that he imagined himself before a large and sympathetic audience. "my friends," he said, "the secret of eloquence is to know your facts--or, as the all-powerful chuff would amend it, to know your tracts. one fact, i think i may say, is plain. the jig is up, or (more literally), the jag is up. i can see now that alcohol will never be more than a memory. principalities and powers are in league against us. if the malt has lost its favor, wherewith shall it be malted?" he paused a moment, as though expecting a little applause, and theodolinda murmured an encouraging "here, here." with rekindled eye he resumed. "alcohol, i say, will never be more than a memory. yet even a memory must be kept alive. the great tradition must not die. for the very sake of antiquarian accuracy, for the instruction of posterity, some exact record must be kept of the influence of alcohol upon the human soul. how can this be preserved? not in books, not in the dead mummies of a museum. no, not in dead mummies, indeed, but in living rummies. that brings me to my great idea, which i have long cherished. "i propose, my dear friends, that in some appropriate shrine, surrounded by all the authentic trappings and utensils, some chosen individual be maintained at the public charge, to exhibit for the contemplation of a drouthing world the immortal flame of intoxication. he will be known, without soft concealments, as the perpetual souse. in his little bar, served by austere attendants, he will be kept in a state of gentle exhilaration. nothing gross, nothing unseemly, i insist! in that state of sweetly glowing mind and heart, in that ineffable blossoming of all the nobler qualities of human dignity, this priest of alcohol will represent and perpetuate the virtues of the grape. booze, in the general sense, will have gone west, but ah how fair and ruddy a sunset will it have in the person of this its vicar! there he will live, visited, studied, revered, a living memorial. there he will live, perpetually in a mellow fume of bliss, trailing clouds of glory, as if--as some poet says, as if his whole vocation were endless intoxication. and now, my friends--not to weary you with the minor details of this far-reaching proposal--let me come to the point. for so gravely responsible a post, for an office so representative of the ideals and ambitions of millions, the choice cannot be cast haphazard. the choice must fall upon one qualified, confirmed, consecrated to this end. this deeply significant office must be conferred by the people themselves. it must be conferred by popular election. candidates must be nominated, must stump the country explaining their qualifications. and let me say that, upon looking over the whole field, i see one man, who by the jury of his peers--or shall i say by the jury of his beers?--is supremely fitted for this post. it is my intention to nominate mr. dunraven bleak for the office of perpetual souse." there was a moment of complete silence while his hearers considered the vast scope of this remarkable suggestion. it is only fair to say that mr. bleak's face had at first lighted up, but then he glanced at his wife and his countenance grew pinched. he spoke hastily: "a very generous thought, my dear fellow; but i feel that you would be far more competent for this form of public service than i could hope to be." "your modesty does you credit," replied quimbleton, "but you forget that owing to my relation with miss chuff i shall happily be precluded from the necessity of entering public life for this purpose." "and what, pray," said mrs. bleak with distinct asperity, "is to become of me and the children if mr. bleak is elected to this preposterous office?" "i was coming to that," said quimbleton eagerly. "it would be arranged, of course, that the perpetual souse would be granted a liberal salary for his family expenses; you and your delightful children would be maintained at the public expense in a suitable bungalow nearby, with a private family entrance into the official cellars. your rank, of course, would be that of perpetual spouse." "my good quimbleton," said bleak, somewhat bitterly, "this is a fascinating vision indeed, but how can it be accomplished? how would you ever get such a scheme accepted by bishop chuff, who will never forgive you for kidnaping his daughter? you are building bar-rooms in spain, my dear chap; you are blowing mere soap-bubbles." "and why not?" cried his friend. "bishop chuff has called me a soap-box orator. at any rate, a man who stands upon a soap-box is nearer heaven by several inches than the man who stands upon the ground." theodolinda's face sparkled with the impact of an idea. "come," she said, "it's not impossible after all. i have a thought. we'll offer father an armistice and talk things over with him. he doesn't know what straits we're in, and maybe we can bring him to terms. he was very badly scared by those gooseberry bombs, and maybe we can bluff him into a concession." "if we had had any luck," said quimbleton, "we would have blown him into a concussion. but anyway, that's a bonny scheme. we'll grant him a truce. bleak, you're a newspaper man, just get hold of the united press and let them know the armistice is signed." bleak smiled wanly at the thrust. "all right," he said. "let's go. but what's your idea, miss chuff? we must have something to base negotiations on." "wait and see," she cried gayly. "we'll talk it over as we go along." mrs. bleak aroused her children, who had fallen asleep, and climbed back into the wheelbarrow. "i don't know that i approve of that scheme of making dunraven the perpetual souse," she remarked. "i can imagine what my poor mother would say about it if she were living. she came of fine old kentucky stock, and it would humiliate her deeply to know to what a level we had been reduced." "my dear mrs. bleak," said quimbleton, as he hoisted his betrothed into the saddle and the pilgrims began to move, "i know of a great deal of good old kentucky stock that has had a far worse fate than that in these tragic years." chapter viii with benefit of clergy through the sullen streets of the terrorized city miss chuff, quimbleton and bleak proceeded toward the great building where the pan-antis had their headquarters. they had left mrs. bleak, the children and the horse at a quiet soda-fountain in the suburbs. after repeated application over the wireless telephone, the terrible bishop--the prohibishop, as quimbleton called him--had agreed to grant them an audience, and had accorded them safe-conduct through the chuff troops. even so, their progress was difficult. every few hundred yards they were halted and subjected to curt inquiry. men and women who had heard of their gallant struggle against fearful odds pressed forward in an attempt to seize their hands, to embrace and applaud them, but these evidences of enthusiasm were sternly repressed by the chuffs. bleak was frankly nervous as they approached the chuff building. "what line of talk are we going to adopt?" he asked. "like any self-respecting line," replied quimbleton, "ours will be the shortest distance between two points. the first point is that we want to obtain something from chuff. the second is that we have some information to give him which will be of immense value to him. this we shall hold over him as a club, to force him to concede what we want." "and what is this club?" asked bleak, somewhat suspicious of his friend's sanguine disposition. "the admirable plan," said quimbleton, "is theodolinda's idea. she knows her father better than we do. she says that his passion is for prohibiting things. he thinks he has now prohibited everything possible. we are in a position to tell him something that still remains unprohibited. his eagerness to know what that may be will make him yield to our request." bleak pondered gloomily. as far as he could recall, the prohibition government had overlooked nothing. the quaint part of it was that some of its prohibitions, carried to their logical extreme, had curiously overleaped their mark. for instance, finding it impossible to enforce the laws against playing games on sundays, the government had concluded that the only way to make the sabbath utterly immaculate was to abolish it altogether, which was done. other laws, probably based upon genuine zeal for human welfare, had resulted in odd evasions or legal fictions. for instance, people were forbidden to miss trains. the penalty for missing a train was ten days' hard labor splitting infinitives in the government tract-factory. rather than impose this harsh punishment on any one, good-hearted engineers would permit their trains to loiter about the stations until they felt certain no other passengers would turn up. consequently no trains were ever on time, and the government was forced to do away with time entirely. another thing that was abolished was hot weather. it had been found too tedious to tilt the axis of the earth, therefore all the thermometers were re-scaled. when the temperature was really degrees, the mercury registered only degrees, and every one was saying how jolly cool it was for the time of year. this, of course, was careless, for there was no such thing as time or year, but still people kept on saying it. bleak was thinking over these matters when he suddenly recalled that it was forbidden to remember things as they had been under the old regime. he pulled himself up with a start. in order to make his mind a blank he tried to imagine himself about to write a leading editorial for the balloon. this was so successful that he did not come to earth again until they stood in the ante-room--or as quimbleton called it, the anti-room--of the bishop. "who is to be spokesman?" he said apprehensively, gazing with distaste at the angular females who were pecking at typewriters. "it would be unseemly for me to present my own claims in this project. quimbleton, you are the one--you have the gift of the tongue." "i would rather have the gift of the bung," whispered quimbleton resolutely as they were ushered into the inner sanctum. the dreaded bishop sat at an immense ebony flat-topped desk. the room was furnished like his mind, that is to say, sparsely, and without any southern exposure. a peculiarly terrifying feature of the scene was that the top of the desk was completely bare, not a single paper lay on it. remembering his own desk in the newspaper office, bleak felt that this was unnatural and monstrous. he noticed a breathoscope on the mantelpiece, with its sensitive needle trembling on the scaled dial which read thus:-- as he watched the indicator oscillate rapidly on the dial, and finally subside uncertainly at zero, he thanked heaven that they had indulged in no psychic grogs that day. the bishop's black beard foamed downward upon the desk like a gloomy cataract. quimbleton for a moment was almost abashed, and regretted that he had not thought to whitewash his own dingy thicket. bishop chuff's piercing and cruel gaze stabbed all three. he ignored theodolinda with contempt. his disdain was so complete that (as the unhappy girl said afterward) he seemed more like a younger brother than a father. there were no chairs: they were forced to stand. in a small mirror fastened to the edge of his desk the sneering potentate could note the dial-reading of the instrument without turning. he watched the reflected needle flicker and come to rest. "so, mr. quimbleton," he said, in a harsh and untuned voice, "you come comparatively sober. strange that you should choose to be unintoxicated when you face the greatest ordeal of your life." the savage irony of this angered quimbleton. "one touch of liquor makes the whole world kin," he said. "i assure you i have no desire to claim kinship with your bitter and intolerant soul." "ah?" said the bishop, with mock politeness. "you relieve me greatly. i had thought you desired to claim me as father-in-law." "oh, parent!" cried theodolinda; "how can you be so cruel? sarcasm is such a low form of humor." "i am not trying to be humorous," said the bishop grimly. "you, who were once the apple of my eye, are now only an apple of discord. you, whom i considered such a promising child, are now a breach of promise. you have sucked my blood. you are a vampire." "the vampire on whom the sun never sets," whispered quimbleton to the terrified girl, encouraging her as she shrank against him. "this is no time for jest," said the bishop angrily. "you said you had a matter of vital import to lay before me. make haste. and remember that you are here only on sufferance. i shall be pitiless. i shall scourge the evil principle you represent from the face of the earth." "we do not fear your threats," said quimbleton stoutly. "we are not alarmed by your frown." he was, greatly, but he was sparring for time to put his thoughts in order. he started to say "uneasy lies the head that wears a frown," which was an aphorism of his own he thought highly of, but theodolinda checked him. she knew that her father detested puns. it was perhaps his only virtue. "bishop chuff," said quimbleton, "perhaps you are not aware of the strength and tenacity of the sentiment we represent. i assure you that if you underestimate the power of the millions of thirsty mouths that speak through us, you will rue the consequences. trouble is brewing--" "neither trouble, nor anything else, is brewing nowadays," said the terrible bishop. theodolinda saw that quimbleton was losing ground by his incorrigible habit of talking before he said anything. she broke in impetuously, and explained the plan for the perpetual souse. her father listened to the end with his cold, forbidding gaze, while the sensitive needle of the recording instrument on the mantel danced and wagged in agitation. "so this is your scheme, is it?" he said. "abandoned offspring, you deserve the gallows." "wait a moment," said quimbleton. "now comes the other side of the argument. if you grant us this concession we in turn will put you in possession of a magnificent idea. you think that you have prohibited everything. your vetoes cumber the earth. but there is still one thing you have forgotten to prohibit." "what is it?" said the bishop coldly. his hard face was unmoved, but his eyes brightened a trifle. "there is one thing you have forgotten to prohibit," said quimbleton solemnly. "i can hardly conceive how it escaped you. the one thing that harasses human beings over the whole civilized world. the one thing which, if you were to abolish it, would make your name, foul as that now is, blessed in the ears of men. oh, the joy of still having something to prohibit! the unmixed bliss and high privilege of the vetoing function! i envy you, from my heart, in still having something to forbid." the bishop stirred uneasily in his chair. "what is it?" he said. quimbleton watched him with a steady and slightly annoying smile. "i like to dwell in imagination upon your surprise when you realize what you have overlooked. it seems so simple! to abolish, prohibit, banish, and remove, at one swoop, the chief preoccupation of mankind! the simple and high-minded felicity of still having something prohibitable subject to your omnipotent legislation! but there, i dare say i am wrong. probably you are weary of prohibiting things." quimbleton made a motion to his companions as though to leave the room. the bishop leaped to his feet, with curiously mingled anger and eagerness on his face. "stop!" he cried. "you can't mean laughter? i abolished that some weeks ago. i don't believe there is anything left--" "how quaint it is," said quimbleton (as though talking to himself), "that it is always the plainly obvious that eludes! but, of course, the reason you have not abolished this matter before is that to do so would wholly alter and undermine the habits of the race. nothing would be the same as before. i daresay a good deal of misery would be caused in the long run, who knows? ah well, it seems a pity you forgot it--" "hell's bells!" roared the bishop, bringing his fist down on the desk with fury--"what is it? let me get at it!" "i should be sorry to marry into a profane family," was quimbleton's reply, moving toward the door. the bishop chewed the end of his beard with a crunching sound. this unpleasant gesture caused a tingle to pass along bleak's sensitive spine, already strained to painful nervous tension. the office of the perpetual souse hung in the balance. "look here," said bishop chuff, "if i let you have your way about the--the permanent exhibit, will you tell me what it is i have forgotten to prohibit?" "with pleasure," said quimbleton. "will you put it down in black and white, please?" he secured the bishop's signature to a document giving instructions for the necessary legislation to be passed. folding the precious paper in his pocket, quimbleton faced the black-browed bishop. he held theodolinda by the hand. "i am sorry," he said, "that i should have forgotten to bring a ring with me. if i had done so, you might have married us here and now. at least you will not refuse us your blessing?" "blessings have been abolished," said chuff in a voice of exasperation. "now inform me what it is that i have forgotten to condemn." "work!" cried quimbleton, and the three ran hastily from the room. chapter ix the election in the days following quimbleton's coup chuff was in seclusion. it was rumored that he was ill; it was rumored that the sounds of breaking furniture had been heard by the neighbors on caraway street. but at any rate the bishop lived up to his word. orders over his signature went to congress, and vast sums of money were appropriated immediately for the establishment and maintenance of a national park with suitable buildings and appurtenances wherein might be maintained an elected individual in a state of freedom, with access to alcoholic beverages, in order that successive generations might view for themselves the devastating effects of alcohol upon the human system. no political campaign was ever contested with more zeal and zest than that which led up to the election of the perpetual souse. life had grown rather dreary under the innumerable prohibitions of the chuff regime, and the citizens welcomed the excitement of the campaign as a notable diversion. quimbleton appointed himself chairman of the committee to nominate bleak, and the editor (acting under his friend's instructions) had hardly begun to deny vigorously that he had any intention of being a candidate before he found himself plunged into a bewildering vortex of meetings, speeches, and confessions of faith. marching clubs, properly outfitted with two-quart silk tiles and frock coats, were spatting their way plumply down the boulevard. torchlight processions tinted the night; ward picnics strewed the shells of hard-boiled eggs on the lawns of suburban amusement parks, while bleak, very ill at ease, was kissing adhesive babies and autographing tissue napkins and smiling horribly as he whirled about with the grandmothers in the agony of the carrousel. more than once, reeling with the endless circuit of a painted merry-go-round charger, the perplexed candidate became so confused that he kissed the paper napkin and autographed the baby. he found quimbleton a stern ringleader. virgil was not satisfied with the old-fashioned method of stumping the country from the taff-rail of a pullman car, and insisted on strapping bleak into the cockpit of a biplane and flying him from city to city. they would land in some central square, and the candidate, deafened and half-frozen, would stammer a few halting remarks. he felt it rather keenly that quimbleton looked down on his lack of oratorical gift, and it was a frequent humiliation that when words did not prosper on his tongue his impatient pilot would turn on the motors and zoom off into space in the very middle of a sentence. nevertheless, the campaign went famously. bleak had one considerable advantage in being comparatively unknown. he had never permitted himself the luxury of making enemies: except for a few ex-reporters who had once worked on the balloon he had not a foe in the world. quimbleton had been eager to import a covey of gunmen from other cities, but when these arrived there was really nothing for them to do. they were glad to accept jobs from bishop chuff, and were well paid for waylaying and sniping the few grapes and apples that had escaped previous pogroms. there was only one plank in bleak's modest platform, but he walked it so happily that it began to look like a gangplank leading onto the ship of state. he expressed his doctrine very agreeably in his speech accepting the party nomination; though credit should be given to theodolinda, who had assisted him by a little private seance before he addressed the convention. "ladies and gentlemen," he said (looking as he spoke at one of the handbills announcing his candidacy for the dignity of mouthpiece of the nation)--"i issue dodgers, but i never dodge the issue. i can take it or let it alone, but frankly, i prefer to take it. i hope i speak modestly: yet candor insists that both by past training and present inclination i feel myself fitted to deal with the problems of this exalted office. if elected to this high place of trust i shall regard myself solely as the servant of the public, solely as the representative of your sovereign will. as i raise the glass or peel the lemon, i shall not act in any individual capacity. my own good cheer (i beg you to believe) will be my last thought. i shall remember, in every gesture and every gulp, that my thirst is in reality the thirst of a nation, delegated to me by ballot; that my laughter and song (if things should go so far) are truly the mirth and music of a proud people expressing themselves through me. i shall be at all times accessible to my fellow-men, solicitous to hear their counsel and command. believing (as i do) in moderation, yet i should not dream of permitting private sentiment to interfere with public interest when more violent measures should seem desirable. "i like to think, my fellow-citizens, that you have conferred this nomination upon me not wholly at random. i like to think that i am only expressing your thought when i say that many drinkers have been the worst enemies of the cause we all hold dear. the alcoholshevik and the i.w.w.--the i wallow in wine faction--have done much to discredit the old bland jeffersonian toper who carried tippling to the level of a fine art. i have no patience with the doctrine of complete immersion. ever since i was first admitted to the bar i have deplored the conduct of those violent and vulgar revelers who have brought discredit upon the loveliest, most delicate art known to man. now, at last, by supreme wisdom, drinking is to be elevated to the dignity of a career. i like to think that i express your sentiment when i say that drinking is too precious, too subtle, too fragile a function to be entrusted to the common crowd. therefore i heartily applaud your admirable intention of entrusting it entirely to me, and look forward with profound satisfaction to the privilege of enshrining and perpetuating in my own person the genial traditions that have clustered round the institution of liquor. if elected, i shall endeavor to carry on the fine old rituals and pass them down unimpaired to the next incumbent. i shall endeavor to make duty a pleasure, and pleasure a duty. i shall remind myself that i am only performing the service to humanity that each one of you would willingly render if you were in my place. "my fellow-citizens, i thank you for your amiable confidence, and am happy to accept the nomination." there were some who criticized this speech on the ground that it was too academic. it was remembered that mr. bleak had at one time been a school-teacher, and his opponents were quick to raise the cry "what can a schoolmaster know about liquor?" it was said that mr. bleak was too scholarly, too aloof, too cold-blooded: that his interest in booze was merely philosophical, that he would be incompetent to deal with the practical problems of actual drinking: that he would surround himself with drinks that would be mere puppets, subservient entirely to his own purposes. the adherents of jerry purplevein, the nominee of the other party, made haste to assert that bleak was not a drinker at all but was a tool of the chuff machine. jerry was a former bartender who had been pining away in the ice-cream cone business. huge banners appeared across the streets, showing highly colored pictures of mr. purplevein plying his original profession, with the legend: rally round the flagon vote for purplevein the practical man one of the exciting features of the campaign was the sudden appearance of a woman's party, which launched an ably-conducted boom for a woman souse and nominated miss cynthia absinthe as its candidate. the idea of having a woman elected to this responsible office was disconcerting to many citizens, but miss absinthe's record (as outlined by her publicity headquarters) compelled respect. she was reputed to have been a passionate and tumultuous consumer of sloe gin, and thousands of women in white bartenders' coats marched with banners announcing: absinthe makes the heart grow fonder vote for cynthia and our slogan is sloe gin for a while there was quite a probability that the male vote would be so split by bleak and purplevein that miss absinthe would come in ahead. but at the height of the campaign she was found in a pharmacy drinking a maple nut foam. after this her cause declined rapidly, and even her most ardent partisans admitted that she would never be more than an intermittent souse. purplevein's followers, in their desperate efforts to discredit bleak, overplayed their hand (as "practical politicians" always do). the sagacious quimbleton outmaneuvered them at every turn. moderate drinkers rallied round bleak. moreover, the bleak party had an irresistible assistant in the person of miss chuff, who put her trances unreservedly at dunraven's disposal. in this way quimbleton was able to produce his candidate before a monster mass meeting at the opera house in a state of becoming exhilaration. this forever put an end to the rumor that bleak was not a practical man. miss chuff also campaigned strenuously among the women, where purplevein (being a bachelor) was at a disadvantage. "vote for bleak," cried miss chuff--"he has a wife to help him." purplevein's argument that the office of perpetual souse should be an entirely stag affair fell dead before theodolinda's glowing description of the hostess house which mrs. bleak would conduct next door to the little temple which was to be erected by the government for the successful candidate. despite the exhaustion of the campaign, bleak stood it well. quimbleton, knowing the disastrous effects of over-confidence, kept his man at fighting edge by a little judicious pessimism now and then, and rumors of the popularity of purplevein among the hard drinkers. day after day quimbleton and miss chuff, after a little psychic communing, would prop the editor among cushions in the big gray limousine and spin him about the city and suburbs to bow, smile, say a few automatic words and pass on. over the car floated a big banner with the words: let bleak do your drinking for you: he knows how. the unhappy purplevein, who had to do his electioneering in a state of chill sobriety, was aghast to see the beaming and gently flushed face of his rival radiating cheer. at the eleventh hour he tried to change his tactics and plastered the billboards with immense posters: bleak doesn't need the job--he's soused already this line of argument might perhaps have been powerful if adopted earlier, but by that time the agreeable vision of bleak's ascetic features wreathed in a faintly spiritual benignance was already firmly fixed in the public imagination. the little celluloid button showing his transfigured and endearing smile was worn on millions of lapels. as one walked down the street one met that little badge hundreds of times, and the mere repetition of the tenderly exhilarated face seemed to many a citizen a beautiful and significant thing. men are altruistic at heart. they saw that bleak would make of this high office a richly eloquent and appealing stewardship. they were reconciled to their own abstinence in the thought that the dreams and desires of their own hearts would be so nobly fulfilled by him. alcohol was gone forever, and perhaps it was as well. they themselves were conscious of having abused its sacred powers. but now, in the person of this chosen representative, all that was lovely and laughable in the old customs would be consecrated and enshrined forever. men who had known bleak in the days of his employment on the balloon recollected that even during the cares and efforts of his profession little incidents had occurred that might have shown (had they been shrewd enough to notice) how faithfully he was preparing himself for the great responsibility destiny held concealed. the day of the election was declared a national festival. the chuff government, a good deal startled by the universal seriousness and enthusiasm shown in the enrollment at the primaries, was disposed (in secret) to regard the office of perpetual souse as a helpful compromise on a vexed question. the war against nature had been only partially successful: indeed the chuff chief-of-staff declared that nature had not learned her lesson yet, and that some irreconcilable berries and fruits were still waging a guerilla fermentation, thus rupturing the armistice terms. the countryside had been ravaged, all the chautauqua lecturers were hoarse, industry was at a standstill, misery and despair were widespread. even the indomitable chuff himself was a little nonplussed. better (he thought) one man indubitably, decorously, publicly, and legally drunk, than millions of citizens privily attempting to cajole raisins and apples into illicit sprightliness. the citizens went to the polls in a mood of exalted self-denial. they knew that they were voting away their own rights, but they also knew that their private ideals would be more than realized in the legalized frenzy of their representative. bleak, appearing on the balcony of his hotel, smiled affectionately on the loyal faces that cheered him from below. he was deeply moved. to quimbleton (who was supporting him from behind) he said: "their generosity is wonderful. i shall try to be worthy of their confidence. i hope i may have strength to put into practice the frustrated desires of these noble people." the result of the polling was to be announced by a searchlight from the city hall. a white beam sweeping eastward would mean the election of purplevein. a white beam sweeping westward would mean the triumph of miss absinthe. a steady red beam cast upward toward the zenith would indicate the victory of bleak. at ten o'clock that night a scream of cheers burst from millions of people packed along the city streets. a clear, glowing shaft of red light leaped upward into the sky. dunraven bleak had been elected perpetual souse. purplevein, who was rather a decent sort, hastened to bleak's hotel to offer his congratulations. bleak, who was sitting quietly with mrs. bleak, quimbleton and theodolinda, greeted him calmly. poor purplevein was very much broken up, and quimbleton and theodolinda, in the goodness of their hearts, arranged a quiet little seance for his benefit. they all sat their drinking psychic three-star in honor of the event. as quimbleton said, helping purplevein back to his motor--"hitch your flagon to a star." chapter x e pluribus unum! virgil and theodolinda were returning from their honeymoon, which they had spent touring in quimbleton's spad plane. they had been in south america most of the time, where they found charming hosts eager to console them for the tragical developments in the northern continent. it was a superb morning in early autumn when they were flying homeward. beneath them lay the green and level meadows of new jersey, and the dusky violet blue of the ocean shading to a translucent olive where long ridges of foam crumbled upon pale beaches. they turned inland, flying leisurely to admire the beauty of the scene. the mounting sun spread a golden shimmer over woods and corn-stubble. white roads ran like ribbons across the landscape. quimbleton glided gently downward, intending to skim low over the treetops so that his bride might enjoy the rich loveliness of the view. suddenly the great plane dipped sharply, tilted, and very nearly fell into a side-slip. quimbleton was just able to pull her up again and climbed steeply to a safer altitude. he looked at his dashboard dials and indicators with a puzzled face. "very queer," he said to theodolinda through the speaking tube, "the air here has very little carrying power. it seems extraordinarily thin. you might think we were flying in a partial vacuum." from the behavior of the plane it was evident that some curious atmospheric condition was prevailing. there seemed to be a large hole or pocket in the air, and in spite of his best efforts the pilot was unable to get on even wing. finally, fearing to lapse into a tail spin, he planed down to make a landing. beneath them was a beautiful green lawn surrounded by groves of trees. in the middle of this lawn they struck gently, taxied across the smooth turf, and came to a stop beneath a splendid oak. quimbleton assisted his wife to get out, and they sat down for a few minutes' rest under the tree. "what a heavenly spot!" cried theodolinda, "i wonder where we are?" "somewhere in new jersey," said her husband. "i don't understand what was the matter with the air. it didn't act according to hoyle." they gazed about them in some surprise at the opulent beauty of the scene. it seemed to be a kind of park, laid out in lawns, gardens and shrubbery, with groves of old trees here and there. a little artificial lake twinkled in a hollow. they happened to be gazing upward when a small round ball of tawny color fell from the tree. it was a robin. folded solidly for sleep, he fell unresisting by the flutter of a wing, turning over and over gently until he struck the turf with the tiniest of soft thuds. he bounced slightly, rolled a little distance, and settled motionless in the grass. quimbleton, amazed, stooped over the fallen bird, supposing it to be dead. without lifting it from the ground he withdrew its head from under its wing. the bright eye unlidded and gazed at him sleepily. then the bird closed its eye with a certain weary resignation, put its head back under its wing, and relaxed comfortably in the grass. quimbleton was no very acute student of nature, but this seemed very odd to him. and then, examining the lower limbs of the tree, he uttered an exclamation. he swung himself up into the oak and shook one of the branches. five other birds plopped comfortably into the grass and rested as easily as the first. he examined them one by one. they were all sound asleep. "most amazing!" he said. "my dear, we will have to take up nature study. i am really ashamed of my ignorance. i always thought that owls were the only birds that slept by day." theodolinda was looking at the five small bodies. she raised one of them gently, and sniffed gingerly. "virgil," she said solemnly, "this is not mere slumber. these birds are drunk!" quimbleton was about to speak when a grasshopper went by like an airplane, zooming in a twenty-foot leap. a bee sagged along heavily in an irregular zig-zag, and a caterpillar, more agile and purposeful than any caterpillar they had ever seen, staggered swiftly across a carpet of moss. the same thought struck them simultaneously, and at that moment theodolinda noticed a small white signboard affixed to a tree-trunk in the grove. they ran to it, and saw in neat lettering: to the perpetual souse, one mile "bless me!" cried quimbleton. "what a stroke of luck! you know old bleak wrote us when we were in rio that he had been installed in his temple, but he didn't say where it was. let's toddle up and have a look at him. that's why the bus acted so queerly. no wonder: we were probably flying in alcohol vapor." they walked through the grove and emerged upon a lawn that sloped gently upward. at the brow stood a beautiful little temple of greek architecture. as they approached they read, carved into the marble architrave: aedes temulenti perpetui e pluribus unum the little porch, under the marble columns, was cool and shady. a signboard said: visiting hours, noon to midnight. quimbleton looked at his watch. "it's not noon yet," he said, "but as we're old friends i dare say he'll be willing to see us." pushing through a slatted swinging door of beautifully carved bronze, they found themselves in a charmingly furnished reference library. there were lounges and deep leather chairs, and ash trays for smokers. quimbleton, who was something of a bookworm, ran his eye along the shelves. "a very neat idea," he said. "they have collected a little library of all the standard works on drink. this should be of great value to future historians and researchers." through another swinging door they found the central shrine. it was circular in shape, illuminated through a clear skylight. under the rotunda was a low, broad marble counter, surmounted by a gleaming mirror and a noble array of bottles, flasks, decanters, goblets and glasses of every size. the pale yellow of white wines, the ruby of claret, the tawny brown of port, the green and violet and rose of various liqueurs, sparkled in their appointed vessels. in front of this altar stood a three-foot mahogany bar, with its scrolled rim and diminutive brass rail, all complete. a red velvet cord hung from brass posts separated it from the open floor. a series of mural paintings, in the vivid coloring and superb technique of maxfield parrish, adorned the walls of the room. they portrayed the history of alcohol from the dawn of time down to the summer of . a space for one more painting was left blank, and mr. and mrs. quimbleton concluded that the artist was still at work upon the final panel. an attendant in white was polishing glasses behind the tiny bar. he was an elderly man with a pink clean-shaven face and the initials p. s. were embroidered on the collar of his starched jacket. there was an air of evident pride in his bearing as he listened to their exclamations of admiration. "your first visit, sir?" he said. "yes," said quimbleton. "i must confess i had no idea it would be as fine as this. what time does mr. bleak get in?" "he usually opens up with a nip of scotch about eleven-thirty," said the bartender. "just so as to get up a little circulation before opening time. he's got a hard afternoon before him to-day," he added. "how do you mean?" said quimbleton. "one of the excursion trains coming. the railroad runs cheap excursions here three days a week, and the crowds is enormous. when there's a bunch like that there's always a lot wants mr. bleak to take some special drink they used to be partial to, just to recall old times. of course, being what you might call a servant of the public, he doesn't like not to oblige. but i doubt whether he's got the constitution to stand it long. the other day the mint julep veterans of kentucky held a memorial day here, and mr. bleak had to sink fifteen juleps to satisfy them. i tell him not to push himself too far, but he's still pretty new at the job. he likes to go over the top every day." "your face is very familiar," said theodolinda. "where have we seen you before?" "i wondered if you'd recognize me," said the bartender. "i've shaved off my mustache. i'm jerry purplevein. when i was turned down in that election i thought this would be the next best thing. as a matter of fact, it's better. i don't really care for the stuff; i just like to see it around. miss absinthe felt the same way. she's head stewardess up to the hostess house." "it seems to me i used to see you somewhere in new york," said quimbleton. "i was head bar at the hotel pennsylvania," said jerry. "we had the finest bar in the world, had only been running a couple of months when prohibition come in. they turned it into a soda fountain. ah, that was a tragedy! but this is a grand job. government service, you see: sure pay, tony surroundings, and what you might call steady custom. mr. bleak is as nice a gentleman to mix 'em for as i ever see." "but what is this for?" asked theodolinda, pointing to a beautiful marble cash register. "surely mr. bleak doesn't have to buy his drinks?" "no, ma'am," said jerry, "but he likes to have 'em rung up same as customary. he says it makes it seem more natural. here he is now!" jerry flew to attention behind the three-foot bar, and they turned to see their friend enter through the bronze swinging doors. "well, well!" cried bleak. "this is a delightful surprise!" he was dressed in a lounging suit of fine texture, and while he seemed a little thinner and paler, and his eyes a little weary, he was in excellent spirits. "come," he said, "you're just in time for a bite of lunch. jerry, what's on the counter to-day?" jerry bustled proudly over to the free-lunch counter, whipped off the steam-covers, and disclosed a fragrant joint of corned beef nestling among cabbages and boiled potatoes. with the delight of the true artist he seized a long narrow carving knife, gave it a few passes along a steel, and sliced off generous portions of the beef onto plates bearing the p. s. monogram. this they supplemented with other selections from the liberally supplied free-lunch counter. soft, crumbling orange cheese, pickles, smoked sardines, chopped liver, olives, pretzels--all the now-forgotten appetizers were laid out on broad silver platters. "i wish i could offer you a drink," said bleak, "but as you know, it would be unconstitutional. with your permission, i shall have to have something. my office hours begin shortly, and some one might come in." he took up his station at the little bar behind the velvet cord, and slid his left foot onto the miniature rail. jerry, with the air of an artist about to resume work on his favorite masterpiece, stood expectant. "a little scotch, jerry," said bleak. in the manner reminiscent of an elder day jerry wiped away imaginary moisture from the mahogany with a deft circular movement of a white cloth. turning to the gleaming pyramid of glassware, he set out the decanter of whiskey, a small empty glass, and a twin glass two-thirds full of water. his motions were elaborately careless and automatic, but he was plainly bursting with joy to be undergoing such expert and affectionate scrutiny. bleak poured out three fingers of whiskey, and held up the baby tumbler. "here's to the happy couple!" he cried, and drank it in one swift, practiced gesture. he then swallowed about a tablespoonful of the water. jerry removed the utensils, again wiped the immaculate bar, and rang the cashless cash-register. the perpetual souse smiled happily. "that's how it's done," he said. "do you remember?" "we're just back from south america," said quimbleton. "some of the boys from the old balloon office were in here the other day," said bleak. "i'm afraid it was rather too much for them--in an emotional way, i mean. i tossed off a few for their benefit, and one of them--the cartoonist he used to be, perhaps you remember him--fainted with excitement." "well, how do you like the job?" said quimbleton. bleak did not answer this directly. making an apology to jerry and promising to be back in a few minutes, he escorted his visitors round the temple and gave them some of the picture postcards of himself that were sold to souvenir hunters at five cents each. he showed them the cafeteria for the convenience of visitors, the hostess house (where they found mrs. bleak comfortably installed), the ice-making machinery, the private brewery, and the motor-truck used to transport supplies. in a corner of the garden they found the children playing. "it's a good thing the children enjoy playing with empty bottles," said bleak. "it's getting to be quite a problem to know what to do with them. i'm using some of them to make a path across the lawn, bury them bottom up, you know. "but you ask how i like it? i would never admit it before jerry, because the good fellow expects more of me than i am able to fulfill, but as a matter of fact this is hardly a one-man job. there ought to be at least seven of us, each to go on duty one day a week. no--you see, being a kind of government museum, i don't even get sundays off because lots of people can only get here that day. next after mount vernon and independence hall, i get more visitors than any other national shrine. and almost all of them expect me to have a go at their favorite drink while they're watching me. being what you might call the most public spirited man in the country, i have to oblige them as much as possible. but i doubt whether i shall be a candidate for reelection. "i think the government has rather overestimated my capacity," he continued. "they import a shipload of stuff from abroad every month, and send an auditor here to check over my empties. i've been hard put to it to get away with all the stuff. i've had to fall back on your old plan of using wine to irrigate the garden. it's had rather a dissipating effect on the birds and insects, though. really, you ought to spend an evening here some time. the birds sing all night long: they have to sleep it off in the morning. a robin with a hang-over is one of the funniest things in the world." "we saw one!" cried theodolinda. "he was more than hanging over--he had fallen right off!" "there's a butterfly here," said bleak--"rather a friend of mine, who can give a bumble bee the knock-out after he gets his drop of rum. i've seen him chase a wasp all over the lot." from the temple came the sound of chimes striking twelve, and down in the valley they heard the whistle of a train. "there's the excursion train leaving souse junction," said bleak. "i must get back to the bar!" they returned to the shrine, and bleak entered his little enclosure. "jerry," he said, "the crowd will soon be here. i must get busy. what do you recommend?" "better stick to the scotch," said jerry, and put the decanter on the mahogany. bleak drank two slugs hastily, and turned to his friends with an almost wistful air. "come again and stay longer," he said. "i see so many strangers, i get homesick for a friendly face." he called quimbleton aside. "does mrs. quimbleton keep up her trances?" he whispered. "not recently," said virgil. "you see, in south america there was no necessity--but when we get settled--" "you are a lucky fellow," whispered bleak. "all the enjoyment without any of the formalities!" and he added aloud, grasping their hands, "next time, come in the evening. a man in my line of work is hardly at his best before nightfall." as they walked back to the plane, mr. and mrs. quimbleton saw the excursionists, a thousand or so, hastening through the park on foot and in huge sight-seeing cars where men with megaphones were roaring comments. one group of pedestrians bore a large banner lettered egg nog memorial association of camden, n. j. "poor mr. bleak!" said theodolinda. "on top of all that scotch!" when they took the air again they circled over the temple at a safe height. they could see the crowd gathered densely round the little white columns. virgil shut off the motor for a moment, and even at that distance they could hear the sound of cheers. chapter xi it's a long worm that has no turning bishop chuff sat sourly in his office and sighed for more worlds to canker. round the room stood the tall filing cases containing card indexes of prohibited offences, and he looked gloomily over the crowded drawers in the vain hope of finding something that had been overlooked. he pulled out a drawer at random--schedule k- , minor social offenses--and ran his embittered eye over a card. it was marked conversational felonies, and began thus: arguing blandishing buffoonery contradicting demurring ejaculating exaggerating facetiousness giggling hemming and hawing implying insisting jesting each item also referred to another card on which the penalty was noted and legal test cases summarized. "no," he brooded, "there is nothing left." even the most loyal of the bishop's staff admitted that he was far from well, and it was decided that he ought to take a vacation. he himself concurred in this, and as the home resorts were no longer places of mirth and glee, he determined to go to europe. this would have the added advantage of enabling him to spend some time conferring with prohibition leaders abroad as to ways and means of converting europe to his schemes of reform. everyone in the office showed genuine unselfishness in making plans for the bishop's vacation, and he was urged to stay away as long as he felt he could be spared. europe, too, was much excited over the prospect of his coming, and the british prime minister was questioned on the subject in the house of commons. for his entertainment on the voyage a set of twelve beautiful folio volumes, bound in black morocco, were prepared. they contained a digest of prohibition legislation which chuff had been instrumental in having put on the statutes. for the first time in years the bishop was cheered as he passed about the streets, and he realized that he had never known how popular he was until it was announced that he was going away. but still he was not content. one morning, not long before the date set for his sailing, he sat gloomily at his desk. he was engaged in making his will, and had found to his secret bitterness that after bequeathing a few personal trinkets to the office staff there was really no one to whom he could leave the bulk of his misfortune. theodolinda, of course, he had quite cut off from his estate. he only knew that she was living somewhere with the degraded quimbleton, carrying on a little psychic tavern which no laws could reach, in a state of criminal happiness. from the street, far beneath his open window, he heard the clamor of a police patrol and leaned eagerly over the sill in the hope of seeing something that would cheer his black mood. but it was only a man being arrested for leaning against a lamp-post--a rather common offence at that time, for most of the normal occupations of the citizens had been prohibited, and they mooned about the highways in a state of listless discontent. but then, farther down the channel of the street, he saw something that caught his eye. a group of people were marching with flags and signs toward the railway station. saturday school picnic to souse temple, he read on a banner. he noticed that in spite of all the laws against smiling in public, these people bore a look of suppressed merriment. they were obviously out for a good time. a sudden thought struck him. that afternoon, in impenetrable disguise, the bishop paid his first visit to the temple of dunraven bleak. the next morning, when his subordinates came to see him about the final plans for his departure, they were horrified to find him sitting at his desk wearing in the recesses of his beard what would have been called (on any other man) a smile. "i have changed my mind," he said. "i am not going away." they cried out in amazement, and pointed out to him how sorely in need of relaxation he was. "i am planning relaxation," he said, and that was all they could get out of him. later in the day a confidential messenger was dispatched to the private printing press of the chuff organization, bearing the text of a poster which was found broadcast over the whole country a few days later. it ran thus: at the next election for perpetual souse vote for chuff the people's friend the end generously made available by the internet archive/american libraries.) the menace _of_ prohibition by lulu wightman advocate of civil and religious liberty. they that can give up essential liberty to obtain a little temporary safety deserve neither liberty nor safety.--_patrick henry_ price cents los angeles printing co. west first street. +great questions of the hour+ a pamphlet containing a series of mrs. wightman's lectures on themes of absorbing interest----about the very things that +you+ are +thinking+ and +talking+ about +to-day!+ --the all-important questions --the perplexing questions --the paramount questions mrs. wightman's views on public matters--political, religious and economic--should claim the serious attention of every citizen of the united states. a third edition necessary to meet the demand pages, with portrait of the author, good paper, clear type, attractive cover. price, cents, by mail, postpaid write name and address plainly address the author mrs. lulu wightman west first st., los angeles, cal. the menace of prohibition by lulu wightman "no man in america has any right to rest contented and easy and indifferent, for never before, not even in the time of the civil war, have all the energies and all the devotion of the american democracy been demanded for the perpetuity of american institutions, for the continuance of the american republic against foes without and more insidious foes within than in the year of grace ." _--hon. elihu root, in address before the new york state bar association, hotel astor, new york, january th, ._ copyright, , by lulu wightman preface most writers, in viewing the question of prohibition, have followed along a beaten track. they have confined themselves generally to consideration of moral, economic, and religious phases of the subject. while i have not entirely ignored these phases, i have chiefly engaged in the task of pointing out a particular phase that it appears to me entirely outweighs all others put together; namely, that of the effect of prohibition, in its ultimate and practical workings, upon the political--the structure of american civil government. i have endeavored to steer clear of its professions and obsessions, all of which can be of little consequence in the light of my contention that the major matter with which prohibition is concerned is the capture and overturning of our present system of jurisprudence; and that the danger threatening from this tendency is real and foreboding i have conscientiously tried to make clear in these pages. that national prohibition is an approaching enemy to free government, of which the people should be warned even at the risk of being grossly misunderstood, is my opinion. from the watch-towers of american liberty the warning should go forth. for my own part, i feel well-repaid with the conscientious effort i have made in "the menace of prohibition." lulu wightman. [illustration: lulu wightman.] contents page a false principle political power the object political activities at washington prohibition and sunday laws sumptuary laws increasing a dangerous combination an old-time fallacy industrial conditions responsible the opinion of an economist effects of prohibition collective tyranny in government prohibition censorship despotic we hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal; that they are endowed by their creator with certain inalienable rights; that among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.--_the declaration of independence._ =john stuart mill defines prohibition in this language:= "prohibition: a theory of 'social rights' which is nothing short of this--that it is the absolute right of every individual that every other individual shall act in every respect exactly as he ought; that whosoever fails thereof in the smallest particular violates my social rights and entitles me to demand from the legislature the removal of the grievance. so monstrous a principle is far more dangerous than any single interference with liberty;--there is no violation of liberty which it would not justify." and in the light of the last sentence, "so monstrous a principle is far more dangerous than any single interference with liberty;--there is no violation of liberty which it would not justify," the writer would especially examine this modern crusaders movement for prohibition. many other writers have viewed the question from sociological, economic, and religious standpoints; but the =principle= of the thing,--that in which it is based--a "monstrous" principle, which, as mill says, "=is far more dangerous than any single interference with liberty=," deserves more serious consideration than any other phase of the question: a principle, in fact, of intolerant coercion as against the great principle of individual liberty so thoroughly established as the inherent right of the citizen at the very inception of this government in the western world. to do justice to this particular phase of the question of prohibition--a principle so dangerous and "monstrous" that there is "no violation of liberty which it would not justify"--it is necessary to be courageous, honest, unafraid, and not "soaked to the pulp in the pseudo-puritanical, moral antiseptic bath of conventional prejudices." here in america we have had enough of base misrepresentation, rotten hypocrisy, and sugar-coated sentimentality. what we really need now is honesty of purpose and courage of conviction, let the criticizing mob be of "the upper ten thousand or lower," it matters not. a false principle =what is the real menace of prohibition?= it is the false =principle= from which it derives its life and being. "we are the good people," say the moral reformers: "you are the bad; therefore it is the duty of the good people to seek control of the government and to enact laws that will make you bad people good." the platform of the prohibition party of ohio states it in a different way, but in essence it is the same thing: "the prohibition party of ohio ... recognizing almighty god, revealed in jesus christ, and accepting the law of god as the ultimate standard of right ... the referendum in all matters of legislation not distinctively moral." in this scheme of government, as it is plainly revealed, "the law of god" as it would be =interpreted= by the prohibitionists, would be the supreme standard of all matters distinctively moral, and the initiative and referendum would be relied upon, and allowed in all matters of legislation "=not= distinctively moral." this was exactly what happened in the dark ages and early new england: "good people" sought and secured the control of the government, "the law of god" was made "the ultimate standard of right" as interpreted by the "good people" in power, and the "bad people" were put to the torture. as the result of just such a scheme, barbaric practices reigned in the name of law: thumb-screw and rack were brought into requisition, calvin burned servetus, quakers were hanged and witches burned, roger williams banished, and mary dyer hung by the neck until she was dead,--and all because "almighty god, revealed in jesus christ," was recognized in government, and "the law of god" made the ultimate standard of right. but between "almighty god" and "the law of god" there always stood the interpreter of that law, and the bigoted, blinded, fanatical follower of creed who mistook his creed for god, and his =will= and =opinion= for the law of god. had god and his law been left alone, no possible harm could have resulted. under this scheme of religious and moral government, jews, agnostics, and non-christian elements, and even christians that do not acquiesce in the scheme, have no recognition; and under the administration of the moral reform element would have no place in the country, except on sufferance! and just what would happen to people who repudiated a church-and-state system of government like this! let us see: the prohibitionist invariably argues that "the god of the bible" authorizes prohibition in civil government; it is religious, and a bible doctrine, he contends, and therefore should receive recognition not only by the people, but by the government as well; and all who cannot, whether from conscientious scruples or other reasons, agree with them, are opponents of "the god of the bible," of true religion, and of government. very frequently the charge of "anarchist" is hurled against those who cannot agree with them, and ofttimes the most unscrupulous and un-christian methods are resorted to, to crush out all opposition. and what the opponents of prohibition might expect, if prohibition ever reaches the zenith of political power, may be determined from a statement by rev. e. b. graham, in a speech made at york, neb. he said: "we might add, in all justice, if the opponents of the bible do not like our government and its christian features, let them go to some wild and desolate land, and in the name of the devil and for the sake of the devil, subdue it, and set up a government of their own on infidel and atheistic ideas; and then if they can stand it, stay there till they die." the foregoing, at least, shows some of the christian features (?) of the program of the reform party. the program winds up with the banishment of the minority to some wild and desolate land where they may remain until they die! the trouble is, if liberty-loving citizens of the united states, jealous of their rights and constitutional guaranties and determined to preserve them even to the point of quitting their beloved country, should go to some wild and desolate land, and set up a government where they could enjoy religious and personal freedom, it would not satisfy the prohibition moral-reform forces. all past history shows that they would follow to the wild and desolate land, and destroy, if possible, every vestige of such government as was opposed to their narrow and intolerant ideas! political power the object the initiative and referendum is good enough for the prohibition party when applied to "all matters of legislation not distinctively moral;" but when morals are involved, "the law of god" only is binding, and the initiative and referendum is repudiated. their =interpretation= of the demands of "the law of god"--not actually the law itself--would become the supreme law of the land, and all the power of the government, in their hands, would be set to enforcing it. need it be said that this would be repeating the history of the dark ages and medieval times in the most accurate detail! mr. eugene w. chafin, prohibition candidate for president, in , said: "i don't want any person who claims to be a party prohibitionist--a middle-of-the-road prohibitionist--ever to sign another petition, or ask congress or any legislature anywhere under the american flag to pass any prohibitive laws on the liquor question. we don't want any laws of any kind whatever passed. =all we want is to be elected to power....= elect us to power, and we will repeal a few laws and do the rest by =interpretation= of the constitution and =administration= of the government." mr. ferdinand cowle inglehart, n. y., supt., of the anti-saloon league, in the =review of reviews=, february, , page , said: "the pastors and members of the churches turned the state (oregon) into =an organized political camp=." this was indeed a frank confession upon the part of mr. inglehart. he might have truthfully added that it was the anti-saloon league which was the moving spirit that invaded the churches and spurred on the "pastors and members of the churches" to turn the sovereign state of oregon into "=an organized political camp=." a political camp is, beyond question, organized for political ends. prohibition in oregon, as elsewhere, was the "cheshire cheese," and political power the goal of its ambition. and now in oregon, as elsewhere, we shall hear the cry: "now that we have prohibition, we must fill the public offices with 'good men' to enforce the law: 'turn the rascals out' and put good men in office"; and, of course, "good men" must be prohibitionists always. none others need apply. oh, it is a fine scheme; but unfortunately, it takes no cognizance of the =minority=--those who are quite equal in american citizenship, and who lose none of their civil rights by virtue of their being the =minority=. political activities at washington mr. l. ames brown, in "prohibition and politics," published in the =north american review= of december, , points to some of the features of the anti-saloon league programme, in the nationalization of prohibition--a very interesting and valuable contribution upon the subject. very accurately--and apparently without any prejudices--mr. brown shows the workings of the prohibitionists in the political. he calls attention to the prohibition rider in the district of columbia appropriation bill, "an amendment to the district bill to foist prohibition upon the people of the district without a referendum," and continuing, says: "the prohibitionists, with one or two exceptions, refused to listen to suggestions that the legislation be submitted to a vote of the district of columbia, thus disregarding the principle of self-government which they had agitated so vigorously in local option campaigns." in this attempt to force the people of the district to submit to their dictation, and to keep them from voting upon the measure, the prohibitionists showed clearly that they were =without regard for the sentiment of the people to be affected=. this was evidently one of those "distinctively moral" questions upon which the people are not supposed to vote--or at least are not to be allowed to vote, if the prohibitionists can have their way--but in this act at the seat of government, they have, indeed, given proof of their absolute disregard for the principle of self-government which they prate so much about in local option campaigns. they have shown to what lengths they would go, if they could. mr. brown is authority for the statement that had this district bill gone to president wilson without a provision for a =referendum=, he would have immediately vetoed it. according to mr. brown, the anti-saloon league is strongly intrenched at washington. he says that it "maintains at washington one of the most powerful lobbies ever seen at the national capital," and regarding its influence upon the nation's law-makers he has this to say: "its representatives, backed by an organized influence of public opinion, are enabled to dictate the attitude of a considerable number of congressmen on a pending question, with the result that congressmen oftentimes are driven to vote against their own views and their own consciencies in favor of measures advocated by the lobby." mr. brown gives a very lucid account of the bold and defiant activities of the powerful anti-saloon league lobby at washington--and as to the results, he has this to say: "the harmful effect of such a lobbying enterprise upon our system of government does not admit of controversy." mr. brown is convincing to the reader in his conclusions of "prohibition and politics" which, to sum up, may be stated as--=a growing and insidious power in the political realm, inimical to the american institutions of government=. and if a rapidly growing power, which was practically unknown a decade ago, is so great in =politics= and =government= today, what may we expect a decade hence! the prohibition movement then, unquestionably, is simply a means to an end,--the stepping-stone to political power,--the pathway to the goal of political ambition; and it seems only fair to presume that all the hue and cry over drunkenness and the inability of some men to control their natural appetites is, after all, only a minor matter; but the question of seizing the political power, and filling governmental offices only with "good men" is the major matter. and the real issue, power to rule and to enjoy the emoluments of public office. and the real menace, the overturning of the present system of government wherein the privileges and rights of the individual are safeguarded, and the setting up of a new standard of authority, namely, "the law of god" as =interpreted= by the prohibitionists and moral reformers. =and it is the interpretation that is to be feared!= the remotest possibility of the success of such an unjust, un-american, illiberal and dangerous form of tyranny in government, should alarm the american people beyond and above every other question, even that of war; and should set them to the task of a close analysis of the subject and trend of prohibition. when the true american finds that as a result of the outgrowths of the "monstrous principle," and under rapidly multiplying laws and regulations, he is forbidden to dispose of his property as he pleases; forbidden to amuse himself as he pleases on holidays; forbidden to read what books he pleases and to look at what pictures he pleases; to dress, think and drink as he pleases, he will set his face like a flint against the tyrannical and inquisitorial demands of the modern crusaders, and he will attempt to halt their inroads and innovations on the government. the ballot-box is his opportunity. there he may register his disapprobation, and put a curb on the restless, uneasy, political charlatan who, under the guise of moral reform, would seize the machinery of political government and make it an engine of tyranny and oppression. it must be kept in mind that the clerical politicians of the prohibition party (no distinction can be made between the prohibition party and the anti-saloon league: they are one and the same in intent and purpose) are interested not merely in the enactment of prohibitory liquor laws. they want laws prohibiting everything that does not conform to their interpretation of theological dogmas. prohibition and sunday laws they are as determined to secure compulsory sabbath day observance laws as they are to obtain prohibition laws; and wherever and whenever you find a movement for one, you invariably find, sooner or later, a demand for the other. prohibition and sunday laws go hand in hand. in fact, they result from the same cause--the desire to control individuals; the application in civil law of the fallacious theory that it is "the social right of every individual that every other individual shall act in every respect exactly as he ought to act." nothing is further from the truth of the principle of free and popular government, and nothing so destructive of the rights and privileges of man. sunday laws can find no justification except in a church-and-state system of government which essays to establish a practice grounded in religious belief; to fix upon a particular rest-day, and say to individuals how they shall observe that day. a compulsory law for sunday or sabbath observance is equivalent to a law for compulsory baptism, or compulsory church service, or the support of the church: in like manner, sumptuary laws that determine what one may not drink, may extend to defining what one may eat, =_ad infinitum_=, until a thousand and one articles of food and drink are "unlawful"--articles of diet and consumption that to a large proportion of the citizens may seem harmless, if not, indeed, beneficial. the sabbath law says to you what you must religiously do; and if it may extend to the observance =of a day=, it may extend to =all= religious duties and practices without exception: the prohibition law tells you what you may not =drink=, and if it presumes the right to prescribe in the matter of drink, it may extend to the matter of determining what is fit, and what is not fit, =to eat=--and it could continue until a dietary list and a fashion plate had been fixed by legal enactment. it is not difficult to see that the sunday law and prohibition are quite identical in character; the source of their origin must be the same: at least, it is plain that their introduction and operation =in civil government= is destructive of personal freedom and choice. sumptuary laws increasing these restrictions by law are eternally increasing, so that it has become almost impossible for a citizen of the republic to live a single day without violating one or more laws. in almost every relation of life the conduct of the american is minutely regulated. many of these restrictions are founded upon a muddled conception of the public good: their aim would seem to be to protect the innocent bystander. but we cannot see how the innocent bystander profits, when the free citizen is forbidden to go fishing on sunday, to smoke in public, to see certain plays, to get anthony comstock reports and the kreutzer sonata through the mails; to say in public just what he wants to say--to exercise freedom of speech; to kiss his girl in the parks, or a woman to wear abbreviated skirts,--=_ad libitum!_= these prohibitions burden the individual without conferring any appreciable advantage upon the mass, or even upon other individuals. the struggle between two wholly different theories of life--the puritanical spirit on one hand, and the liberal spirit on the other--is on, and it is becoming fiercer every day. said congressman richard bartholdt, in a speech made in the house of representatives: "the attempts to further and further restrict our liberties in a puritan sense are carried on in the garb of a religious movement, and the ministers of all churches and the members of all congregations are constantly called upon for support and money to maintain lobbies in both the national and state capitals; and these lobbyists are cracking the whip over our lawmakers, and are urging them to pass more and more restrictive laws,--laws which in their mistaken zeal, they believe will make people good. i do not exaggerate, my friends, when i say that if this movement is not stopped, and stopped soon, the american people before long will find themselves wrapped up in a network of 'don't's' which will completely hamper their freedom of action; and instead of being freemen in all matters of personal conduct, they will be slaves fettered by the chains of un-american laws. "permit me, in this connection, to call attention to a most remarkable fact; namely, that the people in many cases =actually vote to enslave themselves=. history tells us of despots who kept their subjects in perpetual serfdom, and of rulers who robbed the people of their freedom; but there is no case on record, so far as we know, where the people of their own volition and by their own votes robbed themselves of their own birthright. the united states is the first example of this kind. the history of the human race is =a constant struggle for liberty=, and every concession wrung from the oppressors was heralded as a new triumph of progress and civilization. here we have the example of a generation which, though being free, =voluntarily surrenders its social liberty and forges with its own hands the fetters of slavery=. now, can you account for that? is it because we do not sufficiently appreciate our heritage on the theory that what you inherit and what comes to you easily you do not value as what you have to fight for yourselves? or is it because the people do not fully realize just what they are doing =by joining forces with those who are conspiring against their highest interests=? i leave these questions for you to answer. perhaps we are guilty on both counts." if the writer were to answer these questions, she would be constrained to say that the last count is the strongest count: the people do not realize what they are doing =by joining forces with those who are conspiring against their highest interests=. the average american has become a chronic joiner. he does not stand for something: he must belong to something. the prohibition movement comes along and appeals to his sentimental and emotional nature. he has been schooled to depend largely on sentiment, and trained to march with the crowd. to act as a responsible unit has been practically impossible. he has never thought upon the question deeply; he has been part of a muddled mass of humanity, thinking as the mass thought and acting as they acted: he has not been the soul-free individual he imagined himself to be; his acts and opinions have been nothing more than weak reflections of the opinions and acts of the muddled mass. he joins the prohibition forces, and thereafter thinks less than before, because, being joined to something, he can safely trust to that something--the organized mass which, in turn, thinks and acts just as a few self-appointed and ambitious leaders think and act. there is no more for him to do now than to walk up to the polls and vote precisely as he is bidden to do. he has become a real automaton. and he does not once realize that he has =joined forces with those who are conspiring against his highest interests=. he helps to pass a law that takes away his neighbor's rights and privileges, and does not dream that in so doing he is taking away his own rights and constitutional guaranties, and as surely undermining the fabric of our free institutions and thereby hastening national decay and national ruin. a dangerous combination prohibitionists, once they are seated upon the throne of civil power, do not intend to stop at the passage of laws prohibiting the liquor traffic. as has already been stated, they are fully as interested in securing compulsory sabbath observance laws, and in fact, as stated at the [ ]inter-church conference in new york city in , "to secure a larger combined influence for the churches of christ in =all matters= affecting the =moral= and =social= conditions of the people, so as to promote the application of the law of christ =in every relation of human life=." this, indeed, means a wide range of activities, and the individual citizen may well enquire, and with apprehension, as to just how far this =combined influence= is to go in its invasion of "=every relation of human life=." if it actually means what it says, and proposes to invade "every relation of human life" with a string of laws and regulations as complex and as multitudinous as the relations of human lives, the student of political government, if not the citizen, may ask of this gigantic combination of the so-called moral forces of the country: =what will be the ultimatum? where will it all end? what is to become of the unit of citizenship?= "straws show which way the wind is blowing," is an old saying. in this connection, the following article--a portion of an editorial--that appeared in the =sacramento (cal.) bee=, oct. , , is both interesting and significant: as a further example of the intolerant, domineering and narrow-minded tendencies of the prohibitionists, witness this communication recently published by the new york evening sun, signed "herman trent, of the anti-saloon league," and dated at englewood, new jersey: "speaking now in my personal capacity, and not as a member of the anti-saloon league, i will say i regard the anti-liquor crusade =as merely the beginning of a much larger movement=--a movement that will have as its watchword 'efficiency in government.' "if i had my way i would not only close up the saloons and the race-tracks. i would close all tobacco shops, confectionery stores, delicatessen shops and other places where gastronomic deviltries are purveyed--all low theatres and bathing beaches. "i would forbid the selling of gambling devices such as playing cards, dice, checkers and chess sets; i would forbid the holding of socialistic, anarchistic and atheistic meetings; i would abolish the sale of tea and coffee, and i would forbid the making or sale of pastry, pie, cake and such like trash." this at least is consistent. and mr. trent is startlingly frank in thus boldly publishing his programme. in a lecture work extending to all parts of this country and for a quarter of a century of time, i have found a great many herman trents, and i fear they are increasing, and i know they are becoming emboldened. after all, are we so far removed from the blue-law regime of early new england? be certain of one thing: =today, we would see just such a regime except for a due regard for the constitution and a minimum majority of votes=. as to compulsory sabbath observance by civil law, we have the recommendation of the general assembly of the presbyterian church, held in chicago recently. the resolutions of this national church body were as follows: "that the general assembly reiterates its strong and emphatic disapproval of all secular uses of the sabbath day, all games and sports, in civic life, and also in the army and navy, all unnecessary traveling and all excursions. "that we most respectfully call attention of all public officials to the potent influence of their position on all moral questions, and the necessity of greater care on their part, proportioned to the exalted nature of their offices which they occupy, that they may strengthen rather than weaken by their influence public and private observance of the lord's day. "that the general assembly reiterates its emphatic condemnation of the sunday newspaper, and urges the members of the presbyterian church to refuse to subscribe for it or read it or advertise in it." here is a demand for blue laws, pure and simple. if any american citizen will read the history of the blue laws of connecticut, and how cotton mather whipped the people through the streets of early new england towns for failure to attend sunday services in the meeting-houses, he will think seriously before lending a helping hand to the work of re-inaugurating a social and civil system like that. prohibition and sunday laws are so closely allied, so thoroughly interwoven in the acts and lives of our modern reformers, that i may venture to say that should the prohibitionists ever gain complete political power in this country =we shall see rigid, intolerant sunday laws in comparison to which those early blue laws of connecticut would be a delicate shade=. to doubt this, would be to refute the absolute facts that appear. a prohibition nation would be, beyond every reasonable doubt, a religio-politico system of government in which every spark of the liberties of the people would be extinguished; and this because, as mill says, "so monstrous a principle is far more dangerous than any single interference with liberty;--there is no violation of liberty which it would not justify." therefore, we conclude that the principle underlying and giving rise to prohibition, should it obtain everywhere, would crush out every vestige of =individual liberty=, and its adherents would justify their course by the "monstrous principle"; namely, that "it is the absolute social right of every individual that every other individual shall act in every respect exactly as he ought to act." prohibitionists must necessarily stand for this "monstrous principle," and therefore, as certainly as two and two make four, =prohibition is a menace to the american system of government=. an old-time fallacy for many years the prohibitionists have systematically promulgated the fallacy that the poverty of the working class is caused by drink. and this they continue to do in face of all the facts, amply proven by all available statistics, that flatly contradict the fallacy. on the question of poverty and drink, the opinion of francis e. willard ought to be accepted by the prohibitionists first of all. she says: "for myself, twenty-three years of study and observation have convinced me that =poverty is the prime cause of intemperance=, and that misery is the mother and hereditary appetite the father of the drink hallucination.... for this reason i have become an advocate of such =a change in social conditions= as shall stamp out the disease of poverty even as medical science is stamping out leprosy, smallpox, and cholera; and i believe the age in which we live will yet be characterized as one of those dark, dismal, and damning ages when some people were so dead to the love of their kind that they left them in poverty without a heartache or a blush." an editorial in the =new york world= some time ago contained the following significant statement: "only two families in every hundred of the which have been in the care of the association for improving the condition of the poor this summer were brought to poverty =through intemperance=. the percentage goes against preconceived notions and is, indeed, surprisingly small. it should disturb that prosperous complacency which sees in poverty only or mainly the penalty for wanton misdeed. the association's report for showed that intemperance, imprisonment, desertion, 'shiftlessness and inefficiency,' all told, accounted for not per cent of those brought to want. the figures for that year showed that per cent of the poverty was due to two causes--sickness and unemployment." carroll d. wright, in the "eighteenth annual report of the commission of labor," shows that only one-fourth of one per cent of all cases of non-employment in the united states is due to intemperance. during the winter months of - , the number of unemployed men and women in the united states was appalling. new york, chicago, san francisco, and the large cities, were taxed to the utmost to care for the "jobless." it was estimated that new york city had its quota of , idle, chicago , , san francisco , . organized armies of the unemployed clamored for work and for bread, and in the country districts idle men were everywhere tramping to and fro in search of work. "the unemployed" was a standing headliner of the public press. suicides from inability to find work were startlingly prevalent; and the whole country was perplexed as to how to adjust complex conditions so as to relieve untold suffering and misery. were the prohibitionists on hand at that time with any sort of a program, solution or panacea for the difficulty? not at all. all their efforts were reserved for election day; their energies stored up for the glad time when well-paid agitators travel the country in pullman cars to tell the people of rural communities that "poverty is caused by drink." industrial conditions responsible the fact of the matter is: that in the time when the situation of the unemployed is most aggravated--when it attracts nation-wide attention--singularly enough, no voice was raised, either by individuals, societies, labor organizations, or the press, publicly, attributing the abnormal and distressing conditions =to the drink habit=. all these know better. they know, as the new york association discovered by its investigation, that inability to find work, and sickness, has brought the great army of idle men and women to their plight. they know that our productive ability is increasing much more rapidly than our consumptive capacity, and that the statesmen-ship of this country as well as that of every other country in the world is grappling not with any merely individual or national, but with a world problem. they know that in china, with its hundreds of millions of frugal, temperate, hard-toiling people; in turkey, with its sober, industrious, mahomet-worshiping masses; in india, with its almost countless thousands, governed by strict religious, moral and ethical codes,--the trouble is identical: =it is economic=. in the present industrial system of those lands, as well as our own, there is no longer work enough for all, not sufficient jobs for the number of toilers, and thus, necessarily and unfortunately, there must be the great bodies of the unemployed. the trouble lies in the industrial and social system, and not in the individual primarily, whether he be turk, chinaman, hindoo or christian. all the statistics gathered from every available source will bear out the assertion that =the problem is economic=, and it is only unwise presumption that will even attempt to lay these distressing conditions and results to the drink habit. but you may explode this popular fallacy of the prohibitionist into atoms, and he persistently gathers together the fragmentary portions of his fanciful theory, and comes back with the same old story and tells it in the same old way. perhaps he realizes that to allow its peaceful demise, means to leave prohibition standing absolutely without a remedy for the problem of unemployment or the general industrial conditions of over-production. then, having no practical remedy for intemperance, no remedy for the ills and troubles of the working-class, and no remedy for anything else, he should graciously step aside and make room for the real world-movements for improvement and progress along rational and practical lines of individual and national development. he ought to realize that in the final analysis all evils are connected with life itself, for evil is not in things, but in men or women who abuse or misuse things. and he should recognize the patent truth that "you cannot legislate men by civil action into the performance of good and righteous deeds." the opinion of an economist mr. j. b. osborne, in "the liquor question--political, moral and economic phases," says: "the abolition of poverty and better education for the masses, are the only remedies for the disease of alcoholism. "alcoholism, however, is not as prevalent as mr. chafin or the usual advocate of prohibition would have you believe. united states reports for show the average number of deaths attributed to alcoholism to be only ; from scalds and burns, ; from drowning, ; from poison, ; from suicide, ; while killed and maimed on railroads we have a total of about , . "certainly no one would advocate the prohibition of water because people annually get drowned; nor the abolition of the railroads because , are killed and maimed annually. "thousands of workingmen lose their lives every year in the coal and lead mines, but no efforts are made by the prohibitionists to secure proper ventilation and inspection of the mines or safety appliances for the railroads. that the state has power to prohibit or abolish the legalized sale of liquor no intelligent person will deny. the state has power also to abolish the church and transform its property into state property as was recently done in france under the direction of premier clemenceau. "the action of the french government in this instance, however, did not reduce the amount of religion in france; on the contrary, it had the effect of making the lukewarm churchman more active and zealous in the church's cause. "under laws prohibiting the liquor business we find the same results. in the state of maine, the oldest prohibition state in the union, we find more arrests for drunkenness, in proportion to the population, than in any state where we have the licensed saloon. "all christian nations have for centuries accepted the prohibitory laws of the ten commandments such as 'thou shalt not kill,' and yet it is the same christian nations that have the largest armies and navies, and that have been doing nearly all the killing for thousands of years; likewise, 'thou shalt not steal,' while today the most respected citizens of every christian nation in the world are, at the same time, the world's biggest robbers. "the power of government is limited when it comes to controlling or regulating the thought of the individual, nor is it in the province of government to say when, where, or what, citizens should eat, drink or wear. the wisest government would promote conditions under which the people would have plenty to eat, plenty to drink, plenty to wear and good houses to live in. what he should eat and drink as well as the amount and kind, or the color of the clothes he should wear, should be the function of the individual." effects of prohibition the effect of prohibition, sumptuary law enacted in government, upon the political fabric of the government, should claim the serious attention of american citizens particularly. we can hardly recur to the consideration of this subject too often. prohibition is essentially a repressive measure, and all history shows that repressive measures, under ordinary conditions, not only fail, but worse than fail. in aiming to do away with one evil, prohibitionists set up a vastly greater one. in our american political life the very worst political conditions may ensue. prohibition laws do not actually prohibit, as every one knows; but they do bring about a state of affairs, upon whatever scale attempted, abhorrent to every right-thinking person. as to some of the results, professor hugo munsterberg, of harvard university, says: "judges know how rapidly the value of the oath sinks in courts where =violation of the prohibition laws= is a frequent charge, and how habitual perjury becomes tolerated by respectable people. the city politicians know still better how closely blackmail and corruption hang together, in the social psychology, with the enforcement of laws that strike against the belief and traditions of wider circles. the public service becomes degraded, the public conscience becomes dulled. and can there be any doubt that disregard of laws is the most dangerous psychological factor in our present-day american civilization." and upon this question of the effectiveness of prohibitory legislation, and the effects of such legislation on the moral life of the nation, the committee of fifty on the physiological aspects of the liquor problem in its exhaustive report published in , said: "there has been concurrent evil of prohibitory legislation. the efforts to enforce it during forty years have had some unlooked-for effects on public respect for courts, judicial proceedings, oaths and laws in general, and for officers of the law, legislators and public servants.... the public has seen law defied, a whole generation of habitual law-breakers schooled in evasion and shamelessness, courts ineffective through fluctuations of policy, delays, perjuries, negligencies and other miscarriages of justice, officers of the law double-faced and mercenary, legislators timid and insincere, candidates for office hypocritical and truckling, and office-holders unfaithful to pledges and public expectation. through an agitation which has always had a moral end, =these immoralities have been developed and made conspicuous=." representative claude u. stone, of illinois, in the debate in congress over the hobson resolution for national prohibition, said: "there is state-wide prohibition in maine, and the webb-kenyon law prevents the overriding of that law by other states, and yet there are cities in maine that have more shops per capita for the public sale of liquor than my home city, which is the greatest distilling city in the world. in parts of maine candidates for sheriff, who have the enforcing of the law, =cannot be elected to office if they do not give a public pledge that they will violate their oath of office and will not enforce the laws=. the same can be said of georgia, another prohibition state. it is for this reason that the people should be permitted to determine by their own votes the character of restraint that should be placed upon themselves." in the same debate in congress, representative julius kahn, of california, remarked: "mr. speaker, prohibition is not temperance. temperance makes for human progress. it should be invoked in regard to our food, our drink, our dress, and even our physical exercise. as many people die from overeating as die from excessive use of alcohol. excessive physical exercise has frequently led to heart failure and death. temperance not alone in the use of alcohol, but temperance in everything that affects the human race, is what should be taught in the homes and schools of this country. temperance harms no one, on the contrary, it does good. =prohibition on the other hand, has generally resulted in making men liars, sneaks and hypocrites.= if men want liquor, they can invariably get it, and they can get it even in prohibition states." the testimony is quite overwhelming: that prohibition in government corrupts courts, encourages false oaths, intimidates legislators, causes public officials to be double-faced and mercenary; makes sneaks, liars and hypocrites out of men; increases bribery; opens the way for illegal traffic, and fosters an immoral negligence of law and order! and in addition to all this, it lessens drunkenness not a whit; but on the contrary, increases intemperance, making it more possible and perhaps more inviting to those unable to curb the appetite. what an indictment is this of prohibition; and being true, it would seem these well-established and undeniable facts concerning the results of prohibition would serve to convince the citizen who is governed by reason and sound judgment rather than by sentiment and emotion, that prohibition in its practical development is =a real menace to the american system of government=! collective tyranny in government left to impractical theorizing, prohibition is harmless: allowed to enter the realm of civil government as a practical working force, it becomes dangerous, threatening not only one liberty, but all the liberties of the people. for in the principle of prohibition lies the germ of collective tyranny from which may arise every species of intolerance and despotism--an intolerative principle as far removed from =the principle of american liberty= as heaven is from hell, and as different in every essential from the spirit of republican government--a true democracy--as the breath of the polar iceberg is different from the blaze of the equatorial sun! could the american public see prohibition =as it is=, and not what it seems to be:--then this un-american and un-christian movement would speedily be relegated to the shades of oblivion, and =real and effective reform along moral, social and intellectual lines would begin=. as it is, prohibition actually stands, like a chinese wall, in the pathway of =real reform=. says professor munsterberg: "the evils of drink exist, and to neglect their cure would be criminal; but to rush on to the conclusion that every vineyard ought, therefore, to be devastated is unworthy the logic of a self-governing nation." the evils of gluttony also exist, and that more people die from direct and indirect causes arising from overeating than from drink will not be denied, yet who would propose a law to close the butcher shops, and prohibit the milling of fine flour and the importation of tea and coffee--higher medical and dietary authorities having decided all these latter to be injurious--in order to improve the physical condition of the people! compulsory prohibition, according to mr. joseph chamberlain, m.p., "only leads to drinking in worse forms than under the old system." count tolstoi, in speaking of the prohibition movement in america expressed the belief that "the people in america seem to be tending in a wholly wrong direction in this matter." justin mccarthy, m.p., alludes to prohibition in the united states as a "gross and ludicrous imposture." president andrew d. white refers to the theory and practice as regards the drink problem as "pernicious." sir william treloar, former lord mayor of london, calls these restrictive measures "ridiculous." bishop hall, of vermont, asserts that "prohibition drives underground the mischief which it seeks to cure." thousands of good, well-informed citizens of this country, high in public and social life, many of these leaders in religious sentiment and thought, are united in the belief that prohibition begins at the wrong end of the matter, and they renounce it as not only weak, inefficient and impractical, but destructive to the american ideals. the art of self-control, public and scientific education, an understanding of hygienic and healthful living, proper social and economic development and surroundings: in these lie the true solution of the problem of intemperance; and not at all in sumptuary laws and prohibitory legislation, simply because these latter "put the cart before the horse," strike at effects and not at causes. prohibition censorship despotic let us not forget the principles for which our great american republic stands. recollect, that the tendency toward imperial government and despotic rule is here today as it has been in every nation and in every age of the world. menaces to the rights and privileges of the people are ever-present: the continued structure of safeguarding laws and constitutions presuppose the enemy to be ever near:--tyranny may slumber, but let bigotry and intolerance call ever so softly, and it springs into active life and being, and on every occasion, with consummate cunning, justifies its demands with a specious pretext--censorship for the good of the people. prohibition censorship is one of these specious pretexts; but censorship invariably arrogates to itself the prerogatives of monarchy and the exactions of martial law. government of an emperor is as well as government by unreasoning, tyrannous =majority=. in government, middle ground is rarely found, and if it is, it is only for a temporary period and for reasons of expediency: it; is a question of republic or empire, freedom or slavery, liberty or despotism, the life or death of the people! censorship by =the majority=--as to what the individual shall eat, or drink, or wear, or religiously or irreligiously do or observe--is as hateful to the genuine american citizen as would be the censorship of =a czar=! censorship is dictatorial and despotic: it overrides american law and american ideals; it is the rule of =a suzerainty= in place of =fundamental government=: it claims to be acting =under= government, but it is actually acting =above= government. censorship is not =freedom=; the very word itself precludes the view: censorship is =slavery=, intensified or modified; it is the same thing whether it be under american rulers or the great khan of tartary. prohibition censorship is only the =beginning=: it is not the end. beneath it all, lie the claws of the tiger--the claws of fanatical bigotry and misrule--and ultimately, if not checked, the whole american people =will feel those claws=. =but then: it would be too late!= long ago john quincy adams sounded a timely warning. he said: "forget not, i pray you, the right of personal freedom: =self-government is the foundation of all our political and social institutions=. seek not to enforce upon your brother =by legislative enactment= the virtue that he can possess =only= by the =dictates of his own= conscience =and the energy of his will=." in conclusion: john stuart mill is right, when he says prohibition is "so monstrous a principle" as to be "far more dangerous than any single interference with liberty"; a principle that there is "=no violation of liberty which it would not justify=." all religious despotism commences by combination and influence, and as well-said by col. richard m. johnson in his memorable u. s. senate report of , "when that influence begins to operate upon the political institutions of a country the civil power soon bends under it; and the catastrophe of other nations furnishes an awful warning of the consequence." will the people of this great nation listen to the siren voice of this modern destroyer of personal freedom, and cutting loose from ancient moorings, turn back to the hateful paths of despotism? will the republic deny the sacred principles of religious and personal liberty, whose first purchase-price was the blood of the minutemen of lexington? or, like a political rock of gibraltar, stand fast upon the fundamental principles of its being, continuing to safeguard and maintain the constitutional guaranties of all its citizens? it is the american people that must answer these momentous questions! and answer them they will! there is no escape from the responsibility! =the future of the republic rests upon their decision!= it is the bounden duty of every american freeman, to speak against, to write against, to vote against =the menace of prohibition=! =prohibition is a menace to= =the prosperity of the community.= =the peace and tranquillity of the people.= =the constitutional liberties of the citizens.= =the political institutions of the land.= =the stability of the republic.= =a vote against prohibition is a vote against these menaces!= +the menace of prohibition+ should be widely circulated by every advocate and champion of personal liberty and constitutional rights right at this time--in the crisis of american liberty! there is nothing just like it the arguments are not of the +stereotyped+ class the facts given are indisputable it does not offend +the man on the other side of the question+ it appeals to the citizen who desires fair play--and wants to see the american republic continue a free nation, safeguarding the interests of +all+ and granting "special privileges to none" remember always-- "eternal vigilance is the price of liberty" single copies, cents each by mail, postpaid special rates on large quantities-- , and lots--will be given upon application address the author-- mrs. lulu wightman west first st., los angeles, cal. footnote: [ ] inter-church conference was the beginning of the national federation of the churches, which maintains a prohibition department and is committed to the programme of prohibition. transcriber's notes: passages in italics are indicated by _italics_. passages in bold are indicated by =bold=. underlined passages are indicated by +underline+. punctuation has been fixed without note. [illustration: the rubàiyàt of ohow dryyàm] illustrated by benj. franklin [not of philadelphia] _copyrighted_ _by_ leedon publishing company leedon publishing company flood building san francisco the rubaiyat of ohow dryyam by j. l. duff _with apologies to_ omar [illustration] _illustrated by_ benjamin franklin [_not of philadelphia_] _the rubaiyat of ohow dryyam_ i wail! for the law has scattered into flight those drinks that were our sometime dear delight; and still the morals-tinkers plot and plan new, sterner, stricter statutes to indite. ii after the phantom of our freedom died methought a voice within the tavern cried: "drink coffee, lads, for that is all that's left since our land of the free is washed--and dried." [illustration: _and still the morals-tinkers plot and plan new, sterner, stricter statutes to indite._] iii the haigs indeed are gone, and on the nose that bourgeoned once with color of the rose a deathly pallor sits, while down the lane where once strode johnny walker--water goes. iv come, fill the cup, and in the coffee-house we'll learn a new and temperate carouse-- the bird of time flies with a steadier wing but roosts with sleepless eye--a coffee souse! v each morn a thousand recipes, you say-- yes, but where match the beer of yesterday? and those spring months that used to bring the bock seem very long ago and far away. [illustration: _the bird of time flies with a steadier wing but roosts with sleepless eye--a coffee souse!_] vi a book of blue laws underneath the bough, a pot of tea, a piece of toast,--and thou beside me sighing in the wilderness-- wilderness? it's desert, sister, now. vii some for a sunday without taint, and some sigh for inebriate paradise to come, while moonshine takes the cash (no credit goes) and real old stuff demands a premium. [illustration: _a book of blue laws underneath the bough, a pot of tea, a piece of toast,--and thou ..._] viii the scanty stock we set our hearts upon still dwindles and declines until anon, like snow upon the desert's dusty face, it lights us for an hour and then--is gone. ix ah, my beloved, fill the cup that clears today of past regrets and future fears-- tomorrow!--why, tomorrow i may be in canada or scotland or algiers! x yes, make the most of what we still may spend; the last drop's lingering taste may yet transcend anticipation's bliss--though we are left sans wine, sans song, sans singer, and--sans end. [illustration: _the scanty stock we set our hearts upon ..._] xi alike for those who for the drouth prepared and those who, like myself, more poorly fared, fond memory weaves roseate shrouds to dress departed spirits we have loved--and shared. xii myself when young did eagerly frequent the gilded bar, and all my lucre spent for bottled joyousness, but evermore came out less steadily than in i went. xiii the legal finger writes; and having writ, moves on--and neither thirst nor wit has lured it back to cancel half a line to give a man excuse for being lit. [illustration: _myself when young did eagerly frequent the gilded bar ..._] xiv and bill the bootlegger--the infidel!-- when he takes my last cent for just a smell of hooch, i wonder what bootleggers buy one half so precious as the stuff they sell. xv oh bill, who dost with white mule and with gin beset the road i am to wander in, if i am garnered of the law, wilt thou, all piously, impute my fall to sin? [illustration: _and bill the bootlegger--the infidel!--_] xvi yon rising moon that looks for us again-- how oft hereafter will she wax and wane; but, oh, how oft before we have beheld _six_ moons arise--who now seek _two_ in vain. xvii and when thyself at last shall come to trip down that dim dock where charon loads his ship, i'll meet thee on the other wharf if thou wilt promise to have something on thy hip. [illustration: _but, oh, how oft before we have beheld six moons arise ..._] generously made available by the internet archive/american libraries.) sober by act of parliament by fred a. mckenzie london swan sonnenschein & co., ltd. new york: charles scribner's sons to the memory of my father, who, though passed from human ken, has left behind a precious remembrance of loving kindness and unfailing sympathy, this book is dedicated. preface. it is a truism that men of all shades of opinion are desirous to promote sobriety. it is the _raison d'être_ of the teetotaler and the declared aim of the publican. the advocate of prohibition and the man who would make the trade in drink as free as the sale of bread both profess to be actuated by a desire to extirpate inebriety. can legislation aid us in accomplishing this end, and if so in what way and to what extent? this volume is an attempt to partly answer the question, not by means of elaborate theories or finely drawn inferences, but by a statement of the actual results obtained from liquor laws in various parts of the world. whatever shortcomings may be found in the following pages, i have done my best to ensure their honesty and fairness. i have written with a brief for no particular policy, but with a sincere desire to learn, free from the blinding mists of partisan prejudice, the truth about all. my conclusions may appear to some mistaken, and my treatment inadequate, but i have never suppressed facts that told against my own opinions, arranged statistics to suit myself, or consciously placed incidents in a disproportionate light. the subject is altogether too serious, and involves issues too grave, to allow one to indulge in one-sided statements, garbled facts, or lying statistics. as far as possible, the facts and figures given are taken from official sources. i must acknowledge my indebtedness to many correspondents in america, in australia, and on the continent of europe, as well as at home, who have helped me by collecting statistics and supplying information. without their aid my investigations would have been far more difficult than they have proved. i am also greatly obliged to the editor of the _pall mall gazette_ for permission to reproduce portions of several articles of mine on "liquor laws," which appeared in his journal and in a _pall mall gazette_ "extra" during . fred a. mckenzie. oxberry avenue, fulham. contents. part i.--america. chapter page i. the state as saloon keeper ii. rum and politics iii. forty years of prohibition iv. prohibition in kansas v. the law that failed vi. high licence in pennsylvania part ii.--greater britain. i. prohibition and local option in canada ii. local control in new zealand iii. licensing in australia part iii.--the continent of europe. i. the state as distiller ii. the gothenburg system part iv.--england. i. the growth of the licensing system ii. proposed reforms iii. the problems of reform iv. the path of progress appendices. i. the condition of working men in maine ii. the gin act, sober by act of parliament. part i. america. chapter i. the state as saloon keeper. during the last few months south carolina has been the scene of a remarkable experiment in liquor legislation, which has attracted considerable attention from social reformers everywhere. though professedly based on the gothenburg system, the dispensaries act differs from its prototype in many important respects. as in sweden, the element of individual profit is eliminated, and the control of the trade is taken out of the hands of private persons; but in place of the drink shops being conducted by the municipalities, they are placed under the direct supervision of the state government. the saloon has been abolished, and its place taken by dispensaries, where liquor can only be obtained in bottles for consumption off the premises. all public inducements to tippling have been removed at a sweep; and while it is possible for any sober adult to obtain what liquor he wishes, no one is pecuniarily interested in forcing intoxicants on him. the act was in operation for too short a time to allow anything definite to be said as to its success or failure. it received the fiercest opposition from an influential body of politicians, and from the more lawless section of the community; and the dispossessed saloon keepers, with all the following they could command, naturally did their best to cause it to fail. in the election of the prohibition party showed great activity, and succeeded in obtaining a majority at the polls. the question of the control of the liquor traffic occupied a foremost place at the meeting of the new legislature. many members were in favour of out-and-out prohibition, and a bill was introduced to make the manufacture or sale of drink illegal. but, after considerable debate on the subject, a new measure was hastily brought before the senate, at the instigation of the governor, the hon. benjamin r. tillman, as a compromise between the views of the extreme prohibitionists and those who held that, in the present condition of public opinion, prohibition would be largely inoperative, and consequently injurious to the temperance cause. the measure was rushed through the legislature with little or no debate, and at once received the sanction of the governor. governor tillman is undoubtedly a remarkable man, of bold initiative and great force of character; and it is impossible to understand the situation in south carolina without knowing something about him. within the last decade he has risen from obscurity to the supreme power in the state, and to-day he is "boss" of south carolina. he first came to the front in , by his bitter denunciations of the local democratic rulers. he is himself a democrat, but this did not prevent him from bringing the most serious charges against the members of the aristocratic ring that held the reins of government. he charged them with being the enemies of the poor and oppressors of the people, whose one aim was to conduct public affairs so as to benefit themselves. at first the high-class politicians treated him with a half-amused, half-contemptuous scorn, sneered at what they were pleased to call his ignorant talk, and held his language up to ridicule. and in truth, if reports may be believed, his vigour of speech gave his enemies abundant cause to blaspheme. he was not particular in his choice of phrases, and he did not hesitate to pile up the most picturesque and sanguinary expressions in describing his opponents. but the people rallied around him. "i am rough and uncouth, but before almighty god i am honest," he said to them; and they believed him. the poorer country folks were his first followers, then the farmers' alliance came to his support, and before the old politicians had ceased to wonder at the audacity of the young man, they began to learn that their days of power were over. in he stood for the governorship in opposition to the regular democratic candidate. he stumped the state, and met with a most enthusiastic reception. he was elected by a large majority, and the power of the old ring was, for a time at least, broken. two years later he was once more elected to the same post, and until he tried to carry out the dispensaries act his authority was supreme in the state. one thing is certain: if governor tillman cannot secure obedience to the law, it will be difficult to find any one else who can. the chief provisions of the original dispensary law are as follows. no persons or associations of persons were allowed to make, bring into the state, buy or sell any intoxicating liquors, except as provided for by the act. districts that were previously under prohibition continued so, but in other parts the traffic was conducted by state-appointed officials. the governor appointed a commissioner, whom he must believe to be an abstainer from intoxicants; and this official, under the supervision of the state board of control, purchased all strong drink to be sold in the state, and generally acted as head of the dispensaries. the state board appointed in each county a local board of control, composed of three persons believed not to be addicted to the use of intoxicants. these county boards made the rules for the sale of drink in their own districts, subject to the approval of the state board; and they also appointed dispensers who had the sole power of selling liquors in the districts where they were placed. there are many minute restrictions which had to be observed by the dispensers in vending their wares. a would-be buyer must make a request in writing, stating the date, his age and residence, and the quantity and kind of liquor required. if the applicant was intoxicated, or if the dispenser knew him to be a minor or in the habit of using strong drink to excess, then he must refuse to supply him. if the dispenser did not know the applicant personally, then a guarantee must be given by some person known to both buyer and seller that the former was neither under age nor a habitual drunkard. sales were only to be made during daytime, and the liquor was not to be drunk on the premises. the penalties for breaches of the law were very severe, ranging as high as imprisonment for not under one year or over two years for repeated illegal sales. all profits obtained by the work of the dispensary were divided in three parts,--one half for the state, one quarter for the municipality, and one quarter for the county. the hope of obtaining a considerable revenue was undoubtedly one of the main reasons for passing the act, and governor tillman anticipated a profit of half a million dollars a year for the state. the dispensers were paid, not according to the quantity of their sales, but at a fixed salary named by the board, and not allowed to exceed a certain amount. it was provided in the original act that dispensaries could only be opened in cities and towns, and then not unless the majority of the citizens of a place signed a petition requesting to have them. the new measure came into force on st july, . for many weeks previously there had been great excitement in the state, and as june drew to an end the saloon keepers put forth strenuous efforts to do the utmost possible business in the short time that was left to them. "the situation all over south carolina to-night," said a despatch from charleston on th june, "is peculiar. in charleston there has been in progress all day a huge whisky fair. the air is filled with the tintinnabulation of the auction bells and with the cries of the auctioneer; in dozens of liquor stores are crowds of free-born american citizens buying whisky, wine and beer to lay in a stock against the dry spell, which sets in to-night. in the fashionable groceries extra forces of clerks have been at work day and night for a week, putting up demi-johns and kegs of whisky, brandy, rum, gin, and wine; and battalions of drays and delivery waggons have been employed carting the goods to the railroad depots and to the various residences. it is no exaggeration to say that there are not out of the , houses of white people in the city that are not provided with a supply of liquors to last six months at least." six counties in the state are under statutory prohibition, and consequently no dispensaries could be opened in them. in many other parts the people refused to come under the act, and in towns especially there was a spirit of undisguised opposition to the measure. it is in the towns that the old-line democrats, whom tillman drove from office, have always been the strongest. with the passing of the act they saw their opportunity to have vengeance on him, and possibly to regain their old majority; and they resolved to do their best to wreck his bill. in charleston the word went forth that the law was to be ignored, and, as far as the city authorities could accomplish that end, it has been set at defiance. when the state constables have arrested liquor sellers, the constables have been mobbed and ill-treated; the sheriff has packed the juries; the justices who have tried liquor cases have been notoriously opposed to the law; and, as an inevitable consequence, the clearest evidence of illegal liquor selling has been insufficient to convict any offender there. what is true of charleston is almost equally true of several other places. this, it must be understood, is not because of any fault of the act; but because eager partisans are willing to perjure themselves, to break through the most sacred obligations of office, and to descend to any tricks in order to ruin the tillmanites. the prohibitionists have been divided in their attitude. some of them warmly support the law, but others have united with the old-line democrats in opposing it. they are mostly willing to admit that the tillmanite dispensaries are a vast improvement over the former reign of the saloon; but they are fearful lest the fact that the state conducts the traffic may give it a semblance of respectability, encourage people to drink, and so do more harm than good. "the absolute boss of the state, governor tillman," sneered one, "expects to turn the great commonwealth into one great drinking saloon, such as might carry a signboard, reaching from sea to the mountains, announcing 'benjamin ryan tillman, monopolist of grog'." in his annual message to the legislature, in november, , the governor gave a long and detailed account of the working of the law. according to this statement, there were then fifty dispensaries open, and the total sales in the four months had amounted to , dollars, c., yielding a profit to the state of , dollars, c. this was considerably less than had been anticipated; and the smallness of the profit is no doubt due to the facts that so many people had got in their supplies of drink before the act came in force, and that in many parts the law was very imperfectly enforced. since the governor issued his report there was a very considerable proportionate increase in the gains. in order to ascertain the results of the law on intemperance a circular was sent out to seventy-five cities and towns, asking them to state the number of arrests for drunkenness and disorder arising from liquor drinking for a like period before and since the passing of the act. only thirty-three places replied; and in the whole of these the arrests from st july to th sept., , under the old licence laws, were ; during the same period in , under the dispensaries act, the arrests were only . in september, , arrests were made; in september, , the arrests were . the governor admitted that the amount of illegal liquor-selling going on in the state was considerable, and for this he blamed the local authorities and the railway companies. "there is hardly a train entering the state," he declared, "day or night, passenger or freight, which does not haul contraband liquor. some of the railroads are yielding a measure of obedience to the law; but most of them openly defy it, or lend their line to smuggling liquor into the state.... the police in the cities, as a rule, stand by and see the ordinances broken every day, are _particeps criminis_ in the offence, or active aiders and abettors of the men who break it." in order to stop these things, and to more efficiently enforce the law, the governor demanded fresh legislation. in answer to this demand, the state legislature passed a new measure in december, giving considerably increased powers to the executive. the state board of control was authorised to deprive any city or town refusing to actively co-operate in the enforcement of the law, of its share of the dispensary profits. in place of the board being unable to open a dispensary anywhere except when a majority of the people petitioned for it, the law was made that the board could establish its shops wherever it pleased, unless a majority of the people petitioned against them. it was also found advisable to modify several minor points, such as giving hotel keepers permission to serve their guests with liquor. governor tillman at once made full use of the new powers. he announced that several new dispensaries would be opened in different parts, and he sent a circular to all the mayors, asking if they intended to assist the state officials or not. to those who answered in the negative, he at once sent notice that the share of the profits for their towns would be withheld from them, and used for the purpose of employing special constables to see that the law was carried out there. in march, , the troubles created by the opponents of the dispensaries act came to a head. some state constables were searching for contraband liquors at darlington when the people rose in arms against them. two constables and two townsmen were killed, and the police hastily retired to a swamp. here they were pursued by an infuriated body of citizens; and, had they been found, they would unquestionably have been killed. for a day or two, matters wore a serious look. in one place a dispensary was gutted, and several bodies of the state militia, when ordered by the governor to proceed against the rioters, refused to obey. governor tillman is not a man to be easily intimidated. he promptly seized the telegraphs and the railways, prevented as far as possible the rioters communicating with sympathisers in other parts, and called together the troops he could rely upon. "as governor i have sworn that the laws shall be respected until they are repealed," he said, addressing the militia. "so help me god, i will exert all my power to enforce them. although some of the militia have refused to obey orders, there are still enough to obey. the opponents of the law must submit to the rule of the majority. my life has been threatened; but i have no fear, and i will convoke the legislature if further power is necessary." the soldiers received his message with enthusiasm. at the same time the federal authorities offered to send a large body of national troops, should they be required, to quell the rioting, and in a few hours the powers of the law and order were once more supreme. but had tillman been a ruler of another stamp, had he shown the least sign of yielding to the disaffected, or of eagerness to compromise, then the outbreak at darlington would probably have been only the beginning of serious trouble in the palmetto state. hardly, however, had the riot been suppressed before the state supreme court declared the act unconstitutional. the court, which consists of two conservative judges and one tillmanite, based its decision on the grounds that the measure was not a prohibitory law and was not a police regulation, but was solely a plan for giving the profits of a trade to the state, and therefore it conflicted with the lawful rights of the old saloon keepers. justice pope, the tillmanite, dissented from this view, and pronounced in favour of its being legal, but he was out-voted by his brother judges. the result of this decision is, that all the state dispensaries have been closed, and the saloons are now again openly conducting their business. it is hard to say what the final outcome will be; for the people in the country parts declare themselves resolutely determined not to have the saloon system revived. it is said that as soon as possible one of the old judges will be removed, and his place taken by a tillmanite. the measure will again be carried through the legislature, and once more come before the supreme court. the court will then uphold it, and the state will give the act another trial. but, even if this is so, the prospects of the scheme cannot be said to be bright. there are now enlisted against it a powerful political faction and the authorities of several municipalities. it can count on the unceasing opposition of many whose support is almost absolutely necessary to its success; and hence it will be more than a wonder if, while thus handicapped, it can be anything but a failure. chapter ii. rum and politics. america is pre-eminently the land of legislative experiments; and it has unequalled facilities for giving trial, with comparatively little risk, to many of the professed solutions of those problems which the artificial life of civilised society has produced. on nothing has it made more numerous or varied experiments than on efforts to promote sobriety by law. each state in the union is free, within certain limits, to regulate or suppress the liquor traffic within its own borders, without interference from the federal government. the latter body, however, maintains freedom of inter-state traffic, and has the power to tax liquor, and to impose internal revenue fees on brewers and saloon keepers. these fees are most strictly enforced; and the first thing a man does who contemplates entering the drink trade, whether legally or illegally, is to take out his internal revenue licence. even the individual who surreptitiously sells half a dozen bottles of whisky a month in the lowest "speak-easy" rarely thinks of attempting to evade the federal revenue law; for conviction is so sure, and the penalties are so heavy, that it does not pay. in seeking to learn what lessons can be taught to old-world politicians from the new-world experiments, it must be borne in mind that, although the americans are mostly of one blood with ourselves, the conditions of their social and political life are yet very different. the liquor problem occupies a far more prominent place there than at home, and the saloon keeper is an influential force in state, union, and city politics. the temperance element is strong and active, and exercises a social influence not easy to estimate. a solid public sentiment has been created against even the moderate use of intoxicants; personal abstinence is advocated as part of the routine in nearly all the public elementary schools; it is regarded as disreputable for a man to frequent saloons; and, except under very extraordinary circumstances, no respectable woman would think of crossing their doorsteps. many employers of labour, especially railway companies, go so far as to insist that their hands shall be abstainers. but while the work of the teetotalers has been productive of much socially, their political work has been far more spasmodic, and less effective. they are split into cliques; and whatever proposal may be brought forward, there is almost certain to be a body of irreconcilables who fight against it. in america, as in other countries, the greatest opponents of temperance legislation are always temperance reformers: if a law is moderate, then it incurs the enmity of those who believe that any other plan than the utter and immediate destruction of the saloon is sin; if it satisfies the extremists, it is opposed by those who declare that such uncompromising legislation will produce a reaction, and so in the end do more harm than good. a still greater cause of weakness than even their internal divisions is the temporary character of much of their work. the respectable people of a city or state will rouse themselves to a fever-heat of emotion over some social reform, and will carry it into law with a rush. then the excitement will gradually die away, and in a shorter or a longer time the new law will be left to enforce itself; affairs will soon drop back into their old groove, until, possibly, some time after, a specially flagrant case of law-breaking again arouses the public conscience, and the same thing is gone through once more. the brewers and saloon keepers work differently. they are efficiently organised, and have behind them an almost unlimited supply of money and a considerable voting power. their work is not the unselfish advancement of some general benefit, but the protection of their own pecuniary interests. they have shown themselves willing to sink all partisan preferences in order to prevent their trade being extinguished, and they have attempted to save themselves by securing control of the political machinery. they have too largely succeeded. america, in spite of its unceasing boasts of liberty, is especially the land where the few dominate over the many. in industry, the rings and monopolies rule; in politics, the "bosses" are supreme. the people are allowed to retain in their hands all the paraphernalia of political authority; but in many parts they are ruled by autocratic political organisations, with saloon keepers and plunderers of the public at their head. it would not be just to pronounce the same sweeping condemnation on politicians in all parts of the union alike. in most country parts and in some cities the government is all that could be desired; and, usually, the more native-born americans and english and scottish settlers there are, the more free are the officials from corruption. but in many cities the administration is absolutely rotten: the courts dole out injustice, the municipal officers solely study their own interests, and obtain office for the one purpose of dishonestly acquiring public money; laws are enforced or set at defiance as may be most profitable; and perjury and plunder are the every-day business of mayors, aldermen, policemen, and justices alike. the plunderers are elected to office mainly by the saloon vote, a large proportion are or have been drink sellers themselves, and for these things the saloons are largely responsible. it is the realisation of this that has induced many men, by no means ardent abstainers, to advocate prohibition, not so much because it prevents intemperance, but because it breaks the power of the saloon in politics. the source of the power of the saloon lies mainly in three things: ( ) the absorption of respectable citizens in their private concerns, and their indifference to politics; ( ) the political machines; ( ) manhood suffrage. on the first cause but little need be said. in america the race for wealth is keener than anywhere else; the almighty dollar is worshipped, and most men are in a hurry to make their piles before the end of next week. a large proportion of the business men allow themselves time for nothing but money making, and those who have leisure regard politics as disreputable. in england our best citizens are glad to serve the commonwealth at their own cost; in america, a rich and cultured man would in many cities be looked upon by his friends as either a crank or a boodler if he announced his intention of adopting a political career. on the subject of manhood suffrage generally and its desirability or otherwise, i have no intention of entering in this place. but coming to the result of manhood suffrage on american politics, few can doubt that it has exercised in some ways a most evil effect. if all the citizens to whom the ballot has been given were intelligent and educated, and knew anything of the politics of the country which they are helping to rule, then suffrage would be robbed of much of its evil effects. but at present the peasant who has been picked from the wilds of connemara, the lazzaroni from naples and rome, the offscourings of the slums of the cities of central europe, are able to out-vote in many towns the genuine americans. they are brought under the influence of ambitious and unscrupulous political organisers almost as soon as they land at new york, and too often their ballot papers are cast solid for the maintenance of fraud, falsehood and robbery. the results of machine voting, the rule of the "bosses" and saloon politics can perhaps best be seen in one well-known instance. the city of new york, the metropolis of america, has actually been controlled for some years, not by its inhabitants, but by an ex-drink seller, richard croker, and his subordinates. this man was originally a young rough, in due course he developed into a saloon keeper, and after a time he resigned his bar for the more profitable employment of politician. he now holds no office under government, he has no ostensible means of earning a living; yet he is able to maintain a magnificent country mansion and a town palace; he owns as fine a team of trotting horses as most men in the state; and he is well known to be enormously wealthy. his horses are said to be worth seventy-four thousand dollars, and he owns a half interest in a stud farm valued at a quarter of a million. when he travels the railway companies provide specially luxuriant cars for his special accommodation, and he receives such homage and abject worship as exceed the subservience shown by the poorest-spirited courtiers to any petty princeling. over his long-distance telephone he controls local politicians and the state legislature, and he can wreck bills or bring them into law almost as he pleases. the secret of croker's power is the fact that he is the head of tammany hall, the most powerful political machine in the union. under this body, new york is mapped out into about eleven hundred electoral districts, each containing a few hundred voters, with a "captain," who is usually a saloon keeper, over each. it is the duty of the "captain" to get as many people as possible in his district to join tammany, and to vote on the tammany ticket; and woe to him if he lets the hall lose power there! he has innumerable methods of attracting voters to himself. any man who has a little local influence is instantly noticed, and has tempting visions of place and power held out before him if he will only consent to throw his lot in with the party. the tammanyite who is in trouble with the police knows that he can obtain the friendly services of the "captain" to speak a kind word for him to the justice; and it is wonderful how far these kind words go with the politically-appointed justices. the tammanyite who is out of work will naturally look to the "captain" to help him to something, whether it is a clerkship in the municipal offices, a street-sweepership, or a higher and better paid post. the "captain" may or may not be paid openly for his services; but he receives plenty of either direct or indirect emolument. if he is a saloon keeper, numbers of people naturally flock about his place, and deal of him. he is a man of weight, to be respected as such! no party organisation like this could be held together without powerful motive forces. to some of the tammany "captains" need not be denied purity and honesty of aims; but it is to be feared that such are in the minority. tammany as it is conducted to-day rests on bribery, swindling and corruption. those whom it can buy, and who are worth buying, it buys, whether they are senators or street-sweepers; those who are not to be bought, it often terrifies into passiveness. if a public-spirited citizen shows himself inclined to kick hard against his lawful rulers, and if he is a person who can be safely annoyed, then the municipality lets him feel the weight of its wrath. it does not use the old-time methods of casting him into prison, cutting off his head, or the like; for such crude expedients might attract an unpleasant amount of public attention. the recalcitrant citizen to-day has the assessment of his property for the purpose of taxation increased to perhaps double its former amount; city officials suddenly discover that his house transgresses some local ordinance, and order him to make costly structural alterations. if he is a saloon keeper the power of the "boss" over him is almost unlimited, and the unlucky wight can be hauled up before the justices almost every week, and fined or imprisoned continually. hence few saloon keepers dare to offend. there are a thousand and one ways in which tammany can punish its opponents. but if tammany is cruel to its foes, it can be very kind to its friends. the happy man who does it service finds money, place, and power waiting him. the saloon keeper can defy the sunday closing law with impunity, and the business man has his house assessed very moderately. the young fellow of talent who throws his lot in with the party knows that in due course (when he has earned his reward) he can be almost certain of a comfortable competence in a municipal or government post. tammany has no less than twenty-seven thousand rewards, in the shape of municipal offices, to distribute among its friends. on first hearing of these things it seems inexplicable to an englishman why the honest people of the american metropolis do not rise up and destroy such an institution. the reasons are manifold. it must be remembered that even tammany is not all bad. among those who blindly follow its ticket are many who believe that they show their patriotism by doing so. the "boss" is backed by a political party; he is a democrat, and many upright democrats think that this fact alone compels them to throw all their influence on the side of the man who carries their party colours. moreover any party of reform has to reckon with the thirty thousand votes of the city drink sellers and their men, which are cast solid for tammany so long as it helps them. without the saloon and its help, tammany would not keep together for twelve months; but with its influence on its side, it is no easy task to overcome it. to-day the churches are struggling, the newspapers are denouncing, leagues and societies are being formed against the common enemy; yet tammany still rules. last autumn a majority was elected to the state legislature against croker's party, and it was confidently expected that at last its power would be curtailed. by the peculiar system of controlling new york city, the state legislature has considerable power of interfering with its affairs. accordingly, this year measures have been brought forward that would have done great damage to croker's friends. but even this session sufficient senators have been found willing to break through their solemn electoral pledges, to vote against their own party, and to wreck bill after bill directed against the municipal ring. the tammany men openly proclaim that they can kill every other reform in the same way. no secret is made of the reason for the senators' change of face. it is openly said in conversation, and plainly printed in the papers, that they were bribed by croker's agents. it may be asked where croker and his men get the necessary money from to carry on their work. the answer lies in one word--blackmail! business men are politely requested to contribute to the funds of the hall, and if they refuse they are looked upon as enemies, and treated accordingly. every man who is allowed to break the law, whether he is a saloon keeper who keeps a side door open on sunday, the owner of a gambling hell, or a more respectable sinner, is expected to allow a solid cash consideration for the privilege. if any one or any corporation wants a favour of the local authorities, the only way of obtaining it is to grease the itching palms of the aldermen, and to make friends with the politicians. even those who want perfectly legitimate permits granted to them from the city can only get what they need by paying heavily for them. "all the laws good and bad," said mr. kelly of new york recently, "are so misexecuted by tammany as to give it a clutch upon business men and especially the liquor dealers.... the power of the ring seems to depend upon its power to play upon the hopes and fears of our citizens." the result of tammany rule on new york city has been indescribably bad. notorious law-breakers have been appointed to the most responsible posts, either because they had done some service to tammany, or because they were willing to pay the highest price for the appointments. justices have been put in office, not because of their learning or integrity, but because they are willing to twist the laws to suit tammany. even the electoral returns have been fraudulently altered to place the nominees of the hall in office. it is impossible in one short chapter to give any elaborate details of the extent to which corruption prevails in american cities; but enough has been said to show that the conditions under which temperance reformers have to work there are very different to those that prevail at home. the difficulties are greater, the means for enforcement are less effective, and the powers of lawlessness are more potent. chapter iii. forty years of prohibition. from the time of the earliest english settlers in america the drink traffic has been looked upon as a business requiring special regulation. the influence of puritan immigrants in the middle of the seventeenth century led to the framing of many severe liquor laws. ludlow's connecticut code in dealt with the subject on the basis that "while there is a need for houses of common entertainment ... yet because there are so many abuses of that lawful liberty ... there is also need of strict laws to regulate such an employment"; and it was enacted "that no drink seller should suffer any person to consume more than half a pint at a time, or to tipple more than half an hour at a stretch, or after nine o'clock at night". the first american prohibitory law was passed by the english parliament in , when "the importation of rum or brandies" in georgia was forbidden. this was done at the instance of james oglethorpe, then head of the colony, who declared that the excessive sickness there was solely due to the over-consumption of rum punch. while oglethorpe remained at savannah the law was strictly enforced, and all spirits found were destroyed; but after he left it was allowed to fall into abeyance, and in it was formally repealed by parliament. the modern legislative movement took its rise between and , when the whole of new england was convulsed by an uncompromising campaign against intemperance. almost the entire community seemed for a time carried away by the crusade against intoxicants. in nearly every place powerful temperance societies were formed; many gin merchants closed their distilleries, and saloon keepers put up their shutters and bade the people come and spill the contents of their rum barrels down the gutters. at first, teetotalers relied solely on moral suasion; but soon the more advanced section in massachusetts and maine demanded that the law should aid them by putting a stop to the legalised sale of drink. as early as a committee of the maine legislature on licensing laws reported that "the traffic (in strong drink) is attended with the most appalling evils to the community.... it is an unmitigated evil.... your committee are not only of opinion that the law giving the right to sell ardent spirits should be repealed, but that a law should be passed to _prohibit_ the traffic in them, except so far as the arts or the practice of medicine may be concerned." at that time the traffic in intoxicants in maine was considerable; but the saloon keepers were without any efficient organisation, and consequently could not offer any united opposition to the new movement. there were seven distilleries, and between three and four hundred rum shops in portland alone. according to the hon. woodbury davis, ex-judge of the supreme court of the united states, "nearly every tavern in country and in city had its bar; at almost every village and 'corner' was a grog shop, and in most places of that kind more than one.... men helplessly drunk in the streets and by the wayside was a common sight; and at elections and other public gatherings there were scenes of debauchery and riot enough to make one ashamed of his race." it is often stated that before the passing of prohibitory legislation maine was one of the poorest and most deeply indebted states in the union. this is true, but it is not the whole truth. maine had not long been separated from massachusetts, and its legislature, maybe partly intoxicated by its newly acquired powers, ventured on some expensive undertakings. a few costly public buildings were erected, and a premium of eight cents a bushel was offered to farmers on all wheat or corn over fifty bushels that they raised in a year. the consequence was that the heavy taxes proved altogether insufficient to meet the expenditure, and by early in the forties a state debt had been incurred, equal to three dollars a head of the population. money was very scarce, and both the local government and private individuals were glad to borrow wherever they could. but in spite of the scarcity of money, maine was not generally regarded as poor. it took the first place in the union as a shipbuilding state, and the second in the coasting and fishery trades. "the prosperity of maine," wrote a skilled financial observer in , "was never greater than at this moment.... she will become one of the first states of the union." ten years earlier, in his annual address to the legislature, the governor said: "it affords me great pleasure on this occasion to be able to speak of the prosperous condition of the state.... the state, as well as our citizens individually, are rich in lands, in timber, in granite and lime quarries, in water power for manufacturing purposes, and, to an equal extent at least, with any other state in the union, in all the essentials of profitable industry except monied capital." neal dow, the son of a rich quaker farmer, travelled from village to village in maine, urging the people to rise up against the legalised sale of the drink; and, largely in consequence of his agitation, a tentative prohibition act was passed in . the first act was a complete failure; it only dealt with ardent spirits, and did not provide adequate means for suppressing the traffic in them. five years later, mr. dow, then mayor of portland, framed a more comprehensive measure, and had it rushed through the state legislature in a couple of days. when the people understood what the new bill meant, its provisions excited a great deal of opposition. rioting took place in several towns, and was only put down by calling out the militia. in one of these riots a lad was killed, and this so strengthened the pro-liquor party that in the act was repealed; but it was re-carried the following year, and it has ever since been in force. a final step was taken in , when an amendment to the constitution was submitted to direct popular vote, providing that the sale of liquors be for ever prohibited. seventy thousand electors voted for it and only , against, so the alteration was made. the consequence of this is that the sale of drink can now only become legalised in maine by two-thirds of the electors voting directly for it. for many years the one aim of the temperance party has been to make the prohibition law as effective as possible, and to secure its enforcement throughout the state. wherever any clause in it has been found unworkable it has been quickly altered, and every possible legal device has been used to ensure the destruction of the drink traffic. the manufacture, sale, or keeping for sale of intoxicating liquors as a beverage is absolutely prohibited. any person illegally selling, attempting to sell or assisting to sell is liable, on a first conviction, to a fine of fifty dollars, and imprisonment for thirty days, and to increasing penalties for subsequent convictions, the maximum imprisonment being two years. it is considered sufficient to convict if a person pays the united states internal revenue liquor tax, issues a notice offering to sell, or delivers to another any liquor. liberal powers of search are given to the authorities, and all liquor found by them is destroyed by spilling on the ground. municipal officers are compelled to take action on having their attention drawn to any cases of supposed law breaking; and thirty taxpayers in any county can, on petition, obtain the appointment of special constables to secure the better enforcement of the law. the necessary sale of spirits for medical, mechanical and manufacturing purposes is made by specially nominated agents, who are supposed to obtain no profit by such sales, but to be paid a reasonable remuneration by the municipalities appointing them. in considering the working of this law, it must be remembered that maine presents almost as favourable a situation as could be asked in order to give prohibition a fair trial. it is isolated, and has no towns of any size. its citizens are mostly native born americans, farmers and fishermen, innately religious and law-abiding. the foreign element, which presents so disturbing a factor in many parts, is almost a negligable quantity here. in there was a population of , , of whom only , were foreigners. nearly three-quarters of the people were engaged in agriculture, about one-tenth were mariners, and another tenth found employment in connection with the trade in timber. apart from saw-mills, all the factories together did not employ above two or three thousand men. since then factories have greatly increased, and a number of french canadians and irish have settled in the state. but maine is still principally an agricultural district, and its largest city to-day contains less than forty thousand people. after a trial of forty years, has prohibition proved a success or a failure in maine? the answer to this question entirely depends on the point of view from which one looks at the subject. in so far as it has not entirely destroyed the drink traffic, prohibition is not a success; but it has succeeded in diminishing crime, pauperism and drunkenness, and in greatly in-creasing the wealth of the people. in , a few years after the law came into force, there were only eleven savings banks in the state, with depositors, and a total of deposits and accrued profits of about a million dollars. in there were fifty-five savings banks, with , depositors; and the hon. j. g. blaine estimated the aggregate deposits and accrued profits at , , dollars or more. pauperism has shown a steady decrease. from to , in spite of an increase in most of the neighbouring states, the number of recipients of official charity was diminished by · per cent.; from to , there was a further diminution of · per cent.; and from to , notwithstanding the fact that the increase for the whole of the states was per cent., there was still further reduction in maine of over per cent. in the number of paupers was , or only about one-sixth per cent, of the population. the significance of these figures is increased when it is remembered that maine is an old settled state, and in such the number of pensioners of public charity is usually far greater than in newly opened up districts. insanity, on the other hand, has spread during the last thirty years by leaps and bounds. from to the number of insane in the state increased by · per cent.; from to , the increase was · per cent.; and although the complete figures for the last decade are not yet published, there is every reason to believe that they will be no more favourable. at first this seems to show that there must be some mysterious connection between teetotalism and madness; but further investigation reveals the fact that this increase has not been confined to maine alone. in seven other north atlantic states, where liquor selling is permitted, the increase has been far greater: during the first period it was · per cent., and during the latter · per cent. the voluminous statistics on divorce supplied by the government bureau on labour[ ] do not tell conclusively either one way or another as to the influence of the law on married life; for divorce laws differ so greatly in various states as to make comparisons practically valueless. in maine there are abundant facilities for undoing the marriage tie; consequently, the number of divorces granted is decidedly over the average for the whole of the country: though in some states, where divorce is even easier than in maine, such as illinois, the proportion is far greater than there. crime is steadily on the decrease, and the average number of criminals in maine is lower than in any other state in the union. the number of convicts in the state prison is now less than in any time for twenty-seven years; in there were convicts; in , ; in , . the total number of commitments to the county gaols for all crimes (including offences against the drink laws) is also on the decrease, as is shown by the fact that in there were ; in , ; and in , commitments. the official returns of the value of property cannot be altogether relied upon; for it is a notorious fact that real estate is systematically under-estimated for the purpose of taxation. but while giving no accurate idea of the value of the holdings in the state, they do show that the material prosperity of maine has greatly increased. in the valuation of property was about a hundred million dollars; according to the annual report of the state board of assessors for the valuation was , , dollars. the census department estimated the true valuation of real estate in maine in at , , dollars. it is admitted on all sides that the prohibition law has not succeeded in entirely extirpating drinking, and liquor can still be obtained in most of the larger cities by those who seek for it. but the open bar has been almost everywhere swept away; and those who wish for liquor have either to order their supplies from other states or else go to work secretly to obtain them. the prohibitionists claim rightly that they have put the traffic outside the sanction of the law, and have made it "a sneaking fugitive, like counterfeiting--not dead, but disgraced, and so shorn of power". the returns of the department of internal revenue show that there are still a considerable number of drink sellers in maine. in there were retail dealers in liquors of all kinds, and retail dealers in malt liquors. during the fiscal year ending th june, , there were retail and wholesale liquor dealers, and retail and wholesale dealers in malt liquors. there were no brewers or rectifiers. it must be remembered that every person licensed under the maine law to sell drink for "medicinal, manufacturing, or mechanical purposes" is reckoned in the government returns as a liquor dealer; and that the individual who at any time sells a single glass of rum is at once made to pay the tax by the revenue officials, and tabulated by them as a licensed liquor dealer for that year. so although there are nominally retail dealers, it would be a mistake to suppose that there are saloons doing business in maine. considerably over half the total criminal convictions are connected with breaches of prohibition acts. the number of committals for liquor selling and drunkenness in was ; in , ; and in , .[ ] the divorce statistics also show that drunkenness has not been entirely suppressed; for in the twenty years ending in , divorces were granted for habitual intoxication, either alone or coupled with neglect to provide. yet, there has undoubtedly been an immense reduction in the consumption of drink. one who should be a most excellent authority on the question, the revenue superintendent of a portion of the north atlantic states, said early in : "i have become thoroughly acquainted with the state and the extent of liquor traffic in maine, and i have no hesitation in saying that the beer trade is not more than one per cent. of what i remember it to have been, and the trade in distilled liquors is not more than ten per cent. of what it was formerly". the latest available revenue returns show that the drink trade has been further reduced to about one-eighth of what it was at the time this was said. the same revenue returns give the most conclusive proof possible of the great reductions in the traffic. in , when prohibition was only very partly enforced, maine paid , , dollars in internal revenue, chiefly on drink and tobacco; in the amount paid was only , dollars, or less than two per cent. of its former amount.[ ] the drinking that now goes on may be divided into three classes,--( ) open violations of the law, ( ) secret drinking, and ( ) obtaining liquor from the authorised city agencies. the open violations prevail now to a very slight extent; but for a long time three or four cities, especially portland, lewiston and bangor, practically set the law at defiance. the authorities let it be understood that they would not take action, and juries refused to convict even on the clearest evidence. this was partly due to personal feeling, partly to political considerations, and chiefly to the fact that the rum sellers were strong enough to turn out of office either republicans or democrats, did they attempt to proceed against them. most of the drinking that goes on is done either secretly or through the licensed vendors. of the secret drinking it is not necessary to say much; for it no more proves the uselessness of prohibition than the existence of illicit stills in scotland and ireland proves the impracticableness of our licensing system. the selling by the city agencies is a far more serious matter. these places are supposed only to sell drink for the purposes allowed by law; but, as a matter of fact, they are often little better than saloons licensed to supply spirits to be consumed off the premises. people who are well known to require liquor solely as a beverage can obtain it with ease on simply stating that they want it as medicine or for trade purposes. judging from the amount of whisky sold as medicine in portland, a considerable proportion of the inhabitants of that place must be chronic invalids. yet in spite of its failings, the people of maine regard their law as a success, and mean to maintain it. as a correspondent, himself a state official, and in a good position to gauge public opinion on the question, recently wrote to me: "in the discharge of my official duties i frequently visit all the cities of maine, and in no parts of the country do i see fewer cases of intoxication than in maine cities and towns. in our country towns a rum shop or a drunken man can rarely be found, where formerly liquors were sold at every store. our people are prosperous, and an overwhelming majority of them are perfectly satisfied with our maine liquor laws." chapter iv. prohibition in kansas. all things considered, kansas is one of the most successful instances of state prohibition in the union. the conditions of life there are very different to those that prevail in maine, and the liquor law has had to be enforced under many disadvantageous conditions. kansas is a western state, nearly half as large again as england and wales, and with a population of less than a million and a half. like many other parts of the far west, it was for some time the refuge of disorderly elements of europe and the eastern states; and even now there is a very considerable "cowboy" class which makes the carrying out of restrictive legislation extra difficult. none of its cities contain over forty thousand people, and the number of foreigners in the state (excepting english families) is comparatively small. it has a large boundary line, and is bordered on three sides by states in which the drink traffic is legalised. in a prohibitory amendment to the constitution was proposed and carried by a very small majority; and the following year saw the passage through the legislature of a measure to give enforcement to the amendment. this was only done after a very fierce fight, and for a time the opposition was so strong that it was found practically impossible to give effect to the law in many parts. in the friends of prohibition were heavily defeated in the state elections, and it seemed as though the act would certainly be repealed. but there came a reaction in favour of temperance; and in place of repeal, the original statutes were in considerably strengthened. since then public feeling has been growing stronger yearly in favour of the perpetual ostracism of the liquor traffic. according to the law as it at present stands, the penalty for keeping a saloon is a fine of from one hundred to three hundred dollars and imprisonment from thirty to ninety days. if the person who obtains the liquor is intoxicated by it, then the seller will be held responsible for any harm he may do while in that state; and his wife, child, parent, guardian or employer may bring an action against the seller for injury done to them through being deprived of means of support, etc., and obtain exemplary damages. the chief difference between the kansas law and that of maine is that the sale of drink for purposes other than tippling is made through licensed druggists, instead of through city agencies. the regulations to prevent the druggists from selling drink for other than medical, manufacturing and mechanical purposes are very strict. no druggist can trade in alcohol without a permit; and he can then supply only on an affidavit of the customer, declaring the kind and quantity of liquor required, the purpose for which it is wanted, that it is not intended to be used as a beverage, and that the purchaser is over twenty-one years old. any person making a false affidavit for liquor is counted guilty of perjury, and is liable to imprisonment from six months to two years. the affidavits have to be made on properly printed and numbered forms, supplied by the county clerk, and have to be sent in once a month by the druggist to the probate judge, with a sworn declaration that such liquor as stated has been supplied in due accordance with the law. the druggist has also to keep a daily record, in a book open for inspection, of all drink sold. for breaking these regulations he is liable to a fine of from to dollars, and imprisonment from thirty to ninety days, besides losing his permit. there are still further checks and affidavits required, in the hope of making drug store tippling impossible. but these have by no means succeeded in their purpose. they have led to a considerable amount of perjury; and both druggists and customers have developed such elastic consciences that most of them will now swear affidavits to any extent required. in kansas the prohibition question has been made a partisan one. the amendment was carried irrespective of politics; but when the legislature had to frame the laws the republicans declared themselves strongly in favour of active enforcement; and, after the usual manner of politicians, the democrats took up the other side. up to a few months ago, to use the local parlance, "in the platform of the republican party there was always a stout prohibition plank," and the party never met without making a declaration in favour of thorough enforcement. every republican was a defender of the law; and it was repeatedly said that much of the drinking in cities was mainly due to the wilful slackness of the democrats who had control of them. but at the last state election there came a change. the republicans have for some time been supreme in the state, but recently there has arisen a new party, the populists, which has attracted great numbers of the farmers from the older political bodies. in kansas the populist movement is specially strong, and in the last election, by a combination of populists and democrats, a populist governor was elected, and the republicans driven from office. the present populist majority, while not so pronounced on prohibition as were the republicans, still expresses its firm intention of maintaining the law. the republicans now, somewhat disheartened by their defeat, are inclined to hedge on the question. their leaders declare that they will no longer bring forward a resolution in favour of enforcement at their conventions, but will instead state in their programme that "the republican party is, as it always has been, the party of law, and in favour of enforcing all laws on the statute book". they say they will do this because it is now wholly unnecessary to specially declare in favour of one law more than another; but there is no doubt that the real reason is the hope of being able to draw to their side a number of hesitating pro-liquor voters, and so win back their old position. one of the leading republicans of the state, the hon. john r. burton, frankly explained the state of affairs when he said: "it is high time the republican party of kansas quits its foolishness, and if it expects to succeed it must go before the people on strictly political issues. it is time to quit riding a hobby, and next year we must make up our platform without any relation to the isms." but while the party leaders, sore after their defeat at the polls, may talk like this, there is very little likelihood of their proposing or supporting any retrograde movement; for to do so would be to court certain disaster at the elections. the great body of the people are enthusiastically in favour of the law, and even many of those who grumble at it would join together to prevent the re-enactment of licence in the state. religious and temperance organisations abound, and are active in compelling the officials to resolutely enforce the law. prohibition is now fairly carried out in the whole of the state, with the exception of wichita, leavenworth, atchison, kansas city, and fort scott. in these places the law is almost a dead letter, and drink can easily be obtained, though the saloons do not openly advertise their business. yet, even after allowing for them, it cannot be denied that the law has led to a very considerable diminution in the consumption of liquor, and, with it, a decrease in the rowdyism which was once rampant. the number of persons paying the inland revenue tax has, it is true, increased within the last few years, but this is no test of the amount of the intoxicants used. the returns, prepared by the united states brewers themselves for trade purposes, of the number of barrels of beer consumed within the state in six recent years are as follows:-- , , , , , , the amount derived by the central government from inland revenue taxes has also shown a considerable decrease, though not nearly so great as the above. innumerable statistics have been brought forward by those favourable to the law, to prove that it has had a most beneficial effect on the social and moral condition of the people. but it is an open question how far the small amount of poverty in the state and the reduction of crime are due to prohibition. i have no wish to minimise the actual good accomplished by the law, but it can serve no useful end to claim for it benefits that are produced by other causes. kansas is a new settlement, and its surroundings and circumstances are such that we might naturally expect its people to be comparatively free from poverty and its allied evils. the problems that menace the older civilisation of the east, over-crowding, starvation wages, and lack of employment, are hardly felt there, and it is not fair to claim as the outcome of one law the results that are due to many causes. the greatest benefits of prohibition in kansas are of another kind, impossible to show by arrays of figures, but none the less real for that. the rising generation is free from those temptations which wreck so many of our own youth. the man who is a wilful drunkard can, no doubt, find out where to obtain liquor; but he who is weak rather than wicked does not have alcohol flaunted in his face wherever he goes. a strong public sentiment against excess is created; and those who are doing battle with the liquor traffic naturally find themselves opposed to the allied evils of gambling and impurity. hence, in the greater part of kansas, the social evil is kept under, gambling dens are unknown, and the whisky ring is banished from politics. one charge has repeatedly been brought against the law in this state--that it has checked the inflow of population. "the hour that ushered in prohibition," said the hon. david overmyer, democratic candidate for the governorship, in a speech at salina last december, "closed our gates to the hardy immigrant, the home-seeker, the strong and sturdy class that develops a country.... it has driven law-abiding and enterprising citizens from the state." statistics certainly show a decrease in the population within the last few years. there was a great inflow of immigrants from to , and from to there was a further increase of the population of from less than a million to over a million and a half. but from to there was a decrease of about ninety thousand, thus reducing the increase in the ten years to about per cent. since the number of inhabitants has probably been stationary. the decrease in recent years, however, has been due, not to any state law, but principally to the fact that great tracts of indian territory immediately below kansas have been opened up to white men, and there has been a rush to them. when the reduction is allowed for, kansas showed a greater increase in population from to than many of the principal western states in which drinking is licensed. chapter v. the law that failed. the commonplace truth that, under representative government, restrictive legislation can only succeed so far as it is backed up by the hearty support of the great majority of the people, has recently received a striking illustration in iowa. twelve years ago the people of this state voted, by a majority of , out of , votes, in favour of an amendment to the constitution making the sale of intoxicants for ever illegal. owing to some flaw in the method of taking the vote, the amendment was subsequently declared by the courts invalid; but in the state legislature carried, and for a long time the authorities in most parts have tried to enforce, what is probably the most drastic measure of prohibition known. everything possible has been done to make the conviction of liquor sellers sure; the law has been so drawn, even in the opinion of many in favour of restriction, as almost to refuse those suspected of trafficking in drink a fair trial; imprisonment, hard labour and disgrace have followed conviction; yet the one result of it all has been--failure! iowa is a thinly populated, somewhat newly settled state, almost in the centre of the union, with about , , inhabitants, of whom one-sixth are foreigners, chiefly germans. it must be remembered, in attempting to form any true estimate of the causes of the failure of the law, that iowa suffers from the usual weaknesses of youth, whether youth of nations or of individuals,--venturesomeness and fickleness. its people are excitable, inclined to experimentalise, and apt to rush to extremes. the spirit of respect for the law because it is law, so universal in england, is very little known there. if the law suits the people of a city or a county they will observe it; if not, then so much the worse for the law! in one town the inhabitants will be endowed with remarkable virtue: boys caught smoking will be liable to have the stick of the policeman across their backs; the sale of cigarettes, even to adults, will be forbidden; ballet dancers, if permitted at all, will be ordered to wear long skirts; saloons will be unknown; men as well as women found in houses of ill-fame will be summarily arrested and punished; and, in short, the municipality will devise sumptuary laws about almost everything belonging to the public and private life of the people. in the next town, possibly only a few miles off, the other extreme will prevail: gambling dens and saloons, although both illegal by the laws of the state, will be allowed to carry on their business unmolested by the police, on the payment of regular monthly fines; there will be a quarter of legalised ill-fame, as in any japanese city, and public women will be inspected and certificated as in paris. the people of iowa have not yet definitely made up their minds whether they shall make their state (by order of the legislature and with the approval of the governor) into a paradise on earth, or whether they shall permit one another to go to the bad, and shall make the road that way as smooth as possible. meanwhile they are experimenting both ways; and in course of time, when the disorderly elements have been controlled, and the effervescent stage of state life is passed, iowa will probably settle down to a great and glorious future. the prohibitory law here, as enacted in and revised in the following years, bears in its general regulations forbidding the sale of intoxicants as a beverage a family resemblance to those of maine and kansas already described. necessary sales for medicinal purposes are made through duly licensed chemists; but a chemist is not allowed to sell to any one unless the applicant is known personally to him, or bears a letter of recommendation from some reliable person of his acquaintance. the would-be purchaser has to fill up the following form:-- "i hereby make request for the purchase of the following intoxicating liquors (quantity and kind). my true name is ... i am not a minor, and i reside in ... township, in the county of ... state of ... the actual purpose for which this request is made is to obtain the liquor for (myself, wife, child, or name of the person it is intended for) for medicinal use, and neither myself nor the said (wife, child, etc.) habitually uses intoxicating liquors as a beverage." if the applicant is not known to the chemist, the following form has to be filled in by some other person:-- "i hereby certify that i am acquainted with ... the applicant for the purchase of the foregoing described liquors, and that said ... is not a minor, and is not in the habit of using intoxicating liquors as beverage, and is worthy of credit as to the truthfulness of statements in the foregoing request, and my residence is ..." at the end of each two months the chemist has to send in to the county auditor all application forms received by him, with a sworn statement attached, "that no liquors have been sold or dispensed under colour of my permit during said months, except as shown by the requests herewith returned, and that i have faithfully complied with the conditions of my oath". the penalties for selling liquor without a permit, or for keeping for the purpose of unlawful sale, are, for the first offence, dollars to dollars fine; for subsequent convictions, dollars to dollars fine, and imprisonment for not more than six months. but there is a more severe method of proceeding against offenders. an injunction may be obtained for the closing of any premises where liquors are unlawfully sold, on the plea of their being a nuisance. if they are again opened after this, the offender is liable to a fine of up to dollars, and imprisonment for six months or a year. courts and juries are required to so construe the law as to prevent any evasion, and even the general repute of a house may be brought as evidence against it. when the injunction method is used, there is no trial by jury, and thus a conviction can be secured in localities where public opinion is most opposed to the law. police officers are bound to inform on offenders, under pain of loss of office and heavy fines. drunken persons are liable to a month's imprisonment, unless they give information as to who supplied them with liquor; any one who buys liquor unlawfully can compel the seller to return him the money paid for it; and when a person gets drunk the seller can not only be compelled to pay all costs incurred by any one in attending to his customer, but is also liable to an action for civil damages from any relative or connection of the drunken man who is injured in person, property or means of support by such intoxication. it will be noticed that the law directs its penalties against the seller rather than the purchaser. the act was carried by a republican majority, and has been fiercely opposed by the democrats. at first the new provisions were observed in about eighty-five out of ninety-nine counties in the state, the parts refusing obedience being mostly those along the banks of the mississippi and most thickly populated. in these latter it was found impossible, in spite of the strictest provisions, to secure even an outward show of observance. rum-sellers, police, justices, and the newspapers all combined to ignore the law. temperance men sought to secure convictions, but in vain. when there seemed any likelihood of a specially active reformer making trouble, the saloon element did not hesitate to use force to put him down. the most notable case of this was that of dr. g. c. haddock, a warm prohibitionist, who lived at sioux city, where the law was ignored. he spoke and wrote, started prosecutions, and used every means in his power against the drink interest. one night, as he was returning home, he was surrounded in the open street by a crowd of roughs, and one man deliberately shot him in the face, killing him immediately. a prominent liquor man was arrested for the offence, and it is said that the evidence against him was overwhelming. nevertheless, the local authorities delayed bringing him to trial for as long as possible, and then he was acquitted. it was openly alleged that the jury had been specially selected to secure this result, and had been heavily bribed. yet, in spite of these serious drawbacks, the law at first had some measure of success. governor larrabee, in retiring from office in , referred at some length to the results obtained from it, in his message to the legislature. though his words cannot be said to be free from prejudice, they yet must carry weight as being the official verdict of the leading officer of the state. "the benefits which have resulted," he declared, "from the enforcement of this law are far-reaching indeed. it is a well-recognised fact that crime is on the increase in the united states, but iowa does not contribute to that increase. while the number of convicts in the country at large rose from in every of population in to in every in , the ratio in iowa at present is only in every . the gaols of many counties are now empty during a good portion of the year, and the number of convicts in our penitentiaries has been reduced from in march, , to on st july, . it is the testimony of the judges of our courts that criminal business has been reduced from to per cent., and that criminal expenses have diminished in like proportion. "there is a remarkable decrease in the business and fees of sheriffs and criminal lawyers, as well as in the number of requisitions and extradition warrants issued. we have less paupers and less tramps in the state in proportion to our population than ever before. breweries have been converted into oatmeal mills and canning factories, and are operated as such by their owners.... the poorer classes have better fare, better clothing, better schooling, and better houses.... it is safe to say that not one-tenth, and probably not one-twentieth, as much liquor is consumed in the state now as was five years ago." but even while governor larrabee wrote these words the knell of the new movement had been already sounded, and from the cause he advocated has been steadily losing ground in the state. his successor, governor boies, was notoriously opposed to prohibition, and threw the whole weight of his authority against efficient enforcement. he declared the suppression of the drink traffic to be an impossibility, and that to attempt it is "a cruel violation of one of the most valued of human rights". as though to make his own assertions come true, he pardoned by the wholesale persons convicted of unlawful selling. the result was what might be expected. in all communities where the authorities had been not over-warm about enforcement they now became slack, and everywhere the police said that it was useless to secure convictions merely for the governor to make out pardons. in more than one town and county where the trade had long been kept under, it now again made its appearance, and soon the last state of iowa was worse than the first. most of the teetotalers seemed to lose heart and do nothing; while for the few who were active the dynamiter's bomb, the incendiary's torch and the murderer's revolver were ready to silence them into submission. but all the blame must not be laid on governor boies. he could not have assumed the attitude he did had he not been supported by a large proportion of the people. his conduct was approved by the state in general, as may be seen by the fact that in he was re-elected for the governorship by a majority twice as large as that he had previously secured. iowa had tired of its anti-liquor crusade. the condition of affairs in many parts in was a disgrace to the whole state. at council bluffs, a town of slightly over , inhabitants, no attempt was made to secure enforcement, and about seventy saloons were wide open. the city had made regulations of its own to deal with this and similar evils. drink shops were allowed to do business undisturbed on paying the city treasury dollars cents a month; gambling hells were required to pay dollars a month; houses of ill-fame dollars cents a month, and the inmates of such places dollars cents each. in carroll, a town of inhabitants, a similar plan was adopted, and seventeen saloons and four wholesale dealers were allowed to go free on paying dollars each monthly, as a town licence. in the whole of carroll county the law was ignored. at des moines, with a population of , , the amount of drunkenness had been rapidly increasing ever since boies took office. in , out of total arrests, were for drunkenness; in , out of the number of drink cases was ; in , out of a total of were for drunkenness. in davenport, with inhabitants, largely germans, there were beer gardens and saloons running open week days and sundays, as free from concealment as though they were in the fatherland. the houses of ill-fame have been licensed here, confined to a certain quarter of the city, and their inmates inspected weekly and given certificates of health. the keepers of such houses are made to pay monthly fees of dollars, and the inmates dollars. a fee of dollars a year was required from saloon keepers, and those who refused to pay were subjected to all manner of annoyances from the municipality.[ ] it would be wearisome to go on further. hardly a town in the state, besides many country parts, but had abandoned prohibition, not for licence and control, but for a lawless free trade, tempered by the levying of municipal blackmail. it was manifest that this condition of affairs could not last; and the republican party, that had for many years remained steadfast to the cause, at last determined to abandon it. a purposely vague clause was chosen for the party platform in , stating that "prohibition is no test of republicanism. the general assembly has given to the state a prohibitory law as strong as any that has ever been enacted by any country. like any other criminal statute, its retention, modification, or repeal must be determined by the general assembly, elected by and in sympathy with the people; and to them is relegated the subject to take such action as they may deem just and best in the matter, maintaining the law in those portions of the state where it is now or can be made efficient, and giving the localities such methods of controlling and regulating the liquor traffic as will best serve the cause of temperance and morality." it was fully understood at this election that the republicans would now advocate some modification of the law, and on this understanding their candidate for governorship was returned to office by a large majority. the newly elected governor, the hon. f. d. jackson, dealt with the question at some length in his inaugural address. "a trial of ten years has demonstrated," he said, "that in many counties it (prohibition) has fully met the expectation of its friends, having successfully driven the saloon system out of existence in those counties. while this is true, there are other localities where open saloons have existed during this period of time in spite of the law, and in spite of the most determined efforts to close them. in such localities the open saloon exists without restraint or control, a constant menace to the peace and safety of the public. from these localities there is an earnest demand for relief--a demand not from the law-defying saloon sympathiser, but from the best business element--from the best moral sentiment of such communities--from the churches and from the pulpit. while the present prohibitive principle, which is so satisfactory to many counties and communities of our state, should remain in force, wisdom, justice and the interests of temperance and morality demand that a modification of this law should be made applicable to those communities where the saloon exists, to the end of reducing the evils of the liquor traffic to the minimum." a measure for the semi-legislation of saloons had been brought forward in . the malcontents did not ask for the total repeal of the law, but they demanded that, in localities where prohibition had notoriously failed, some other measures should be tried. at the end of march, , a "mulct-tax" bill was carried in the house of representatives, and sent on at once to the senate, where it was "railroaded" through without debate. early in april it received the sanction of the governor and became law. this measure is not a licensing law, and does not (nominally) license the saloon; but it provides that, on the payment by a saloon-keeper of a special tax, and on the observance of certain conditions, he shall not be liable to punishment for breaking the prohibitory law. this sounds somewhat strange to those of us who still retain old-fashioned opinions about the necessity for enforcing all laws or repealing them. clause of the "mulct" act is surely a curiosity among illogical compromises: "nothing in this act contained shall in any way be construed to mean that the business of the sale of intoxicating liquors is in any way legalised, nor is the same to be construed in any manner or form as a licence, nor shall the assessment or payment of any tax for the sale of liquors as aforesaid protect the wrong-doer from any penalties now provided by law, except that on conditions hereinafter provided certain penalties may be suspended". the tax required from liquor-sellers is dollars a year, besides a bond for dollars. if, in a town of inhabitants, a majority of the electors who voted at the last poll sign a written statement consenting to the establishment of saloons; or if, in a place with less than inhabitants, sixty-five per cent. of the electors sign a similar statement, then, in such places the fact that a liquor-seller has paid his tax shall be a bar to any proceedings under the prohibitory acts. each saloon is to consist of a single room, with only one exit and entrance, with the bar in plain view from the street, and with no chairs or furniture except such as are necessary for the attendants. the attendants must all be males, and no liquor is to be sold to minors, drunkards, persons who have taken "drink cures," or to any person "whose wife, husband, parent, child, brother, sister, guardian, ward over fourteen years of age, or employer shall by written notice forbid such sales". it is too early yet to say what the result of the "mulct" act will be. the latest news from iowa reports that the necessary proportion of signatures for the opening of saloons has been obtained in a number of moderate-sized towns, which were formerly thought to be favourably inclined to prohibition. in des moines signatures have been secured, and the drink-sellers boast that they can obtain one or two thousand more if required. it is yet a matter of doubt whether the saloon-keepers in several border towns will submit to the new law or will continue their old plan; but it seems certain, that for a large part of the state the days of even nominal prohibition are over. the state legislature has agreed to re-submit to popular vote the prohibitory amendment to the constitution; but this is done rather as a sop to the advocates of temperance than with the expectation that it will lead to any change. chapter vi. high licence. high licence in its present form is comparatively a new development of american drink legislation. during the early part of the latter half of this century reformers would hear of nothing but the most uncompromising prohibition. then came a reaction, and even the stoutest opponents of the liquor traffic were forced to admit that in towns of any size prohibition has never yet been a success. as a leading reformer put it: "prohibition has not yet touched the question where it presents the gravest difficulties, except to fail. after an existence of more than fifty years it has yet to grapple with this problem in any great centre of population. a law unenforced in its essential particulars debauches the public conscience." the question at last had to be faced--how, as men will have drink, the traffic in it can be conducted so as to do the least harm to the community. this led to high licence, a policy which includes the limiting the number of saloons, placing them under strict regulations, and fixing the licence fee at such a high rate as will keep all but responsible men out of the business. this plan would, it was hoped, meet the legitimate demand for drink, exterminate low saloons, and at the same time bring in a very considerable revenue, thus applying emerson's maxim, and "making the backs of our vices bear the burden of our taxes". as a general rule the high licence movement has been supported by the church and the roman catholic temperance societies, but has received bitter opposition from more extreme abstainers. "high licence is a fraud and a failure," said neal dow not long since; "and the greatest hindrance to the temperance movement in america is the church temperance society, which supports it." liquor-sellers look on it with mingled feelings. where there is a likelihood of prohibition becoming law they openly support high licence. thus the maine hotel keepers' association recently passed a resolution that "local option and high licence is the best means of dealing with the liquor question". but, where temperance sentiment is weak, the saloon-keepers not unnaturally do their best to maintain the old lax low-licence regulations. the new method first came to the front at nebraska in , by the passing there of the "slocumb law," which fixed the state licensing fees at dollars for saloons in small towns, and double that amount where the population exceeded , . from nebraska the idea spread rapidly, and was soon adopted by many other states. the most conspicuous instance of its working is to be found in pennsylvania, where the brooks licensing act passed through the legislature in , and came into force on st june, . the leading provisions of the brooks act are, that the granting of licences shall be left in the hands of the courts of quarter sessions, which shall issue whatever number they deem necessary, with full power to revoke any or all at the end of each twelve months; that each licensee shall pay a fee of from dollars downwards, according to the size of the town or city in which he carries on his trade; and, furthermore, besides his giving a personal bond for dollars, two owners of real estate living in the immediate neighbourhood shall also become bondsmen to the same amount each, as sureties for his strictly keeping the law. to these clauses are added the prohibitions, usual in most of the states, against selling on sundays or election days, or to minors or intoxicated persons. as an immediate result of the passing of the act, the number of licensed houses in philadelphia was reduced from to about , and in other parts of the state even greater reductions were made. the judges used their discretionary powers to a considerable extent, and for every successful applicant for a licence there were two others willing to find sureties and to pay the fees, but whose applications were refused. yet, notwithstanding the reduced number of saloons, the revenue showed a most decided increase. before the passing of the act the licensing fees in philadelphia came to , dollars; now, with less than a quarter of the former number of houses, they amounted to , dollars, and the whole state derived an annual drink revenue of close on , , dollars. it is worth noting in this connection that the total amount of criminal and charitable expenses in philadelphia alone caused through excessive drinking comes to over , , dollars annually. the law had an immediate and most remarkable effect on crime. the number of committals to philadelphia county prison for the twelve months before the passing of the act was , ; for the twelve months afterwards it was only , . the number of sunday arrests and committals for intoxication during the same two periods was--before, ; after, ; showing a reduction of about per cent. the number of women arrested sank to less than one-third, from to . these good results cannot, however, be solely attributed to the fact that the licence fees are heavy. "the real virtue of an act such as we have in this state," said a local journal in , "lies not in the high fee, but in the restrictions put upon the issuance of licences.... the fee is the least important feature of the brooks act." in philadelphia there is a strong public opinion to back up the act; and the police are, on the whole, active in searching for evasions. the great obstacles in the way of the total suppression of unlicensed houses lie in the two facts that juries are not always willing to convict, and that the courts have a way of letting the cases run on for an unconscionable time, until it is almost impossible to bring witnesses to secure proof of the offences. for instance, it was reported by the police department in november, , that since june in that year there had been arrests for unlawful sale, etc.; of these were returned to court; in cases were true bills found, only cases had been fully tried (out of which convictions were secured), and there were no less than cases awaiting trial, and more awaiting the action of the grand jury. since the first year, the licensing judges in philadelphia have gone in for increasing the number of saloons, and proportionately with the increase of liquor shops the total of arrests for intoxication has risen. there were , persons taken up by the police for intoxication and disorderly conduct the year before the passing of the act, while for the year afterwards there were only , . for the twelve months from june , , the number of saloons was increased to about , and the committals at once rose to over , . in the next licensing year the number of houses was again reduced, and once more the number of arrests showed a reduction, though not proportionately large. last year the judges decided to increase the number; and it is to be feared that if they do not stop this course the amount of drunkenness will soon be as great as it was before the passing of the act. thoughtful citizens are widely awake to the evils of this course, and great pressure has been brought to bear on the judges to abandon their present policy. in september, , the local law and order league sent a letter round to many of the leading inhabitants on this matter; and through the courtesy of its secretary i am able to reproduce parts of it here. "persistent efforts have been and are still being made," the committee stated, "to induce the court to increase the number of liquor licences.... we have reason to believe that a large number of applications have been and will be made in the interests of a few individuals who manage to evade the law, which does not allow an applicant to be interested in more than one licensed place--thus you will see that the greatest vigilance has to be exercised in dealing with this subject. "there were more licences granted from st june, , than for the previous year; and the number of arrests for intoxication in the last three months, ending st september, as compared with the same period of time in the previous year, shows the following result:-- year. no. of licences. no. of arrests. june to september " " --an increase of over the previous year." in some cities, the brooks law has, for a time at least, apparently led to an increase of the very evils it was framed to check. thus, in pittsburg the number of saloons was cut down from to , and finally to less than , yet the arrests for intoxication went up by per cent. but further investigation shows that this result has been brought about by the open, unchecked setting the act at defiance. "speak-easies" (that is, unlicensed saloons) have been allowed to spring up in such numbers that five years ago there were probably seven to each licensed house. these places were permitted to exist because of the political power of their owners, and the police did not dare proceed against them. the agent of the local law and order league opened prosecutions against about such houses in a couple of years; but in nearly every instance the juries refused to convict. it has been openly stated time after time that both the police and juries are under the control of the liquor ring, though just now there is admittedly a great improvement in this respect. at ordinary times the "speak-easies" are conducted with at least a show of secrecy, getting their liquor in at night, and thinly disguising themselves as cigar shops, drug stores, or eating houses; but during elections they sometimes throw off even the appearance of concealment, knowing that no one will venture to attack them. at the election of january, , the local _commercial gazette_ reported: "on sunday not a few of the select seven hundred were running wide open. they were not 'speak-easies,' but 'yell-louds,' as they disturbed their neighbourhoods with their hideous conduct. what inducements have regularly-licensed saloons to observe the law and renew their licences in the spring if saloons that pay no licence are permitted to sell not only throughout the week but on sundays, when of all days they should be kept shut? the 'speak-easies' have, or imagine they have, a 'pull' on the political parties, that they thus dare to impudently disregard the law." a partial failure of the act has been caused in other places besides pittsburg by the presence of such houses; and even where the police do their utmost it is no easy matter to exterminate them. the chief of police in lancaster county reported in that there was a considerable amount of drunkenness among women and young people; and that the drink was obtained, not in licensed houses, "but in hell-holes known as beer-clubs, or in houses where beer is delivered in quantities". from other parts come similar reports. unquestionably, high licence, when properly enforced, is a check to intemperance; with an unbiassed executive, an uncorrupted police and a law-abiding community, it does much to rob the liquor traffic of many of its evils. but, unfortunately, these conditions are not to be found in many american cities. all who have studied the working of the law admit that the mere fact that a licence fee is high is not enough in itself; this must go along, as it does in most places, with a large measure of local control and with wise restrictive legislation. the great fault of the high-licence plan is that it leaves the saloon almost as great a power in politics as ever. but how this is to be prevented, short of sweeping the drink-sellers away altogether, does not appear. part ii. greater britain. chapter i. prohibition and local option in canada. while great britain has been content, for many years, to do little more than talk about proposed temperance legislation, greater britain has been active in framing laws, testing them by actual practice, and revising, strengthening or abandoning them as the results have shown to be advisable. our colonial cousins, free from the prejudices and cast-iron traditions of english political life, have displayed far more willingness to adopt strong remedies for a grave disease than have we ourselves at home. in canada the drink question has been, for over a quarter of a century, one of the most pressing problems in dominion politics; and the results of efforts made to solve it there should prove of real value to law-makers on both sides of the atlantic. compared with england, canada is decidedly a sober country. in some parts total abstinence is the rule rather than the exception; the average consumption of liquor is comparatively small; and the liquor traffic has been for years under strict regulation. though the licensing laws differ in the various provinces, they are everywhere much in advance of our own. sunday closing is universal, no drink can be sold on election days, and in most districts the taverns have to be shut up on saturdays at six or seven in the evening. high licence prevails in many of the cities, the penalties for serving minors or drunken persons are very heavy, and a limited form of local option gives communities power to sweep away almost all of the drink shops in their borders. the result of these measures may be seen in the fact that while in england the annual consumption of drink is thirty-four gallons per head, in canada it is only four. early in the seventies, the temperance party started an agitation to obtain out-and-out prohibition. petitions poured in on parliament, and such pressure was brought to bear on individual members that the dominion government finally decided to introduce an act which would give the people in every city and county the right to interdict the traffic there. the framing of the measure was left in the hands of the hon. robert scott, a well-known lawyer and a member of the government, and he drew up a bill which seemed at the time as stringent and as workable as possible. the "scott act," as it was at once universally called, provided that on one-quarter of the electors of any city or town petitioning the governor-general, he should cause a direct vote to be taken as to whether the place was to come under the act or not. a bare majority would decide either way; and once the election was held, the question could not be re-opened for three years. at the end of three years, the defeated party might demand another poll. if the people decided to come under the act, all licences in their district would lapse at the end of the year, without any compensation being paid to the licence holders, and then the ordinary manufacture or sale of intoxicating liquors as a beverage would be absolutely prohibited. the penalties provided for attempting to evade the law were-- dollars for the first offence, dollars for the second, and not more than two months' imprisonment for each subsequent conviction. everything was done to make the recovery of the penalties as simple as possible; there was no power of appeal, and, while it was the special duty of the collectors of inland revenue to see that the law was enforced, any private individual had the power to institute a prosecution. the scott act was received with almost universal approbation; macdonald and mackenzie, the two leading canadian statesmen, supported it; and in may, , it was read for a second time in the dominion house of commons without a division. it received the royal assent the same month, and became law. within the next seven years it was submitted to seventy-seven electoral districts, and was accepted by sixty-one. the majorities for it were usually overwhelmingly large. in york, electors voted for the act, and only against; in prince the figures stood, for, against; and in many other places the proportion was about the same. but the hot enthusiasm for prohibition did not last very long. communities that had voted to go under the act became first lukewarm and then hostile; and soon a repeal movement set in, almost as strong as the demand for prohibition that had preceded it. the revenue returns showed, it is true, a most decided diminution in the consumption of liquor. comparing the statistics for the ten years ending with those for the ten ending in , the _per capita_ reduction was per cent. in spirits, per cent. in beer, and per cent. in wine. but this apparent reduction was almost altogether neutralised by the great increase in smuggling. the coast line of the seaboard provinces is so extensive that even the utmost vigilance of the revenue authorities cannot altogether put this down. the extent to which it prevailed may be shown by the estimate of lieutenant-colonel forsythe, chief of the police at quebec, that in a single year barrels of liquor were landed by smugglers at one place, st. pierre miquelon.[ ] what was the cause of this change of sentiment? perhaps the principal reason was an unfortunate dispute which arose between the dominion and the provincial authorities as to whether the right to pass laws dealing with the drink traffic lay with the former or the latter. the provincial authorities declared that the central parliament was exceeding its powers in passing such a measure, and the point was fought out before the courts. after various decisions by the lower courts, the judicial committee of the privy council declared, in june, , that the scott act was constitutional. then the provincial and local authorities practically refused to take steps to ensure the active enforcement of the act. they said that as it was a dominion, and not a provincial measure, the dominion parliament must see to it. political issues became mixed up with the question of enforcement, and in many parts law-breakers well understood that the local authorities would take no active steps to bring them to justice, if they could avoid doing so. senator scott, the framer of the law, himself admits that this is the true explanation. in a recent interview he said: "the provisions for enforcing the law were full and complete. but there is no act in the statute books that was more bitterly opposed; some of the judges in the maritime provinces even refused to give effect to it. the law was fought out in every court in the land; and until the judicial committee of the privy council sustained it, the attempt at enforcement was hopeless. neither governments nor courts regarded it with favour. the onus of enforcing the law was cast upon the federal government, yet that government could not be charged with showing any disposition to enforce the law.... the temperance element in very many localities either condemned the omission of the executive to put the law into operation, or became indifferent on the subject. wherever there was a strong temperance sentiment, as in many counties in the maritime provinces, the law was enforced by the people, and it has borne good fruit."[ ] the case of ontario, which has excited special interest in england, may be taken as in many respects a typical one. the temperance party is very strong here, and the act was adopted in and by about two-thirds of the province. a vigorous attempt was made to enforce it, and at first with some show of success. the consumption of liquor was for a time diminished, the saloons put up their shutters or sold only temperance drinks, and illegal traders were quickly brought to book. mr. w. j. thomas, a toronto brewer, has given the following as the experience of his firm with the scott act: "i found my output to decrease during the scott act years, and to change in character. it was sneaked into scott act towns by night, and in all sorts of boxes, barrels, and other packages. there was also a large increase in the bottle trade, as well as more bought for private families." but soon trouble came. legal authorities raised difficulties in the way of maintaining the law, and convictions were often quashed on appeal on the slightest grounds. the pro-liquor party showed fight, and persons who attempted to give evidence against drink-sellers would have their windows broken, would suffer personal violence, and would be publicly denounced as "sneaks" and "spies". a system of intimidation was organised, magistrates who convicted were openly insulted and threatened, notable temperance workers had their houses blown up or their ricks fired, and informers went in danger of their lives. after a time, moreover, the commitments for drunkenness showed a considerable increase; in , they were : in , when the act was in force, they had mounted to ; and in , after the repeal of the act, they were only . this increase of drunkenness under prohibition was probably due to the fact that people became addicted to whisky, owing to its being portable, rather than beer, which they could not so easily smuggle or hide. the story of a publican, given before the royal commission, is of interest, as showing how drink-sellers evaded the law. "i had two years' experience of the scott act at port huron, a town of inhabitants," said mr. j. c. miller. "i complied with the scott act at my hotel there for three months, but the receipts would not justify perpetuity. on the th july i made a drink called 'conundrum drink,' composed of water, lemons and whisky. this was supplemented by lager, called for the day 'blue ribbon beer'. the temperance men sent up two detectives from kincardine, who were low characters, and would swear to anything. when they came to give evidence, i gave them forty dollars to clear me, and they did so. "dr. mcleod (a commissioner).--you paid them the money to perjure themselves? "mr. miller.--well, i gave them forty dollars, and do not know whether they got liquor in my place or not. they were prepared to swear that they did, and they swore that they didn't. i then tried the experiment of keeping the liquor to give away, and it was entirely successful. then i sold cider, and gave the liquor away. that was also successful; and after the temperance men sought several times to secure a conviction without success, they let me alone, and i sold freely until the act was repealed." it must not be supposed that the temperance people were passive spectators of these attempts to defy the law. on the contrary, they were active in prosecuting. the number of prosecutions for breaches of the law in the six months ending in july, , was ; for the six months ending in october, , the number of prosecutions was . the number of convictions in the first period was , and in the second period . the electors of ontario had enough of the law, and at the earliest possible opportunity the act was repealed in every county in the province. mr. f. s. spence, the secretary of the dominion alliance, gave the following as the reasons why (in the opinion of prohibitionists) the law was repealed:-- "( ) because the people were disappointed in finding that it did not give them a fuller measure of prohibition. "( ) because of the hard feeling engendered among neighbours by the forcing of evidence. "( ) because of the annoyance caused by the hotel-keepers closing their houses, and of the terrorism practised. "( ) because of the inefficiency of the machinery for the enforcing of the act. "( ) because the vote for repeal was often brought on prematurely during a time of local irritation over the effects of the act. "( ) because of antagonistic personal influence." the temperance party did not take its defeat quietly. it maintained that the failure was due, not to any mistake in the principle of prohibition, but to erroneous legislation and weakness of administration; and a fresh agitation was soon started for a more perfect measure. but for some time action was delayed. the great stumbling-block in the way of the authorities doing anything is the doubt whether the right to legislate lies with the federal or the provincial authorities. the decision of the privy council in , while settling the legality of the scott act, by no means made clear the exact line of demarcation between the powers of the greater and lesser legislatures on this matter. in order to settle this, the ontario government has submitted to the supreme court a constitutional case which will clear up the matter. as soon as this is decided there, it will be taken on to the privy council, and it is expected that by early next year the matter may be finally settled. this doubt has given dominion politicians a very good excuse for doing nothing. "when we get a prohibition law in ontario," said sir oliver mowatt, the ontario premier, in answer to a deputation ( th april, ), "we will want one that is enforced. there is no use in a nominal prohibition, no use in putting a prohibition law on the statute book, unless we can, and do, enforce it. you all know that a prohibition law is difficult of enforcement, as there are too many people interested in its not being enforced. if a law is not enforced to any extent, it is a thousand times worse than if there was no such law on the statute book. any prohibition law under the present condition of public sentiment is difficult of enforcement; and if there were any reasonable doubt as to whether that law is valid or not, it would be hopeless to attempt to enforce it. we may be sorry for that, and unwilling to believe it; but if we endeavour to enforce in this country a prohibition law, when there is not a reasonable certainty of its being valid, it will be a hopeless task." year by year, since their defeats in and , the prohibitionists have been gaining greater political power, and they now command so many votes that neither party can afford to ignore them. in order to make a show of satisfying their demand, and at the same time, perhaps, to shelve the question for a year or two, the dominion government appointed, in , a royal commission to inquire into the whole subject. since then the commissioners have been moving from place to place, collecting a considerable amount of useful, and a still larger quantity of irrelevant and next to valueless information. the commission has given a great many no doubt worthy persons the opportunity of airing in public their individual opinions on the folly or wisdom of total abstinence, on the exact number of ounces of alcohol it is wise to consume in a day, and on other equally absorbing themes. but if the commissioners print _verbatim_ all the evidence that has been tendered before them, their report will almost rival in bulk the holy books of the buddhists, or the report of the sweating commission. in and , in order to accurately ascertain the real opinion of the people on the liquor question, the greater number of the provincial governments took plébiscites on prohibition. the plan was adopted from the well-known swiss referendum; but with the great difference that, whereas in switzerland a sufficient majority obtained by the direct vote alters the law, the plébiscites in canada have no legislative effect whatever, but are purely expressions of opinion, taken as test of the popular will. at first the extreme left wing of the temperance party looked with some disfavour on them, and declared that they were nothing but pretexts to delay legislation. a plébiscite was first taken in manitoba, on the same day as the general election, at the end of . two-thirds of this province are said to be already under prohibition, by means of local option laws, and out of the forty members of the legislature twenty-two are reputed total abstainers. the vote was taken on the single question: "do you think the prohibition of the manufacture and sale of intoxicating liquor desirable? yes or no." the number of votes recorded was fairly large, being only a little over five per cent, less than that cast for the candidates for the legislature. the result was a complete victory for the prohibitionists. even winnipeg, the largest city, which was reckoned a very doubtful place, gave a majority of for prohibition. the result in the whole province was:-- total votes for candidates, , total votes on prohibition, , for prohibition, , against prohibition, , majority for prohibition, , the provincial assembly has since requested the dominion parliament to give effect to the popular vote by legislative enactment. in prince edward island a plébiscite has shown a majority of in favour of prohibition; and in nova scotia, where a poll has just been taken, the result has been a majority of , for prohibition. but the most surprising result of all has come from ontario. it was generally anticipated by those not on the spot that this province, with its former unfortunate experience, would hardly again support a proposal for the suppression of the drink traffic. a vote was taken on new year's day, ; and all persons having votes at municipal elections, and all unmarried women and widows who exercise the franchise, were allowed to take part. no elector had more than one vote. the question submitted was: "are you in favour of the immediate prohibition by law of the importation, manufacture and sale of intoxicating liquors as a beverage?" the temperance party made great preparations for the election. innumerable meetings were held, committees of ladies canvassed the voters, ministers urged on their congregations the duty of rightly using their electoral powers, and all that was possible to ensure success was done. the teetotalers in ontario undoubtedly anticipated a victory, but even the most sanguine among them had hardly dared to anticipate such a majority as was obtained. , voted for prohibition, , against, leaving a majority in favour of , votes. the most discouraging thing about the plébiscite is the fact that only about per cent. of the electors in the province took the trouble to record their votes. the women constituted per cent. of the total electors, and while the ballot forms for the men were printed on yellow paper, those for women were on blue, in order that it might be ascertained how they voted. it was found that the women were six to one for prohibition. so if the votes of the women had been taken away, the majority in favour would have been reduced to a few thousands. but after allowing for these things, the victory was unquestionably a notable one. the chief strength of the liquor party lay, as usual, among the foreign portion of the community, and those towns in which the germans predominated declared by large majorities against prohibition. in toronto the prohibitionists obtained a majority, but so many electors abstained from voting as to make this apparent victory little better than a defeat. but many places that had been confidently expected to declare for licence decided the other way. even several districts that a few years ago almost unanimously repealed the scott act, had come round again in favour of prohibition. the temperance party in ontario is now somewhat divided. there is a noisy, if not very influential section, that is in favour of the provincial legislature at once passing a provincial prohibitory law, taking for granted that the privy council will decide in favour of the state right to do so. happily, this section is in a minority, for no course could be more harmful to the temperance cause. if a provincial prohibitory law were passed now, magistrates would fear to enforce it fully until they knew whether it was really legal or not; cases of conviction would be the subject of unceasing appeals from court to court; and every cause that made the scott act a failure would, in an accentuated degree, prevent the efficient carrying out of the new law. many members of the temperance party recognise this, and have determined to work for prohibition under the local option laws, and for the creation of a still stronger public sentiment against drinking, until the decision of the courts is known. then, if it is found that the province has the right to prohibit, a prohibition bill will be introduced. the government has adopted this latter plan, and the premier, sir oliver mowatt, has given the following pledge for himself and his colleagues: "if the decision of the privy council should be that the province has the jurisdiction to pass a prohibitory liquor law as to sale, i will introduce such a bill in the following session, if i am then at the head of the government. if the decision of the privy council is that the province has jurisdiction only to pass a partial prohibitory liquor law, i will introduce such a prohibitory bill as the decision will warrant, unless the partial prohibitory power is so limited as to be ineffective from a temperance standpoint." prohibitionists in ontario will only do themselves harm if they imagine that the battle for the suppression of the liquor traffic there is already won, or will be won on the passing of a suitable act. on the contrary, it is certain that any prohibitory bill, when passed, will meet with the greatest opposition from a considerable portion of the community. innumerable efforts will be put forth to make it a dead letter, or to break it down in any way whatever. there is a large and controlling section of electors on whom the continuance of the law depends. it is now willing to give prohibition a trial, and if it is anything like a success it will maintain it. but, if it should prove unworkable or unsuccessful, then the great body of the people will soon send it on the same road as the scott act. so far as plébiscites have been taken throughout the dominion, they have been in every province in favour of prohibition. there are three provinces in which there has been no voting,--new brunswick, british columbia, and quebec. the last named is admitted to be, on account of the large proportion of settlers of french descent in its borders, the province least friendly to the suppression of the traffic; but the other two are generally regarded as strongholds of temperance. the opinion of new brunswick may be seen by the following resolution passed by its legislative assembly on the th april, : "whereas, in the opinion of this legislative assembly, the enactment of a prohibitory liquor law would conduce to the general benefit of the people of the province, and meet with the approval of a majority of the electorate; and whereas legislative power in respect of the enactment of such law rests in the parliament of canada; therefore, resolved that this assembly hereby expresses its desire that the parliament of canada shall, with all convenient speed, enact a law prohibiting the importation, manufacture, and sale of intoxicating liquors as a beverage, into or from the dominion of canada." many demands have been made that the dominion parliament, under the powers it was declared to possess by the privy council decision of , shall immediately enact a dominion prohibitory law. this, however, it refuses to do; and sir john thompson, the dominion premier, recently stated he can do nothing this session, owing to the tariff reductions; and he does not think it would be a proper course to announce a policy until after the report of the royal commission on the question has been presented. chapter ii. local control in new zealand. in no british colony is the temperance sentiment stronger, or is there more likelihood of the agitation for prohibition being brought to a successful issue, than in new zealand. its statesmen have shown during the last few years great political venturesomeness; the parliamentary suffrage has been given to women; social, it may be said socialistic, legislation of a most pronounced character has been encouraged, and the dreams of english radicals have turned to blossom and fruit under the southern cross. the danger at present seems to be, not that the changes will be too slow, but that politicians, eager to anticipate the public wishes, may adopt and carry advanced legislation for which the colony is not prepared. this danger has been greatly increased since the passing of female suffrage. whatever merits women may have as politicians, moderation is not one of them; and in the last election they plainly showed that they intend to select for power the men of most outspoken views and extreme policy. new zealand is a country of to-day, and knows but little of the social difficulties that are taxing all the energies of politicians in lands with a longer history. the rougher and poorer emigrants have mostly chosen the other australian colonies in preference to it, and it is peopled to-day by a picked body of prosperous englishmen and scotchmen. as regards the consumption of liquor, it takes almost the lowest place among those lands that fly the union jack. the average expenditure per head comes to only a little over three pounds a year, and the amount of proof spirits consumed per head in the same time is a little over two gallons, or only about half of the quantity drunk in england. the prohibitionist party is very strong in the colony, and is led by sir robert stout, the liberal ex-premier. the prohibitionists do not attempt just now to secure a measure forbidding the sale of liquor throughout the colony, for they regard that as at present impracticable. their demands for the time are local option of prohibition by a simple majority, and no compensation. this latter point they have secured; and the question of pecuniary compensation to dispossessed publicans is no longer within the range of practical politics in new zealand. in a licensed victuallers' compensation bill was brought before the house of representatives; but it aroused such general opposition that its proposers did not venture to ask for a division on it. the tendency of legislation has been for some years steadily in the direction of giving increased direct power of control to the people. for some time the supervision of the drink trade was left in the hands of the various provincial councils, but in sir william fox, then premier, carried a measure through parliament which granted to two-thirds of the adult residents in any neighbourhood the right of preventing the issue of new licences there, on notifying their desire in that respect by signing a petition. eight years later, a new act repealed this veto law, and provided a more complicated machinery for dealing with the question. according to this, a licensing board was chosen annually by the electors in each district, and once in every three years the ratepayers voted on the question whether any licences should be issued in their neighbourhood. if they decided in the negative, the board had to abide by their decision; but should they wish for an increase, the matter was then brought before the board, though this body was by no means obliged to grant new licences, even when the popular vote had given it power to do so. in many ways this act proved a practicable, workable measure. the inland revenue returns showed each year, from the passing of the act up to , a steady diminution in the consumption of drink, amounting altogether in the seven years to twenty-five per cent.; and though this reduction has not been quite maintained during subsequent years, the trade is still considerably less than it formerly was. the act stopped the increase of public-houses, though very few of the old hotels were deprived of their licences under it. out of licensed houses in the colony, only twenty-five were closed under the act during the first seven years. since that time the advanced temperance party showed considerably more activity in this direction, and succeeded in obtaining a withdrawal of most of the licences in more than one district. but a doubtful legal point cropped up, as to how far local boards have the power to take away old licences, that prevented very much being done. in a certain licensing district the temperance party aroused itself and succeeded in electing a board pledged to close the hotels. the board kept its promise, and thereupon the liquor-sellers brought a case before the courts, on the grounds that the members of the board had publicly pledged themselves as to their line of action before election, and therefore they were biassed and did not deal with the licences in a judicial manner. the court upheld the publicans and declared that the deprival of the licences was illegal. this decision, of course, practically took from the electors the greater part of their local control. another point in which the system proved unsatisfactory was in the supervision of licensed houses. there seems to be a general opinion among moderate men that the boards were not nearly strict enough in bringing offending licence-holders to book. the act of was not sufficiently drastic to satisfy the temperance party; and last year mr. seddon, the liberal premier, brought before the legislature and carried a liquor law which he said would meet with the approval of all parties. the measure is called "an act to give the people greater control over the granting and refusing of licences". the licensing authority is still left in the hands of locally elected bodies: though no member of any such body can be disqualified from sitting or acting because he has at any time expressed his views or given any pledge as to the liquor traffic. the whole of the colony is now divided into sixty districts, and each of these has its own board, consisting of the resident magistrate, and eight other residents in the district. any elector living in a district shall be qualified to become a candidate for election to the board there, unless he is a paid colonial or local official, or is directly or indirectly pecuniarily interested in the liquor traffic. when, once in three years, the licensing committee is elected, each voter has submitted to him at the same time three alternatives: and he must scratch out two of these, thus voting for the one he leaves untouched, or his paper will be void. the three choices are:-- ( ) i vote that the number of publicans' licences continue as at present. ( ) i vote that the number of publicans' licences be reduced. ( ) i vote that no publicans' licences be granted. no vote for a committee-man will be counted unless the elector also chooses one of these things at the same time as he votes for the members of the committee. on the result of the direct vote the committee must act. no election is valid unless at least one-half of the voters on the register take part in it. an absolute majority of the votes recorded in any district carries either of the first two propositions, for no alteration or for reduction; but the proposal for no licences at all can only be carried on a majority of three-fifths of those voting deciding in favour of it. if the votes for no licence are under three-fifths, they are added to those for reduction, and counted as part of such. where the proposal for reduction is successful, the committee shall carry out such reduction as it may think fit, provided that it does not exceed one-quarter of the total number of public-houses. such licences as have been endorsed for breaches of the law since the passing of the act are first to be taken away, and then those held in respect of premises which provide little or no accommodation for travellers beyond the bar. the temperance party is seriously dissatisfied with this measure. "this bill, i believe," said sir robert stout in the house of representatives, "is a bill more in favour of the liquor traffic than if i had met the licensed victuallers' association, and asked them to come to some compromise. i believe the association would have given a more reasonable bill to the temperance party than this measure. that is my opinion, and i believe i am speaking what is correct, from what i have heard." the chief objections of the local optionists are to the clauses that provide for a three-fifths majority for prohibition, and for a per cent. poll before an election is valid; they also say that the licensing areas are too large, and that the act practically gives the publicans three years' licences. at the parliamentary elections that took place since the measure was passed, the question of a bare majority sufficing to carry the proposal for no licences has been made a test one everywhere; and the teetotalers, aided by the women's vote, have carried their point in so many places that there seems every prospect of the law being altered in this respect almost immediately. the first licensing election under the new act took place at the end of march, . a fresh and somewhat disturbing factor was introduced in it by the voting power of the newly enfranchised women. the women were (as they had been in the parliamentary elections) by an overwhelming majority in favour of either no licences or reduction, usually the former. sometimes they allowed their zeal to slightly outrun the bounds of womanliness. thus, at one meeting at christchurch, called by the leading clergy for the consideration of the question, they took possession of the hall, voted down the proposals for reduction, and refused to listen to the speakers. the chairman would not allow them to put their amendment for no licence, so they would not let the meeting continue. they were as rowdy (if reports in various local papers can be trusted) as an excited meeting at a fiercely contested election in england. finally they determined to there and then convert one of their leading opponents. "pastor birch," reports the _christchurch weekly press_, "says that when he came out of a meeting the ladies were hatching a conspiracy against him. they intended, when he left the meeting, to surround him in the middle of the road. a compact ring of female enthusiasts was to be formed round him, and, when they had him fairly wedged in, they intended to kneel down and pray for him. the worthy pastor, it appears, declined this delicate attention, but was at a loss how to escape. ultimately, i believe, he hit on the device of leaving the hall supported on one side by his lordship the bishop, and on the other by father bell. this saved him, the women found it impossible to surround pastor birch without including his companions, and so let him escape." full reports of the results have not yet reached england, but sufficient is known to make it certain that the temperance party has gained a great victory. had it not been for the three-fifths clause, the greater part of the country would have gone under prohibition. at the time the last mail left new zealand, the results were known in twenty-six out of the sixty licensing divisions; and the total votes there showed that , were for prohibition, for reduction, and , for no alteration. at wellington, where the contest excited great interest, and was looked upon as a fair test for the whole colony, the results were: for prohibition , for reduction , for no alteration . in only one place was the necessary majority obtained for no licences, and in another place the people have decided for no bottle licences. there were quite a number of districts where the prohibitionists were only a few dozen short of the required majority. the results have amply borne out the objection to its being necessary for per cent. of the electors to vote before the election is valid. in several places the publicans gave orders for their supporters to abstain from voting, and thus prevented public opinion being tested. at auckland the temperance people made no attempt to prohibit or reduce, for they knew that it would be hopeless to think of securing a sufficient poll by themselves. the _new zealand herald_ ( th march, ) says: "we think it will be found, when the whole of the returns come to hand, that in more than half the districts the whole proceedings are void, because half the names on the roll did not vote. the law may be defeated because one party may, previous to the elections, place a crowd of names on the roll, either merely bogus names, or the names of persons whom they know will not take the trouble to go to the poll. and as the matter stands, the ballot is practically defeated in many instances. where there are no candidates to be voted for those acting in the interest of the hotels know, when they see a man going to the polling booth, that he is going to vote either for reduction or prohibition, and they appeal to him: 'you are surely not going to give a vote against us?'" from what seems to be a mistaken policy, the advanced temperance party refused to take any part in the choice of committee-men; consequently, while nearly every place has chosen reduction, the amount of reduction will now be decided by men elected largely by the liquor interest. it is hard to see what benefits the prohibitionists hope to obtain from this course, unless, as many aver, they want the public-houses made as disreputable as possible, so that the people will be more eager to get rid of them. the opinion of various classes in the colony as to the outcome of the election can, perhaps, be best seen by extracts from their own journals. the _lyttelton times_ (anti-prohibitionist) says: "the first really genuine local option poll has shown the people to be determined upon further reducing the number of licensed houses. the polling, which was everywhere conducted with the most perfect decorum and good feeling, has served several useful purposes. it has demonstrated the strength, and weakness, of the prohibition party; it has elicited a very decided expression of public opinion that the existing number of licences is in excess of public requirements; it has shown that the people can be safely trusted with full executive and judicial powers in a manner affecting their interests; and it has, we hope, settled the vexed licensing question for three years to come." the (wellington) _new zealand times_ says: "the present interest centres in the large prohibition vote. the weight of that vote is a surprise and a warning. few were prepared for it, but most people frankly confessed their inability to gauge the new power. now that this power has declared itself, few will be prepared to deny that prohibition has come appreciably nearer than a year ago any one thought it would come in this generation.... the decided prohibitionist leaning of the body of electors is a warning that nothing but strict regulation, worthy of the name, will serve to stem the advancing tide." on the other hand, the _otago witness_, although a strongly temperance paper, is inclined to explain away the prohibitionist vote. "numbers of temperance people, properly so called, are working with prohibitionists," it says. "they say to themselves, 'whatever results may be obtained from this agitation of the prohibitionists, they are sure to fall so far short of their aim that by helping them we can accomplish our own'.... we may yet find the bulk of the people advocating prohibition, not because it will prohibit, but because it will restrict." the _manawatu daily standard_ considers: "if the present state of the public mind be any criterion, the day would seem to be dawning when prohibition will come upon us; but the feelings of many would revolt against such a revolutionary procedure being entered upon at the present time". the _christchurch press_ says: "the polling was nowhere so heavy as we were led to suppose by a great many enthusiasts it would be.... a great many abstentions may be accounted for by the fact that those whose desire was for a reduction felt pretty confident that with the votes of the no licence people it would be carried, and consequently they did not take the trouble to vote.... the great lesson which we learn from these elections as to the feeling of the public of new zealand on this licensing question is that a vast majority are not prepared to go to the extreme length of closing all the houses, but that a great majority do desire that there shall be a reduction of something like per cent.; and that those which remain must be made to understand that they retain their licences only on condition that their houses are well conducted in all respects--that is to say, that they only sell good liquor to sober people within legal hours." chapter iii. licensing in australia. a year or two ago mr. david christie murray stirred up the wrath of the australians by charging them, in effect, with being the most drunken people under the sun. this statement, like most other sweeping denunciations, requires to be taken with a considerable amount of reserve; but it certainly is true that our antipodean cousins are, to judge from the evidence afforded by their revenue returns, afflicted with a chronic and incurable thirst. the average consumption of proof alcohol in several of the colonies is almost as great as in england. the liquor laws of australia are now in much the same condition as many are striving to make ours at home. local option is in force over the greater part of the continent. sunday closing is generally compulsory, and the licensed victualler is bound by many restrictions unknown to his brother here. as each colony is entirely independent of the others, their laws differ, and must be described separately. for the purposes of this volume it will be sufficient to deal with victoria, new south wales and queensland, as the laws of the remaining australian colonies present no particular features which call for comment. _victoria._--in victoria, in spite of the fact that the control of the liquor traffic is almost wholly in the hands of the people themselves, the annual consumption of drink costs nearly £ per head. this, however, is a mere trifle to what it once was, for during the gold rush in the fifties the cost was nearly £ a head yearly for every man, woman, and child in the colony. it is misleading, however, to compare the expenditure in england and victoria, and judge the amount consumed by it; for in the antipodes things generally are much dearer, and money is cheaper than at home. the victorians consume about per cent. more spirits, between four and five times as much wine, and not much more than half the beer, per head of population, than we do. from the time when victoria separated from new south wales down to , a decidedly retrograde policy was adopted; licence fees were reduced, grocers' licences introduced, and beer shops legalised. but in the last-named year the liquor laws were amended by a measure giving limited local control over the traffic; and in a further act was passed by which the local powers were considerably increased. under the present law one-fifth of the electorate in any district can petition the governor in council to hold an election to settle the number of public-houses to be permitted there, and he is then obliged to cause a popular vote to be taken on the question. each elector states on a ballot paper how many hotels he wishes to be licensed, and the number named by him must be the number then existing, the statutory number, or some number between. the statutory number has been fixed at one for every inhabitants up to the first thousand, and one for every full beyond. where the number is greater than this it can be reduced by a poll to that limit; where it is less, it can be raised in a similar way up to it. but in no case can the number be reduced below or increased above the statutory limit. in arriving at the decision of the electors, if a majority vote for any particular number then that number is carried. where, however, the votes are so scattered that no particular number commands a majority over all the others the following plan is adopted. "suppose a district with hotels, and as the statutory number. suppose, further, that votes be recorded, of which are for , for , for , for , for , for , and for . the votes given for the higher numbers would be added to those given for until they made a majority of votes recorded. in this case by the time the number is reached, there would be a total of votes, making a majority of the , and the determination would be that the hotels be reduced to ."[ ] where the electors decide in favour of a reduction, a licensing court sits and decides what houses are to be closed. the licensing inspector has to summon all the hotel-keepers before the court, and the court selects the houses which are worst conducted, or which provide least accommodation, as the ones to lose their licences. the houses which are thus closed are given a monetary compensation on account of the annual value of the premises being lowered: the exact amount of the compensation is fixed by two arbitrators, appointed one by the owner and another by the minister. in case these cannot agree a county court judge or police magistrate is nominated by them as umpire. the whole of the compensation money is raised from the "trade" itself, by means of increased licensing fees and penalties for breaches of the liquor law. if these amounts are not sufficient, a special tax is imposed on liquor in order to meet the deficiency. the amounts awarded as compensation have been, in the opinion of many, absurdly high. thus at ballarat east, where forty hotels were closed, the compensation awarded was, to owners, £ , s. d.; to licensees, £ , s. d. at ballarat west, where twenty-six hotels were closed, the compensation came to, for owners, £ , ; for licensees, £ . at broadford the total cost of closing four places was £ . the fact that compensation is paid makes many voters far less keen than they otherwise would be for reduction, even though the money so paid does not in any way cost them anything. in many parts considerable use has been made of the powers of reduction. thus in fourteen local option polls that took place in twelve months the people decided either for reduction or against increase, according as the purpose for which the poll was taken. the victorian licensing laws have certainly prevented any considerable increase of hotels, though they have had but little effect in reducing the drink traffic itself. the following communication from mr. john vale, secretary of the victorian alliance, shows how temperance men regard the present law. "the local option law of the colony," he writes, "first came into force in ; some polls were then taken, but for the most part were rendered void by the condition that one-third of the electors must record their votes in order to constitute a poll. the publican party adopted the policy of not voting, and letting it be known that all who were seen entering the polling booth would be marked men, to be injured in every possible way. thus, the secrecy of the ballot was destroyed. only the temperance stalwarts faced the ordeal, and we were generally just a few short of the required number. in this condition was repealed, in so far as it related to the reduction of hotels. in the following year other polls were taken with success; but then, with brewery money, a process was begun known as 'stonewalling' in the law courts. the publicans would appeal on some technical point. being defeated on that they raised another point; and so on, until after a time they hit upon one which had something in it, or the government got tired of the process. as a result most of the victories of were made of non-effect. we then secured a provision doing away with the power of appeal in connection with local option polls. since then, victories have been secured in a number of important centres, and the condemned hotels have been or are now being closed. the victorian alliance, however, has come to the determination to promote no more polls under the present law. it is believed that polls for prohibition could be carried with no more effort than is required to win victories for reduction. the antagonism to compensation has grown with experience. and in certain cases the licensing courts have used the power which they possess to issue colonial wine licences for public-houses closed by the popular vote, and in respect of which compensation had been paid. wine shops are generally the worst class of drink shops; so that the last state of these houses has become worse than the first: for these, and other reasons, the above-mentioned resolution has been adopted. "in future we shall concentrate our efforts on securing the direct veto without compensation. to this end we are about to secure the introduction of a bill in parliament. it will provide for a vote in each electoral district in conjunction with a general election, which takes place at least every three years, on the simple issue of prohibition. each electoral district to decide the matter for itself. the prohibition would apply to the manufacture as well as the sale of intoxicants. a distinctive feature of the bill is that it will provide for all women voting upon this question equally with all men. it, of course, provides for the repeal of compensation." _queensland._--queensland has the most simple and thorough-going local option act of any of the southern colonies. by this act, which was carried in , one-sixth of the electors in a place can cause a direct vote to be taken on one or all of three propositions: ( ) that the sale of intoxicating liquors shall be prohibited; ( ) that the number of licences shall be reduced to a certain number, not being less than two-thirds of the existing number; ( ) that no new licences shall be granted. the act requires a two-thirds majority to carry the first proposition, but the second and third are carried by a simple majority. in over eighty per cent. of the elections held for the purpose of voting new licences, the temperance party has won. very few attempts have been made to secure prohibition, and none of them have been successful: in a few cases, however, the people have decided in favour of reduction. the experience of queensland seems to point to the conclusion that in a community where prohibitionists are not very strong (as in england) a provision giving the people power of preventing the issuance of new licences will do more good than placing in their hands the option of prohibition which they will not use. in queensland children under fourteen may not be served with liquor even to take away, and persons under eighteen may not be served for consumption on the premises. _new south wales._--the present liquor law of new south wales was carried by sir henry parkes in , and came into force at the beginning of . the power of granting licences is placed in the hands of stipendiary magistrates specially appointed by the government, and several restrictions are placed around the trade. the people are given a limited local option as to whether they will have new licensed houses or not. polls take place on this question once every three years, at the same time as the municipal elections. the popular veto only applies to small houses however, and hotels with over twenty rooms can be licensed whether the people wish it or not. there has been a strong movement throughout the colony for a more complete measure of local option, and several times within the last few years it has seemed as though this would be carried. the one difficulty in the way is the question of compensation; and if the temperance party would only consent to recompensing dispossessed publicans, local option could be passed into law almost at once. the temperance party itself in new south wales has recently become divided. one section, consisting principally of the good templars, has wearied of seeking for local option, and declares that it will accept nothing less than state prohibition. many of these irreconcilables are loud in their declarations that the great mass of teetotalers who are content to work for local option are little better than enemies of the cause. the only outcome of this split is likely to be the delay of temperance legislation of any kind there. part iii. the continent of europe. chapter i. the state as distiller. why should the trade in intoxicants be placed under special restraints? is the question sometimes asked; and the querists are hardly satisfied with the answer that it has continually been proved necessary, by the experience of all civilised governments, to place limits on every business that is shown to be injurious to the well-being of the people. the drink traffic is admittedly such; therefore it has to be dealt with in a way quite different from the trades of the grocer or the baker. there are those who would have us believe that these very restrictions promote intemperance; and visionaries have more than once stated that the best way to encourage sobriety and to restrain excess would be to make the traffic absolutely free. the whole theory of government is against such an idea. it is an axiom of statesmanship that to check any trade by legislation is to injure it; and that, within certain limits, the more severe the restrictions imposed on it, the less likely is a trade to thrive. but for answer to free-trade theorists we need not appeal to axioms of government. the universal experience of nations goes to show that to allow the free manufacture and sale of intoxicants is to use the surest means of promoting all manner of excess. the official returns of france, belgium and germany within the last few years, all show that free trade in drink in these countries has proved an utter failure; and that under it, poverty, insanity and crime are increasing with terrible rapidity. another remarkable illustration of this is to be found in the recent experience of switzerland. by article thirty-one of the swiss constitution of freedom of trade is specially guaranteed. the same year as the new constitution was approved, the canton of argovie wanted to know if this clause would prevent it limiting the number of drink shops in its borders. the federal council replied that "the limitation of the number of drink shops is no longer possible, on account of the principle of liberty of commerce and of industry imposed by article thirty-one of the constitution". the result was an immediate and considerable increase in the number of cabarets in nearly every canton. from to the total of these establishments was raised by per cent., and in geneva there was a wine shop for every people, the average for the whole country being one drink shop for every inhabitants. the effects of this on the condition of the people were immediately apparent. the french have a saying "to smoke and to drink like a swiss, and to get tipsy like a pole"; but now the swiss, never the most temperate nation, showed signs of rapid deterioration through intemperance. at the recruitment of the medical commission reported that the number of young men found fit for military service was from to per cent. less than in , and in some parts the number of men fit for service was as low as · per cent. the principal medical officer declared that the physical degeneration of the candidates was due to the evil effects of spirit drinking and drunkenness. the director of the central bureau of charity stated that per cent. of the applications of mothers and children for relief were brought about by the tippling of the father of the family. sociologists pointed out that the nation was rapidly being destroyed by this one curse; and in order to obtain fuller details the federal assembly requested the federal council to make an inquiry into the matter. the report of the latter body, when issued, more than bore out the gloomy prognostications of the alarmists. from to , patients were admitted to the public lunatic asylums, and of these were brought there by alcoholism. there were deaths annually directly caused by excessive drinking. out of prisoners in cantonal penitentiaries, were found to be drunkards; and in eight reformatories per cent. of the boys and per cent. of the girls were found to be the children of parents one or both of whom were given to intoxication. in switzerland there are a larger proportion of suicides than in any other civilised country, and the commission found that this was caused mainly by alcoholism. the federal council attributed the state of affairs to two reasons: ( ) to the change in the economic condition of switzerland owing to the introduction of railways; ( ) partly to the fact that wine had become costly and inaccessible to the workmen, while at the same time spirits had become cheaper. brandy was not only imported in great quantities from germany, but was also manufactured on a large scale in industrial and domestic distilleries in switzerland. the product of these small distilleries was specially dangerous, not only because of the alcohol it contained, but because of the crude and imperfect state of most of it. there was said to be between five and ten thousand domestic distilleries in the canton of berne alone. to these causes, rather than to the increase of the shops for the sale of liquor, the council attributed the increased alcoholism; but the popular opinion was against it on this point, and power was almost immediately afterwards given to the cantons to limit the number of public-houses. the chief recommendation of the council was that steps should be taken to cheapen the price of beer and wine and to make spirits dearer. in order to accomplish this latter aim the government caused a popular vote to be taken on the question whether the constitution should be so altered as to permit the traffic in intoxicants to be subject to control. there was a two-thirds majority in favour of control, and soon afterwards a scheme was formulated for making the manufacture of spirits entirely a state monopoly. this plan was started partly in the hope of checking drunkenness and providing the people with pure drink; but undoubtedly a cause that was very largely responsible for its initiation was the hope of securing an abundant revenue. has the monopoly law been a success? financially, yes; so far as ensuring the purity of the spirits sold, also yes; but for checking the consumption of strong drink it has been almost if not quite a failure. in saying this i am well aware that i express an opinion different from that of nearly every english writer on the subject, official and otherwise. some at least of the data on which english writers have founded favourable opinions is partly unreliable and partly misleading. thus in the (english) foreign office report on switzerland (no. ) it was stated that the consumption of spirits in , before the passing of the measure, amounted to · litres per head, and that this has been reduced by the monopoly to a little over litres. now it is impossible to say exactly what was the average consumption in ; but the monopoly itself, in its official returns, places the amount drunk per head that year, not at · litres, but at · . the difference is enormous, and it must be remembered that it is rather to the interest of the monopoly to overstate than to understate the quantity drunk before it took over control. moreover, from the figures for a by no means negligable amount must be deducted for that which, though reckoned in the swiss drink bill, was not consumed there but was smuggled to neighbouring countries. for the first year there was a great decrease. the total spirit drinking, including that illegally obtained, was officially estimated at · litres per head, or less by one-quarter than in . this was due principally to the rise in price of brandy. but since that year the total spirit bill has been steadily increasing. in it was · litres a head, in , · litres, and in (the last year for which returns are available), · litres. these figures include only the amount sold through the monopoly. to them must be added three unknown quantities,--first, the spirits made by the people at their own homes from fruit; secondly, a proportion of the amount sold by the monopoly for use in manufactures, etc., and mixed with special preparations to render it undrinkable, which is admittedly often so doctored by people of depraved tastes as to be made potable again; and, thirdly, the amount smuggled. formerly, as was said, swiss spirits used to be smuggled into neighbouring countries; but now, owing to the rise in prices through the monopoly, drink from other countries is smuggled into switzerland. those who claim for the state distilleries that they are potent forces in reducing the traffic in distilled liquors seem to mistake altogether their methods of working. the check to drunkenness has been produced, not by the state manufacturing drink, but by the prohibition of home manufacture and the increase in the price of spirits. it is no longer possible now for the peasant woman to manufacture her fiery draught from potatoes, and to feed her little one on it in place of milk. the distilleries are not managed so as to check drinking (for with that they have nothing to do), but to supply the dealers with pure liquors. in fact, it is to be expected that people who can afford it will now drink more spirits than they once would. before the monopoly, much of the brandy was crude, of bad quality, and most injurious. now it is purified and excellent; and, while i cannot claim to be an authority on this point myself, i am informed by persons who do drink that they can consume much more of properly prepared spirits than they can of those that contain any quantity of fusel oil and other harmful substances. there were distilleries (besides the domestic stills) at the time the new plan was started; but these were all closed, with the exception of about three, compensation being paid to the owners. the establishments permitted to continue business are compelled to sell all their raw spirit to the régie at a fixed rate; and in order to protect home trade the régie is obliged to buy at least one-fourth of its spirits from native producers. no spirits can be imported by private individuals from foreign countries, except under strict conditions, and after a special tax has been paid on them. the monopoly minutely examines all liquor purchased by it; its purity is carefully ascertained, and then it is resold to retail dealers, either in the form of raw spirit or refined and prepared with a bouquet to suit the public taste. the prices fixed by the régie are by no means high, but they are a decided increase on what were formerly charged. with this system of regulating the supply of spirits another was adopted at the same time of encouraging the consumption of beer and wine. the taxes on these drinks were remitted, and their sale made as free as possible from restriction. it was hoped that this would cause the people to use lighter drinks more; and though it has made little difference to the wine trade, it has greatly helped to increase the popularity of beer. turning to the financial side of the business, the figures are almost enough to make any chancellor of the exchequer whose budget shows a balance on the wrong side, become his own distiller. from june, (when the monopoly was started), till the end of , the income was £ , , the expenditure £ , , and the profit remaining £ , . in the income had reached £ , , while the expenditure was £ , , and the profit £ , . for there was a still further all-round increase. the income was £ , , the expenditure £ , , and the profit £ , . a portion of the profits has to be put on one side each year to repay the preliminary outlay of purchasing plant and compensating the old distillers. this cost £ , , and it will be all paid off by . a further sum has for a few years to be paid to several cantons in place of former revenues stopped by the creation of the monopoly; and what remains is used for public purposes. although the régie is entirely under the control of the federal government, the latter does not take any of these profits, but they are distributed among the cantons in proportion to their population, and used by them as ordinary cantonal revenue. one curious provision in the monopoly law is the stipulation that each canton shall devote one-tenth of the alcohol revenue for the purpose of promoting temperance. this vague provision has been interpreted by different bodies in various ways. in some parts the money is used for the relief of the poor, the maintenance of lunatic asylums, and the like; but there is growing up a strong conviction that it ought to be expended in more strictly temperance work, such as the financing of temperance societies, the cure and care of drunkards, and the instruction of children in the physiological effects of alcohol. by "temperance" the swiss do not mean teetotalism, for total abstinence societies are almost unknown among them, the only one of any size being that of la croix bleue, which numbers some members and adherents. the monopoly is in many ways useful; and, if people must drink spirits, there seems no reason why the state should not profit from their folly by itself securing the immense gain that accrues to the manufacturer. but it is a misnomer to call it a temperance agency; for it is no such thing. if switzerland is ever to shake off the curse of intemperance which is still on it, its people must take some more active steps against it. many of them are already realising this; and total abstinence societies, such as that of la croix bleue, are gradually spreading among its more thoughtful people. strange to say, the first advocates of total abstinence in switzerland were not so much the moral reformers who have adopted this as their own in other lands, as scientific men, who were led by their investigations to a firm conviction of the harmfulness and uselessness of alcohol. religious and social reformers are now taking it up; but they are as yet a very small band, and they will need to do much before their cause makes much progress in helvetia. chapter ii. the gothenburg system. the scandinavian licensing system has, during the last few years, received considerable attention from reformers in many lands; and rightly so. whatever may be its faults, there is probably no other plan of liquor legislation of which it can be said that it has, in a comparatively short time, reduced the traffic in spirits by about three-quarters, without seriously discommoding the moderate drinkers, and without creating any illegal trade worth mentioning. there seems every likelihood that the system will, in a few years, spread far beyond the land of its inception. it satisfies the demand for increased state control, promises abundant revenue, and yet discourages the sale of liquor. a small body of public men in england are eager to have it adopted here; and acute observers in america declare that (provided no clauses in the state constitutions are held to render it unlawful) it is almost certain to be tried there before long. a bill has already been brought before the massachusetts legislature for the purpose of permitting such a trial, and has met with the approval of a considerable section of the people. less than half a century ago, sweden was the most drunken civilised country in the world. its laws permitted almost free trade in the manufacture and sale of spirits, and even the poorest peasants could obtain as much brandy as they wanted. all the horrors that ever follow habitual intemperance were to be seen throughout the land. the poverty of the people was great; social and moral degradation were prevalent; insanity and crime were dangerously on the increase; and there was a general air of hopeless desolation over the country. the average consumption of spirits has been variously estimated at from a little under six to ten gallons per head yearly; and the stuff, being home-manufactured, was of the crudest and most injurious quality. patriotic swedes soon began to look about for a remedy for the national curse. dr. weiselgren commenced a crusade against spirit-drinking with most remarkable results; and before long a hundred thousand persons had enlisted themselves under his banner in a league voluntarily abstaining from spirits. a still more general movement shortly afterwards took place, when people from all parts of the country petitioned parliament to take some steps to check intemperance. in response, a law was passed in abolishing domestic and small stills, and giving rural localities the control of the traffic, and the option of either having drink shops, or sweeping them away altogether. where it was decided to still permit the sale of drink, the local authorities were authorised to limit the hours of sale, and the number of public-houses. the people at once made considerable use of their newly acquired powers. there had been over , distilleries in ; the same year as the act passed they were reduced to between and . the greater number of country districts elected to go under complete prohibition; and whereas formerly spirits could be bought in nearly every peasant's house, there were now in the country districts less than retail licences. the wholesale trade was not dealt with by the law. there were no two opinions as to the beneficial effects of the new measure in the country; but it was found that the towns did not share equally in these benefits. it had been considered inadvisable to extend the option of prohibition to towns, and before long the great mass of public-houses became centred in urban districts. in , though the towns contained only twelve per cent. of the people, three-quarters of the total public-houses were to be found in them, and eight townsmen were convicted of drunkenness to every one countryman. the knowledge of these facts stirred the authorities up to see if nothing more could be done. in the municipal council of gothenburg appointed a committee to inquire into the causes of pauperism. the committee reported that, "the worst enemy of the morals and well-being of the working classes in this community is brandy. yet it is not the intoxicating liquor only and its moderate consumption which cause demoralisation and poverty; it is the disorder, evil example, temptations, and opportunities for every kind of iniquity with which public-house life abounds, that contribute mainly to this unhappy state of things. neither local enactments nor police surveillance can do much so long as public-houses are in the hands of private individuals, who find their profit in encouraging intemperance, without regard for age or youth, rich or poor."[ ] the committee recommended that the trade should be taken out of the control of the publicans, and managed by a company for the good of the community. a philanthropic company was formed, in consequence of this report, by a score of the leading inhabitants of the place, for the purpose of taking over the trade. it was specially stipulated that neither shareholders nor managers should be pecuniarily interested in pushing the sales, and the company was to receive no profits except per cent. on the paid-up capital, all receipts beyond this going to the town treasury. the amount of paid-up capital required has been under £ . the company commenced its work on st october, ; and the way it has since fulfilled its obligations is worthy of the highest praise. it has shown an honest desire to carry out the sale of spirits in such a way as, while meeting the legitimate wants of the moderate drinkers, shall discourage excess in every possible way. it has consistently attempted to restrict rather than to encourage the trade in liquor. the magistrates have granted it sixty-one licences, but of these it only uses nineteen (although the population of the place is considerably over a hundred thousand) and allows the remainder to lie in abeyance. the law permits public-houses to be open till at night, but the company closes its establishments at from : to o'clock, according to the season of the year. it has opened five coffee-houses and reading-rooms, where no spirits are sold, and four eating-houses, where none are obtainable except the customary dram at meals. generally it has shown a wise and patriotic disregard of that policy which would sacrifice everything for a favourable balance sheet. each public-house is placed under the charge of a manager, who is expressly ordered not to encourage drinking in any way, and is warned that if he does so he will be dismissed. the company at first employed several of the old licensed victuallers and barmen; but before long it had to get rid of all of them, for they were so accustomed to encouraging tippling among their customers that they could not understand a system which forbade their doing it. the managers derive no direct or indirect profits from the sale of spirits beyond their stated salaries; and they have directions not to supply strong drink to young people, to those who show any signs of intoxication, or to those who require several drams in succession, or who pay repeated visits to the public-houses at short intervals for the purpose of drinking. they are not allowed to give any credit for liquor. besides selling drink, each house has to keep a supply of good hot and cold food, temperance drinks, cigars, and the like. inspectors are appointed whose sole duty is to see that the managers conduct the trade properly. the four eating-houses at which spirits are sold only with meals are large, well conducted, and very popular. they cater almost exclusively for working men, and sell food at rates which put to shame even our own lockharts and pearces. a dinner of a large slice of pork, a sausage, four potatoes and gravy, costs under twopence halfpenny. when these houses were first opened nearly every customer took a dram with his meals, but now not more than half of them do so. the eating-houses do not quite pay their way, but are run at a loss of a little over £ a year. the company regards the money as well spent, for the places have a most beneficial effect in promoting temperance. the five free reading-rooms maintained by the company, in which no intoxicants (except small beer) are sold, cost between £ and £ a year to maintain. they are well supplied with papers and books, and visitors can obtain light refreshments of various kinds. in considering the effects of the gothenburg system on the lives of the people, these two things must be borne in mind: first, the system only touches the trade in spirits, and has nothing to do with the sale of beer. this latter is almost free, and has been rather encouraged by the authorities than otherwise, under the mistaken notion that it would lessen the demand for stronger drink. of wine and beer shops, licensed for consumption on the premises, there are , besides an unlimited number for consumption off the premises, requiring no licences. a large amount of the drunkenness in gothenburg is caused by these beer shops. the police there ascertain, when a person is arrested for drunkenness, where he obtained his liquor; and from their returns it can be seen that the intoxication produced by beer is steadily increasing. in the number of persons arrested who drank last at beer saloons was ; by the number had increased to ; and in the number was . a second important consideration in estimating the results of the system is the fact that even the whole trade in spirits is not in the hands of the company. there are seventeen restaurants, licensed by permission of the company, and managed by private individuals, which sell intoxicants. there are also five public-houses whose owners have the ancient right of carrying on the business, and with whom the company cannot interfere. last of all, there are twenty-three wine merchants, who take out expensive licences from the company, for the sale of spirits off the premises. whatever deductions are drawn from the condition of the town as to the results of the system, considerable allowance must be made for the fact that the whole of the liquor traffic is not conducted by the company. perhaps the most outstanding evidence in favour of the system is this, that, not only are the people of the place well satisfied with it, but seventy-six other towns in sweden have been led by it to adopt the same plan, and only thirteen places still retain the old method of selling the licences to private bidders. in norway, too, the spirit trade is now conducted in nearly every town in substantially a similar way. in discussing the effects of any liquor law it is never an easy task to decide how far social changes or effects are the cause of it, or how far they are due to other and entirely different economic causes. immediately after the establishment of the company there was a great decrease in the consumption of drink and its attendant evils in gothenburg; but this was due quite as much to the depression of trade as to anything else. afterwards there was an increase of drinking, for trade greatly improved. it would be inaccurate either to wholly lay the cause of the decrease to the credit of the company or to blame it for the increase. the following returns show the amount of drunkenness in gothenburg during a few selected years:-- arrests for drunkenness. year. population. total. percentage. , · , · , · , · , · , · it is not possible to give any reliable returns as to the amount of spirits consumed in gothenburg. the sales of the company only represent part of the total quantity sold in the place, and all that the company sells is not consumed there. much of it is bought by country people, who take it back with them to their own homes. the returns of the company show a fairly steady decrease. thus in - the total sales amounted to quarts per head; in - , · quarts; and in - , only · quarts. financially, the company has from the first been a great success. it need not have ever called up a penny of its capital, had not the law required this to be done; and every year it has been able to hand over a very large surplus to the town, to be used for public purposes. in (the last year for which, at the time of writing, returns are available) the amounts paid to the city treasury were: ( ) fixed fee for bar trade and retail licences, £ , ; ( ) surplus profits, after paying all expenses, £ , , or a total of £ , . this amounted to the equivalent of over s. a head for every man, woman and child in the place. formerly the city retained the whole of the surplus profits for its own benefit; but this created considerable dissatisfaction, and at last an alteration was made by which the municipality now only receives seven-tenths, the national treasury appropriating two-tenths, and the remaining tenth going to the country districts. in gothenburg the whole of the amount received by the municipality goes for the relief of local taxation. this has been felt by many to embody a dangerous principle, as giving the city authorities a direct interest in the encouragement of drinking. to avoid this, the plan has been adopted in norway of devoting the surplus, not to relieving the rates, but to helping charitable and philanthropic non-rate-aided enterprises. the most notable example of the norwegian plan is the town of bergen. a liquor company was formed here in , at the suggestion of the local magistracy, and it commenced business at the beginning of . not only is the distribution of profits here different, but the management of the houses varies too. in gothenburg the aim has been to make the dram shops comfortable and attractive; in bergen, on the contrary, the aim has apparently been to render them as uncomfortable and as repulsive as possible. each house consists solely of a bar for the sale of liquor; nothing but liquor is sold, and when a person has consumed what he ordered he must go. no seats are provided, and customers are forbidden to loiter about the premises. this sternly repressive policy does not seem to have had a remarkable effect on the consumption of spirits; for whereas in the average sales per head came to · quarts, they were only reduced to · quarts in ; and this notwithstanding the fact that the average consumption for the whole of the country had been reduced in the same time from · quarts to · quarts. the number of arrests for drunkenness in bergen in and was about the same; but a largely increased population in the latter year makes this show that the proportionate intoxication was really less. from the time of its commencement up to , the bergen company was able to distribute £ , among local philanthropic societies, and the recipients of its bounty have included all kinds of works for the common weal, museums, training ships, hospitals, a rescue society, orphanages, a tree-planting society, a fund for sea baths for the poor, temperance organisations, and the like. the profits which would otherwise have gone to enrich a few have thus been scattered about doing good to the many. part iv. england. chapter i. the growth of the licensing system. the english are often said to be the most drunken among civilised nations; but, like many other constantly repeated statements, this is not correct. denmark, belgium and russia certainly take the precedence of us in this matter; and it is an open question if alcoholism is not doing at least as much harm in northern and central france and switzerland, as in the british isles. the casual visitor to our lively neighbour sees but little open intoxication, and consequently assumes that france is a sober country. but those who have gone beneath the surface, and examined the results as recorded in the statistics of prisons and asylums, know that intemperance is rapidly becoming a national plague there. while we may not be the worst offenders in this respect, it is yet undoubted that alcoholism is the greatest source of social misery in our land. theorists may quarrel among themselves as to the exact proportion of poverty and crime produced by intemperance; but no thinking man who is not altogether shut out from association with his fellows can doubt the awful ravages it is producing. we do not require to have it proved to us by figures; we only need to open our eyes and to use such brain power as we may possess to have the proof forced on us. among the fashionable rich, among the idle women of upper middle-class families, as well as in our slum population, intemperance is doing a work of destruction before which the results of the most fatal diseases seem hardly worth notice. most of us would gladly be optimists on this subject, if hard facts would only let us; but it is useless to indulge in an idle optimism, which suffers us to do nothing when the need of our services is greatest. it is accepted by many as an undeniable fact that we are steadily becoming a more sober people; but, unfortunately, statistics do not bear out this view. in some ways temperance has made great advances. drunkenness is no longer looked upon as an amiable weakness, but as a serious offence against society and against oneself. the days of the three-bottle men are over, let us hope never to return; and the incessant drinking among friends that was common not many years ago is now little seen. over one-sixth of the people have entirely abandoned the use of strong drink; everywhere active temperance societies are working hard to promote sobriety; the conditions of life have become infinitely brighter and easier for the great mass of wage earners; education has become universal, and the sale of alcohol has been placed under greater restrictions. yet, notwithstanding all this, the drink trade was never so strong as it is to-day. within fifty years the amount spent on liquor has almost doubled; though the police rarely arrest a drunken person except when outrageously disorderly, nearly , men and women are brought before the magistrates each year for intoxication;[ ] and the number of deaths caused through inebriety cannot be estimated at a lower figure than , a year. the saxon chronicles tell how edgar the peaceable, acting on the advice of archbishop dunstan, determined to do something to check that drunkenness which was, the same a thousand years ago as to-day, all too prevalent on this island. he reduced the number of ale houses to one in each village, and had pegs put in the drinking cup to mark the amount that any person might consume at one draught. these drinking cups held about a couple of quarts each; and, if tradition speaks truly, it was no uncommon thing for men to finish up the whole of this quantity without once taking their lips from the vessel. by the law of edgar, eight pegs were placed in each cup, and heavy penalties were provided for any person who dared to drink further than from one peg to another at a time. edgar's efforts were not crowned with much success. the law restricting the number of public-houses was not long observed; and the draught limit led, in the end, to an increase in the evil it was designed to check. after this attempt the trade was allowed to go on almost without restriction till the end of the fifteenth century; but then the evils caused by it became too apparent to be longer passively borne. in the year , power was given to any two justices of the peace to stop the common selling of ale; and fifty-eight years later, in the reign of edward vi., a serious attempt was made to grapple with the trade. parliament complained that "intolerable hurts and troubles to the commonwealth of this realm doth daily grow and increase through such abuses and disorders as are had and used in common ale houses or other houses called 'tippling houses';" and in order to check these evils it passed various laws for the regulation of public-houses. this act is the foundation of our present licensing laws, and the three main lines which it laid down for the limitation of the business have continued to be observed ever since. these are: ( ) that the retail trade in intoxicants is an exceptional business, which the state can only permit to be carried on by duly licensed persons; ( ) that the power of granting licences lies with the justices of the peace; and ( ) that the magistrates have power, when they think fit, to take away such licences. notwithstanding this act, the national drunkenness showed no signs of decreasing; and when james i. came to the throne fresh efforts were put forth to check it. for many years past the inns had been steadily changing their character; and from being places of rest and refreshment for travellers they had become principally tippling houses. so a measure was passed "to restrain the inordinate haunting and tippling in inns". according to the preamble of the act, "the ancient, true and principal use of inns was for the receipt and relief and lodging of wayfaring people travelling from place to place; and for the supply of the wants of such people as are not able by greater quantities to make their provision of victuals; and not meant for the entertainments and harbouring of lewd and idle people, to spend and consume their time in lewd and drunken manner". to prevent this improper use of the taverns, various stringent regulations were made. no resident in the district or city where any inn was situated was allowed to remain drinking in it unless ( ) he was invited by and accompanied some traveller staying at the inn; ( ) he was a labourer, in which case he would be allowed to stay at the inn for an hour at dinner time; ( ) he was a lodger; or ( ) unless he was there for some other urgent and necessary cause, allowed to be such by two magistrates. a ten-shilling fine, to go to the poor, was the punishment for breaking this law. two years later, a further act was passed for the prevention of drunkenness. according to the preamble, "the loathsome and odious sin of drunkenness is of late grown into common use, being the root and foundation of many other enormous sins, as bloodshed, stabbing, murder, fornication, adultery, and such like, to the great dishonour of god and of our nation, the overthrow of many good arts and manual trades, the disabling of divers workmen, and the general impoverishing of many good subjects, abusively wasting the good creatures of god". this time it was provided that any person found drunk should be fined five shillings, or confined in the stocks for six hours. in a further act was passed dealing with the matter, in which it was admitted that no success had attended the former attempts. "notwithstanding all laws and provisions already made, the inordinate vice of excessive drinking and drunkenness doth more and more prevail." in order to more effectually suppress it, heavier penalties were provided, the landlord who permitted tippling was to lose his licence, and less evidence was required to secure a conviction. not long afterwards the penalties were again increased. it is notorious that all these measures failed to effect their purpose. but the country was soon to learn that difficult as it may be to promote sobriety by law, it is easy enough for parliament to encourage and promote drunkenness. soon after william and mary came to the throne, the nominal policy of previous reigns was altered, with immediate and overwhelming results. formerly almost all the spirits used in england had been imported from the continent, and the conditions under which their manufacture could be carried on at home were such as to keep the business very small. but in parliament changed this. the government was in great need of money to meet the plots of traitors at home and carry on its campaigns abroad; and it was thought that a considerable revenue might be obtained by encouraging the home spirit trade. accordingly, the importation of distilled waters from foreign countries was prohibited, and the right to manufacture them was thrown open to all, subject merely to the payment of certain excise dues. the natural consequence was that the price of spirits fell so greatly as to place them within the reach of all classes. before long dram drinking had, to use the expression of lecky, "spread with the rapidity and the virulence of an epidemic". the results of free trade in drink were visible all over the land. gin shops arose in all directions in every large town; and in london there were, outside the city and the borough, over spirit dealers to a population of , . in less than fifty years the consumption of british spirits rose sevenfold; and everywhere the same tale was heard of the ruin it was bringing on all classes. it was at this time that the gin dealers hung out signs announcing that customers could get drunk for a penny, dead drunk for twopence, and have straw to lie on for nothing. nor was this a mere boast; for many of the innkeepers actually provided rooms whose floors were covered with straw on which the intoxicated customers could lie until they recovered consciousness. such a condition of affairs could not be long permitted to continue. parliament, alarmed at the results proceeding from its own action, set about for a remedy. as a first step, dealers in spirits were compelled to obtain licences, like ale house keepers; an annual charge of £ was placed on the spirit licence, and the principle was introduced of having the licences renewed annually. but the change was made too suddenly, and the licence fee was too high; and this resulted in an extensive illicit trade springing up. in order to stop this, parliament repealed the act and passed another, forbidding the sale of spirits except in a dwelling-house, under a penalty of £ . that is to say, every householder was given leave to sell drink in his own home. the last state was worse than the first. in the magistrates of middlesex petitioned parliament, stating forcibly the terrible results from the state of the law. a parliamentary committee was appointed to consider the whole matter; and it reported that the low price of spirituous liquors was the principal inducement to their excessive use; and that, in order to prevent this, a duty should be placed on strong drink, and the right to vend it should be restricted. the same year the government passed the famous gin act, a measure so stringent as to practically prohibit the sale of spirits. no person was allowed to dispose of them unless he had paid an annual licensing fee of £ ; and the penalty for breaking the law was a fine of £ . a tax of twenty shillings a gallon was also placed on all spirits manufactured. the gin act came too late. the passion for spirits had become firmly rooted among the people, and they would not consent to have their supplies cut off. they rose against the officers appointed to carry out the act, and in many of the larger towns there was for some time danger of rebellion. the legal sale of proof spirits dropped in a year to two-thirds of its former proportions; but an immense illicit trade was carried on, which far more than balanced the reduction. all the power at the back of the government was not enough to obtain the enforcement of this measure, though the magistrates made strenuous efforts to carry it out. in two years , persons were convicted of breaking the law, but all the prisons of the country would have failed to hold a tithe of those who openly set it at defiance. the excise officers were held in general detestation, and informers or any who dared to appear in excise prosecutions went in danger of their lives. at last the government had to give way, and in the act was repealed. in the various acts relating to the licensing of public-houses were consolidated, and the control of them was made more stringent. two years later a new and most unfortunate departure was taken. with the hope of causing people to abandon the drinking of spirits, parliament determined to encourage the sale of beer; and an act was passed permitting any householder to open a beer shop on paying an excise fee of two guineas. the consumption of beer rose twenty-eight per cent. in consequence; but it was soon found that this, in place of checking the rush to spirits, aided it; and the increase in the spirit trade was even greater than that in beer. the number of houses for the sale of intoxicating liquors rose from , to , ; and many old inns, that formerly had been respectably conducted, were now driven by the stress of competition to very doubtful means for the promotion of their trade. at the same time crime showed a great increase, and, to quote from a report of a committee of the house of lords, "the commitments for trial in england and wales in the years - were, in the proportion to those of - , the two first years after the enactment of the beer act, of to ; that this is not a mere casual coincidence the committee have the strongest reasons to believe from the general evidence submitted to them, but more especially from that of the chief constables of police and the chaplains of gaols, who have the best opportunities, the one of watching the character of the beer shops and of those who frequent them, the other of tracing the causes of crime and the career of criminals". the report of a committee of the house of commons in was still more emphatic. "the beer shop system," it said truly, "has proved a failure." _off licences._--through legislation introduced by mr. gladstone early in the "sixties," persons are now permitted to sell spirits, wine or beer in bottles, for consumption off the premises, on payment of a small licence fee. previous to then it was illegal for any spirit merchant to supply less than two gallons at a time. the new law has led to a considerable trade in strong drink through grocers, and it has been estimated that the off licence holders supply about five per cent. of spirits sold. this departure has been the object of very considerable opposition from both publicans and temperance advocates. the publicans naturally object to having a large part of what was their monopoly thrown open to almost free competition; and temperance advocates declare that the off licences are very largely responsible for the rapid increase of intemperance among women. it is said that many who would not venture to go to a public-house to order what they want, quietly and secretly obtain their supplies through the grocer, and are able to indulge at home without restraint. innumerable clergymen and doctors declare that, to their personal knowledge, these facilities have largely promoted female intemperance. but in the very nature of the thing, these statements, while worthy of all attention, are not capable of ordinary proof. the only way they could be shown to be true would be by naming a large number of cases, with names and addresses, and submitting them for examination. naturally neither clergymen nor doctors can do this; for it would be impossible for them to make public the secrets of persons whose inner histories they learn in their professional administrations. it was this that caused the failure of the temperance party to convince the committee of the house of lords, in , as to the harmfulness of the off licences. in its report, the lords' committee made this statement about the matter:-- "the question which the committee have had to consider is, not whether some cases of intemperance may be traced to the purchase of spirits at grocers' shops, but whether any general increase of intemperance can be attributed to grocers' licences. after the examination of many witnesses on the point, and after the best inquiries they could make, the committee have obtained very little direct evidence in support of this view; and the conclusion they have come to is, that upon the whole there have been no sufficient grounds shown for specially connecting intemperance with the retail of spirits at shops as contrasted with their retail at other licensed houses." _sunday closing._--sunday closing now prevails over almost the whole of the empire, with the exception of england itself. it is in force in nearly every colony, and in scotland, wales and ireland. for the latter country an act was passed in , granting this measure to the whole island, except dublin, cork, belfast, limerick and waterford, for the space of four years. the act was looked upon as purely experimental; but it operated so successfully that it has since been renewed, year by year, as an annual measure. many efforts have been made to place it on a permanent basis, and to include the five exempted cities in its scope. both protestants and catholics are agreed as to its necessity, and leading statesmen of both parties have testified to its beneficial effects. in , when mr. t. w. russell brought before the house a bill to make sunday closing permanent and general in ireland, the opponents of the measure obtained the appointment of a committee to inquire into the results of the act. after a most exhaustive inquiry this committee reported in favour of it, and recommended-- (_a_) that all drink shops in ireland close at nine p.m. on saturdays. (_b_) that the present irish sunday closing act be made permanent, and include the five hitherto exempted towns. (_c_) that the distance requisite for a person to travel to qualify as a _bonâ-fide_ traveller entitled to purchase refreshments be increased from three miles to six. this was a great triumph for the sunday closers. in the words of mr. a. j. balfour, "it was not unfair to say that the whole weight of evidence, with comparatively insignificant exceptions, was in favour of the continuance of sunday closing in ireland, and of the adoption of saturday closing after nine o'clock. the people who gave evidence were not drawn from one class of the community, but they represented every class and every section of opinion." since then acts have been brought in year after year embodying these recommendations; but although supported by the government it has never been found possible to carry them, chiefly on account of the congested condition of business in the commons. in scotland sunday closing has been in force under the "forbes-mackenzie act" since . it works on the whole very successfully, as might be expected from the fact that in all things scotland is strongly a sabbath-observing country. in wales this law has also been in force since . it is admitted to be a fair success in the interior of wales; but great difficulty has been found in enforcing it in cardiff, and along the border line between england and wales. in cardiff a very large shebeen trade has sprung up, and a number of clubs have been established for the avowed purpose of supplying their members with liquor on sundays. in , in consequence of many statements that were in circulation declaring sunday closing in wales to be a failure, the government appointed a royal commission, presided over by lord balfour of burleigh, to inquire into the matter. to the great surprise of many, the commission reported in favour of the act, and declined to recommend either modification or repeal of it, stating that "a change in this direction would be unwelcome to a vast majority of the population". chapter ii. licensing reform. plans for the reform of the licensing laws are legion, and more bills are brought before the house of commons year by year dealing with this matter than with any other. to describe every one of these plans would be wearisome and useless. it will answer every purpose to confine this chapter to the chief measures proposed within this last quarter of a century. mr. bruce's bill.--no more careful or more thorough attempt has been made to change the licensing laws than that introduced by mr. bruce (now lord aberdare), who, as home secretary to the liberal government, framed a bill on the subject in . in bringing it before the house of commons he laid down five propositions, as leading principles which he thought might be expected to receive the assent of all the members. they were:-- . that under the existing system of licensing, far more licences have been issued than are required by public convenience, there being one to every people. . that the present mode of issuing licences is unsatisfactory, no guidance being given to the magistrates either as to the number to be issued or the respectability and the responsibility of the persons seeking to be licensed. . that no sufficient guarantees are taken as to the orderly management of public-houses or their supervision. . that the laws against adulteration are insufficient, and, such as they are, are imperfectly enforced. . that the hours during which public-houses are allowed to be open admit of reduction without interfering with the liberty or the material convenience of the people generally. to these he added two other propositions, on which he did not expect such unanimous agreement. ( ) that the public have a right to be supplied with places of refreshment sufficient in number, convenient, and respectably conducted. ( ) that all existing interests, however qualified the interests may be, are entitled to just and fair consideration. on the basis of these propositions he built up a plan which still deserves the careful attention of all licensing reformers. the leading principles of it were as follows: the licensing powers were to still be retained by the magistrates, and no liquor licences were to be issued without their certificates. all old licences were to remain in force for ten years from the passing of the act, as of right, and then they were to absolutely lapse. new licences were to be granted on a novel plan. the justices would meet together before the licensing day, and would decide on the number of new licences to be issued, altogether apart from the question of to whom they were to be given. if the number of public-houses in the neighbourhood, when the proposed new establishments had been added, did not exceed a certain fixed scale, then the decision of the magistrates would be final. if, however, the new licences would bring the total above that proportion, then it would be necessary to take a vote of the ratepayers as to whether the increase should be permitted or not, and the majority of those voting would decide. the scale was, in towns, one licensed house for people and under, two houses for up to people, and one more for every additional ; in the country, one licensed house for people and under, two for up to , three for up to , and one more for every additional inhabitants. when the number of new licences to be issued had been fixed, they were to be put up to public auction, and sold to the highest bidders, one person having power to buy any number or all of them. the purchaser would be allowed to select his own house for carrying on the business, provided it was within the limits of the district; but before receiving his licence he would have to obtain a certificate from the magistrates that the premises chosen were suitable for the purpose, and that the proposed manager was a proper person. it would not be necessary for the licence-holder to be his own manager. all licences so purchased were to be renewed annually, as of right, for ten years after the passing of the act, except when forfeited by misconduct. at the end of ten years, when all licences, old and new, were about to lapse, the magistrates would decide anew what the number of public-houses in their neighbourhood should be. if they decided to exceed the statutory limits, then it would be necessary to poll the ratepayers and obtain their sanction to the proposal; but if the number proposed by them was not in excess of those limits, then this need not be done. the licences would again be put up for sale for another ten years, and the same process would be repeated at the end of each decade. in the case of eating-houses and beer and wine licences for refreshment-rooms these regulations would not apply, but the magistrates might grant licences at their discretion. nor would they apply to houses selling drink for consumption off the premises only; for these, the justices would grant certificates, on certain conditions being observed by the applicants. the control of drink shops was to be made much stricter. a second conviction for serious breaches of the law would lead to forfeiture of the licences, without choice on the part of the magistrates. every conviction must be recorded on the back of the licensing certificates; and on the police penalties for offences under the act amounting in three consecutive years to £ , or in five years to £ , the licence would be taken away. in order to secure the better enforcement of the law an entirely new body of inspectors was to be created. these should be quite independent of the local authorities, and their sole duty would consist of supervising the liquor sellers. there was to be one inspector-in-chief; england and wales would be divided into counties with an inspector for each, and every large town and district would have a superintendent, under whom there would be a carefully selected and well-paid body of men. "the police cannot properly and ought not to be entrusted within the walls of a public-house," mr. bruce said. "it is utterly impracticable to have a proper system of inspection if steps are not taken to make the inspection more efficacious; and efficient inspection can in my opinion be conducted only by a body of men altogether independent of the police.... they will be ... specially charged with the duty of seeing that no offence is committed in a public-house which is prohibited by law." the cost of this inspection was to be defrayed from the licence fees. finally, the bill contained clauses specially directed against adulteration. samples of the liquors sold were to be frequently taken and analysed at somerset house laboratory. when it was found that any injurious ingredients had been mixed with them, the seller would be liable, for a first offence, to a fine of £ or imprisonment for one month, with or without hard labour; and, for a second offence, to a fine of £ or three months' hard labour, and forfeiture of licence. mr. bruce's proposals fell like a bomb among the brewers and publicans. they realised that the time had now come when they must fight for their very existence; and fight they did. temperance meetings were broken up all over the country, every tap-room became the centre of a campaign against the government, and all the liquor sellers and their adherents became unswerving tories in a day. intense pressure was brought to bear on individual members, and the government became the object of most intense hostility. there was not, at that time, the strong sentiment throughout the country in favour of restrictive legislation which is to be found now; and every bar parlour was used as the headquarters and meeting house of a propaganda to convince working men that the bill was a measure aimed against the liberty of the people. the _times_, to the surprise of many, gave mr. bruce its warmest support, and day by day did its best to strengthen the hands of the government. the great body of middle-class people, too, were inclined to approve of the measure. but the forces against it were too strong; and after a few weeks the ministry gave way, and it was announced that, owing to the time that had been wasted over the budget, there would be no opportunity of proceeding with the measure that session. what were the teetotalers doing all this time? where was the united kingdom alliance? where were the hundred and one other bodies that had been clamouring for years for reform? here was a ministry that had been bold enough to risk office in order to promote temperance; surely it had a right to look to the temperance party for cordial support! if it looked, however, it looked in vain, for the influence of the teetotalers was worse than thrown away in this struggle. the united kingdom alliance was so busy promoting petitions in favour of a permissive bill which every one knew had no chance of success, that it had no energy to spare for helping on the government. it officially announced that its attitude was one of "friendly neutrality"; and when the secretary of the alliance was urged by the _leeds mercury_ to support the bill, he replied that "it (the drink trade) ought not to be sanctioned by law, nor tolerated within the range of christian civilisation". no more suicidal policy, no course more fatal to the promotion of temperance in our land, could possibly have been taken. at a time when every publican and every brewer was seeking the destruction of the government on account of its attitude to the drink question, the alliance was content to be "friendly neutral"! by their almost inexplicable conduct, the leaders of that body helped to delay temperance legislation for a quarter of a century, and created a deep distrust of teetotalers in the minds of most politicians. if they had actively thrown themselves into the breach, had used all their forces to support the ministry, had been content to drop for a few months the plan of bringing forward a measure which they knew parliament would certainly reject,--then mr. bruce and his colleagues might have been encouraged to proceed, and the liquor traffic in england would by this time have been cut down to a fraction of its old proportions. mr. caine recently claimed that the temperance party rather supported than opposed the government at this crisis; and that, in fact, "practically, their only friends and supporters in the constituencies were the teetotalers". no one denies that many individual abstainers, as, for instance, mr. caine himself, were active in helping on the measure; but the temperance party as a whole was not. the month after the bill was abandoned, mr. bruce publicly charged sir wilfrid lawson, in the house of commons, with having hindered and greatly diminished its chance of success by the course he had taken. while the bill was still before the country, and while its fate was trembling in the balance, many prominent abstainers opposed it bitterly, and spoke and wrote against it. professor newman, in answer to a request from mr. s. morley, that he and his friends of the alliance would not refuse an instalment because they did not get all they wanted, replied: "the united kingdom alliance cannot postpone its action for ten years.... its (the bill's) good points will not help us; they are not things which we asked; its evil points will damage us extremely. hence if we fail to induce mr. bruce to withdraw his astonishing innovations of principle, i certainly do not guarantee that our friends will refrain from total opposition." mr. raper, a leading temperance speaker, at a meeting in the manchester town hall, held under the auspices of the united kingdom alliance, said: "it is strange that a man of such a powerful intellect as the home secretary should be so remarkably defective in observation of a logical kind. i have not seen a greater wonder this quarter of a century than i did when i saw this able man standing for two hours and ten minutes giving forth grand principles and then cutting them to pieces--making statements which he followed up with nothing." to judge from the speeches of dr. f. r. lees, who is considered by many the premier writer on total abstinence, one would think that the bill had been framed by a committee of burton brewers. "give no unwise and blind support to the proposition of the government," he said. "i do not think that the bill, as a practical bill, is worth discussing in detail.... it is a wholesome and righteous principle, that of public control over the liquor traffic; but you are denied your claim, it is postponed for ten years, while the existing generation of victims shall perish, and a new generation shall take their place." why rake up all these old mistakes? it may be asked. why not forget the past? the answer is plain. the old matter must be borne in mind, not in order to belittle and denounce the men who made the mistakes, but so that the reformers of the present may learn from the blunders of their predecessors, and not again wreck the ship because it is only sailing towards port with a couple of sails instead of a full rig. mr. chamberlain's plan.--in some stir was made by mr. chamberlain advocating an adoption of the gothenburg system in england. the birmingham town council expressed its approval of the plan; and on th march, , mr. chamberlain brought forward a resolution in the house of commons: "that it is desirable to empower the town councils of boroughs, under the municipal corporation acts, to acquire compulsorily, on payment of fair compensation, the existing interests in the retail sale of intoxicating drinks within their respective boroughs; and thereafter, if they see fit, to carry on the trade for the convenience of the inhabitants, but so that no individual shall have any interest in nor derive any profit from the sale". this motion was supported by sir wilfrid lawson and his allies; but was rejected by a large majority, voting against and only in its favour. mr. ritchie's local government bill.--in , when the local government bill was introduced by the unionist government, it contained clauses providing that the whole of the licensing of public-houses should be handed over to the county councils; and that, in addition to the powers now held by the magistrates, the councils should have authority to close the houses on sunday, good friday and christmas day, either altogether or for part of the day, to alter the hour of closing at night, and to increase the licensing fees not more than per cent. there were two great limits to the proposed power of the councils. the first gave the magistrates power to prevent the renewal of a licence on proof that the holder was guilty of illegal conduct. the second limit was the provision that when the councils refused the renewal of a licence for any other cause than the fault of the holder, the latter should be entitled to compensation. such compensation was to be assessed on "the basis of the difference (if any) between the value of the licensed premises immediately before the passing of this act and the value which such premises would have then borne if the licence had then determined". the compensation was to be divided between the persons interested in the premises, either by agreement among themselves, by arbitration, or, finally, by the county court. the cost of the compensation was to be borne ordinarily by the licensing division of the county in which the house was situated; or sometimes, under exceptional circumstances, by the whole county. the temperance party, although on the whole preferring _ad hoc_ boards, would gladly have accepted the proposals, but for the compensation clauses. over these a hot fight was made, and innumerable meetings were held all over the country against them. the licensed victuallers were at first also inclined to oppose the measure; but they soon realised that it would be on the whole a great gain to them. as mr. ritchie, the father of the bill, pointed out to a deputation, "we practically give you a vested interest by the bill". but the opposition to the objectionable clauses was too strong; and in june mr. w. h. smith announced, for the government, that the whole of the licensing section would be withdrawn. mr. goschen's compensation plan.--two years later a second attempt was made by the same government to legalise compensation. in the _local taxation (customs and excise) bill_ a scheme was formulated for the gradual reduction of public-houses. the main idea of this scheme was that each year the sum of £ , , raised by increased taxes of d. a barrel on malt liquors and d. a gallon on spirits, should be used for the buying up of licences for the purpose of extinction. of this sum, £ , was to go to england, £ , to scotland and £ , to ireland. in england and scotland the money was to be apportioned among the county councils, which would be permitted to buy up such licensed premises as they thought proper; in ireland the authority to be appointed was the national debt commissioners. no compulsory powers of purchase were given; but all purchases would have to be made by agreement with the owners of the houses, at prices and under conditions fixed by mutual arrangement. after the passing of the act, no new licences, except for eating-houses and refreshment-rooms, were to be granted unless the consent of the county councils had first been obtained, and even when new licences were granted, it was to be on the express understanding that their renewal might "at any time be refused at the free and unqualified discretion of the licensing authority". in bringing the bill before the house of commons mr. ritchie said: "i assure the house that the sole object which the government has in view is to promote temperance, and to help those who are endeavouring and who have so long endeavoured to battle against intemperance.... i have not the least intention of interfering with any powers now possessed by licensing magistrates.... our sole object has been to help temperance reformers, and to promote the cause of temperance." but temperance reformers did not see the matter quite in the same light as mr. ritchie; and the opposition to the proposals of was even stronger than to those of . the main objections were that the measure created a vested interest where none previously existed, and that the proposals for extinction were utterly and ridiculously inadequate. mr. caine, a prominent liberal unionist supporter of the government, resigned his seat in parliament as a protest against the scheme; and before many weeks had passed, the second attempt was sent the same way as the first. the money intended for the compensation of the publicans was devoted instead to technical education. lord randolph churchill's bill.--in the same month as the local taxation bill was introduced, lord randolph brought before the house of commons his scheme for amending the licensing laws. this plan was admittedly partly based on mr. bruce's bill of . the licensing authority was to be vested in the municipal authorities for boroughs and the county council for counties. these bodies were not only to have the right to license, but also to regulate the hours of closing on sundays and week-days. the power of direct veto was to be placed in the hands of the people, and in a parish where two-thirds of the ratepayers on the municipal rate book voted for prohibition, no licences were to be granted. beer shops were to be swept away, and the kinds of licences were to be reduced to two,--the full publican's licence and the refreshment-house wine and beer licence; and the rating qualification for a building used as a public-house was also to be considerably increased. clubs in which drink was consumed were to be registered and to pay fees ranging from s. a year for a working men's club to from £ to £ for the great west-end clubs. the noble lord was strongly in favour of compensation, and declared: "i hold that compensation for vested interests is an indispensable accompaniment to any scheme of licensing reform. any such reform not accompanied by compensation for vested interests would be sheer confiscation and robbery." but he did not deal with this detail in his bill, on the ground that it would entail taxation in some form or another; and it is not in the power of a private member of parliament to propose to the house taxation of any form or kind. lord randolph's measure met with a very favourable reception when introduced, but he did not proceed even to the second reading with it. the bishop of chester's bill.--in , dr. jayne, bishop of chester, brought before the public a modification of the gothenburg system that has since attracted a considerable amount of attention. he recognises that intemperance is far too common, and that our public-house system stands urgently in need of reform; but he believes that the use of alcoholic beverages must be accepted as inevitable, and that the best plan to adopt is not to seek to abolish the drink trade altogether, but to reform it. one of the great evils of the present system is that those who conduct public-houses have a direct pecuniary interest in selling the largest amount of drink possible; the bishop desires to change the object of the sellers from private profit to the public welfare. to do this he would have philanthropic companies formed, which should buy up all the public-houses in a district, have a monopoly of sale, and conduct the traffic for the public welfare. the companies would derive no profit from the sale, except a certain fixed amount of interest on the capital invested. in their houses (to quote dr. jayne's own description) "alcoholic beverages, though frankly recognised, will be disposed from their aggressive supremacy, and supplied under less seductive conditions. these conditions would, for example, be comfortable, spacious, well-ventilated accommodation; temperance drinks brought well to the front, invested with prestige, and supplied in the most convenient, attractive and inexpensive way; the pecuniary interests of the managers (_e.g._, in the form of bonus) made to depend entirely on the sale of eatables and non-alcoholic beverages; alcoholic liquors secured against adulteration; newspapers, indoor games, and, where practicable, outdoor games and music, provided; while the mere drink shop, the gin palace, and 'the bar'--that pernicious incentive to drinking for drinking's sake--would be utterly abolished." dr. jayne's first thought was that such houses might be managed by the county councils, but he soon saw that it would be better to place them in the hands of private companies. the methods by which he proposes that the companies should set to work may be best seen from an account given by him in the _daily graphic_ for th october, : "we are prepared to undertake the licensed victualling of your locality, paying to the dispossessed publicans such compensation as law and equity may require. we will at once reduce our houses to such number as the licensing authority may deem necessary; we will re-engage respectable publicans as managers on terms far more favourable to themselves, their families and the community, than managers now enjoy under the tied-house system. they will receive a fixed salary, with a bonus on the sale of eatables and non-alcoholic drinkables, but with absolutely no benefit from the sale of intoxicants. they will thus have no inducement to push the sale of alcohol, to drink with their customers, or to adulterate their liquors. as regards hours of closing and details of management we shall, within legal limits, be guided by local experience and opinion. our surplus profits will be applied to public, non-rate-aided objects, including the establishment of bright and attractive temperance houses, to which those who wish to keep quite clear of the temptations of alcohol in any shape may safely resort." in he incorporated these proposals in a bill which he brought before the house of lords. the measure was defeated on the second reading; but dr. jayne is still hopeful that parliament will grant the necessary powers for the attempt to be made where desired. would it not be better for some town to definitely decide to adopt the gothenburg system, and then go to parliament with a request for an authorisation to do so? such a demand is far more likely to be granted than a proposal that may be adopted anywhere or nowhere. if the method proved a success when first tried, there would be little difficulty in obtaining permission for other places to follow suit. the bishop of london's bill.--_the licensing boards bill_ may be taken as representing the plans of a moderate school of reformers. it was framed under the supervision of the church of england temperance society, and introduced into the house of lords in by dr. temple, bishop of london. the church of england temperance society differs in many ways from most temperance organisations. its social work is worthy of all praise, and its magnificent agencies for the rescue of criminals and inebriates are so well known as hardly to require mention. but in the matter of legislative action, this society does not take up the extreme attitude of such organisations as the united kingdom alliance. its membership contains a very large, if not a predominating conservative element; and hence its proposals deserve attention as being those of the members of a party usually not foremost in legislation of this kind. the bill brought forward by the bishop of london in proposed to transfer the power of granting all drink, billiard, music and dancing licences from the justices in each district to a specially elected licensing board. the board was to be elected triennially by persons on the local government register of electors, and the cost of such elections and other expenses of management were to be borne by the borough or county council. the board would have power to alter the hour of closing on week-days, and all licensed houses would be closed on sunday unless by special order of the board. even when the board sanctioned sunday opening, the houses would only be permitted to remain open for two hours, and could only sell drink for consumption off the premises. all clubs would have to be registered, fees being payable for such registration; and power would be given to the police to enter any club which they had reason to believe was carried on simply as a drinking club, and to charge the members found on the premises and the owner of the house before a magistrate. the principal provisions of the bill, however, would not come into effect until five years after the passing of the bill, when a large reduction of licences would take place compulsorily. this five years' term of grace was provided for as a kind of compensation. at the end of five years from the passing of the bill into law the following provisions would come into operation:-- (_a_) the only licences that are to be granted are (i.) a full publican's licence; (ii.) a wine and beer on licence for a refreshment house; (iii.) a wine and beer off licence; (iv.) a licence for an hotel; and (v.) a licence for a railway refreshment room, the two last being special forms of the publican's licence. after , therefore, the following kinds of licence will cease to be obtainable: (i.) the beer dealer's additional licence (off); (ii.) the beer retailer's on and off licences; (iii.) the cider and perry on and off licence; (iv.) the table beer retailer's licence (off); (v.) the wine retailer's on and off licences; and (vi.) the sweets retailer's on and off licences. none of these licences are required by a person holding a superior licence. (_b_) the board is to have full discretion to grant or not to grant any licence. after this provision comes into effect the present restrictions on the power to refuse certain licences, except on certain grounds, will cease. (_c_) licences, exclusive of hotels and railway refreshment rooms, are not to be granted in excess of a fixed proportion to the population of each district--one per in towns, one per in country--but proper notice is to be given to a licence holder before discontinuing his licence under this clause. (_d_) the value qualification of premises is raised. (_e_) a licensed person is not to carry on any other retail business on the licensed premises. the measure came before the house of lords for its second reading on the th may, . it met with a very unfavourable reception, and lord salisbury opposed it hotly as being "the wrong remedy for the evil we all deplore". at last dr. temple, seeing that it was perfectly evident the measure would be rejected by a considerable majority, consented to allow the motion to be negatived without a division. it is the intention of the church of england temperance society, however, to keep its bill as far as possible to the front, and to make persistent efforts to have it carried into law. local option.--few schemes of reform have been so unceasingly pushed as that for giving to localities the option of prohibition. forty years ago, when it was first brought before the british public, it was laughed at, and hardly deemed worthy of the serious notice of politicians; in it was introduced by the government to the house of commons; and to-day it has all the weight of one of the two great political parties behind it. whatever may be thought of the practical usefulness of such an option in the present state of public opinion, it is hardly possible to deny to the men who demand it a tribute of admiration for their persistency and pluck. on the st june, , the united kingdom alliance was founded for the purpose of securing "the total and immediate legislative suppression of the liquor traffic". its plan of operations was to secure for any locality that wishes it the right to prohibit the traffic in intoxicants there. eleven years after the formation of the alliance sir w. lawson introduced his famous permissive bill, embodying the demands of the alliance, to the house of commons. it was defeated by a majority of over seven to one; but in the majority against it was reduced to a little over two to one. in sir wilfrid changed his tactics; and instead of incurring the cost of introducing a bill year by year, he brought forward a resolution in favour of "some efficient measure of local option". in , before a full house, the resolution was at last carried by a majority of ; voting for, and against. it was expected that the liberal government then in force would do something to carry the resolution into effect; but nothing was done until , when sir william harcourt's much-debated local option bill was introduced. the provisions of this bill are very simple, and include two things,--the option of prohibition, and the option of sunday closing. it provided that on one-tenth of the local government electors in any division making the request in writing, a poll shall be taken as to whether all public-houses be closed there, or whether there shall be sunday closing. the latter proposal can be carried by a simple majority of those voting; but to secure entire prohibition there must be a majority of two-thirds. whatever way the electors decide would remain in force for three years; but at the end of that time the question might be re-opened by a similar petition, and a fresh poll held. but when prohibition had been carried it could only be repealed by a two-third vote against it. the electoral areas were very small, each ward in a borough divided into wards being a separate district. no compensation was provided; but the clauses for prohibition were not to come into effect until three years after the passing of the act. the prohibition was not to affect railway refreshment-rooms, hotels, or eating-houses. the bill caused considerable excitement; but there was a noticeable difference in its reception and in that accorded to mr. bruce's bill of . in the working men were on the whole opposed to restriction; in they were largely in favour of it. a demonstration called by "the trade" at trafalgar square against the bill was swamped by friends of it, who carried resolutions by overwhelming majorities in its favour. the change of attitude of the working classes is very likely partly due to political partisanship; but still it is a notable fact, and makes the way for temperance reform much smoother than it otherwise would have been. owing to the time taken up by the debate on the home rule bill, the government found it impossible to do more than introduce its local option measure in . it promised to proceed with it this session ( ); but at the time of writing it seems very improbable that this will be done. chapter iii. the problems of reform. four main problems have to be faced before any adequate scheme of licensing reform can be formulated. they are: ( ) compensation; ( ) of whom shall the licensing bodies consist? ( ) what is to be done with the clubs? ( ) shall "tied houses" be permitted? compensation.--this has been for many years the main block to reform. are publicans, when deprived of their licences through no fault of their own, entitled to compensation or not? for long there was considerable doubt as to the legal aspects of the matter. one party argued that as the publican has his licence granted for one year alone, and as the magistrates have power to refuse to renew such a licence, therefore the drink seller has no vested interest in its continuance, nor the slightest claim to compensation if its renewal is refused. on the other hand, it was said that while the justices have nominally the power of refusing the renewal of old licences, it is a strictly limited power that they never put into force except for wrong-doing on the part of the licensees; and that the custom has so long prevailed of regularly renewing the certificates of all publicans who behave properly, that an expectation of renewal has become universal; and that by virtue of custom they have a vested interest, and are entitled to compensation if renewal is refused. the legal aspects of the matter were finally cleared up in by the decision of the house of lords in the well-known case of "sharp _v._ wakefield". the magistrates of the kendal division of westmoreland refused, in september, , to renew the licence of an inn at kentmere on the grounds of the remoteness of the premises from police supervision, and the character and necessities of the locality. the owner of the house, susannah sharp, appealed to the quarter sessions, but that body upheld the magistrates. it was resolved by the drink interest to make this case a test one. their argument was that for the renewal of an existing licence the justices are not entitled to inquire into the character and wants of the neighbourhood, or to refuse a licence on the grounds that there is no longer a necessity for a licensed house there. the case was taken from court to court, and everywhere the decision of the magistrates was upheld. finally it came before the house of lords in january, ; and the judgment of their lordships was given in the following march. the five law-lords were unanimously of opinion that justices have the right to refuse the renewal of a licence if the circumstances of the neighbourhood or any other sufficient cause render it desirable. the legislature, their lordships stated, gave the magistrates an absolute discretion both for granting and renewing licences: and such discretion is to be exercised (to quote the lord chancellor) "according to the rules of reason and justice, within the limits to which an honest man, competent to the discharge of his office, ought to confine himself". this decision was a serious blow to the owners of licensed premises. it at once and for ever swept away all claims of a legal right to compensation, and showed that vested interests in licences are absolutely nonexistent. but the question still remains whether, although the publican has no legal claim to compensation, he is not morally entitled (under ordinary circumstances) to some consideration, if suddenly and through no fault of his own he is deprived of what he was for long encouraged to look upon as his right. it is felt by many that it would be a hardship to take from a well-behaved licensed victualler his means of livelihood without some consideration. whether this sentiment is right or not the writer of this book does not propose to discuss; but it undoubtedly exists, and the temperance party will gain nothing by shutting its eyes to it. on the one hand we have the claim of prohibitionists that no publican should have a penny from public funds as recompense for dispossession; on the other hand, there is the plea of the "trade" advocates, that he ought to have the full difference between the "trade" value of his house and its value as ordinary premises. the first of these seems rather harsh, and the second is certainly unreasonable. is there no _via media_? the unreasonableness of the second proposition may best be seen from the fact that in many towns a very large proportion of the public-houses do not pay their way. yet every one of these places is valued at a price far above its value as an ordinary business house; consequently, if the authorities were to pay the terms asked by the owners on closing them, they would actually be giving considerable sums for losing concerns. it may be asked why, if such houses do not clear their expenses, their proprietors keep them open year after year. the reasons are twofold: first, the houses are usually owned by brewers, who fear that if they abandon the licences, rival brewers may persuade the magistrates to grant additional licences in other parts of the place. secondly, the establishments are often used as traps for depriving the inexperienced of their stock of money. the process is very simple. a house owned by a brewer goes to the bad, custom falls off, and the receipts fail to cover the outgoings. thereupon the tenant is given notice to quit; and a salaried manager, skilled in the art of drawing custom, is placed in charge of it. this manager is usually a man well known in the neighbourhood, and with plenty of friends. he belongs to nearly all the friendly societies in the place, buffaloes, oddfellows, and the rest; he can give a tip on the coming race with any man, and he is "hail fellow, well met" with every tom, dick and harry. all his friends, of course, flock to patronise him; the brewer is careful to supply specially good drink; a pull over is given for every one's measure; and soon the takings of the house are increased enormously. then the place is advertised, and a novice is attracted by it. the brewer's agent shows him the books, and is able to prove that the business is going up by leaps and bounds; and so the novice is persuaded to pay, say £ in cash for the good-will, and take over the house. the manager who has drawn all the custom leaves; and his friends leave with him. the poor new publican soon finds that he is losing money every week, and before long he begins to get in debt to the brewer. this goes on until his debt amounts to the price he paid for the good-will. then the agent visits him, explains that as he is evidently not suited for the trade he had better go. the brewer will kindly allow the £ paid as good-will to go to cancel the debt; and the tenant must leave as quickly as possible. the house is then used for the fleecing of another novice; and so on. if any reader doubts the truth of this, let him consult some experienced publican who is not afraid to speak the truth, or let him notice in any moderate-sized town how often many of the smaller licensed houses are advertised as being "under new management". now, it cannot be said that the owners of such houses as these mentioned have the slightest equitable claim to any consideration. the only way to avoid paying money to such would be to base any scheme of pecuniary compensation _not on the artificial trade value of the house, but on the actual profits gained_, as shown by the books and vouchers of the place and by the publican's income-tax returns. a second limit to any scheme of compensation should be that no one, save the licence holder himself, should be entitled to any consideration. big brewing firms that have bought up large numbers of licences are well acquainted with the risks attaching to them. the british public may be anxious to treat the poor licensed victualler generously; but it will hardly sanction the appropriation by wealthy wholesale firms, that thrive by fostering public misery, of large sums of public money. this is the opinion of many by no means opposed to any compensation. mr. gladstone, in the house of commons ( th may, ), in speaking of this matter, declared: "this i must say, i cannot conceive any state of things in which the state authority would have the smallest duty or the smallest warrant for looking to anybody in these transactions, except the man with whom it deals--that is to say, the man to whom the licence is issued, and on whom it imposes its responsibility". in any plan of compensation the money should be raised from the publicans themselves. those remaining benefit by the closing of other houses; for there are fewer shops selling drink, and therefore those left get more custom. this has already been done successfully in victoria by means of increased licence fees, etc. as the publicans have no legal claim to consideration it cannot be expected that any scheme for their compensation will be permanent. it will rather provide for a softening to them of a time of transition. within these limits, surely some practicable scheme can be formulated. the following, while dealing liberally with the keepers of licensed houses, would yet be an advance on the present position. let it be arranged that for ten years the men at present holding licences shall be allowed to retain them; and if during those years the authorities wish to close any public-houses they shall pay the holders compensation based on the following scale: during the first two years, five years' purchase, reckoned on the average profits of the previous three years; during the third and fourth years, four years' profits; during the fifth and sixth years, three years' profits, and so on till at the end of the tenth year no compensation would be payable. the funds for such payments to be raised by increased licensing fees and an extra tax on liquor. no money to be paid to any person but the licence holder himself. at the end of the ten years the number of houses could be reduced to a fixed scale, say one for every or of population. the principal objectors to such a compromise would probably be the teetotalers. but they would do well to consider whether it will not hasten forward the coming of that sober england for which we all long if some method can be found of breaking through the present intolerable deadlock. there is nothing opposed to temperance in granting compensation. it is merely a matter of policy, not of principle: though, to hear some reformers talk, it might be imagined that the idea of partly recompensing licence holders for their loss involves some terrible wrong. both sir wilfrid lawson and mr. caine have in the past admitted that a compromise about compensation might be worth considering. in the house of commons ( th march, ) sir w. lawson said: "honourable members tell me that there ought to be something about compensation in my resolution. if i would only do that they would find it in their hearts to vote for me. now i do not want to condemn compensation, but this is not the question which is before the house. the question is, whether it is right to force these houses upon an unwilling neighbourhood; and if it cannot be done without compensation, let us have compensation. i am very sure that if ever my resolution is crystallised into an act of parliament this house will never refuse a fair demand from any body of men." mr. caine, in talking to a _pall mall gazette_ interviewer, said, when dealing with the compensation proposals of the church temperance society: "the time plan would work in this way: you might give to all old licences a definite lease of life, ten years being the utmost limit conceivable.... at the close of the ten years' term licences would be granted for one year only, and no compensation whatever would be granted in case of extinction.... (it) would present to temperance reformers the attractive and important feature of finality. it certainly demands most careful consideration on all hands." mr. chamberlain, in , proposed terms very similar to these. his idea, when discussing the buying up of licensed premises in order to commence municipal public-houses, was that compensation should be paid to the licence holder alone at the rate of five years' profit, based on the average profits of the previous three years. truth compels the admission, however, that mr. chamberlain's views on this point have greatly altered in recent years. in writing to me in april, , he said:--"further consideration has convinced me that the method of compensation proposed by me in would not be the best guide to a fair settlement, and that it would be impossible to ignore the interests of other persons besides the licensed holder. i think now that the best way would be to submit all claims to an official arbitrator, who would be instructed to give for the property such sum as would be given by a willing buyer to a willing seller in the open market--in other words, the fair market price." licensing bodies.--of whom should the licensing bodies consist? there are three different kinds of bodies proposed: (_a_) the magistrates, as at present; (_b_) county and town councils; (_c_) elective boards _ad hoc_. the magistrates have for long carried out the necessary duties; and in the country parts they have done as well as could be expected. in towns, more particularly in small boroughs, their rule has not worked quite so satisfactorily. occasional charges of being influenced by pecuniary considerations in the performance of their duties have been brought against them; but such charges are so very rare that direct bribery may be said to be practically unknown. but magistrates in small boroughs are often influenced by some very extra-judicial considerations. many of them are small tradesmen, appointed for political reasons. they are well acquainted with the brewer who is at the back of the application for a licence, and possibly have business transactions with him: naturally they do not care to offend him, and so a licence is often granted when it ought not to be. the licensing authority is altogether outside the usual province of the magistrate's duties, which should be purely judicial. it has never been found satisfactory to unite judicial and executive functions in one body; and jurists are agreed that this should be avoided; yet while they are the licensing authority the magistrates are both administrators and judges. but the principal objection to magistrates is that they are not in the least representative, and can do as they please entirely irrespective of the public. a proposal favoured by many statesmen is that of taking the duty of issuing licences from the magistrates and placing it in the hands of county and borough councils. a representative body would thus be secured; but the result of this would simply be to ruin many of the councils. the liquor question would swallow up every other in public estimation, like a veritable joseph's rod. men would be elected solely because of their views on licensing reform. the publicans would appoint their candidates, and the teetotalers theirs; and both parties would have a pitched battle at almost every election. many good administrators, rather than face such contests, would remain outside, and the whole tone of the councils would be lowered. the most practicable plan of securing a popular licensing authority seems to be the election of boards specially for this one purpose, as school boards are elected for the management of elementary schools. the area which such boards control should not be too small and particular care would have to be taken to prevent those pecuniarily interested in the traffic getting on them. but it must be remembered that no change in the _personnel_ of the licensing authority will effect much, and it is possible that any change may do harm. a representative body will be more liable to be influenced by outside consideration than are the justices; and the boards in some places will favour the drink sellers more than the magistrates do now. this consideration has induced some reformers to advocate leaving the administration in the hands of the present authorities, but limiting their power by a direct popular control over the issuance of new licences. clubs.--no licensing reform, however complete the restraints it places on public-houses, will accomplish much unless at the same time it deals with the club evil. in the ordinary drinking club we have something far more dangerous to society than the worst-conducted public-house. reformers were for long so absorbed in fighting the open drink shop, that they had no time for attending to anything else; and statesmen of all parties dreaded arousing against themselves the opposition which they knew would follow the curtailing of any of the privileges of club-land. the result is that there is to-day in every large town a considerable and rapidly increasing number of drinking dens, subject to no control, paying no fees, requiring no licences, and allowed to keep open all day and every day, sunday and week-day alike. with the genuine club no one wishes to meddle; but the majority of places which go under this name are nothing but drinking and gambling hells, and are usually financed by, and run for the profit of, some brewer. within ten years their number has increased almost tenfold, and from all parts of the land comes the same tale of the mischief they are doing. some months ago, the dublin corporation sent a petition to the government in which it said: "we view with alarm and dismay the rapid increase of bogus drinking clubs in all parts of the city; in our opinion these clubs are a prolific source of poverty, crime, and disorder; they are instrumental in depreciating the ratable value of property wherever they are established; and the laws which allow, without let or hindrance, their degrading operations at all hours of the night and of the day, are a disgrace to civilisation." the corporation urged the government to introduce a measure "that will be effective in grappling with this degrading and pestiferous evil". at cardiff the notorious "field clubs," formed solely and avowedly for the purpose of supplying their members with ale on sundays, and so setting the sunday closing act at defiance, were able to carry on business for some time without any hindrance from the police. a case which shows even more clearly than this how our licensing system is being reduced to little better than a mere farce, was mentioned last year in the house of commons. the licence of a certain village public-house had been taken away because of the misconduct of the publican, and because the place was not required. thereupon the brewer who owned the building opened it as a club, making the former publican manager. the rules were carefully drawn up, with the aid of counsel, to keep the house open to as many as possible; an entrance fee of a few pence was fixed; and the club was in a position to accommodate almost all its old customers. it had not to observe any of the regulations imposed on the regular drink shops, and consequently did twice as much business as before its licence was taken away. such instances might be multiplied indefinitely, but there is no need; for to all who know anything of the inner life of our great cities these things are commonplaces. how to deal with these bogus establishments, and yet not at the same time to unduly interfere with genuine clubs, has become an urgent and serious question. the royal commission on the sunday closing (wales) act recommended that all clubs where intoxicating liquors are sold should be registered with the local authority, and that the register should be open for the inspection of the police. the commission was also strongly of opinion that "clubs which exist only for the purpose of supplying drink, or only colourably for some other purpose, should be declared absolutely illegal". when lord randolph churchill brought his licensing scheme before the house of commons, he incorporated with it clauses for the registration and taxation of clubs, as has already been described in the previous chapter. the bishop of london's bill in contained similar clauses, but neither measure ever got beyond the initial stages. _the clubs registration bill_, as amended by a select committee of the house of commons last year, provided ( ) that every club (with certain strictly defined exceptions) selling intoxicating liquors on unlicensed premises must be registered; ( ) that it shall only be managed in accordance with its registered constitution; and ( ) that an annual return shall be made of the members of the club. there were further provisions forbidding the sale of any drink to be taken from the club premises, preventing any person under eighteen years old becoming a member of the club, and limiting the number of honorary members to one for every twenty ordinary members. the bill applied only to england, and was admitted by its supporters to be miserably inadequate; but it would have been a great improvement, had it passed into law, on the present state of affairs. however, it went the usual way of bills in that barren session. happily our colonies can teach us something on this matter. during the last nine years there has been an extremely simple yet very practical clause in the victorian licensing law dealing with clubs. it provides that every _bonâ-fide_ association that was formed before the passing of the act should be regarded as a club; but that any club established afterwards must, in order to obtain the right to supply its members with intoxicants, consist of "not less than fifty members, united for the purpose of providing accommodation for and conferring privileges and advantages upon the members thereof". such accommodation has to be provided from the funds of the club, and no person is allowed to get any benefit from the club which may not be shared equally by every member. all clubs have to be registered, and their certificates may be withdrawn at any time by the licensing board. in the licensed victuallers' amendment act, brought before the south australian parliament in , more elaborate provisions were made for meeting the club difficulty. clubs numbering not less than fifty members in adelaide, or not less than twenty-five in other parts, are exempt from the ordinary licensing act, so far as selling to their own members goes, provided the following conditions exist:-- . the club must be established upon premises of which such association or company are the _bonâ-fide_ occupiers, and maintained from the joint funds of the club; and no persons must be entitled under its rules to derive any benefit or profit from the club or for the sale of liquors which is not shared equally by every other member. . it must have been proved to the satisfaction of the licensing bench at an annual or quarterly meeting that the club is such an association or company as in this section is defined, and that the premises of the club are suitable for the purpose. . it must be proved to the satisfaction of the licensing bench that such club has a committee of management, and that some person has been appointed by them steward or manager. the club is obliged to pay an annual registration fee of £ , and to obtain a certificate from the clerk of the licensing district; such certificate being withdrawable if any of the conditions under which it is issued are broken. on some such lines as these we must look for the solution of the club problem in england. any measure to be really effective must provide, first, that proprietary clubs and clubs financed by those interested in the sale of drink shall be treated exactly the same as public-houses. the various regulations given in _the clubs registration bill_ should be retained, but the certificate of registration should only be obtainable after the licensing justices are satisfied as to the genuine character of the association, and have ascertained that it is established primarily for some other purpose than the supply of intoxicants. as clubs cause a decided diminution in the revenue obtained from licensed houses, it seems reasonable that they should be subject to a special excise tax, graduated somewhat after the manner provided in lord randolph churchill's bill. tied houses.--during recent years it has become more and more common for brewers to own public-houses, and to make the holders of the licences nominees of their own, dismissable at will. in many towns over four-fifths of the drink shops are either owned or controlled by brewers or wholesale spirit merchants. year by year the wholesale firms are driven by competition to purchase more and more houses; and soon it will be difficult to find establishments in which the nominal publican is master of his own business. it was manifestly the intention of parliament, in passing the various licensing acts, to make the managers of licensed houses responsible persons, who would have some stake in the business, and to whose interest it would be to strictly observe the law; but by the "tied-house" system all this is changed. through it the licensee is but little better than a man of straw, and the real controller is the brewer. there are two principal ways in which the wholesale firms "tie" a house. the first is as follows: a man with a small amount of capital wishes to take a public-house. the price of the good-will, stock and fittings of the place is, say, £ . the would-be publican has only £ , but a brewer agrees to lend him £ , and a spirit merchant £ , on condition that he binds himself to deal solely off them for his liquors. this is the least objectionable method. the other way is for the brewer to be the owner of the public-house, and the publican his tenant. the latter pays a certain amount, varying according to the value of the house, as good-will; and it is stipulated that he shall deal off the brewer for all his malt liquors. he is usually liable to dismissal at a very short notice; and it is an understood thing that if the trade of the house drops at all he will have to leave. he must push his business at any cost and by any means. most of the breaches of the law committed by publicans are due to this; for the unhappy licensed victualler has often no choice except between fostering his trade by illegal methods or getting notice to quit. it might be thought that it is hardly to the interest of the brewers to risk losing the licences in order to do a somewhat larger trade; but those who argue thus are not acquainted with the working of the law. let us suppose a case typical of many. a publican is convicted before the magistrates on some very serious charge, say that of harbouring improper characters; and his licence is endorsed. it may be mentioned, in passing, that most magistrates refuse to endorse a licence except an offence is very grave or frequently repeated. at the next licensing sessions the case comes on, and the justices demur at renewing the certificate. the lawyer for the owners then addresses them somewhat in this way. "the house in question," he says, "is owned by the well-known firm of messrs. grey & black. they had not the slightest idea that their tenant was guilty of such conduct as was unhappily proved, and they greatly regret it. it is their wish to keep their houses respectable, and they do all in their power to accomplish this. in this case, immediately the licence holder was convicted they gave him notice to quit. the good-will of the house has been sold to mr. tom brown for a substantial consideration, and the old tenant who was convicted has no longer any interest in the place. mr. brown is a _most_ respectable man; and i can bring forward unimpeachable witnesses, gentlemen well known to you, who will testify to this fact. now, gentlemen, i cannot deny that you have the power to refuse the licence if you wish; but i would venture to point out to you that by doing so you would punish, not the man whose wrongdoing we all condemn, but messrs. grey & black who own the premises, and mr. tom brown who has bought the good-will. mr. brown, though he has done nothing wrong, will be the loser of a very considerable sum by such a refusal. you will, perhaps, permit me to say, gentlemen, with all deference to your judgment, that such a course would not be in accordance with justice, nor with the honourable traditions that have always distinguished this bench." in nineteen cases out of twenty the magistrates agree that it would be rather hard on brown to refuse; and accordingly they grant the renewal. the risks of losing a licence are so small that they are hardly worth taking into consideration. first of all, there is very little probability of the police proceeding against a house, except when compelled by outside pressure. then, when the police do proceed and secure a conviction, the licence is not usually endorsed. even after endorsement, a judicious change of tenants can be made; and so the licence retained. the system of "tied houses" is bad for every one except the brewer. it is bad for the publican, for it reduces him from master of his own house to a servant of the wholesale firms. he has to take such liquor as they please, and pay the price they demand for it. it is a recognised custom in the trade for some if not all of the brewers to charge their "tied" customers more than they do the free. the plan is bad for the public. in place of the main business of the publican being to satisfy his customers, it is to retain the good-will of the owner of the house. in a district where one firm controls all the houses, there is no longer competition between the different publicans as to which shall sell the best drink, for all sell the same; and the brewer is able to palm off his worst brews on the people there. last, but chief of all, it is bad for good order and for the general well-being. the licensed victualler, being placed in such a position, is too often willing to adopt risky methods for attracting custom, which he would not venture to employ had he a substantial stake in the house. by this he not only injures the character of his own premises, but compels his rivals, who own free houses, to imitate him in order that they may not lose their trade. and so the whole method of conducting business in the neighbourhood is lowered. the _times_ cannot be accused of teetotal bias; and an utterance by it on this matter will command weight. "the natural tendency of a brewer is simply to push the sale of his beer," said that journal in a leading article on th september, . "provided no forfeiture of the licence be incurred, the especial manner in which the business is conducted does not matter much to him. his main desire is that the neighbourhood shall drink as much as possible. his servant, the publican, who has little or no property invested in the premises, has no strong personal motive for caution. he wishes to ingratiate himself with his employer by promoting a liberal consumption. the fear of risking the licence affects him far less than if it meant for him positive commercial ruin. from the point of view even of the customers, it has been felt that a spread of the monopoly of brewers is inconvenient. when a brewer is absolute master of a house he can, unchallenged, supply it with bad or unwholesome liquors.... practical experience, at all events, has created a keen jealousy of the system of tied houses, and a determination to make a stand against its unlimited predominance.... where the function of a court is the commission to certain persons to conduct a trade under its supervision, its manifest duty is to see that its delegates are free agents. a publican who can be ejected at once, or be subjected to ruinous penalties, if he exercise the least liberty of choice of his stock, and unless he accept any trash a brewer consigns to him, is a cipher." a remedy lies all ready in the hands of the licensing justices, if they would only use it. nothing would be easier than for them to demand the production of all agreements under which the publicans are occupiers of their houses, and to refuse (after due notice) to grant the renewal of the licence of any house in which the tenant is not a _bonâ-fide_ free agent. but there is little prospect of the licensing justices doing this until they are compelled. the most practicable remedy seems to be a short act of parliament, providing that in no case is a licensed victualler to enter into any contracts which will make him responsible to any but the licensing authority for the conduct of his house; and that it shall be illegal for him to bind himself to purchase his stock in whole or part from any particular firm or firms. it should be forbidden for brewers or wholesale spirit merchants to own all or part of any public-houses. it might be further provided that the licensing authority is to satisfy itself that the publican is genuinely a free agent before granting or renewing his licence. such an act would no doubt receive considerable opposition from many brewers, though even to some of them it would not be unwelcome. the present method compels them to sink a vast amount of capital in buying up licences, and gives the small brewer (who possibly produces better drink than his wealthier rivals) little chance of competing against the great firms. to the majority of publicans such a law would be acceptable, for it would raise their position and increase their profits. and the gain to public order would be greater than that which is likely to result from many more ambitious schemes. chapter iv. the path of progress. the problem of licensing reform, as every one who has given it even the most cursory attention will readily admit, is by no means an easy one. whatever step may be proposed is certain to excite the opposition of many. it is impossible for even the most astute statesman to formulate a plan that will receive the assent and approval of extremists of either school. almost every one, liberal or conservative, admits that the present state of affairs is wholly unsatisfactory, and that it demands immediate treatment. under it we have a vastly excessive number of public-houses, a weak system of supervision, and an entire lack of local control. the publican who wishes to carry on his business decently and respectably often finds it impossible to do so without heavy pecuniary sacrifice, on account of his more unscrupulous licensed rivals, who are willing to descend to any tricks to increase their trade. the whole system of licensing is based on the personal caprices of individual magistrates rather than on any uniform plan. for many years all these things have been admitted and deplored. for at least a quarter of a century statesmen have declared that the present state of the law is disgraceful, and cannot be permitted to longer continue. yet it still remains the same. can nothing be done? are the imagined interests of a small body of rich men to over-ride the welfare of the whole nation? it almost seems as though our legislators had resigned themselves to this. one thing at least is certain. no sweeping change has any hope, at least for the present, of coming into law. a drastic licensing bill, into which one of the great political parties put all its strength, might pass the house of commons, but would inevitably be defeated by the lords. the body which rejected without a division the bishop of london's bill, and which mutilated the non-partisan irish sale of intoxicating liquors bill, will show but little consideration for any thorough-going schemes. reformers of one school reply: "then let us abolish the house of lords". this is very easy to say; but if we have to wait for licensing reform until the lords are abolished, then there is not much hope for improvement in this generation. a more politic course would seem to be the carrying of temperance legislation by piecemeal. little by little the law may be changed; glaring anomalies may be removed, manifest injustices altered, until at last, while our liquor laws will not be theoretically perfect, they may at least be made reasonably workable. the following suggestions as to the lines which such alterations might take contain nothing that has not been approved by many members of parliament of both parties. . it is generally admitted that there are far too many public-houses. no doubt it would be found very difficult to reduce the number of those already licensed, but there should be little trouble in preventing the issuance of new licences. let it be enacted that in no case shall a person be permitted to apply for a public-house licence unless he has previously obtained the signatures of one half of the resident electors in the immediate neighbourhood to a petition requesting such a licence. even when such signatures have been obtained, the magistrates would still retain their option of refusal. . the second reform has already been before the house of commons. let every district have the option of sunday closing, as provided in the _liquor traffic (local control) bill_, . to this might well be added the choice of keeping the houses open on sundays for two hours only. . let the appeal to quarter sessions in case of the refusal of the renewal of licences be abolished, except for manifest illegality on the part of the local licensing session. at present the licensing magistrates in many parts will not use their unquestioned power of refusing unnecessary licences, because they are aware that their decision is almost certain to be reversed at the quarter sessions. the county magistrates, knowing nothing of local needs, continually over-ride the deliberate judgment of the local justices. . have a system of supervision of public-houses entirely independent of local control, as proposed by mr. bruce in . those who have carefully watched the working of the present laws know that the police do no part of their work so inefficiently as the control of public-houses. this is due to two causes--bribery, and the power of the drink sellers in local government. the bribes received by the police are usually very small, and no doubt many constables look upon them as their regular perquisites. the man on the beat knows where he will find a pot of beer left out for him on a hot day; and he would be more than human if he did not look on the doings of the publican with a kindly eye after quenching his thirst with the publican's liquor. but this securing the good-will of the police is comparatively unimportant, and is practically incapable of legal proof. a far more serious thing is the influence steadily brought to bear on the police in many small municipalities, to cause them to refrain from proceeding against certain public-houses. the municipal police are solely dependent for pay and promotion on the local watch committee and the town council. the council is often largely controlled by the men who own the public-houses. now the most obtuse policeman well understands that if he were to lay information against the manager of a house owned by a town councillor, or by the head of one of the local political associations, it would make his prospects of advancement no brighter. he might be praised by the papers for his zeal; but when a chance of promotion came up, he would be passed over for some one else. this is no imaginary danger. many who have tried to secure the better enforcement of licensing laws in towns know well that too often the police will not move further than they are compelled, and then they will do as little as is compatible with appearances. if there were public-house inspectors entirely independent of local influence, and frequently moved from place to place, a great improvement in the management of many licensed premises would at once be apparent. the law-abiding publican would have a better chance of success, and would not be handicapped in the way he is at present. . let all public-houses be closed on municipal and parliamentary election days. other urgently needed reforms, such as the control of clubs, and the abolition of tied houses, have been described in preceding chapters, and need not be recapitulated here. * * * * * i feel that i would be untrue to my own convictions if i closed this volume without a final word to those who have followed me so far. i have tried to treat the subject calmly and dispassionately; and zealous reformers may possibly complain (as some have already complained of those parts published in periodical form) that my tone is cold and unsympathetic. i can only assure them that it is from no lack of earnest desire to promote true temperance. but the cause of reform will not be advanced by special pleading, or by that impetuous enthusiasm which leads men to overlook facts in order to give a reasonable air to their theories. the first work of a reformer should be to master his facts, and to discover what lessons the experiments and the mistakes of those who have preceded him can teach. we are often told that it is impossible to make men sober by act of parliament; and no doubt all legislation that seeks to suppress evil has to fight against strong opposition. but do those who so lightly quote this empty aphorism ever seriously resolve to persuade men to be sober by other means? or are they content to let a smart phrase run glibly from their lips as an excuse for doing nothing? to-day we are face to face with a gigantic evil that is destroying much that is brightest and fairest in our national life. to all who have any notion of patriotism, to all who have any real desire for the welfare of the people, and especially to all to whom the commands of the carpenter of nazareth are something more than mere words,--the call comes to take their part in the battle for its suppression. how are we to work, each man must decide for himself; but none of us can shirk the manifest duty of doing something, and of doing our best, without wrong. it is admitted that acts of parliament can help in promoting sobriety only so far as they are backed up by a strong public sentiment, and by the earnest endeavours of the people. legislation can remove temptation, it can make virtue easier; but it cannot do everything. along with it must go steady work for the brightening of every-day life, for the easing of conditions of labour, for improving the dwellings of the poor, for raising the moral tone, for the realisation by all of the sacredness of this life, and the need to make the most of its opportunities. as we survey the forces against us in this fight, we may sometimes be inclined to despair of its issue. on the side of intemperance and self-indulgence are great resources of wealth, power, self-interest, and unscrupulousness. shall we conquer, or is the wrong to triumph over us? the words of a great thinker, written on another subject, best give the answer: "the ultimate issue of the struggle is certain. if any one doubts the general preponderance of good over evil in human nature, he has only to study the history of moral crusades. the enthusiastic energy and self-devotion with which a great moral cause inspires its soldiers always have prevailed, and always will prevail, over any amount of self-interest or material power arrayed on the other side."[ ] appendix i. the condition of working men in maine. the _fifth annual report of the bureau of industrial and labour statistics for maine_ (augusta, ) gives a set of very full returns from which it is possible to ascertain the exact position of working men under prohibition. a personal canvass was made of working men of all classes, the unskilled and lower paid, as well as the best and highest paid. space will not permit me to quote more than a brief _résumé_. "the following is a general summary of some of the more important statistics derived from the reports of working men. whole number of reports, ; number american born, ; number foreign born, ; number owning homes, ; value of homes, , dollars; number of homes mortgaged, ; amount of mortgages, , dollars; number renting, ; number having savings bank accounts, ; number who have accumulated savings in former years, ; during past year, ; run into debt during past year, ; neither gained nor lost during past year, ." of men with families, the average annual income was dollars cent per family yearly. the average annual income of single working men was dollars cent, and of single working women, dollars cents. the amounts saved from income averaged, men with families, per cent., single men, per cent., and single women, per cent. appendix ii. the gin act, . whereas the excessive drinking of spirituous liquors by the common people tends not only to the destruction of their health, and the debauching of their morals, but to public ruin: for remedy thereof-- be it enacted, that from the th september no person shall presume, by themselves or any others employed by them, to sell or retail any brandy, rum, arrack, usquebaugh, geneva, aqua vitæ, or any other distilled spirituous liquors, mixed or unmixed, in any less quantity than two gallons, without first taking out a licence for that purpose within ten days at least before they sell or retail the same; for which they shall pay down £ , to be renewed ten days before the year expires, paying the like sum; and in case of neglect to forfeit £ ; such licences to be taken out within the limits of the penny post at the chief office of excise, london, and at the next chief office of excise for the country. and be it enacted, that for all such spirituous liquors as any retailers shall be possessed of on or after the th september, , there shall be paid a duty of s. per gallon, and so on in proportion for a greater or lesser quantity above all other duties charged on the same. the collecting the rates by this act imposed to be under the management of the commissioners and officers of excise by all the excise laws now in force (except otherwise provided by this act); and all monies arising by the said duties or licences for sale thereof shall be paid into the receipt of his majesty's exchequer, distinctly from other branches of the public revenue; one moiety of the fines, penalties and forfeitures to be paid to his majesty and successors, the other to the person who shall inform on any one for the same. footnotes: [ ] _a report on marriage and divorce in the united states_, by carroll d. wright, commission of labour. revised edition, washington, . [ ] mr. c. w. jones, inspector of prisons and gaols, maine, to whom i am indebted for these figures, adds that the increase in commitments in recent years "is not because those crimes are on the increase, but because of the better enforcement of our laws relating to those crimes". [ ] _the report of commissioner of internal revenue_, pp. - . washington, . there are no returns available for any year after , as since then maine has ceased to be reckoned as a separate district for revenue purposes. [ ] for many of these particulars about the condition of affairs in iowa in i am indebted to the _toronto globe_ for november and december, . this journal, with enterprise that is deserving of all commendation, sent two representatives, one an avowed prohibitionist and the other opposed to prohibition, to iowa and kansas, in order to gather full particulars of the results obtained from the liquor laws there. the two commissioners, messrs. j. e. atkinson and j. a. ewan, performed their mission excellently, and their reports are of more than temporary value. i may, however, add that i have by no means solely depended on the reports of these gentlemen in ascertaining the condition of iowa. other accounts, from varied sources, all tend to show the disgraceful and deplorable condition of this state under the law that failed. [ ] this statement was made before the royal commission on the liquor traffic. at the time of writing this, the official reports of the evidence given before the commission are not yet issued; consequently, i am obliged to rely on the somewhat abridged accounts given in the canadian daily papers. [ ] _montreal daily star_, th december, . [ ] _victorian alliance annual_ for , melbourne. [ ] this translation is taken from the special report of the united states commissioner of labour on _the gothenburg system of liquor traffic_, washington, . i would here acknowledge my very deep indebtedness to this volume for many of the statistics contained in this chapter. dr. gould's work is unquestionably the fullest and most accurate book on the subject in the english language, or, as far as i am aware, in any other. [ ] it is well known that the number of arrests for drunkenness is no adequate guide to the amount of intoxication. speaking in the house of commons, th march, , on this point, mr. chamberlain said: "i have come to the conclusion that for our purpose police statistics are no good at all. as an evidence of this i will mention something with which i am acquainted in birmingham. on a certain saturday the number of persons arrested for drunkenness and brought before the magistrates was said to be --that was the total number of drunken cases credited, or rather, as i should say, debited to the town, according to the police statistics. during three hours of that same saturday night, thirty-five houses in different parts of the town, beer houses, spirit shops and shops of other descriptions, were watched by different persons appointed for the purpose; and these persons reported that during those three hours males and females came out of those shops; and, out of these numbers, of the male persons there were drunk, and females in the same state. there is a total of drunken persons, alleged to have been seen coming out of houses in three hours; while the police returns only reported for the day." [ ] mr. goldwin smith. social science series. _scarlet cloth, each s. d._ . work and wages. prof. j. e. thorold rogers. "nothing that professor rogers writes can fail to be of interest to thoughtful people."--_athenæum._ . civilisation: its cause and cure. edward carpenter. "no passing piece of polemics, but a permanent possession."--_scottish review._ . quintessence of socialism. dr. schÄffle. "precisely the manual needed. brief, lucid, fair and wise."--_british weekly._ . darwinism and politics. d. g. ritchie, m.a. (oxon.). new edition, with two additional essays on human evolution. "one of the most suggestive books we have met with."--_literary world._ . religion of socialism. e. belfort bax. . ethics of socialism. e. belfort bax. "mr. bax is by far the ablest of the english exponents of socialism."--_westminster review._ . the drink question. dr. kate mitchell. "plenty of interesting matter for reflection."--_graphic._ . promotion of general happiness. prof. m. macmillan. 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