THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 BIHT . of CAUF. . tOS
 
 The 
 Taste of Apples 
 
 By JENNETTE LEE 
 
 Author of " Uncle William," " Happy Island," Etc. 
 
 With Three Illustrations 
 By F. WALTER TAYLOR 
 
 A. L BURT COMPANY, PUBLISHERS 
 
 114420 East Twenty-third Street - - New York 
 
 PUBLISHED BY ARRANGEMENT WITH DODD, MEAD & COMPANY
 
 COPTKIGHT, 1918 BY 
 
 THE CURTIS PUBLISHING COMPANY, 
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1913. BY 
 DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY, 
 
 Published, September, 1913
 
 TO 
 GrERALD STANLEY LEE 
 
 21.31030
 
 THE SHOP WHERE NOTHING COULD HAPPEN 
 
 THE light in the little shop was dim. The 
 shoemaker's fat assistant scowled at it, and got 
 up and hunted for a match and lighted the gas- 
 jet on the wall. The light sprang suddenly 
 out on the littered room, and the three men 
 across the room, bending close over a checker- 
 board, looked up and blinked as it flickered 
 down. One of them put out his hand to the 
 board, and held it a minute, and drew it back 
 and stroked a little grey fringe of beard that de- 
 pended from his chin. The other two men 
 laughed a little, sitting shrewdly back; then they 
 bent again to the board. The fat assistant 
 stitched glumly on. 
 
 The room was full of dancing shadows now. 
 They fell on the scraps of leather on the floor 
 and on dusty corners and windows and cobwebs, 
 and they danced a little on the shoemaker's
 
 2 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 empty bench, worn black and shiny with the 
 polish of years, and ran along his hat and coat, 
 hanging on the peg by the door. The shoe- 
 maker had left his bench almost guiltily, two 
 hours ago, and had stolen over to the checker- 
 board. He had not stirred since, except to 
 reach out a thin hand to dispose of a doomed 
 man or to checkmate the little grey beard that 
 wagged opposite him. The third man, a hand 
 on either knee, looked down, as Jove may have 
 looked upon the Trojans and their enemies, and 
 gave a mighty nod as the battle went either 
 way. 
 
 The fat assistant took up his awl and scowled 
 at it and stabbed it once or twice in the leather, 
 and stuck it upright in the bench beside him, 
 and drew another waxed needleful through the 
 holes, his mouth growing more and more puck- 
 ered and screwed-up, with each heavy pull 
 of the waxed thread through the holes. He 
 glanced across at the bent heads and got up, 
 fumbling a little at the strings of his big apron, 
 and cast it from him, and took down his hat and
 
 NOTHING COULD HAPPEN 3 
 
 went darkly out. The three men looked up 
 blankly as the little whiff of air slammed past 
 them. Then they returned to the board, and 
 quiet settled on the room. 
 
 The grey beard wagged twice, once in pro- 
 test and once in resignation; he drew a heavy 
 sigh. Then he bent to the board, fingering the 
 pieces a little and shoving them about. "If I'd 
 'a' moved here, you wouldn't 'a' done it!" he 
 said triumphantly. 
 
 "Huh!" said the large man partly in aston- 
 ishment, partly incredulous ; he bent ponderously 
 down to look. 
 
 The shoemaker nodded slowly toward the grey 
 beard that perked out across the board at him. 
 "I see it, Simon, after I'd moved I see it; yes, 
 you could 'a' took me if you'd moved that way." 
 The shoemaker's thin fingers hovered over the 
 pieces, setting the men back in their rows. "We 
 might try again, Simon " 
 
 Then he looked up. The door had opened 
 almost timidly. The shoemaker got up and 
 went forward. The young girl handed him a
 
 4 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 hastily-wrapped parcel and stood waiting. The 
 shoemaker's long fingers pulled at the string and 
 tore aside the paper a pair of worn, girlish 
 shoes lay in his hand. He looked at them and 
 turned them over on the palm of his long, thin 
 hand and looked at the girl. 
 
 "Can they be mended, Mr. Wickham?" she 
 asked quickly. 
 
 The shoemaker stood considering the worn 
 things. The flickering gaslight, as he bent over 
 them, fell full on his face. It was a thin face, 
 with a little lock of hair that was not quite a 
 curl rising straight up from the forehead and a 
 faintly-grey moustache shading the quiet lips; 
 the eyes followed the lines of the shoes and his 
 fingers touched them here and there then he 
 looked at the girl with a little smile. "When did 
 you want them'?" he asked. 
 
 Her face lightened. "I'm glad they can 
 be mended. I thought they might be too 
 bad " 
 
 "Never too late to mend," said the old man 
 smiling and fingering the shoes almost as if
 
 NOTHING COULD HAPPEN 5 
 
 their very frailties pleased him. "We'll put 
 new soles on them and half -heels, and a little 
 patch here it will hardly show when it is done. 
 When do you need them 1 ?" he asked again. He 
 looked at her over his light glasses. 
 
 "Saturday ? Could I have them Satur- 
 day?' 
 
 "Saturday afternoon," he nodded slowly, 
 "about four o'clock, I should think. Yes, we'll 
 get them done for you." 
 
 He carried them across to his bench and the 
 girl went out. There was a little lingering 
 tingle of the bell above the door, but the shoe- 
 maker did not look up ; his eyes were on the shoes 
 in his hand, studying their possibilities ... he 
 was deaf to the world. Across the room a new 
 game of checkers had begun between the grey 
 beard and Jove, but the shoemaker did not look 
 up a kind of gentle light had come into his 
 face and a little line ran in his forehead, straight 
 up to the lock of hair; so a poet might scan his 
 lines, seeking the right word. . . . The shoe- 
 maker's face held the worn soles and turned
 
 6 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 them from him and looked at them and broke 
 into gentle singing a little gentle humming 
 beneath his breath. His hand reached out for 
 a sharp knife, and the sound of softly-cut 
 stitches followed its sharp edge along the sole. 
 
 The assistant put his head in the door and sur- 
 veyed the silent group and came in his face a 
 trifle lighter under its grime. He hung up his 
 hat and crossed the room "Letter for ye," he 
 said. He threw it down on the bench but the 
 shoemaker did not look up, and the softly-rip- 
 ping stitches went swiftly on. 
 
 The assistant sat down and drew the iron last 
 between his knees and took up his hammer; 
 rat-ty-/<2/ rat-ty-tat-/^/ rat-ty-/#/ and softly 
 snipping stitches and somewhere on the wall a 
 clock ticking a little when the hammering was 
 still. 
 
 It was a place where nothing could ever hap- 
 pen; the letter lay on the shoemaker's bench, 
 the two men played an eternal game of checkers, 
 across the room, the assistant made shoes, and 
 the shoemaker with his face to a pair of shabby
 
 NOTHING COULD HAPPEN 7 
 
 soles saw something beautiful beyond them 
 emerging from the worn shapes something that 
 should be as good as new . . . rat-ty-tat rat- 
 ty-tat-te//
 
 II 
 
 IT HAPPENS 
 
 THE town-clock struck six, and the shoemaker 
 looked up, and blinked; the assistant with his 
 hammer half-lifted for another stroke, laid it 
 down with a little happy thud. The checker- 
 players stirred vaguely, looked at the clock ab- 
 sently and, with the round black-and-white spots 
 before them, went on reaching into blind space. 
 
 The shoemaker's eye fell on the letter and he- 
 took it up. 
 
 The assistant's eye followed it "From John, 
 ain't it?" he asked. 
 
 "Yes." The shoemaker moved over to the 
 gas-jet and adjusted his glasses a little; he could 
 see to cut the finest stitches in the dark but not 
 a letter from John. 
 
 The assistant lingered a little. He and John 
 had been schoolboys together. There might be 
 something interesting. John was getting to be
 
 IT HAPPENS 9 
 
 a big man. The assistant was very fat and he 
 did not understand exactly what it was that 
 John was doing but at school he had licked 
 John, easy John was a little fellow those days. 
 The assistant played with the strings of his 
 apron. 
 
 The shoemaker spelled out the words with 
 gentle, half-moving lips, and the checker-players 
 pushed back the board and got up. The big 
 man straightened himself in sections "Got a 
 letter?" he asked kindly. 
 
 The grey beard moved nimbly. "I beat 
 him!" he said; "I beat him that time!" 
 
 The big man smiled at him tolerantly. 
 
 The shoemaker lowered his glasses with his 
 finger and looked over the top at them. "A let- 
 ter from John," he said. 
 
 "Uh-huh How's John getting on?" The 
 big man was genial. 
 
 But the shoemaker had returned to the letter. 
 "Well well !" he said softly. "Well well!" 
 
 The room quickened a little. The assistant 
 put down his hat and waited.
 
 10 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 The shoemaker took off his glasses and rubbed 
 them slowly and looked at the other three 
 with a little quiet smile "John wants me to go 
 to Europe," he said. 
 
 "Go where?" said Simon vaguely. He 
 rubbed his little beard and gulped. 
 
 The shoemaker nodded. "Right off; he says 
 he's got the passage engaged; he wants us to go 
 the fifteenth a week from Saturday." His 
 eye fell on the shoes lying side by side on his 
 bench and he smiled at them. "I must hurry 
 my shoes." 
 
 "You going*?" asked the big man. 
 
 "I think we'll go yes if John wants us to. 
 I've always thought I'd like to go abroad " 
 
 "Well!" said Simon. He sat down a little 
 quickly. "Kind o' sudden, ain't it your goin' 
 abroad!" 
 
 The assistant scraped a foot along the floor 
 and the shoemaker looked at him and smiled. 
 "Do you think you can manage the business, 
 Samuel for a year or so 1 ?" 
 
 "A year!" The assistant gulped, and looked
 
 IT HAPPENS 11 
 
 at the row of awls stuck in their leather straps 
 along the window-ledge. "You goin' to be 
 gone a year?" he repeated dully. The very 
 awls looked different, somehow. 
 
 "John says a year. Here is what he says." 
 He read it out slowly 
 
 I want you and Mother to stay six months or so 
 in England. You'll know the language and can get 
 along all right there ; and then, next summer, I am 
 to have three months my first vacation in ten years, 
 you know and I'll come over and join you, and 
 we'll go to the continent together. 
 
 "John can speak several languages," said the 
 shoemaker, breaking off with gentle pride. "He 
 learned them at college German and French 
 and Italian and Spanish. I only know one 
 language." 
 
 "It's enough to say all you can think of, 
 
 too " said the big man. He was a little 
 
 moved on his base by this sudden irruption of 
 travel. 
 
 The shoemaker looked about him. "I must 
 go and tell Mother," he said; "she'll want to get
 
 12 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 used to it." He nodded kindly to the fat as- 
 sistant, who was staring at the row of awls, his 
 thick under-lip moving in and out slowly. 
 "You think about it, Samuel. It won't be so 
 bad when you think it over you can do it." 
 
 "Oh, yes, you can do it," said the big man re- 
 assuringly. "I'll look in and advise you about 
 it, every day or two." 
 
 "I beat him, that last game," said Simon hap- 
 pily. "You see, I " 
 
 But the shoemaker had put on his hat and 
 was gone. The big man was already looming 
 away down the dusk of the street, and the as- 
 sistant stood with one hand on the gas-jet, ready 
 to shut up shop. 
 
 Simon skipped out into the dusk. The as- 
 sistant closed the door and locked it and turned 
 slowly away. Over the door the faded sign, 
 
 ANTHONY WICKHAM 
 
 MAKER AND MENDER OF SHOES 
 
 looked out faintly on the half-lit street. The 
 sign had hung there thirty years, worn by
 
 IT HAPPENS 13 
 
 wind and rain and pointing the way inside to 
 the low bench where Anthony Wickham sat 
 stitching on the worn-out shoes of Bolton 
 making them "good as new." 
 
 The fat assistant wagged his head distrust- 
 fully and plodded down the street ... his 
 round, rolling gait bearing him on. "I can't do 
 
 it " he mumbled. "I ain't fit! I can't do 
 
 fine work like he can." 
 
 And overhead the stars twinkled out on the 
 assistant, and on Simon scurrying home through 
 the dusk, swelling with happy pride, and on the 
 big man who did not care that he was beaten, 
 and on Anthony, maker and mender of shoes, 
 going slowly under the stars, looking up at them 
 now and then, and looking around him. Thirty 
 years he had waited, stitching his vision into 
 leather and thread and now the great world 
 door swung softly open before him. . . .
 
 Ill 
 
 MOTHER 
 
 HE laid the letter on the table and looked at her 
 with a long, slow, happy smile. 
 
 She took it up swiftly "From John!" she 
 said. She eyed it a minute and laid it down. 
 "You must have your supper first." 
 
 She bustled about, carrying things to the ta- 
 ble, talking briskly as she moved. She was a 
 little woman, her head barely reaching the shoe- 
 maker's shoulder when she stood still beside him 
 for a minute; but when she moved she seemed 
 to rise on little springs as if suddenly, all over, 
 she was set free. 
 
 Anthony watched her with his quiet smile as 
 she came and went in her flittings. "Sit down, 
 Mother," he said, "you've got everything we 
 need." 
 
 "Yes," a little breathless with achievement, 
 
 "it's ready now as soon as I take out my pie !" 
 
 14
 
 MOTHER 15 
 
 She opened the oven door and looked in cau- 
 tiously and took out a fragrant pie. 
 
 Anthony's eye followed it. "Apple?" he 
 asked. 
 
 She nodded and set it slowly on the table. 
 "It got done a little mite too much," she said. 
 She was looking regretfully at the brown, mot- 
 tled crust. 
 
 "Just about right for me," said Anthony. 
 
 Her face relaxed. "Men-folks' 11 eat pie 
 apple-pie no matter how it's done," she said. 
 She poured out the tea, one eye on the letter be- 
 side. "What does he say*?" she asked. 
 
 "Good news," said Anthony. He sipped his 
 tea tentatively and watched her, smiling. 
 
 She took up the letter and began on it and 
 laid it down and looked at him. "John's 
 crazy!" she said. Then, after a minute : 'I 
 don't want to go!" 
 
 "You'll like it," said Anthony. 
 
 "To go abroad ! I should hate to go abroad !" 
 she said swiftly. 
 
 "Why, Mother!"
 
 16 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 "Don't talk to me, Anthony! I should hate 
 it. You ready for your pie 1 ?" She cut a gen- 
 erous piece and put it on his plate and watched 
 critically as his mouth closed on the first 
 morsel. 
 
 He nodded slowly. "Just right, Mother." 
 
 A little smile quivered on her face. "You 
 know I shouldn't like it, don't you, Anthony 
 going abroad?" 
 
 "It takes time to get used to going abroad." 
 He was looking wistfully at the letter. 
 
 "I shall stay right here " she said, "and save 
 the money. ... You can go," she added, 
 looking at him. 
 
 He shook his head slowly. "I can't go with- 
 out you, Mother." 
 
 There was silence between them. The canary 
 under his blue cloth, settled down for the night, 
 chirped a little; but there was no response. 
 Anthony waited patiently for the workings of 
 the feminine mind. 
 
 When she had finished the dishes she came 
 and sat down beside him. A little fire glowed
 
 MOTHER 17 
 
 in the grate. . . . She slipped her hand under 
 the thin one lying along the arm of the chair. 
 
 "John will be disappointed," she said softly. 
 
 "Yes." He patted the hand a little. 
 
 She looked into the fire. "He ought to get 
 married," she said. 
 
 "Give him time," answered the shoemaker. 
 
 "He's never saved a cent," she said sternly, 
 "and now to waste two thousand dollars on 
 us! I'd rather he'd get married !" 
 
 He patted the hand again. "You can't ex- 
 actly get married like that by handing 
 around two thousand dollars," he said. 
 
 "I know, well enough, what I mean, Anthony, 
 and you know, too. . . . There must be some 
 nice girls " She studied the fire. 
 
 "Lydia Bacon *?" suggested the shoemaker. 
 
 "Anthony Wickham! For John!" 
 
 The shoemaker chuckled a quiet little 
 chuckle, like the coals falling in the grate. "Do 
 you know anybody that would suit you better 
 than Lydia*?" he asked respectfully. 
 
 She paused. "No-o " she admitted. "But
 
 i8 THE TASTE OF AEPLES 
 
 that's no reason you should think of her !" She 
 sniffed at the glowing coals softly. "We will 
 write him to-night and tell him to save his money 
 and get married and take some comfort in 
 life!" she finished up. 
 
 "Very well, Mother. You write him. Tell 
 him just how you feel about it." 
 
 So the letter went, and the answer came 
 promptly back. The tickets were bought, John 
 wrote. But if they really did not want them he 
 would sell them at a sacrifice underlined 
 and give the money to the Baptist Church. 
 
 "To the Baptist Church 4 ?" she quivered with 
 anxious face. "Doesn't he remember we are 
 Congregationalists *?" 
 
 "He wants us to go," said Anthony. "He 
 isn't thinking about much else, I guess." 
 
 The letter had been addressed to Mr. Anthony 
 Wickham and had come to the shop. But the 
 following day a letter came to Mrs. Anthony 
 Wickham, which the shoemaker did not see. 
 
 She read it, standing by the stove in her sunny
 
 MOTHER 19 
 
 kitchen, the canary trilling a little among his 
 geraniums and plants in the window. 
 
 "I've been thinking about Father," the letter 
 read "There was something about him that 
 last time I was home, something about his face 
 that set me thinking, Mother. . . ." She had 
 slipped the bit of paper inside her dress, and 
 when Anthony came home at night she had gone 
 up to him and put her hands on his shoulders and 
 looked up at him a long minute. Then she had 
 lifted her face to kiss him. 
 
 "I don't know where I can buy a good steam- 
 er-trunk," she said.
 
 IV 
 
 GETS READY 
 
 THERE was hurry and scurry and debate. The 
 canary must be boarded out, and the geraniums 
 and plants taken care of, and the attic and cel- 
 lar scrubbed from top to toe. Upstairs and 
 downstairs and in my lady's chamber, there was 
 bustle and confusion and the clutter of house- 
 hold gods. 
 
 Through it all, Mother her head tied up in 
 a large towel, a magic broom-wand in her hand 
 moved serene. Order must be restored by the 
 fourteenth; and precisely at four o'clock of the 
 fourteenth the house was ready. It had been 
 rented to the new milkman who had just moved 
 to Bolton and had one child and a nice little 
 wife there were three loaves of bread and a 
 nice pie in the pantry for the milkman and his 
 nice wife and baby, a little heap of kindlings in 
 the shed, and the bed with its starched pillow- 
 
 20
 
 GETS READY 21 
 
 shams and white spread was made up ready for 
 them in the chamber overhead. 
 
 Once she had surrendered, Mother had taken 
 entire charge of the campaign; she had made it 
 her own. Anthony was not allowed to pack his 
 trunk or to select the clothes he should wear. 
 
 "You take care of the shop," she had said, 
 fairly bustling him out, "I'll see to things 
 here." 
 
 So Anthony had sat quietly stitching away 
 his new hopes and new plans into the old leather 
 and soles. 
 
 There had been a sudden influx of trade when 
 the Bolton "Herald" announced that Mr. and 
 Mrs. Anthony Wickham were sailing on the fif- 
 teenth. All the old shoes and slippers and boots 
 in Bolton poured in upon him. They lay 
 heaped up between him and the fat assistant; 
 and the assistant scowled at them and drew his 
 heavy needle in and out. 
 
 "You couldn't finish 'em by Christmas not 
 if you worked nights !" he said, resentfully. 
 
 "I'm picking out the worst ones, Samuel,"
 
 22 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 said the shoemaker, bending to the pile and se- 
 lecting, ruefully, a crazy old slipper. "These 
 slippers of Mrs. Judge Fox's, now I've mended 
 these twenty years, I should think first tops 
 and then bottoms and then tops and bottoms 
 both. ... I tell Mis' Fox, slippers are like 
 folks wearin' a little here and a little there, 
 and getting new stuff all the while as they go 
 along and growing a little bigger, too," he said 
 softly, smiling down at the queer shapes. 
 
 Samuel stared at them gloomily. "You can't 
 do anything with Mrs. Judge Fox's, ever chuck 
 'em!" 
 
 But the shoemaker smiled at them still, and 
 ran his fingers along their faults slowly "I 
 think we can do a little a little something 
 with them " he said musingly, and the old 
 leather seemed to respond to the touch and lift 
 itself a little. "They've lost their shape that's 
 all, Samuel. Plenty of wear plenty " 
 
 He murmured indistinct words and drew out 
 the insoles and peered at them and breathed a 
 little breath, and fell to work; his thin fingers
 
 GETS READYf 23 
 
 dwelt upon the ugly lines and drew away with 
 deft touch, and the bulging old slippers caught 
 the idea, and seemed to forget Mrs. Judge Fox 
 and her burden of flesh and became, once more, 
 slippers. The shoemaker laid them down on the 
 bench beside him with a little, happy gesture, 
 and glanced across at the assistant. 
 
 Samuel gave a grudging look. "Yes 
 you've done 'em. But if I could do fine work 
 like you can, I wouldn't waste myself on a pair 
 of old things like them !" 
 
 Now, it happened that Mrs. Judge Fox died 
 that year, and while she lay dying the slippers 
 stood by her bed, and her eye fell on them and 
 she half reached down a hand to them. "They 
 lasted my time out " she said, half-whispering. 
 "I'm glad they last " And she forgot to say 
 good-bye to the old Judge who sat by her cry- 
 ing his few, hard tears. . . . The dying think 
 of trivial things. 
 
 The fat assistant worked on with stodgy un- 
 ending patience and gloom, but the pile on the 
 floor between them did not diminish; it grew
 
 24 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 ever larger, and each morning more shoes were 
 added to it until even Anthony Wickham ac- 
 knowledged that it would not be possible to 
 finish them. 
 
 And not only shoes took up the time. There 
 was consultation and advice to be gone through 
 with also. Anthony came at last to sitting with 
 the geography open on the bench beside him and 
 talking with one finger on the page and one on 
 his last. The checker-board in the comer grew 
 thick with dust. The big man gave advice, 
 and Simon questioned it rubbing his little grey 
 beard; and politics, sociology, race lines, lan- 
 guage, etiquette, seasickness, foreign money, 
 feeing, fleas, boarding houses, horse-meat and 
 snails for food were carefully threshed out and 
 disposed of. 
 
 The big man sat, ponderous and wise, and 
 gave advice on all. Simon skipped nimbly from 
 peak to peak of incredulity. And the shoe- 
 maker lifted his smiling glance or pushed up his 
 spectacles and wrinkled his brow at the infor- 
 mation they gave him. "I think Mother will
 
 GETS READY 25 
 
 see about that," he would say when the battle 
 waxed too hot for him. 
 
 There were other visitors who came with ad- 
 vice and shoes. 
 
 The Episcopal rector brought a pair of thin, 
 low ties and seated himself in a casual chair 
 while Anthony inspected them. He studied 
 them, and turned them in his hand and looked 
 up, smiling as if at some pleasant discovery. 
 
 "You run them over in the heel," he said, 
 pointing to the iron nails that protruded at the 
 back through the low heels, shining and blunt. 
 
 "Yes, I walk a great deal," said the Rector. 
 "I like exercise. Walking is my favourite 
 method of locomotion. . . . Um you do not 
 walk much V" 
 
 Anthony shook his head. "Home and back 
 twice a day is my walking," he said. 
 
 "Yes yes of course. But I hear you are 
 going quite a journey quite a journey." 
 
 Anthony looked up, pleased and friendly, 
 and the conversation glided into the well-worn 
 groove how to travel, where to travel, what to
 
 26 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 wear, what to see, the pictures one must not miss, 
 and the cathedrals. . . . 
 
 The fat assistant was having a liberal educa- 
 tion without stirring from his leather-strewn 
 bench. In spite of his best intentions, his ears 
 were filled with Madonnas ant^-tombs and gate* 
 ways that he could have recited in his dreams if 
 he had been pressed. 
 
 The Rector sent in another pair of shoes and 
 a list of Madonnas that Mother must be sure to 
 see; and Mother tucked them away in the little 
 black reticule that was fast becoming as crowded 
 as the assistant's head, and went on with her 
 work. The Baptist minister made out a bicycle 
 trip in lower Sussex one that he had read in 
 a book and the pastor of the Presbyterian 
 Church contributed notes on the orthodox 
 churches of London. 
 
 The shoemaker had become a person of im- 
 portance. A prospective trip to Europe while 
 not the same as the ordinary Divinity school 
 education, was in a way its social equivalent. 
 A shoemaker who proposed to go abroad or
 
 GETS READY 27 
 
 whose son proposed it for him was not the 
 same as a shoemaker who merely made and 
 mended shoes; he became an opportunity. 
 
 All his life Anthony Wickham had known all 
 Bolton by its feet there was hardly a man, 
 woman or child in Bolton whom he would not 
 have known by their shoes, there was scarcely 
 one that he would not have known in the dark 
 by the mere feeling of their feet under the touch 
 of his thin fingers. Many of them he had fol- 
 lowed from boyhood to manhood, seeing the 
 quick, boyish soles broaden and harden and 
 throw out little callous lumps that must be 
 reckoned with if one made a shoe that should 
 fit. He knew them all. Sometimes it seemed 
 to him that the character of men lies in their feet 
 rather than in their heads; and he always 
 looked first, a long slow glance, at a man's shoes 
 before he lifted his gentle eyes to the face above 
 them and read what was hidden there. 
 
 In and out through the little shop, for thirty 
 years, Bolton had come and gone, and the little 
 bell overhead had tingled for them; children
 
 28 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 with ball or hoop and a pair of shoes they had 
 skipped in, and out; old men and women, bent 
 with saving and distrust; for the rich and the 
 poor and the just and the unjust the little bell 
 had tingled; and each of them had held out to 
 Anthony Wickham, maker and mender, a pair 
 of old shoes. To them all he was the man who 
 mended them. 
 
 But now he had become a certain Mr. Wick- 
 ham not quite "our respected fellow towns- 
 man," perhaps, but a "very intelligent man." 
 It had not seemed strange to Bolton that he 
 should save and scrimp and send his son to col- 
 lege on scraps and shreds of leather, as it were. 
 It was the good old New England custom to 
 give the boy a chance and no one found it 
 worth a comment or thought. But that the son 
 should turn about and send his parents abroad! 
 This was at once picturesque and strange and 
 the pile of shoes on the floor grew higher, the 
 scowl on Samuel's countenance deepened; and 
 Mr. and Mrs. Anthony Wickham took the four 
 o'clock train for New York.
 
 TO MEET JOHN 
 
 "I DO hope John will meet us." It was the 
 tenth time she had hoped it, and for the tenth 
 time Anthony had assured her that John would 
 surely be there he wouldn't miss them. 
 
 The train drew into the long shed. The pas- 
 sengers descended and John gathered the little 
 woman under his arm. 
 
 "I knew you'd be here !" she said, triumphant. 
 
 "Yes, I'm here. How about your baggage*?" 
 He squeezed the hand a little and tucked it 
 closer under his arm. 
 
 Anthony produced checks and tags and papers, 
 and the three mingled with the crowd pouring 
 across the platform. 
 
 Half an hour later they were in a great hotel, 
 high up in the air, facing each other and talk- 
 ing. John had arranged everything, it seemed; 
 
 he had provided Baedekers and handbooks 
 
 29
 
 30 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 without end. They were to go first to a little 
 English hotel near Trafalgar Square kept in 
 the old fashion ; he gave them the address, which 
 Mother tucked carefully away in her bag. They 
 were to stay at this hotel as long as they liked. 
 Later they could look up rooms, if they wanted; 
 it would be a way of seeing London looking 
 up rooms. 
 
 "Rooms will be cheaper, won't they 1 ?" said 
 Mother. 
 
 "Cheaper? Yes See here, Mother, I don't 
 want you to think about things being cheaper; 
 just go ahead and have a good time not think- 
 ing about things being cheaper." 
 
 She nodded at him sagely. "I don't need to 
 spend all your money to have a good time," 
 she said. 
 
 He laughed out. "Well, I do. I mean to 
 spend part of it right here in New York. Now 
 what would you like to see best, Mother of all 
 New York before you sail?" 
 
 "Grant's tomb," said Mother promptly. 
 
 "Mother!"
 
 TO MEET JOHN 31 
 
 "Grant's tomb," she repeated firmly. 
 "We've got to see a good many tombs over 
 there," she touched the little black bag, "and I 
 want to see how ours compare." 
 
 "All right you shall see all the tombs in 
 New York! But you can't see them to-night." 
 He thought a minute. "How would you like 
 to go to a play?" 
 
 She glanced quickly at Anthony. The shoe- 
 maker returned the look, smiling. "We're 
 travelling, Mother," he said. 
 
 But she shook her head. "You can travel all 
 you like, Anthony and John can travel ! I 
 shall stay right here!" She took firm hold of 
 the arms of her chair. 
 
 Anthony chuckled a little. 
 
 "But a play's all right, Mother! There's a 
 good one at The Lyceum one of Barrie's. 
 Barrie wrote The Little Minister,' you know,'* 
 said John. 
 
 But Mother swam serenely away. "I don't 
 feel like seeing a play," she said. "How much 
 does it cost*?"
 
 32 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 Anthony interposed a gentle voice. "I don't 
 think you'll get Mother started to-night, John. 
 But you and I might go *?" 
 
 Her son looked at her, and she smiled back 
 happily. "That's right! You and Father go! 
 Then you can tell me about it at breakfast. I'd 
 like that better than going myself." 
 
 Her face was a little guilty under its meek- 
 ness, and there was a twinkle in her son's eye as 
 he bent and kissed her. 
 
 Mother's economies had always amused him 
 even as a small boy in trousers too long for 
 him, and later as a big boy in trousers too short 
 for him. There was always a little artistic 
 flourish that went with Mother's economies that 
 set them in a class by themselves. She econo- 
 mised for sheer love of it ... the money she 
 saved was a mere by-product. 
 
 But he looked a little meaningly at her as he 
 said, "I want the trip to be a real change for 
 you and for Father." 
 
 "It's going to be a change a terrible change, 
 for both of us, John," she said cheerfully.
 
 TO MEET JOHN 33 
 
 s 'Now you go and get ready for your play, and 
 I'll fix things a little." 
 
 She bustled about, unpacking their bags and 
 making the rooms homelike for the night. 
 
 The bathroom appalled her at first. She had 
 tiptoed in and looked at it, and came out with 
 sober face. It was only when John assured her 
 that there were thousands of them in New York 
 that in this particular hotel you would have 
 hard work to get a room without a bath, that 
 she had accepted it. But once accepted, she 
 revelled in it. She arranged tooth-brushes and 
 soap, and went in and out merely to look 
 again on the porcelain-lined elegance and 
 comfort. 
 
 To Anthony the elegance seemed to come as 
 a matter of course. His thin figure seemed to 
 grow a little taller and the forward droop of 
 his shoulders lifted itself. The son watched 
 him with wistful eyes. He had always known 
 that his father was not like other men, quite. 
 Sometimes he would wake in the night and see 
 the thin, distinguished figure bending over its
 
 34 
 
 pair of shoes, stitching steadily and it cut him 
 
 like a knife. 
 
 John was a big man and the place that was 
 making for him in the world of iron and steel 
 was bigger than most people knew; but he had 
 only one wish to give to Anthony Wickham 
 the chance of life that he had missed. . . . He 
 might have grasped his chance the son knew 
 the story and was proud of it how he had taken 
 the first thing at hand when his father died and 
 had helped brothers and sisters, one after the 
 other, to an education stitching until he could 
 not stop. A man does not change at sixty years. 
 And John Wickham, as he grew up, had it al- 
 ways in mind some day his father should take 
 a rest. . . . He looked at him now, leaning 
 back against the tawdry hotel chair, his hands 
 a little relaxed, his eyes half-closed the face 
 had the quietness that goes with strength, a 
 quiet, quizzical face that had looked on the 
 world, without judging it, for sixty years. 
 
 When his son looked away his eyes were filled
 
 TO MEET JOHN 35 
 
 with quick tears. He got up and went over to 
 his mother and touched her gently. 
 
 "I'll get the tickets, and we'll have supper 
 sent up here," he said; "it will seem like home."
 
 VI 
 
 VAUDEVILLE 
 
 THE Broadway night hummed and sparkled 
 and flashed its bulbs at them taxis flew past 
 unendingly the crowd pushed a little, and 
 swayed, and caught a rhythm beating, far be- 
 neath, and swung to it for no man liveth to 
 himself and no man dieth to himself. . . . An- 
 thony Wickham touched his son's arm "So 
 many feet!" he said quietly, smiling. 
 
 And the son smiled back "And all going!" 
 he said. "Do you like it, Father*?" 
 
 But Anthony's eyes were on the crowd 
 chatter and hum, the touch of feet on stone, the 
 flitter of feet and flowing tide and the look of 
 swift-turning eyes . . . and a great white 
 light above below around. The son slipped 
 a hand beneath his arm and they moved as a 
 unit in the swinging mass ; the crowd drew them, 
 sucked them in, and they opened to it the 
 
 36
 
 VAUDEVILLE 37 
 
 great pulse swinging them, lifting them, the 
 mighty, thrilling human pulse and a thousand 
 trampling feet on the pavements. 
 
 "Here we are!" said the son. 
 
 They had turned into a great entrance at the 
 left, and went up the long, lighted stairs. 
 
 "It's vaudeville," said John; "I thought some 
 of it would interest you." 
 
 "Everything interests me," said Anthony 
 Wickham. 
 
 They had passed through softly-swinging 
 doors at the top and were looking down into the 
 half-lighted house, with the dimness and shad- 
 owy forms here and there. 
 
 "We're early," said John. "You'll have a 
 chance to see them come in. You'll like 
 that 1 ?" 
 
 "I shall like to see them come in and I shall 
 like to get my breath," said Anthony. 
 
 "Did we come too fast 2" His son looked at 
 him quickly. 
 
 "Not too fast for my legs, I guess but a lit- 
 tle fast for my head "
 
 38 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 "I know. You have to get geared to it. I 
 didn't think!" 
 
 "That's what you call it geared to it*?" He 
 held the words with pleased interest. 
 
 "Like a machine, you know high gear and 
 low gear " 
 
 "I see. New York takes a rather high gear, 
 doesn't it, Son?" 
 
 "Rather high, I should think," assented John. 
 "There are people, you know, who think it's too 
 high, people who won't live here at all they 
 come on visits!" 
 
 "Like me," said Anthony. 
 
 "Not like you," said the son quickly. "You 
 were a part of it *?" He was looking at him, 
 smiling through the dimness. 
 
 And Anthony caught the look and held it. 
 "I felt as if I were the whole of it," he said, 
 smiling, "the whole crowd, you know !" 
 
 "Yes, I know. That's the fine thing about a 
 crowd gives you such a new, big feeling. I 
 know I've felt it myself. ... I want to tell
 
 VAUDEVILLE 39 
 
 you something, Father " He settled a little 
 
 in his seat and bent nearer to him. "There's 
 something I want you to do for me, over there, 
 in London." 
 
 Anthony smiled a little. "Better ask 
 Mother, wouldn't we*?" he said. 
 
 "Mother can't do it," said John quickly, 
 " It's one of the few things Mother couldn't 
 do. But she would spoil this. She mustn't even 
 know." He looked at him. 
 
 "Very well." The shoemaker waited. 
 
 "It's about Wallace Wallace Tilton, you 
 
 know " said John. "I'm worried about 
 
 him." 
 
 "About Wally Tilton Where is he 
 
 now*?" asked Anthony. 
 
 "He's in London and I guess he's going the 
 pace over there." 
 
 "He always was hard on his shoes," said An- 
 thony smiling. 
 
 "Well, he's hard on them now. The Com- 
 pany's beginning to take notice. They won't
 
 40 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 say anything; but presently somebody else will 
 be in Wally's shoes unless we can stop him." 
 He was looking at his father. 
 
 Anthony looked about him at the great 
 vaguely-lighted place with its tiers rising to the 
 roof. "What can I do, John*?" he asked. 
 
 "I don't know, Father. But if Wallace Til- 
 ton goes to the bad, I'll never forgive myself. 
 He gave me my start, you know. I couldn't 
 stand it to go on prospering and have Wallace 
 Tilton mud!" 
 
 The lights flashed up around them, the or- 
 chestra tuned a little crowds streamed in, 
 down the aisle slamming seats, flying ushers, 
 up the aisle and back. The orchestra broke out 
 into a gay little tune everybody talked the 
 fire curtain rolled slowly up. Anthony Wick- 
 ham watched it all with slow, smiling eyes; and 
 his son watched Anthony Wickham. 
 
 Presently the father turned to him. "I'll do 
 what I can, John, about Wally you know 
 that? But I'm afraid it won't be much. I'm 
 not very clever, you know."
 
 VAUDEVILLE 41 
 
 "Bother cleverness!" said John. "It's folks, 
 Wallace wants home folks; he's forgot who he 
 is and where he came from. You and Mother 
 will do him good good all through. What he 
 needs is apple-pie, a good, big piece of apple- 
 pie 'the kind that Mother used to make.' " 
 
 "Mother'll do him good," said Anthony; 
 "she's like good fresh rain and the sun and 
 sky." 
 
 "But she mustn't know," said John quickly. 
 "She'd take to doing him good and saving him, 
 if she knew." 
 
 "We mustn't let Mother save him," said An- 
 thony. "I shouldn't want to be saved by 
 Mother myself," he said, chuckling a little. 
 
 The house about them had grown slowly dark ; 
 the music quickened to softly-dancing steps; 
 the great inner curtain rolled up. Into a maze 
 of coloured lights and flowers and gauzy, shift- 
 ing scenes a fairy on tiptoes floated and held 
 herself and drifted away into the fire-lit trees. 
 Anthony Wickham's face followed her fol- 
 lowed the dancing feet and light-hung move-
 
 42 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 ment the weaving, drifting, careless grace; he 
 drew a little, quick breath, and murmured to 
 himself. 
 
 John's eye ran to him. He leaned forward. 
 "Did you ever see anything just like it, Father*?" 
 he said, smiling. 
 
 Anthony's face, through the dim gloom, 
 turned to him vaguely. "I've felt like it al- 
 ways," he said. 
 
 John laughed softly. "That's it! We've 
 all felt like it in a dream !" 
 
 "In a dream " said Anthony. 
 
 "Hush-sh-h!" The quick-dancing figure had 
 come again out of her dreams all the lights of 
 the world playing upon her, swinging, swirling, 
 lifting, drifting, fast and faster, whirl of swift- 
 flung spray, and winding, fire-lit cloud . . . 
 and quickened breath. The curtain came down 
 and went up again and again hands beat upon 
 hands. . . . The house swung to the dancing 
 feet. Three thousand people, heavy and dumb, 
 had danced upon the fire-lit stage and hand 
 beat on hand. . . . The curtain came slowly
 
 VAUDEVILLE 43 
 
 down the lights flashed out; tired faces, under 
 their painted shells, looked out about them 
 vaguely smiling at the pretty thing they had 
 seen. 
 
 "What was it like?" asked Mother at the 
 breakfast table.
 
 VII 
 
 MOTHERS OPINIONS 
 
 JOHN had reserved a table for them in the bay- 
 window and through the transparent curtains 
 they could see the glimpses of flowers and sil- 
 ver, and waiters passing to and fro, with noise- 
 less feet. Their own waiter had placed the 
 breakfast on the table and withdrawn just out- 
 side, and through the filmy curtain Mother could 
 see his shoulder and a huge, hanging hand. She 
 sat behind her coffee-urn, erect and competent, a 
 smile behind her round glasses. 
 
 "What was it like*?" she repeated. 
 
 John glanced at his father and Anthony re- 
 turned the glance, smiling. 
 
 "It was vaudeville, you know, Mother," said 
 John. 
 
 "Yes what is vaudeville like?" She was 
 putting in the lumps deftly three for John and 
 two for his father. 
 
 44
 
 MOTHER'S OPINIONS 45 
 
 "All sorts of things," said John slowly. 
 
 "Vaudeville there was dancing, you know, 
 
 and singing and " 
 
 "Dancing !" said Mother. She was look- 
 ing at Anthony. 
 
 He took his coffee and stirred it and smiled 
 at her. "It was very pretty, Mother." His 
 eyes seemed to be following a drifting figure 
 through the filmy curtain. Mother half turned. 
 She looked reproachfully at John. "I really 
 ought to have gone with him," she said. 
 
 "You would have liked it, Mother," he re- 
 plied. He was smiling at the utter roundness 
 of her face and its softly-puckered lines. "You 
 would have liked it. It wasn't the least like 
 what you are seeing in your mind." 
 
 "I am not seeing anything in my mind," she 
 declared. But a swift flush ran over the round 
 face and left it blank. 
 
 John laughed out. "Ask Father to tell you 
 about it, on the boat. It would take too long 
 now and besides there are a thousand things to 
 settle. I've brought your letter of credit,
 
 46 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 Father " He held out a paper and Anthony 
 took it in slow, pleased fingers. "It's made out 
 on the London Provincial Bank. You deposit 
 it with them, and then you'd better open an ac- 
 count there, wouldn't you 1 ?" 
 
 "You tell me about that, John," said Mother 
 meaningly. 
 
 "I'll tell you both it's simple " He drew 
 a small, dark-red book from his pocket and 
 opened it. "This is my cheque-book see I 
 set down here what I put in and here, on the 
 right, what I spend and then add them, and 
 subtract, and balance at the bottom of each page 
 and put the balance at the top of the next 
 page, you see and so on." He ran the pages 
 lightly between his fingers "Here's the draft I 
 drew for the letter of credit." 
 
 Mother's eyes were glued to it. "A thousand 
 dollars," she whispered. "It's too much, 
 John !" Her eyes sought the shoulder just out- 
 side the lace curtain. "You'd better give it to 
 me, Anthony " she said.
 
 MOTHER'S OPINIONS 47 
 
 But John interposed. "It's in Father's 
 name " he was smiling a little "and it has a 
 description of Father in it. It wouldn't do for 
 a little, round person like you, Mother !" 
 
 Her face fell a little. "How do we open an 
 account*?" she asked. 
 
 "They'll show you over there." He was go- 
 ing over his list swiftly. "Now here are your 
 tickets and some English change you'll need 
 it for your cab, and so on and here is some 
 American money for fees on the boat " 
 
 "For what*?" said Mother. 
 
 "Fees on the boat; you pay you know " 
 
 "What for?' said Mother. 
 
 "Why for for fees " John began at the 
 beginning and explained carefully the system 
 of transatlantic tariff, and Mother's face grew 
 rounder and sadder as she listened; it screwed 
 itself in little wrinkles as she looked at him 
 trying to understand. 
 
 "What did you say we give the man on the 
 deck*?" she asked.
 
 48 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 "The deck-steward? Oh, a couple of dollars. 
 I'll put it in this envelope " he handed it across 
 to Anthony. 
 
 "What does the deck-steward do?" asked 
 Mother quickly. 
 
 "You get your chairs of him, you know " 
 
 "Oh, it's for the chairs a kind of rent." 
 Her face cleared. 
 
 But Anthony's slow fingers were going over 
 the envelopes on the table beside him. "Here's 
 another marked 'deck-steward,' " he said, hold- 
 ing it up. 
 
 John looked at it, helplessly. "That is for 
 the chairs," he said, "when you firs', go on 
 Give it here. I'll see about them before you 
 start. That makes one less bother for you." 
 He replaced the money in his purse. 
 
 Mother's eyes followed it, relieved. "Then 
 we don't have to give the deck-steward any- 
 thing?" she said happily. 
 
 "Yes, I've got it here 'deck-steward,' " read 
 Anthony.
 
 MOTHER'S OPINIONS 49 
 
 She looked at it despairingly. Then she 
 wrinkled at John. 
 
 "He carries your chair around for you " 
 said John. 
 
 "I'll carry it," she said promptly. "Father'll 
 carry it for me." She beamed on Father. 
 
 John groaned a little. "You understand it, 
 don't you, Father?" 
 
 "Yes; I'm to give the deck-steward this " 
 He touched the envelope on the table before him, 
 "when we get there?" 
 
 "Yes. Here's a book I got that gives a 
 general estimate of fees." 
 
 "You mean, John Wickham, that we've got 
 to keep on doing this every day dealing out 
 little driblets of money to folks for nothing?" 
 
 "Oh, they do things for you " 
 
 "I don't want it!" She pushed the helpful 
 little book aside. "I'm not going! I'd rather 
 stay right here !" 
 
 A twinkle came into John's eye. "It will 
 cost a lot more to stay here than to go, I'm
 
 50 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 afraid," he said. His eye was on the shoulder, 
 just outside the filmy curtain, and on the large 
 arm that depended from the shoulder, and on 
 the huge hand at the end of the arm. 
 
 "We don't do things like that here!" said 
 Mother. She eyed the innocent book scorn- 
 fully. 
 
 "I'm afraid we do and worse," said John 
 softly. The fingers of the huge hand worked 
 back and forth a little and twiddled themselves. 
 "And worse!" said John. 
 
 Mother looked at him helplessly. "You 
 mean you've got to do it here in this hotel in 
 New York!" 
 
 "Right here," said John. 
 
 She gave a little gasp. "I'm going home!" 
 she said. She turned to Anthony. "You 
 hadn't ought to have let me, Father," she said 
 reproachfully. 
 
 Anthony's eyes rested on her, half-compassion- 
 ate, and very gentle and amused. "I didn't un- 
 derstand it myself, Mother not really under- 
 stand it. They tried to explain it to me in the
 
 MOTHER'S OPINIONS 51 
 
 shop one day; but I didn't get it clear in my 
 mind. John's made it very clear." 
 
 "Oh, it's clear ! That's the trouble with it !" 
 said Mother. 
 
 There was silence in the window. . . . The 
 son looked at her and smiled "I don't want to 
 urge you, Mother; but it will be hard for 
 Father he always depends on you so." 
 
 She glanced at him quickly. 
 
 Anthony looked across to her. "I do need 
 you, Mother," he said softly. 
 
 "You needn't think I shall stay here and let 
 you go alone, Anthony. I know more about 
 your needing me than you do," she said. She 
 brushed the crumbs from her lap and stood up. 
 "Did you have our baggage all brought down?" 
 she asked. 
 
 She sailed through the filmy curtains without 
 a glance at the huge hand hanging just outside; 
 and, fortunately, she did not see the good, round, 
 solid piece of silver that dropped into it as John 
 went by.
 
 VIII 
 
 ON TRAVEL 
 
 THE boat-train to London filled slowly. Til- 
 bury Dock was alive in the darkness with the 
 pushing, jostling crowd; porters wheeling heavy 
 trunks piled with luggage, leaned upon the dark- 
 ness and trundled down the platform. The 
 crowd parted and swayed and moved slowly 
 along with them toward the train. 
 
 In the midst of it, there was Anthony, hold- 
 ing close to his umbrella, and Mother, holding 
 tight to Anthony's arm her bonnet a little 
 askew and her face puckered in its lines. It had 
 not entered into Mother's plans of foreign travel 
 to arrive in England by night, and she felt her- 
 self borne on an unknown tide into a moist black- 
 ness. Somewhere beyond it lay London and a 
 place to sleep perhaps. Out in the Thames, 
 in the deeper, thicker darkness behind, the Min- 
 
 netonka was at anchor. Through the half-twi- 
 
 52
 
 ON TRAVEL 53 
 
 light, she had crept up the river a thunder- 
 storm, with its murky light, playing strange 
 uncanny antics on the clouds. Red, mysteri- 
 ous sails had dropped down to meet them and 
 had hovered curiously about; great steamships 
 had passed silently, or had loomed against the 
 sky with their anchors fast in Thames mud. 
 Tiny lights had gleamed out, red lights, green 
 lights, yellow lights a whole world of lights 
 on the shore and on boats, growing thicker as the 
 great boat crowded up the river and came to an^ 
 chor in midstream. 
 
 Mother, in her stateroom, gathering up the 
 few last articles, had peered out of her porthole 
 at the magnificent rolling sky, and at the sheets 
 of fine rain that drove between. . . . She had 
 watched the little red sails hover about, and the 
 great motionless hulks of steamers loom past 
 and she had drawn a quick home-sick breath and 
 tied on her bonnet with fingers that trembled a 
 little. . . . She had been prepared for London 
 and its roar and hurry of streets, but not for 
 this strange, unsheltered vastness on the edge
 
 54 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 of space that she was told was England. . . . 
 It was all a vague, confused dream. She hoped 
 Anthony had the tickets, and his keys safe and 
 that Somebody knew where they were going. 
 Then she opened her stateroom door and stepped 
 valiantly out and climbed down the steamer's 
 side into the tender that waited. . . . 
 
 Anthony patted the hand that lay on his arm. 
 "We're here, Mother" he said. 
 
 "Where do you suppose they have put the 
 trunks, Anthony?" she replied swiftly. 
 
 'Til go and see," said Anthony, and slipped 
 away. 
 
 "Anthony!" she gasped . . . but there was 
 only the moving kaleidoscope of faces and black- 
 ness and twinkling lights. 
 
 Somebody bundled her into a carriage. . . . 
 Suppose he did not find her*? How could he re- 
 member where he had left her going off like 
 that among perfectly strange people! She 
 grasped the little bag tight. . . . There must 
 be some place some place for people to go who 
 were lost whose husbands were lost.
 
 ON TRAVEL 55 
 
 A strange man put his head in the door 
 "Room enough in here," he said, "come on 
 just one woman " 
 
 He placed his bag on the seat by Mother and 
 she screwed her courage tight. "My husband is 
 
 going to sit there if he comes back " she 
 
 said timidly. 
 
 The man glared at her and turned back to the 
 door. "Better go on more room farther 
 down," he said to some one behind, and they 
 surged away. And Mother was alone with her 
 little black bag the only thing in England that 
 she had ever seen before. 
 
 Bells rang shouting and slamming of doors, 
 and running feet. A man put his head in. 
 "Tickets!" he said. 
 
 Mother gulped. "I haven't any husband!" 
 she said softly. 
 
 There was a flying mist, a smile behind him, 
 and Anthony slid in and the door slammed. 
 Wheels grumbled a little and turned softly, the 
 platform began to move faces passed and 
 slipped off into the blackness. Mother, search-
 
 56 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 ing in her black bag for her handkerchief, saw 
 them blur and run away. 
 
 Anthony turned, with his gentle smile "All 
 right, Mother?" 
 
 "Don't you ever leave me again, Anthony 
 Wickham not for one minute! I might have 
 been lost." 
 
 "But you couldn't be lost in a train 
 Mother!" 
 
 "You can't tell what might be," said Mother, 
 putting the handkerchief back in her bag, and 
 snapping it close. "It's different in England 
 everything's different !" 
 
 "Yeg we're going to see new things every 
 day now," assented Anthony, glancing at the 
 black window flying by. 
 
 Mother made no response. For six days lying 
 in her berth, too weak to move, she had watched, 
 through the clumsy porthole, the sky go by and 
 a great sick green wave lifting itself and sidling 
 away into the treacherous sea; for six days she 
 had listened to the walls of her stateroom, creak- 
 ing, whispering, relaxing like a fat woman in
 
 ON TRAVEL 57 
 
 corsets ; for six days the making of a new heaven 
 and a new earth had gone on. No need to tell 
 Mother she was going to see new things; her life 
 had dissolved melted away into the mists that 
 drifted by the brass-rimmed porthole, or wiped 
 in furtive ashamed tears from her face. An- 
 thony did not see the tears ; he never once caught 
 the handkerchief drying forlornly on the edge of 
 its berth; and to all his cheerful enquiries there 
 was the same plucky, wrinkled-up assurance 
 "Yes, feeling better, thank you but not quite 
 like getting up to-day." 
 
 It seemed, in some ways, a pity that Anthony 
 should not have been the one to succumb to the 
 sea ; for Anthony had a dozen remedies a dozen 
 of them and more. Each of the ministers had 
 given him, with the list of Madonnas and tombs 
 and gateways, an infallible remedy; they had 
 not tried it themselves, but each had it from 
 some reliable source; and it was absolutely in- 
 fallible absolutely. They had given him also 
 vivid accounts of their state of being on ship- 
 board all of which they might have been spared
 
 58 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 if they had known beforehand of the one infal- 
 lible . . . Anthony, secure in gentleness of 
 soul, had not needed the remedy; and Mother's 
 state of being was so unlike those described by 
 his infallible advisers that Anthony had not rec- 
 ognised it. 
 
 So Mother had worried through as best she 
 could; and she was entering valiantly and for- 
 lornly upon a new year in which everything was 
 going to be different. . . . She crept a little 
 closer into her shell and steadied herself against 
 the jolting of the train, and nodded, half asleep 
 one hand clasped tight in Anthony's, lest he 
 should slip away again, and she should be 
 lost. . . . The train jolted into her slumbers 
 and knit them and gathered them up and she 
 was back in Bolton and the canary was singing 
 in his cage and the geraniums in blossom in the 
 window. 
 
 But Anthony, sitting erect beside her, held by 
 the motion of the quick-running train, was not 
 thinking of Bolton. His mind ran ahead to 
 the streets and the people that waited for him.
 
 ON TRAVEL 59 
 
 He had not known, sitting at his bench, mending 
 shoes, how much he longed for people. There 
 had always been Simon to talk to, and the big 
 man and Samuel but they said the same things 
 over and over; and Anthony's mind, travelling 
 into new worlds and coming back, alive with 
 thought, had met always the same old answers 
 the same fly-specked, dreary round of conjecture 
 and assurance. But now, for six days, he had 
 lived ... a Scientist, leaning on the rail of the 
 boat, with his back to the sea, had talked to him 
 of opsonin and entropy; a Doctor of Divinity 
 had presented him with "Q"; a Syndicalist, 
 moving in continental grooves, had held the 
 world by the throat for him and shaken it with 
 long vindictive fingers till gold and silver 
 dropped from its pockets and rolled on the deck 
 before them, and Anthony and the Syndicalist 
 had only to stoop and gather them up by hand- 
 fuls but they would not even stoop the Cap- 
 italist should pick it up for them, and present 
 it, hat in hand, and say, "Thank you, sir." 
 And the Syndicalist had paced the deck, his hat
 
 60 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 off, his hair rumpled by the breeze of heaven 
 and his own lively ideas. There had been a 
 promoter, too, who would have made Anthony 
 rich within a month if all his available money 
 had not been safe in the little bag under Mother's 
 pillow. Every one on board, it seemed to An- 
 thony, had talked and he had drunk in their 
 words and paced the deck, the wind blowing 
 his coat about his thin legs and taking him 
 off his feet if he turned a sudden corner. . . . 
 Between the new ideas that surged within, and 
 the winds that buffeted, it seemed to him at times 
 that his feet were not on the deck of a great 
 steady-rolling boat, but moving in cloud-lit ways. 
 He bet on the boat's run and took a childlike 
 pleasure in the bits of silver lying in his palm. 
 It did not occur to him that Mother would dis- 
 approve; but, by the help of his good angel, he 
 did not mention them to her. So Mother, jolt- 
 ing sleepily beside him, had one less care for her 
 troubled soul. The little pieces of silver would 
 have shown her Anthony's slender feet set in the 
 downward way.
 
 ON TRAVEL 61 
 
 But now, in the rumbling train, her hand 
 clasped a tower of strength. At home, Anthony 
 was only a reed, blown by the wind of thought. 
 He made and mended shoes; but one did not 
 trust him with serious affairs buying the win- 
 ter's coal and selecting shirts. . . . Here, in 
 this desert of strangeness, and speeding toward 
 a greater strangeness, he was somehow inex- 
 plicably another Anthony. . . . But, when 
 all was said and done, he was only Anthony. 
 
 The train came to a pause and he put his head 
 out of the window and looked up and down the 
 platform doors were being thrown open por- 
 ters crowded in. He gathered up his hand-bag 
 and stepped out, Mother holding him fast. 
 
 Then, suddenly, she dropped the hand she 
 held, and darted forward and threw herself 
 upon a big man and clasped him close. The 
 big man bent a little, and smiled, and reached 
 out a free hand to Anthony 
 
 "It's Wally, Father!" sobbed Mother val- 
 iantly. "It's Wally Tilton ! I knew there'd be 
 somebody here to take care of us !"
 
 IX 
 
 WALLACE TILTON AND APPLES 
 
 IT did not seem a minute before Wallace Tilton 
 had gathered them up and placed them in a taxi- 
 cab; the porter trundled up with trunks and 
 bags, thumping them on the roof and stowing 
 them in front, and they were off through the 
 whirring, turning London streets. 
 
 Mother glanced from the window, but it was 
 only a blur sprinkling lights half-seen shops 
 flying signs and close beside them a friendly 
 honk honk-honk honk-honk-honk! . . . She 
 looked across to Wallace Tilton, sitting oppo- 
 site, and smiled a round, happy, competent 
 smile. 
 
 "You come and sit here, Wally." She patted 
 the ample seat beside her. "There's plenty of 
 room between us yes. It's more comfortable 
 to sit close." 
 
 And Wally moved over between the two 
 6*
 
 WALLACE TILTON AND APPLES 63 
 
 with a sudden pleased sense of being a boy. He 
 had not known Mrs. Wickham very well in 
 Bolton. She had been only John Wickham' s 
 mother to him when they played ball together 
 and went in swimming. As he had paced up and 
 down the platform, waiting for the boat-train, 
 he had tried to recall how she looked ; but he had 
 had only a confused sense of something round 
 and lively and a sudden taste of apples in his 
 mouth. When he saw her descend from the 
 carriage, clinging to Anthony's hand, her f:.ce 
 had flashed him back through thousands of miles 
 two cookies and an apple for each of them 
 always how could he have forgotten her! 
 And while his respectable leather feet carried 
 him to the cab and back and looked after luggage 
 and fees, his real feet were twinkling down the 
 streets of Bolton grass and pebbles tickling the 
 bare soles and he shouted, nibbling cookies and 
 apples, as he went. . . . 
 
 "Did you have a comfortable voyage*?" he 
 asked, looking down in the swift-moving dark- 
 ness on Mother's bonnet.
 
 64 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 "Very nice," said Mother promptly. "You 
 tell him where we're going to, Anthony. . . . 
 He's got it on a piece of paper John wrote it 
 out for him " 
 
 "I guess Wally knows where we're going to 
 stay, Mother." 
 
 "How should he know, Father 4 ? We didn't 
 know, ourselves till just before we started, did 
 we?' 
 
 "No " said Anthony. He did not like to 
 mention cablegrams. He knew how serenely 
 Mother's face was beaming beyond Wally's big 
 shoulder; and his fingers searched obediently for 
 the slip of paper. 
 
 "It's pretty lucky Wally happened to be going 
 by just as our train got in," said Mother slowly. 
 "It's more than lucky " she added thought- 
 fully. "It's one of those things you can't ex- 
 plain." 
 
 And neither Anthony nor Wallace tried to. 
 
 "That's the place," said Anthony. He 
 handed over the slip of paper.
 
 WALLACE TILTON AND APPLES 65 
 
 "All right," responded Wallace, and tucked 
 it into his pocket. 
 
 It was the unexpected beginning of an under- 
 standing between them. Wallace Tilton was 
 not stupid; he himself would have admitted 
 that he had cut his eye-teeth; and while An- 
 thony had not cut his teeth, he had lived with 
 Mother thirty years. Her serene little faiths 
 shining upon the ways of Providence, were not 
 things to be tampered with. 
 
 They turned out of the roar of Haymarket 
 into a side street and a sudden hush a sense of 
 slipping forward on silence. Wallace glanced 
 at the dark shops on either side "We're nearly 
 there," he said. 
 
 Mother straightened her bonnet furtively in 
 the darkness and clasped her bag tight. 
 
 The "taxi" came to rest before a great door, 
 and Mother peered out. A single gas-jet above 
 the entrance lighted up the front of the house, 
 a staid, old-fashioned house, blocking the end 
 of the still little street. From the distance came
 
 66 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 soft-purring sounds and faded honks honk- 
 honk-honks passing dreamily over the roofs. 
 "It looks like a nice place," said Mother. 
 
 "It is a nice place," said Wallace, stepping 
 from the cab. "At least they say so." 
 
 The door had swung open before them and a 
 little old woman, with softly-crimped white 
 hair under its muslin cap and meek-folded hands, 
 stood in the arched doorway looking out at them 
 with keen, quiet eyes. Mother stepped quickly 
 out, and the figure in the door moved a little 
 back with an air of quaint stiffness that was like 
 a curtsey. 
 
 "We have been expecting you," she said; 
 "your son cabled you would be here to-night." 
 She took down a bunch of keys from a nail in 
 the hall. 
 
 Mother turned back to the door "She's heard 
 from John, Anthony to-day! Come right in. 
 How did you know it was us?" 
 
 Her landlady smiled a little. "We were ex- 
 pecting Americans," she said discreetly.
 
 WALLACE TILTON AND APPLES 67 
 
 "And you knew I was American the first 
 thing 4 ?" 
 
 "Yes." She smiled again and led the way 
 into an office. "Show these guests to Number 
 Ten." She handed the bunch of keys to a smart 
 young woman who came forward. "We can 
 make you comfortable in Number Ten to-night, 
 and to-morrow I shall give you a better room. 
 I hope you will find everything you need." She 
 dismissed them with her little dip that was half 
 benediction, half curtsey, and Mother followed 
 the jingling bunch of keys to Number Ten. 
 
 "It's much nicer than New York!" she said. 
 
 The door had closed behind the smart young 
 woman and Mother had taken off her bonnet and 
 deposited it in a bureau drawer a whole bureau 
 drawer to itself with almost a wicked sense of 
 roominess. 
 
 Wallace Tilton smiled a little. He glanced 
 about the small, stuffy apartment. "You like 
 it better than New York, do you?" 
 
 "It's more like home," said Mother.
 
 68 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 "Yes it's homelike and quaint. I suppose 
 it's about the last place of its kind in London. 
 It was just like John to think of it for you; 
 you'll be comfortable here." 
 
 "We shall like it real well," said Mother; and 
 the familiar, half -forgotten phrase carried the 
 big man of business back again to the boy. 
 
 He held out his hand. "Good-night; you 
 have my address, you'll be sure to let me know 
 if there's anything I can do ?" 
 
 Mother took the hand tight, as if she heard 
 all London roaring out there to devour her. 
 "You'll come and see us every day, won't you, 
 Wally? I don't know how we should have got 
 along without you !" She held his hand, still 
 looking up at him a little wistfully. 
 
 Wallace Tilton's mother was dead. He did 
 not think of her often but he had a sudden, 
 swift sense that he had missed something, as he 
 looked down at the wrinkled face. "I'll come 
 as often as you want me to," he said. "Glad 
 to come!" 
 
 Then he had gone. And Mother had patted
 
 WALLACE TILTON AND APPLES 69 
 
 the pillows and looked in the empty wardrobe 
 and unpacked three bags with a still, sunny face. 
 
 "I don't see as Wally's changed a mite," she 
 said. "He looks to me just about the same as 
 he did when he was little." 
 
 And Wallace, strolling along by the big stone 
 lions, stopped to light a cigarette, and smiled as 
 the smoke curled softly about his face. He 
 threw away the match with a quick puff. . . . 
 It would probably be a great bore but there 
 was something about them . . . He strolled 
 on with a little fresh, quick laughter stirring 
 somewhere in his heart.
 
 X 
 
 A CITY BY NIGHT 
 
 MOTHER, on her comfortable pillow, dreamed of 
 Bolton and the canary. Only the faintest 
 whispers of the wicked city reached her. Up 
 and down the Strand, the river of faces flowed 
 vacuous, moving lips, dull-heavy feet chatter 
 and blank, and half-souled eyes looking 
 out. 
 
 Anthony Wickham felt the sluggish tide, and 
 turned on his pillow. Up against the sky, a 
 great electric glow crept rosily and spread itself; 
 and he lay looking at it, listening to the muffled 
 city the ceaseless honk of horns, waiting, call- 
 ing, calling. 
 
 He rose softly and tiptoed across the room 
 and dressed himself and slipped out, with quick, 
 soft-clicking turn of the latch. Down in the 
 clang and rush, his feet guiding him as if they 
 
 remembered, the Strand drew him, sucked him 
 
 70
 
 A CITY BY NIGHT 71 
 
 in and bore him on the heavy-running Strand, 
 with its weight of life, moving forever out of the 
 past, riot and colour and laugh shrunk to a 
 dead-brown stream. . . . Overhead the lights 
 blinked and twinkled and stared, with cold, 
 steady glare white lights, shining on a past. 
 But Anthony Wickham, pressing close among 
 the crowd, drifting with it, stopping at shop 
 windows, staring at theatre-bills, drifting on, 
 felt only the pulse of life, the great, new surg- 
 ing life behind the eyes and the faces strug- 
 gling out. He pressed close. People enough 
 at last! His gentle, smiling eyes rested on 
 them. No one looked at him or cared. 
 But somehow Anthony Wickham gathered them 
 up all of them into his hungry heart and 
 talked with them all these friends. . . . Bol- 
 ton was safe with Mother and the canary in its 
 cage. The great 'buses clanged and swayed, and 
 he looked at the tops at the jolting, soaring 
 heads and hats and laughed softly . . . and 
 the feet on the pavement rose and fell, rose 
 and fell He had a sudden dim sense of
 
 72 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 Samuel at his bench, tapping forever and the 
 fat face changed to a thousand eyes a woman's 
 feather floated out a blue, long feather, like a 
 cloud the hats and shoulders bobbed, and rose 
 and fell rose and fell to the beating pulse. 
 Some one jostled him, and he looked down; a 
 bleared old hand had thrust a box of matches in 
 his face, and Anthony felt in his pockets. 
 Surely, he had some change, some silver and 
 those great copper wheels he remembered how 
 heavy they were; his fingers came out empty, 
 and he shook his head. . . . The beggar's dull- 
 fixed eyes rested on him . . . and roved away, 
 and came back, and the matches thrust them- 
 selves with a whine. Anthony shook his head 
 and put his hands in his pockets, turning them 
 slowly inside out. . . . The beggar's grin 
 drifted on, dirty, toothless shuffle-shuffle, lock- 
 and-shuffle. . . . Anthony's eyes followed the 
 shuffle, the bent back and dipping coat and the 
 crowd came between. In a doorway, an old 
 woman, dozing above her crumpled flow- 
 ers, looked up and jerked them forth, "Pen'-
 
 A CITY BY NIGHT 73 
 
 a-bunch, pen'-a-bunch " she mumbled, and 
 
 dropped back into muzzy, trembling nods. 
 Anthony's eyes rested on her she jerked herself 
 and held them forth, "Pen'-a-bunch pen'-a- 
 
 a " she warbled, and collapsed. Anthony 
 
 hesitated a moment, and stepped over to her, lift- 
 ing her head a little till it rested against the side 
 of the door. "Pen'-a-bun' " she ground out. 
 
 A man and woman passing gave a little glance 
 of amusement. "Drunk as a fool !" murmured 
 the man. "Disgusting!" said the woman, with 
 a half-glance of pity. 
 
 A big blue uniform appeared in the crowd 
 and moved with solid foot straight ahead. 
 Under the high, inflexible helmet, a pair of keen 
 eyes looked out and a little smile fixed itself on 
 space. Law and order passed by the crowd 
 closed in, and jostled elbows and felt the shel- 
 ter of the blue arm reach above them. Over the 
 way, a church dark-based, with delicate, 
 springing tower lifted itself in the midst of the 
 Strand. Anthony looked up to it and crossed 
 over. The roar of 'buses pounded about him
 
 74 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 and filled him with din. Up and down the 
 Strand the traffic swirled; and around the 
 church, taxis shuttled and thrust with swift, 
 burring hum, hoofs patted the pavement, click- 
 ing by. And in the midst of the roll and roar, 
 the little church rose softly bank of heaven 
 post-office to the eternal soul-shop, Dwelling 
 of the Most High . . . Toot-toot! Toot-toot- 
 clang ! Clang- toot-toot-too t-toot! 
 
 Anthony walked around the church and turned 
 into a little, silent street, where the roaring of 
 the Strand behind seemed suddenly lightened and 
 free. He looked back to it, at the traffic rush- 
 ing swiftly across the end; then he turned 
 and descended the little street till the rumble had 
 dwindled to a whisper behind. Before him rows 
 of lights glanced out, rows of lights to right and 
 left, and in the distance before him great shows 
 of coloured moving bulbs making pictures on the 
 dark. Anthony stared at them and moved on 
 and crossed the wide street in front of him and 
 came to the parapet. He leaned on it, looking
 
 A CITY BY NIGHT 75 
 
 down slow sluggish Thames, flowing with the 
 Strand. 
 
 He stood a long time, looking down at the 
 Thames. He did not know that he was look- 
 ing on the source of England's greatness, flow- 
 ing always to the sea, the anchorage that 
 tempted rovers in, and built a city there, greatest 
 of cities, and mingled tongues and races. . . . 
 Slow-moving, sluggish English Thames. . . . 
 In the distance, rows of bridges spanned it with 
 light-flung arch; and beneath them moved the 
 muddy, ceaseless tide. Something of its sinister 
 meaning crept up to Anthony and he turned away 
 slowly. ... A great archway spanned the 
 road and something lying at the side of it with- 
 in the span caught his eye; he bent forward and 
 peered at it and looked again ... a man, 
 close against the arch, fallen perhaps too weak 
 to move. Anthony bent te him. Then his eye 
 fell on another form beyond and another 
 and he saw them stretching into the dimness of 
 the arch asleep on the stones. He straight-
 
 76 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 cned himself and stepped out of the arch and 
 looked up at the sky somewhere above. "I 
 mustn't let Mother know about it. Mother 
 couldn't sleep if she knew about that !"
 
 XI 
 
 MOTHER AND LONDON 
 
 MOTHER rose with the lark the London lark. 
 She went softly about the room not to wake 
 Anthony, who was still sleeping. He had not 
 slept as late as this since they left Bolton. On 
 the steamer he had been up, every morning be- 
 fore the sun, watching it from the boat's rail 
 and coming down to tell her of its glories. It 
 would be a long time before Mother could listen 
 to a sunrise without a little qualm. 
 
 She did up her hair in its tight, competent 
 "knob and finished dressing and polished her 
 spectacles; she did not put them on; she only 
 needed them for fine work, for reading and sew- 
 ing and brushing Anthony's clothes. 
 
 There was a knock at the door and she looked 
 doubtfully across the room. Then she tiptoed 
 to the door and opened it. A young man, with 
 
 neatly-pointed moustache and lifted eyebrows, 
 
 77
 
 78 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 bowed himself to her. Mother nodded back, 
 holding the door safe. 
 
 "Will Madam breakfast here, or in the break- 
 fast-room 4 ?" 
 
 Madam glanced helplessly at Anthony, and 
 back at the impassive moustache; she took her 
 American courage in her hands "We don't 
 want it yet he's asleep," she whispered. 
 
 "As you say, Madam." He held out a card 
 to her "Madam can order when she likes." 
 
 Mother closed the door on the stately, retreat- 
 ing steps and sat down, trembling a little. She 
 had had her first encounter with a foreigner 
 and she was alive! She looked down at the 
 menu, and reached for her glasses. 
 
 When Anthony woke, she was still absorbed 
 in the permutations and combinations of an Eng- 
 lish breakfast. Half an hour later when, with 
 Anthony's help, she had selected ham and eggs, 
 potatoes and coffee and rolls from scheme 
 marked "table d'hote," and costing something 
 that Mother figured into thirty-six cents, she 
 sighed a little.
 
 MOTHER AND LONDON 79- 
 
 "It's dreadful high for a breakfast! But we 
 must have something to eat " 
 
 Anthony comforted her. "John told you not 
 to think too much about what things cost," he 
 reminded her. "He'd want us to have good 
 breakfasts, you know as good as we'd have at 
 home." 
 
 "I don't suppose he'd want us to go hungry,"" 
 assented Mother. 
 
 And when they were seated in the high, old- 
 fashioned room, close to a latticed window look- 
 ing upon a little court, the savoury breakfast 
 spread before them, even Mother's soul relaxed. 
 
 "I declare, it is a nice place, Anthony! I 
 don't know but I shall like England " She 
 mused it slowly, chewing rosy bits of ham. 
 
 Anthony's glance moved to her as he stirred 
 his coffee. "It's like most countries, I guess, 
 Mother, good and bad, rich and poor " he 
 stopped suddenly. He had not meant to men- 
 tion poor. 
 
 But Mother chatted comfortably on and ate 
 her breakfast as if the great beast out there were
 
 8o THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 not waiting to devour her and every one 
 in its fierce fangs. 
 
 As the day went on, it became evident that 
 the beast would have very little chance to feast 
 on Mother. After breakfast she announced that 
 she had sewing to do, and she got out her work- 
 basket and scissors and seated herself by the win- 
 dow as serene as if the canary were singing 
 overhead and the geraniums blossoming in the 
 sun. There was no sun in her London window; 
 it opened into a court of skylights and high 
 chimneys, with walls rising about it; but it was 
 very quiet and Mother, sitting by it, cut and 
 stitched and snipped in safety. To all An- 
 thony's overtures she turned a deaf ear. 
 
 "I want to get a new collar on your coat be- 
 fore dark, Anthony. I ought to 'a' done it be- 
 fore we left home. It isn't hardly fit to be 
 seen " she held it up. 
 
 "But that's my winter coat, Mother! I 
 shan't need a winter coat for months " 
 
 "You can't tell what you may need in
 
 MOTHER AND LONDON 81 
 
 London," said Mother. "It's different!" She 
 spoke sternly, out of a mouthful of pins, and 
 went on stitching and turning, her face absorbed 
 in its work. 
 
 "You run along out and see things," she added 
 after a little. "You can tell me about it when 
 you come in." 
 
 So Anthony had wandered forth into the great 
 town; he had mounted 'buses and journeyed 
 through stale suburbs and back; he had wandered 
 in the parks, and watched the children play. 
 And Mother, anchored safe to her coat, had 
 listened to his tales of adventure with her round, 
 wrinkled smile and beamed on him. 
 
 "I'm glad you've seen everything," she said. 
 "You'll feel more at home now you've seen 
 everything." 
 
 Anthony shook his head with the slow, gentle 
 smile he had. "There is considerable to see in 
 London," he said. 
 
 Mother looked at him over her glasses. 
 "Didn't you go all over town?" she asked.
 
 82 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 Anthony smiled a little. "Not quite, Mother; 
 there are a few things left to see side streets 
 left, I reckon." 
 
 Mother returned to her work. After a little 
 she spoke again. "Wallace'll take us," she said. 
 
 And at four o'clock Wallace appeared in morn- 
 ing-suit and faultless tie. He had told himself 
 that he would run in for tea just to see that 
 they were getting on all right. Probably they 
 would be out so much the better 
 
 But Mother, sitting by her window with her 
 sewing scattered comfortably about her, could 
 hardly be described as "out." She had gone 
 to the dining-room for a hasty luncheon, and re- 
 turned with renewed zeal. 
 
 "I haven't had such a good time to sew, in 
 years," she said, slipping on her thimble and 
 plunging into work. 
 
 When Wallace appeared at four o'clock, she 
 looked up triumphant. "Just finished !" she 
 said. "Look's good as new, doesn't it!" She 
 held it up before him. 
 
 Wallace inspected it with laughing eye
 
 MOTHER AND LONDON 83 
 
 "You ought to have been a tailor," he declared. 
 
 "I took plenty of time to it," said Mother 
 modestly. "I wasn't hurried. I turned the lin- 
 ing all through, you see." She hung it care- 
 fully on its hook and came back to the window. 
 
 "By the way," said Wallace, "how would you 
 like to go out to tea with me 1 ?" He asked it 
 casually; it had occurred to him that tea might 
 not be forthcoming; and Wallace was devoted 
 to his tea, as devoted as any Englishman and 
 more. 
 
 Mother glanced quickly up at the bit of sky 
 over her court. "Is it as late as that!" she ex- 
 claimed. "I'd no idea it was supper time." 
 
 He smiled at the good old word. "Well, not 
 quite supper time, perhaps, but we might get a 
 cup of tea somewhere." 
 
 "I'll be ready in a minute," said Mother, and 
 tied her bonnet-strings under her round chin; 
 and they set forth into London. 
 
 "Father's told me a good deal about it," she 
 said, trotting contentedly on. "He's been out 
 most all day, seeing things My, what a racket !"
 
 84 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 She put her hands over her ears and looked up 
 at him appeal ingly. 
 
 They had turned suddenly out of the side street 
 into the din of Piccadilly into the very heart 
 of the Circus and she shouted the last words 
 helplessly up at him. 
 
 He bent to her, smiling, and tucked her hand 
 in his arm. "You'll be all right!" he said. 
 "Just shut your eyes and go along." And 
 Mother suddenly felt herself lifted, almost bod- 
 ily, from her feet on Wallace's strong arm, and 
 half borne through the crowd, her feet barely 
 touching the stones taxis, horses, 'buses, men 
 and women surged about her thrusting on a 
 horse's head loomed above her and gave way to 
 a great, shooting 'bus that turned suddenly into 
 a small boy, pushing his cart before him, and be- 
 came a fat man running down the swift-moving 
 taxi that dwindled sharply to a little round 
 woman in a bonnet, sobbing almost hysterically 
 on the sidewalk. ... "I never saw anything 
 like it Wallace!" she gasped. 
 
 He patted the hand on his arm and steadied
 
 MOTHER AND LONDON 85 
 
 her through the crowd. "There, there 
 Mother !" The word slipped out unawares, and 
 she looked up, smiling quaveringly at him. 
 
 "I knew you wouldn't let anything happen to 
 me," she said. "But a crowd always confuses 
 me a little someway." 
 
 "Game little woman!" said Wallace under 
 his breath. . . . He need not have said it un- 
 der his breath ; he might have shouted it aloud 
 very loud indeed. Mother would not have 
 heard. Her ears were filled with siren calls and 
 with the swift-moving, clanging din of Picca- 
 dilly.
 
 XII 
 
 IN A TEA-ROOM 
 
 THE tea-room was spacious flowers and palms, 
 music playing, soft chatter and talk; spoons 
 clicked, little silver tea-pots clinked on their 
 trays; and through it all, behind the palms, the 
 music played softly. 
 
 Under a great, shading palm, Mother looked 
 about her with pleased eyes. "It's a nice place 
 when you get to it," she said. 
 
 Wallace nodded. "One of the best." They 
 had finished their tea, and he sat with a cigarette 
 in his fingers, rolling it slowly. "You don't 
 mind if I smoke*?" 
 
 "Not a mite. John smokes when he's home. 
 I didn't like it but it's good for the plants. 
 They always do better when John's home." 
 She beamed on him. 
 
 He smiled a little and bent over for a match, 
 and her eyes fell on the cigarette "Mercy! 
 
 Is that what you're going to smoke!" 
 
 86
 
 IN A TEA-ROOM 87 
 
 He drew in a breath from the lighted 
 match, turning his eyes to her with a smile as 
 he let it out in the little puffs of billowy 
 smoke 
 
 She watched them fade. "Makes me think 
 of grapevine," she said. "John used to smoke 
 that." 
 
 He nodded. "We both did." 
 
 "I know. You was always up to the same 
 things! Seems queer now, with all these con- 
 traptions around to think of your going bare- 
 foot " 
 
 Wallace laughed, a little touch of constraint 
 in his face. A group had come into the balcony 
 at the right and were looking down at him. One 
 of the women raised her eyebrows with a quick 
 look at his companion and nodded gaily. Wal- 
 lace returned the salute turning his shoulder, 
 ever so slightly. A merry laugh drifted down 
 and the party settled into their places; waiters 
 moved among them and gay chatter of talk and 
 laughter came over the railing. There was a 
 freedom about the group, a little half-conscious
 
 88 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 ignoring of the audience, that made people turn 
 to look at them. 
 
 "Friends of yours 1 ?" asked Mother. She was 
 beaming up at them with round, open gaze. 
 
 "Not exactly friends," said Wallace, 
 " people I know." 
 
 He turned his shoulder squarely on them and 
 devoted himself to Mother. He was a happy 
 host when he chose to be, as several women in 
 the group above could testify, and Mother ex- 
 panded under his attentions, like a child. She 
 confided to him her trials since this wild project 
 entered John's head all her difficulty in get- 
 ting ready for it her fears and her present 
 anxiety and ignorance in the great, unknown 
 town. ... "I feel as if I didn't know any- 
 thing!" she said. "I can't even understand 
 what they say half the time. There was some 
 folks at breakfast this morning they were talk- 
 ing same as we are now and not much farther 
 off than you are, and I couldn't understand what 
 they said ! I knew it was English. I could get 
 a good English word, now and then, but it
 
 IN A TEA-ROOM 89 
 
 wasn't like anything I ever heard they kind of 
 run up and down so singing-like, and not ex- 
 actly singing either. ... I don't see what I 
 am going to do if I can't understand the lan- 
 guage!" She looked at him, pathetically, and 
 Wallace smiled. 
 
 "You see how quick you'll get used to it," he 
 said encouragingly. "I almost never think of it 
 now." 
 
 She leaned toward him a little "That's the 
 worst of it, Wally I don't want to get used to 
 it and we've got to stay a year!" 
 
 Wallace laughed out. "You'll like it before 
 you've been here a month you see if you don't." 
 
 But Mother only breathed a virtuous sigh "I 
 hope I shan't Wallace. . . . Anthony likes 
 it. He always does like things different. He's 
 just that way when he's home won't keep his 
 collars in the same corner of the bureau drawer, 
 two weeks running. I have to keep putting 'em 
 back for him!" She sighed again. "And 
 everything costs so! How much do you suppose 
 we paid for our breakfast, Wally *?"
 
 90 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 He blew a little wave of smoke. "Oh two- 
 and-six, perhaps I don't know what they do 
 charge there." 
 
 "Would you mind speaking slower, Wallace 
 just a little mite slower*? You kind o' run up 
 and down too. You didn't say twenty-six?" 
 
 "No two-and-six." 
 
 "That makes eight!" said Mother. "I told 
 you everything was different!" 
 
 So, in the great palm room, to the sound of 
 music, with waiters moving on noiseless feet and 
 little cups clinking about her, Mother learned 
 the system of English coinage. 
 
 With the card on the table before them, Wal- 
 lace gave her a first lesson, pointing to shillings 
 and pence with the half -smoked end of his cig- 
 arette, and drawing on the cigarette with amused 
 breath while Mother's mind grasped the items 
 and dealt with them. 
 
 "You're going to pay four shillings and six- 
 pence for what we've had here?" She made a 
 swift computation "It's one dollar, twelve and 
 a half cents," she said.
 
 IN A TEA-ROOM 91 
 
 "And the fee " said Wallace, wickedly, 
 
 out of his little cloud of smoke. 
 
 Mother turned a speechless, shattered face on 
 him. . . . "Does it seem all right to you, 
 Wally? I feel as if I was out of my head or 
 something!" 
 
 "You're all right Mother " 
 
 "I like to hear you call me that," she said. 
 
 He nodded. "Yes, I'm going to call you 
 'Mother.' " 
 
 She looked at him with swift thought "We 
 must 'a' paid more than thirty-six cents for our 
 breakfast." Her eyes were on the shillings and 
 pence. "It must 'a' been 'three-and-six* apiece, 
 and that's one dollar and seventy-five cents!" 
 
 Half an hour later, in the quiet of their own 
 room, Mother had revealed to Anthony the abyss 
 on which they stood. "It's likely to cost us 
 seventy-five dollars a week to stay here," she 
 said. 
 
 Anthony looked about him at the peaceful 
 little room. "It doesn't look so dreadful expen-
 
 92 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 sive, does it, Mother*? I went into a place to- 
 day, down the road a piece, where they had 
 flowers and pictures and lace curtains I should 
 have known that would cost, but " 
 
 "Wallace says it's these quiet places that 
 charge the highest sometimes," said Mother. 
 "They charge for being old, I guess. He says 
 there are folks that always have come here and 
 always will; they'll keep on coming no matter 
 what they charge ! And so they charge / can't 
 understand it !" she said helplessly. 
 
 "I suppose it's like folks bringing their shoes 
 to me instead of taking them to Gibson *?" 
 
 "Gibson!" Mother said the word with the 
 finest touch of scorn. "Gibson !" 
 
 "He's cheaper " said Anthony. 
 
 "I wouldn't let Gibson do a pair of shoes for 
 me not if I was starving!" said Mother. 
 "Wallace is going to look up a place for us. I 
 told him we couldn't stay here!" 
 
 "John wanted us to come here," said An- 
 thony. He had a picture of Mother sitting by 
 her window with her sewing peacefully spread
 
 IN A TEA-ROOM 93 
 
 about her and, beside it, the pretentious hotels 
 that he had seen to-day, on the crowded streets. 
 He could not fancy Mother with her sewing 
 in one of those places. "Don't you think we'd 
 
 better " 
 
 "Wallace is going to get us a place to-mor- 
 row," said Mother firmly, "a place to keep house 
 in."
 
 XIII 
 
 WALLACE GOES HOUSE-HUNTING 
 
 UNDER the appealing look in Mother's eyes, 
 Wallace had promised. But the more he re- 
 flected, the more difficult the thing grew to look. 
 There were plenty of little flats. Wallace had 
 occupied little flats himself. He smiled to 
 think of Mother's round goodness in some of 
 them and they were expensive. His mind left 
 Mayfair and ranged through Whitechapel and 
 model tenements, and dwelt on Garden Cities 
 with a shivering excursion to Brixton and Cam- 
 den Town and Wormwood Scrubbs and came 
 back to Mayfair and the parks. He thought of 
 a little house in Highgate; but he had a sudden 
 sense that Highgate was very far away he could 
 not run in every day, as he had promised Mother 
 he would do, till she grew used to things. . . . 
 London did not seem adapted to small, round 
 
 94
 
 WALLACE GOES HOUSE-HUNTING 95 
 
 women in bonnets who made you think of 
 apples and cookies and who gave you the quick, 
 light-hearted feeling of going barefooted in a 
 palm room! . . . His mind travelled up and 
 down the Strand and veered to the Embankment 
 and came to a sudden halt. He was looking 
 up at the Temple buildings lifting themselves, 
 grey and grim, to Fleet Street The Vintons had 
 lived there Where were the Vintons *? 
 
 Wallace could not remember where the Vin- 
 tons were, but he remembered very clearly going 
 to see them in the Inner Temple the queer, 
 stuffed-in little place; and in a flash, he saw 
 Mother happily installed and Wallace Tilton 
 running in to see her every day till she got 
 used to things! 
 
 Wallace Tilton had been house-hunting be- 
 fore but not in the Temple. His usual method 
 was to stroll into an office in the afternoon, se- 
 lect a set of rooms that he thought would suit 
 him, look it over casually the next day and accept 
 the key. His instinct told him that his usual
 
 96 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 method might not work in the Temple. The 
 Temple was a world by itself. 
 
 He began with the porter at the gate a per- 
 sonage in silk hat, brass buttons and trimmings, 
 who had no knowledge of furnished rooms to 
 be sublet; but after looking thoughtfully at a 
 piece of silver lying in his hand, he remembered 
 that sometimes gentlemen going away did sub- 
 let, furnished yes. . . . The treasurer had 
 charge of letting chambers. Quite so good- 
 day, sir. . . . Wallace mounted the hill of 
 Middle Temple Lane, elated, and passed through 
 Pump Court, where a multitude of sparrows 
 twittered shrilly in the trees as if innumerable 
 little glass balls hung among the branches and 
 swayed and tinkled in a wind; he crossed the 
 low- vaulted Cloisters beyond, and another Court, 
 and went down a dark flight of steps and laid his 
 request before the treasurer who looked at him, 
 and smikd, a little superior English smile. 
 
 "h is against the rules for any tenant of the 
 Temple to sublet any person doing it forfeits 
 his lease." He said it crisply and neatly and
 
 WALLACE GOES HOUSE-HUNTING 97 
 
 looked at Wallace with his bland smile the 
 smile that could not understand how any one 
 could be so ignorant of a primary law of 
 nature. 
 
 Wallace stared back. "But I have friends 
 who " 
 
 The treasurer still smiled. "I have never 
 known of its being done," he said politely. 
 
 Wallace looked at him again "Thank 
 
 you," he said slowly. "I have come to the 
 wrong place I see*?" 
 
 "The last place in the world," assented the 
 treasurer almost cordially. 
 
 "Do you suppose there is any one who has 
 ever er heard of its being done?" 
 
 The treasurer examined his nails, and looked 
 carelessly at Wallace's coat. "The Wig-maker 
 may have heard of something of the kind he 
 is centrally located yes just beyond the 
 Cloisters It is quite against the rules, you un- 
 derstand?" 
 
 "Quite so," said Wallace. "Thank you " 
 
 and he sought the Wig-maker, blessing and curs-
 
 98 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 ing, for the thousandth time, the nation that sees 
 only what it is compelled to see. 
 
 The Wig-maker seated on a high-stool before 
 his effigy, turning it with skilful, lady-like fin- 
 gers, looked up. His heavy brown moustache 
 was oiled, his hair shone with gloss, and his ex- 
 pression had a kind of childlike patience some- 
 thing just short of shining. He admitted, 
 wearily, that he knew of chambers, and took 
 down a handful of keys. Wallace followed him 
 up innumerable flights of stone steps and 
 wooden steps; he began to understand the look 
 of weariness in the Wig-maker's face. 
 
 Interest in the chambers, the Wig-maker had 
 not. He threw open the door of each set, with 
 the same look of infantile patience. Take it, or 
 leave it but don't expect him to be concerned 
 in it. In the intervals his mind was probably 
 engaged in flights of wig-making. 
 
 To Wallace, peering into cupboards and look- 
 ing under sinks, with a haunting memory of 
 Mother's kitchen, there was something oppressive 
 in the Wig-maker's aloofness.
 
 WALLACE GOES HOUSE-HUNTING 99 
 
 "This seems like a good set," he remarked 
 cheerfully. 
 
 "Some people like it," responded the Wig- 
 maker; and Wallace saw the place in its true 
 light the walls were dirty, and the rugs frayed 
 dust everywhere "I don't think it will do," 
 he said slowly. "Have you anything more?" 
 
 "One more," said the Wig-maker, and they 
 toiled up four flights to a set under the eaves. 
 "Sea-captain," said the Wig-maker, stepping 
 back. 
 
 Wallace looked about him; the rooms were 
 tiny, but spotless. Out across the roofs was a 
 group of chimney-pots, and beyond a glimpse 
 of masts and moving water. "How much are 
 these*?" he asked. 
 
 "Fifteen shillings," said the Wig-maker. He 
 was looking into immeasurable distance. 
 
 "Cheaper than some of them," commented 
 Wallace. 
 
 "He wants to go," said the Wig-maker. "He 
 gave up the sailing to practice law; but he doesn't 
 like law he's going on a voyage. To-morrow
 
 ioo THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 noon, he sails. They'll be ready to let at one 
 o'clock." It was a long speech for the Wig- 
 maker almost committal. 
 
 Wallace looked through them again. "I 
 want to bring some one this afternoon to see 
 them," he said. "Can you show them this after- 
 noon*?" 
 
 "Any time between four and five," said the 
 Wig-maker. "She told me they will be out 
 then." 
 
 "She T 
 
 "His daughter the Captain's daughter." 
 
 "Ah that has a pleasant sound the Cap- 
 tain's daughter I think we shall take 
 them " 
 
 The Wig-maker looked at him without com- 
 ment. 
 
 "Can you give me the address of the Cap- 
 tain's daughter?" 
 
 "They let the rooms through me," explained 
 the Wig-maker. 
 
 "I know I understand it quite. But I 
 should like to see her the daughter of the Cap-
 
 WALLACE GOES HOUSE-HUNTING 101 
 
 tain." He took out a note-book, and held his 
 pencil ready. 
 
 "She lives in Chelsea," sighed the Wig-maker 
 and Wallace's pencil took down the street and 
 number, and he shut the book and slipped it into 
 his pocket. 
 
 "Thank you," he said. "We shall see the 
 Captain's daughter at once."
 
 XIV 
 
 IN THE TEMPLE 
 
 "!N the Temple?" said Mother, wrinkling 
 her forehead a little. "Is it a church, Wal- 
 lace?' 
 
 "Not a church exactly " said Wallace. 
 "There's a church near by," he added. He was 
 not quite clear in his mind whether Mother 
 wanted to live in a church it seemed safer to 
 keep on neutral ground. "It's an old church, 
 you know thirteenth century !" 
 
 "Is it where you go*?" 
 
 "Where I T 
 
 "The church where you go to 1 ?" said Mother. 
 
 "Oh! I I shall probably go there, if you 
 take the rooms." 
 
 "That'll be nice! with me and Father." 
 
 "Yes that's what I thought." 
 
 "He's found a place for us, Father!" She 
 turned to Anthony who had come in and was 
 
 IO2
 
 IN THE TEMPLE 103 
 
 smiling down at them. "He's going to take us 
 to see it, and we can move right in if we want 
 to to-morrow. It's a kind of church " She 
 beamed on them both. 
 
 Anthony looked across at Wallace. 
 
 "It's in the Temple," explained Wallace 
 "Plowden Buildings, you know. It's rather 
 high up four flights; but 'Mother' says she 
 doesn't mind that." 
 
 "It costs three dollars and seventy-five cents 
 a week," said Mother, "and it's furnished with 
 everything we need mostly." 
 
 "It's quite furnished, I should say," said Wal- 
 lace. "Put on your bonnet and come along and 
 see it." 
 
 He had entered into the spirit of things. . . . 
 Ten days ago if one of the chorus ladies had 
 told him that he would presently be escorting 
 a round old lady about London, looking up 
 rooms, interviewing Wig-makers and Captain's 
 daughters and looking into coal cellars, he 
 would have laughed with her and taken the 
 bet. . But he had not so much fun in
 
 104 TH E TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 years. Business was stale any one could play 
 it with his eyes blindfold. Chorus girls had 
 their limits. . . . But a lively old lady, to 
 tuck under your arm and pilot about London 
 made life worth living. . . . He guided her 
 across the worst places, for the sheer joy of feel- 
 ing the fierce little clutch on his arm and the 
 gasp of thanksgiving at the end. 
 
 "I don't see what I should do without you, 
 Wally! Seems as if there was more people, 
 every time I go out." 
 
 "You'll get used to it," said Wallace. 
 
 But, privately, in his heart, he hoped she 
 would never get used to it. She recalled to him 
 so vividly his own first days in London He 
 had not presented to London the same be- 
 wildered, dishevelled front of courage that 
 Mother wore; but inside, he knew, he had expe- 
 rienced most of the feelings that she displayed 
 so recklessly. ... It all took him back to the 
 first day. He was hardly more than a boy 
 . . . but he had done the work of a man, of 
 two men ten men they had got their money's
 
 IN THE TEMPLE 105 
 
 worth out of him and they had never paid him 
 a cent more than they had to well, he was tak- 
 ing it easy now a week in the country when he 
 chose his own car plenty of friends. . . . 
 There were not many men who would not be 
 glad to be in Wallace Tilton's shoes to-day. It 
 would have surprised Wallace very much if he 
 could have known that he stood in immediate 
 danger of losing those comfortable, well-brushed 
 shoes that, almost any day, he might find him- 
 self tasting the joys of barefoot life in figurative 
 earnest. 
 
 "I don't feel as if we ought to take so much 
 of your time, Wally," said Mother. She was 
 swimming valiantly up the Strand, her head 
 just above water. 
 
 "My time doesn't matter," laughed Wallace 
 "plenty more where it came from. Here we 
 are!" He had turned into the low-arched 
 gateway, and Mother, with a little gasp of re- 
 lief, righted herself and felt cautiously of her 
 bonnet. . . . 
 
 Wallace nodded to Anthony. "You and 
 
 r
 
 106 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 Mother come on slowly. I'll run ahead for the 
 key." 
 
 They watched him disappear down a long 
 passage, through a narrow door at the end out 
 of sight; they walked slowly on, looking ahead 
 to the centre of a court where a fountain 
 splashed in the sun and a dove on the edge of 
 the basin preened itself and shimmered; spar- 
 rows dropped down to drink, ferns formed a 
 green edge along the water and tree-shadows 
 flecked the stone pavement. It was like a picture 
 in an old book. . . . Across the court rose a 
 strange, worn building with stained-glass win- 
 dows and quaint carving, and beyond it a flight 
 of steps descended to a little court-yard where 
 great halls, with pinnacles and towers, lifted 
 themselves; and through rows of iron railings 
 and across the wide expanse of grass, glimpses 
 of tram-cars and taxi-cabs flitted past. . . . 
 But no sound came to the little fountain court 
 the dove cooed and lifted its wing flying a little 
 away; it waddled business-like and brisk, on the 
 paved court, pecking at nothing.
 
 IN THE TEMPLE 107 
 
 Mother eyed it, happily. "It does seem good 
 to see a bird doesn't it?" 
 
 "There he is!" said Anthony. 
 
 Wallace was jingling keys at them from an 
 archway and they moved across. "It's down 
 here," he said. He descended a flight of steps 
 and Mother looked back, a little wistfully, to the 
 fountain. "I hoped it might be along here some- 
 where," she said softly. 
 
 "It's right near by," said Wallace. "You 
 can come any time and hear the birds sing!" 
 
 Mother smiled back and followed him down 
 the narrow edge of pavement to the entrance of 
 the high, dark building. "Seventy-three steps," 
 he said. "I counted them Hold your 
 breath!" 
 
 But Mother mounted on the wings of hope. 
 To have a little place of her own a real home 
 in the great city's roaring it seemed very near 
 only seventy-three steps! 
 
 Wallace inserted the key. "It's small, you 
 know * He swung back the door and dis- 
 closed behind it another door.
 
 io8 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 Mother looked at it blankly. "We must have 
 got the wrong key, Wallace," she said helplessly. 
 
 "It's all right," said Wallace. He held up 
 another key, and put it in the lock. "They al- 
 ways have two doors in the Temple." He 
 threw open the inner door and drew back. 
 
 Mother stepped over the threshold. "It 
 doesn't seem much like a Temple, does it? It's 
 just a little home!" She was standing motion- 
 less in the passage-way, looking into a room be- 
 yond; through the west windows the sun poured 
 in, and in one of them was something. 
 Mother peered forward "It's a bird-cage, An- 
 thony!" she said swiftly. "Wallace, it's a 
 bird!" In another minute, she had crossed the 
 room and was looking up at the tiny, yellow ball, 
 with adoring eyes chirping, laughing the tears 
 brimming somewhere in the round eyes. "Will 
 they let me have it, Wallace a bird !" she 
 asked. 
 
 "It's yours, Mother bought and paid for to- 
 day," said Wallace, smiling. 
 
 A glance passed between him and Anthony,
 
 IN THE TEMPLE 109 
 
 and they stood waiting. Mother had crossed 
 the room, straight to the bird. She had not 
 glanced at the grate with the little fire burning 
 in it and, in front of it, the tiny tea-table with 
 white cloth and cups for three, and the tea-kettle 
 humming on the hob. She turned slowly about 
 and saw it and caught her breath. "Doesn't 
 it look like home Father !" The next 
 minute she was sobbing a little, and wiping her 
 eyes, and taking off her bonnet "You mean 
 
 it's for us now to sit right down to! 
 
 Mercy no, I can't eat in my bonnet, Wallace!" 
 She bustled to the fire. She poked it, and 
 looked in the tea-kettle and laughed; she meas- 
 ured the tea, with a hand that trembled 
 "Seems as if I was reading it in a book!" she 
 said softly. "I didn't know anything could 
 happen like this in London!" 
 
 "Just the place where it's bound to happen," 
 said Wallace. "I take cream with mine 
 cream and plenty of sugar Thank you." He 
 took the cup and sipped it slowly. "The Cap- 
 tain's daughter is a fine judge of tea," he said.
 
 no THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 And while Mother drank her tea, and nibbled 
 a little at cakes, he gave them the history of his 
 house-hunting, and made out for Mother ad- 
 dresses and directions, and drew a plan of streets 
 and shops the best places to buy tea and coals 
 and butter and eggs all carefully gathered from 
 the Captain's daughter, and vouched for by prac- 
 tical, English common-sense. 
 
 "You can't go wrong," he said as he jotted 
 them down. "She has tried them all; and she's 
 the real thing British made. You'll find it 
 as easy as shopping in Bolton." 
 
 "The man comes to the door there," said 
 Mother, "and I tell him what I want. But I 
 shan't mind going out I've got a good big net- 
 bag to put things in." 
 
 Wallace knew the kind of bag. He had seen 
 them in 'buses held carefully together by small 
 women whose toes did not touch the bounding 
 floor bulging in every direction and holding an 
 incredible quantity of stuff. He had looked on 
 them with amused tolerance; but now suddenly, 
 he saw a picture of Wallace Tilton carrying a
 
 IN THE TEMPLE ill 
 
 very large, well-stuffed bag and escorting Mother 
 through the busiest streets. 
 
 "They will deliver goods if you go early," he 
 said. 
 
 "Oh, I shall go early," responded Mother. 
 "But I shan't need anything for a day or two. 
 There's quite a lot of things on hand, I see in 
 the cupboard there. . . . Well, I must wash 
 the dishes, and we'll be getting back." She 
 rose with a little sigh, and pinned a towel about 
 her person. 
 
 They watched her as she whisked into the 
 room and out, gathering up plates and cups 
 and pouring hot water into a little pan that 
 she brought from the kitchen beyond. 
 "There's everything there," she said, "and most 
 of them hung on nails. I never saw so many 
 nails!" 
 
 "Ship-shape," said Anthony. 
 
 "That's it I've said 'ship-shape' all my life 
 and, I declare, I never thought what it meant! 
 The whole place is just the same." She looked 
 about her, at the small, shining room.
 
 112 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 "You can play you're going on a voyage," 
 said Wallace. 
 
 "I'd rather stay here," said Mother hastily. 
 "I'd like to settle right down this minute and 
 not stir another step!" 
 
 "Why not do it, Mother*?" said Anthony. 
 "We'll get the things. Wallace says it's all 
 ready for us here " 
 
 Mother glanced at him doubtfully. "My 
 best bonnet's in the third drawer," she said. 
 " I declare I hate to let you but that street 
 we came through does roar so!" 
 
 "We'll bring everything," said Wallace. 
 "You stay where you are and be comfortable." 
 
 Mother watched them go with half-doubtful 
 eyes. "You look in all the bureau drawers, An- 
 thony and you've got to pay fees to some of 
 'em. The Book says 'from two to five shillings 
 to the waiter and others in proportion.' 
 You'd better ask Wallace how much 'in propor- 
 tion' is " 
 
 "I'll see to that," said Wallace. "Don't you
 
 IN THE TEMPLE 113 
 
 worry, Mother. You just go right on making a 
 home." 
 
 So they went out and left her, and Mother 
 crossed over to the bird and chirped to him a 
 little and looked at the chairs and patted them 
 and suddenly two large tears rolled down her 
 cheeks. She wiped them quickly away, and two 
 more followed and two more and then a 
 whole flood, bursting the bounds and shaking 
 her all through. She sank into a chair by the 
 fire, wiping them hastily away and looking 
 through them at the shining room. . . . There 
 was only the humming of the kettle on the hob 
 and Mother's little sobs breaking in and now 
 and then a soft, quiet chirp from the yellow bird 
 in his cage in the window.
 
 XV 
 
 ANTHONY AND BEGGARS 
 
 ONCE Mother was settled in her nest, a new life 
 began for Anthony. The great town drew him 
 asleep or awake, he felt it whispering subtly; 
 and often while Mother was sleeping or while 
 she was busy with her dishes and bread-raising, 
 he stole out to meet it. 
 
 The policemen on the various beats grew to 
 know the thin, gentle figure, slipping through 
 the crowd a figure that seemed to be always 
 seeking something that it did not find. 
 
 Now and then Anthony stopped to speak to 
 a begging match-vender or to some fiddler at 
 the curb-stone. For the most part they looked 
 at him with dull, uncomprehending eyes there 
 were those, perhaps, who might have understood 
 him searching seeking always seeking. But 
 they might not speak to him, and he passed them, 
 
 unheeding. The power of the city was on him; 
 
 114
 
 ANTHONY AND BEGGARS 115 
 
 the same great force that sent Mother, palpitat- 
 ing to her tree-top, drew him out, drove him 
 forth. He was not an American visiting Lon- 
 don he was a part of it part of its hurry and 
 life. Nowhere in the world, perhaps, could the 
 shoemaker have come so close to himself as in 
 the great town that drove its roots into the Past. 
 For years he had sat, tapping away at the prob- 
 lems and the dreams that roamed the London 
 streets. He was not afraid to look on at life, 
 flooding through; he had no hasty impulse to 
 cover it up out of sight with its wickedness and 
 filth . . . there might be something who could 
 tell*? something that might be made as good 
 as new. . . . 
 
 By a kind of instinct he seemed to penetrate 
 the heavy masks as he penetrated the nights of 
 fog along the streets. 
 
 "They look to me, Anthony, as if they were 
 all going to some great funeral somewhere," 
 Mother pronounced when she had become a little 
 accustomed to the streets and ventured forth in 
 friendly daylight under Wallace's wing. "I de-
 
 ii6 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 clare, I never saw so many folks that looked as 
 if they was too miserable to live!" 
 
 "They're not so unhappy," said Anthony. "I 
 seem to know how they feel, Mother they've 
 got a bad pair of shoes to do and they don't 
 know just how they'll do 'em ... no soles 
 hardly, and heels run down, and uppers pretty 
 bad, and gaping but they don't give up. 
 That's what I like about 'em, Mother they 
 don't give up! I can feel it how they're 
 doing thinking turning 'em in their mind 
 and when I look up and see 'em that way in a 
 'bus all kind o' puzzled and heavy, daft-like 
 I say to myself, 'They're a-thinking they'll get 
 it yet!' . . . I've set that way myself a good 
 many times with an old, worn-out pair in my 
 hands, not know which way to turn hardly 
 and then all of a sudden I'd see! . . . You 
 have to tackle your old shoes in an old country 
 and make 'em come right. . . . Over home 
 we don't mend we throw away and start new 
 every time. But there's something about an old 
 pair a good hand-made pair, to start with
 
 ANTHONY AND BEGGARS 117 
 
 that you don't get with us. ... Someway, on 
 the streets, I feel as if I knew how they feel 
 they don't move very quick; but there's some- 
 thing down underneath you can count on and 
 I feel it tugging at me Some days it's all I can 
 do to keep from reaching out my hands to 'em 
 and saying, 'Let me take a hold!' I feel as if 
 they'd understand and move along to make a 
 place for me. There's something big about 'em, 
 Mother " 
 
 But Mother only sniffed a little. When An- 
 thony got to running on, talking about people 
 talking foolishness about people, and mixing 
 them up with shoes, that way, she took refuge 
 in silence. But in her heart, she was a little 
 troubled about Anthony. . . . He had nothing 
 to take up his mind as she had. The scrub- 
 bing and scouring of the little chambers filled 
 her with content, and the canary sang in the 
 window. 
 
 But Anthony seemed unconscious of anything 
 wrong. He went out each morning and re- 
 turned at noon or night with long and interesting
 
 n8 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 tales. It was only when he talked queerly about 
 people that Mother had a little sudden fear 
 that the change might be bad for Anthony. But 
 when she looked at his quiet face she forgot her 
 fears. The wrinkles seemed disappearing 
 only the one straight one remained between the 
 eyes, rising to meet the lock of hair that rose 
 straight from his forehead it seemed to her it 
 had grown white since they came to London 
 the little lock that was not quite a curl. . . . 
 
 Gradually the American with the little white 
 lock of hair became known to others besides the 
 police; professional beggars marked him, but 
 the police marked the beggars, and they returned 
 to their stare of match-boxes and shoestrings. 
 
 Anthony moved among them, his eyes some- 
 times lifted to their faces, but oftener on the 
 dragging, shuffling feet. ... It seemed to him 
 that never since light fell on the earth had shoes 
 so disreputable been seen affairs of windy 
 leather and string, the mere assumption of shoes ; 
 shoes that bulged and gave way, sloppy and torn
 
 ANTHONY AND BEGGARS 119 
 
 and cut, shuffling and slinking heels run down 
 and toes turning up. ... Everywhere such 
 shoes at the foot of heroic statues, standing 
 straight and high, made of iron or bronze or 
 marble never to be touched. . . . Every- 
 where the hideous, sodden poverty sitting at 
 the foot of the heroic statues toppled this way 
 and that in wretched ulsters and shawls, the 
 misery of London not rebelling, not begging, 
 not even resting but merely sitting out exist- 
 ence, waiting for the end, hopeless that there 
 would be any end eyes bleared and gouged, 
 ears torn, noses eaten level, feet swollen in the 
 shapeless shoes sodden with drink, sodden 
 with, God knows what injustice and misman- 
 agement. . . . Anthony took them all into his 
 heart that would have mended them if it 
 could. 
 
 Sometimes his hand exchanged a copper, 
 sometimes he stopped for a bit of talk by one of 
 the shapeless, shrugging masses at the foot of its 
 statue; and, after a little, he began to know 
 them the hopeless, unworthy, god-forsaken
 
 120 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 ones, and those who sometimes felt a breath of 
 hope with the spring but curiously, it was the 
 hopeless bundles that touched him most for- 
 saken of God and men . . . the ones that leered 
 dull eyes at him under England's great men 
 evil, dirty, through and through. . . . Where 
 was God keeping himself? 
 
 An old beggar moved a red eye on him. . . . 
 "I'm sixty, come next Michaelmas," he said. 
 
 "Just my age," said Anthony. He had seated 
 himself on the edge of the statue and crossed his 
 legs, swinging one slim foot a little slowly back 
 and forth. 
 
 The beggar's eye grudged its easy swing . . . 
 and gaped at it. 
 
 "It's hard, getting old," said Anthony; "things 
 don't seem the same when you're old " 
 
 Half-articulate words answered him they 
 mumbled themselves at De war's whisky, just 
 faintly visible in the blur across the river 
 Thames. 
 
 "Everything gets old together," said An- 
 thony, "clothes and shoes." His eye fell to
 
 ANTHONY AND BEGGARS 121 
 
 the shapeless masses at the end of the legs, that 
 thrust themselves out as feet. 
 
 The beggar shuffled them a little and whined 
 beneath his breath his eye on an officer pacing 
 the walk on the other side of the embankment. 
 
 Anthony bent over and looked at the shoes 
 attentively they had no strings, and white rags 
 were bound about things inside, for stockings. 
 "They're not so bad " said Anthony, half to 
 himself, "they might be mended. I think if 
 you would come with me " 
 
 He got up and the beggar got up with him, 
 shuffling his feet, exaggerating their clumsi- 
 ness, and hobbling carefully. 
 
 The officer across the way strolled over, with 
 even, implacable tread. His careless hand 
 swung out and touched the beggar's shoulder 
 "None of your games, Jack!" 
 
 The red eye turned on him virtuously. "It's 
 his doin's he arxed me," said the beggar. His 
 eyes grew resentful. "I didn't do nothink " 
 
 The officer's hand dropped from his shoulder 
 "See that you don't do nothing that's all."
 
 122 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 His hand motioned to Anthony and they 
 moved away a few steps. 
 
 "He's a thorough bad one," said the officer, 
 "bad through and through." 
 
 "That's what I thought," said Anthony. 
 "That's why I wanted to do something. . . . 
 It's not against the law to do something, is it 1 ?" 
 The question was respectful but there was a 
 little glint somewhere behind it that crossed to 
 the policeman and laughed between them. 
 
 The policeman motioned toward the beggar 
 "You keep your eye on him, that's all. I'll take 
 your name and address, please." 
 
 The beggar's lowering eye watched the writ- 
 ing and followed the broad figure as it swung 
 away into its even tread "You arxed me to 
 go!" he grumbled. "I didn't do nothink." 
 
 "This is the way," said Anthony, and they 
 turned in at the Temple Gate. The porter 
 looked out of his box with censorious eye, and 
 half-way up the Temple Lane, an officer ac- 
 costed them and let them go with a warning 
 look at the beggar's dull and glowering eye.
 
 ANTHONY AND BEGGARS 123 
 
 But in spite of officers and warnings, the man 
 seemed to walk a little more erect his feet 
 shuffled less on the stones. It was only when 
 they had climbed to the top of the Plowden 
 Buildings and his eye encountered Mother's, 
 that he collapsed. 
 
 She looked at Anthony meaningly. 
 
 "I want my mending-kit, Mother," said An- 
 thony. 
 
 Anthony had brought his mending-kit. She 
 had found it packed in one of the boxes awls 
 and thread and wax and pegs, everything that 
 could be needed for a pair of worn shoes or 
 even for the making of new ones. She had 
 pushed it far back under the Captain's bed, and 
 placed the box containing her best bonnet care- 
 fully in front of it. She had hoped with that 
 box in front of it it was the end of it. ... 
 Once or twice she had thought of reminding him 
 of it, suggesting that he make her a new pair of 
 shoes; but she had three pair already, good ones 
 and Anthony did not seem very unhappy or 
 restless ; it was only when he talked queerly about
 
 124 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 people that she had had the little sudden fear 
 that the change might have been bad for him, 
 and had thought of the box pushed far back 
 under the bed. . . . She had imagined many 
 things, but never had she imagined anything like 
 the red-eyed thing in front of her. 
 
 She hesitated a minute. She glanced at him 
 again, and brought a chair a wooden one 
 and placed it in the middle of the passage-way; 
 she disappeared into the bedroom. 
 
 When she re-appeared she bore the square 
 wooden box. Anthony's eyes lighted as he 
 reached out his hands for it. He opened it and 
 fell to looking it over, humming a little to him- 
 self. . . . 
 
 The beggar watched him with cautious glance. 
 
 C7C-' C-* 
 
 His red, leery, indifferent eye followed the 
 mending of his shoes. 
 
 Deep in his dark, sodden soul was imbedded 
 the conviction that he should pay for mending 
 his shoes not in money, perhaps; there was not 
 a copper in his torn, flapping pockets to give up 
 but pay of some sort he would have to give;
 
 ANTHONY AND BEGGARS 125 
 
 his freedom or his likings would be impinged on. 
 He sat waiting, a-tremble in his old nerves, 
 watching Anthony's fingers round the disrepu- 
 table shapes into shoes. 
 
 When they were done, and Anthony handed 
 them to him wilh a little gesture and smile, he 
 thrust his shapeless feet once more into them 
 and stood up, waiting braced for the worst 
 
 "Do they feel comfortable*?" asked Anthony. 
 
 "They're all right " half-surlily he moved 
 toward the door. 
 
 Anthony's eyes were fixed on the shoes, smil- 
 ing gently. The man's glance saw the look and 
 stopped the worn shoes paused 
 
 "Thank ye for doin' 'em," he mumbled. 
 
 "I liked to do it for you," said Anthony, look- 
 ing at him. 
 
 "I can't pay yer nothink " It was half a 
 whine. 
 
 Anthony's eyes rested on his face "I did not 
 mend them for pay," he said. 
 
 The beggar braced himself Now it was up 
 
 to him. But there was only silence in the room.
 
 126 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 "Ye ain't goin' to pray with me nor nothin'." 
 It was full of disbelief and a little bleary 
 hope 
 
 Anthony shook his head. "I don't hardly 
 know how to pray myself," he said gently. 
 
 "God bless yer sor!" The beggar touched 
 a dirty forelock, and the mended shoes shuffled 
 out, across the hallway, down the long stairs, 
 clumpety-flap, clumpety-flap, clumpety-clum- 
 pety-flap-flap-flap ! 
 
 Mother brought a basin of warm water and 
 soap and carefully washed the chair where the 
 beggar had sat and wiped up the floor silently 
 and thoughtfully and almost gently.
 
 XVI 
 
 WALLACE HAS HIS APPLE-PIE 
 
 AN epidemic of beggars began to haunt the 
 Temple; they could not slip past the porter at 
 the iron gate of the lodge, but they came by way 
 of Fleet Street, or through Mitre Court, or glid- 
 ing in at the Library gate, slinking past respect- 
 able barristers and clerks and making their way, 
 burrow-like, along tunnels and narrow slits, un- 
 der archways and through alleys, toward the 
 stairs that led to the chambers of the American 
 who was a fool. Sometimes they accompanied 
 Anthony himself, walking, almost erect, beside 
 him past the porter and the officers and up the 
 Temple Lane and the seventy-three stairs. . . . 
 "He'll make ye a pair for nothink and let ye 
 sit in a chair and see him doin' of it!" 
 
 Mother always washed the chair carefully; 
 she provided a bottle of powerful disinfectant, 
 "used by the Royal family," and after each in- 
 
 127
 
 128 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 vasion sprinkled the walls of the Temple. . . . 
 But it was not Anthony who laid in a stock of 
 hose, assorted sizes, and doled them out to the 
 nondescript bundles that sat watching Anthony's 
 little hammer go tap-tapping around the edges 
 of the soles, and the needle piercing its waxed 
 stitches through the uppers. ... It was not 
 Anthony who handed out New England cookies 
 in little parcels, and slices of bread and butter. 
 But it was not only beggars who sat in the 
 wooden chair, with their crafty, shifty glances 
 on Mother's housekeeping, that were privileged 
 to enjoy her New England cooking. Wallace 
 Tilton, arriving breathless at the top of the sev- 
 enty-three steps, was stayed with goodies from 
 the cupboard. . . . No one can be certain that 
 Wallace was not lured back, day after day, by 
 careless little hints dropped by Mother, as they 
 talked, of what was going to be baked to-mor- 
 row in the gas-range in the small kitchen. Cer- 
 tainly Wallace went about all one morning, con- 
 versing of steel and a new refining process 
 millions in it with the taste of a "new apple-
 
 WALLACE HAS HIS APPLE-PIE 129 
 
 pie" haunting his palate not an apple-tart, 
 such as he had ordered sadly and hopefully for 
 years in English hotels, but a real apple-pie 
 made of ambrosia and love, with the merest 
 flavour of earthly apples, and a crust of dreams. 
 While he ate it he was kicking bare feet 
 against the table-leg, his tousled hair sticking 
 out of the torn hat, his one suspender hitched 
 tight across the pink calico shirt happy Wally 
 Tilton, laying his carefully-brushed silk hat on 
 a book case and taking off his immaculate grey 
 gloves to receive from Mother's hand his piece 
 of glorified pie . . . and with each new mouth- 
 ful, Wally Tilton came back care free, loyal, 
 eager, forward-looking as if boyhood and 
 apple-pie lay so close together that you might 
 not taste the one without calling up the other. 
 There is no doubt that better women than 
 Mother might have laboured with Wallace Til- 
 ton's soul and with less happy results. She 
 was such a human, little old body, trotting 
 into her kitchen and out always with the re- 
 cuperative pie or cookie or doughnut in her hand
 
 130 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 scolding about Anthony and scolding about 
 London and shop-keepers who it seemed did 
 not hesitate to cheat her, only she was getting 
 too sharp for them! Scolding Wallace himself, 
 if things went too ill with her, holding him re- 
 sponsible for all London and its sins. 
 
 Let him come in, some dark, sooty morning, 
 choking with gases and yellow-black smut, his 
 nostrils filled with it, his throat raw, his lungs 
 choking, eyes smarting. . . . But let him not 
 therefore hope for comfort from Mother. The 
 coal-strike was on, and Mother laid a tiny 
 piece of coal sparingly on the grate and stood 
 up, brushing imaginary soot from her fingers. 
 "There's no telling when we shall get any more," 
 she said. "They ought to be ashamed of them- 
 selves, making coal cost forty shillings a ton 
 ten dollars, Wally!" She looked at him over 
 reproachful glasses. 
 
 "I know " he looked toward the cupboard 
 door, but Mother had no eyes for cupboards 
 she was wiping infinitesimal specks of black off 
 the spotless room.
 
 WALLACE HAS HIS APPLE-PIE 131 
 
 "It's a wicked price!" she said. 
 
 "It's a hard life " ventured Wallace, "work- 
 ing like that, six days a week, out of the sun- 
 shine in the dark and dirt " 
 
 "Sunshine !" sniffed Mother. "Where is 
 your sunshine to get out of and go down in a 
 mine from? Have you seen the sun for sixty 
 days, Wallace Tilton*?" She might have been 
 the Statue of Liberty towering above him. 
 
 "No" admitted Wallace. 
 
 "Nor I !" said Mother. ... "I don't see as 
 they're so much to be pitied down in clean, 
 warm mines, nice and cosy, like that no wind 
 and no fog. I don't doubt they have quite nice 
 times, visiting together " 
 
 "Without any air " objected Wallace. 
 
 "They must have air, Wallace !" She 
 paused in consternation. "They couldn't 
 breathe without air!" 
 
 "Just what's pumped down to them," said 
 Wallace "How would you like to have your 
 air pumped down all that you had*?" 
 
 Mother glanced at her window up through
 
 1 3 2 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 the layers of soot and blackness that overhung 
 London. "I should like it," she declared; "I 
 should like it, first-rate, Wally, to have good, 
 clean sunshiny air pumped down to me from 
 up above right here where we are!" She waved 
 a protesting hand. "I suppose the sun is shin- 
 ing somewhere up there, isn't it*?" 
 
 Wallace smiled a little. "There's a theory 
 it is " 
 
 "I should like some of it!" said Mother a 
 great wave of homesickness seemed sweeping 
 across her. . . . She went to the window and 
 looked up. A sudden flight of imagination 
 broke forth. "I don't know why they don't run 
 ventilating shafts right up to where it's clean 
 and pipe it down " 
 
 "So much a foot *?" laughed Wallace. 
 
 "I wouldn't mind paying a little," said 
 Mother. She came away from her window. 
 
 "You'd have to pay a lot " said Wallace. 
 "It would be cheaper for you to go and live in 
 a mine at once." 
 
 "I shouldn't mind it so much as you think,
 
 WALLACE HAS HIS APPLE-PIE 133 
 
 Wallace, after London!" said Mother. "A 
 mine seems to me kind of a comfortable place 
 all made of good, clean coal so no garbage or 
 torn paper or anything, and nothing to get dirty 
 no ashes. If they had white sheets down 
 there, and bedspreads and blankets and white 
 paint, and if the coal kept getting up and float- 
 ing around the way it does here, little specks 
 
 of it, into all the cracks and everything !" 
 
 Mother paused, breathless. 
 
 Wallace laughed. "Poor London!" 
 Mother's face softened a little. "I know you 
 like it, Wally; and maybe / shall if I stay here 
 ten years, the way you have " She was going 
 toward the cupboard but she turned back and 
 looked at him, a little awe and commiserating 
 pity in her face. "Ten years !" she said. 
 
 She opened the cupboard door to see what 
 she had left, and took out a large, noble piece 
 of apple-pie and gave it to him; her round af- 
 fectionate face was full of tolerance and pity.
 
 XVII 
 
 THE BOOK SHOP IN SAINT SPARROW'S COURT 
 
 ANTHONY stood in front of the bookstall in 
 Saint Sparrow's Court, fingering the books a lit- 
 tle, taking them up with thin, slim touch and 
 dipping in a page here and there and slip- 
 ping them back in place. A young clerk, almost 
 a boy, came out with an armful of books, his 
 chin holding the top one steady. He arranged 
 the books on the stall, one eye glancing at the 
 stranger, and disappeared inside. From the end 
 of the court little noises crept in the traffic of 
 Charing Cross Road slamming by. 
 
 It was quiet in Saint Sparrow's Court only 
 a few footsteps moving behind him breathlessly, 
 breaking in upon him with the sense of other 
 people near. . . . Anthony was not quite used 
 to it, even yet to being among his thousands 
 and feel the tide pulsing always through, and 
 the great ocean out there beyond with its low 
 
 134
 
 THE BOOK SHOP 135 
 
 murmur of life. The books were only an ex- 
 cuse, a pretext to stand there a few minutes 
 longer and feel the tide flow through; and wher- 
 ever he took his stand he seemed in the heart of 
 London. There must be limits to London but 
 he had never found its limits. . . . Probably 
 they lay off there somewhere east or west or 
 north or south but he had not come to them. 
 
 The clerk came out with another armful of 
 books, and dusted them a little and put them in 
 place. He was a most efficient young clerk 
 his hair shone, his boots shone, his eyes shone 
 and his face. Anthony picked up a book and 
 opened it. "You can tell me how much this 
 is perhaps 1 ?" It was his best opening and the 
 clerk's eye rested on it, shiningly. He held out 
 his hand. "I'll find out," he said, and disap- 
 peared inside and reappeared in a breath "He 
 says it's sixpence." He polished the volume a 
 little and waited he was a very serious young 
 clerk. Anthony felt in his pockets slowly, his 
 fingers skilfully evading a sixpence and bring- 
 ing out something a half-crown.
 
 136 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 "Sixpence from two-and-six," chanted the 
 clerk and disappeared again. Anthony looked 
 at the door and followed him in. It was darker 
 inside a kind of gentle mellow light, falling on 
 the books brown books and green books and 
 red books dusty red books and magazines 
 and folios and prints. . . . Through the door- 
 way into a back room, Anthony could see his 
 clerk getting change from a man at a desk. It 
 was a happy little place, and Anthony took his 
 change and browsed on. The serious clerk dis- 
 appeared again down a hole in the wall, look- 
 ing for more books to dust, and the room was 
 very quiet. Through the doorway Anthony 
 could see the man at the desk, writing he 
 folded a letter and sealed it and stamped it 
 and looked up. He fussed a little at things on 
 the desk and got up slowly and came out. 
 
 "Good-morning," he said. He seemed about 
 to wander away. But Anthony's look held him 
 and he paused. 
 
 "I was looking at your books," said Anthony. 
 
 "That's right \ook away. Looking won't
 
 THE BOOK SHOP 137 
 
 wear on 'em much !" He took down a book and 
 looked in it and turned leaves 
 
 "You're from America," he said. He appar- 
 ently read it from the book. 
 
 Anthony looked up. "That's easy to tell 
 isn't it 4 ?" 
 
 The other man laughed out a big genial 
 laugh, with booming hints in it but mellowed 
 like the books. ... It came with a sudden ef- 
 fect of surprise in the little brown room. 
 "You've got the look," he said. "You're thin 
 it's what you call the Southern type, isn't it*? 
 Here " He caught down a book from its shelf 
 and opened it, turning leaves rapidly. "That's 
 the one I mean !" He pointed to a print in "Old 
 Creole Days" "you've got the same look. . . ." 
 He studied the picture and the man impartially. 
 . . . "But there's a print that's more like you 
 somewhere in here " He led the way into 
 the little back room and Anthony followed him. 
 
 "It's here somewhere !" said the man! 
 He rummaged through the piles of prints, turning 
 them rapidly, humming a little to himself.
 
 138 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 "Sit down won't you yes, sit down I'll 
 find it. ... Things run away they do run 
 away. Ah h ! Here we are !" He took it 
 out and held it at arm's length and set it on a 
 disorderly shelf among the pile of books and 
 looked at it and laughed out. "Yes, that's the 
 gentleman!" He looked at Anthony critically 
 "Only you wear two glasses, I see and he 
 got along with one." 
 
 Anthony sitting by the desk, looked at the 
 picture with pleased interest. It was like him 
 yes a little there was the lock of hair that dis- 
 tressed Mother and the thin face with its mon- 
 ocle and deep-set eyes and sharp-cut lines half- 
 smiling, half -sardonic a kind of tragic face. 
 ... "I don't believe I'm quite like that " 
 said Anthony. 
 
 "No " The man sat down, studying it. 
 "It was the type I was thinking of ... 
 there's a look about you both as if you under- 
 stood more than you let on perhaps " He 
 laughed again, half nervously, and looked at 
 the picture, whistling softly through his teeth.
 
 THE BOOK SHOP 139 
 
 "He had a hard time," he said, nodding toward 
 it. 
 
 "Inside, or out 4 ?" asked Anthony. 
 
 The man shot a quick glance at him "Both," 
 he replied tersely. "He couldn't live with him- 
 self his friends couldn't either ... a hard 
 time " 
 
 The clerk came through the hole out of the 
 wall with books. 
 
 The man felt in his pockets "Here, Bob, 
 bring us in tea " He handed out a coin. 
 
 Bob put down his books and took the coin 
 and disappeared perhaps to wash his face and 
 shine his shoes and his eyes before going out. 
 
 Some one came into the outer shop and the 
 bookseller went out. Then two young men came 
 in from the street and he greeted them, laughing. 
 Anthony could hear his voice with the lit- 
 tle rolling laugh in it "Go right in I'll be 
 
 there yes I'll be there go right along 
 in !" 
 
 So they came in, and stood in the doorway, 
 and half-nodded, stiffly, at Anthony, and pre-
 
 I 4 o THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 tended not to see him, or to forget him, and 
 looked at books and talked in low tones. 
 
 Then a little breeze swept through the door 
 and the man came blowing in, sweeping all out- 
 doors in with him out of his laugh and his 
 smile and his rolling cheer. "Well well 
 how are you how are you !" He shook 
 hands with the young men all over again and 
 presented them to Anthony "He's somebody 
 you'll like to know," he said to them; and to An- 
 thony, "These are two young men they like to 
 paint think they can paint a little yes that's 
 it Mr. Cameron and Mr. Waitley!" 
 
 They shook hands with Anthony gravely. 
 
 "My name is Wickham," said Anthony. 
 
 "From America," said the bookseller "I 
 was just showing him the Whistler. . . . Here, 
 Bob " The boy stood in the doorway with 
 the tray. "Put it here," said the man. He 
 pushed the print and books along on the shelf 
 and made room for the tray. "About two more 
 cups we need, Bob. You've got 'em down be- 
 low?'
 
 THE BOOK SHOP 141 
 
 Bob went through the hole down below and 
 produced the cups, and cleared a place on the 
 desk sweeping things into drawers and pigeon- 
 holes with a little shining swoop that left it 
 clear. 
 
 "That's right that's right! Now pop along 
 and get your own tea I'll look after the 
 shop " 
 
 And Anthony sipped his tea and listened to 
 the young men and looked about the little room. 
 It was more like home than any place he had 
 been in more like the little shop in Bolton 
 there was the same brownness of the walls 
 and the dusty smell of leather. But instead of 
 Samuel glowering over his shoes at new ideas 
 and at the changes of the world, there were two 
 young men who seemed to talk only in futures 
 they made wild, hopeful guesses at the next fifty 
 years; and they believed, modestly and quietly, 
 that they could paint.
 
 XVIII 
 
 THE BOOKSELLER 
 
 THE bookseller got up and went out to a cus- 
 tomer. Through the door they could see him 
 talking with the man and laughing and getting 
 down books. The customer, a little wrinkled, 
 old man, fussed and asked questions and the 
 bookseller got down another book. . . . 
 
 "Look at him," said Waitley, sipping his tea 
 with an eye on the door. " All that trouble 
 He won't sell sixpence. Look at him! . . . 
 He doesn't care !" 
 
 "Dan doesn't care !" said the other. "It's all 
 in the day's work for Dan!" 
 
 "Is that his name Daniel 6 ?" asked Anthony. 
 
 They stared a little. "Don't you know 
 Dan !" 
 
 Anthony shook his head. "I never saw him 
 
 before not till an hour ago." 
 
 142
 
 THE BOOKSELLER 143 
 
 They laughed out "Just like him! We 
 thought you'd known him years!" 
 
 "I suppose his name is outside on the sign, 
 I didn't happen to notice " said Anthony 
 thoughtfully. 
 
 "You wouldn't have seen if you had noticed. 
 There's another name on the sign." 
 
 "He doesn't own this *?" Anthony moved 
 his hand at the room and the small shop 
 beyond. He was a little disappointed. The 
 man seemed to belong to the place, and to the 
 books. 
 
 "He owns it all yes. But he doesn't own a 
 new sign he's never taken down the sign of the 
 man who owned it thirty years ago. . . . He 
 likes old things." They both laughed. 
 
 "New things, too!" said Waitley he was the 
 younger, smaller, more excited-looking of the 
 two "You never saw anybody just like Dan," 
 he said. 
 
 "I liked him as soon as I saw him," said An- 
 thony. 
 
 "Oh, you'll like him everybody likes him
 
 144 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 I don't suppose there's a man in London so mean 
 Dan wouldn't give his last sixpence to " 
 
 Out in the other room, the customer had put 
 his hand reluctantly in his pocket and brought 
 out something. 
 
 "Lost your bet!" said Cameron. 
 
 "Wait a minute," said Waitley. 
 
 "What did he buy, Dan 1 ?" The bookseller 
 stood in the door. 
 
 He laughed his gentle roaring laugh. 
 "Paid me a penny he owed from last time," he 
 said. He put it in the box. "Oh yes he's a 
 queer old chap !" Dan helped himself to jam 
 sighing heavily as if the world pleased him. He 
 took a bite of the bread slowly "Didn't I ever 
 tell you about Felson *? Well well yes " 
 His chuckles sounded from far inside some- 
 where. "Yes yes um-m !" 
 
 "Go ahead, Dan!" 
 
 The bookseller tasted the story slowly with 
 the bread and jam before he began . . . and, 
 running over and under and through his words, 
 went the jolly, bubbling, rolling laugh like
 
 THE BOOKSELLER 145 
 
 fauns and little fishes and big kind elephants 
 and frisking porpoises in the sun lighting it up. 
 . . . "He comes in about once a week now," 
 finished Dan as he took the last piece of bread 
 from the plate. 
 
 "Buys you out every time," suggested Cam- 
 eron. 
 
 "Ha ha ha!" The joke roared itself in 
 the comfortable spaces of Dan's laugh and echoed 
 back a little from the sides "Yes that's so 
 yes. . . . How's Ford getting on*?" He 
 looked at them with sudden turn. 
 
 They exchanged a glance. Dan's eye caught 
 it "Anything wrong with Ford*?" he asked. 
 
 "Dead broke " said Waitley. 
 
 "Didn't he get that order from the South 
 Guild*?" Dan was looking at them quickly. 
 
 "A woman got it!" said Cameron with deep- 
 seated Scotch scorn in his burr "an aesthetic 
 sort of person," he added. 
 
 Dan roared again but absently looking 
 into his empty cup. "We ought to fix him up 
 somehow " He said it thoughtfully "You
 
 146 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 going to see him to-night 1 ?" He looked at 
 them. 
 
 "If we can get at him yes." 
 
 "Tell him to drop in " said Dan. "I know 
 a man we ought to fix him up somehow. . . . 
 Lots of things. . . ." He got up and went out 
 to the shop whistling a little and laughing nerv- 
 ously and absently about nothing in particu- 
 lar. 
 
 "Dan would find a job for Old Nick him- 
 self," said Cameron, looking out toward the room 
 beyond. "He's got a dozen of us out of work 
 on his hands now " 
 
 Anthony had sat watching the men his eyes 
 shining a little. . . . "He gets a good deal out 
 of it," he said quietly. 
 
 They turned and looked at him 
 
 "Dan ? He doesn't make his salt!" 
 
 "He is salt " said Anthony. 
 
 "You're right there," said Waitley. " Life 
 tastes good to Dan. He's a great old chap !" 
 
 Anthony's ear caught the little note of affec- 
 tion and condescension in the words. . , . Dan
 
 THE BOOKSELLER 147 
 
 was a good chap yes not quite the equal of 
 future artists and great ones, perhaps but a 
 thoroughly good sort . . . and he had, really, 
 a wonderful eye for the right thing a kind of 
 knack for picking winners only he would just 
 as lief back a failure apparently, as a winner. 
 Queer, good, old chap Dan! 
 
 They did not say it, in so many words. But 
 as Anthony came to know the little shop and the 
 men who frequented it, he felt it now and then 
 in the air something of condescending kindli- 
 ness and, with it, a dumb, reaching need of the 
 man and his big laugh. . . . And down under- 
 neath all the estimates and opinions, he felt the 
 man's humanness holding them together lov- 
 ing them all, not because they were great, or 
 clever, or going to be great, but just because 
 Well, no one could tell quite why Dan loved 
 them some of them. ... It was a strange 
 medley in the little back room; old men they 
 had lived through to nothing; and young men 
 they were beginning and knew a great deal ; 
 coarse, heavy-featured men, who liked the
 
 1 4 8 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 breadth of the roaring laugh; and delicate, half- 
 degenerate young men who liked its humanness ; 
 and young men with the light of morning, who 
 liked it for the freshness ringing in it Dan's 
 laugh gathered them all under its friendliness 
 and blessed them to each other. 
 
 Anthony fell into the habit of dropping in to 
 the back room, and listening to the talk and to 
 Dan's laugh pictures and music and books, the 
 theatre, politics, beggars, social reform, women's 
 hats nothing human was alien in the back 
 room. ... M. P's. from the North Country, 
 with a burr in the acquired cockney accent and a 
 little roughness in their coats, fell into the way 
 of knowing something about pictures looking 
 at them with the eye of faith that scorned pre- 
 things and post-things anything that did not 
 peer on ahead at least fifty years; and curly- 
 headed young artists, without a moral to bless 
 themselves with, were drawn into socio-ethical 
 discussions and aired their views and learned 
 slowly ; long-haired essayists and poets and near- 
 sighted egoists joined in the talk and were
 
 THE BOOKSELLER 149 
 
 mowed down under Dan's laugh, and came up 
 refreshed and blinking, and thinking well of 
 themselves and almost as well of one another. 
 
 It may have been because Dan did not laugh 
 quite so hard or so often at Anthony, that the 
 others came to listen to his quaint slowness. . . . 
 He did not know much about pictures, or music, 
 or politics, it seemed but he had something that 
 undergirded them all and while he talked, Dan 
 would sit, across the desk, a pencil in his fingers, 
 making little meaningless marks, and looking up 
 now and then with a swift glance a little 
 twinkling, still-born laugh that went on mak- 
 ing marks and listening. 
 
 "He knows " said Dan. 
 
 Anthony had gone out, after a kind of hustling 
 talk about the Futurists and their work. "He 
 knows " said Dan, thoughtfully. 
 
 "He's fey," said Cameron. He was look- 
 ing at his nails regretfully he had a little 
 habit of biting them due, perhaps, to oatmeal 
 diet, and it troubled his social conscience. . . . 
 "He's got a kind of second-sight to go by," he
 
 150 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 said, thoughtfully. "He's perfectly right about 
 Carra and Severini, you know. . . . But I'll 
 bet he couldn't tell how he knows it. ... And 
 you see how he spotted Boccioni the very pick 
 
 of the lot " 
 
 "Not by a long chalk! Boccioni 
 can't ... !" and the battle raged on out of 
 blindness and life and the great sunny spaces of 
 Dan's little den and his friendly laugh. 
 
 Mother had her own opinion of Dan Boyden's 
 book shop. "It must be a queer sort of place," 
 she confided to Wallace. "He hasn't got a new 
 book in it, hardly, Anthony says. That's one of 
 the pictures he sells " she pointed to a small 
 rough sketch on the mantel "Anthony bought 
 it paid four shillings for it " she looked at 
 him significantly. 
 
 Wallace had walked over to the shelf and 
 picked up the sketch. . . . "It's not bad, you 
 know !" He looked at it thoughtfully. 
 
 "It's queer !" said Mother. She spoke slowly,
 
 THE BOOKSELLER 151 
 
 looking at it doubtfully. "Maybe it's Eng- 
 lish !" she said. 
 
 Wallace smiled a little. "I don't know. I 
 never heard of the fellow " He scanned the 
 name in the corner. "It's French but that 
 doesn't tell you anything ! He may have 
 been born here. . . . It's a nice little thing and 
 a good reproduction " He set it back on the 
 shelf; and Mother looked at it swiftly, every 
 now and then, as she went about her work. 
 
 Presently she came back to the picture. 
 "How do you tell, Wally?" she asked. 
 
 "Tell what?" 
 
 "That it's a 'nice little thing'?" She was 
 looking at the picture wistfully. 
 
 "Oh I don't know it's clean and alive, 
 don't you see the lines of it " He came over 
 beside her, looking at it. 
 
 "Yes it's clean I try not to let things get 
 dusty. . . . But I don't know as I should say 
 it was alive. . ."
 
 XIX 
 
 ON BLACKFRIARS BRIDGE 
 
 IT was a favourite walk with Anthony out 
 across Blackfriars Bridge and back. He took it 
 every day, sometimes two or three times a day; 
 he grew to know it in all its lights and at every 
 hour, and to know the crowd that streamed across 
 it ceaselessly hurrying in the grey morning to- 
 ward the city and hurrying back at night toward 
 something in the long brick rows they called 
 home. Often at sunset the smoke pall was lifted 
 from London and the stream across the bridge 
 and the stream beneath it were lighted by a 
 deep, glowing sky clouds piled themselves, 
 and the light struck and glinted from the faces, 
 and lay on the green-brown water below, and 
 crept in shadows and a kind of purple mist over 
 scows and belated boats and far-flying gulls. 
 . . . Anthony, looking over the parapet, 
 watched the boats and the sluggish water and 
 the gulls, and felt the crowd passing ceaselessly 
 
 152
 
 ON BLACKFRIARS BRIDGE 153 
 
 behind. He liked to feel them close always 
 going, never-resting; his ears listened to the 
 rhythm of feet. Under the hammer of cars on 
 rails and the clang of 'buses and rumbling 
 wheels, he caught a steady-moving hum of feet, 
 the march of life across its bridge; his pulses 
 beat with it and its tune sang to him a little. 
 . . . When he turned and looked at the faces, 
 he lost for a moment the march of feet; the 
 faces were tired or sad or set vacantly ahead 
 only the feet marched together. Deep in some 
 
 inner place, they caught a common rhythm 
 
 out of sadness and harshness and injustice, they 
 moved across the bridge. Anthony, with his 
 back to the parapet, watched them pass and re- 
 pass all the shoes of London, old and new; 
 and the old ones hastened pace, because the new 
 ones stepped to hope; and the rhythm slowed 
 itself to take them up ... beat-along, beat- 
 along, London feet You could not stand 
 
 long on Blackfriars Bridge without feeling the 
 pulse of London flowing to the heart and 
 back
 
 154 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 The shoes of London troubled Anthony, the 
 shapes of the moving feet on the bridge It was 
 not only that they were ragged and broken and 
 needed mending they seemed to be saying 
 something to him all of them together. . . . 
 Gradually he came to see that two patterns cov- 
 ered them all two lasts had served to give the 
 shapes; there were heavy, working shoes with 
 stubbed, clumping lines and a little obstinate 
 and harsh and dull as the heels wore down or 
 sides bulged and toes raised themselves and 
 gaped; and there were the gentle, polite shoes 
 with slim lines and long, thin vamps shoes that 
 did not tread the ground so much as move upon 
 it graciously. Anthony watched them only 
 two kinds; and each he recognised and placed 
 upon its last plebeian and aristocrat, high and 
 low and rich and poor. Sometimes a heavy foot 
 had thrust itself into the slim shoe, and minced 
 a little and spread wide upon its cheap, aristo- 
 cratic-aping sole; but more often it was the shoe 
 itself that was degraded the old, slim, aristo-
 
 ON BLACKFRIARS BRIDGE 155 
 
 cratic last adjusted to a tradesman's foot, and 
 playing at being genteel. 
 
 Anthony's eye followed them all, and made 
 swift adjustments a little shortening here, a 
 shading there the slim last had been too thin, 
 the clumping one too heavy; each must give 
 way a little, to the normal human foot. . . . 
 Anthony saw it in his mind the firm, human 
 foot, springing with spirit from the ground, at 
 home on the earth ... he had made many 
 shoes from that last for rich men and poor 
 men. . . . One day, staring down at the 
 moving feet, he gave a little start and glanced 
 up. The glance that met his eye smiled back, 
 and the stranger touched his hat and was gone. 
 An American. . . . 
 
 Anthony drew a little breath, and his eyes fol- 
 lowed the retreating back too slouching and 
 thin, not well set up, not trim and well-brushed 
 any English clerk would carry himself more 
 sprucely, half the crowd moving past wore trim- 
 mer coats more compactly buttoned . .
 
 156 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 but the feet of the man set toward the morn- 
 ing. . . . Anthony's eyes followed him - 
 the countryman with the slouching, half-formed 
 back and careless head and quick step. . . . 
 Slowly something crystallised in him, something 
 that for weeks had been gathering itself from the 
 traffic of Blackfriars and the sky and Thames. 
 
 The spirit of England A house divided 
 against itself high and low no middle 
 ground. He held the thought, as he might have 
 held it on the shoemaker's bench, turning it 
 slowly looking at it from every side, half 
 thinking, half feeling his way to the truth that 
 beat its rhythm upon the bridge. ... A 
 nation longing for democracy and separated 
 forever by its shoes the shoes of the past. 
 Only shoes of high and low, plebeian and aristo- 
 crat. . . . All the great middle class that 
 should have been men and women standing firm, 
 reaching up and reaching down, were content 
 with the shoes of the dead. . . . 
 
 Anthony felt the unrest surging on the bridge, 
 pulsing to the farthest limits of the great town
 
 ON BLACKFRIARS BRIDGE 157 
 
 strikes and threats, vague stirrings of resent- 
 ment ... he saw the Syndicalist pacing the 
 deck, his hair blown in the wind. . . . This 
 was what it meant the mutterings underneath 
 a great middle class in need of shoes and no 
 shoes ready for them only clumsy, lumbering 
 peasant boots, spruced up a little, and the slim, 
 dapper boots of a bygone aristocracy. His 
 quickened eye followed the lines again to 
 shorten them here and make them firm to 
 lengthen that line and lighten it and fit it to the 
 foot his fingers moved of themselves a little; 
 and in his heart the understanding grew the 
 understanding that had been slowly coming to 
 him out of the eyes of beggars and men and 
 women, and it became a sudden quick sympathy 
 for a nation a whole nation condemned to 
 wear shoes that did not fit without insight to 
 make them fit or courage to throw away the old 
 last, to take new measures for the men half- 
 tradesmen, half-heroes who walked in the 
 cramped, ill-fitting shoes of England dead. . . . 
 One class, Anthony noted, stood apart well-
 
 158 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 shod, their heavy, serviceable boots alert and 
 competent; one class did not aspire in silk hat 
 and frock coat and smug green-grocer counte- 
 nance to rise a little in the scale; one class did 
 not look down with lofty, clean-cut gaze 
 upon the wallowings of the poor; firm on both 
 feet, they overlooked the crowd the one class 
 that stood neither to gain or lose by unrest 
 England's truly great ones the Metropolitan 
 police. Anthony never passed one of them 
 standing symbol of the Bank of England with 
 his straight gaze under the set helmet and the 
 little smile between the chin-strap and crisp 
 moustache that he did not look his fill at the 
 comfortable happy foot, in its well-fitting shoe 
 not too heavy for comfort, not too light for serv- 
 ice the one shoe in England that fitted; his 
 eyes dwelt on it happily, and when he saw a brace 
 of them swinging out from their station to re- 
 port on duty he turned and followed them 
 with his gaze as long as the blue, easy-swinging 
 figures remained in sight. . . . This strange 
 great brotherly nation with shoes that pinched,
 
 ON BLACKFRIARS BRIDGE 159 
 
 and shoes that chafed, that he was coming to un- 
 derstand and to love. 
 
 Thoughts like these half-confused, half -felt 
 flitted in and out through Anthony's mind as 
 he stood watching the crowd surge across the 
 bridge. ... It was the American that "had 
 started the flitting thoughts the American with 
 amused glance and trim, well-shod feet; there 
 had been only the amused, half -flicker ing glance 
 and he was gone and the democratic vistas 
 that his shoes had opened were gone. 
 
 Anthony sighed a little and moved on. Some- 
 times, in all the moving crowd, he felt a little 
 lonely. Even Dan Boyden's shop left him 
 lonely sometimes; he wanted to talk with all 
 these people on the bridge about the kind of 
 shoes they wore and the principles of Democracy. 
 . . . Anthony strolled slowly on. Suddenly 
 he stopped and looked down it was quite a dif- 
 ferent pair, and they were standing firmly 
 planted, beside the parapet not American 
 shoes no too broad and firm for American 
 make . . and these shoes had walked in a
 
 160 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 Past but not the English past too cosmopoli- 
 tan for English lines. . . . Slowly Anthony's 
 eyes lifted themselves and his glance travelled 
 up a pair of straight, vigorous, English legs and 
 to a slim waistcoat and smooth-shaven chin and 
 a pair of eyes that were looking down on him, a 
 little absently, it seemed it was a fine old face, 
 several hundred years old. Anthony's eyes 
 dropped again to the shoes hand-made, in every 
 line a master workman, craftsman, artist- 
 worker Anthony lifted his eyes again to the 
 man's ancient face 
 
 "Those are very unusual boots you are wear- 
 ing, sir " he said. 
 
 The face stared at him. 
 
 Anthony made a polite gesture toward the 
 shoes he spread his palms a little, as if paying 
 homage to perfect workmanship. And the 
 man's eye dropped a smile came to his face. 
 "There's only one man in the world can make a 
 pair like them," he said. The boots planted 
 themselves a little more firmly on the bridge and 
 Anthony stood looking at them with happy eyes.
 
 ON BLACKFRIARS BRIDGE 161 
 
 The man's glance rested on him, half-amused 
 . . . the fellow seemed to think he had a right 
 to stare as if one were a show window, or 
 picture-gallery The feet moved a trifle 
 
 Anthony looked up. "I should like to see the 
 man who did them " he said quietly. "Does 
 he live in London, sir*?" 
 
 "In London*? no." The man turned away. 
 He looked back the fellow was staring rapt in 
 a vision. The boots turned back a little "They 
 were made in Berlin," said the man. 
 
 He could not have told why he volunteered 
 it but, really, if you find a man reading an 
 anonymous poem on your toes with idiotic 
 delight you have to tell him if you know 
 "A man in Berlin " he said. "His name I 
 forget Schnappes, it might be " 
 
 Anthony's face was alight "I am going to 
 Berlin," he said quietly. "I shall see him." 
 
 "He'll make you a pair if you pay him." 
 The man had grown brusque. He turned to 
 move on. 
 
 But Anthony's voice held him a minute. "I
 
 162 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 want to talk to him " said Anthony. "There 
 must be a great many things he knows things 
 that I have thought about." 
 
 The man wheeled about and glanced down, 
 
 sharply No, the fellow was not mad not 
 
 even touched with oddity it seemed only 
 open and straight. . . . The man, too, moving 
 in his crowd, was often lonely. Sometimes it 
 seemed that there was no one in England to talk 
 to He looked again, sharply, at the quiet 
 face. 
 
 "I can give you the address the man that 
 made them if you want it," he said. 
 
 "I should like it," said Anthony. "I am 
 going to Berlin with my son." 
 
 The man scribbled on a piece of paper and 
 held it out. "That is my address," he said, "and 
 I have the man's, at home somewhere if 
 you will come for it." 
 
 "I will come any time," said Anthony. He 
 took the paper, smoothing it in his fingers. 
 
 "To-morrow then about tea-time." He 
 touched his hat a little and moved away through
 
 ON BLACKFRIARS BRIDGE 163 
 
 the crowd. Anthony watched him go. He felt 
 somewhere a kind of a warm glow as if the man 
 were a friend . . . moving away through the 
 crowd.
 
 XX 
 
 ANTHONY MEETS A LORD 
 
 MOTHER took the paper and put on her glasses 
 and read it slowly "Raleigh, 63 Portland 
 Square " 
 
 "Raleigh's a part of the place, I suppose, kind 
 of a handle to it," she remarked; "seems as if 
 they tried to see how many names they could 
 have to a place over here." 
 
 "Over here" covered everything that was 
 English and outlandish. 
 
 Anthony studied the paper. "I thought 
 maybe Raleigh was the man's name," he said. 
 
 "Sir Walter Raleigh ," said Mother 
 promptly. "That's what you're thinking of. 
 There isn't any 'Sir' on this, is there or 'Mr.,' 
 or anything You'll find it's just some queer 
 idea about where he lives." 
 
 And having disposed of Portland Square and 
 its queerness, Mother began to set the table for 
 
 164
 
 ANTHONY MEETS A LORD 165 
 
 supper. They always had "supper," a good 
 New England supper, at half-past five. 
 
 Wallace was coming to-night. He had fallen 
 into a way of coming in for supper, making it his 
 tea and dining at an hour that would have sur- 
 prised Mother if he had happened to mention it. 
 But, though Wallace still went to the theatre, he 
 did not so often find his way around to the back 
 of the stage after the play. Before Mother 
 dawned on London with her pies it had been 
 the expected thing for Wallace Tilton "the 
 rich American, you know " to come around to 
 the back of the stage and take two or three of 
 them to supper. Now, reproachful glances over 
 the footlights and even illspelled little notes 
 seemed to have no effect on Wallace. "He's 
 up to something new," they pronounced, and 
 gradually they left him to himself. He was 
 not the only man in London even if he had 
 the money. 
 
 And Wallace was beginning slowly to com- 
 pute whether he had the money and how much 
 and why and looking into his affairs gener-
 
 166 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 ally. ... In time he turned his attention to 
 the office old projects, that he had forgotten, 
 recurred to him and he tightened his hand on 
 them, and on the business as a whole. There 
 could be no question that he was "up to some- 
 thing new." The company did not go behind 
 returns. If they had heard of the famous pie- 
 and-doughnut cure, they would probably have 
 smiled, incredulous. The main thing was, that 
 the business "over there" was steadying itself 
 and Wallace Tilton was making it pay. 
 
 Mother looked in her cupboard and took out 
 her best goodies and set them on the table and 
 sent Anthony out for cheese, and made the tea, 
 and was ready when the two men came in 
 together to beam upon them out of a clear con- 
 science and a heartful of love. 
 
 She had intended to ask Wallace about Port- 
 land Square, but a proposal to take her to Epping 
 Forest the next day drove it out of her head. 
 
 It was not till just as she was about to start 
 with Wallace the next afternoon a little parcel
 
 ANTHONY MEETS A LORD 167 
 
 of ginger-snaps stowed in her black bag that 
 she remembered Anthony's "man." 
 
 "I declare, I meant to go there with you," she 
 said. "But you can find it all right and tell 
 me about it when you get back." 
 
 So she departed to join Wallace at the bot- 
 tom of the seventy-three steps. He did not 
 climb them oftener than was necessary though 
 he suspected that a certain feeling of lightness 
 in his legs was partly due to frequent exercise on 
 the seventy-three steps. 
 
 Anthony, left alone, fussed about the room a 
 little, whistling to the canary and making ready 
 to call on his friend in Portland Square. "About 
 tea-time," the man had said that would be any 
 time from four to six. . . . Anthony put on 
 clean linen and brushed himself carefully; even 
 Mother would hardly have found fault with him 
 when he was ready; he had a kind of gentle 
 pride in his clothes, and the shoes he wore were 
 his best ones but not the equal of those on 
 Blackfriars Bridge. He had never seen a pair
 
 168 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 as perfect as those. He hoped his friend would 
 wear them to-day. 
 
 It was his "friend" he was going to see he 
 had not thought of him in any other way since 
 he watched him disappear in the crowd. . . . 
 He smoothed the paper and tucked it in his 
 pocket and started out. 
 
 The butler dropped a severe eye on him. 
 "You must have made a mistake." He said the 
 words stiffly, his hand reaching back to the wide- 
 open door and drawing it toward him. 
 
 Anthony's glance held it a second. "I thought 
 the name was Raleigh." He drew out the paper 
 and held it toward the severe countenance not 
 to confute it, but seeking courteous informa- 
 tion. 
 
 The butler's eye paused without interest 
 and flickered a little and held itself: and 
 darted down at the paper. He made a little 
 pecking motion toward it, and the door opened 
 grudgingly. 
 
 Anthony stepped in. He looked up at the
 
 ANTHONY iMEETS A LORD 169 
 
 high walls pictures and brackets and screens 
 and at a great staircase ascending by a stained- 
 glass window. 
 
 The butler turned away. "What name shall 
 I give his Lordship?" he asked. 
 
 Anthony's gaze dropped gently from the 
 stained-glass to the butler's face. "Wickham," 
 he said. He uttered it out of a kind of dream. 
 He had never been in a place like this. . . . 
 It pleased his fancy and he looked about him 
 happily. 
 
 "Wickham" The butler's teeth held it, 
 with a little wrench. He eyed the slim, gentle 
 
 figure again. There are all sorts of lords He 
 
 moved toward a door, borne on stately calves, 
 and waved a figurative hand, and Anthony en- 
 tered the high-ceiled, gracious room. Through 
 the open doorway he watched the two stately 
 calves ascend the wide staircase and the lofty 
 head outline itself against the glass. ... It 
 was very quiet in the room no sound could have 
 touched the soft-hanging curtains and thick rugs 
 and the delicate blending colour of porcelain and
 
 170 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 leather and bronze. Anthony had stepped into 
 another London the bleary, red-eyed beggars 
 faded to a flickering fringe of dreams, and Dan 
 Boyden's bookshop rolled away in a laugh. He 
 turned his head and looked about him and 
 down the long vista in its subdued light. . . . 
 He had always known there was a place like this 
 somewhere. . . . Even on his shoemaker's 
 bench, tapping in the dim light, with fat Samuel 
 opposite scowling at soles, he had felt there was 
 a place like this. . . . 
 
 The butler stood exactly in the centre of the 
 door his heels exactly together, and his level 
 glance ahead "His Lordship will see you," he 
 commanded, and Anthony looked at him vaguely 
 and followed him up the wide staircase to a 
 great, closed, oak door; the butler bent his head 
 and knocked and straightened himself and 
 opened it standing with heels together and the 
 level, impersonal gaze. 
 
 Anthony heard the door click behind him and 
 he looked up. He was in a room full of sun- 
 shine pouring down from the lighted roof and
 
 ANTHONY MEETS A LORD 171 
 
 in at the windows and his friend was crossing 
 the room to meet him. 
 
 "How are you"? Glad you found your way 
 Sit down." He drew forward a chair and 
 Anthony sat down still in his dream. 
 
 His host sat opposite him, his knees crossed 
 and one foot swinging lightly. It was shod in a 
 shining slipper, patent leather and fine in texture, 
 but the same last as the boots of Blackfriars 
 Bridge. 
 
 Anthony bent toward it "The same 
 man ?" he said smiling. 
 
 The other thrust it out a little. "Schnappes 
 yes. He does for me entirely I found his 
 address somewhere " He got up and fumbled 
 in the mass of papers on a table and found it; 
 but he did not give it up he held it in his 
 fingers and the talk drifted to America and 
 back to London. Anthony's mind expanded and 
 relaxed; little whimsical thoughts came to him 
 thoughts that he had never mentioned to Sam- 
 uel, or even to Mother, or in Dan Boyden's shop. 
 
 The man opposite with the gentle-swinging
 
 1 7 2 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 foot, laughed a little, now and then and tasted 
 the slow Yankee flavour with delicate palate. 
 He, too, was a little tired of fat Samuels and 
 obsequious attendants and friends. He had 
 never been talked to quite in this way by a 
 shoemaker. ... It all came out as Anthony 
 talked the little shop in Bolton, Samuel and 
 Simon and the checker-board and the Ministers 
 with tombs and gateways and itineraries; 
 Anthony's mind played with it, and laughed 
 and the man played with it, too he did not 
 argue, or explain, or instruct; his foot swung 
 happily, a little awkwardly, and now and then 
 he laughed out and got up and stretched himself 
 and walked across the room the sunshine fall- 
 ing on the white hair and keen, thin, gentle face 
 and the delicate hands. One of the hands still 
 held the slip of paper with the address, and it 
 gestured as he talked. 
 
 Tea came in with hovering attendants, 
 broadcloth backs that withdrew and left the 
 kettle glistening and steaming gently in the sun. 
 The host came over and poured it out and they
 
 ANTHONY MEETS A LORD 173 
 
 drew nearer the fire, still talking the light 
 from above lessened in the room; it grew dim, 
 and the firelight conquered it, before his lord- 
 ship held out the slip of paper in his thin fingers 
 and Anthony stood up, blinking a little. 
 
 "I'll give you a note to him if you like. You 
 must come to my place up in the country. You'll 
 like it there, I think. We have a great deal 
 to talk about. I am glad to have met you " 
 He held out his hand. 
 
 So Anthony found his way down the spacious 
 stair-case where His Stiffness offered a hat in 
 respectful fingers and held the door wide for 
 him to go. "Wickham" Lord Wickham *? 
 It might be you never can tell with these 
 modern Lords. He closed the door softly and 
 respectfully behind the shoemaker-lord; and 
 Anthony went down the steps back to his long, 
 drab world of shoes and beggars and shuffling 
 feet.
 
 XXI 
 
 MOTHER AND THE LONDON BUS 
 
 So, through shoes and through beggars and a 
 lord or two, and through the book-shop and Wal- 
 lace Til ton, London opened its doors to Anthonv 
 Wickham and his wife. 
 
 To Mother, it is true, it made small difference 
 whether doors opened or not; safe behind her 
 own door, her two doors, with her canary and 
 her gas-stove, she found plenty to do. She only 
 left the nest on swift, hurried forays for food, 
 hurrying along Fleet Street through the rum- 
 ble and traffic with her net-bag grasped tight 
 around the top, darting in at the Temple Gate 
 at last with a sigh of relief. Under Wallace's 
 protecting wing, she explored wider reaches 
 but always with a little superior, detached scorn 
 that left her untouched by the roaring life about 
 her. 
 
 Perhaos her nearest conception of it came 
 174
 
 MOTHER AND THE 'BUS 175 
 
 from the top of 'buses, where mounted high out 
 of danger she looked down on silly London 
 scudding this way and that. 
 
 "It's a kind of game, London is, isn't it, 
 Wally *?" she said one day. 
 
 They were sitting on the top of No. 13, on 
 the front seat, and they had halted a minute, 
 before an outstretched blue arm, on the verge 
 of Piccadilly. Mother leaned over the front 
 board and looked on the hurrying, scurrying, 
 shooting mass She watched the taxis rush and 
 turn and thread their way, grazing by a breath's 
 gaze with their sliding wheels. 
 
 "It's a kind of game, Wally! If you watch, 
 up here, you can see how they do it, can't you !" 
 
 Wally leaned over beside her and watched 
 the game. He had no longer any shy discretion 
 at being seen on the front seat of No. 13, with 
 a little round woman beaming in a bonnet. He 
 seemed to have come into a place where such 
 things did not matter. . . . He watched the 
 shining, darting wheels. It was a game the 
 game of London, playing on the stones. . . .
 
 176 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 A cool head and quick hand to play it; but there 
 was zest about it give and take, seize your 
 chance keep it on the move. . . . The block 
 gave way the policeman's big foot strolled to 
 the curb. No. 13 seized its chance and darted 
 by a slower-witted, waiting 'bus and dodged in 
 front and honked a little and was off on 
 chugging wheel. "Full-up, full-up!'* chanted 
 the conductor his voice coming up, courteous 
 and wary, from below "Sorry, sir Full-up, 
 full-up!" and pedestrians scowled up and 
 turned away, and seized another chance and 
 Number 13 went chugging, chumping, rumbling 
 on its way. 
 
 It was on a Whitechapel 'bus that Mother 
 came on Tony Wasson. She saw him from the 
 top and insisted on getting down to speak to 
 him. "I know it's him, Wally. He's got on 
 the shoes Anthony mended for him and the 
 stockings I gave him, I don't doubt." She 
 stood up, wavering plumply as the 'bus came to 
 a halt, and Wallace helped her down the cork- 
 screw stair. The 'bus had gone by the sham-
 
 MOTHER AND THE 'BUS 177 
 
 bling figure; and they wandered back, looking 
 here and there in the crowd. 
 
 "He's gone by this time, Mother. You won't 
 find him better take the next 'bus " 
 
 But Mother was firm, and at last they came 
 on him, at a turn, bending to adjust the thick 
 strap of the basket on his shoulder. He let fall 
 the strap when he saw the round face in its 
 bonnet. 
 
 He touched his hat "Morning, ma'am " 
 
 Mother held out her hand. She had liked 
 this man the best of them all her keen eyes 
 had detected a difference; he had not whined 
 when he accepted the stockings and the mended 
 shoes; and when she handed him cookies he had 
 looked at her straight. "The children would 
 like them," he had said. Mother had thought 
 of the children many times since as she rolled 
 out her cookies, or took them, brown and fra- 
 grant, from her oven "Did they like them*?" 
 she asked, still holding out her hand. 
 
 The man rubbed his hand, a little shyly, on 
 his coat, and took the round one.
 
 178 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 "They had a treat with 'em, ma'am," he said. 
 "They've spoke about it since many a time." 
 He bent his shoulder again toward the strap. 
 
 Mother looked curiously into the basket. 
 "You're selling bananas," she said. 
 
 She fingered them a little and talked and Tony 
 talked . . . and Mother counted her change. 
 
 In the end, two dozen bananas bulged in Wal- 
 lace's arms, and they were walking along with 
 Tony, the heavy strap adjusted to his shoulder 
 the youngest child was ill, yes a fever. He 
 climbed up the stairs, ahead of them, and opened 
 the door cautiously. 
 
 A young woman, in a nurse's cap and apron, 
 came forward with her finger at her lip. 
 
 Tony Wasson pointed to his companions and 
 slipped the strap from his shoulder. The nurse 
 beckoned them into another room, closing the 
 door softly "He's asleep," she said. 
 
 "How is he*?" asked the man. His hands 
 hung at his sides and the fingers fumbled a little 
 at his coat. 
 
 "Better," said the nurse. "The fever broke
 
 MOTHER AND THE 'BUS 179 
 
 this morning. He will feel like himself when 
 he wakes." 
 
 Other children came hurrying up the stair 
 from school, and the nurse set out luncheon for 
 them, and quieted them. Wallace Tilton, sit- 
 ting at one side, watched her waiting on the chil- 
 dren. Mother talked with Tony Wasson. . . . 
 By-and-by she tiptoed into the bedroom; the 
 children, with another slice of bread and a banana 
 from the basket, rushed back to school. 
 
 The nurse stirred something in a little basin 
 on the stove. Mother came out and beckoned 
 to her and they talked, the nurse stirring the 
 gruel with careful, listening spoon; she looked 
 up and smiled and nodded and they went into 
 the bedroom. When they came out Wallace 
 and Tony Wasson were deep in Woman's Suf- 
 frage. "She could vote all right " Tony jerked 
 a thumb toward the basin of gruel in the win- 
 dow. "She could do it all right It's them hus- 
 sies in the shops as I wouldn't trust wi' the 
 vote nor wi' onything!" he added darkly. 
 
 The nurse appeared in the doorway. "He's
 
 i8o THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 waked up," she said. "He's like himself. She 
 took up the basin of gruel, blowing it a little 
 
 Tony went into the bedroom. 
 
 Mother gathered up her black bag and 
 straightened her bonnet a little and put on her 
 cotton gloves. "I'll send 'em right away " 
 she said, "this afternoon Wally*!! see to it."
 
 XXII 
 
 NURSE TIMBERLAKE 
 
 ANTHONY was ill. Mother discovered it long 
 before Anthony knew it himself. When he re- 
 fused the doughnut she looked at him sharply. 
 That afternoon she scurried out to a chemist's 
 and brought back a packet of boneset, which she 
 steeped on the gas-stove and gave him, bitterly, 
 to drink. The next day he refused the piece 
 of pie, and she told Wallace. 
 
 "He's heavy and logy, and his head's hot; he 
 didn't take the doughnut. I don't see how I 
 can have him sick in London." 
 
 Wallace suggested a doctor. The next day 
 Anthony stayed in all day, and at night the 
 doctor came. 
 
 "A little fever nothing serious; keep him 
 quiet and feed him light." 
 
 Mother put on her second-best apron and sent 
 
 Wallace for beef-extract. But Wallace was not 
 
 181
 
 182 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 always at hand, and Mother toiled up and down 
 seventy- three steps many times a day; loss of 
 sleep began to tell on her. Wallace proposed 
 a nurse. 
 
 Mother shook her head. "I don't want any 
 strange woman taking care of him" she said. 
 
 "Have a man." 
 
 "He'd be in the way," said Mother. 
 
 The next day when Wallace appeared Mother 
 looked up and squinted a little through her 
 glasses some one was with him. Mother 
 looked again. She held out both hands. 
 "Well, I'm glad to see you" she said. 
 
 The nurse smiled. "Mr. Tilton said you 
 mightn't want me " 
 
 "I told Wally I didn't want any strange 
 women around he might 'a' known, well 
 enough, I'd want you How's the little boy 1 ?" 
 
 "He's quite well in school again I saw him 
 yesterday." The nurse had taken off her long 
 cape and bonnet and was moving about the room 
 as if she had always lived there. 
 
 Mother watched her approvingly. "You're
 
 NURSE TIMBERLAKE 183 
 
 the kind to take right hold I don't know why 
 I didn't think of you How did Wally find 
 you?" 
 
 "He enquired of Tony, I suppose most of 
 my work lies in that district; I was just through 
 with a case " She glanced at the adjoining 
 room "You can lie down now and get a good 
 rest. I'll call you if I need anything." 
 
 "You don't know where things are " 
 
 The nurse smiled. "I think I can find them 
 here. I'm used to places where everything's in 
 confusion, you know." 
 
 "Well I guess I'll let you. I am tired." 
 Mother took off her glasses and put them in their 
 case. "You can stay all the afternoon, can 
 you*?" she asked doubtfully. 
 
 "As long as you want me Mr. Tilton said 
 you might need me some time." 
 
 So Mother lay down in the darkened room 
 and fell asleep like a child; and Nurse Timber- 
 lake went to and fro, smiling at the compact ar- 
 rangement of the little set of chambers. There 
 was everything in the big cupboard that one
 
 184 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 could need for a siege, and the coal-box was 
 filled to the top. 
 
 She was not accustomed to having everything 
 to hand. Many of the places where she went 
 to nurse had no cupboard; and when they had 
 one it was, more often than not, empty; and 
 coal came by the scuttleful. ... It was part 
 of the strenuous training, to evoke coal from 
 the depths, and to make gruel of water and air, 
 and a very little flour and be thankful for salt. 
 Often during her apprenticeship she had cried 
 at night from aching feet and from the ignorance 
 and emptiness of cupboards. Now, it was all 
 in the day's work. What the dispensary could 
 supply, she took promptly; and what could not 
 be supplied, either by the dispensary or the so- 
 ciety or by mother-wit, she went without. The 
 sentiment of over-pity for herself, or for the very 
 poor, was a luxury! She had let luxuries go 
 when she became district nurse. 
 
 She bent over Anthony, offering the cup of 
 broth, and he drank it slowly 
 
 "Where is Mother?" he asked.
 
 NURSE TIMBERLAKE 185 
 
 "Lying down asleep," said Nurse Timber- 
 lake. 
 
 "That's good " It was hardly more than 
 a faint whisper "How did you get in 1 ?" he 
 asked after a minute. 
 
 The nurse smiled. "It's all right she knows 
 I'm here. She wants me." 
 
 Anthony's face relaxed. "You under 
 stand Mother " he said, and dozed content- 
 edly. 
 
 An hour later, when Wallace came back, the 
 nurse was sitting by the window under the bird- 
 cage, reading. A cloth had been thrown over 
 the cage to keep the bird quiet. She looked up, 
 as the door opened, and put up her finger and 
 came out to the landing, closing the door softly 
 behind her. 
 
 "How are they?" he said. 
 
 "Sleeping both of them " she held one 
 hand on the door, ready to go back. 
 
 "Is there anything I can do or get*?" He 
 was noticing that little white caps make a pretty 
 frame for a youngish face.
 
 i86 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 The face shook itself. "There isn't anything 
 any one can get. I never saw such a cup- 
 board " 
 
 Wallace smiled back "That's Mother!" 
 He stood a few minutes longer, asking about 
 Anthony, and noting how the light from the 
 window fell on the face, making little rays of 
 the cap-frill. . . . "Well, let me know I 
 won't come in no. There's a telephone on the 
 ground floor. I asked as I came up you can 
 use it, yes. Good-day " 
 
 He went slowly down the steps, a feeling of 
 relief gathering with each flight She was evi- 
 dently competent and Mother needed some one 
 and not bad looking. . . . He ran down 
 the last few steps like a boy he would come 
 back to enquire again, before he went to sleep.
 
 XXIII 
 
 A GOOD WIFE FOR JOHN 
 
 "SHE'LL make a good wife for John " an- 
 nounced Mother. 
 
 Anthony was sitting up, with a blanket across 
 his knees. Mother had just given him his broth. 
 Nurse Timberlake was gone for a walk in the 
 Embankment Gardens. Wallace Tilton had in- 
 sisted on her going for a walk, and had attended 
 to it by going with her himself as she started 
 away. 
 
 They were sitting on a bench watching three 
 ragamuffins tumbling on the back of the bench 
 just beyond. A gentleman in a silk hat, sat 
 erect at the end of the bench nursing his cane 
 after a minute he rose and walked stiffly away ; 
 the three boys stared after him they turned an- 
 other somersault, kicking their heels one of 
 them wore a shabby shoe laced neatly to the top* 
 
 the other foot entirely bare. 
 
 187
 
 188 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 Wallace watched them tumble "Poor little 
 beggars !" he said. 
 
 Nurse Timberlake smiled. "They're not 
 hungry," she replied. 
 
 He looked at her. "How do you know*?" 
 
 "One gets to tell." 
 
 Three soldiers, off duty, came clinking into 
 sight along the gravel path, marching abreast 
 legs free, heads up, chins in; they passed the 
 bench of ragamuffins, and swung on. . . . The 
 ragamuffins floated to the ground and picked up 
 the step and strode behind, backs stiff, heads up, 
 chins in air the glory of the British Army in 
 their heels. 
 
 Wallace Tilton laughed. "I believe you're 
 right! How did you get to know them so 
 well"?" 
 
 They got up and strolled on through the Park, 
 talking of her work and of London. They had 
 walked many times like this in the Gardens. 
 Anthony had been ill five weeks now, and they 
 had fallen into a way of coming to the Gardens 
 when Nurse Timberlake took her afternoon time
 
 A GOOD WIFE FOR JOHN 189 
 
 off. She would je going away soon. Anthony 
 was better nea^y well but Wallace haJ per- 
 suaded her to stay. Mother needed her, he >ad 
 said. 
 
 Mother loo" sd again over her glasses, 
 shrewdly, at / athony. "She'll make the best 
 kind of wife for John," she said. 
 
 Anthony smiled a little, "Better than Lydia 
 Bacon*?" he asked. 
 
 Mother looked at him. "I shouldn't have 
 let him marry Lydia in any case . . . and he 
 never wanted to marry her!" she added trium- 
 phantly. 
 
 "No " Anthony looked up at the west win- 
 dow. Great clouds of light were flooding the 
 sky. "How long is it before John comes 1 ?" he 
 asked. 
 
 "Three weeks," said Mother, promptly. 
 "He'll have a chance to see her. I'm going to 
 invite her to tea some afternoon. I've got it all 
 planned out!" She rolled up her work and laid 
 it aside.
 
 190 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 Anthony reached a thin hand to her. "Don't 
 count too much, on John, Mother," he said 
 gently. 
 
 Mother looked at him. "You feeling all 
 right, Anthony?" 
 
 "Yes" He smiled. "I'm all right but I 
 don't want you to be disap " Mother had dis- 
 appeared into her kitchen. . . . "She may be 
 interested in somebody else " said Anthony 
 softly. 
 
 Mother did not hear. She was absorbed in 
 something on her stove communing with it 
 and before she had finished, Nurse Timberlake 
 came back from her walk nothing more 
 could be said about a suitable wife for John. 
 
 Nurse Timberlake looked at Anthony. "You 
 would better lie down," she said. 
 
 "Yes I'm ready." He stood up, wavering 
 a little "Not very husky yet am I?" 
 
 She placed a hand on his shoulder. "You'll 
 do You're much better than yesterday." She 
 drew the coverlet over him and made him com- 
 fortable. Then she stood a minute, arranging
 
 A GOOD WIFE FOR JOHN 191 
 
 the papers on the table. Anthony had been 
 looking them over, and they were scattered about 
 among the glasses and bottles. 
 
 The nurse gathered them into a little pile. 
 Suddenly she stopped she glanced from the 
 paper in her hand to Anthony and back to the 
 slip of paper. But Anthony's eyes were closed 
 he had fallen asleep it was part of the weak- 
 ness from the fever. She glanced again at the 
 paper and put it with the others, slipping an 
 elastic band about them and putting them in the 
 table drawer by the bed. 
 
 When she returned to the sitting-room, Mother 
 was in her chair by the window sewing. 
 
 Nurse Timberlake crossed over to the window 
 and stood looking at the clear-lighted sky. "Do 
 you know a Lord Raleigh 1 ?" she asked carelessly. 
 
 Mother's head inclined and she looked over 
 the tops of her glasses. "Anthony knows 
 him " she said. "I never felt just sure about 
 his being a Lord," she added dryly. 
 
 Nurse Timberlake smiled. "Yes he's a 
 Lord. I saw the name on a slip of paper in
 
 192 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 there that was why I asked." She turned back 
 again to the window. 
 
 "Anthony's been to see him, two or three 
 times," said Mother "before he was taken 
 sick. He was meaning to take me. But I kind 
 of put it off. It never seemed just right to run 
 in any time to see a Lord and I kept putting it 
 off. ... I thought I'd get a new bonnet, 
 maybe. I don't suppose I shall see him now 
 not unless John wants to go. You know my 
 son is coming *?" She looked at her again over 
 the glasses shrewdly. 
 
 And the nurse smiled a little. Mrs. Wickham 
 had said her son was coming every afternoon 
 for five weeks.
 
 XXIV 
 
 THE QUESTION OF A BONNET 
 
 THE next morning a letter came for Anthony, 
 It was signed "Raleigh," and it enquired tersely 
 where he was keeping himself 
 
 "You answer it for him, won't you, Nurse 
 just tell him Anthony's been sick, and I've been 
 busy " 
 
 So Nurse Timberlake wrote a little note to 
 Lord Raleigh, saying that Mr. Wickham had 
 been ill, but was now recovering favourably; 
 he hoped to see Lord Raleigh before leaving 
 London. She signed it "Mary Wickham," 
 and, after a moment, "per A. T." and sealed 
 it, with a little smile on her lips. 
 
 His Lordship, when he received the note, 
 looked at the address and ordered his car and, 
 after one or two errands in the city, drew up in 
 
 Middle Temple Lane at the foot of the Plowden 
 
 193
 
 194 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 Buildings. At the third flight he paused for 
 breath, and arrived at the top a little spent. 
 
 Mother opened the door. She looked at him, 
 and put her hand to her head with some vague 
 idea of a best bonnet and held it out, smiling 
 from her round face. "You must be the 
 Lord," she said. 
 
 He smiled a little and took the hand, gal- 
 lantly. "How is Mr. Wickham?' 
 
 "Come right in," said Mother. She opened 
 the door wide, and he stepped in and stopped, 
 looking at a figure in nurse's cap and apron, that 
 stood by the window. 
 
 She came forward, smiling, and held out a 
 hand. "How are you, Cousin Thurlow*?" she 
 said. 
 
 "How de' do, Allie? Where'd you light 
 from?' 
 
 "I've been nursing Mr. Wickham." 
 
 "Good idea! you couldn't do better. How 
 is he 4 ?" 
 
 She ushered him into Anthony's room and left 
 them . . . little laughs came out of the half-
 
 A BONNET 195 
 
 open door, and scraps of talk, and long, mur- 
 muring words, and laughs again. She came and 
 stood in the door at last. 
 
 "Time for Mr. Wickham to rest," she an- 
 nounced. 
 
 His Lordship got to his feet "Well, I'm 
 driven out. Remember you're coming to my 
 place as soon as you can stir." He came out 
 into the sitting-room, smiling. "We'll make him 
 well at Thurlow. Best air in England. I'm 
 going up next week myself " he paused. 
 "How soon can he be moved'?" 
 
 "Ten days perhaps." 
 
 "That's right. You'll come, too, won't 
 you?" 
 
 "As a nurse*?" she took his hand, smiling. 
 
 "Anyway you like." He bowed himself over 
 the hand and over Mother's and was gone. 
 
 Mother blinked a little. "I don't feel as if I 
 could go," she said pathetically. "I'd rather 
 stay right here " 
 
 "Mr. Wickham can't go alone," said Nurse 
 Timberlake.
 
 196 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 "No You might go with him ?" 
 
 "I'm thinking of it," said Nurse. "I'd rather 
 like to go Thurlow is my old home," she added 
 after a little pause. 
 
 Mother beamed on her. "You know the 
 neighbourhood then, don't you 1 ?" 
 
 The nurse smiled. "Yes, I know the village. 
 I know the Castle too quite well." 
 
 Mother gave a little wail "He didn't tell 
 me it was a castle ! I can't go if it's a 
 castle!" 
 
 The nurse reassured her. "It's not so differ- 
 ent from any other house except, of course, that 
 it's old part of it dates back four hundred 
 years or so." 
 
 "I thought castles had towers and top-pieces 
 and moats, and things?" said Mother. 
 
 "Yes there are towers. But modern houses 
 have towers, you know." 
 
 "So they do," assented Mother. "I never 
 liked towers " she added after a moment. 
 "And the moats must be damp dreadful damp.
 
 A BONNET 197 
 
 I don't believe Anthony will like it Where do 
 you get your bonnets'?" 
 
 "My bonnets ?" the nurse started a little. 
 "Oh at Selfridge's." 
 
 "I'll see what I can do to-morrow," said 
 Mother.
 
 XXV 
 
 WALLACE SELECTS IT 
 
 WALLACE offered to go with her. Nurse Tim- 
 berlake could not leave Anthony, and Mother 
 must not be trusted alone among the pitfalls 
 and snares of Oxford Street. 
 
 So Wallace accompanied her. He escorted 
 her down aisles of gloves and veilings and cos- 
 metics and underwear, suits and coats and dra- 
 peries, and to the millinery department and a 
 smart young woman clerk. Mother retreated 
 into her shell; and Wallace and the ladylike 
 clerk decided between them what she should 
 wear. It seemed difficult, at first, among the 
 wheels of fashion, to find anything that would 
 do to halo a small, round, wrinkled face but, 
 at last, from the back of a bottom drawer, a little 
 straw structure was produced and placed on 
 Mother's head; the clerk stood back to survey it 
 with lifted eyebrows, one hand resting on her 
 
 198
 
 WALLACE SELECTS IT 199 
 
 hip. Wallace walked around it, and gave ad- 
 vice, and paid for it and took Mother away. 
 
 "Do you think it's fancy enough for a castle, 
 Wally*?" she asked as the lift descended slowly 
 to the ground. 
 
 "Quite fancy enough," said Wallace decidedly. 
 "You won't wear it all the time, you know " 
 He paused, looking at her. "You ought to have 
 a cap!" he said. 
 
 "Wallace !" She put a distressed hand to her 
 head. "I'm not old enough for a cap!" She 
 looked at him anxiously. "You don't mean I'm 
 old enough for a cap do you*?" 
 
 "Any age is old enough, now," said Wallace. 
 "Everybody wears 'em I think you'd be stun- 
 ning in a cap Come on, and try one on!" So 
 they descended to the cap department, and 
 Mother sat in front of a long mirror, and Wal- 
 lace fitted caps to the meek roundness of her face. 
 
 "There!" he stood back and looked at it. 
 "You couldn't be better! Look at yourself." 
 
 She took the hand mirror and turned her head 
 critically, surveying the little white affair, front
 
 200 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 and back. "It looks queer," she said. "But 
 it's becoming!" She beamed on him. 
 
 "Of course it is just the thing for you! 
 You'd better keep it." He gave the young 
 woman a coin and received the cap in a neat 
 box. 
 
 Mother's eye rested on it contentedly. "I 
 shall like it to wear in the Castle," she said. "It 
 doesn't seem just right, somehow, to wear your 
 own hair in a castle." 
 
 "That's what they used to think," said Wal- 
 lace. "I suppose that's why they got to wear- 
 ing wigs and headdresses and things to live up 
 to castles." 
 
 "I know how they felt," said Mother. 
 
 When they reached home, she donned the cap 
 at once. "I want to get used to it before we go 
 to the Castle," she said. "I have to wear my 
 things quite a spell before I get used to 'em. I 
 never feel as if they were my things the first 
 week or so." 
 
 There could be no doubt that the cap exercised 
 a subtle influence on Mother's thoughts. She
 
 WALLACE SELECTS IT 201 
 
 no longer protested against going with Anthony, 
 and Nurse Timberlake more than once suspected 
 her of little budding desires to display the cap 
 in lordly halls. 
 
 "Caps help you to keep up," explained 
 Mother. "You know you look good, no matter 
 how you feel inside!" 
 
 "It's the same with shoes," said Anthony 
 "sometimes when I've made a pair for a mean 
 man a real mean one I've thought I ought to 
 take extra pains with 'em so he could walk 
 better. ... I used to think sometimes it made 
 a difference with Jo' Haskell," he mused. 
 
 "It'd take more than one pair of shoes to make 
 a man of Jo' Haskell !" said Mother. "Maybe 
 it helped," she added kindly. The cap seemed 
 to have smoothed little asperities of judgment 
 much as it softened the lines of the wrinkled 
 face. 
 
 "I wish you was going Wally," she announced 
 the next day. 
 
 Wallace glanced across at the open door. 
 Nurse Timberlake was in the next room with An-
 
 202 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 thony. "I wish I were," he said softly. "It 
 will be mighty lonesome with all of you gone, 
 you know." 
 
 Mother looked at him pityingly. "Of course 
 it will be! I don't know why I didn't think of 
 it before. . . . I've 'most a good mind to stay 
 now " 
 
 "And waste your cap*?" said Wallace. 
 
 "Of course I'll have to go " said Mother 
 hastily "now I've said I would. But it don't 
 seem right leaving you alone." 
 
 "John will be along pretty soon," said Wal- 
 lace. "He'll take your rooms won't he*? So 
 I shall be running in here just the same." 
 
 Mother looked a little guilty. 
 
 "John's coming to the Castle," she said. 
 "The Lord asked him." 
 
 "He did!" said Wallace. "I thought John 
 had business to attend to, and by the time he'd 
 finished that, you would all be coming back." 
 
 "He's going to take a rest first," said Mother, 
 beaming. "It was my idea I told the nurse I 
 thought he ought to and she told the Lord,
 
 WALLACE SELECTS IT 203 
 
 and he asked him. It will be a real good chance 
 to visit." 
 
 "How long will Nurse Timberlake stay?" 
 asked Wallace.
 
 XXVI 
 
 THURLOW CASTLE 
 
 THERE were "towers and top-pieces and moats 
 and things" hundreds of little spirelike points 
 on the turrets and four great towers springing 
 from the ground. It was not a large castle, but 
 it had all the qualities of the old-time castle in- 
 side and out except that it was open to sunshine 
 and the world; little slits of windows, made for 
 sending arrows down upon an approaching foe, 
 had been deepened and broadened; and the sun 
 poured in, through four-foot thickness, into the 
 great rooms; outside, the moat had been drained 
 and wall-flowers and roses grew there, and for- 
 get-me-nots and arabis and feathery-plumed 
 asters reaching against the walls. 
 
 Mother walked around the moat twice a day 
 once with Anthony leaning on her stout arm, 
 and once with the Lord. She had become quite 
 
 well acquainted with Lord Raleigh; she gave 
 
 204
 
 THURLOW CASTLE 205 
 
 him advice about rheumatism and told him what 
 John did when he was a baby. The white cap 
 reached barely to his Lordship's shoulder, and 
 the stately head had to bend a little. 
 
 Anthony, looking down from his window, 
 smiled to see them; he could feel Mother's soul 
 standing tip-toe, and Lord Raleigh's reaching to 
 it, trying courteously to understand this brusque, 
 rushing little woman in her cap. Anthony un- 
 derstood and loved them both. . . . He had 
 been resting since he came, resting in the easy 
 chair in the window and in the canopied bed at 
 night but resting, most of all, in the Castle, its 
 thick walls and deep-freighted past. Roots 
 that all his life had lain too close to the surface, 
 struck deep in the subtle, invisible soil and nour- 
 ished him. Sometimes, lying in the great bed at 
 night, with the firelight flickering on the tapes- 
 tries on the wall, he wondered how life would 
 have looked if he had been born in the canopied 
 bed instead of in the little ten-by-twelve room 
 in the New England country parsonage. . . . 
 He could not fancy, somehow, that he should
 
 206 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 have felt very different. It would have been 
 the same Anthony Wickham, loving his friends, 
 shrinking if he saw a dog struck in the street 
 men are not different. It would have been 
 pleasant, lying, looking at the firelight on thick 
 walls, to know that one's ancestors had built 
 them and that the armour in the great hall be- 
 low had been theirs, and the pictures and tapes- 
 tries. . . . Anthony reached out a thin hand 
 and stroked the colours beside him. It would 
 have been pleasant to think that one's great- 
 great-great-grandmother had wrought that 
 monstrous tropical bird over there on the wall 
 and had fashioned the colours, so steadfast and 
 clear and soft and full of gentle thoughts. . . . 
 He had lain looking at them many nights, in the 
 firelight, watching by day from his chair by the 
 window the colours seemed to have become a 
 part of him. . . . He drifted into the past 
 far back where the colours shaped themselves and 
 grew under light, thin fingers. Hand-work 
 all the Castle from the turrets to the low- 
 groined arches in the lowest hall made be-
 
 THURLOW CASTLE 207 
 
 cause some one loved it. And suddenly Anthony 
 saw against the western sky of New York steel- 
 ribbed frames thrusting themselves up and 
 heard the clang of steel strike on steel build- 
 ing to the sky for a young gigantic race. The 
 hand stroking the tapestry seemed very worn 
 and thin. . . . But something was in it 
 of that other race across the sea the gods 
 that were building to their own downfall that 
 the greater ones may come children of men once 
 more. . . . And the streets of the city shall be 
 full of boys and girls, playing in the streets 
 thereof. . . . Anthony dozed in his chair in 
 the wide window and waked, and down below r 
 along the terrace-moat, the two figures walked 
 the little flying white cap, and the stately, cour- 
 teous figure bending to it. 
 
 As Anthony recovered strength he became con- 
 scious that something had happened to him out 
 of the roar of London streets or the thickness of 
 the castle walls or the cleansing touch of the 
 fever, something had come . . . thoughts that 
 on the shoemaker's bench had only moved before
 
 2o8 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 him vaguely, grew clear; lying in the great chair 
 out on the terrace, he watched them shape them- 
 selves his mind played with them and rose and 
 travelled a little out to the world ... he 
 watched the great clouds float over the castle 
 and the sunshine playing on vines that climbed 
 the trellises and on the little blue and white 
 flowers along the edge of the walks he floated 
 with the clouds and played, as the sunshine 
 played, upon the trellises and the blue and white 
 flowers. . . . But when he tried to put his 
 thoughts into words they would not always come 
 out of the clouds and the little flowers along 
 the edge of the path. 
 
 Mother watched him anxiously she waylaid 
 Lord Raleigh in the garden "I'm bothered 
 about Anthony!" 
 
 His Lordship stopped in the rose-path "I 
 thought he was doing very well *?" he said 
 gravely. 
 
 "He's doing all right," said Mother "but he 
 talks queer. ... I can't understand half the 
 time what he means !"
 
 THURLOW CASTLE 209 
 
 "That's what makes him interesting, isn't 
 it !" said Lord Raleigh. 
 
 "It doesn't interest me not to understand a 
 single word, hardly, sometimes. . . . He's 
 talking this morning about hippopotamuses and 
 flying machines." She looked at him sternly 
 over her glasses. 
 
 His Lordship laughed out. "I must go and 
 hear him," he said. 
 
 Mother stood looking after the stately back 
 the wrinkles in her face gathered themselves in 
 little knots and blinked. ... It was all very 
 well to be a Lord and laugh 
 
 His Lordship turned and saw her, and came 
 back. "You must not be anxious." He reached 
 out a hand to her. "I did not understand that 
 you were really worried " his tone was full of 
 sympathy even with the little laugh under- 
 neath it and Mother's eyes winked hard. 
 
 "I don't mind his being queer," she said. 
 "He's always been queer, more or less but he's 
 never been so happy about being queer, before. 
 It's kind of of idiotic!"
 
 210 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 She looked at him appealingly. 
 
 But he only laughed out again and patted her 
 hand. "Don't worry about your husband He 
 has more sense with half his wits than I have 
 with all mine!" 
 
 "Yes I know that!" said Mother. But she 
 said it only to the roses and the sun-dial sleeping 
 in the light. His Lordship was gone al- 
 ready, half-way down the path that led to the 
 terrace. 
 
 He found Anthony watching a little black- 
 and-red lady-bug crawling on his hand. An- 
 thony nodded to the hand "She's taking quite 
 a journey," he said "under her red wings!" 
 
 "Yes." The man sat down in the chair op- 
 posite and they watched the lady-bug take her 
 airing along the narrow, blue-veined path that 
 led to nowhere. When she came to the knuckle 
 she paused, sending out feelers, and waited a 
 minute, gathering herself, and lifted her wings 
 and flew away. . . . Anthony watched her. 
 . . . "I've been thinking about locomotion," 
 he said.
 
 THURLOW CASTLE 211 
 
 Lord Raleigh smiled "And flying machines, I 
 suppose?" 
 
 "Yes machines of every kind they've 
 bothered me a long time. ... I don't really 
 like them you know !" He looked at him with 
 the little whimsical smile that seemed a part of 
 his face like the nose, or the near-sighted 
 glasses. 
 
 "Of course you don't like machines nobody 
 likes them that has any sense " said the Lord. 
 
 "I'd like to think that," said Anthony. "I 
 used to believe it half-way when I was mak- 
 ing shoes. You see, I knew I could make a bet- 
 ter pair of shoes than a machine could make a 
 pair that would feel better wear better . . . 
 but this morning I see I'm wrong about it " 
 
 The other did not speak he only watched the 
 shoemaker with curious, half-amused, affection- 
 ate eyes. 
 
 "I got to thinking about it looking at your 
 castle and wondering why we can't make any- 
 thing like it now. . . . Yes I know we do 
 make houses bigger than your castle " An-
 
 212 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 thony's hand moved a little toward it and loved 
 it. 
 
 The Earl looked up at the house his ancestors 
 had built. . . . He would not have cared to 
 tell every one how he felt about his castle . . . 
 the very bones of his body were knit in it and 
 the thoughts of his heart "It's alive, you know." 
 He said the words softly half to himself. 
 
 Anthony nodded "That's what it said to me, 
 this morning. . . . It's eternal your castle. 
 Sometimes I've felt I'd made a pair of shoes 
 that were eternal one or two pair " 
 
 They sat silent the lady-bug had lighted on 
 a green leaf and crawled underneath and was 
 resting after her flight. . . . "That's the way 
 I came to see it," said Anthony. "I've been feel- 
 ing it all the time I've been here in the castle. 
 Somebody must have loved it up into the air 
 there " 
 
 They both looked up to the little spirelike 
 turrets . . . they sprang piercingly against the 
 blue sky. . . . "Somebody must have loved it," 
 said Anthony "and all the castles and the
 
 THURLOW CASTLE 213 
 
 cathedrals everywhere somebody loved 'em 
 till they grew that way!" 
 
 The Earl had shifted his position a little, and 
 was staring before him. 
 
 "They make kind of a body for the 
 Spirit," said Anthony, " all the cathedrals 
 and castles everywhere. I seem to see they're a 
 kind of body. And then I got to thinking about 
 its hippopotamus body. Mother wouldn't let 
 me tell her about that " He smiled a little. 
 "She went to call you about that time, I think*?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "I didn't make it very clear, I guess. ... I 
 was thinking how the Spirit must 'a' loved 'em 
 sometime the way it loved your castle loved 
 to feel 'em breathe and walk around and lie 
 down with their queer, leathery old necks. 
 It seems queer not to throw 'em away when 
 they're done with " 
 
 "I've thought about that a hundred times " 
 said the Earl. 
 
 Anthony nodded. "I knew you had thought 
 of it very likely; that's why it's easy to talk to
 
 214 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 you. Mother's never thought much about it, I 
 guess. I always used to be pegging away on it 
 wondering about it asking Samuel what he 
 thought " 
 
 "What did he say?' 
 
 Anthony's little smile crept about the words. 
 "He said they were hippopotamuses and that 
 was all there was to it. One day he got a lit- 
 tle pestered with me for keeping at it, and he 
 said they had just as good a right to be hippopot- 
 amuses as he and I had to be a shoemaker . . . 
 and that set me thinking. I thought a good 
 while on it. ... I see it clearer now Every- 
 thing that's living is just the Spirit, speaking 
 out, breathing-like. ... It has to make new 
 bodies all the while ships cathedrals men 
 and puppies and goats it can't find any shape 
 to suit exactly. It just says all it can in one 
 body and then it moves on ... but it doesn't 
 throw the old one away ... it keeps it kind 
 of a book, like for us to read. . . . And 
 that's the way I got to thinking about flying 
 machines and making shoes by machinery, in-
 
 THURLOW CASTLE 215 
 
 stead of good old hand-made ones. . . . The 
 Spirit is living in the machines now, I guess, 
 building a kind of body for itself not so solid 
 as the earth but it's alive all through saying 
 things all the time. ... I just seemed to hear 
 all the machines talking around the world . . . 
 there's something they are saying " He 
 leaned forward, "I must listen to it. . . ." 
 
 The Earl got up and walked away. He 
 came back slowly along the rose-path, under the 
 swaying, shimmering vines. He paused by An- 
 thony's chair and laid a hand, half -affection- 
 ately, on his shoulder. . . . "They're saying 
 we are done with the cathedrals and the castle 
 and me " He motioned toward the beautiful 
 silent towers and the little turrets. "We're 
 done with," he said softly 
 
 Anthony looked up to him and smiled a lit- 
 tle. . . . "Perhaps you're a kind of illumi- 
 nated books the hand-made kind you were 
 showing me yesterday, you know that the 
 Spirit has said things in. . . ."
 
 XXVII 
 
 JOHN ARRIVES 
 
 THE owner of Thurlow Castle might not object 
 to figuring as a fine old twentieth century missal ; 
 but he did not, as yet, feel called upon to admire 
 the machines that were to replace him and his 
 kind. . . . Machines were all very well in their 
 way; there were three cars in the garage, all of 
 the newest type the great touring car, a model 
 limousine and the convenient little runabout. 
 Lord Raleigh used them freely and they had 
 practically supplanted the stables. He believed 
 in using machines, and in keeping them in their 
 proper place. Possibly, at the back of his 
 mind, there was a little disturbing sense that he 
 might not always be able to keep them in what 
 
 he considered their proper place 
 
 How much of this was in his mind as he 
 greeted John Wickham, it would not be easy to 
 
 say. Mother and Nurse Timberlake had gone 
 
 216
 
 JOHN ARRIVES 217 
 
 to the station to meet him, and as the car swept 
 up the curve of the drive, the figure of a man 
 seated by Mother, on the back seat, was outlined 
 with sharp distinctness against the old trees. 
 The motionless figure seemed a part of the ma- 
 chine, strong, implacable and moving with 
 swift, on-rushing power. 
 
 Lord Raleigh and Anthony, sitting on the ter- 
 race, watched the car approach, and as it drew 
 up in front of the steps, the master of the castle 
 went forward to meet it. 
 
 John Wickham stepped out and the two men 
 stood looking at each other a minute over their 
 clasped hands; then they stepped apart and the 
 ocean swept in between. . . . For the first time 
 the Lord of Thurlow had encountered face to 
 face the force that would some day supplant him 
 and his kind. He felt it, vaguely, as he turned 
 away. They would be left he and his castle 
 beautiful old missals, for this younger man of 
 iron and steel to pore over in his leisure hours. 
 It flitted through his mind, half-humorously, 
 as he turned and led the way to the ter-
 
 218 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 race. But when the young man stooped to his 
 father and kissed him, the other had a sense of 
 something strong and tender something beauti- 
 ful, that he had missed. . . . The young 
 American was no longer a successful man of busi- 
 ness, half-defiant in his attitude toward the owner 
 of the castle; there was a kind of humbleness 
 about him and the Earl lingered a second before 
 he turned away down the rose-path and left 
 them. 
 
 Mother fussed at chairs, placing one for Nurse 
 Timberlake and one for John quite near by. 
 But the Nurse slipped away she must go and 
 look after Anthony's egg-nog, and presently 
 Mother went to take off her bonnet. 
 
 John had not seen the cap she would sur- 
 prise John! When she returned she stood 
 meekly with folded hands, waiting. He looked 
 up and jumped up and laughed. 
 
 "I say, Mother!" He turned her around, on 
 her pivot, and looked at her. "It's all right!" 
 he pronounced.
 
 JOHN ARRIVES 219 
 
 Mother smiled serenely. "Wally picked it 
 out," she said. 
 
 "I'm a little jealous of Wally, you know, re- 
 plied John. 
 
 "Everybody's jealous of Wally," said An- 
 thony from his chair. "Mother can't stir with- 
 out Wally " 
 
 "I came here without him," said Mother tri- 
 umphantly. 
 
 "But you would have liked him to come " 
 
 "Well he would have enjoyed it. ... 
 And he would have been company for me 
 when you and the Lord get to talking. They're 
 always talking!" she said with fine scorn. 
 
 "But you have Nurse Timberlake for com- 
 pany," said Anthony. 
 
 "Yes-s I have had her." 
 
 "You speak as if you never would again." 
 said John, laughing. 
 
 "I don't expect to see so much of her as I 
 have," said Mother discreetly. 
 
 Then Nurse appeared with the egg-nog and
 
 220 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 Mother took it from her "You can show 
 John around the place a little, before we have 
 tea," she said. 'Til feed Father this" 
 And her delighted eyes followed them as they 
 walked away. There was something of the 
 same quick decisiveness in the two figures. 
 
 "They look nice together, don't they 1 ?" said 
 Mother 
 
 Anthony smiled a little. "You take match- 
 making hard, Mother I shouldn't want you to 
 marry me off." 
 
 "You're married already to me!" said 
 Mother. "They won't need much helping " 
 she nodded toward the receding figures. Then 
 she looked again. "The Lord's with them!" 
 she said. "Here drink this. . . ." 
 
 Anthony took it, smiling. "He won't inter- 
 fere with your plans Mother He's a philoso- 
 pher." 
 
 "He don't like John !" said Mother promptly. 
 
 "How did you find that out 4 ?" 
 
 "I saw it the first thing when they shook 
 hands. They acted real foolish both of
 
 JOHN ARRIVES 221 
 
 them! . . . There! they're coming back! 
 Well it's just as well, they couldn't say much 
 with him around he always does the talk- 
 ing " 
 
 "Why, Mother!" 
 
 "Well what did he want to go walking off 
 in that direction for when he had the whole 
 grounds to walk in hundreds of acres of 
 ground !" 
 
 But when Lord Raleigh approached, with the 
 destined pair, Mother beamed upon him, and 
 upon them. She had the faith of a child that 
 things would come right the kind of faith that 
 sometimes makes them come right, in spite of 
 everything that hinders. 
 
 It did not need a great deal of faith to see, as 
 the days went by, that John and Nurse Timber- 
 lake were good friends. They had a hundred 
 likes and dislikes in common. "They don't 
 either of them eat tripe!" announced Mother 
 triumphantly. 
 
 "Are you going to marry them on not lik- 
 ing tripe*?" asked Anthony.
 
 222 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 "You can make all the fun you want to, An- 
 thony. You know it makes a difference." 
 
 "Yes it makes a difference," assented An- 
 thony. He could not quite bring himself to tell 
 Mother his little suspicion that not even the not 
 liking tripe would cause John and Nurse Tim- 
 berlake to fall hopelessly and irrevocably in love. 
 And who was he after all, to pretend to under- 
 stand the vagaries of love. ... It was far 
 more likely that Mother with her instincts was 
 right. 
 
 So Mother laid her little snares and watched 
 happily when the unsuspecting pair walked into 
 them; and turned her head circumspectly not to 
 see too much. 
 
 There were days when she regarded herself 
 sternly in the light of a wicked old matchmaker. 
 She had been a little troubled since she learned 
 that Nurse Timberlake was not a poor young 
 woman, depending on Anthony's frailties for 
 support. 
 
 The Nurse had told her one evening at dusk, 
 standing in the upper window, looking down on
 
 JOHN ARRIVES 223 
 
 the park. . . . "It is a dear, old place!" she 
 had said. "I get fonder of it every year, I 
 think." 
 
 "You've been here a good many times *?" said 
 Mother. 
 
 Nurse Timberlake turned to her and smiled a 
 little. "I was born here," she said. 
 
 "You were born here" said Mother. "I 
 thought you were a nurse !" 
 
 "A nurse has to be born, you know," she was 
 smiling again. "I think I rather like it going 
 about in cap and apron where I used to play 
 and do all sorts of things. . . . There were 
 only two of us sister and I. We played hide 
 and seek here in the hall after dark it was very 
 dark, I remember not all lighted up as Cousin 
 Thurlow has it now " She moved her hand 
 at the long, lighted corridor beyond. 
 
 "I am very fond of the place. ... I am 
 glad it will be mine, some day," she added 
 softly. 
 
 Mother stared a little bewildered. "Did 
 you say it was yours 1 ?" she said.
 
 224 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 "It will be I suppose, some day. Polly 
 likes the town house better. She will take that. 
 We are next of kin sister and I." 
 
 "It seems queer," said Mother, "for him to let 
 you go out nursing. But I suppose it's Eng- 
 lish *?" she sighed a little at the difficulty of 
 understanding. 
 
 "Yes it's English perhaps. But it's more 
 that we wanted to do it. When I went into 
 training, we thought Cousin Thurlow would 
 marry. . . ." 
 
 "You mean if he had married, you wouldn't 
 'a' had " Mother groped at it. 
 
 "Not the Castle certainly," said the girl. "A 
 small allowance, perhaps just enough to live 
 on. I wanted to be independent and so did 
 Polly. She does miniatures " 
 
 "Pictures'?" said Mother. 
 
 "Small ones yes portraits. She does beau- 
 tiful work." 
 
 "It's all topsy-turvy !" said Mother. "And it 
 doesn't seem right either you have a lot "
 
 JOHN ARRIVES 225 
 
 she swept her hand toward the dusky park "or 
 else you don't have anything at all !" 
 
 "That's it!" The nurse smiled on her. 
 
 "It's English," said Mother. 
 
 "Yes it's English." She spoke with a kind 
 of quiet pride and moved down the hall. 
 "Come, and see the ancestors," she said. "They 
 light up best at night." 
 
 And Mother followed the cap and apron down 
 the hall, groping at the topsy-turvydom that up- 
 set all her ideas. Suddenly she stopped "You 
 will be a Lady!" she said swiftly. 
 
 "What is it 7" Nurse turned back a little. 
 "Oh no the title lapses with Cousin Thurlow. 
 No, I shall be plain Miss Timberlake always." 
 
 "I don't believe you will !" said Mother 
 stoutly. 
 
 But in her heart she had a little, sinking sense 
 that Nurse Timberlake might be right. The 
 situation was English. She moved a little less 
 happily on her matchmaking path. . . . Her 
 son was good enough for any girl good enough
 
 226 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 even for Miss Alice Timberlake, of Thurlow; 
 but Miss Timberlake would be a rich woman 
 sometime, and Mother could not scheme for a 
 rich wife for John. 
 
 She had not the comfort of knowing that long 
 before Nurse Timberlake came into possession 
 of Thurlow Castle, her son might be able to buy 
 up the castle and all it contained two castles 
 three if it pleased him. Castles, old masters 
 and tapestries all to be swept into Johnnie's 
 capacious American apron if it pleased him. 
 But to Mother he was only her boy hardly able 
 to look after his socks and certainly not to be 
 trusted to pick out a wife. 
 
 She confided her troubles to Anthony or tried 
 to. "It all belongs to her, Anthony !" she said, 
 "to Nurse Timberlake " 
 
 "What belongs *?" asked Anthony. He was 
 lying back in his chair, looking up at the top of 
 the Castle and the great trees beyond it. "What 
 is it you say belongs to Nurse Timberlake?" 
 he said. 
 
 "All of this everything!" Mother waved
 
 JOHN ARRIVES 227 
 
 her hand "the castle and the grounds she 
 owns everything really." 
 
 "So do I," said Anthony dreamily. 
 
 Mother looked at him anxiously. She hoped 
 it wasn't going to be one of Anthony's queer 
 mornings she needed some one to confide in 
 and there was no one like Anthony if only he 
 would be sensible. 
 
 "What I mean is " said Mother, "she told 
 me last night she will own everything here 
 when the Lord dies. . . . You understand me, 
 Anthony?' 
 
 "Yes, I understand, Mother. ... I own it 
 now in essence myself. It is a wonderful old 
 place to own!" 
 
 So Mother gave it up. Fate must do what it 
 could. She settled down to her work. John 
 and Nurse Timberlake had gone for a walk. A 
 great many things could happen in a walk. It 
 was when she and Anthony went for a walk that 
 he had spoken. . . . She could remember how 
 blue the sky was, with the great white clouds 
 sailing over there had been a rain the night be-
 
 228 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 fore, and everything smelled sweet! "Do you 
 remember, Anthony, the walk we took up by Dol- 
 man's Hill?" 
 
 "Yes I remember," said Anthony, "what 
 about it?" 
 
 "Nothing," said Mother softly, "I only won- 
 dered if you remembered " 
 
 Anthony looked at her and smiled just as 
 he had smiled that day. 
 
 And John came out to them on the terrace 
 and said he must get back to town to-morrow. 
 Business had come up that he must be there to 
 look after.
 
 XXVIII 
 
 ANTHONY'S THOUGHTS 
 
 THE shoemaker and the Earl were in the garden 
 together. John had gone back to town. 
 Mother and Nurse Timberlake were engaged in 
 some mysterious rite of dressmaking; they had 
 become invisible to mere man. 
 
 Anthony had been in the garden all the morn- 
 ing, walking about a little, reading and think- 
 ing. Lord Raleigh had returned from his 
 drive around the estate and had come straight 
 to the terrace; they had sat ever since talking, 
 watching the clouds and the rooks overhead and 
 the great rooks' nests in the trees The little 
 shadows shifted themselves silently on the grass 
 and the gravel walk and swayed hurriedly when 
 the wind blew the branches about. . . . They 
 had been talking of a dozen things turning 
 them slowly about and they sat silent in the 
 
 little wind that came across the garden it 
 
 229
 
 230 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 shook soft scents from the flowers and scattered 
 them. Over against the low yew hedge, a sin- 
 gle pair of tulips held their little, yellow, shin- 
 ing globes against the dark green of the yew. 
 "That is a stray," said the Earl. He looked at 
 the quaint stiffness of the hedge and the yellow 
 flower growing against it. ... "It is far more 
 beautiful than anything that Hodges planted " 
 he said, "it seems to belong there, by the hedge, 
 growing that way, doesn't it?" 
 
 Anthony's eyes rested on it. "I think they 
 found each other out," he said. 
 
 "You do?" The Earl laughed quietly. 
 "The hedge said to the tulip, I suppose, 'Come 
 over here, Miss Flower, I shall be very becoming 
 to you!' ... Or perhaps you think the tulip 
 moved the hedge a rod or two ?" 
 
 Anthony smiled. . . . "You say it because 
 you think it is ridiculous," he said quietly. 
 
 "I did the best for them I could said the best 
 thing I could," assented the Earl. 
 
 "I think it may be true," said the shoemaker. 
 
 The other's quizzical smile rested on him.
 
 ANTHONY'S THOUGHTS 231 
 
 "And perhaps you think you called mt. on 
 Blackfriars Bridge!" 
 
 "Something like that," said Anthony. "The 
 right flowers grow together, if we let them, 
 and trees and bushes they don't make mistakes, 
 do they " 
 
 "There is a kind of choice " said the Earl 
 thoughtfully. "But you're not going to make 
 me believe that the whole universe goes on 
 screaming out and calling tumbling over itself, 
 to get to the right place like the taxis in the 
 Strand." 
 
 "No not exactly " said Anthony smil- 
 ing, "but I was reading while you were away 
 this morning " He touched the book on the 
 chair beside him. "I was reading how every- 
 thing solid every bit of marble and flesh and 
 bone and rock is all whirling round inside; 
 and the harder it seems to be the faster it 
 whirls." 
 
 "Yes I know. . . . They used to say it 
 took faith to believe in religion. Nowadays it 
 takes more faith to believe the scientists !"
 
 232 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 He looked at Anthony with the little twinkling 
 smile. "You believe that, I suppose about the 
 things whirling around inside?" 
 
 "Yes don't you?" 
 
 "Yes. . . . What I want to know is 
 where it's all whirling to?" 
 
 "You'll be there to see," said Anthony 
 quietly. 
 
 "You think so?" The Earl turned and 
 stared across at the tulips. "You think so?" 
 he said slowly. "It doesn't seem quite likely, 
 you know." 
 
 "No but it's true." 
 
 "You've had a message, I suppose special 
 wireless !" 
 
 Anthony ignored the little gentle irony of the 
 words. "I've seen it yes. ... I remembered 
 this morning a yellow rose-bush that used to 
 grow in the door-yard at home when I was a boy. 
 I hadn't thought of it for years. I didn't know 
 I remembered it but all of a sudden I saw it, 
 clear as light and smelled the roses and saw 
 myself standing by it, with my mother " He
 
 ANTHONY'S THOUGHTS 233 
 
 sat looking before him as if he saw it still in a 
 kind of dream. 
 
 The other stirred a little. "It's pretty but 
 it doesn't prove anything. . . . You smelled 
 the roses over there " His hand moved to- 
 ward the rose-path. "You think of a yellow 
 rose and of your Mother and you tell me I'm 
 immortal. ... I don't even know that I want 
 to be," he added thoughtfully. "I've had my 
 life " 
 
 "That's what I thought about the yellow- 
 rose," said Anthony. "It died long ago. But 
 it was alive this morning in me; and I am 
 alive in Someone. He won't forget a thou- 
 sand years He will remember, I think." 
 
 The Earl looked at him, at the gentle, thought- 
 ful face and thin hands. He got up and walked 
 away a little, and came back. "It doesn't prove 
 anything," he said. 
 
 "Doesn't it?' Anthony smiled. "Things 
 don't have to be proved if you see them." 
 
 The other had seated himself. "So you think 
 you will live as an experience of the great
 
 234 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 Soul, you will live forever that's fixed. . . . 
 And it just goes on and on more men, more 
 roses, more experience world without end. 
 I don't see it getting anywhere Evo- 
 lution yes. ... It stopped at men You'll 
 never get anything beyond men on this earth. 
 I'm not interested in Mars. Evolution on this 
 earth is done with." 
 
 "You got a wireless, I suppose, when it 
 stopped*?" said Anthony quietly. 
 
 The other looked at him and smiled. "I 
 haven't seen any great change not since I was 
 a boy. We're just about the same as the 
 Pharaohs were grim old kings of dust just 
 about the same." 
 
 "They didn't whirl around inside," said An- 
 thony "the Pharaohs didn't." 
 
 "Don't you think so*? modern touch, per- 
 haps whirling inside and out " He stared 
 a minute and stopped. "There may be some- 
 thing in it," he said softly. . . . "But you 
 won't get beyond Men !" 
 
 "Perhaps we don't need to," said Anthony.
 
 ANTHONY'S THOUGHTS 235 
 
 "Suppose men get beyond themselves Do 
 things they didn't know they could." 
 
 The other was looking at him. "Such as 
 flying?" he asked. 
 
 Anthony shook his head. "They've done 
 that. It isn't so very different from motoring 
 only in the air, instead of on the ground. 
 It is something different I mean " 
 
 "Something nobody has thought of yet*?" sug- 
 gested Lord Raleigh with his little quizzical 
 smile. 
 
 "Yes. . . . Something like this" The 
 shoemaker leaned forward, speaking as if the 
 things he spoke went whirling before him. . . . 
 "It's as if we had a great Power in us that no 
 one has touched. We don't know of it any 
 more than we knew that solid things were whirl- 
 ing all about but some day some one will find 
 it lay his hand on it and there will be men 
 who can do what they will walk upon the 
 water, ride upon the wind. . . . You will see 
 you will not need a flying machine when you 
 can get your hand on that Power. . . ." The
 
 236 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 shoemaker's thin hand came together suddenly 
 in tight grip he blinked a little and laughed 
 softly. ... "I must have been talking great 
 nonsense," he said. 
 
 "Pretty bad," said the other. He was look- 
 ing across at him with keen, quiet eyes that shone 
 a little. "Pretty bad you're partly froth and 
 partly grit, Anthony." 
 
 "I'm glad Mother didn't hear it," said An- 
 thony. "It bothers Mother to hear me talk- 
 ing nonsense, like that!"
 
 XXIX 
 
 MOTHER'S OPINIONS 
 
 "Doss it set all right in the back?" asked 
 Mother anxiously. 
 
 She stood in front of the long mirror in the 
 dressing-room, craning her neck a little to get a 
 good view of the plump back. Nurse Timber- 
 lake, on a chair beside her, turned her slowly 
 about, looking at her critically and adjusting 
 folds. The maid on the floor, with a mouthful 
 of pins, pinned skilfully and moved along on her 
 knees, looking up now and then at the result and 
 pinning on. 
 
 Nurse Timberlake nodded approval. "It's 
 going to look just right!" she said. 
 
 Mother drew a sigh of relief. "I've always 
 wanted a one-piece dress ever since they came 
 in. The dressmaker at home said I didn't have 
 the figure for it." 
 
 ".Your figure's all right," said Nurse Timber- 
 237
 
 238 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 lake. "Pin it up a little higher on this side, 
 Amelia. Yes, there that's it," she put her 
 head back and surveyed it. 
 
 "I've always worn a basque," said Mother 
 she was still craning a little. 
 
 Nurse Timberlake made no reply. It was 
 Mother's "basque" that had precipitated the pins 
 and folds Mother's basque was a short gar- 
 ment very wide in the shoulders, tight in the 
 waist, and having lines that tried the figure. 
 
 Mother looked again at her back in the mir- 
 ror, and smoothed the front a little. "It's going 
 to look real good, I guess I wish Wally could 
 see it!" 
 
 "He will see it won't he when we go 
 back *?" The nurse spoke absently; she was 
 still shifting the folds a little "Put a pin here, 
 Amelia. Yes that's better. . . . See how 
 you like that, Mrs. Wickham " 
 
 Mother walked slowly back and forth in front 
 of the mirror and looked at herself; the maid, 
 on her knees, wore an air of distrustful approval 
 and Nurse Timberlake studied the effect "A
 
 MOTHER'S OPINIONS 239 
 
 little more on this side, Amelia don't you think 
 so yes." 
 
 The maid bent again to her pins. She had 
 been assigned to Mother the day they arrived, 
 but this was the first thing she had been allowed 
 to do. Mother had stoutly resisted all offers to 
 unpack trunks, or lay out her clothes for dinner 
 or help her dress. "I'm used to doing for my- 
 self," she said. "It bothers me to have anybody 
 around." So the maid had withdrawn in re- 
 spectful, disapproving silence. 
 
 It was Nurse Timberlake's idea, that she 
 could be utilised for dressmaking. "Why not 
 let her make you a new frock 1 ?" she had said. 
 "She is really very good at that sort of thing. 
 You could send into town for some stuff." 
 
 "I've got three dresses now besides my every- 
 day one," said Mother. "I don't know what I 
 should do with any more " 
 
 "She might alter these a little then," said 
 Nurse Timberlake. "Fashions change so, you 
 know " 
 
 "Sleeves'?" asked Mother anxiously.
 
 240 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 "Yes and backs." 
 
 "Well I don't mind her trying. You don't 
 think she would spoil them?" 
 
 "She's very good," said Nurse discreetly. 
 "Just let her try one." 
 
 So Mother stood obediently in front of the 
 mirror, and turned when she was told to, and 
 walked off a little way, and came back, and stood 
 "a little more to the right" and the maid and 
 Nurse Timberlake evolved the work of art. 
 
 Somewhere in the course of events a bolt of 
 soft, black, lacy stuff had made its appearance. 
 "Some that I had before I went into training," 
 said Nurse. "I shouldn't ever wear it now. 
 We need something of the sort for these lines 
 here." She threw a fold of it over Mother's 
 shoulder and draped it at the back. 
 
 "Just what it needed," said Amelia on her 
 knees, pinning swiftly and looking up. 
 
 "It makes a difference, doesn't it here take 
 the rest of it that way yes that's right!" 
 
 The two artists stood back to survey the re- 
 sult.
 
 MOTHER'S OPINIONS 241 
 
 "You don't think it makes me look too 
 squatty, do you?" said Mother. 
 
 "Not a bit. Here put on your cap there 
 now look at yourself!" 
 
 Mother looked and smiled, in soft, little 
 wrinkles, and turned herself. "I do wish Wal- 
 lace could see it," she said. "Wallace has good 
 taste." 
 
 Nurse Timberlake smiled a little. "He wears 
 aesthetic socks," she admitted. 
 
 "They're always the same colour as his neck- 
 ties did you ever notice?" 
 
 "Yes I've noticed. . . . You might take 
 that out now, Amelia, and hem the edge." 
 
 Amelia gathered up a lacy wing and departed. 
 
 Mother stood in front of the mirror, still turn- 
 ing; but she was not looking at herself her face 
 had grown thoughtful. "I don't know as I 
 think Wally has any better taste than John 
 has " she said slowly. 
 
 Nurse Timberlake's face wrinkled a little. 
 "Your son does not care about his clothes not 
 as Mr. Tilton does."
 
 242 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 "That's it," said Mother. "I was trying to 
 think how it was John never did care . . . 
 even as a little boy he didn't seem to care about 
 such things and I had to make him wash his 
 face and hands." 
 
 Nurse Timberlake's smile laughed out. "I 
 don't doubt it!" She nodded to the gown 
 "You might take it off now, and we'll give it to 
 Amelia to work en." 
 
 "I can hem this piece myself," said Mother, 
 gathering up a soft bit. 
 
 "Yes well if you like . . . she's glad to 
 have it to do for you, you know." 
 
 "I like to do it," said Mother. "I feel better 
 to have something going through my hands. 
 I feel foolish just to sit down with 'em 
 folded." 
 
 "I thought we would go out on the terrace. 
 Cousin Thurlow asked me to read " 
 
 "I shall take it out there," said Mother. "I 
 can listen and sew, too." 
 
 But when they reached the terrace the chairs 
 under the tree were pushed about and empty.
 
 MOTHER'S OPINIONS 243 
 
 In the distance through the trees two figures 
 paced slowly. 
 
 "They'll be back soon," said Nurse, "we'll 
 wait " 
 
 They sat under the big tree, the morning light 
 about them falling on the garden and terrace 
 and on the table littered with books and papers 
 and the half-scattered pouch of tobacco and short 
 briar-wood pipe. The nurse tidied the table a 
 little. 
 
 Mother watched her a minute. Then she un- 
 folded her work. "John likes pretty things, 
 though " she continued. "He likes them on 
 other people. He'll know if it looks good " 
 she held up her work and looked at it. 
 
 Nurse Timberlake sat down, leaning forward 
 a little, her hands swinging loosely like a young 
 boy. Her face had a fresh, quizzical look. "I 
 can tell you who has better taste even than 
 John." 
 
 "Who is it*?" said Mother looking up 
 startled. 
 
 "Mr. Wickham."
 
 244 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 "Anthony!" Mother let fall her work and 
 gazed in the distance where the two figures paced 
 behind the leafy -branching trees. . . . "An- 
 thony doesn't know, half the time, what folks 
 have on," she said. "Or, anyway, he never says 
 anything " 
 
 "I'd rather know what he thinks about things 
 most things than almost any one I know " 
 said Nurse. 
 
 Mother pricked her needle idly through her 
 dress. "We've never depended much on An- 
 thony, not for anything real sensible," she said. 
 
 Nurse smiled. "You'd call clothes sensible 
 how they look wouldn't you*?" 
 
 "Oh, yes " said Mother. "That takes sense 
 of course." 
 
 "He could tell you," said Nurse, " if he 
 looked. He doesn't always look. He's think- 
 ing about other things." 
 
 "He's dreadful absent-minded!" assented 
 Mother. 
 
 "I've heard him and Cousin Thurlow talking 
 about the Castle and he said things about it
 
 MOTHER'S OPINIONS 245 
 
 that modern critics are just beginning to find out 
 which parts are good and which are bad he 
 seems to know by instinct and he'd never seen a 
 castle before. Cousin Thurlow says it's because 
 he looks at things just the way a child would 
 and doesn't pretend." 
 
 "I've always said he was just like a child," 
 said Mother. "He's a dreadful trial that way 
 sometimes he doesn't seem to use good judg- 
 ment!" 
 
 "I am afraid he doesn't." The nurse 
 laughed softly. "You know people are begin- 
 ning to say now that good judgment isn't worth 
 very much 4 ?" 
 
 Mother looked at her she settled her glasses 
 firmly on her nose. "I don't know what I'd do 
 without it. How are you going to judge a 
 thing if you don't have judgment*?" she asked 
 severely. She looked over her glasses. 
 
 "Don't be cross about it!" said Nurse Timber- 
 lake, laughing. "I didn't invent it I don't 
 even pretend to understand it altogether. But 
 if I could get as near right as Mr. Wickham does,
 
 246 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 I wouldn't care whether my judgment was good 
 or bad I'd trust my instinct." 
 
 Mother said nothing. England was queer. 
 London was queer. Anthony was queer. . . . 
 But now, it seemed his queerness was all right. 
 It was a topsy-turvy world, everything in it was 
 queer. . . . She sewed on, drawing little fine 
 black stitches through the lacy stuff, her mouth 
 set tight. 
 
 When Anthony came up, she looked at him 
 as if she had never seen him before. It was 
 the same quaint Anthony, with half-drooping 
 shoulders and the little white lock rising from 
 his forehead the same Anthony she had always 
 loved and taken care of and felt superior to. 
 She looked down at his feet, "Did you put on 
 your thicker socks *?" 
 
 "Did I?" He looked down, a little guiltily. 
 His face lighted "I did put them on didn't 
 I? I thought perhaps I'd forgot." 
 
 Mother looked again "You've got on one 
 thick one and one thin one," she said.
 
 MOTHER'S OPINIONS 247 
 
 "So I have!" Anthony looked at them he 
 smiled, "I'd better go change 'em." 
 
 "It will do if you change one " said Mother 
 drily. Presently she looked up. "You saw 
 what he'd done 4 ?" 
 
 "Yes," Nurse Timberlake was smiling. 
 
 "Used his instinct to put on his socks with!" 
 said Mother. "I think a little judgment 
 wouldn't 'a' hurt enough to put on socks with."
 
 XXX 
 
 THE RETURN TO THE TEMPLE 
 
 MOTHER, in soft, lacy, wing-like garments, 
 ceased to walk solidly on both feet, and floated 
 plumply about the castle. Sometimes Lord 
 Raleigh, seeing her, smiled a little to himself at 
 the picture a gentle, courtly smile. There was 
 something in Mother that kept him amused. He 
 could not talk with her as he talked with An- 
 thony ; but her downrightness interested and kept 
 him wondering a little. Through Mother he 
 was studying a new type the American woman 
 before the culture-bacillus took possession of her. 
 She beamed on him narrow, keen, generous 
 perhaps the most essentially feminine woman in 
 the world; beside her the English women whom 
 he knew seemed fairly masculine they walked 
 with long, swinging step, free from the hip, and 
 their processes were almost as free and direct as 
 
 the stride. It was not difficult to follow them 
 
 248
 
 RETURN TO THE TEMPLE 249 
 
 one noted the direction and swung into pace with 
 them and arrived, in due time, at the goal not 
 always in agreement with them but always able 
 to understand and answer back. If English 
 women chose to smash windows up and down 
 Regent Street in the holy cause of votes for 
 women, the average Englishman might protest 
 and grumble, but he understood; he could re- 
 tort by breaking into rooms and ragging them 
 thoroughly throwing furniture about, empty- 
 ing bureau drawers and wardrobes and strewing 
 the contents about the room; he knew how the 
 suffragette would feel when she entered and be- 
 held the wreckage; and she knew that he knew 
 that she knew. It was all a great family party 
 with exchange of amenities. You knew 
 where to find a woman in England. She 
 might differ with you, she might oppose you 
 or flirt with you; but she was a comprehensible 
 being. 
 
 Not so Mother. She marched with you on the 
 path of logic looking up at you with puzzled, 
 meek eyes, ready at any time to be convinced by
 
 250 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 superior remarks; and then suddenly, with a 
 little bewildered flourish, she had left you 
 standing with your feet planted firmly on 
 facts, gazing after her as she floated up; she cir- 
 cled like an air-ship a balloon above your 
 astonished head, and took flight, coming down 
 in some new place quite an illogical place, 
 perhaps, but the more you blinked and looked 
 in exactly the spot she meant! Anthony had 
 lived with her forty years. 
 
 It might be, Lord Raleigh fancied, that An- 
 thony's mind had gained something from its 
 forty years experience of this round, flitting 
 surety of flight. Mother, he could surmise, had 
 not altered by a hair's breadth. But no mere 
 masculine mind could stand untouched by 
 Mother's flights. Perhaps the American man 
 with his keen, intuitive business sense 
 owed more than he guessed, to small round 
 women in bonnets coming down in unexpected 
 places. One cannot stand forever, staring, be- 
 wildered he would essay little flights of his
 
 RETURN TO THE TEMPLE 251 
 
 own, and discover, after the first gasping breath, 
 that it "worked." 
 
 Something like this flitted through his Lord- 
 ship's mind as he watched Mother or walked 
 with her on the terrace. She told him her be- 
 wilderments and laid difficulties before him. 
 She consulted him about Anthony, and asked ad- 
 vice, and looked up to him meekly but always 
 with the little impending sense of flight, that 
 kept things moving on. Sometimes Nurse Tim- 
 berlake, watching them together, smiled they 
 were two types that might not have met for a 
 thousand years, that could never have met per- 
 haps except by Anthony Wickham gently un- 
 derstanding them both. 
 
 About Anthony she had no doubts. If there 
 were another Anthony Wickham in the world 
 young or old she would marry him to-mor- 
 row! But there were no men like Anthony 
 they were all old and grown-up even the young 
 men were old . . . no, she should never marry 
 probably not.
 
 252 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 They were going back to town next week. 
 Anthony was recovered. The castle would be 
 full of other guests some of them coming be- 
 fore they left and Mother was anxious to get 
 back to "John." . . . Nurse Timberlake, walk- 
 ing in the garden, picked a rose, as she thought 
 of Mother and her John, and smiled at it. ... 
 They would travel up to London together; and 
 she would leave them and go back to her ragged 
 children. It had been a long vacation first in 
 the Temple and then here at Thurlow. She 
 was devoted to every stone of the old place; she 
 looked up at the little pointed turrets, and loved 
 them. . . . She was free to come back any 
 time she knew that Cousin Thurlow would 
 give her welcome but she must go back to work. 
 She had been resting too long one could not 
 call taking care of Anthony Wickham work. 
 She wondered what Tony Wasson was doing 
 she must try to get the children off for a holi- 
 day. Perhaps Cousin Thurlow could tell her 
 of some one on the estate who could take 
 them. . . . She walked with bent head, think-
 
 RETURN TO THE TEMPLE 253 
 
 ing of her children Tony Wasson's children 
 the rose in her fingers swinging a little, as she 
 walked, and her long, free skirts swishing against 
 the arabis in the borders and waking sweet 
 scents. 
 
 John met them at the station looking after 
 Anthony with quiet care and placing Mother in 
 the taxi beside him, before he turned to insist 
 that Nurse Timberlake should drive with 
 them. . . . 
 
 "If you cannot stay at the Temple, I'll take 
 you on to your place later." 
 
 But she was firm. "I must get back to my 
 people," she said. She motioned to a taxi and 
 it turned toward the curb. "Good-bye I shall 
 come to see you yes. Take good care of him." 
 She nodded and was gone. 
 
 John replaced his hat and got into the cab 
 
 "You can go see her to-morrow," said 
 Mother. 
 
 He stared at her a little, and smiled. "I 
 can get along a day or two, I think." He was
 
 254 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 laughing now. "It's pretty good to get you and 
 
 Father back How is he?" he had turned to 
 
 him. 
 
 "I'm well quite well again " He was 
 leaning forward a little, looking at the pushing, 
 hurrying mass surging on either side of the 
 taxi. . . . 
 
 Mother's glance followed it "It seems kind 
 o' good to get back " she said, with a little 
 gesture of surprise. 
 
 He turned and smiled at her. "You like it 
 as well as I do, Mother !" 
 
 "I hope not," she said sternly. 
 
 But she bent forward again and looked 
 "There is something . . . !" 
 
 "There certainly is," laughed John. "I've 
 been here three weeks now, and I'm just about 
 as drunk with it as I was the first day I 
 came " 
 
 "John Wickham!" 
 
 "Figuratively drunk, Mother! You seem to 
 forget I've had Wallace." 
 
 "How is Wally 4 ?" asked Mother quickly.
 
 RETURN TO THE TEMPLE 255 
 
 "Fine!" said John. He and Anthony ex- 
 changed a look. "He's gained ten pounds, I'll 
 warrant, since you've been gone " 
 
 "It wouldn't do for Wally to get too fat!" 
 said Mother thoughtfully. "I've got three^new 
 dresses " 
 
 "Indeed !" said John he looked down at her 
 mockingly, and Anthony, watching them with 
 quiet eyes, smiled at the little play between them. 
 
 They would have a real vacation now and 
 see something of the boy. It was years si: ce 
 they had really seen him. Even in college, there 
 had always been work planned for vacations 
 first chain-carrying and later more responsible 
 work. The boy had always done his share he 
 had worked hard and made his way. . . . 
 Wallace had told them more than they had 
 known before how the Management trusted 
 him. To Anthony, Wallace had confided that 
 John would some day be a rich man. "They 
 don't stop when once they begin with a man 
 like John," Wallace had said. "It's the top or 
 nothing!"
 
 256 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 "He'll have enough to take care of Mother 
 then if anything should happen to me," said 
 Anthony, "I wouldn't want Mother worried." 
 
 Wallace laughed a little and he laid his 
 hand affectionately on Anthony's arm. "If 
 anything should happen to you, Mr. Wickham, 
 John could buy up your shoeshop and the 
 whole town of Bolton twice over! . . . You 
 don't quite understand what it means to be 
 in with the Steel Trust." 
 
 "I don't suppose I do," said Anthony. "I 
 only didn't want Mother worried."
 
 XXXI 
 
 A CALL ON NURSE TIMBERLAKE 
 
 WALLACE'S fingers drummed a little on the arm 
 of his chair. "I haven't seen much of John 
 since you came back," he said thoughtfully. 
 
 "You have kind o' missed each other," said 
 Mother. 
 
 "I've been here every day," remarked Wal- 
 lace. 
 
 "So you have," said Mother. " Have an- 
 other piece of pie, Wally; you've only had one 
 piece " 
 
 So Wally took his pie and his face lighted 
 a little; he chewed it slowly and thoughtfully. 
 
 "John's a good deal interested in something 
 Nurse Timberlake's getting up," said Mother, 
 " kind of a show for the children." 
 
 "Where is it going to be*?" asked Wallace. 
 
 "Down there somewheres where she lives 
 John knows." 
 
 257
 
 258 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 Wallace glanced up. "Are you going to it*?" 
 
 "Yes we thought we'd all go. You can go 
 along with us if you want to," she said gra- 
 ciously. 
 
 "I'll think about it," said Wallace. "Put on 
 your bonnet and let's go for a walk." 
 
 Mother looked a little guilty. "I ought to do 
 my dishes first ?" 
 
 "Do them when you get back," said Wallace. 
 "The sun won't last much longer." 
 
 Mother looked again at her dishes "Where 
 were you thinking of going?" she asked slowly. 
 
 "Oh, anywhere Green Park, Hyde Park; 
 just for a stroll, you know come on!" 
 
 Mother's face grew more guilty. "I kind o' 
 hoped you wouldn't want to go to the Parks 
 not to-day," she said. 
 
 "Why not ? Don't we always go to the 
 Parks'?" asked Wallace. He looked at her a lit- 
 tle puzzled. 
 
 ''That's what I meant !" said Mother. 
 
 "What you mearit *?" 
 
 She nodded quickly. "I don't suppose you'll
 
 A CALL 259 
 
 understand how it is, Wally. But it seems to 
 me, if I see another one of those green chairs, or 
 flower-beds, or pieces of water with ducks on 
 'em, I shall go crazy!" said Mother. 
 
 He looked at her in astonishment. "I 
 thought you liked it!" he said. 
 
 "Well I did like it just for a time or two. 
 But now that I've kept on seeing it and see- 
 ing it I'm It gets on my nerves I guess !" 
 
 She laughed a little and righted her glasses 
 and looked at him. 
 
 He returned the look "I never dreamed you 
 felt that way about the Parks!" he said. 
 
 Mother's look of guilt deepened. "I know 
 I hadn't ought to, Wally. ... I can see folks 
 like 'em like to go there other folks. I can 
 see people walking up and down, liking it. 
 They don't look happy exactly, but I can see 
 they think they're enjoying it the way they sit 
 in the chairs and walk on the walks and drive 
 round. . . . Why, nights after I get to bed, I 
 shut my eyes and see 'em, Wally driving and 
 sitting and those miles of green chairs They
 
 260 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 just go round and round. ... I guess I'm not 
 a round-and-round sort of person,'* she said 
 meekly. 
 
 Wallace laughed out. "Have it your own 
 way, Mother. I won't make you sit in a green 
 chair if you don't want to." 
 
 Mother's face cleared. "Then I can do my 
 dishes," she said. She began to tie on her 
 apron. 
 
 Wallace looked at her sternly. "You're try- 
 ing to get out of taking exercise. You take that 
 right off and put on your bonnet; we'll go 
 somewhere somewhere else where there aren't 
 any green chairs." 
 
 Mother obeyed, beaming. . . . Anthony and 
 John always let her do exactly as she pleased. 
 Wallace seldom let her have her own way, and 
 when he did he made her pay for it. 
 
 She tied on her bonnet with thoughtful fin- 
 gers and smoothed her hair. "You hadn't 
 thought where we'd go had you*?" 
 
 "I think we'll go and call on Miss Timber- 
 lake," said Wallace.
 
 A CALL 261 
 
 "That's a good idea, Wally!" said Mother. 
 "Perhaps we'll find John!" 
 
 "Perhaps," said Wallace briefly. 
 
 But when they had climbed the stairs to Nurse 
 Timber-lake's little apartment, they found her 
 alone and another cup and plate across the table 
 from her. 
 
 She sprang up to welcome them. "Come 
 right in I'll make fresh tea " 
 
 "We've had tea," said Mother, " and 
 Wally's had his pie two pieces." 
 
 Nurse Timberlake laughed out, "He ought to 
 be in good humour then sit down." 
 
 "We thought maybe we'd find John here," 
 said Mother. 
 
 A quick flush had come into Nurse Timber 
 lake's face Wallace's eye happened to rest on 
 it. 
 
 "He said he was coming," said Mother. 
 
 "He's been here yes. But he had to go 
 in a minute." The nurse busied herself with 
 the tea-things, pushing back the table and right- 
 ing the room.
 
 262 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 Wallace's eyes studied the rug. 
 
 "Wally wanted to come," said Mother, "and 
 we thought we'd do it instead of the Parks. 
 We've got a little tired of the Parks there's 
 so much grass in parks " 
 
 Nurse Timberlake's face looked at her, smil- 
 ing. "You didn't feel that way at Thurlow 
 about the garden, did you, and the grounds?" 
 
 "Castles are different from parks all those 
 people walking around," said Mother. "I 
 can't explain how it is if you don't feel it that 
 way " 
 
 Wallace looked at her. "You're getting to be 
 a snob, Mother," he said sternly, " a regular, 
 castle-visiting, tuft-hunting snob!" 
 
 "I don't know what I've got to snob about, 
 Wally," said Mother meekly. . . . "The 
 Castle is human-like anybody can see it's differ- 
 ent. But the Parks. . . . It's the way I've al- 
 ways thought I'd feel about heaven, maybe " 
 said Mother, a little guiltily "kind of 
 everybody-comfortable-and-standing-around-and- 
 doing-no thing sort of place I always knew I
 
 A CALL 263 
 
 shouldn't feel at home in heaven not at first. 
 I like home places." 
 
 "You'll never be a socialist," said Wallace. 
 
 "I don't want to be a socialist," said Mother 
 proudly. 
 
 "Nurse Timberlake's one. All the nicest 
 people are socialists." 
 
 Mother looked at him "Not in Bolton," she 
 replied. "I never heard of any socialists in 
 Bolton folks are pretty comfortable there. . . . 
 You ought to remember how it is in Bolton, 
 Wally!" 
 
 "I can't truthfully say I do remember any- 
 thing of the kind when I was a boy; but 
 things change, you know the world moves " 
 
 "The world doesn't move in Bolton," said 
 Mother firmly. There was a little rising colour 
 in her face in defence of Bolton. 
 
 "Are you coming to my show?" asked Nurse 
 Timberlake quietly; she was not going to let 
 Mother be bothered like this 
 
 Wallace glanced at her. "You think she 
 minds," he said, nodding toward Mother's
 
 264 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 flushed cheeks and the little flustered air "She 
 dotes on it don't you, Mother*?" 
 
 "Wally understands me," said Mother, "but 
 he bothers me sometimes. . . . We're coming 
 to the show all of us," she said. "Wally's 
 coming " 
 
 "If you invite me," said Wallace. 
 
 "Oh, we invite every one if you pay Haif- 
 a-crown for the best seats, and three-pence for 
 the gallery! It's for the work, you know." 
 
 "We'd better have the half-crown ones, 
 Wally," said Mother significantly. 
 
 "Quite " said Wallace, "you take subscrip- 
 tions, too, I suppose *?" 
 
 "We're hoping for them yes. Mr. Wick- 
 ham has given one already." 
 
 "Anthony!" said Mother surprised. 
 
 "John!" said Nurse Timberlake, smiling. 
 
 "Oh John of course!" said Mother. She 
 beamed on the room. "How much did John 
 subscribe*?" she asked. 
 
 "If it isn't a secret " said Wallace. 
 
 "A hundred pounds," said Nurse.
 
 A CALL 265 
 
 'Til put down two hundred," said Wallace. 
 
 Nurse Timberlake flushed a little "It isn't 
 necessary, a hundred is quite enough " she 
 said. 
 
 "You mean you refuse subscriptions for 
 your work." He was looking at her quietly. 
 
 "Sometimes yes " she hesitated a moment. 
 "But give it if you like. I really have no 
 right to refuse anything that people want to 
 subscribe." She had recovered her poise, and 
 was smiling at him. 
 
 "I think we'll call it two hundred," he said. 
 
 Mother looked at him then she looked at 
 Nurse Timberlake and back at Wallace, a little 
 puzzled light in her face "I think you'd 
 better give the same as John does, Wally You 
 both give a hundred that's five hundred dol- 
 lars, you know," she said meaningly. 
 
 "Very well," said Wallace. "Mother says 
 I'm to make it a hundred." He looked at Nurse 
 Timberlake, 
 
 "Thank you," she said. But the little colour 
 had risen again in her face.
 
 XXXII 
 
 MOTHER MAKES A DISCOVERY 
 
 IT was a little cool in the evening and Mother 
 had lighted a fire in the grate. Anthony sat by 
 it, reading the paper. Wallace, having brought 
 Mother safely home from Nurse Timberlake's, 
 had had supper with them and gone away. 
 John had not been in all day. 
 
 Mother was thinking about John as she fin- 
 ished the last of the dishes. There was still 
 daylight enough to see by at six o'clock, and 
 she had not lighted the gas but it was growing 
 a little dusky in the room. She looked over at 
 Anthony 
 
 "You'll spoil your eyes " she said. 
 
 He laid down the paper and took off his 
 glasses, rubbing his eyes a little. "It is getting 
 dark. But the daylight lasts a long time now." 
 
 He glanced at the window in the west. The 
 
 266
 
 MOTHER MAKES A DISCOVERY 267 
 
 canary was hopping about in his cage, trying to 
 settle down for the night. 
 
 Mother threw a cloth over the cage, "Go to 
 sleep!" she said. She came over to the fire. 
 Her face, where the light touched it, was very 
 sober in its roundness. 
 
 Anthony looked at it, bending forward a lit- 
 tle in the firelight to see. He sat up, polishing 
 his glasses "Anything the matter, Mother?" 
 he asked. 
 
 "No," said Mother. She sat down opposite 
 him, and got up and fussed at the fire, and sat 
 down again plumply. 
 
 "You haven't noticed anything about 
 Wally have you, Father?" 
 
 "About Wallace!" 
 
 "Yes. . . . You hadn't noticed that he's 
 that he's getting fond of Nurse Timber- 
 lake!" 
 
 She threw it at him like a bomb and 
 waited, breathless. 
 
 Anthony was silent; he had stopped polishing 
 the glasses, suddenly, and was looking down at
 
 268 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 them; he put them on slowly and glanced across 
 through the dimness "I guess everybody's fond 
 of Nurse Timberlake," he said. 
 
 "You know what I mean, Anthony " Her 
 tone reproached him. "We were down there 
 this afternoon " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Well " she sighed a little "there wasn't 
 anything you could really put your finger 
 on but all of a sudden, I seemed to sense 
 something going on!" She turned to him 
 sternly. 
 
 Anthony smiled. "I don't doubt there was 
 There generally is, isn't there with Nurse Tim- 
 berlake T 
 
 "I don't mean that " said Mother quickly. 
 "It was something special before a thunder- 
 storm, you know?" She leaned forward, look- 
 ing at him significantly. 
 
 "Electricity!" 
 
 "You can call it what you want to," said 
 Mother. "I'm disappointed in Wally!" 
 
 "In Wallace?" Anthony sat up, and looked
 
 MOTHER MAKES A DISCOVERY 269 
 
 across at her. "Wallace can't do anything 
 wrong !" 
 
 "I 'most wish you wouldn't make fun of me, 
 Anthony." Her voice quavered a little "I'm 
 
 all upset " 
 
 "Tell me about it," said Anthony gently. 
 "I'd been planning her for John you know," 
 said Mother. 
 
 "Yes and John has he been planning her, 
 too?" 
 
 "How do I know, Anthony ! I couldn't speak 
 
 about it to him a thing like that !" 
 
 "No I suppose you couldn't. ... I hadn't 
 thought John was quite so badly hit as Wal- 
 lace " he said musingly. 
 
 "You've seen it !" cried Mother. 
 Anthony checked himself "Well, yes I'd 
 noticed one or two things " he said feebly. 
 
 "I thought I'd noticed 'em " 
 
 Mother's voice was muffled. "I don't see why 
 
 you didn't tell me !" 
 
 "I thought you saw it Mother. There, 
 there! don't feel so!"
 
 270 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 "I never saw a thing " she sobbed. "Ex- 
 cept just Wallace liking to come and enjoying 
 pie. ... I thought he came to see me!" 
 
 "Of course he did!" said Anthony promptly. 
 "He thinks the world and all of you as if you 
 were his Mother." 
 
 "And John is my boy, too ! I don't see what 
 I'm going to do about it Anthony Wickham! 
 Can they both marry her !" 
 
 "I don't think they'll want to," said Anthony 
 consolingly. "Don't you think you'd better 
 leave it to the Lord, Mother and to Nurse 
 Timberlake?" he added, after a moment. 
 
 Mother dried her eyes. "I don't believe she 
 has the least idea!" she announced. 
 
 Anthony smiled, out of his dimness "I don't 
 feel too sure. . . . Her cap is a very becoming 
 one! . . . and besides you don't know how 
 John feels'?" 
 
 "No," admitted Mother. "But I've always 
 planned her for him for John you know 
 from the first *?"
 
 MOTHER MAKES A DISCOVERY 271 
 
 "Yes, I know. . . . Isn't there something 
 about its taking two to make a match*?" 
 
 "It's just a kind of a joke for you, Anthony! 
 But I'm the Mother of one of 'em and just as 
 good as the mother of the other " 
 
 "Better!" said Anthony. 
 
 But Mother did not heed him "If I was sure 
 about how he feels about how John feels 
 I'd let Wallace have her!" she said magnani- 
 mously. 
 
 "He's coming " said Anthony, turning to 
 listen to a sound on the stairs. "You can ask 
 him " 
 
 "Anthony Wickham!" she whispered, "don't 
 you dare say a word not a word! . . . And 
 don't you light up not yet till I've got my 
 face dried off. . . ." She turned toward the 
 door. "Is that you, John come right in we 
 were talking about you where have you been 
 all day?' 
 
 "All in the dark aren't you!" said John. 
 He came across to the fire. "I can't see a thing!
 
 272 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 But I judge everybody's here." He felt for a 
 chair. 
 
 "We're here," said Anthony, "and glad you've 
 come. I had something to ask you " 
 
 "Don't bother John about things, Father!" 
 said Mother warningly. 
 
 "This won't bother," said Anthony. "It's a 
 young fellow I met in the book shop to-day. He 
 wants to go to America. I told him I'd ask 
 John what he thought " 
 
 "It's all right to ask him that," said Mother 
 graciously. 
 Anthony smiled "I thought you'd let me." 
 
 So while the conversation took a safe turn 
 and John asked questions about the young man 
 who wanted to go to America, and planned to see 
 him, and agreed to help if he could Mother re- 
 tired into herself and laid her plans to help 
 Providence. . . . 
 
 Presently she broke in "We were down to 
 Nurse Timberlake's this afternoon," she said. 
 
 John turned a little. "I was there, too. I 
 had to run away early an engagement."
 
 MOTHER MAKES A DISCOVERY 273 
 
 "She said you'd been there/' said Mother. 
 She got up and lighted the gas. Then she put 
 on her glasses and looked at him. 
 
 He was talking with Anthony again. . . . 
 Mother waited, and watched him, and thought 
 of Wallace, and got up impatiently, knocking 
 down the tongs and fire shovel. 
 
 "Mother what a racket for a little woman !" 
 said John. He righted them and looked at 
 her. 
 
 "You hadn't ever thought of getting married, 
 I suppose " said Mother casually. 
 
 He looked at her and his eyes twinkled 
 "I might if encouraged," he replied. 
 
 She glanced meaningly at Anthony. "I 
 shouldn't think of encouraging you nor dis- 
 couraging you, either. It's a risk either way " 
 She broke off suddenly, a little quaver in her 
 voice. "I guess I'm tired. I'd better go to 
 bed." 
 
 John got up and kissed her. "Good-night, 
 Mother." He looked down on her, smiling. 
 "Don't you worry about me, I shall have some-
 
 274 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 thing good to tell you some day if everything 
 goes right," he said. 
 
 "Oh, dear!" said Mother "Oh, dear me! I 
 can't say another word!" She darted across 
 the room, and closed the door safely between 
 them. 
 
 John looked at it. "She's all upset isn't 
 she!" 
 
 "Tired " said Anthony. "Mother's tired 
 and things trouble her when she's tired."
 
 XXXIII 
 
 SHE QUESTIONS WALLACE 
 
 MOTHER was sitting in a green chair, looking at 
 the wheels go "round and round." Wallace had 
 persuaded her to come out "You'll like it, 
 Mother come on! You're all used up. It 
 will do you good." 
 
 Mother did look tired there was no denying 
 it her face was screwed in little wrinkles, and 
 there was a look in her eyes as if she saw some- 
 thing coming that she hoped would not hit her. 
 Sitting in her green chair, she watched the cars 
 spin past and the crowd stroll along the walk 
 old men and dogs, women and boys; and Wal- 
 lace watched Mother's face. 
 
 "What's worrying you 4 ?" he said. 
 
 "Nothing," said Mother promptly. "I'm 
 feeling real good!" She told it off glibly, and 
 Wallace looked down at her with a smile. 
 
 "You'd better tell me " he said. 
 
 275
 
 276 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 She shook her head. "It's just a notion of 
 yours I guess. Anthony was saying this morn- 
 ing, I looked peaked but I feel first-rate. . . . 
 A man wants to paint my picture," she said 
 complacently, " I guess I don't look so very 
 bad!" 
 
 Wallace stared a little. "Who is it?" he 
 asked. 
 
 Mother smiled. She had been keeping it for 
 a surprise for Wallace. "A man " she said, 
 " a man I saw in the book shop yesterday." 
 
 "Oh you've been there!" Wallace did not 
 care for the book shop. 
 
 "Anthony wanted me to go," said Mother 
 humbly, "and you said you couldn't come yes- 
 terday; so I went." 
 
 "Did you like it?" asked Wallace after a 
 pause. 
 
 "Pretty well," said Mother. "They talked 
 kind o' loud and fast all together, you know 
 and they shouted some and laughed and hol- 
 lered but they acted as if they had a good 
 time all of 'em. I sat on a stool for a
 
 SHE QUESTIONS WALLACE 277 
 
 while, a high one, nobody seemed to notice much 
 of anything, one way or the other; and then Mr. 
 Boyden the man that laughs, you know*?" 
 She looked at him. 
 
 Wallace nodded. "Yes, I know." 
 
 " He saw where I was and he just laughed 
 out hard and made me sit in his chair . . . 
 my feet didn't touch on the stool not anywhere 
 near " 
 
 "Of course not," said Wallace "I don't 
 think it's a very good place for you to go," he 
 added after a minute. 
 
 "Anthony likes it," said Mother. "He says 
 they have ideas. . . . This man that wants to 
 paint my picture he didn't talk so much as the 
 rest. He just sort of sat forward, looking 
 And when we got up to come away he asked An- 
 thony if he supposed I'd let him do me." 
 There was pride in Mother's voice. She was 
 gazing uncritically at the crowd moving along 
 the walk in front of them. 
 
 Wallace glanced down at her. He would 
 look up this fellow who wanted to paint Mother.
 
 278 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 It was all very well for Wallace to make fun 
 of her and enjoy her quaintnesses but if any 
 painter in a book shop thought he was going to 
 hold her up to ridicule, he would find he had 
 Wallace Tilton to deal with. . . . "What is 
 his name?" he asked. 
 
 She looked up at him from her crowd be- 
 wildered. ... "I was just noticing about 
 their hats They're queer some of them " 
 
 "They truly are!" said Wallace. "What 
 was his name this artist you spoke of 1 ?" 
 
 Mother brightened. "They called him 
 Cameron," she said. 
 
 "Never heard of him," said Wallace. 
 
 "He's Scotch, I guess," said Mother. "He 
 told Anthony I made him think of his mother 
 in Scotland." 
 
 Wallace's face softened a little. "Well 
 he's all right probably." 
 
 "You think he'll do a good likeness of me*?" 
 said Mother anxiously. 
 
 "Probably if you made him think of his 
 mother. It's worth trying anyway."
 
 SHE QUESTIONS WALLACE 279 
 
 "I thought I'd like to have him try " said 
 Mother. "Nobody ever wanted to do me be- 
 fore and we've never had a real good photog- 
 rapher in Bolton. ... I had one likeness taken 
 but Anthony didn't like it. ... The man 
 rubbed out the wrinkles I told him to do it " 
 said Mother a little guiltily. "I thought I 
 should like it, maybe but I didn't. It didn't 
 look natural somehow " 
 
 "Of course not," said Wallace. "You 
 without your wrinkles!" He smiled down at 
 her affectionately, and the wrinkles smoothed 
 themselves softly, one by one, leaving little lines 
 of kindliness and shrewd trust. 
 
 She turned them on the crowd. "I'm getting 
 to like folks a little," she said. "But it isn't 
 like Bolton." 
 
 "Not in the least like Bolton!" said Wally. 
 "But you'll like it first-rate in time See if you 
 don't." 
 
 She turned hopefully. "I don't suppose you 
 ever felt the way I do about it!" 
 
 He smiled a little. "I don't know that I can
 
 280 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 say that. . . . The first year I was so home- 
 sick I would have given all my old shoes, to go 
 back and the second year I had a kind of mel- 
 ancholy resignation " 
 
 "That's what mine is, I think " 
 
 "Perhaps " Wallace smiled. "And the 
 third year I caught on " 
 
 "You caught what?" 
 
 "Caught on understood people how they 
 were feeling down inside, you know. And now 
 you couldn't hire me to go back It's a big 
 place," he added, smiling down at her. 
 
 "That's what I keep feeling all the time " 
 said Mother swiftly, " that it's big. I'm like 
 a kind of little leaf blowing around in it. ... 
 Maybe I might 'catch on' to something the 
 way you did if we stayed long enough but 
 we shan't " she said hopefully, . . . "it's only 
 a month now!" She beamed on him. 
 
 "I shall miss you terribly," said Wallace. 
 "You hadn't thought of that, I suppose?" 
 
 "Yes you'll miss us. ... How did you 
 do before we came over?" inquired Mother.
 
 SHE QUESTIONS WALLACE 281 
 
 "I existed that's all just barely existed." 
 He did not think it necessary to give her all the 
 details of existence before she "came over." 
 Looking back on it now it seemed curiously 
 futile. . . . Well he was done with that 
 thanks to Mother and pie! Wallace was not 
 without a sense of humour about the pies and the 
 part they had played in his regeneration. 
 
 "You'd better go back home with us," said 
 Mother. She was looking at him affectionately. 
 
 "I couldn't be hired to go back anywhere!" 
 replied Wallace. "And this is home now." 
 He waited a minute "I shall probably marry 
 and settle down here," he said slowly. 
 
 Mother jumped nearly out of her green 
 chair. "When are you going to get married*?" 
 she asked. 
 
 "Sometime I hope," said Wallace. 
 
 "Not to anybody in particular 4 ?" she beamed 
 diplomatically. 
 
 "Not to anybody in particular," assented 
 Wallace. "Not yet " He had turned in his 
 chair and was watching the crowd a little smile
 
 282 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 played on his lip. . . . The shadows from the 
 tree overhead fell on his face and flecked his 
 grey coat. Mother, looking up at him, had a 
 little sudden pang; he had always been a good- 
 looking boy and he was two inches taller 
 than John. She sighed softly and looked back 
 at the whirling crowd. 
 
 "I suppose if you married an English 
 woman, you'd have to stay over here any- 
 way ?" 
 
 He dropped an eye on her. "Not if I wanted 
 to go back," he said comfortably, " but I 
 don't." He settled himself more firmly in his 
 green chair. 
 
 "She might not like to leave her castle," said 
 Mother thoughtfully. 
 
 "Her castle!" He opened his eyes at her 
 and laughed. "You think everybody lives in 
 castles since you've been to Thurlow!" He 
 said it mockingly. 
 
 "Some of the nicest ones do," said Mother. 
 
 "This one doesn't. She is poor works 
 for her living." He said it with quiet satis-
 
 SHE QUESTIONS WALLACE 283 
 
 faction. "I can give her more money in a year 
 than she has had in her whole life!" He 
 laughed a little and turned and looked down 
 on her out of happy eyes. 
 
 Mother's mouth opened and shut; she looked 
 at him helplessly. Slowly a look came into her 
 face a deep, guileless look. . . . "You 
 wouldn't want to marry a rich wife, would you, 
 Wally not one with a castle?" 
 
 "I should notr said Wallace. He said it 
 with emphasis. 
 
 And Mother smiled the round, motherly 
 smile that took in Wallace and the crowd and 
 the motor-cars that went whizzing by beyond. 
 "I'm glad you feel that way about it, Wallace. 
 I might have known you would," said Mother. 
 "You always did like your own way!"
 
 XXXIV 
 
 AND LOSES HER CAP 
 
 "I'LL put on my cap," said Mother. 
 
 The artist moved back a little, looking at her 
 "I was thinking of doing you in your bonnet 
 and mantle," he said "the way I saw you the 
 other day." 
 
 "I'd rather be taken in my cap," said Mother 
 promptly. "Wallace brought it for me." She 
 held out her hand to Wallace for her cap-box. 
 
 The artist watched the movement and turned 
 toward his easel. 
 
 "You've got a looking-glass somewhere *?" 
 said Mother, looking about her. The studio was 
 singularly bare grey walls, a great screen, three 
 or four chairs, a little table and canvases stacked 
 against the wall or standing propped against 
 chairs. "I don't see any glass," said Mother, a 
 
 little disappointment in her voice. "But I can 
 
 284
 
 AND LOSES HER CAP 285 
 
 do without it, all right, I guess Wallace will 
 tell me " She began to untie her bonnet 
 strings slowly. 
 
 The artist was still looking at the bonnet 
 "You don't think you would like to keep it on*?" 
 he suggested again. 
 
 She shook her head at him firmly. "I look 
 better in my cap," she said. 
 
 He turned away. "There is a looking-glass 
 behind the screen." He pushed his easel a lit- 
 tle under the light and wheeled the model stand 
 in place. 
 
 Mother disappeared behind the screen. Cam- 
 eron looked toward Wallace, who was standing 
 where Mother had left him, looking about the 
 high, bleak room. 
 
 "Sit down, won't you*?" he said. "I'm fright- 
 fully disappointed, you know I'd got an idea 
 of how to do her and there wasn't any cap in. 
 it." He smiled a little. 
 
 "I wanted to speak to you about the picture," 
 said Wallace. He had not seated himself. He 
 was standing with his hand on the chair, look-
 
 286 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 ing at the artist. "I should like it to be my 
 property when it is done." 
 
 The artist stirred a little and looked at him. 
 "That's very kind," he said. "But I I want 
 to exhibit, you know " 
 
 Wallace returned the look. "We can decide 
 about that when the picture is done," he said. 
 
 "I've an idea I can do something pretty good 
 with it," said the artist. "I seemed to see it, 
 the other day I felt like a boy !" 
 
 Wallace sat down. "You don't mind my 
 staying?" 
 
 "Not in the least Make yourself at home." 
 
 "Now, where do you want me to sit*?" said 
 Mother. She had appeared around the corner 
 of the screen in all the radiance of her cap. 
 
 The artist looked at her Slowly a smile 
 
 came to his face. He motioned toward the 
 model stand. 
 
 "Up there on that thing!" said Mother. 
 "Mercy!" 
 
 She mounted it and unrolled her work. "I 
 brought my knitting," she said. "I can knit
 
 AND LOSES HER CAP 287 
 
 without looking on, and I like to be doing. . . . 
 Am I all right?" 
 
 "First-rate," replied the artist absently. He 
 was walking about the stand, looking at her. 
 "I shall have to set a new palette " he said 
 slowly. "I had one ready. But the cap 
 changes the key " He went back to his easel. 
 
 Mother looked at Wallace helplessly. 
 "There isn't anything wrong with it is there, 
 Wally 1 ?" she whispered, putting up a hand. 
 
 "Your cap's all right, Mother don't 
 worry !" 
 
 The wrinkles smoothed themselves and 
 Mother's needles moved swiftly, happy, dart- 
 ing, twinkling lines of rhythm. The artist 
 mixed his colours and watched the needles and 
 watched the face. Wallace was talking to 
 Mother, chaffing her, and the face looking down 
 at the needles was shrewd and happy. The 
 artist drew a line or two on the edge of his can- 
 vas. 
 
 Mother's quick eye caught the movement and 
 a stone curtain dropped upon her. The happy
 
 288 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 face became a blank every wrinkle in it a 
 stiff, hopeless ridge. "He's beginning, Wally," 
 she said swiftly, "don't interrupt !" Her ex- 
 pression set itself firmly ahead. 
 
 The artist dropped his brush "You can talk, 
 you know all you want to," he said a little 
 desperately. 
 
 "I'd rather not talk while I'm being taken," 
 said Mother. "I can't keep my expression." 
 
 The artist said nothing. He went on mixing 
 a palette, a little grim smile on his face. 
 
 "You're not doing me now, are you 4 ?" said 
 Mother. 
 
 "No I'm not doing you I'm getting my 
 palette ready." 
 
 The stony look relaxed and Mother was look- 
 ing down at her knitting again with the little 
 shrewd, homely smile. . . . The artist moved 
 swiftly across the room and placed another can- 
 vas on an easel, a little to the right, and drew 
 a few quick strokes. His face held a kind of 
 stern light 
 
 Wallace Tilton watched him, smiling.
 
 AND LOSES HER CAP 289 
 
 Mother knitted on, serene. Presently she looked 
 up. "It takes a good while to get ready, doesn't 
 it*?" she said. She was finishing off a needle 
 with a little flourish of fingers, and she set it 
 anew and looked over her glasses at Wallace, the 
 fingers flying nimbly of themselves. 
 
 The artist came back, guiltily, to his first 
 easel. "I'm nearly ready," he said. He stood 
 off and looked at her, and drew a long, slow 
 line. 
 
 "You tell me when you're going to begin *?" 
 said Mother. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "I've always noticed that, about painting," 
 she said placidly, "when we've been having the 
 
 kitchen done It seemed as if they'd never get 
 
 the colour right fix and fuss half a day on it. 
 The other rooms we always had done white, and 
 they'd always get along fast enough on them." 
 
 The painter stole back to the other easel and 
 put in a few stealthy lines while Mother ram- 
 bled on. 
 
 So the two canvases went on side by side
 
 290 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 one a little, old lady with her head a trifle bent, 
 looking down at her knitting Mother of all the 
 world, thinking of her children; the other, a 
 very prim old lady who never had a wicked or 
 unvirtuous thought in her life looking with 
 fixed smile into the cannon's mouth. 
 
 "It looks earnest, doesn't it," said Mother. 
 She had climbed down from the model stand 
 and was standing, surveying it doubtfully. 
 
 Wallace stood beside her, looking on and 
 smiling a little. 
 
 "You think it looks like me, Wally?" she 
 asked. She was peering at the rigid face. 
 
 "It isn't done yet you know," said Wallace. 
 He did not let his glance stray to the other easel. 
 It was only when Mother had disappeared be- 
 hind the screen, to put on her bonnet, that he 
 walked over to it and stood looking down at it 
 with something between a laugh and a little 
 quick clutch at his throat. . . . The artist, 
 cleaning brushes across the room, nodded slowly 
 and came over. "It's going to be all right 
 you think?"
 
 AND LOSES HER CAP 291 
 
 Wallace glanced at him. "You could never 
 do any better not even with a bonnet on," he 
 said. 
 
 The artist's face fell. "I did want that bon- 
 net." 
 
 The bonnet reappeared. Mother bore her 
 cap-box carefully in her hand. "I'm thinking 
 of leaving it here if it will be safe " 
 
 "Perfectly safe," said the artist. "We'll put 
 it up here " He placed it on a high shelf 
 and Mother looked at it with satisfaction. "I 
 didn't want anything to happen to it," she 
 said. 
 
 Just what did happen to it could never be 
 rightly explained. But when Mother and An- 
 thony appeared, the next morning, it had dis- 
 appeared. The artist could not find it there 
 were so few places to look in the bare studio 
 and at last Mother was persuaded to mount the 
 model-stand in bonnet and mantle. "It's my 
 best one!" she said softly. She undid the 
 mantle a little fluffing out the feather edge 
 and pulling the ribbon bows in place beneath
 
 292 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 her chin. "Do I look all right, Anthony 1 ?" she 
 asked. 
 
 "Much as usual, Mother," said Anthony. 
 
 "I can bring my second-best cap to-morrow," 
 she said, " and I shall take it home with me 
 it's lucky I have two." 
 
 No one said anything and the artist worked 
 swiftly. It behooved him to make hay while the 
 sun was shining. "This is only a rough sketch, 
 you know," he said casually, stepping back to 
 look. 
 
 Mother's face relaxed the little wrinkles 
 rested themselves and beamed. "I don't need 
 to be so particular how I look, then *?" 
 
 "Don't be particular at all," murmured the 
 artist. 
 
 A kind of rapture held his face there would 
 be other sittings but to-day he must catch the 
 note of life that would fill them all and make 
 them live.
 
 XXXV 
 
 HER PORTRAIT 
 
 IT was partly John's plan, and partly Cam- 
 eron's to include Anthony in the picture. The 
 artist's first thought when John spoke to him 
 about doing a portrait of his father, had been 
 that he would paint Anthony alone a compan- 
 ion piece to the "Lady in a Bonnet." But as he 
 saw Anthony and Mother together, day after 
 day in the studio, they came gradually in his 
 mind into the compass of one frame with only 
 the little table and a bowl of yellow nasturtiums 
 between them. ... In the end, this was the 
 picture that went to the exhibition, and won for 
 Cameron a place in the world of artists. . . . 
 The wrinkles in Mother's face, and the soul look- 
 ing out and the bonnet were irresistible. An- 
 thony was hardly more than a shadow, a mere 
 sketch, at the left of the picture yet needed 
 somehow, subtly, to complete its meaning. 
 As the work went on, Mother forgot to be 
 293
 
 294 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 anxious. She even forgot to pose, and there was 
 a comfortable understanding between her and the 
 artist that this was a trial sketch a rough thing, 
 so to speak; the real work would begin when 
 she donned her cap. 
 
 The studio grew to be a friendly meeting 
 place. Wallace, coming in one day to escort 
 Mother home., found Nurse Timberlake sitting 
 looking at the portrait. 
 
 "She likes it, Wally!" announced Mother. 
 
 He shook hands with Nurse Timberlake 
 gravely. "Very good, isn't it?" He nodded 
 toward the portrait. 
 
 "You don't think Mr. Wickham is a little 
 obscured?" she asked, looking thoughtfully to- 
 ward it. 
 
 "No more than usual," laughed Wallace. 
 "And I suspect " he looked again at the por- 
 trait "I suspect that, as time goes on, he will 
 come to seem all right and in place. . . . 
 There's something about him in his shadow in 
 the background there that keeps you wonder- 
 ing."
 
 HER PORTRAIT 295 
 
 "Of course," said Nurse Timberlake. 
 
 Wallace smiled a little. "Not so much of 
 course unless you happen to be an artist, like 
 Cameron." 
 
 "He has caught the spirit " 
 
 Mother, from her model-stand, looked down 
 on them. "I can't hear what you're saying 
 very well " she said "unless you speak 
 louder." 
 
 Nurse Timberlake came over to the stand. 
 "We were saying it is going to be a good por- 
 trait." She nodded. toward it. 
 
 "Anthony's in it, you see?" said Mother. 
 
 "Yes We were just saying it is going to be 
 capital of him." 
 
 "I want his legs stouter," said Mother, look- 
 ing at it. "I've told Mr. Cameron about his 
 legs. Anthony's legs are thin; but there's enough 
 to 'em to stand on! Did you see John*?" 
 
 The nurse turned a puzzled face 
 "John ?" 
 
 "I sent him to you on an errand to your 
 rooms," said Mother.
 
 296 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 "Oh I haven't been there all day." 
 
 "He can go again to-morrow You'll be there 
 to-morrow, I suppose*?" 
 
 Nurse Timberlake shook her head. "I'm go- 
 ing to be away all day." 
 
 "We shan't be here much longer," replied 
 Mother. 
 
 Nurse Timberlake turned an amused face on 
 her "What was the errand*?" she asked. 
 
 The studio door opened "There he is now !" 
 said Mother. 
 
 He came over and shook hands, smiling at the 
 group around the stand "Just the place for 
 you, Mother on your throne." He moved over 
 to the portrait. 
 
 "I want to see you a minute, John," said 
 Mother mysteriously. 
 
 "All right, Mother when you descend " 
 
 "She's through for to-day," said the artist. 
 "Too much chatter to work in." He moved the 
 easel to one side. 
 
 Mother descended from her throne, and beck- 
 oned to John and they disappeared behind the
 
 HER PORTRAIT 297 
 
 screen. The artist carried his brushes across the 
 room. 
 
 Nurse Timberlake began to put on her gloves. 
 Wallace watched her a minute. "Are you go- 
 ing right home*?" he asked. 
 
 "Yes." She was buttoning them slowly. 
 
 "I'll walk with you if I may " 
 
 "Didn't you come for 'Mother"?" she asked. 
 
 "John will take Mother," said Wallace de- 
 cisively. 
 
 She appeared from behind her screen. "I 
 wanted the pattern for my cap," she said, "the 
 one you promised " She was looking at Nurse 
 Timberlake. 
 
 The nurse stood up. "I'll send it to-night. 
 Good-bye, I must run on now " She held out 
 her hand. 
 
 "John will bring it," said Mother. "He's 
 going along with you to bring it." Nurse 
 Timberlake's face had flushed a little its easy 
 flush. Wallace was looking at her. John, who 
 had been speaking with the artist, came across 
 "All ready V he risked.
 
 298 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 There was a little minute's silence. 
 
 "John's ready," suggested Mother. 
 
 "I'm going with Miss Timberlake," said Wal- 
 lace. "I'll bring your cap-pattern, Mother." 
 He did not exactly escort Nurse Timberlake 
 from the room; but it certainly would not have 
 been easy for any one else to come between him 
 and his purpose. . . . 
 
 Mother looked after them, with a little mur- 
 mur of disappointment. "Wallace is so 
 auick !" she said. 
 
 "That's why you like him isn't it, Mother?" 
 
 She cast a swift look at John. She did not 
 want John to be unhappy. "I like Wallace 
 well enough. . . . But he doesn't know every- 
 thing!" 
 
 John laughed out. "I have an idea he knows 
 what he wants," he said easily. 
 
 Mother looked at him again and she looked 
 at the portrait where she sat, erect and com- 
 petent, in her bonnet and at Anthony, in his 
 shadowy corner. Then she looked again at 
 John "I don't believe you'll ever get mar-
 
 HER PORTRAIT 299 
 
 ried!" she said "you're too much like him!" 
 She nodded toward the portrait. 
 
 John smiled a little. "Father got married " 
 he said, looking at it affectionately. 
 
 "Yes-s. . . . He married me " 
 
 "I wish I could do half as well," said John. 
 
 The corners of her mouth smiled a little 
 
 John watched them. "Shall I tell you some- 
 thing, Mother?" 
 
 She turned her face on him, a little afraid 
 and hopeful "It's a discovery I've made," said 
 John. 
 
 "Yes *?" She glanced hastily at the art- 
 ist he was busy with brushes. 
 
 "It's about women," said John. "Some- 
 thing I've found out if you want them to like 
 you, don't be too eager. Isn't that so *?" He 
 was watching her, smiling. "Isn't that 
 so 9" 
 
 "Yes, it's so." Mother's face lightened a lit- 
 tle. "But I don't know how you found it 
 out " Then she sighed. 
 
 "I've lived with you, Mother and " he hes-
 
 300 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 itated. "Never mind! I've found it out . . . 
 and I'm not being too eager. But some day we 
 shall see !" He laughed happily. 
 
 Mother's eyes rested on him, full of love 
 and a little pity. "You come home to supper 
 with me," she said. "I've got a new apple-pie 
 for supper and you can be just as eager with 
 pie as you want to I guess."
 
 XXXVI 
 
 WALLACE'S SECRET 
 
 WALLACE came up the seventy-three steps, two 
 at a time barely stopping for an answer to his 
 quick knock. Mother looked up she was put- 
 ting tea in the pot and she set it down, quickly. 
 "John's gone," she said. 
 
 "Has he 1 ? I'm sorry. I thought I might 
 catch him." He walked over by the bird- 
 cage and stood looking out across the roofs. His 
 face beamed on tiles four hundred years old. 
 He wheeled about and smiled at her "I've got 
 good news!" he said. 
 
 The tea-pot in Mother's hand gave a little 
 quick twist. She set it down again on the 
 table "Sit down, Wallace " 
 
 He moved across the room "I can't sit 
 down, Mother I'm too happy! She is the 
 nicest little thing isn't she !" 
 
 301
 
 302 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 Mother's face stared then it beamed 
 "Sit down, Wallace, and tell me all about her!" 
 she said. 
 
 Wallace laughed out "There's nothing to 
 tell you about her that you don't know." 
 
 "You mean ?" Mother's wrinkles were 
 bent on him. 
 
 He nodded. "On the way home I took my 
 chance in a 'bus; awful jam drivers shout- 
 ing and tooting. . . . Nothing very romantic 
 about that, I can tell you !" He laughed again. 
 
 Mother poured out a cup of tea and handed it 
 to him; her hand was shaking a little. 
 
 Wallace stopped suddenly and looked at her 
 "You're not half as pleased as I thought you'd 
 be," he said. 
 
 "I'm kind of excited about it, Wally and 
 and surprised," she said swiftly. 
 
 "Surprised! I thought everybody knew. 
 She wasn't surprised." He chuckled a little. 
 "She said I'd been deliberate enough about it 
 You knew, didn't you?" He turned to look at 
 her.
 
 WALLACE'S SECRET 303 
 
 "Knew ?" faltered Mother. Her glasses 
 were blinking softly at him. 
 
 "Knew that I was bowled over done 
 up !" 
 
 "Oh, yes I knew that." 
 
 "Well, that's what I meant." Wallace took 
 up his pie happily. 
 
 "I didn't know just how she'd feel about it," 
 said Mother. "You can't always tell about 
 women how they feel." 
 
 "You're right you can't!" laughed Wallace. 
 "I'd have spoken months ago if I'd known!" 
 
 "That was before John came," said Mother 
 quickly. 
 
 " The first day I saw her!" assented Wal- 
 lace Then he stopped and flashed a look at 
 her. "You're not worrying about him ?" he 
 said. 
 
 Mother's face grew red. "I don't know 
 what you're talking about, Wally." 
 
 Wallace's eyes studied the face "I'd forgot- 
 ten about that," he said softly. 
 
 Mother's figure grew very dignified in its
 
 304 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 plumpness. "I've never seen any one that I 
 thought would do for John!" she said. 
 
 "My-my!" said Wallace. Then the teasing 
 tone dropped. "You know I wouldn't cut in 
 ahead of John if I knew." 
 
 Mother's look was mollified. "John is very 
 particular!" she replied. 
 
 Wallace smiled. "Only the best for John," 
 he assented. "But my little girl will do for 
 
 me!" 
 
 Mother's glance rested on him. "I don't see 
 why you call her little, Wally she's bigger 
 than me !" 
 
 Wallace smiled at her. But Mother took no 
 heed. " I thought for a minute you must 
 mean somebody else when you called her a lit- 
 tle thing." 
 
 "She is little," asserted Wallace. " A nice 
 little thing! And I'm her protector!" he 
 touched his chest largely. "I am the big man 
 that's the way a man feels about his wife, 
 Mother; he wants to take care of her and pro- 
 tect her and provide for her "
 
 WALLACE'S SECRET 305 
 
 Mother jumped a little. She got up and 
 fussed with the tea things and sat down. "Will 
 she want to come and live with you, Wally do 
 you suppose*?" 
 
 Wallace stared. "Why shouldn't she want 
 to live with me*?" 
 
 "Of course she'll live with you yes. I only 
 thought I wondered maybe she won't want 
 to give up " 
 
 "Give up nursing?" Wallace laughed out. 
 "I don't think there will be any trouble about 
 that. Of course she will have her charity 
 and her allowance I shall see that she has an 
 allowance, a good one, for charity." Wallace's 
 face was full of comfortable assurance. 
 
 Mother stole a look at it and looked in her 
 teacup and smiled. "You'll have a good 
 many things to learn, won't you, Wally *?" she 
 said quietly. 
 
 "That's the nice part of it," said Wallace. 
 He leaned toward her. "I can't tell you, 
 Mother, how it makes me feel to have some 
 one to take care of and I never should have
 
 306 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 known if it hadn't been for you." He was look- 
 ing at her. 
 
 Mother's eyes blinked. "I know you'll be 
 good to her, Wally. . . . And I wouldn't be 
 too much disappointed if I was you if you 
 can't do everything for her." 
 
 "It won't be my fault if I can't," said Wal- 
 lace. 
 
 "I know that, Wallace," said Mother. 
 "You've been real good to me you couldn't 
 have been better if you'd been my own Oh, 
 dear me!" said Mother, and suddenly she was 
 rocking and sobbing a little. . . . And Wal- 
 lace comforted her, smiling down at her round- 
 ness and wrinkles and tears.
 
 XXXVII 
 
 ANTHONY GOES WITH HIS FRIEND 
 
 "You'D better wear your second-best one," she 
 said. 
 
 Anthony looked at his second-best coat and 
 hung it up again on its nail. "I think I'll call 
 this my second-best," he said, looking down at 
 the one he had on and smoothing it a little. 
 
 Mother examined it critically, through her 
 glasses. "It seems extravagant," she said, 
 "and it looks like rain but, of course, he's a 
 Lord. . . . You'll have to buy a new one, for 
 best, if you take to wearing this one common." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "It will cost twenty-five dollars," said 
 Mother. 
 
 Anthony finished tying his necktie. "I think 
 John likes to do things for us, Mother," he said 
 slowly. "We mustn't disgrace John " 
 
 "You couldn't disgrace anybody, Anthony 
 307
 
 308 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 no matter what you wore," said Mother stoutly. 
 She was looking at him thiough her round, 
 proud spectacles. 
 
 "I didn't mean disgrace exactly, Mother. 
 I think the boy likes to do it for us " 
 
 "Of course he does," said Mother. She 
 sighed a little "and we might as well let him 
 it's the only comfort he's got now " 
 
 Anthony made no reply. They had gone 
 over the whole thing the night before, after he 
 came in, sitting up till nearly twelve o'clock. 
 They had gone over everything from the be- 
 ginning the kind of socks John wore when he 
 was a baby and John at play and John at 
 school and Mother had wept softly, and An- 
 thony had comforted her the best he could. 
 He could not, somehow, quite fancy that 
 John's life was entirely blighted there must 
 still be comfort in life for a man with John's 
 appetite. But Mother had found no solace in 
 John's appetite. "I've never seen anybody I'd 
 want him to marry, before," she had said, weep- 
 ing a little.
 
 ANTHONY GOES 309 
 
 "I've never felt so sure that John wanted 
 to," said Anthony. His tone was thoughtful. 
 He had come, in these days in London, to have 
 a new sense of his son a sense of a quiet, mas- 
 terful force that took what it wanted without 
 hurry and without doubt. "I think if John had 
 wanted her, he would have had her," he said. 
 
 But Mother set it aside uncomforted. "Men 
 don't know everything Men don't know what 
 they want," she had replied. And it proved to 
 be the last word spoken. 
 
 She surveyed him now with tolerant eyes, 
 turning him about, brushing off invisible specks. 
 "You'll want to take your umbrella," she said, 
 "and don't stay too long talking. You'll 
 have plenty of chances to talk about every- 
 thing there is to talk about." 
 
 There was a knock at the door, and Mother 
 opened it and came back. "It's a telegram," 
 she said. She held it out stiffly to Anthony and 
 waited. She had never got used to telegrams 
 though Wallace had tried faithfully to train 
 her, sending her three in one day to get her ac-
 
 310 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 customed to the uniformed, monkey-capped boy 
 and the brown envelope. 
 
 Anthony opened it slowly and laid it down, 
 and groped a little for something. She put his 
 umbrella in his hand. "What does it say?" she 
 asked. 
 
 "It's an accident," said Anthony. He 
 gathered up the paper and put it in his pocket. 
 "It's lucky I was going they want me " 
 
 "Is it the Lord?" asked Mother. 
 
 "Yes." His fingers reached blindly to some- 
 thing. 
 
 "You've got your umbrella here," said 
 Mother. "Now don't you go to getting upset, 
 Anthony." She looked at him. . . . "You 
 don't think I'd better go with you?" 
 
 "No." He bent and kissed her and went out. 
 The paper in his pocket had told him more than 
 he revealed to Mother and Anthony went fast. 
 
 The heavy door opened to him, before he 
 touched it. 
 
 "This way, sir," said the man. "We have 
 muffled the bell. . ."
 
 ANTHONY GOES 311 
 
 There was no sound in the great house. The 
 sun poured down through the staircase window 
 and lay in spots on the stairs and rug. . . . "If 
 you will wait here a minute Miss Timberlake 
 will see you," said the man. 
 
 She came in quietly without her nursing cap 
 and apron. "We came this morning Sister 
 and I. They sent us word yes. The accident 
 was yesterday coming down from Thurlow. 
 No one knows it does not matter how it hap- 
 pened now. . . . He is not suffering no. 
 They have given him something. ..." She 
 led the way up the stairs to a door and opened 
 it softly. 
 
 "Mr. Wickham has come, Cousin Thurlow," 
 she said, bending over him. 
 
 And the man put out a hand and groped 
 "Sit down," he said. 
 
 The nurse moved a little away. Lord 
 Raleigh pushed up the bandage from his eyes. 
 "I can't see very well," he said. "They have 
 done me up Sit down." 
 
 There was silence in the room. Anthony
 
 312 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 waited quietly. Presently the man spoke "It 
 was my machine " he said, "I always knew 
 it would end me." He smiled, under the 
 bandage. "We talked about that " 
 
 "We've talked about a great many things," 
 said Anthony. He was going with the man 
 through the portal, along an unknown road. 
 They both knew. There was nothing to say. 
 But Anthony would go with him to the 
 Gate. . . . "I'm glad you've come," he said, 
 and dozed a little, with the drug, and woke and 
 spoke to the nurse and she moved to him quickly. 
 
 "Take it off," he said he put up a hand 
 "It doesn't matter now." 
 
 The nurse removed the bandage with deft 
 fingers, and the face lay against the pillow a 
 carved face, touched with the coming immortal 
 look. 
 
 Anthony's eyes rested on it, and the eyes 
 looked out at him and went down down 
 and flickered, and the nurse pressed her hand 
 upon them. She looked at Anthony and he 
 stood up groping. . . . The man who un- 
 derstood him was not there now.
 
 XXXVIII 
 
 A CABLE AND APPLE-PIE FOR JOHN 
 
 JOHN came in, and looked at Mother doubtfully, 
 and crossed the room. Mother seemed not to 
 notice. She went on with her baking. She 
 was very considerate of John, these days. He 
 opened his lips, and moved about a little and 
 seemed about to say something, and changed his 
 mind. 
 
 "I met Miss Timberlake on the stairs as I 
 came up," he said at last. 
 
 "I wondered if you'd meet her," said Mother. 
 "She was here quite a spell." 
 
 "She's going back to Thurlow, she says *?" 
 
 "Yes " Mother waited. "Do you think 
 Wallace knows yet*?" she asked. 
 
 "He doesn't guess," said John. "He thinks 
 she went to Thurlow and to the funeral as a 
 nurse or something." 
 
 Mother smiled. "I've 'most thought perhaps 
 313
 
 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 he'd break it off when he knows " She was 
 watching John but he seemed unmoved. 
 
 "Wally is not a fool," he said. 
 
 "He isn't a fool exactly," said Mother. 
 "But he would hate terribly to marry a rich 
 wife." 
 
 "There's no disgrace in a rich wife if you 
 love her," said John quickly. 
 
 "I didn't mean anything in particular, John," 
 said Mother soothingly. "But Wally's al- 
 ways said it's the one thing he wouldn't do 
 he told me, one day, he wouldn't ever be a post- 
 script to a rich wife and he'll hate it terribl)'-. 
 And I don't blame him I shouldn't want you 
 to marry any one that was too important." She 
 looked at him affectionately and pityingly. 
 
 John returned the look and opened his mouth 
 and shut it, and went and stood by the window 
 with his back to the room. . . . "There's 
 something I've been thinking about, Mother," he 
 said slowly. 
 
 Mother was half-way into her kitchen she 
 looked back hastily "Wait a minute, John, till
 
 A CABLE AND APPLE-PIE 315 
 
 I take out my pie." She came back presently 
 with a flushed face. "It 'most burned," she 
 said. 
 
 "Should you mind going home, Mother 1 ?" 
 said John abruptly. He had faced about and 
 was looking at her. 
 
 "Right off?" said Mother. 
 
 "Within a week or so " 
 
 She beamed on him. She looked about the 
 little room "I could be ready to-morrow!" she 
 said. 
 
 "You wouldn't mind*?" asked John. 
 
 "Mind !" said Mother. She looked about the 
 room again almost as if it were a secret, and 
 London might not let her off. 
 
 "I should love to go!" she said. She drew a 
 long breath. "I'll go now and begin to pack 
 up; but the washing won't be back not till to- 
 morrow." 
 
 John laughed. "There's no such a hurry, 
 you know. I have to wait for a cable " 
 
 "Is it business?" she asked. 
 
 "Yes-s a kind of business. I can't tell you
 
 316 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 yet, Mother. ... I only thought I'd see how 
 you felt if I should have to go." 
 
 "You needn't think about me, John nor 
 about your father. I'll be glad to get him away. 
 He hasn't been the same " 
 
 "No I know. But you don't need to go 
 back. You and he could go on to the Conti- 
 
 nent- 
 
 "Alone!" said Mother. 
 "You could have a courier- 
 
 "I don't want it " said Mother. "I don't 
 know just what a courier is but I don't want 
 it, anyway I'd rather go home " 
 
 "Well, you shall go if I do," said John. 
 He took up his hat. "I'll look in later and tell 
 you." And he was gone. 
 
 Mother disappeared into the bedroom and got 
 down on her knees and pulled out trunks and 
 boxes and began packing a round, tremulous 
 smile on her face. 
 
 Anthony came and found her there, and looked 
 quietly down at the confusion. "Cleaning 
 house*?" he asked.
 
 A CABLE AND APPLE-PIE 317 
 
 Mother looked up and blinked. "We're go- 
 ing home, Anthony!" The canary in his win- 
 dow heard it and trilled a little. 
 
 Anthony smiled. "I hadn't heard about it," 
 he said. 
 
 She got up from her knees, dusting them off 
 softly. "You want your dinner, don't you? I 
 declare, I forgot it!" She bustled out into the 
 other room, hurrying happily back and forth. 
 
 "It 'most makes me cry I'm so happy!" she 
 said. "I did cry a little after John went. 
 But it hindered the packing " 
 
 "John's been here, has he?" said Anthony. 
 
 "He came in all worked up and fussed 
 and fidgeted; and finally he got it out that 
 he wants to go home. I told him I'd go to 
 morrow!" Mother beamed. 
 
 "What's happened?" said Anthony. 
 
 Mother looked at him. ... "I guess we 
 know what's happened, Anthony." 
 
 "Do we?" Anthony returned the look, puz- 
 zled. 
 
 Mother nodded with deep significance.
 
 3i8 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 "He told you, then*?" said Anthony. 
 
 "I didn't need any telling," said Mother. 
 "He said it was business, and he'd have a cable 
 to-day but 7 knew well enough what he meant 
 by a cable! John's heart is broke! that's 
 what's happened !" 
 
 "Why Mother!" Anthony smiled a little 
 and took his cup and stirred it thought- 
 fully "You think John is running off home be- 
 cause " 
 
 "You don't need to say it that way, Anthony! 
 Of course, he'll go in a boat! You say 'run- 
 ning off home' just as if " 
 
 "Just as if he was a coward!" said Anthony 
 quietly. 
 
 "Well something like that. It makes him 
 sound ridiculous!" said Mother sternly. 
 
 "John won't be ridiculous," said Anthony. 
 
 "That's what I meant !" said Mother. "You 
 don't need to tell me that John Wickham won't 
 be ridiculous He's coming now!" 
 
 The door opened and John came in. He was 
 smiling. He came across and kissed his mother
 
 A CABLE AND APPLE-PIE 319 
 
 and sat down. "Just in time for lunch! Any- 
 thing left?" 
 
 Anthony passed him a plate and Mother went 
 into her kitchen. She came back laden with 
 good things. 
 
 Anthony looked at them quietly. "It pays 
 to come late," he said. 
 
 "I thought maybe John would be here or 
 Wally," said Mother. She set down the good 
 things in front of him her face round with 
 questions, but in silence. John helped himse;f. 
 
 "You're ready to go, I suppose," he said cas- 
 ually. 
 
 Mother looked up "I've begun to pack," she 
 said. 
 
 "Everything in but her toothbrush," said An- 
 thony. 
 
 "Did your cable come 4 ?" asked Mother 
 innocently. She had a warning eye on An- 
 thony. 
 
 "Yes." There was silence in the room and 
 the canary cocked his eye at the silent table, 
 singing hard. . . .
 
 320 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 John took a bit of paper from his pocket and 
 handed it across to Mother. 
 
 She looked and her fingers fussed at it, and 
 then she looked at him and at Anthony, sig- 
 nificantly. . . . "It just says 'Yes.' I sup- 
 pose that means we'll go?" she said slowly. 
 
 "It means we'll go," said John. He laughed 
 out, looking at her. "It means you'll have a 
 new daughter, Mother!" 
 
 The canary trilled a whole roulade, filling the 
 notes with light . . . and Mother looked at 
 John through the whirl of them "What did 
 you say John 4 ?" 
 
 Anthony was smiling at her gently. Her 
 son got up and came over and kissed her 
 "That's what it means, Mother that Kitty Ar- 
 den says 'yes' !" 
 
 "I don't know any Kitty Arden " said 
 Mother helplessly. . . . 
 
 "She's your daughter," said John. "But it 
 was a close call." 
 
 "I thought it was a cable," said Mother.
 
 A CABLE AND APPLE-PIE 321 
 
 "So it was at last!" laughed John. "She 
 hated to say it !" He looked at the cable a lit- 
 tle fondly and proudly. 
 
 "You mean she didn't want to marry you !" 
 said Mother, looking up at him, indignation in 
 all her roundness. 
 
 He nodded. "Hated to the worst way!" 
 He laughed out. "I had to run off first before 
 she found out." Mother glanced at Anthony. 
 "I've engaged passage for Wednesday will 
 you be ready *?" added John. 
 
 "I'm most ready now," said Mother. But 
 she was looking at him wistfully. "It seems 
 queer, that you're going to marry some one I 
 never saw " she said. 
 
 He patted the shoulder. "She's nicer than 
 any one you ever saw, Mother and a world too 
 good for me," he added quickly. "And I'm go- 
 ing to marry her before she has time to change 
 her mind again." 
 
 Mother gasped a little and he laughed down 
 at her.
 
 322 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 "She's all right, Mother. You'll like her 
 even better than Nurse Timberlake." He 
 bent and kissed her again, and was off. 
 
 Anthony smiled at her. She wiped away the 
 little tear and looked at him almost guiltily. 
 
 "How do you suppose he guessed about Nurse 
 Timberlake ?" she asked.
 
 XXXIX 
 
 MOTHER PACKS HER TRUNK 
 
 THE packing went forward rapidly. Wallace 
 coming in found Mother sitting on top of next- 
 to-the-last trunk, pressing it firmly down. "It's 
 packed pretty full," she said beaming on him 
 and drawing a deep breath. "It needs two " 
 
 She moved a little to one side, and Wallace sat 
 on it with her, and helped her strap it, and she 
 brought out the piece of pie. "You will miss 
 us, won't you, Wally," she said, watching him. 
 "And I don't suppose you'll ever be coming over 
 home either " she looked at him wistfully. 
 
 Wallace shook his head "Don't want to go 
 back except to see you. Old England's good 
 enough for me!" 
 
 "Yes I know you like it. It's lucky about 
 your wives, isn't it*?" 
 
 He looked at her 
 
 "Yours and John's letting you live where 
 323
 
 324 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 you want to both of you. . . . You didn't 
 ever see her, did you?" she asked suddenly, look- 
 ing at him. 
 
 "Her ?" 
 
 Mother nodded "John's wife, you know." 
 
 Wallace laughed. "You get on so fast 
 with your wives, Mother! Yes, I've seen her. 
 I used to see Kitty Arden rather often." 
 
 Mother's face lighted. "What is she like, 
 Wally*? I can't get anything out of John 
 not anything sensible." 
 
 "She's the prettiest girl you ever saw," said 
 Wallace. 
 
 "Prettier than Nurse Timberlake?' asked 
 Mother, guileless. 
 
 "Much!" Wallace was serene. 
 
 Mother looked at him with reproach in her 
 cap. "You hadn't ought to say that, Wal- 
 lace!" 
 
 "It's the truth," said Wallace. He looked at 
 the last piece of pie and took it. "There are a 
 good many men would have liked to marry Kitty 
 Arden," he said slowly.
 
 MOTHER PACKS HER TRUNK 325 
 
 "I hope she'll make a good sensible wife for 
 John," said Mother. 
 
 "You aren't afraid of any one that John picks 
 out, are you ?" His eyes were twinkling at 
 her. 
 
 "Not exactly," said Mother. 
 
 "You needn't be afraid for Kitty," said Wal- 
 lace. "She has kept her head level through 
 things that would have spoiled a good many 
 girls with all that money " 
 
 Mother looked at him "What did you say, 
 Wally?" 
 
 "I said that with all the money she's had to 
 spend and no mother " 
 
 "John told me her mother was dead but he 
 didn't tell me about the money " 
 
 Wallace chuckled. "She's one of the richest 
 girls in the States." He was watching Mother's 
 face. "Her father is John Arden, of the United 
 Steel and Wire, you know." 
 
 "He said his name was John," said Mother. 
 
 "Worth millions," said Wallace. 
 
 "Oh, dear!" Mother's face had grown full
 
 326 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 of round woe "How can I visit 'em, Wally, 
 and take care of the babies if they have a 
 million dollars!" 
 
 "Million-dollar babies have tummies, don't 
 they, Mother same as dollar-ones'? I guess 
 you can coddle 'em all right. They'll have 
 rows of nurse-maids in white caps, of course," 
 said Wallace wickedly. "But you'll find it's all 
 right. I shouldn't want a rich wife myself " 
 
 "When did you see Nurse Timberlake*?" said 
 Mother swiftly. 
 
 He stared at 'her "I believe you're jealous 
 for her! ... I haven't seen Alicia" he 
 said the name happily "I haven't seen her 
 since Wednesday. She's up at Thurlow, you 
 know." 
 
 "I knew she'd gone to Thurlow," said 
 Mother. Her tone was mysterious. 
 
 He looked at her. "What do you mean 4 ?" 
 
 Mother shook her head. "Nothing!" 
 
 "You know better you've got something on 
 your mind " 
 
 "Well you kept saying things about
 
 MOTHER PACKS HER TRUNK 327 
 
 John!" Mother looked at him, her feathers 
 ruffled. 
 
 "I didn't say anything about John except 
 that Kitty is rich." 
 
 "She doesn't own a castle " said Mother. 
 "I'm not going to say another word," she shut 
 her mouth, squeezing it tight. 
 
 Wallace looked at her narrowly "Go ahead !" 
 he said. 
 
 But she shook her head hard. "It isn't your 
 fault, Wally and I shan't say a word /" 
 
 Wallace looked up. Anthony had come in 
 and was smiling at them, quietly. "Anything 
 wrong *?" he asked. 
 
 "Suppose you tell me what Mother means," 
 said Wallace. "I just happened to say some- 
 thing about Kitty Arden and she's bristling with 
 hints " 
 
 "What did you say about Kitty?" asked An- 
 thony. 
 
 "That she's rich you knew that." 
 
 "Yes, John told me " 
 
 "And I said folks that live in glass houses
 
 328 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 better be careful," said Mother, still myste- 
 rious "That's all I said." 
 
 Wallace turned to Anthony . . .*? 
 
 Anthony smiled. "That's what Mother 
 means, I guess, Wallace." 
 
 And between them Wallace Tilton learned 
 a word at a time from Anthony, with breath- 
 less gusts from Mother Wallace learned the 
 truth. . . . He turned it slowly in his 
 mind 
 
 "Serves me right!" he said. 
 
 "It isn't your fault, Wally! I told you it 
 wasn't your fault!" said Mother consolingly. 
 
 Wallace laughed shortly and got up. "Well, 
 I must be off to Thurlow Castle!" he said. 
 "I shall have a word to say to Miss Alicia Tim- 
 berlake!" He bent and kissed Mother, and 
 looked down at her gently and kissed her again 
 "It's all your fault," he said. "I shouldn't 
 have thought of marrying her if it hadn't been 
 for you and your pies!" And he was gone. 
 
 Mother looked at the door wistfully almost 
 regretfully and went back to her packing.
 
 MOTHER PACKS HER TRUNK 329 
 
 "Talking that way about John!" she said softly 
 into the depths of the trunk. 
 
 She lifted her head suddenly. "Do rich folks 
 always have nurse-maids in caps rows of them, 
 Anthony 1 ?" 
 
 "Rows of them in caps'?" Anthony's mind 
 went slowly. 
 
 Mother nodded. "To take care of the 
 babies?" 
 
 Anthony smiled. "I guess they do when 
 they have the babies. They don't all of 'em 
 have babies, you know !" 
 
 Mother returned to her trunk. "John will," 
 she said softly again in the depths. 
 
 Anthony came to the door and looked in at 
 her. "I'm going out a little while," he said. 
 
 Mother emerged "Where you going 1 ?" she 
 asked. 
 
 "Just anywhere on a 'bus perhaps " An- 
 thony's tone was vague. 
 
 Mother looked at her second-best bonnet, and 
 turned it round. She had been trying to find a 
 place for it a safe place. She put it on her
 
 330 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 head. "I think I'll go with with you," she said. 
 
 Anthony glanced at the trunk "You haven't 
 time, have you*?" 
 
 "I'm packed all but this. Maybe I shall 
 carry it in my hand, anyway, in a box " She 
 tied the strings elaborately under her chin, 
 looking at her roundness in the glass. "I feel 
 kind of queer, somehow," she said slowly. 
 "I've been wanting to go seemed as if I couldn't 
 wait to go; and now the time's come, I feel as 
 if I didn't want to not exactly." 
 
 "We can stay " said Anthony. 
 
 "Oh I don't mean that " said Mother has- 
 tily. . . . "But it seems as if I'd ought to have 
 seen more paid more attention perhaps. I feel 
 real queer about it !" She put on her gloves and 
 took up her net-bag. "I'm ready," she an- 
 nounced. 
 
 "Go where there's a crowd," she said "any- 
 where the crowd is. That's the most like Lon- 
 don." 
 
 "We'll take No. 6," said Anthony. 
 
 It was coming rapidly down the street, and he
 
 MOTHER PACKS HER TRUNK 331 
 
 hailed it and Mother scrambled aboard, breath- 
 less. 
 
 She gave a little triumphant nod as they 
 mounted to the top "That's one of the things 
 I've got so I can do," she said seating herself 
 firmly. "I can get on and off while they're go- 
 ing pretty fast. I used to be real mad when 
 they didn't stop. Now I don't wait to be mad 
 I just climb on!" 
 
 Anthony laughed. "We've learned a good 
 many things in London " he said musingly. 
 
 "You have," said Mother. She looked up at 
 him a little wistfully. "It doesn't seem as if 
 I'd learned much just how to get on a 'bus!" 
 
 "There are people who have lived in London 
 all their lives who can't do it," said Anthony 
 consolingly. 
 
 "Do you think so?" Mother brightened. 
 She beamed down on the crowd from her 'bus. 
 "I most wish we'd stayed longer," she said. 
 "I'm getting kind o' used to it, I guess Look 
 how queer they be, Anthony all running every 
 which way!"
 
 332 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 Anthony leaned over beside her and they 
 watched the crowd down the Strand, along 
 by the Lions and Trafalgar Square and Pall 
 Mall, up Regent Street and Piccadilly and the 
 Circus and Oxford. . . . The city played its 
 game of darting crowds and cabs and 'buses 
 and tangled life, and Mother looked down on 
 them half -guiltily, half-wistfully her face 
 screwed in its soft wrinkles. 
 
 "It does make my head whirl !" she said. "I 
 keep wondering where they're all going to and 
 what they're after! Look at that old thing, 
 Anthony!" Mother pointed out the broad- 
 backed, broad-skirted figure that ambled with 
 the crowd, her bonnet askew and her skirts tilt- 
 ing over the shabby, run-over shoes and gaping 
 stocking-heels. Mother looked down on them 
 incredulity in her face. "Wouldn't you 
 think she'd just want to cry, Anthony!" 
 
 Anthony watched the waddling figure, with 
 his little, gentle smile "You're the one that 
 wants to cry, I guess, Mother. She looks pretty
 
 MOTHER PACKS HER TRUNK 333 
 
 comfortable as if she enjoyed carrying her 
 taper " he added softly. 
 
 "Carrying her what, Anthony*? You must 
 shout louder up here." 
 
 "I said carrying her taper," said Anthony. 
 And the 'bus lurched and stopped and the words 
 roared themselves out 
 
 "Sh'h !" said Mother. "Mercy ! everybody'll 
 hear us !" 
 
 But no one seemed to care. Passengers 
 climbed down and new ones climbed up, and 
 the traffic roared. 
 
 "They all seem to be carrying tapers don't 
 you see 1 ?" said Anthony looking down "little 
 tapers " 
 
 Mother leaned further over "I don't see any- 
 thing that looks like a taper or any kind of 
 light," she said. 
 
 Anthony smiled. "They're not in sight 
 they're far inside somewhere little tapers of 
 life and they carry them carefully every one 
 guarding his own and feeding it fighting for
 
 334 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 it ... and nobody knows why only he 
 mustn't let the fire go out. . . ." 
 
 Mother looked at him uneasily Anthony had 
 not had a queer spell for weeks 
 
 "They look to me just like folks hurrying to 
 get somewhere," she said practically. "And 
 that old woman with no stockings on hardly 
 ought to be shut up !" 
 
 Anthony smiled at her "Just think how she 
 keeps her taper burning! in all that dark," he 
 said softly. "She is a brave soul I think " 
 
 Mother said nothing. But deep thoughts 
 held her. It was time they went home! She 
 was glad they were going home. . . . Perhaps 
 when they got back to Bolton Anthony would 
 forget London and queerness and old women, 
 with no stockings hardly, carrying their tapers 
 carefully along on Oxford Street.
 
 XL 
 
 THE SHOP WHERE NOTHING HAPPENS 
 
 FAT SAMUEL puffed a little and sighed, and 
 reached out for another pair and looked at them 
 scornfully and fell to work with waxed thread. 
 It had not been easy for Samuel to keep pace 
 with the feet of Bolton. He had come to 
 look suspiciously at feet on the street; and he 
 grudged the children their very skipping-ropes 
 and hop-scotch wearing out good leather! 
 He drew the waxed thread wrathfully in and 
 out and scowled at the window where the 
 sun played along cobwebs and made little dusty, 
 dancing motes and fell on the empty bench across 
 the room. There were shoes on the bench, shoes 
 on the floor shoes everywhere. . . . The door 
 gave a little click and tingle, and swung open 
 and Samuel looked up and scowled and 
 changed to a slow, long, doubtful gaze a sweet, 
 fat smile that broke through the gloom. 
 
 335
 
 336 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 Anthony stood looking at him and at the shop 
 at the dust and cobwebs, and the shoes on the 
 floor. He came over and held out his hand. 
 
 And Samuel's took it, doubtingly, and rubbed 
 along his apron, and his mouth came together. 
 "I didn't know you'd got here," he said. 
 
 "Came last night," said Anthony. "Plenty 
 of work, I see " He nodded at the chaos of 
 shoes. 
 
 "Too much for me!" grumbled Samuel. He 
 took up his stiff thread and fell to work, with a 
 covert eye on Anthony Wickham. He had heard 
 rumours of London and of Anthony 
 
 Anthony took off his hat and coat slowly and 
 hung them up, his glance taking in with a smile 
 the old, worn bits of leather and the clutter on 
 the floor. He tied on the striped apron and 
 crossed to his bench; and took up a pair and 
 looked at them and looked over his glasses at 
 Samuel "Judge Fox's best?" he said. 
 
 Samuel nodded. "I put off best ones," he 
 said. "I can't do 'em!" He scowled fiercely, 
 and stabbed holes and sewed on.
 
 THE SHOP 337 
 
 Anthony blew a little dust from the boots 
 and set them aside; his thin fingers sorted the 
 pairs on the bench and reached to the floor, 
 and ranged them along before him. . . . "I'll 
 do the fine ones first," he said softly. 
 
 A look of fat relief stole into Samuel's face and 
 spread above the waxed ends. "I've done my 
 best on 'em," he grunted, "worked myself to the 
 bone with 'em!" 
 
 Anthony's smile flitted across the bulk of Sam- 
 uel, and drew in the room. "You've done first- 
 rate, Samuel. It's hard work doing shoes 
 alone." 
 
 Samuel's gaze relaxed subtly. The shop was 
 not the same there were shoes on the floor, but 
 they were hopeful shoes; and the children skip- 
 ping outside and calling to each other, sounded 
 happy. . . . The door tingled and opened and 
 a little girl peeped in and held out a pair of 
 shoes and Samuel smiled at her and she dropped 
 them hastily and withdrew. 
 
 Anthony picked them up "Joe Gibson's," he 
 said. . . . The school bell rang and jangled
 
 338 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 and the voices calling outside died away. . . . 
 Anthony fell to work the same old stitching, 
 gentle rhythm, tap-a-peg , tap-a-peg, tap-tap- 
 tap 
 
 The bell above the door jingled all Bolton 
 had heard that Anthony Wickham was back 
 all day they came. ... It was the same An- 
 thony Wickham who had gone away less than 
 a year ago yet somehow a subtly different An- 
 thony. You have to look a little at a man who 
 has been in London a year nearly a year. . . . 
 And they looked at him curiously, and brought 
 him shoes and left them. 
 
 Each time the bell tingled, more shoes lay 
 heaped on the floor. After dinner there was a 
 little lull and Samuel and Anthony sewed and 
 pegged in silence. It was the same old shop, 
 where nothing happened. Only Anthony, with 
 England behind him and the roar of London 
 coming and going gently in his thought, was per- 
 haps a little different; but the same sunshine was 
 on the floor, the same dusty motes danced above
 
 THE SHOP 339 
 
 it, and the same shreds of leather and waxed 
 ends lay everywhere. 
 
 The door opened tremulously, and gasped a 
 little and stood still, and Anthony looked up. 
 "Why, Mother!" 
 
 "It's come!" she said. She held out the en- 
 velope. "It's come. I knew it would , but 
 somehow I didn't quite expect it." She sat 
 down breathless. 
 
 Anthony took the envelope and opened it and 
 looked at her over his glasses. "They'll be 
 here to-night. That's good, isn't it!" 
 
 "There isn't a thing in the house, Anthony 
 not a thing to eat!" said Mother. 
 
 He read the telegram again. "But they're 
 going to the hotel. 'Kitty and her father will 
 go to the hotel,' that is what it says they will 
 go to the hotel. You have enough for John to 
 eat, I guess." 
 
 Mother's round gaze rested on him, pity- 
 ingly. "You can't let your own folks go to a 
 hotel, Father!"
 
 340 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 "It isn't John," said Anthony. "It is 
 Kitty " 
 
 "It is just the same," said Mother firmly. "I 
 know what I mean, Anthony, and you know; 
 you can't make me comfortable that way. I've 
 got to get right back ;" and she looked about 
 the shop a little helplessly and sighed, "I 
 wouldn't mind so much if he wasn't a million- 
 aire," she said softly. "I was going to have 
 cornbeef for supper " 
 
 Samuel plodded on over his stitches. 
 
 " and potatoes," said Mother, "and some of 
 that cabbage that was left over it'll taste good 
 and carrots ; it don't sound right for a million- 
 aire somehow !" 
 
 Anthony looked at her with the little affection- 
 ate smile between his eyes. "Don't you worry, 
 Mother. Everything you do will be just right. 
 You will make it homelike for them and that's 
 what John wants " 
 
 "I shall make an apple pie " said Mother. 
 "I shall make two pies," she added swiftly. 
 "You can't tell what might happen."
 
 THE SHOP 341 
 
 "It isn't Wallace," said Anthony, smiling. 
 
 "I shall make two pies," said Mother, "two 
 apple-pies with a good crust, upper and under. 
 Men folks like my pies as a rule," she added 
 modestly. 
 
 She got up and smoothed her apron. 
 
 "Don't you worry about me, Anthony. I 
 shall get along all right. I just came down to 
 tell you so you'd get home, time enough to put 
 on your second-best ones." 
 
 Anthony took up his hammer and began to 
 look for pegs. She regarded him a minute, a 
 little pride in her face "I don't know but you 
 might as well wear your best ones," she said 
 slowly "the ones you got in London." 
 
 Samuel reached for another pair of shoes and 
 Mother went out. 
 
 The bell tingled behind her. 
 
 It tingled again for the big man who came in 
 and tilted comfortably back and watched An- 
 thony's hammer tap its way around the sole. 
 
 "Going to keep on mending, just the same, are 
 ye" he asked.
 
 342 THE TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 "Just the same," said Anthony. "It's my 
 business, you know mending shoes." 
 
 "I hear John's doing well *?" replied the 
 man. 
 
 Anthony stitched on, and pegged a little. . . . 
 "He's going to be married next month, you 
 know?" He looked over his glasses. 
 
 "That so!" The chair tilted itself a little 
 farther back and the big man looked at him be- 
 nevolently, and the bell jingled again and An- 
 thony broke off to take shoes but it was only 
 Simon, hopping in 
 
 "Know what they call ye 4 ?" he asked nimbly 
 " 'Anthony London!' I heard one of 'em as I 
 come along Anthony London," he said. 
 "He'd got you kind o' mixed up, I guess!" 
 Simon laughed glibly and sat down. Samuel 
 scowled at him and went on stitching the less 
 said about London, the better in Samuel's 
 eyes. But he was not to escape. . . . He was 
 to know Fleet Street as if he had been born 
 there Fleet Street with its whirling, banging 
 and slamming, and shuffling feet and the
 
 THE SHOP 343 
 
 dome of St. Paul's floating behind its feather 
 of smoke. . . . Samuel could not be called an 
 imaginative man, but he saw the visions St. 
 Paul's and all London shaping themselves in 
 Anthony's gentle words and he dreamed, dully, 
 of a great, ever-going city across the world. 
 
 "I hear the Rich grind the faces of the Poor 
 pretty bad over there !" said the big man, tilting 
 happily. 
 
 Anthony looked up. "I didn't see any grind- 
 ing going on," he said with a twinkle. . . . 
 But his face had grown thoughtful. 
 
 "There are very poor people in London," he 
 said slowly, tapping it into the sole on his lap 
 "poorer than anywhere in the world, I think." 
 He set the shoes on the bench beside him. 
 "They have no hope," he said. 
 
 "That's bad !" said the big man solidly and 
 comfortably, tilting a little further back. 
 
 Samuel grunted. Anthony glanced over at 
 him. "Do the best you can with 'em, Samuel. 
 Gibson's hard on his shoes " 
 
 "Drunk half the time !" said the big man. "I
 
 344 TH E TASTE OF APPLES 
 
 hear they're going to take away the property of 
 Lords, and so on give it to the Poor. How do 
 you think the Lords will like that!" He asked 
 it ponderously. 
 
 Simon peered up; it sounded blasphemous 
 and interesting and hopeful. 
 
 Anthony shook his head. "It will be a long 
 time, I think, before they take it all away." 
 
 The big man looked at him suspiciously. 
 "I saw it in a paper," he said "the same place 
 where I saw about grinding the faces of the 
 poor. Did you see any lords?" he asked, with 
 a little suspicion still in his voice. 
 
 "I saw one," said Anthony. He waited a 
 minute. "He had his property taken away from 
 him all his possessions taken away in a 
 minute everything." 
 
 "How did he like that!" said the big man, 
 triumphant. 
 
 Anthony's eyes seemed looking at something 
 far away as far as London, it might be. "He 
 didn't seem to mind," he said. "He let them
 
 THE SHOP 345 
 
 The big man stared at him. The legs of the 
 chair came ponderously down. 
 
 "Well I swunny! That beats me Never 
 minded!" He got up and stretched himself 
 and looked at Anthony. "Never minded!" he 
 said and went slowly out, turning over Lon- 
 don in his mind. 
 
 Simon skipped behind him and the little shop 
 was quiet only Anthony London, maker and 
 mender of shoes, stitching on, and fat Samuel, 
 growing steadily serene in his gloom. . . . 
 Outside, through the open window, they heard 
 the voices of children running and shouting and 
 wearing out shoes for Anthony to mend. 
 
 THE END
 
 000 052 681