THE MARRIAGE OF 
 PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 fNlV. OT CALIF. LIBRARY. LOS ANCFJJW
 
 CSracc filler 
 
 STORM COUNTRY POLLY 
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA 
 PEPPERDAY
 
 A third time she attempted to speak, but her cramped 
 
 throat refused to make audible sound. 
 
 FRONTISPIECE. See page 317.
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF 
 PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 BY 
 
 GRACE MILLER WHITE 
 
 WITH FRONTISPIECE BY 
 
 RALPH P. COLEMAN
 
 Copyright, 1922, 
 BY LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY. 
 
 Att rights reserved 
 Published February, 1922 
 
 PBINTED DJ THE UNITED STATES or AVTEBICA
 
 TO 
 
 MY LITTLE FRIEND 
 JOE SCOTT 
 
 2133700
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF 
 PATRICIA PEPPERDAY
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF 
 PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 IF, by chance, a stranger addressed Adelina Pepperday 
 as "Mrs. Pepperday," she was accustomed to explain 
 with a smile illuminating her face: "Miss Pepperday 
 by choice, thank you!" 
 
 There was a good reason for this "by choice," so 
 Adelina's friends averred, for many of them remembered 
 that a certain young man had left Balmville with a hang- 
 dog air after Madison Pepperday's eighteen-year-old 
 sister had broken off her engagement with him. The ins 
 and outs of the disrupted betrothal were known to none 
 but Adelina and the swain she had dismissed. 
 
 Men were out of her life forever, she told herself, 
 as often as she allowed her mind to dwell upon the mas- 
 culine sex. 
 
 The old-fashioned Pepperday homestead on Black- 
 berry Lane in Balmville, a suburb of Newburgh on the 
 Hudson, was Adelina's home. She lived there "by 
 choice" also, as she had often reiterated. Her brother, 
 Madison, after he had taken for his wife Charlotte Rush- 
 more, purchased a handsome residence of his own a 
 mile or so distant, and he never ceased his efforts to 
 persuade his sister to join his family circle as a per- 
 manent member.
 
 4 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 "No house big enough for two families, Mat, dear," 
 was her reply each time the subject was broached. " The 
 place where my father and mother lived and which they 
 left to me when they died, is good enough for me. I 
 intend to be an old maid, anyway." 
 
 One day, a year or so following Madison's marriage, 
 Adelina in astounded wonderment, gazed down upon three 
 sleeping infants who were snuggled together like newly 
 born kittens. 
 
 " Here they all are, Aunt Addie," Madison said, 
 grinning, "two boys and one girl Barney, Michael and 
 Patricia Pepperday! Newburgh will open her eyes 
 when they grow up, by Jove. Touch 'em, Addie ! They 
 won't bite you." 
 
 And Adelina, extremely perturbed, touched them. 
 First she laid her finger against Barney's soft cheek, 
 but he slept through the ordeal as if he did not mind it 
 in the least. 
 
 " Touch the rest, Addie. The middle one is a girl! 
 She's a wee bitty like you, sis." 
 
 Having discovered that both she and the small boy 
 were intact, she placed a cautious hand on Patricia's 
 dark head. That done, she drew back as if her duty 
 had been well performed. 
 
 " Don't show partiality, Auntie," her brother laugh- 
 ingly admonished. " Here's another!" 
 
 Then a most unusual thing happened. Large drops 
 of water rolled down Adelina's pretty, smooth cheeks. 
 
 " There's such a mess of 'em, Mat!" she sighed. 
 
 Nevertheless, by that time having become used to 
 the process, she bravely picked up the third baby's 
 hand. Then she nearly fell over upon him. He had 
 clutched hold of one of her digits with a thumb and 
 four fingers which Aunt Addie could liken only to so 
 many curled leaves of a summer rose. Then Michael
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 5 
 
 opened his gray eyes and yawned with a mouth no larger 
 than a scarlet button. 
 
 With that Adelina's breathing was so interfered with 
 by a great gasp that she fled to the door, but something 
 within herself gave her pause. 
 
 " The last one belongs to me," she gulped at her 
 brother. "Tell Charlotte I said so. He's got eyes like 
 mine, and he smiled at me, I hope to goodness if he 
 didn't. He gets my house and what money I leave, when 
 I'm done with 'em, Mat." 
 
 That night Aunt Addie swept out the dust that had 
 accumulated in the secret mansion of her heart during 
 the seven years since she had become " Miss Pepperday, 
 by choice," and the three sleeping tenants moved in and 
 took a life lease on the property. But, as she later told 
 herself and made plain to others, Michael Pepperday 
 occupied the star chamber in her soul suite. 
 
 She watched with the interest of a mother the babies 
 grow into toddlers, and, during an attack of scarlet 
 fever, she abandoned her own home to hover over the 
 triplets with never-ceasing prayers. When the rash had 
 subsided, she went back to Blackberry Lane with the 
 feeling that of course the neighbors thought her weak and 
 foolish, but she did not give a hang if they did. 
 
 Now, nineteen years later, an older although still un- 
 usually good looking Adelina was standing at her window, 
 peering out through the pane of glass slightly varnished 
 with frost. Not that her action was of any avail, for the 
 outside world was obscured by a fall of snow, dropping 
 straight down toward the earth. 
 
 Earlier in the day the storm had coursed in from the 
 north, crystallizing hoarily the withered stalks of the 
 garden flowers, while each separate branch of the hem- 
 lock trees that girded the house was decorated with a 
 peculiar, frosty fluff of white.
 
 6 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 The Pepperday triplets were home for the Christmas 
 holidays, and but a moment since, Adelina's niece, Patri- 
 cia, had telephoned that she had just returned from New 
 York and had "a bushel of news to tell her." 
 
 Anything concerning her cherished children always 
 set Adelina in a flutter, and, because she could not see 
 much further than the end of her shapely nose, she turned 
 from the window with a sigh. 
 
 Meanwhile Patricia Pepperday was gliding swiftly over 
 the snow on her skis to unbosom to Aunt Addie the sud- 
 den change that now faced her family. 
 
 Below the medium height of women by several inches, 
 Patricia was exquisitely if diminutively fashioned, and as 
 straightly erect as the poplar trees that edged the Foster- 
 town road. As she swung along, white teeth gleamed 
 through her smiling lips. From under the narrow brim 
 of her small hat, blue in color, stray curls twisted, raven- 
 black, about her winsome face. Her sand-gray eyes, 
 arched by dark brows and rimmed by sweeping lashes, 
 were sparkling with confidence and high resolve. 
 
 A few yards before she reached Blackberry Lane, she 
 paused in an attitude of expectancy. Not that she was 
 fearful, unaccompanied, in the solitary highway, nor was 
 she alarmed at the storm that followed the river on its 
 way to the sea. But at this juncture her heart was going 
 pit-a-pat, the blood in her veins surging in excitation. 
 She was bidding a sort of farewell to the wild land of 
 her childhood, for during her visit to the city she had 
 turned the first sharp corner of her sheltered years. She 
 would soon be enveloped by New York's Broadway with 
 its covered wonders. Out here in the winter silence she 
 longed to relive the emotions called into being in the 
 presence of Martin Brewer, Broadway's eminent play- 
 wright. She visualized his kindly smile and smiled her- 
 self at the memory.
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 7 
 
 In his directors' room, Mr. Brewer had said: 
 
 "I've in mind a story that will suit you three young- 
 sters down to the ground, but it isn't finished. However, 
 we'll start you in on something else, so you can get to 
 work immediately. 
 
 "Sing this bit for me, Miss Pepperday," and she had 
 sung a song of Mr. Brewer's own composition, around 
 which he intended to build a Biblical allegory, so he told 
 her. 
 
 Now she hummed it over and spoke the first line of 
 the song aloud: 
 
 " There is a River, the Streams whereof shall make 
 Glad the City of God." 
 
 How reverently strong ran the beautiful words to the 
 finish ! 
 
 The City of God! Ignorant of what the metropolis 
 held for her, the innocent Patricia decided that that City 
 was New York, the River was Broadway, Broadway 
 with its streams of music and laughter and song! 
 
 Three days before yesterday she had been a prankish 
 schoolgirl. To-day the City of God had divorced her 
 completely from Vassar, that mighty seat of learning, the 
 Alma Mater of her adolescent dreams. Not that she 
 loved Vassar less, but her splendid Pater more. 
 
 A cold weather bird in the barren tree above her 
 sounded a weird, short chirp. Patricia flung up her head 
 and in quick response twittered back at him. A small 
 flock of crows passed over Blackberry Lane southward. 
 She smiled after them in gladness of spirit. She laughed 
 aloud as a smart young rabbit bounced across her path, 
 but he was out of sight before she could wish him a 
 "Merry Christmas." God's creatures were loving life as 
 she loved it. 
 
 Then she started on the slow climb up Blackberry 
 Lane, to reveal the great news to Aunt Addie.
 
 8 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 "Not going back to school, Patricia!" exclaimed 
 Adelina, aghast. " For mercy's sake, take off your coat 
 and sit down. Tell me all about it while I make you a 
 cup of tea." 
 
 The removal of Patricia's fur coat revealed what a mite 
 of a girl she was in spite of her nineteen years. 
 
 " The Pater was almost heart-broken," she said, sinking 
 into a chair, " but, as I asked him, what are his children 
 for if not to help him, and you'll see it our way, too, I 
 know!" 
 
 While her niece amplified her explanations, Adelina con- 
 tented herself with exclamations and ejaculations of won- 
 der and sympathy. Her intense interest in the subject 
 matter overcame for the time being her inordinate fond- 
 ness for verbal comment. 
 
 It seemed that Madison Pepperday had become in- 
 volved in a wild-cat oil scheme at the instigation of a 
 young lawyer by the name of Edward Blake who had 
 a country home just east of Miss Pepperday's farm- 
 house. 
 
 " I thought the Pater looked awfully pale when I got 
 home from college," Patricia went on, " and it took me 
 two hours to wheedle out of him that he had sunk so 
 much money in the wells that he didn't know which way 
 to turn." 
 
 " My goodness," interjected Adelina, " it doesn't seem 
 like Mat at all." 
 
 "No, it doesn't! Yet, I can see just how father 
 started. He told me all the details. You know how 
 smooth and oily Eddie Blake can be when he likes. Then 
 he's an alderman of New York, and I suppose there's 
 some glamour about that." 
 
 " He has no glamour for me," popped in Miss Pepper- 
 day. 
 
 " And then," continued Patricia, disregarding the inter-
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 9 
 
 ruption, " when he had the Pater so tangled up he 
 couldn't move, Eddie suggested that he'd advance father 
 what money he needed if if I'd marry him." 
 
 Her cheeks went scarlet as the last words fell from 
 her lips. 
 
 Adelina was staring at her, her mouth open. 
 
 " The very idea!" she cried. " Why, he's as tall again 
 as you are! You'd break your neck, trying to look at 
 him. He bragged to my hired man just the other day 
 that he stands six feet four and a half inches in his 
 stocking feet." 
 
 " I presume he does," agreed Patricia. " His height 
 is nothing against him. I like tall men. But nothing 
 on earth could induce me to marry a man with his prin- 
 ciples. And besides that, he drinks too much." 
 
 " I know it, dearie, and I'm glad you have the spirit 
 to stand out against him. Nothing you could tell me 
 about him would surprise me a bit. I've just had an 
 experience with him. 
 
 " Why, Paddy, one of his barn cats lost its leg in a 
 trap some boy set in my fodder lot not long ago. The 
 poor hurt beast couldn't walk on three legs, so there was 
 nothing for me to do but to bring 'im down here." 
 
 " Oh, my," burst in Patricia with sympathy, " have 
 you him yet? May I see him?" 
 
 " Of course," nodded Aunt Addie. " He isn't happy 
 anywhere but in my room, so I let him stay up there. 
 I telephoned over to Blake about him, and he talked 
 to me as slick as could be. Said he was very sorry 
 that I should have been bothered but did he send any 
 one after that cat or come himself as a Christian ought 
 to? No, he didn't, not by a jugful, and the animal is 
 still here and will be the rest of his natural days, if I 
 don't miss my guess. The more I know of Mr. Blake, 
 the better I like his three-legged cat my cat, I mean.
 
 io THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 Now, there's your tea, honey. Sit up to the table and 
 drink it while it is hot." 
 
 Her tone melted into tenderness on her last admonition. 
 Her brother's pronouncement at his daughter's birth that 
 his little girl was " a wee bitty like " Adelina had proved 
 true. 
 
 Michael had declared in a facetious moment: 
 
 " Aunt Addie's taller than Paddy just because she 
 wears woolen stockings." 
 
 For a while, during which Patricia drank the tea and 
 devoured several home-made doughnuts, both were silent. 
 
 " I wish I had money enough to keep you children in 
 school, Pat," said Adelina, from her position at the 
 stove. " It seems dreadful for all of you to stop now 
 in the midde of your second year. If I hadn't promised 
 Mike this place, I'd sell it and and " 
 
 Her hesitating sentence was checked abruptly by Patri- 
 cia springing up from her chair. 
 
 " You dear old plum," she exclaimed. " Not one of 
 us would hear to that. I should think not! Besides, 
 there's no need, Auntie. The Pater will get on his feet 
 again soon, and in the meantime But I haven't told 
 you the best part of it. The boys and I are going on the 
 stage! What do you think of that?" 
 
 " On the stage!" gasped Adelina. " Why, your father 
 won't let you!" 
 
 " He wouldn't at first," admitted Patricia. 
 
 Then Aunt Addie had to hear all about Martin Brewer, 
 how splendid he was and what big, handsome fellows he 
 had said Barney and Michael were. 
 
 " Yum-yum cried when I told her about it," said Pa- 
 tricia, her throat thickening at the memory, " but mother 
 has lots of sense, even if she can't see. And she was 
 glad when she found it was Mr. Brewer who is going 
 to have us in charge."
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY n 
 
 " Yum-yum " was Barney's and Michael's and Patri- 
 cia's pet name for their small mother. 
 
 Several years before Charlotte Pepperday had lost the 
 power to see, and it was a scrupulously followed rule of her 
 family that, so far as possible, she should be kept in 
 ignorance of the worries which once in a while eventuate 
 in the most orderly of households. 
 
 " I argued with the Pater not to tell her our financial 
 trouble right away/' imparted Patricia, " but he said, 
 'Yes!'" 
 
 Adelina coughed to hide her emotion. 
 
 " The stage might be all right for you and Barney," 
 she faltered. " But what about Michael? He's such an 
 impetuous laddie!" 
 
 " He is a little headstrong, dear," conceded Patricia 
 thoughtfully, " but he's so fine he's so fine " 
 
 " And so good," pointed out Adelina, quickly. 
 
 " Yes, the best and most beautiful boy in the world! 
 There's something about him, Aunt Addie, that gets down 
 deep in my heart. I've worried a lot over him, especially 
 since he was mixed up in that hazing scrape at Princeton. 
 But, of course, he'll be all right!" 
 
 "Of course! " came in smiling agreement. "Surely, 
 he will!" 
 
 " Now you know as much as I do, dear," said Patricia, 
 " and you needn't worry about the Pater, because I 
 left him a lot happier with Yum-yum. I must run along 
 home now." 
 
 She had harnessed on her skis and was ready to glide 
 away when Adelina called to her: 
 
 " Paddy, don't breathe it to him, but I bought Michael 
 a gold pencil for Christmas. Tell him to come over 
 to-night if he can. Tell him I made him a mince pie, 
 and he'd better come and get it before some one else 
 eats it up."
 
 12 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 PERHAPS, the Bar Association of the City of New York 
 boasted no more spectacular figure than Patrick O'Kel- 
 leron. By birth he was connected with some of the 
 oldest families in New England. His wealth, the inheri- 
 tance from a paternal uncle, placed him among the really 
 rich in the great city. Nevertheless, being a clear-brained 
 young man, in the habit of doing his own thinking, he 
 had made his fortune his servant and already, at twenty- 
 seven, had made a not unenviable record in his profession. 
 
 But Patrick's ambitions reached beyond his legal prac- 
 tice, although he had been gratified at the invitation to 
 join the staff of lawyers who acted as aides to the District 
 Attorney of New York County and had accepted the 
 assignment as a civic duty. Some day, however, he 
 intended to try his hand at turning out a novel or, possi- 
 bly, a play. But that would not be just yet. 
 
 With the delight of a boy he was now striding along 
 the Fostertown Road on his way to the home of Edward 
 Blake. The vast expanse of snow was glorious, and he 
 was glad he had accepted Blake's invitation for the week- 
 end at Balmville; not that he was enthusiastic over the 
 holiday house party of which he was to be a member, 
 for generally he deemed such affairs stupid. A fellow 
 met so many uninteresting people, and in Patrick's opin- 
 ion most social functions wasted a deal of valuable time. 
 
 However, the fact of the matter is, that an intimate 
 friend of O'Kelleron's, Martin Brewer, had asked him as 
 a personal favor to give the young politician a lift up 
 toward a judgeship. So that when Blake had called him 
 on the telephone that morning, he had considered this
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 13 
 
 an excellent opportunity to study the candidate in his 
 own environment before he came out openly as his politi- 
 cal supporter. 
 
 " He'll make a good enough judge, Pat," Brewer had 
 said in one of their conversations. " Eddie's got the 
 ambition in his blood, so let's help him get it out. His 
 father was a pal of mine, and a fine-hearted chap he was, 
 too." 
 
 O'Kelleron had just examined the signpost which noti- 
 fied him he had reached Blackberry Lane when he saw 
 dashing down the road toward him a girl on skis, a small 
 girl, very young, too, he imagined by the flaming color 
 in her cheeks and the fearless blaze of her stone-gray eyes. 
 
 She descended to the level of his position where, once 
 on the flat, she came to a halt. From his great height he 
 impulsively sent her a dazzling smile. For her part she 
 was startled by the sudden encounter with a man of such 
 unusual beauty. Involuntarily her own face dimpled into 
 a feminine response to his. An instant only she main- 
 tained her position. Then she sped away down the next 
 grade, and he came to the conclusion that, although she 
 was very little, she was not such a child after all. She 
 was pretty, though! Yes, by Jove, more than pretty! 
 
 That same evening Madison Pepperday was seated in 
 his den with Patricia on a stool at his feet. 
 
 " My little, little girl," he murmured, " I never would 
 have believed you could have so satisfied your mother 
 about your new venture. She seems entirely reconciled." 
 
 The speaker was tall and superelegant in boyish slen- 
 derness in spite of his fifty years. Only the thick, white 
 hair that covered his head attested that age was creeping 
 upon him. 
 
 " It's more than I can say about myself, though," he 
 continued in a harassed voice. " But I can't see any 
 other way just now."
 
 14 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 She interrupted him by putting an arm around his neck. 
 
 " Oh, my Pater, my dearest dear," she breathed, " I 
 love you better than anyone in the world, and you 
 can have all the money I earn, and I imagine it'll be 
 a lot for a fresh kid from what Mr. Brewer hinted. 
 
 " He said that we children all looked alike, and then I 
 said : ' Well, we're triplets, that's why ! ' and he laughed 
 and said I was to give you his congratulations, and to 
 tell you he wished he had ten sets of three just like us. 
 . . . I thought that was funny, Pater." 
 
 But she did not laugh. Rather did she lapse into the 
 same silence that had fallen upon Madison Pepperday. 
 
 For a long time they sat thus, looking into the log 
 fire. It was at these times, when alone with her father, 
 that Patricia built air castles, and the flames, varying 
 in color from a discernible blue to a luminous yellow, 
 leaping up here suddenly and dying down in another 
 spot into incandescent red embers, wiped away the ache 
 that had hurt her through the family conferences. 
 
 Suddenly she glanced up. 
 
 " Pater," she began, " is there a man living around 
 here anywhere with red hair a man as big as Eddie 
 Blake?" 
 
 Skirting Balmville and its vicinity with his mental eye, 
 the Pater considered a few minutes. 
 
 " I don't know of any," he responded finally. 
 Why? 
 
 " Nothing much/' she answered, turning her pensive 
 gaze back to the grate. " Only I almost ran over a 
 stranger to-day at Blackberry Lane, and I wondered if 
 any new families had meved in. He looked so enormous; 
 why, I believe, he's even bigger than Eddie." 
 
 " There are several house parties in the neighborhood," 
 interrupted Madison. " Christmas parties, you know. 
 Perhaps, he's out for one."
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 15 
 
 " Perhaps," sighed Patricia. " That's very likely it." 
 
 She was secretly ashamed the next morning when she 
 
 recalled her dreams. A big, big man with brilliant red 
 
 hair and golden-brown eyes had smiled at her through 
 
 her sleep-hours.
 
 16 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 The succeeding eight months had erected a massive 
 edifice of experience in stageland for the younger mem- 
 bers of the Pepperday family. As the saying goes, 
 Barney, Michael and Patricia had made good in vaudeville 
 under the sobriquet of the " Golden Pepperdays." In 
 a merry scene at their theatrical baptism Martin Brewer 
 had dubbed them with this appellation. 
 
 Enthusiastic audiences in all the large cities east of 
 Chicago had hailed the triplet trio with unlimited appro- 
 bation; and now, at the beginning of the fall season, 
 Broadway was to be given an opportunity to add her 
 bit to their fame. 
 
 Thus it happened that one afternoon, early in Sep- 
 tember, Patricia sat, waiting in Martin Brewer's reception 
 office in the Candler Building on Forty-second Street. 
 She was enjoying the contents of one of his bulky pam- 
 phlets, and, as she read, she smiled, her fancy caught by 
 the unconventional theme of his thesis. Every sentence 
 was Breweresque. No mind but his could have conceived 
 them, and no pen expressed them but one tipped with 
 universal love. 
 
 During the months she had been associated with the 
 distinguished playwright, she had discovered that he lived 
 always on the high plane of the words under her eyes. 
 
 " The heart of the infinite God brims over with love 
 for all the babies born into this good old world, white 
 babies, red babies and black babies! God love 'em! God 
 bless 'em! God save 'em!" 
 
 Patricia thrilled to her toes. Of course, she believed 
 that, too. Somehow, the sight of a warm, wriggly baby
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 17 
 
 always touched her with an uplifted feeling akin to 
 her response to a glorious strain of music, the sobbing 
 of the fall winds or the roaring of the sea. For the moment 
 she forgot that, not two hundred feet away, Broadway, 
 black with people of her own cult, arteried the city from 
 end to end. Martin's " God love 'em! God bless 'em! 
 God save 'em!" slogan had suggested a picture to her 
 sensitive mind of a vast army of children whose needs 
 were great. 
 
 Her eyes darkened with sympathy. Emotional mo- 
 ments, like these, awakened a memory which she jeal- 
 ously guarded. A gust of wind, a flurry of leaves, a heart 
 appeal, returned her in spirit to Balmville. So often had 
 she pictured a red-haired giant smiling at her in Black- 
 berry Lane that he was now a part of her daily reveries. 
 He had become idealized among the fellow creatures of 
 her intimate world. She had never seen him again and 
 did not expect to, neither had she ever beheld a man like 
 him. She sighed. She was positive that there was no 
 other such invincible figure walking the earth. 
 
 With another long, indrawn breath, she fell again to 
 reading. 
 
 "Subsidize the mothers! Give 'em money; give 'em 
 comforts. Give 'em good food, fresh air, in fact, bless 
 their hearts, give 'em everything they ask for. I say to 
 every man with a heart beneath his ribs: Dig down in 
 your pockets for 'em!" 
 
 Patricia considered a moment. Many of her friends 
 were mothers, and she had discovered in associating with 
 them that, contrary to the world belief that stage women 
 were butterflies, they worked endlessly, passionately, for 
 their youngsters. 
 
 Some of Patricia's sadness was wiped away as the 
 thought of her parents came into her mind. She and her 
 brothers had spent the whole of yesterday with them in
 
 1 8 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 Balmville. She glowed in remembering that the troubled 
 expression had gone from the Pater's face. Out of Mar- 
 tin Brewer's steady upbuilding of broken lives, her father 
 had reconstructed himself in such a manner that he was 
 again venturing into business. Brewer had aided him 
 materially; and Patricia realized that what the manager 
 had done for the Pepperdays was but a small bit of his 
 " God save 'em!" endeavor. 
 
 Once in a while, when she heard the elevator door open 
 in the hall outside, she lifted her eager, dimpled face, and 
 at length, when Brewer entered the room, she sprang up 
 to greet him. 
 
 He was a tall, portly man in the prime of life, florid 
 of complexion and scant of hair. The long years he had 
 been in business in New York, writing and producing 
 plays and managing theaters along the street of bluff 
 and bustle, had etched lines upon his fine countenance 
 in spite of its fullness. 
 
 As he caught sight of the girl's exquisite figure, a flush 
 mounted to his forehead. 
 
 "Ah, Paddy, this is the best ever!" he exclaimed. 
 " I'm sorry I couldn't make the rehearsal to-day. But 
 never mind! You were all perfect in your parts in Bal- 
 timore, so 1 should worry. The fact is, girlie, I've got 
 an excuse that can't be beat. I was looking over a string 
 of kids as long as from here to the Battery." 
 
 Smilingly Patricia walked beside him through several 
 offices where numerous stenographers were occupied at 
 desks and on into a large room with " Mr. Brewer Pri- 
 vate." in black letters across a clouded pane of glass. 
 
 Once the door of his sanctum had been closed behind 
 them, Martin's blue eyes beamed with delight. This was 
 one of the times that he looked younger than his age. 
 Seeing Patricia Pepperday had seemingly reeled back the 
 calendar a good fifteen years.
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 19 
 
 " It's great to have you in New York, Lady Pat," he 
 said warmly. " I'm as tickled as a boy with a new top, 
 and Benny'll jump out of his shoes when he sees you this 
 afternoon. Your work must agree with you, dearie. Sit 
 there where I can shake a happy eyelid at you. Rehearsal 
 went well I suppose? " 
 
 " Splendid," she exulted gaily, dropping into the chair 
 he had drawn up near his work table. " And, Martin, 
 Michael's making the hit of his life as David. People, 
 especially the girls, are wild about him. Isn't he a picture 
 in his shepherd's costume?" 
 
 " Always something doing when the Pepperdays are 
 around," supplemented Brewer promptly. " Great kids, 
 both your brothers! Two fine boys, Barney and Mike!" 
 
 Then his confident smile of ready acquiescence fell 
 away into long, troubled lines. An image of another 
 young man, his son, his only child in fact, had framed 
 itself in his mind beside the Pepperdays. At the age of 
 six, Benny Brewer had fallen from a tree and injured 
 his back. For weeks he had hung between life and death, 
 his father in frantic anxiety summoning surgical experts 
 from every corner of the continent. Then, after weary 
 months of torture, Benny had left his bed, the pallid 
 shadow of his former self. 
 
 The smile trembled away from Patricia's lips. She 
 had seen the gloom wipe the laughter out of her com- 
 panion's blue eyes, and she knew the cause of his inner 
 anguish. 
 
 " Martin," she ventured, " I know what you are think- 
 ing about." 
 
 " Of course you do! Een's on my mind most every 
 minute. But I'll be jiggered if that doesn't give me a 
 chance to give you a pointer or two, Lady Pat." 
 
 Supporting her chin in the palm of her hand, Patricia 
 bent forward uneasily.
 
 20 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 " I always preach, Paddy," he began, " that, even if 
 one's unhappy, it helps a lot to smile. It's gospel truth 
 that you can't think of your troubles with a good, wide 
 grin on! That's what I do when I'm with Ben, and I 
 want you to do the same thing. See? 
 
 " Now, if I come across a sick, hungry baby, do I go 
 around, mollygrubbing, seeing him always ill? I do not! 
 I hotfoot at him and stuff his empty stomach. Then I 
 tickle him up a bit, and, by golly, he's soon as fat as a 
 sausage." 
 
 " But I'm so sorry for Benny, Martin," murmured Pa- 
 tricia. 
 
 "Of course you are, sweet child! Your heart's as 
 tender as a Christmas pudding, but you mustn't let Ben 
 see how you feel. He's going to get well, that boy! Just 
 how I don't know yet, but pitying him makes him a 
 thousand times worse." 
 
 " Aunt Addie says that, too," she admitted slowly. 
 " She says: 'Never think anything but good for yourself 
 and the people you love, no matter what's ailing them.' 
 I'm trying to do that about Michael, Martin. Oh dear, 
 it seems the more you care for a person, the more you 
 worry about him." 
 
 " Anything wrong with Mike?" 
 
 "Mercy no!" she replied in swift contradiction. "I 
 suppose I'm a little jealous. No, I'm not when I really 
 think about it. But the way some of the girls hang 
 around him makes me disgusted. I tell you, Barney sees 
 through their maneuvers almost before they start 'em." 
 
 Brewer puffed his cigar to a glowing end as he studied 
 her bonny face. To-day he felt more deeply stirred at 
 her close proximity than ever before. How very lovely 
 she was! How artistically fashioned, her small hands; 
 and their movements tempted him to caress them, but 
 instead he smiled at her and changed the subject.
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 21 
 
 " Like it at Cavendish's, Paddy?" 
 
 " Yes, it's quite like home," she told him. " When we 
 came in, we found Fatty Brown, Billy and Milly Foster 
 there. You know they were at Cavendish's last winter 
 while we were rehearsing, and we've met them in nearly 
 every town " At this juncture she became aware 
 of the incurious expression on her companion's face. 
 " Anything on your mind, Martin?" she asked. " You're 
 not in the least bit interested in what I'm telling you." 
 
 He looked at her an appreciable time before he agreed. 
 
 "Yes! I have something on my mind. Seeing you 
 here, Lady Pat, has brought me to a show-down. I 
 can't shoot fancy stuff in everyday life, such as I stick 
 in my plays, but I'm going to give you an earful, dearie, 
 straight off. Will you marry me? Right away, Paddy, 
 the sooner, the better!" 
 
 So unexpected was his question that it took her quite 
 off her guard. 
 
 " Why, Martin, you mustn't make love to me," she 
 expostulated, embarrassed. " We're just chums, you and 
 I. But, of course, I couldn't I couldn't marry you ! Of 
 course, I Why you could marry the most beautiful 
 woman in the world!" 
 
 " Lord, Pat, I deal with women all the time," Martin 
 protested vigorously, " and most of 'em, if they have any 
 chance at all, top men head and heels, but a fellow can't 
 fall in love with more than one. Now with me, it's you, 
 my dear! I've loved you since first I popped my eyes 
 on you, back there before you went on the stage. Why 
 why" 
 
 " Martin," she interjected, a burning flush suffusing 
 her cheeks and brow, " you mustn't think of me like that. 
 I'm only your girl pal and always will be!" 
 
 Her hands came together in an appealing clasp. 
 
 Throwing away the stub of his cigar, Brewer rested
 
 22 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 both arms on the desk and brought the tips of his large 
 fingers together, revolving one thumb over and over the 
 other. When the manager twiddled his thumbs, his 
 intimate friends knew he was nervous. 
 
 " Maybe, it does seem queer for a fellow like me to 
 want to marry a youngster like you," he persisted after 
 a quiet moment, " but my spirit isn't old in spite of my 
 years, lambkin. And, goodness me, Paddy girl, I can't 
 see any other woman and won't as long as you're on earth. 
 You can have me and all Poor Kiddie, have I scared 
 the life almost out of you? Well, I didn't intend to at all ; 
 but think about it a while. You don't have to say 
 1 Yes! ' bang off. The thought's kind of new" 
 
 The knock that checked his speech was a relief to 
 Patricia. It took an instant for Brewer to regain his 
 self-control; then, " Come in," he called, and, " What is 
 it, Claude?" he asked of his secretary who opened the 
 door. 
 
 " Mrs. Clark's here by appointment to see you, sir!" 
 
 Brewer passed his handkerchief across his face. 
 
 " I forgot all about her," he mumbled to himself. " All 
 right, Claude, ask her in, and say, old man, I'm going 
 home after a minute, and if anything important comes 
 up, give me a ring. . . . No, sit still, Miss Pepperday. 
 You don't have to rush; Mrs. Clark won't keep me long, 
 and it's nothing of a private nature." 
 
 Womanlike, Patricia took in at a glance the distin- 
 guished appearance of the stranger who swept into the 
 office. She was very good looking and smartly dressed. 
 She had all the earmarks of a society woman with a 
 " mission." 
 
 " Mrs. Clark, Miss Pepperday," introduced Brewer, 
 after he had shaken hands with his visitor. " Do be 
 seated, Nancy! How's Patrick to-day?" 
 
 " He's very well," was the response, " but he's been
 
 23 
 
 so busy lately, since he became attached to the District 
 Attorney's office, that I've scarcely had a glimpse of him." 
 
 " I met your husband on the street a while ago," Martin 
 remarked conversationally. " He looks as if the world 
 were treating him squarely." 
 
 A fretful expression passed over Mrs. Clark's counte- 
 nance. 
 
 . " I left Alexander in bed with a headache," she com- 
 mented dryly. " He said he wasn't going to leave the 
 house to-day." 
 
 The manager perceived that he had, as he himself 
 would have described it, opened his mouth and put his 
 foot in it. 
 
 " Perhaps, he was called out," he offered as an excuse 
 to rectify his mistake. 
 
 " Perhaps!" with a shrug, " but these men " 
 
 " They're great brutes, aren't they, Nancy?" grinned 
 Brewer. " I fight 'em tooth and nail, myself. I don't 
 see how women stand 'em around." 
 
 For years Nancy Clark had been acquainted with this 
 genial Broadway idol, and she did not approve of him 
 at all. 
 
 " I don't wish to intrude, Martin," she observed, eyeing 
 him with suspicion, " so I'll make haste to tell you why 
 I came." 
 
 Then she glanced at Miss Pepperday, and that young 
 person was persuaded that her presence in the play- 
 wright's office was not looked upon with approbation. 
 
 " No intrusion, Nance," exclaimed Brewer. " You 
 know that as well as I do." 
 
 " Thanks, but I thought as long as I had fixed an hour 
 to see you, you'd make arrangements not to be busy," 
 laying stress on her words. " But then its public property, 
 so I might as well speak out. Martin, do you know that 
 I'm president of our 'Social Welfare League?' "
 
 24 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 " Yes, I believe Pat did mention it," nodded Brewer. 
 
 " My son won't interest himself at all in the most 
 vital questions of the day, and, while I dislike to say it, 
 I know the blame for that, Martin, lies at your door. 
 I fear that you are not at all familiar with the aims of 
 our society, are you?" 
 
 "Somewhat!" 
 
 Patricia scarcely recognized the cold, monosyllabic tone. 
 If he had spoken to her thus, she would have shriveled 
 into nothingness, but, undaunted, Mrs. Clark proceeded: 
 
 "Well, to come to the point then, we wish you to cease 
 your broadcast distribution of money to women who sin. 
 I've asked Patrick to talk to you about it, but he told me 
 he absolutely approved of your work. Strange that a 
 boy of mine should close his eyes to loose morals." 
 She sent one hasty glance at the quiet girl. " I presume 
 it's his association with stage people. . . ." 
 
 As though in protestation, Brewer lifted his hand. 
 
 " You're treading on my toes, Nancy," he said, " and 
 it hurts." 
 
 " I regret that I'm forced to speak in such a way to 
 a friend of Patrick's," she retorted, flushing. ." But right's 
 right, and wrong's wrong! You encourage crime, Martin, 
 immorality and all kinds of evils." 
 
 " I don't agree with you," came the swift denial. 
 
 " Evidently, or you wouldn't do it. However, the 
 League sent me here to ask you to withdraw that ridic- 
 ulous circular. . . ." 
 
 " What? The ( God save 'em!' one?" queried Brewer, 
 and he laughed. 
 
 In Mrs. Clark's estimation it was not time for levity; so 
 she squared her shoulders. 
 
 " Can't you see that helping such creatures only gives 
 them a chance to go on and do worse, Martin?" she asked. 
 
 " No, I can't see it, my dear Nancy," asserted Brewer,
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 25 
 
 without weighing the question, " or any part of it. No 
 woman is a creature, no matter what she's done. And 
 the fact is that ninety-nine per cent of those we help 
 are as honestly married as you are. Now you have chosen 
 your work, Nance, and I don't interfere with it. I might, 
 you know. I could come out publicly against you, but 
 I believe in minding my own business, and I'm doing it, 
 too." 
 
 Never had Patricia seen Martin look as he did then; 
 his eyes flashed, and she was fired with pride by his dig- 
 nity and earnestness. But, thoroughly incensed, Mrs. 
 Clark rose to her feet. 
 
 " Patrick warned me I would be casting my pearls," 
 she said haughtily. " Well, I hope you won't see the day 
 you'll regret your connection with the stage and the po- 
 sition you've taken toward society." 
 
 " It might just happen, Nancy, dear woman," Brewer 
 told her, rising, " that sometime you'll have cause to be 
 glad with me. Good-afternoon! Come again whenever 
 you like. 
 
 " See how I get it on all sides, Lady Pat," he chuckled, 
 as the door closed on his caller. " Now, that's as good 
 a woman as ever breathed the breath of life. The only 
 trouble with her is, that she's got the notion she's God 
 Almighty's daughter-in-law. But she can't tumble over 
 what I do, thank Heaven! 
 
 " And me, well, dearie, people don't seem to realize 
 just what a woman means to this world. Why, in my 
 next evolution, I'm going to switch my gender, and I'll 
 have twenty children and subsidize myself, by ginger!"
 
 26 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 A SHORT time later the Brewer limousine drew up before 
 a house on Forty-eighth Street between Fifth and 
 Sixth avenues. Brewer opened the door, stepped out 
 and helped Patricia to alight. 
 
 " I'll be back before you know it," she said. " I only 
 want to speak to Michael a minute." 
 
 The manager climbed back into the automobile to wait, 
 as she disappeared into the house. 
 
 " Mrs. Cavendish, did my father phone me while 
 I was out?" Patricia called down the basement stairs. 
 
 A thin young girl with a parrot on her shoulder scuttled 
 into view from the dark corridor below. 
 
 " Any messages, Fancy dear?" asked Miss Pepperday. 
 
 " Fancy dear," repeated the parrot. " Aw, Fan, is 
 breakfast ready? Hello, Fan!" 
 
 " You're a saucy boy, George Cavendish," laughed 
 Patricia. " Here, George, here's candy! Catch it! Why, 
 hel snapped it right out of the air, Fancy ! Oh, you smart 
 old bird! Did anyone telephone me, Fannie child?" 
 
 Fancy Cavendish was a small, weak-minded creature 
 with pale, expressionless blue eyes and light hair which 
 was combed back without wave or ringlet from a brow 
 rather too high and narrow. 
 
 " Yes, Miss Paddy," she replied, " your dad rung you 
 up, and he's comin' in about dinner time. He said if 
 you'd put off feedin' till he got here, he'd eat along with 
 you." 
 
 Having imparted this, she began to climb the stairs, 
 the parrot swaying to and fro, pecking at her face. 
 
 " George's awful bad to-day," she told Patricia as she
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 27 
 
 squatted on the top step. " Ma's wished him to the devil 
 four times since mornin'. Babe Foster 'phoned in for 
 her brother, too, but I wouldn't tell him about it, I 
 wouldn't!" 
 
 " But that wasn't right, Fancy dear! She might want 
 Billy to bring something to the theater for her. Perhaps, 
 she isn't coming home until after the show." 
 
 " I don't care if she ain't! Why should I care?" 
 harangued Fancy. "I hate 'er! She's always firin' 
 George and me out of Bill's room the minute I stick my 
 nose inside. Listen, while I tell you something, Miss 
 Paddy. Bill's goin' to get married to me some day, 
 maybe, to-morrow." 
 
 " Billy's a crook," croaked the bird, sotto voice. 
 
 " George heard Ma say that, " sniffed Fancy. " Ma's 
 dirt mean when she wants to be, which is most of the 
 time, and she's got it in her bean Billy Foster's a wicked 
 nut, but he ain't, or I wouldn't marry 'im." 
 
 " Girlie, you shouldn't say such things," chided Patricia. 
 " Mr. Foster wouldn't like it if he heard you." 
 
 " Yes, he would, too, because he has. He's asked 
 me to kiss 'im many a time, but George 'd gouge his eyes 
 out if he touched me. I know something else, too. It's 
 about your Michael!" 
 
 Sudden interest lighted up Patricia's face. 
 
 " Michael? What about Michael, Fancy?" she queried. 
 " Tell me, like a good girl." 
 
 A quick look thrown over her shoulder informed Fancy 
 that her mother was out of hearing. 
 
 " He wants to get married with Millie Foster," she 
 hissed sibilantly. " I heard 'im sparkin' her when they 
 didn't know anyone was around. Another thing: Milly 
 doesn't like Mike half as well as she does Fatty Funny 
 Breeches. I saw 'er hug 'im once. She loves Fatty like 
 I do Billy."
 
 28 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 As she said this, her pale blue eyes twitched, and her 
 face flamed crimson. 
 
 " Well, I wouldn't talk about it, Fan dear," advised 
 Patricia. " Don't you remember all the nice things I 
 told you when I was here last?" 
 
 " Yes, I remember 'em, ma'am," nodded Fancy, " and 
 George knows some of 'em, too. Every night I make 'im 
 say : ' Now I lay me down to sleep/ and and I always 
 ask God to gimme Billy!" 
 
 A harsh voice, calling her name from the basement, set 
 the young speaker all a-tremble. 
 
 " That's Ma," she ejaculated, shivering. 
 
 "Aw, Fan! Ma's under jaw wags! Haw, haw!" jab- 
 bered the parrot. 
 
 At that moment a large, angular woman appeared be- 
 low stairs. 
 
 " Fancy, bring that pesky blatherskite down here. I'll 
 teach him to gibble-gabble about my underjaw. Didn't 
 I tell you not to be chasm' upstairs with 'im?" 
 
 With a flip of her apron, Fancy blindfolded the bird. 
 
 " Keep your mouth shut, you idiot," she muttered, 
 " or I'll poke you one in the face. . . . He says over 
 everything he hears, Miss Paddy. Sassy bird!" 
 
 " Never mind, honey! Run on down! Hurry! Then 
 you won't get a slap," and Patricia sped on her way 
 upstairs. 
 
 A seriousness had taken the curve from her lips as 
 she opened her sitting-room door. A tall, handsome boy 
 grinned her a greeting. 
 
 " Glance at that, Pat," he cried gleefully, spreading out 
 a newspaper. " There's your countenance, my princess. 
 What do you think of it? Say, aren't you a beauty, 
 though? Lovely enough to be on a soap poster, by 
 cracky!" 
 
 An expression of adoration swept across the girl's face,
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 29 
 
 and her glorious gray eyes seemed to devour the boy's 
 comeliness. 
 
 "Oh, you darling," she gurgled, and then: "Now, 
 don't be foolish, Michael dear, for, if I'm a beauty, so 
 are you! Let me see! Isn't it great, Mike? It's the 
 biggest picture I've ever had published." 
 
 " ' The " Golden Pepperdays " are in New York,' " Mi- 
 chael began to read aloud over her shoulder with great 
 gusto. " * Beautiful Patricia Pepperday, with her broth- 
 ers, Barney and Michael Pepperday, will make her first 
 appearance in New York before a Labor Day audience 
 at the Hypo Theater in a new act, written by Martin 
 Brewer. The Pepperday brothers and sister are triplets, 
 and out-of-town newspapers have not been sparing in 
 their praise of the trio. Miss Pepperday plays the part of 
 Truth, and her brother, Michael, the role of David, the 
 shepherd boy. The act is called: "The Streams make 
 Glad," and is said by those who have seen it to be one 
 of the most brilliant Biblical allegories ever written." 
 
 "Some review, eh, sis?" chuckled Michael. "Mart 
 touched the pulse of the press to get that! I'm going 
 to chop it out and give it to the Pater to take home to 
 Yum-yum and Aunt Addie. They'll burst with pride, 
 I bet. I've been sitting here, making love to it for an 
 hour. You're some bright bird, my love, eh?" 
 
 He quizzed her laughingly, putting around her one big 
 arm. For the moment she lay against him, she rev- 
 eled in the size of him, in the strength of him and 
 in the wondrous love of him. In her estimation he was 
 the epitome of all manhood's graces, and that was why 
 she had dubbed him " King," a king with ebony curls 
 and eyes softly luminous in happiness, but as sand-gray 
 as her own were sand-gray when anger burned within 
 him. 
 
 "Honey, I'm going to drive uptown with Martin to
 
 3 o THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 see Benny," she said presently, drawing away. " But 
 before I go, I want to ask you something." 
 
 " All right, Pat! I'm all ears, like a jack rabbit." 
 
 While she was tucking a curl into place, she studied 
 his impudent, smiling countenance. 
 
 " Mike, you know I don't like to butt into your busi- 
 ness," she commenced hesitantly. " I " 
 
 In good nature Michael guffawed her to silence. 
 
 " I don't care if you do, sis," he interjected. " Now 
 what have I done to displease your ladyship? You're as 
 grave as a judge." 
 
 " Did did you ask Milly Foster to marry you, Mi- 
 chael?" 
 
 The question related to the only intimate, tender pas- 
 sion of Michael's life. His levity vanished, and his brow 
 contracted in a frown. 
 
 " About fifty times," he confessed slowly, " perhaps, 
 more! But you knew I loved her, Paddy!" 
 
 " No, Miky, I didn't," came in quick contradiction. 
 " I knew she always managed to wheedle herself into our 
 parties on the road, and, of course, I was positive that she 
 was head over heels in love with you. That was evident 
 when we were here last winter." 
 
 Boyishly Michael marked out a figure in the rug with 
 the toe of his shoe. 
 
 " Well, there's no need for you to worry about it, 
 Paddy," he grumbled. "If I've asked her fifty times, 
 she's refused me as many. She doesn't give a rap for 
 me not one single rap! I had to beg her almost on 
 my knees to go to supper with me to-night." 
 
 The sister in her righteous anger felt a sudden impulse 
 to enlighten her brother with the fact that Miss Foster's 
 tactics had been learned in the hard school of experience. 
 Patricia knew that the most willing woman was often 
 most unwilling to manifest her willingness.
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 31 
 
 " I hoped you'd go with Martin and me to supper," 
 was what she said. " And Milly 's got her nerve with 
 her to make you plead " Then she laughed. " At 
 least I'm glad you're not engaged to her, dear. Things 
 might be worse! Be careful of the fifty-first time, 
 though, Michael. Milly's a vamp! . . . There, dar- 
 ling, I didn't mean to hurt you or be catty. Give me a 
 kiss, and good-by until dinner time." 
 
 On the stairs, going down, Patricia met a smiling, 
 obese youth who made a funny grimace at her. She 
 burst out laughing as he leaned against the wall and 
 allowed one lid to droop over its dark eye. 
 
 " Just my luck to have you going out when I'm coming 
 in, lady mine," he remarked, wrinkling his good-natured 
 face. " I saw Brewer outside. Does that say he's wait- 
 ing for you?" 
 
 " I guess it does, Arthur," she rejoined. " Mercy 
 me, you're getting fatter by the minute." 
 
 " Me fat's me fortune, me dear," he stated, attempting 
 to assume a tragic attitude. " Where's Milly? Seen 
 her?" 
 
 Arthur Brown, whose friends called him " Fatty Funny 
 Breeches," was the comedian in the Foster, Brown and 
 Foster skit; and well might the lad be nicknamed 
 " Fatty!" His chin was repeated several times in large 
 rolls of flesh that well-nigh overwhelmed his collar. 
 
 " She's out, but Michael's in," responded Patricia. 
 "Why, what's the matter, Artie? You look like a thunder 
 cloud. It isn't becoming that pout and frown!" 
 
 " Well, Pat, the truth is Mike isn't treating me square," 
 he growled, straightening. " He knows I'm as good as 
 engaged to Milly, and he's always butting in just when 
 I don't want 'im. He's monopolized her in every town 
 where we've happened to play together, and now he's 
 started in here. I don't like it, and I shan't mind if you
 
 32 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 tell 'im so. I'll crack his topknot some of these days 
 if he doesn't take care." 
 
 "Goodness me, don't do that," uttered Patricia, " you 
 might hurt him, but I'll tell you what I would do, if I 
 were you." 
 
 With what grace he could muster, Brown salaamed 
 low. 
 
 " On with your advice, little one," he drawled. " You 
 know the old saying, ' out of the mouths of babes ' ' 
 
 " Don't be stupid, Arthur," she interrupted, laughing. 
 " But, if you really want my advice, here it is: Kidnap 
 Milly and marry her before she knows what's happened 
 to her. That's the only way you'll ever get her!"
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 33 
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 SOME three or four years had run their course since 
 Martin Brewer had erected a mansion on upper Fifth 
 Avenue. From its corner stone to its octagonal tower the 
 dwelling was one of grandeur. The man's own tastes 
 were simple, but to make living in the world more enjoy- 
 able for his son, Benjamin, he would have gone to utmost 
 lengths or squandered any amount of money. 
 
 Running under the observatory from east to west, also 
 facing the north and south, were the lad's apartments. 
 There were several small rooms and galleries which opened 
 into and looked down upon a large studio, which was 
 furnished in an artistic, up-to-date style. A wealth of 
 pictures hung on the walls, and objects of art stood here 
 and there among rare pieces of furniture. Beautiful 
 rugs, the choicest weaves of the Orient, hushed every 
 footfall. All across one end stretched the highly ornate 
 pipes of a great organ. 
 
 As Patricia and Martin reached the last flight of stairs, 
 leading to the top of the house, they paused. Benny 
 was playing, and they stood quietly until the organ 
 notes died to silence. 
 
 " Wasn't that gorgeous?" whispered the fond father 
 ecstatically. " Now, wait just a second, girlie, and we'll 
 surprise him. I didn't tell him you were coming to-day. 
 
 " Sonny! " he called softly as he advanced into the room. 
 
 From the organ bench Benny slid to the floor. At the 
 first glance, if only his height had been considered, one 
 might have imagined him no more than fourteen years 
 old; but a full view of him would have dispelled that 
 illusion. A tousled-haired head in which burned eyes of
 
 34 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 startling beauty, topped thin shoulders that sagged for- 
 ward weakly. Long ago, Martin had plumbed the depth 
 of his son's emotional soul; at times it was rich with 
 kindliness, at others moody with unhappy genius. Endur- 
 ance of great suffering had threaded his youthful counte- 
 nance with fretful lines that reached to the corners of 
 his mouth. 
 
 As he moved toward his father, his face wore a sorrow- 
 ful, questioning expression. 
 
 " I didn't expect you back until dinner time, dad, but 
 I'm glad you're here," he said in throaty tones. "I can 
 hardly stand it alone, nowadays, even though I have my 
 organ." 
 
 The dreary way in which the words were uttered 
 fetched a groan from the innermost depths of Martin 
 Brewer's being, but he smiled bravely as his arms fell 
 across his son's shoulders. Then they sat down side by 
 side on a carved oaken bench. Suddenly the man 
 squared Benny around and looked at him. 
 
 "Ah," he ejaculated, "you've been moping again! 
 Come, Come! We can't have that! . . . Look who's 
 here, Ben! " 
 
 At the sight of the smiling Patricia, stepping from 
 behind the velvet door hangings, Benny's face underwent 
 a series of rapid transformations. The shock of seeing 
 her sent the blood from its surface; then his heart, re- 
 sponding joyously, drove the red back to burn his cheeks 
 and lift the brooding lines about his lips. 
 
 " Paddy, Lady Pat," he glowed. " Gee, but I'm glad! 
 I thought I thought, maybe, you weren't coming to 
 see me." 
 
 " Ridiculous, Benny!" she laughed. " We struck town 
 only night before last, and yesterday morning, of course, 
 we went to Balmville. To-day so far I've been busy 
 with rehearsal. So you see I'm here my first free mo-
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 35 
 
 ment. Your good daddy fixed us a turn at the Hypo, 
 Benny. And you're coming to-night to give us a fine 
 send-off." 
 
 " Ah, there's the telephone," exclaimed Martin, spring- 
 ing up. " I'll breeze back in a minute, kids! " and he 
 hurried out of the room. 
 
 " Sit over here beside me, Paddy," entreated Benny, 
 placing his fingers on the spot his father had vacated. 
 
 Quite at home, Patricia took the proffered seat. 
 
 " Well, what have you been doing all the time I've 
 been gone, Ben?" she asked. 
 
 " Nothing to speak of. I don't have much to do 
 with people, you see. I've had my books, my pictures, 
 my music and my dreams. I've loved getting your letters, 
 though. But but I've been mighty lonesome sometimes, 
 Paddy dear!" 
 
 As he ceased speaking, Patricia was conscious of a 
 pang of sympathy, but, remembering his father's warning, 
 she did not express what was in her mind. What splen- 
 did opportunities life offered Michael and Barney just 
 because they were strong, vital and good-looking! 
 
 " But you really ought to go out a lot, Benny," she 
 said, putting her hand on his. " It would do you a heap 
 of good." 
 
 Startled, he caught hold of her arm. Unknown to 
 any other human being, Benny had set up a shrine in 
 his heart for Patricia Pepperday, fixing her high in his 
 holy of holies and worshipping her there to the exclusion 
 of almost every other occupation and emotion. 
 
 " Lady Pat," he choked, " Paddy dear, do you care 
 about me at all? Do you think you could Could 
 you like me a little? Will you marry me, Paddy?" 
 
 Before she could get her breath to answer, Martin 
 swept into the room, a spectacle of smiling satisfaction. 
 
 " Had a fine chin over the telephone with Pat O'Kel-
 
 36 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 leron, Ben," he remarked. " He's running up for dinner. 
 He's in the District Attorney's office and is the son of that 
 Mrs. Clark you met to-day, Lady Pat, and a corking, 
 fine fellow. ..." 
 
 Then he came to a sudden stop, conscious, somehow, 
 that he was intruding. 
 
 " I've been asking Patricia to marry me," stated Benny. 
 Then at his own temerity hot blood dyed his skin but 
 fled away again, leaving it quite waxen. " You came 
 just in time to prevent her answering me, father." 
 
 Patricia threw an imploring glance at the man who 
 was standing as if rooted to the spot. He swallowed 
 several times before he could speak, then he said quietly: 
 
 " I'll go out again then, son!" 
 
 " No, no, Martin," Patricia interposed. " Come over 
 here and sit down. I want you to talk to us." 
 
 Reluctantly Brewer crossed the room. He suddenly 
 felt very old. Oh, to have saved Benny from this, from 
 the heart agony he realized the boy would endure ! A 
 feeling of helplessness depressed him; but in obedience 
 to Patricia's desire, he sat down and waited for the next 
 development of what seemed to him a veritable nightmare. 
 It came upon him like a thunder clap that he had done 
 his unfortunate son a terrible wrong by reason of the in- 
 dulgent care with which he had surrounded him. The 
 lad was utterly unfitted to cope with disappointments. 
 Accustomed to having all his wishes anticipated, Benny 
 was now to be denied the one thing upon which he had 
 set his heart. 
 
 The silence had become keenly oppressive before 
 Patricia ventured at length : 
 
 " I can't marry any one now, Martin. You know 
 that ! Benny, you see, I have my little mother and the 
 Pater; and I must stay with the boys until they're both 
 well on their feet."
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 37 
 
 In deep dejection Brewer listened. Was she merely 
 making it easier for Benny, or did she mean that, if she 
 had not so many burdens, she would really marry him? 
 
 He glanced from her to his son. How white he was! 
 Benny and he loved the same woman ! Yes, only that 
 morning he had told himself his life would be ruined if 
 Patricia refused to spend it with him. Now, he felt 
 Benny must have her at whatever cost to himself. 
 
 " If taking care of your family's holding you back from 
 marrying Ben, Pat," he said, " then don't let it. There's 
 enough Brewer money for all of us, and Ben and I'll give 
 you this house for your very own." 
 
 The assurance in his tones dispelled the bewilderment 
 from Patricia's mind. 
 
 " But I don't want it," she faltered. It's " 
 
 " Dad, she's got to love me," interrupted Benny vio- 
 lently. "Oh, she's got to! She refused me because 
 Oh, God! because I'm as messed up as hell! " 
 
 " Benny, lad," the father entreated, then he checked 
 himself. He had no word of comfort no promise to give 
 his afflicted child. 
 
 " It isn't that at all, Benny," choked Patricia, rising. 
 " I just can't get married! Not yet! Oh, Benny, for- 
 give me! ... Martin, I'm going home." 
 
 " But I don't want you to, Pat," protested Martin. 
 " Come on and stay to dinner. Please do! Ben'll buck 
 up and not make you sad any more. Won't you, son? I 
 asked Patrick O'Kelleron to dinner purposely to meet 
 you, Patricia." 
 
 How many times afterward when life and love and life's 
 and love's possibilities seemed crushed beyond reconstruc- 
 tion did Patricia wish she had stayed! 
 
 " But I must go," she insisted. " The Pater's coming." 
 
 " All right, then," assented Brewer. " Ask Jackson to 
 drive you down. . . . I'm awful sorry about it, dearie! "
 
 38 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 When they were alone, Martin cradled his son in his 
 arms, crooning over him as tenderly as a mother would 
 over an infant. 
 
 " Benny," he began after a while, " don't feel this way. 
 You're knocking the stuff all out of me. Your dad'd give 
 his life for you, old dear ! " 
 
 " But what good would that do?" sobbed the boy. " I 
 only want Lady Pat! I want her to love me to marry 
 me! You've got to make her marry me, father. You 
 hear? You hear! " 
 
 The man remained silent so long that the lad lifted his 
 head and looked at him. Then blue eyes pierced the 
 depths of dark eyes for the length of time it took Brewer 
 to decide to bare his own wound to lessen his son's pain. 
 
 " Ben," he hesitated," I'll tell you something, and 
 I hope it'll make you feel easier." 
 
 " Nothing anybody could say'd help me," wailed Benny. 
 
 Unheeding this, Martin muttered: 
 
 "I I asked Patricia to marry me to-day myself 
 dear boy." 
 
 " Oh," gulped Benny. 
 
 " And she refused me point blank without near the 
 courtesy she showed you, Ben," Martin imparted slowly. 
 " She didn't even give me any excuse whatever. She 
 just said, ' I won't, Martin,' and that was all. There, son, 
 there, there! Lady Pat's so all-fired lovely that she 
 gets the heart of every man who pipes her with half 
 an eye."
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 39 
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 THAT evening at nine o'clock Edward Blake wended 
 his way through the dark aisle of the Hypo Theater, his 
 teeth on edge and his spirit in an angry mood. He had 
 flung himself into one of those fits of temper that came 
 upon him whenever he allowed his mind to dwell on 
 Patricia Pepperday. 
 
 As he took his seat, a slight sneer crossed his lips. 
 Placards, which property men were just hanging in con- 
 spicuous positions, bore the announcement: 
 
 THE GOLDEN PEPPERDAYS 
 
 IN 
 
 THE STREAMS MAKE GLAD 
 
 BY 
 
 MARTIN BREWER 
 
 Ridiculous! Simply foolhardy for a writer even of 
 Brewer's popularity to try and poke down the throats of 
 pleasure-loving New York his fanatical, religious ideas! 
 Blake conceded that religion was all right between the 
 covers of the Bible, but for vaudeville bah! It was 
 not just to Patricia, either, to force her to appear in 
 anything but the best. 
 
 While the orchestra played an entr'acte selection, the 
 man recounted his failures with her and cursed his own 
 stupidity. He might have known he could not buy a girl 
 of her fine sensibilities. Too late he had arrived at 
 the realization that he, himself, Edward Blake, clever, 
 astute and brilliant, had thrust into Madison Pepperday's
 
 40 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 hands the club with which Patricia had thrashed him 
 effectually out of her life. She had been ruthless about it, 
 too, the lovely witch! 
 
 He sighed as he remembered how relentless she had 
 been when he had implored her to have faith in his pro- 
 testations of reform. 
 
 No, she considered the affair none of hers when he 
 threatened to drink himself to death! And, thank you, 
 she did not wish the Pater to be under any obligations to 
 him. If they happened to meet in public, she delivered 
 him the haughtiest of curt nods and spoke to him only 
 when it was absolutely unavoidable. 
 
 Blake's attention was turned from these bitter medita- 
 tions by the rise of the curtain, revealing a setting in which 
 he recognized instantly Martin Brewer's genius. His 
 fury was increased when he caught sight of that gentleman 
 and Madison Pepperday in the proscenium box to his 
 left. It added to his dissatisfaction, too, on observing 
 that Madison appeared as though he had never had a care 
 in the world. Barbed with hate and infuriated at his own 
 ineptitude, Blake turned his eyes back to the stage. 
 
 The back drop, a masterpiece in color, represented a 
 mountain in Judea over which a river wound its way, 
 like a broad band of silver. A delicate vapor rose 
 from it and was drawn gently into the clouds. Only 
 Martin Brewer could have invented the actuality of that 
 sky line and edged those clouds with a warmth of crimson 
 as if the sun were just beneath the horizon. A valley, 
 flower-bedecked and tree-shaded, spread over the stage. 
 A half-dozen sheep browsed in contentment at the foot of 
 the mountain. 
 
 Then suddenly the small body of a girl was tossed out 
 from the river's foam to a bed of purple-eyed violets. She 
 was clad in simple white. Blue-black hair curled loosely 
 about her face, and her dimpled, bare feet were sparkling
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 41 
 
 with drops of spray. She lay very still, her lovely face 
 peaceful in sleep. 
 
 " God, but I've got to have her," groaned Blake. 
 
 When Michael Pepperday, garbed as the shepherd, 
 David, stepped out from the shadowy wings and began his 
 song, Edward Blake leaned forward and held his breath. 
 He had not realized at all the beauty of thje lad. Surely 
 the God of Israel, to whom the youthful herder sang, had 
 crowned him, a superb figure, there among the greens and 
 golds of his sheep lands. 
 
 David sang to his hills, and he sang to his river, until 
 Truth stirred in her sleep. Then she quietly sat up and 
 smiled at him. Inspired by her presence to high en- 
 deavor, he recited with a spontaneous burst of melody the 
 mighty phrases which Martin Brewer had gleaned from 
 Holy Writ. 
 
 As the play advanced, Blake's admiration leaped to 
 meet the dignity of the Biblical allegory. Who but a 
 Brewer would have dared to stage it in a music hall? Who 
 save Patricia Pepperday could have created the role of 
 God's eternal Truth, and who but Michael portray the 
 innocence of the mountain-born child? 
 
 And Barney Pepperday, clad in purple to his feet, made 
 a magnificent " Mr. Worldly Wise Man," singing of the 
 decadent glories of the sensuous kingdoms outside! 
 
 Tensely emotional, Blake dropped his lids. The 
 Pepperdays had scored along with Martin Brewer! 
 
 When he looked again at the stage, Barney was 
 triumphantly silent. David was face-down on the grass, 
 and the little figure of Truth was bending over him. 
 
 The curtain descended slowly amid a silence that 
 seemed to last for minutes. Then wild enthusiasm from 
 the audience sent it up again, to show the shepherd's 
 curly head held against Truth's breast. Then, as though 
 she would rear a wall of harmony between him and the
 
 42 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 tempter, she began to sing: " There is a River, the 
 Streams whereof shall make Glad the City of God." 
 
 When Patricia's voice ceased, the house rocked with 
 applause. 
 
 Blake looked toward Brewer's box. He knew by the 
 expressions of the two men how profoundly stirred they 
 were. He caught sight of Benny Brewer's tearful, white 
 countenance, and exultation thrilled him to his toes. The 
 puny boy was the great author's soul-thorn, the sting of 
 which even Patricia Pepperday could not ease. He was 
 glad of that glad, glad, glad! 
 
 Yet he experienced the cutting pangs of jealousy when 
 he heard," Brewer Martin Brewer! " roared upwards to 
 the great dome. He saw Patricia trip forward, her hands 
 extended to the playwright. With jaundiced eyes he 
 stared at her as the man stepped from the box to the stage. 
 
 Then Barney in his splendid purple array, boyishly 
 smiling, joined them, and with one sweep Brewer gathered 
 the Pepperday triplets within his embrace. 
 
 An avalanche of tribute rolled from the balcony over 
 Blake's head down through the orchestra circle and 
 thundered over the footlights. Like its snowy prototype, 
 the noise died away completely. 
 
 Then into that breathless quiet, Martin spoke: 
 
 " God love 'em! God bless 'em! God save 'em! " 
 
 And while the curtain was falling between the stage and 
 the fervent people, Edward Blake noticed the speaker's 
 eyes were full of tears. 
 
 Hating himself and the world in general, he arose im- 
 mediately and went out. In the foyer of the theater he 
 paused to light a cigarette. Then he walked into the 
 street, and on the opposite corner he came face to face 
 with Patrick O'Kelleron. For a moment they stood eye 
 to eye, chin to chin, neither one able to boast an added 
 quarter of an inch in height.
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 43 
 
 "Hello, Blake," exclaimed O'Kelleron. " Am I too 
 late for Brewer's Pepperdays? " 
 
 Edward blew out a mouthful of smoke. 
 
 " You are, Patrick," he responded with assumed ami- 
 ability. " It's just over. Better luck to-morrow, per- 
 haps. They're on for a long run if their reception is any 
 sign. . . . Come over to the club for a game of 
 billiards." 
 
 " I dined with Mart and promised I'd see his star kids 
 tonight," remarked O'Kelleron, as they walked away to- 
 gether. " I'm starting south in the morning for a couple 
 of weeks. I had an appointment which I had to keep 
 before the show, and the time passed away before I knew 
 it. ... Were they good, the Pepperdays? " 
 
 " Fine," muttered Blake. " There's never been any- 
 thing like 'em at the Hypo, nor anywhere else, I imagine." 
 
 Then they sauntered in silence the rest of the way to 
 the Harvard Club. 
 
 Theater parties on foot and in conveyances were home- 
 ward bound when Edward Blake and Patrick O'Kelleron 
 parted on the street in front of the club. Cocktails, 
 numerous highballs, even his brilliant playing, had not 
 succeeded in raising Blake's spirits. A gray-eyed sprite 
 had hovered between him and the billiard balls. She had 
 taunted him with inefficiency, dishonesty and all the 
 liabilities he knew were labeled against him. In the end 
 she had succeeded in making him lose to his opponent a 
 game in which he was considered a past master. 
 
 He walked through Forty-fourth Street to Sixth Avenue 
 in a state of mind bordering on collapse. He hesitated on 
 the corner, undecided whether to go home or not. No, 
 he hated the thought of his bachelor apartments. Among 
 its elaborate knickknacks his imagination ran riot with 
 longing for Patricia. 
 
 Mechanically he turned uptown, only to stop and stare
 
 44 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 east on Forty-eighth Street. There, almost in the middle 
 of the block, Patricia Pepperday lived. To sleep at all 
 that night, he must plead with her for one more chance. 
 Without waiting for further troublous cogitation, he 
 strode the pavement toward Fifth Avenue with a tread 
 that expressed a definite purpose. When he halted across 
 the road from Cavendish's, he saw the streaks of light that 
 filtered through the drawn curtains of a window on the 
 second floor. 
 
 In less than a minute he was ringing the bell. He was 
 wily enough not to ask for Miss Pepperday of the drowsy, 
 frowning girl who peeped out at him. He wanted to see 
 either Arthur Brown or William Foster, so he pretended 
 to Fancy Cavendish. 
 
 " Second floor front/' she squeaked at him. " Both of 
 'em's at home! " and, " Billy's a crook! " volunteered the 
 parrot in the girl's arms. 
 
 Blake knocked softly on Foster's door, and a sullen 
 voice growled : 
 
 " If you're good lookin', come in; if not, stay out! " 
 
 With an unsteady laugh, Blake opened the door. 
 William Foster and Arthur Brown were sitting alone at 
 the table, and all in a glance Blake took in that the boys 
 were," Three sheets in the wind, and the other one flying." 
 So much the better, he told himself, as he advanced into 
 the room.
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 45 
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 THE theatrical world is a world by itself. Like an 
 infant spoiled by fond parents, it turns night into day and 
 most of the day into night. Any one, long in New York, 
 knows there is no sleep where actors take up their abode 
 until after the small hours of the morning wane into 
 larger figures. 
 
 Clara Cavendish's house on Forty-eighth Street was no 
 exception to this rule. 
 
 On the second floor front William Foster shared a room 
 with Arthur Brown. Adjoining this was Millicent 
 Foster's two-room apartment. The Pepperdays occupied 
 the third floor, Barney and Michael together, while 
 Patricia had established herself directly over Miss Foster. 
 
 The great clock in the tower of the Metropolitan Build- 
 ing had notified New York that it was time for even the 
 restless Tenderloin to cease its gayeties by booming forth 
 the hour of one. 
 
 The city was in the last throes of a strenuous evening 
 when Patricia arrived home, having partaken of an after- 
 the-show supper with Martin Brewer. As she entered 
 the house, she was conscious of a sense of satisfaction, 
 mixed with a little worry. 
 
 At the Grand Cenral Station the Pater had whispered 
 congratulations and endearments in her ear, and she had 
 seen the train carry him away to Yum-yum, acknowledg- 
 ing in silent humility that she had rather be worthy of 
 his dear benediction than the possessor of the world's 
 wealth. Barney had gone directly home from the station 
 to rehearse more vim into his lines. Michael had trailed 
 away with Millicent Foster, and Benny, to Patricia's
 
 4 6 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 consternation, had insisted that he was not hungry 
 that he was tired and wanted to go home. 
 
 One flight up Patricia paused near William Foster's 
 door. She heard Billy's peculiar falsetto cut through 
 Funny Breeches' loud laugh. Waiting only long enough 
 to assure herself that Michael was not within, she went 
 on up the stairs. 
 
 A distinct line appeared between her arched brows. 
 The fact of the matter is that the fly in Miss Pepper- 
 day's ointment was Milly Foster. She might deceive an 
 innocent, fine-hearted fellow like Mike with her assumed 
 shyness, but she could not pull the wool over another 
 girl's eyes for a minute. 
 
 Sighing, partly in happiness, partly because the small, 
 blonde dancer menaced the harmony of the Pepperdays, 
 Patricia opened her sitting-room door and went in. Save 
 for the glimmer from the night lamp in the hall, the room 
 was dark. She switched on the electricity and began 
 drawing off her gloves. 
 
 A weak throaty sound from near the window wheeled 
 her about, and she stood an instant as if she fain would 
 accuse her eyes of telling a falsehood. Benny Brewer 
 was crouched in an armchair, his long fingers locked about 
 his thin knees. 
 
 " My goodness, Benny! " she gasped. " Why 
 why" 
 
 Benny pulled himself to his feet and stood before her. 
 
 " I had to come to see you alone, Paddy," he began, 
 white and agitated. "I I I came right back here 
 after I left you. Father said he was coming home early. 
 So I supposed you would, too. I commenced to think 
 you were going to stay out all night." 
 
 " But you shouldn't have come here so late, dear," 
 quivered Patricia in dismay; " and your father " 
 
 " He won't find out I'm not home. He never bothers
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 47 
 
 me when he comes in, and nobody knows I'm up here but 
 Fancy Cavendish. I gave her five dollars not to tell, and 
 she swore she wouldn't." 
 
 He began to sob weakly, begging her not to send him 
 home until he had told her what he had come to say. 
 
 In a frantic desire to quiet him, she rushed forward. 
 
 " Hush, Benny, you mustn't cry like that," she en- 
 treated. " Wait a minute, and I'll run into Michael's 
 room. He won't mind getting out of bed, and he'll take 
 you home in a cab." 
 
 But Benny was too intent upon himself to notice the 
 anxiety in her tones. 
 
 " No, I don't want to go home," he wailed. " I won't 
 go away. I don't want any one but you, Paddy. Oh, 
 how beautiful you were in ' The Streams ! ' Please be 
 kind to me. If you will, I'll promise not to cry any more 
 I'll do every blessed thing you ask me to do. Honestly 
 I will! " 
 
 Clouding tears rose to Patricia's lids. All the mother- 
 heart of her went out to this lachrymosal tomtit of a boy 
 ravaged with the passions of a man. She suddenly for- 
 got the premonitions that had at first crowded upon 
 her. Consequently she seated herself and drew him to her 
 side. 
 
 " Benny," she said with unwinking solemnity, " now 
 you'll listen to Paddy quietly, won't you? " 
 
 He sank to his knees and laid his head against her. 
 
 " Will I listen to you? " he echoed feebly. " Oh, your 
 voice is like heaven, Pat dearest, sweeter much sweeter. 
 Let me stay right here, my darling. I love it down here 
 at your feet. . . . God, I'm so miserable, so awfully un- 
 happy! Sometime I'm going to be well! I could be 
 now if you'd help me if you'd love me. I want to get 
 married to you to-night, Paddy. I I want : 
 
 " For mercy's sake, Benny, everybody'll hear you if
 
 48 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 you shriek like that," she cautioned, terror-stricken. " Of 
 course, you're going to get well, dear boy, and I'll help you 
 all I can. But don't talk any more now about getting 
 married. When you grieve so, it makes you worse, dear. 
 Hush please, please! " 
 
 At her tender warning he huddled over on the floor. 
 
 " I've made a fool of myself, I know," he winced in 
 shame. " But I can't think of anything or anybody but 
 you, Paddy. You're angelic enough to say it's not be- 
 cause I'm so infernally ugly you don't like me. It is, 
 though! But but I thought, if I could see you alone, 
 I could persuade you to marry me now, and I had some- 
 thing to tell you besides. Patrick O'Kelleron was up 
 home to dinner to-night, and he said he knows a fellow 
 that was hurt like me, and he's well! Dad got the 
 doctor's name, but, Paddy, I couldn't stand an operation 
 unless you were with me. I thought because be- 
 cause I played so well, maybe, you'd forget how I looked 
 for awhile. ... I can play, Pat dear, I can! " 
 
 " Why, of course, you can, Benny," she upheld him. 
 " You're perfectly magnificent! I love you when you 
 are playing! Now, there you go again! What did I 
 say? Benny, if you'll stop crying, I'll tell you some- 
 thing that will relieve you, I know. I'll sit right down 
 here beside you see? 
 
 " There, now put your tired head against Paddy." 
 
 She captured his ice-cold, restless fingers, those talented 
 hands, in hers. She began to speak in low tones, and as 
 she went on, Benny's tears were dried. He lay very 
 quiet with closed eyes while she told him the illuminating 
 truths taught her by a blind mother who in physical 
 darkness radiated spiritual light. She quieted his aching 
 nerves by gently smoothing his hair as she quoted up- 
 lifting verses that came from the subconscious memories 
 of her childhood. She crooned to him, too:
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 49 
 
 " Lead Kindly Light amid the Encircling Gloom." 
 
 And as she sang that beloved hymn with Benny's frail 
 frame leaning against her, another man with glistening 
 red hair smiled at her from her storehouse of fancies. 
 No! Of course, she would never marry! 
 
 " Lead thou me on," fell softly. 
 
 Benny was asleep. With the touch of a fairy she 
 pressed his dark head against her as she ceased singing. 
 
 Then for how long Patricia never knew, she golden- 
 dreamed of that lofty figure in Blackberry Lane. Benny 
 stirred a little just as she had registered a vow to follow 
 in Aunt Addie's footsteps. When the Pepperdays needed 
 her no more, when she was an old, old maid, she would 
 go back to Balmville, to Blackberry. . . ." 
 
 Blinking his eyes, Benny suddenly sat up. 
 
 " Now, dear, you feel better, don't you? " she queried. 
 " Let Paddy get a taxi and send you home, if you don't 
 want Michael." 
 
 Out of that hour, out of that group of early morning 
 minutes, while heavening hope into Benny Brewer's 
 withered being, there marched into Patricia Pepperday's 
 life a desolate wretchedness that comes to few. In 
 future periods of retrospection, her one remorseful cry 
 was, " Why didn't I go for Michael? " Instead, she 
 assisted Benny to his feet and helped him wash away the 
 signs of his tears and comb his tumbled hair. 
 
 " I don't know what Dad'll say to me if he finds out 
 I've been here," he said when they stood ready for de- 
 parture. 
 
 " We won't tell him," she answered, smiling reassur- 
 ingly. " We won't mention it to any one. It'll be our 
 little secret, just our own hour. Will that be nice? "
 
 50 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 " GOLD PENCIL PONIARD! " blazed a scarehead across 
 the top of an " extra " that appeared on the streets of 
 New York about ten o'clock the next morning. 
 
 " Mysterious Killing in Actor's Rooming House," was 
 the subtitle, and the news article read: 
 
 " The Cavendish residence on Forty-eighth Street, a 
 well-known theatrical rooming house, was thrown into 
 an uproar at an early hour this morning, when the land- 
 lady discovered Arthur Brown, one of her lodgers, 
 murdered, near the fire escape on the second floor. 
 
 " The police were immediately notified and took charge. 
 They are engaged in investigating what promises to be 
 one of the most unusual crimes that was ever committed 
 in this city. 
 
 " The only lodgers in the house were the slain man, 
 William Foster and his sister, Millicent, all of whom had 
 rooms on the second floor, and the Pepperday Triplets, 
 consisting of Barney and Michael Pepperday and their 
 sister, Patricia, who occupied the rooms on the floor 
 above. 
 
 " Brown was dressed for the street, and his hat lay 
 on the floor beside him. The body was oddly crumpled 
 up as though the dead man had sunk to the floor in a 
 heap and had been left as he had fallen. When an attempt 
 was made to straighten out the corpse, the coat fell back 
 and disclosed the gilt knob of a metal lead pencil pro- 
 truding through his silk shirt on the left side. The 
 stiletto-like instrument had penetrated his heart. Death 
 had been instantaneous. Bleeding was internal, and there 
 is no clue in the hall or about the body to show by whom
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 51 
 
 or how the fatal blow was struck except the pencil 
 itself. 
 
 " There are, undoubtedly, many thousands of such 
 pencils in use in this city. It was of the familiar type: 
 Gold-plated, a little shorter and about the thickness of 
 an ordinary wooden lead pencil. On the knob was en- 
 graved the monogram of Michael Pepperday. There is 
 no doubt that it is his pencil. Pepperday himself identi- 
 fied it. It is equally certain that it was in his posses- 
 sion last evening. 
 
 " Mrs. Cavendish was not at home during the night. 
 Her daughter, Fancy, seemed singularly reticent and 
 obstinate when questioned. From her it was learned, 
 however, that the only person outside the regular lodgers 
 in the house last night was Edward Blake, an alderman 
 of this city. 
 
 " When interviewed, Mr. Blake said that he went to 
 call upon Foster and Brown, who occupy a room to- 
 gether, some time after one o'clock in the morning and 
 remained there until after four. He found both actors 
 in, but he had not been there long when Brown went out, 
 certainly before two, he thinks. Besides William Foster 
 there were his sister, Millicent, and Fancy Cavendish in 
 the room all the time Alderman Blake was there. None 
 of them ever saw Brown again, and Mr. Blake was horri- 
 fied when told of his death. 
 
 " Every one in the house has been examined and given 
 minute and circumstantial account of his actions except 
 Michael Pepperday. He refuses to answer any questions 
 or give any information whatever as to where he was or 
 what he did after one o'clock this morning. 
 
 " It is known, however, that he returned to the Forty- 
 eighth Street house about midnight with Millicent Foster 
 and went to her brother's room and played cards with 
 Foster and Brown until about one. Mr. Pepperday did
 
 52 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 break his silence enough to say that he lent the pencil to 
 Brown to figure the score, but it is significant that a pencil 
 with a good point was found in Brown's pocket, and 
 Foster, the other player, does not recall that Pepperday's 
 pencil was used. 
 
 " Young Michael left before Blake came in and while 
 Brown was still in the room. Pepperday was recognized 
 in a restaurant on Sixth Avenue about half-past one 
 where he bought some cigarettes. 
 
 " Barney Pepperday reluctantly admitted that his 
 brother did not come to bed until daylight. 
 
 " There is also abundant evidence that Michael Pepper- 
 day was on unfriendly terms with the dead actor. 
 
 " The slain man was the comedian of the troupe of 
 ' Foster, Brown and Foster ' which has been showing 
 for some time at the Hypo Theater. On account of his 
 enormous size and laughable antics, he was nicknamed 
 ' Fatty Funny Breeches.' 
 
 " The Pepperdays opened last night at the Hypo in a 
 playlet entitled, l The Streams Make Glad/ and scored a 
 tremendous hit. The play is a biblical allegory, a bril- 
 liant production, written and staged by that master of 
 stage-craft, Martin Brewer. The trio sang superbly, and 
 their beauty was remarkable. Especially striking and 
 picturesque was Michael, who created the part of ' David, 
 the shepherd boy.' 
 
 " No arrest had been made at the hour of going to 
 press, but one may be expected soon." 
 
 Some sixty hours after the tragedy found Michael 
 Pepperday leaving the District Attorney's Office. There 
 hung over his jaded features a furtiveness that ticketed 
 him a guilty man to the stealthy representatives of the 
 criminal court who dogged his every footstep. 
 
 Cruel, official gruelling, lasting hours, had reduced him 
 to such a state of exhaustion that he could hardly muster
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 53 
 
 courage to plod into the sunshine. Inscrutable faces, 
 belonging to men who in the last two days had become 
 familiar figures in Forty-eighth Street, sprung from no- 
 where the instant he moved to the pavement. Assuming 
 a nonchalance that did not deceive his custodians in the 
 least, he paused deliberately and lighted a cigarette. 
 Then he walked slowly to the subway. 
 
 Pretending that he was not troubled about his pur- 
 suers, he mounted the Cavendish steps, took out his key 
 and unlocked the door. In his desire to escape the 
 satirical, watchful eyes, he scuttled out of sight in a rush 
 that only tacked to him another label of his culpability. 
 
 He trudged wearily upstairs, halted before Miss 
 Foster's room and signified his presence by three short 
 raps. 
 
 A small, blonde girl flung open the door but cowered 
 back when she saw him. 
 
 " Come in, Mike," she said with a gasp. " Billy's 
 here! But he was just saying that he had to run away." 
 
 The atmosphere of suspicion which seemed to envelop 
 the whole house was reflected in the greetings exchanged 
 between the two men. Michael's attitude, moreover, was 
 a trifle haughty and preoccupied, while the other's was 
 sly and obsequious. 
 
 William Foster was of slight build, fair of face and 
 hair and but a little taller than his sister, and now he 
 felt insignificantly mean as he shifted his gaze from Pep- 
 perday to Millicent, who stood, confusedly twisting a 
 blonde curl around her finger. An almost imperceptible 
 motion of her head told him it was time for him to be 
 gone. 
 
 "Well, I'll vamoose now, sis," he muttered. "I'll see 
 you at dinner." 
 
 He minced out of the room, holding his head as high 
 as he could. On his precipitate flight down the stairs
 
 54 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 his rage grew. How dared Michael act so superior! All 
 the Pepperdays behaved as though they had been born 
 miles above ordinary mortals. His face waxed hot as he 
 thought of Patricia. He wondered if she would look 
 through him the next time he met her as she had the last. 
 He shivered at the thought. Well, no matter! Soon he 
 would dare ask her to marry him, and she would not laugh 
 at him; she would snap at his proposal. Before the 
 District Attorney finished with Michael, the Pepperdays 
 would come down off their high horses. 
 
 Meantime Millicent was staring at her companion with 
 fear-laden eyes. 
 
 " Michael," she said timorously, " oh, you told 'em, 
 didn't you? You're as white as a ghost! What what 
 happened to-day to make you look like that? Something 
 worse than yesterday? " 
 
 An apathetic nod from Michael indicated how harrowed 
 was his soul as he sank into a chair. To cover her 
 craven chicken-heartedness, Millicent gathered up the 
 garment she had been mending. 
 
 " I'm getting into deeper waters every minute, Babe 
 dear," he told her tonelessly. " The doctors have figured 
 out that Fatty died between one and four o'clock that 
 morning. Except for the few minutes I was at the 
 Chink's for suey, you know where I was. Don't hold me 
 to my promise, Baby, don't! " 
 
 It seemed a coon's age that she stitched and stitched 
 and stitched in silence, the needle making a ticking sound 
 each time it caught the cloth. Michael, watching her, 
 wondered how she could guide it so accurately when the 
 whole world was topsy-turvy. She did not act as though 
 she had heard a single word he had spoken. 
 
 " You'll let me tell 'em, Milly," he urged. " You saw 
 those three men outside yesterday? Well, they trailed 
 me downtown and back again to-day."
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 55 
 
 Milly untangled a knot in her thread, and in so doing, 
 she sighed. 
 
 " You imagined it, Mike," she expostulated. " You're 
 nervous, that's why." 
 
 " Righto, I'm nervous, and I don't deny it, but I can't 
 be bamboozled into believing I'm blind, Milly darling. 
 You'll change your testimony, won't you, for my sake? 
 You don't know how much I need you to stand by me." 
 
 Wrinkling her brows thoughtfully, she lifted her hands 
 to thread her needle anew, but her fingers trembled so 
 she suddenly dropped them into her lap, and then she 
 fixed her bright entreating gaze upon him. 
 
 " But why, Mike dear, why? " Her appeal was 
 impelled by several gasping breaths. " There are so 
 many reasons against our saying a word about it. In the 
 first place they can't prove it on you anyway. You've 
 already sworn that you loaned your pencil to Fatty. It's 
 too bad that none of the rest of us remember it, but they'll 
 take your word for it." 
 
 Suppressed sobs, coming from between the bobbing 
 yellow curls on her bowed head, a dear head he adored 
 to the depths of his boyish heart, reached Michael like 
 so many sword thrusts. 
 
 " Milly dear," he blurted, his lips trembling. 
 
 "What, honey! " she asked with face still hidden. 
 
 " Don't cry! " was all Michael could think of to say. 
 
 " But I can't help it, Miky. You know I can't! 
 I'd be ruined, sweetheart, if if you told on me! 
 I never could hold up my head again, and I've always 
 been so proud of my good name. Then I'd be arrested 
 for swearing I was with Fannie and Billy and Eddie 
 Blake until after four o'clock. But I wouldn't care about 
 that as as I would Patricia'd never even look 
 at me again. She's so awfully good ! Your f ather'd 
 hate me, too, for being so wicked! Your dear, blind
 
 56 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 mother wouldn't have me for her her daughter. Oh, 
 Michael, if I'd only been a good girl If I'd only 
 married you in Baltimore! " 
 
 Slowly Michael rose to his feet. He could not endure 
 any longer seeing this girl, whom he loved and who loved 
 him, agonize so. His danger of arrest, a danger which 
 hung over him like the sword of Damocles, fled from his 
 mind. With one bound he was on his knees beside her, 
 but she shrank away, although she allowed him to kiss 
 her hands passionately. 
 
 " I'm so ashamed," she moaned, " so horribly ashamed, 
 my shepherd, David. You must go away now. I'm 
 going downtown and and tell 'em. After that 
 you'd never marry a girl whose reputation " 
 
 She fell forward against him in convulsive weeping. 
 
 " I never knew how much I loved you, boy, till till 
 now! " 
 
 Michael snatched her into his arms. 
 
 " Dear little girl," he articulated brokenly. " Oh, my 
 sweet, how precious you are! You shan't say one word 
 about that that night," he kissed her again and again, 
 " and neither will I. See, darling, how happy I am! 
 You're mine, all mine! And I'm all yours! My baby 
 mustn't cry any more! Now, smile while I tell you 
 something." 
 
 She peeped up at him shyly, her lips curling upward 
 a trifle. 
 
 " I love you so much," he stated in sharp emotion, 
 " that that before I'd tell anything you didn't want me 
 to, I'd let 'em tear me to pieces, inch by inch. As long 
 as you love me, nothing else matters."
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 57 
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 ABOUT ten days subsequent to the killing of Arthur 
 Brown, William Foster picked his way gingerly along 
 Forty-second Street through a drizzling, cold rain. He 
 detested wetting his shoes. A cat, crossing a muddy 
 road, could not have trod more daintily than he, and his 
 dapper neatness was a protest against the dirty inclem- 
 ency of the weather. If his errand had not been of the 
 utmost importance, he never would have ventured out 
 on such a day. 
 
 The thought that, perhaps, in a short time he would be 
 so well fixed that he would be able to summon a taxi, or, 
 possibly, buy a car, made him discharge a low, delighted 
 whistle. Yet, underneath his superficial sparkle and im- 
 maculate appearance, there surged a confusion of con- 
 flicting hopes and fears. 
 
 That morning Martin Brewer's curt telephone message 
 in answer to a letter he had written him had jolted the 
 young man's self-importance to a positive degree. 
 
 "Well, what do you think of that, Babe?" he had 
 sniffed at Milly. " He'll see me me ' for five minutes! ' 
 Five minutes ! I bet he gives me more than five minutes 
 to-day, and after this he'll greet me like a long-lost 
 brother. I'll throw him a mouthful of words that'll stick 
 in his crop for many a year. I tell you our fortune's 
 made, my dear girl ! " 
 
 "Go to it, my love, but be careful how you handle 
 Brewer," Milly had cautioned sweetly. 
 
 Foster was ushered into Brewer's private office the 
 moment he presented his card, but an uncomfortable 
 flush crimsoned his face as he met Martin's probing blue
 
 58 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 eyes. He felt he was being analyzed molecule by 
 molecule. 
 
 "What's up? " said the playwright brusquely. "I'm 
 almighty busy to-day." 
 
 Not having received an invitation to be seated, the 
 actor sagged against the table. He almost wished he 
 had not come. 
 
 " What's the rumpus, Bill? " reiterated Brewer. 
 
 To screen his confusion, Foster took from his pocket 
 a lilac-bordered handkerchief which he flirted across his 
 face. Drops of water were oozing from his pores, and he 
 experienced the sensation of smothering. The other man 
 sniffed his disgust as an abominable odor of cheap per- 
 fume was wafted to his outraged nostrils. 
 
 "I should have seen you before this, Mr. Brewer," 
 began Foster. 
 
 " Well, as you were in New York, and I was in Chicago, 
 you couldn't very well see me, could you? That's a fact 
 you can't get around. I just got back this morning. 
 What do you want? " 
 
 Running the tips of his delicate fingers along the edge 
 of his collar to separate it from his damp neck, Foster 
 considered how best to open his attack. 
 
 "Mike Pepperday's been arrested," he began again, 
 " and his sister " 
 
 "Well, I know all about that. That isn't your business 
 here. What is it? " 
 
 "Did Benny " the little man moistened his parched 
 lips. "Did Benny," he repeated, "tell you where he 
 was the night Fatty Brown was killed? " 
 
 So unexpected was this question that Brewer started to 
 rise, then sat down again; but not for a moment did he 
 lower his piercing glare from the almost unnerved actor. 
 
 "He didn't need to tell me; he was home," he vocifer- 
 ated. "He was home in bed! "
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 59 
 
 Ah, thought Foster, my guess was pretty straight! 
 
 "You saw him there?" he asked significantly. 
 
 "No, but but I know it!" 
 
 The speaker's lips closed on the last word in a straight, 
 hard line. He so detested Foster and men like him that 
 he was tempted to kick him out of his office without 
 further ceremony. 
 
 But now the ice was broken, William Foster relieved 
 his tense muscles by leaning over the table. He looked 
 directly into the manager's face. 
 
 " Well, he wasn't home," he declared with em- 
 phasis. "He he was at Cavendish's. I saw him there 
 after two o'clock in the morning." 
 
 Brewer suddenly stiffened into an iron rigidity. The 
 implacable blue challenge he sent the other across the 
 distance between them lost its sting on the way. Billy 
 knew whereof he spoke; and Martin Brewer did not. 
 
 "What are you trying to do, Foster; fasten this thing 
 on Benny? " Martin blared, tallow- white. 
 
 " No, I'm not; of course, I'm not," he hastened to 
 answer, locking and interlocking his nicely manicured 
 fingers. "Not if he isn't mixed up in it in any way! 
 That's what I came to find out." 
 
 " Sit down," growled Brewer. 
 
 Carefully pulling his trousers far up from his silk-clad 
 ankles, the actor dropped into a chair. 
 
 "I came along to have a talk with you before saying 
 anything about it to any one else," he announced in evi- 
 dent relief. "It doesn't seem right to me that Michael 
 Pepperday should be blamed for a murder he didn't 
 commit. Everybody that was in the house that night's 
 been questioned by the police but Benny, and I thought 
 if you knew he was there, you'd make him come forward 
 and own up what he knows about it. Ben hated Funny 
 Breeches like a hell cat."
 
 60 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 That was true! Brewer had long known of his son's 
 antipathy for the fat comedian. He remembered that 
 once on preparing a list of theatrical guests for an occa- 
 sion of festivities at his home, he had included Arthur 
 Brown among those to be invited. He could hear Benny's 
 voice ringing in his ears, now. " I won't have Funny 
 Breeches here, dad! I hate him!" Probing for the 
 reason, he had obtained Benny's explanation. "He 
 teases me every chance he gets. I can't help it because 
 I'm sick, can I?" 
 
 Had Benny put an end to Brown's jokes by putting an 
 end to the joker? 
 
 In the next few dots of time, it seemed to Martin that 
 his life blood seeped out, drop by drop. He breathed 
 audibly and with effort. He recognized in the man before 
 him an actor of the blackmailing type. The rat wanted 
 something! What was it? 
 
 " You say you saw Ben in the Cavendish house? " he 
 demanded heavily. 
 
 Quick comprehension was one of Foster's few virtues. 
 He concealed the exultation that welled up in him when he 
 told himself that he had bayoneted the one raw spot in 
 the playwright's make-up. 
 
 "I sure did," he nodded. 
 
 "And you're giving me the chance to tell the police 
 myself! Is that it? Why haven't you? How am I to 
 understand this thing, Foster?" 
 
 "If I'd been going to do it, I wouldn't be here now, 
 would I? You got brains enough to know that! " 
 
 "Who saw Ben there besides you?" asked Martin. 
 
 "No one that I know of. At least it wasn't mentioned 
 at any of the hearings." 
 
 "Does Ben know you saw him? " 
 
 "No, he doesn't, nor anybody else, either! " 
 
 From Forty-second Street shifted up a din, audible
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 61 
 
 through the closed windows. Trucks rumbled, and auto 
 horns honked. Trolleys clanked and clattered on their 
 noisy way. Underneath it all ran the low, persistent 
 hum of the city, the conglomeration of all the noises made 
 by human creatures intent on the sordid business of grub- 
 bing up a living. 
 
 Brewer longed for a lull in the racket to straighten out 
 his disordered thoughts. 
 
 "Come back to-morrow at twelve, Foster," he said 
 finally. "I'll see Ben first before telling you what I'll 
 do. Can I rely on you not to say anything to any one 
 about it in the meantime?" 
 
 There was a significant directness in the speaker's 
 words that popped Foster to his feet. Only too willingly 
 he gave his word to be silent, suavely, almost obsequi- 
 ously. Then he vanished from Brewer's sight, leaving him 
 staring at the closed door.
 
 62 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 SIXTY times had the minute hand hitched forward on 
 his watch dial, and yet Martin Brewer sat hunched over 
 his work table. The cornerstone had suddenly crumbled 
 from beneath his temple of faith. Life and life's aspect 
 had changed while the sun was moving from twelve 
 o'clock to one. He had made an appointment by wire 
 from Chicago with Patricia, and for no other person save 
 her would he have waited that interminable hour follow- 
 ing Foster's call. He was heartsick to rush to Benny, 
 yet strung to the snapping point of sympathy for the 
 Pepperdays. He glanced at the clock. Three minutes 
 past one! She would be here any minute now. Could 
 he look into her truthful gray eyes and not pour into her 
 ear the story the impish actor had told him? He 
 shuddered back into his chair. 
 
 Benny! Now, what on earth had called Benny to 
 Cavendish's? Patricia, of course! He would ask her. 
 
 The sharp ring of the telephone brought the cold sweat 
 to his brow. He snatched off the receiver. 
 
 "Miss Pepperday calling," was announced in his ear. 
 "Show her in instantly," he answered. 
 
 Then he stood up, corpse-white, pulled down his vest 
 and was still standing erect when the door opened. A 
 figure, heavily veiled, swept in and banged the door 
 shut before the dignified secretary had time to think 
 about it. 
 
 For a moment Martin stared at the newcomer. She 
 was not Patricia. Yet, there was a certain familiarity 
 about her! The same faint perfume of violets that 
 always came along with Lady Pat forced him around the
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 63 
 
 table. When she tossed back her veil, there was re- 
 vealed a pale face out of which burned a pair of Pepper- 
 day gray eyes. 
 
 " I'm Michael's Aunt Addie, Mr. Brewer," she faltered 
 scarcely above a whisper. 
 
 "But Patricia," exclaimed Martin, and then he remem- 
 bered his manners. 
 
 "Sit down, do, Miss Pepperday, in this chair. You're 
 quite out of breath." 
 
 No wonder Adelina was out of breath! She had liter- 
 ally raced from Forty-eighth Street to the Candler Build- 
 ing. 
 
 "Paddy's dreadfully sick," she panted, swallowing 
 after each word. "She's been taken to the hospital 
 Roosevelt. She she kept saying you'd help us, so I I 
 came " 
 
 Ah, surely then, as she bowed her head and wept, did 
 she resemble Patricia! Like her niece, she was one of 
 those small women to whose grief the heart of a large, 
 fatherly man, like Martin, responds without reservation. 
 She so called upon his compassion that he almost blurted 
 out that Michael was not the murderer, that, perhaps, 
 But he bit back the words. It was only a "perhaps" 
 after all, so far as Benny was concerned. 
 
 "I can't tell you how sorry I am, Miss Pepperday," 
 he said. " I hustled home the moment my secretary wired 
 me about Michael. I'm very glad you came to see me! 
 Now tell me what I can do. Anything! I I don't 
 know what to say." 
 
 " Say you know Michael didn't do it, Mr. Brewer," 
 she appealed, swaying dizzily. "My Miky wouldn't 
 murder anybody! You know he couldn't! Everybody 
 knows it! " 
 
 In the years he had been on Broadway, Brewer had 
 faced many unusual situations. But here was one that
 
 64 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 stirred him beyond his own comprehension. Youth had 
 always drawn him. To the sorrows of youth he had lent 
 a wide charity. But there was some element in the 
 pleading of the " Golden Pepperdays' " Aunt Addie, of 
 whom he had heard time and again, that set his pity in 
 motion unaccountably. His one desire, that now sur- 
 mounted all others, was to soften her hurt. He was 
 tempted to put his hand on her shoulder, but instead he 
 coughed, drew up a chair and sat down as close to her as 
 propriety would allow. 
 
 "Now let's talk it over quietly, Miss Pepperday," he 
 begged. 
 
 " I can't. I can't," she wailed. " My baby boy's 
 in the Tombs ! He's always been my baby, Michael has. 
 I I chose him out out of the three. It was awful 
 the way the officers snatched him right out of his bed! 
 Think of that! Think of that! ." 
 
 She lifted a face so distorted with anguish that Brewer 
 for a moment was almost beside himself. 
 
 " Your brother," he began hoarsely. 
 
 " Madison and I came down the minute Barney 
 telephoned us," she interrupted. "How hard-hearted 
 those detectives were, harder hearted than I ever knew 
 men could be. They were so cruel to Patricia when they 
 took Michael away. What less could they expect but 
 that the poor child would fight against their arresting that 
 innocent boy? Then Oh, Mr. Brewer, Barney says 
 she went quite out of her mind. There was a terrible 
 scene at that dreadful Cavendish house. She's so ill 
 that that maybe, she'll die! " 
 
 Evidently this aspect of the situation had not occurred 
 to Aunt Addie before, for she grew rigid in body, her 
 countenance portraying an anxiety that hurtled its way 
 to Brewer. 
 
 " Please, little woman, don't say that," he prayed
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 65 
 
 huskily. " She's too young too lovely too We 
 won't let such a thought come into our minds. Shake 
 hands on that! " 
 
 She thrust out her fingers, shaped and nailed like 
 Patricia's, and Martin's large hand covered them. In 
 spite of his own torture, he was endeavoring to put some 
 courage into Adelina's torn soul, and by the way the 
 wrinkles were spreading out of her face, he imagined he 
 was succeeding. 
 
 "Now, start at the beginning, and tell me all about 
 it," he urged in gentle insistence. "It'll ease you a lot, 
 and I'm always right here, Aunt Addie, always right 
 here for all the Pepperdays." 
 
 She was staring at him, her eyes widening question- 
 ingly. 
 
 "I wondered if you'd go down to the Tombs and see 
 Michael," she shivered. "We've all talked to him, but 
 but he won't say a word that'll help him at all." She 
 choked, and Martin fondled the hand he held. 
 
 "Yes, Aunt Addie, yes?" he prompted her brokenly. 
 
 "I can't understand it," she stumbled on. "My boy 
 wouldn't even tell me where he was that night. Barney 
 says that Patricia insisted he was with that Miss Foster, 
 but the girl says he wasn't, and so does her brother. The 
 two of them swear that Mike only played cards in Mr. 
 Foster's room a little while, and then he went away. 
 Edward Blake was there, too. He's a wicked man! 
 None of them saw Mr. Brown alive after he left the room. 
 At least, that's what they took their oaths to." 
 
 "Didn't Mike go to bed? " ventured Brewer. 
 
 To use her handkerchief, Adelina reclaimed her hand. 
 
 " Barney says not," she answered. " Mr. Brewer, 
 the child had to tell it! They made him! He says 
 Patricia was going to ask you about a man you know in 
 the District Attorney's Office."
 
 66 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 Finally, "Patrick O'Kelleron's there," he admitted 
 reluctantly. 
 
 " O'Kelleron," she repeated. "Yes, yes, I remember 
 now. I thought I mean Patricia told Barney when the 
 lawyers were trying to make Mike confess, that, perhaps, 
 when you came home, you'd ask Mr. O'Kelleron to do 
 something something for us. Couldn't I talk to him? 
 I could make him see right off that Michael's innocent. 
 He's a good friend of yours, isn't he? " 
 
 While Brewer restlessly smoothed his furrowed brow 
 the image of another boy, his Benny, changed places with 
 the King of the Pepperdays. The picture of the power- 
 ful, red-haired O'Kelleron standing over his invalid son 
 fastened itself sickeningly on his mind. 
 
 "Yes, he is! He sure is," he said in desperation, "and 
 I'll speak to him myself if you want me to. I think it 
 would be wiser for me to do it. It might not do any 
 good, but, of course, I'll try. Anyhow, we'll get good 
 counsel for Mike. Even if they try him, they won't find 
 him guilty." 
 
 " But appearances are so against him," mourned Aunt 
 Addie in a far-off tone. "I hear he and Mr. Brown 
 weren't weren't good friends. If that's true, the 
 trouble wasn't started by my boy, and no one can make 
 me believe it was. That pencil the dreadful little 
 gold thing!" Then her faltering accents ceased in a spell 
 of lamentation. When she was able, she began where 
 she had left off: "Michael loved it, that pencil! I 
 I bought it for him out of my butter and egg money. 
 Oh, if I hadn't! If I only hadn't! He says he loaned 
 it to Mr. Brown, but nobody believes him but but us." 
 
 "How about his mother? Does she know?" asked 
 Martin. 
 
 "No, she doesn't, and it won't be easy to keep it 
 from Charlotte, even if she is blind. She hasn't been
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 67 
 
 so well lately, and the doctor forbade Madison telling 
 her this. Mr. Brewer, won't you go down to the 
 Tombs? We'll have him out in a jiffy if he'll Tell 
 him we'll all die! Tell him Oh, tell him anything to 
 open his mouth. Perhaps, he'll talk to you." 
 
 As she rose to her feet, a wave of nauseating fear 
 rushed over Brewer. If Michael Pepperday had not 
 killed Fatty Brown, who had? Was it Benny? As much 
 to divert his mind from his son's danger as anything, he 
 said, rising: 
 
 "Listen, Aunt Addie! I'll try and see Pat O'Kelleron. 
 He's out of town now, but I'll nail him the minute he 
 gets back. Then I'll let you know what he says. . . . 
 Yes, I'll 'phone you at Balmville, and I'll drive down 
 and see Mike some time this afternoon."
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 LIKE a jack-in-the-box, Benny Brewer was curled up 
 before an open window in Tiis studio. He looked out over 
 the bleak roofs, then stared down upon the shining pave- 
 ments below him. It was shivering cold, but he did not 
 care about that in the least. He was trying to gather 
 courage to fall out and forget. In his hand he held 
 some tattered pieces of paper, the contents of which he 
 had learned by heart, words that stuck in his throat like 
 fish bones when he tried to pronounce them aloud, words 
 that had been written by the one man he loved and 
 trusted. 
 
 His father had deceived him; the letters were proof 
 of that! 
 
 When Brewer softly opened the door, Benny was still 
 there. The lad gave him one soul-dissecting look and 
 turned back to the window. 
 
 "Benny," Martin hazarded, "Benny, dear boy, the 
 train was late, and I had to go to the office before coming 
 home. What what's the matter?" 
 
 "Nothing! Go away! Go now! " 
 
 "Look at me!" 
 
 The low, commanding voice brought Benny's head 
 around, but instantly his gaze was again intent on the 
 sky line. 
 
 "God!" muttered Brewer between his teeth. "Son," 
 he burst out, "were you at Cavendish's the night Fatty 
 Funny Breeches was murdered?" 
 
 Benny cowered as if from a blow. 
 
 " Don't ask me," he snarled, his face the color of wood 
 ashes. "It's none of your business."
 
 No further corroboration of Billy Foster's story was 
 necessary. Martin's vivid imagination added dreadful 
 details to the picture that had begun to shape itself darkly 
 in his mind at noon time. He frowned and set his teeth. 
 The law should not lay its heavy hand upon his son. He 
 would fight the boy's enemies to the last ditch. 
 
 "Well, if you were there," he faltered, slumping down 
 into a chair, "I want you to tell me all about it." 
 
 Their eyes sparred a moment in silence. Then the 
 lad laughed, a weird laugh that was more like a scream 
 than any other sound. 
 
 " Tell you? " he cried, swaying his body forward. "I'll 
 cut my tongue out first! Go away, and never come back! 
 You'd like to find something to give me hell for, wouldn't 
 you?" 
 
 A premonition of impending evil assailed Brewer. The 
 very roots of his hair quivered and tightened as if a 
 powerful hand were tugging at his scalp. 
 
 " Benny boy," he exclaimed. " Child ! What do you 
 mean by that? Have you seen in the papers that 
 Michael Pepperday has been arrested for for murder? " 
 
 If Benny had not kept his face to the window, Martin 
 would have noticed his speechless, shocked surprise. 
 However, the expression changed instantly to morose- 
 ness, for after all the lad's interest was limited to 
 Michael's sister. 
 
 "Have you seen Paddy to-day?" he growled. 
 
 Martin had just decided he would not speak of 
 Patricia's illness. 
 
 "No no, I haven't," he said. 
 
 A small ease crept about Benny's aching heart. Then 
 his eyes fell upon the letter he held. The wrong he 
 thought his father had done obliterated every considera- 
 tion external to himself. 
 
 As he glanced at Martin, the man ejaculated a word
 
 70 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 under his breath. The ghastly experience at Cavendish's 
 had changed his son from a soulful human being to a 
 surly animal. 
 
 " Benny," he implored, " son dear! " 
 
 "Don't 'Son dear! ' me," said Benny sharply. "I tell 
 you I know now that you are a hypocrite! And I've 
 always trusted you, always believed every word you 
 said! Some joke! So funny I have to laugh! " and a 
 hysterical cackle dammed the torrent of his speech until 
 it overflowed in a new outburst. "While you were away, 
 I was lonesome, and I went down to your den because I 
 wanted to pretend you were home." He winked back the 
 tears. "Aiid I found a copy of a letter you wrote Lady 
 Pat, just two bits of it, that's all. I know now what you 
 think of me. I've read your own words describing just 
 how I look here and here and here." 
 
 He lifted one thin leg and spatted it with his long 
 finger; his right hand rapped his hollowed-in chest, while 
 the left went to his shoulders. 
 
 Bewilderment swept over Brewer's face. 
 
 "Letter? What letter?" he demanded. "Child, 
 you're crazy! " 
 
 In passionate anger Benny bounded to the floor. 
 
 " I'm not so crazy as you were when you thought you 
 could fool me," he retorted. " You're so dog-sick of 
 having me around you wrote it here." He tapped the 
 letter. " Well," he choked, " I'll be dead soon, and I 
 suppose you'll be glad." 
 
 Martin caught him by the arm. 
 
 " Stop," he) cried. " Stop instantly, and listen to me! " 
 
 "I won't stop," flared Benny, wagging his head and 
 trying to free himself. "Let me go, or, when you do, 
 something will happen. Take your hands off of me! " 
 
 Flinching as if he had been struck with a stick, Brewer 
 relaxed his fingers, and Benny slid away. He crawled
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 71 
 
 again to the window seat and perched himself in the open 
 window. From there he frowned back on his mute 
 father. 
 
 " Just stay where you are, and don't come any nearer," 
 he hissed. "I'll read you something you never intended 
 me to see." 
 
 "Get down into a chair, then," said Martin persua- 
 sively, "and I'll listen to it." 
 
 "You'll listen with me right here," retorted Benny. 
 " When I think how I've believed in you all my life, how 
 I've thought you were sorry for me, and and that 
 you loved me! " 
 
 He was tottering on the very edge of the window sill, 
 and the frozen man, watching him, scarcely dared 
 breathe, nor dared his agonized heart express to his dis- 
 tracted child one iota of its affection for him. Tears 
 slowly filled his eyes, spilled over his twitching lids and 
 fell in splashes down his shirt front. 
 
 "I'm glad you can cry," came to him in mocking 
 tones. "I can't any more! Hear this!" 
 
 And Benny held up a torn fragment of paper. 
 
 "I found it in the waste basket," he announced, waving 
 it in defiance, "and it starts/ Dear Paddy! ' " 
 
 Then he threw the scrap on the floor, and, spreading 
 out another, he began to read: 
 
 "'Benny is so ill most of the time that his life is a 
 burden to him. He's getting thinner and thinner every 
 day. I often wonder how his legs are strong enough to 
 carry him about. The trouble in his spine often makes 
 him very miserable and quite useless ' 
 
 "You needn't have told her I was useless," the young 
 reader gulped. "I'm not quite that! I I can play 
 better than any one you know. But but here's more! 
 
 " 'It's impossible for him to marry in the condition 
 he's in ; you can see that for yourself ' "
 
 72 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 As white as Benny had been, his tortured young face 
 grew even more so, and his colorless lips tightened over 
 his even white teeth. 
 
 "I'll bet she told you she'd marry me, and you said, 
 'No,'" he muttered, coughing. "What'd you tell her I 
 was useless for? Why'd you make me out worse'n 
 I am? " 
 
 "I didn't tell her you were useless," Brewer contra- 
 dicted, his face bathed in sweat. 
 
 " It's here," Benny insisted, flourishing the letter. 
 "Can't I believe my own eyes? I can read, can't I? 
 And before I kill myself, I want you to know that I'm 
 doing it because I'm in your way. After I'm gone, you 
 can marry Lady Pat and forget all about me." 
 
 "Benny," thrust in Brewer, "let me speak one word, 
 please! " 
 
 " I hate the sound of your voice," was flung back at him. 
 
 " But at least you'll hear me," insisted Martin. " Since 
 the day I picked you up so hurt " 
 
 "All twisted forever," burst in Benny. 
 
 " Since that day," continued Brewer, " I've loved every 
 breath you've drawn. And and I did not write those 
 words to Patricia Pepperday, that I swear. I started 
 a letter to her the day I left for Chicago but decided not 
 to send it. But it wasn't a love letter, you can believe 
 that! You've evidently found bits of two letters." 
 
 "Then who who did you tell I was useless?" asked 
 Benny hesitantly, as if he would fain believe the stout 
 denial. 
 
 "I wrote Doctor Percy Blair about you, Ben," an- 
 swered Brewer. "You heard Patrick O'Kelleron speak of 
 him yourself. I wrote him to come and see you. Clearly 
 you didn't find that part of the copy of his letter and only 
 the beginning of Paddy's. I tried to explain all I could 
 so the doctor would understand your case. But I kept
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 73 
 
 the fact that I had written him from you because of the 
 fuss you made about it, because I didn't want you to be 
 nervous before the time came. 
 
 Then the habit of a lifetime grew stronger in the man. 
 He lived but to gratify his son's wishes. 
 
 "Now, hear me while I tell you the rest, Ben! You're 
 going to be as strong as any boy living. If other backs 
 have been straightened, so can yours. And this this 
 I promise you, son. You shall have Patricia Pepper- 
 day if if " He almost said, "if she gets well," but 
 checked himself. "I swear on my life," he went on 
 hurriedly, "that in some way she shall be induced to 
 marry you. Now, will you trust me and love me, 
 boy, boy mine? " 
 
 Benny's anger died abruptly as his father took that 
 mighty oath. 
 
 "Daddy," he whispered, and Brewer caught him up.
 
 74 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 "Or course, Alex, I suppose you'll do as you want to in 
 spite of anything I say," expostulated Mrs. Clark, "but 
 I warn you not to try Patrick too far. He's very much 
 like his father, and I know him better than you do. I 
 don't want to seem to scold, my dear, but he's losing 
 patience. I know by his looks every time you've asked 
 him for money." 
 
 This admonition was bestowed upon Alexander Clark 
 one day by his wife, Nancy, when the two were waiting 
 in her boudoir for her son. If there was one thing above 
 another she disliked to do, it was to remonstrate with 
 her ornamental husband, but this time she realized it was 
 the lesser of two evils. As she had stated, she was well 
 acquainted with the idiosyncracies of her big, red-headed 
 Patrick. 
 
 There were no truer words ever spoken by Nancy 
 Clark than that her second life-mate, who but a few years 
 back she had tagged as her own private property, was 
 handsome. Upward toward his slightly distended 
 nostrils curled a mustache a king might have envied. In 
 relation to it was a carefully cut Vandyke which was the 
 secret pride of its owner's existence. Once Nancy had 
 dissolved into highly incensed tears when her idolized 
 Patrick had pronounced Alexander's beautiful beard, "a 
 dizzy bunch of whiskers" which, so the young man had 
 grinningly asserted, "I'd enjoy non-esting with the dog 
 clippers." 
 
 Although Mr. Clark's figure had lost some of its youth- 
 fulness under luxurious living, he was still a man in whose 
 possessorship any woman might exult.
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 75 
 
 And Alexander's eyes! Ah, how darkly they flashed 
 in certain moods, how dreamy in others! 
 
 However, Nancy had been educated in a bitter school. 
 She had learned that the softer spoken her spouse, the 
 gentler his rare countenance, the greater her danger. 
 Twice, smilingly, he had pinched her black and blue, and 
 once, when she refused him a jewel to pawn, he had 
 donned sackcloth and ashes because he had been com- 
 pelled to tweak her ear almost off. 
 
 Now, a melting tenderness draped him like a holy 
 mantle and covered, as Nancy fathomed, a boiling caul- 
 dron of temper. But Patrick would be here any moment, 
 and she gasped with gratitude as she thought of it. 
 
 "Tut, tut, my loved one," he admonished in a voice 
 as smooth as shimmering satin, "you do your splendid 
 Pat a wrong by entertaining such a notion. In my 
 opinion he's got little to grouch about. Why, before he 
 went away two weeks ago, he let me have a thousand 
 dollars, and yesterday, when he came back, he didn't 
 mention giving me any more, so I just took the bull by 
 the horns " 
 
 "And I let you have a thousand last week," put in 
 Nancy. "That was his money, too." 
 
 "But, darling, what of that?" asked Clark. "You're 
 his mother, Nan dear, and I'm your own devoted hus- 
 band. Outside of that, Pat's one of the richest young 
 men in New York. Now, why shouldn't you and I have 
 what money we want to spend?" 
 
 "Patrick says you squander too much," answered the 
 woman, "and I'm sure he's very generous. We use his 
 magnificent homes quite as if they were our own, Alex." 
 
 "And why not, my sweet?" he purred. "Who's got a 
 better right? But I firmly believe, Nancy, and always 
 have, if the truth were known, half of what he has ought 
 to be yours."
 
 76 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 "That's nonsense, and you know it ," she retorted. 
 "Until Patrick's Uncle John died and left him his fortune, 
 we were comparatively poor. John wasn't my brother. 
 He was my first husband's brother. I've told you that 
 again and again, and it doesn't set very well to hear you 
 constantly hinting that my boy isn't honest. . . . You 
 say Pat humiliates you, but you've got to stand it unless 
 you go into business for yourself. ... I wish you would, 
 Alex." 
 
 After crumpling the lighted end of a cigarette into an 
 ash tray thoughtfully, Clark turned on his wife with a 
 brilliant smile. 
 
 "Well, I couldn't do that," he said. "I'm too busy to 
 spend my life sweating at a desk. I've other uses for 
 my time." 
 
 "Well, what do you do with your time?" questioned 
 Nancy in a quiver. "You don't spend much of it with 
 me." 
 
 "God forbid!" whispered Clark to his artistic soul. 
 
 It was a relief to both husband and wife when Patrick 
 O'Kelleron walked into the room. 
 
 As he kissed his mother affectionately, she recounted 
 to herself for the millionth time the glories of him, her 
 mighty son, whose footprints she could have kissed from 
 sheer adoration. Often she wondered from whom he 
 had inherited that crop of red curls and the glistening 
 brown of his eyes; not from her and surely not from his 
 father. At this moment she winced a bit as by a quick 
 glance she compared him with Alexander. If an open 
 rupture came between the two, it was evident that, 
 metaphorically speaking, her husband would be ground 
 into the dust. 
 
 "Hello, mater mine," smiled Patrick. "I came up as 
 soon as I could. I wasn't in the office when your message 
 came in."
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 77 
 
 A flush rose to Mrs. Clark's brow. 
 
 "Alex 'phoned you, Paddy, I didn't," she said crossly. 
 "I'm never so much in need that I can't wait until you 
 get home." 
 
 "What's up?" asked O'Kelleron, turning to his step- 
 father. 
 
 Alexander screwed his waxed mustachio nervously. 
 This young man awed him whenever he was in his 
 presence. 
 
 "It was ridiculous, Alex's sending for you, Patsy!" 
 exclaimed Mrs. Clark. "If he hadn't been in bed this 
 morning when you left the house, you'd have been saved 
 this trip." 
 
 " No matter, mommy," Patrick consoled her good- 
 naturedly. "I had to come uptown, anyway. One of 
 Brewer's proteges is in serious trouble, a young actor, 
 Michael Pepperday. Things look pretty bad for him, 
 and the worst of it is I've got to try him. Martin wants 
 to see me about him." 
 
 "You know I don't approve of Mr. Brewer, Patrick," 
 said Mrs. Clark with a tightening of her thin lips. " He 
 has no sympathy from me, nor any of that set of actors 
 associated with him. You've heard that from me before, 
 Paddy. They all go directly against the Bible. 'An eye 
 for an eye' is the motto of the 'Welfare League.' ' 
 
 Patrick laughed. Then he noted her pained expres- 
 sion and became suddenly grave. It was not worth the 
 candle to argue with his strictly conventional mother on 
 the morals of men, nor did he desire to hurt her feelings. 
 
 "Well, live and let live, ma petite,'' he remarked enig- 
 matically. " Everybody has his own row to hoe. . . . 
 But now to business! - Mother dear, I'd like to talk with 
 your husband alone a few minutes." 
 
 But that did not agree with Alexander's notions at 
 all. He returned his wife's glance with a pleading smile
 
 78 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 and a slight shake of his head. Notwithstanding, that 
 lady, desirous to escape the discussion she knew was 
 coming, arose and swept out of the room. 
 
 "Now what is it, Alex?" demanded Patrick as soon as 
 the door was closed. "I'm in a hurry; Brewer's waiting 
 for me at his office." 
 
 "I dislike to speak of gross matters, dear boy," mur- 
 mured Clark, "but but I need need some money!" 
 
 "I gave you a thousand dollars two weeks ago. That 
 can't be all gone! Say, Alex, what do you do with all 
 the cash I send your way? I didn't want to hurt 
 mother by mentioning it before her, but I heard, quite 
 by accident from Eddie Blake if you want to know 
 that you've been teaing and dining with that Foster girl 
 who was playing at the Hypo not long ago. It's an insult 
 to my mother for you to be running around with Broad- 
 way chickens. You're at the end of your tether, Alex- 
 ander. Now, what do you mean by such conduct?" 
 
 A smoldering hate against his independent, impudent 
 stepson flamed up in Clark, a wave of revolt. He flushed 
 crimson. What were the few paltry thousands which 
 found their way into his pockets from the O'Kelleron 
 bank account in comparison with the wealth that lay 
 behind? 
 
 "I put a little money into the Foster act, Paddy," he 
 excused finally, "and Brown's murder made it necessary 
 for me to see Miss Foster." 
 
 Disbelief darkened O'Kelleron's face, and he shrugged 
 his great shoulders. 
 
 "Better keep out of the theatrical business," he warned 
 sharply. "You'll get stung every time, and I advise you 
 to keep away from the the dansants, too. I simply won't 
 have my mother held up to ridicule, so mind that. She's 
 too good a woman to be made a laughing stock of." 
 
 Preparing to leave, he picked up his driving gloves.
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 79 
 
 "Wait a minute, Pat," pleaded Clark. "I understand 
 all you say about your mother, and I know how you feel 
 about it. She's an exquisite woman, but at times she's 
 difficult to live with." 
 
 O'Kelleron's ruddy face paled with rising ire. 
 
 "If she had a decent husband, she'd be all right!" 
 was his bitter reply. "I don't find it hard to get along 
 with her, nor any one else I ever heard of. Her servants 
 stay with her until they drop in their tracks. She tells 
 me you're gone from the time you get up till almost 
 morning, and that you resent her trying to find out what 
 you do and where you go. I'm positive you're not even 
 polite to her when I'm not about, much less affectionate. 
 What do you expect of a wife, I'd like to know. These 
 aren't cave days, my dear Alex." 
 
 Mr. Clark made no immediate answer. So then, Nancy 
 had been telling tales out of school! If this enormous 
 hulk of a son of hers was not standing in the way, he 
 would make her sorry for that, be damned if he wouldn't! 
 
 "It's almost impossible for me to stay home, Pat, 
 Nancy nags at me so much," he complained presently. 
 "I can't have a minute's peace. She and I'd be much 
 more companionable if I had a stated allowance." 
 
 "And you want me to settle one on you, is that it?" 
 interjected O'Kelleron. 
 
 "Yes!" came eagerly, "Yes, Patrick! Money's the 
 bone of contention between your mother and me. She 
 thinks I do you an injustice." 
 
 "You certainly do her one," shot back Patrick, "and 
 you might as well get it in your head now, as any other 
 time, that I don't believe one word you say, not a word. 
 You've promised over and over to let booze alone, and 
 and to treat my mother decently, but I don't see you 
 doing either. I hold some twenty-five thousand dollars' 
 worth of your notes without a chance of ever getting the
 
 8o THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 money back. If mother benefited by it, I wouldn't mind, 
 but she doesn't. From now on " He slapped his 
 gloves into the palm of his left hand with a smack. "From 
 now on," he repeated, "you'll take your stipend from 
 her. Perhaps, if she holds the purse strings, she'll come 
 up in your estimation. And, believe me, Clark, I'll watch 
 for every change in her expression, and, if I see she's un- 
 happy, I'll come down on you like a thousand of brick!" 
 Then he strode to the door, and Alexander heard the 
 horn of Patrick's high-powered motor before he realized 
 what had happened.
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 "You mustn't electrocute Michael, Patrick," cried 
 Martin Brewer sharply. 
 
 O'Kelleron paused on his way to the door. 
 
 "That remains to be seen, Mart," he stated. "As I've 
 told you, Pepperday can't be coaxed or bulldozed into 
 saying a word. I'm sorry to hurt your feelings, old man, 
 but I must repeat that he's guilty. There's no doubt 
 about that in my mind. Still, if he'd talk, things 
 wouldn't look so bad for him." 
 
 Drops of water pricked Brewer's brow and upper lip. 
 "God save 'em!" boomed through his brain, as if a 
 hammer had knocked off each letter. His pet slogan he 
 changed to "God save Michael!" as O'Kelleron went out. 
 
 The instant the door closed behind him, Martin lunged 
 toward it. He had not clean-breasted himself of the 
 offense of shielding a possible criminal. Patrick must 
 know what he knew. Michael must have a chance, and 
 Benny must take his. But neither lad could stand up 
 under O'Kelleron's tremendous pressure as a prosecutor! 
 So, instead of opening the door, Martin slunk back and 
 weakly slid into a chair. He was more than cowardly, 
 worse than Benny a thousand times. Benny was sick, 
 afraid, young. 
 
 He leaned heavily over his desk. He did not even 
 twiddle his thumbs. He had committed himself to the 
 first dishonorable act of his life. His peace of mind was 
 gone, and nothing could restore it. He tried to pray 
 and succeeded only in a dull repetition, "God save 
 Michael! God save Michael!" 
 
 There came a knock on the door, and instantly Martin
 
 82 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 sat up. His pride would not allow him to parade his 
 tribulation before his office staff. 
 
 "What is it, Scott?" he asked, coughing slightly as 
 his secretary stepped into the room. 
 
 "There's a girl outside, sir, and she wants to see you," 
 was the reply. 
 
 Martin frowned. To talk "God bless 'em! God save 
 'em" at that moment, he could not do it! Yet, as he 
 was a man unready with excuses, he hesitated. 
 
 "How does she look?" he questioned lamely. 
 
 "Rather sad, sir!" 
 
 " Then give her twenty-five dollars, Scott, and get her 
 address. Tell her to come again in a day or two. Tell 
 her not to worry if she can help it; and, by the way, 
 Claude, when you give her the money, smile at her, will 
 you?" 
 
 "Smile at her!" was what he had ordered of his secre- 
 tary. He had quoted it as a matter of habit, mechani- 
 cally and without a semblance of thought that any one 
 could be joyful in the world. He, Martin Brewer, pro- 
 moter of happiness, knew now what it meant not to have 
 a smile to call upon. 
 
 The secretary's reappearance brought him to his feet. 
 
 "She didn't want money, sir," he explained, "and she 
 wouldn't go away, either. I even offered her fifty dollars, 
 knowing you'd approve. She wants to see you." 
 
 "Bring her in then," said Brewer. 
 
 He was still standing when a young girl entered. Dur- 
 ing the moment they surveyed each other, it flashed 
 across him that here was an applicant for theatrical work, 
 the type Broadway receives with open arms. Dozens 
 such, with the same petiteness, the same fair skin and 
 charm, had received their stage impetus from him. 
 
 "How do you do?" he remarked, assuming a profes- 
 sional air. "Getting colder, isn't it?"
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 83 
 
 Until the door was closed, she did not speak. 
 
 "I had to see you, Mr. Brewer," she apologized, and 
 immediately he changed his mind as to the cause of her 
 visit. 
 
 "All right," he responded, "you're seeing me now, 
 aren't you? What's your name? " 
 
 "Flossie Baker!" 
 
 " Very well, Flossie! Sit down, and unburden your 
 soul." 
 
 "You you help women?" she questioned in confusion. 
 
 Ah! It was a bit out of his "God save 'em!" then! 
 
 "Yes," he nodded, "that's the best part of my business." 
 
 "Will you help me a little oh, just a little?" 
 
 "Certainly, but you needn't cry. Everything comes 
 out in the wash! Nothing's ever so bad it can't be 
 worse, my girl!" 
 
 He forgot in his sympathy for the weeping young thing 
 that his own matters were quite as hopeless as they could 
 possibly be. 
 
 "I'm in dreadful trouble," she murmured under her 
 breath. 
 
 She sat nervously on the very edge of her chair, her 
 gloved fingers clasped together. 
 
 " I've been on the stage," she told him presently as if 
 in excuse. 
 
 "You look it," was all Brewer said. 
 
 " I can't go through with it! I can't! I can't! " she 
 broke forth. "Everybody says you're angelic to women. 
 Do help me! Please, please! I haven't a friend in the 
 world to go to." 
 
 Martin lifted a paper weight from one pile of papers 
 and laid it down on another for no reason whatever. 
 
 "Tell me more," he said, his head bowed. 
 
 "He he said it was all my fault that that I 
 Oh, Mr. Brewer, I've a lovely mother!"
 
 84 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 "Heaven's blessed you so far then," Martin exclaimed. 
 "Be thankful for that!" 
 
 "But she's proud so proud of me!" 
 
 "Sure she is, and she has a right to be," fell softly 
 from his lips. 
 
 "But you don't understand," she pointed out feverishly. 
 "I've been wicked and and I can't bear the conse- 
 quences. I can't for my mother's sake. She believes in 
 me; she thinks I'm good." 
 
 "So you are," said Martin with force. 
 
 "No, no, don't try to comfort me! You want to make 
 me happier. I can see that, but I'm so miserable! If 
 if Eddie had married me, as he promised, I'd have loved 
 it, but" 
 
 "You'll love it just the same," insisted Brewer sharply. 
 "Love's love wherever you find it, Flossie." Then, with 
 his usual perspicacity, he struck at a nail the head of 
 which was not visible to his material sight. "But I'm 
 afraid Eddie Blake hasn't much love in his make-up, but 
 you never can tell." 
 
 With a long, troubled look she searched his face. 
 
 "I I didn't mean to speak his name," she said, 
 anguished. " He'd be so angry, and I I I love him 
 so, I don't want to hurt him! You won't ever tell, you 
 won't I know, but " 
 
 "I wouldn't hurt Eddie for the world, Flossie," Brewer 
 assured her. " Of course, you love him, and love doesn't 
 go amiss wherever it's sent; remember that! 
 
 "Now, will you please listen to me while I talk to you 
 a few minutes, and keep in mind I'm going to help you? " 
 
 "Yes!" The lovely head' was bowed low, and the 
 twitching face hid its shame. 
 
 "Always always, child," the manager imparted in 
 gentle solemnity, "I've looked upon killing as heaven- 
 damned, and I can't countenance it now. Why, I can't
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 85 
 
 stand a fly swatter in my house. I say: Keep so clean 
 the pests won't want to come in. I believe in conserving 
 life wherever you find it, Flossie." 
 
 "Then you won't help me," she cried, rising in terror. 
 "The way you talk means you won't." 
 
 "It means nothing of the sort. No, don't shake like a 
 leaf, kid. Sit down, and take it easy for a spell." 
 
 As though all hope in life had departed, she sank into 
 the chair. 
 
 Brewer's one-track mind busied itself with the girl's 
 situation. She was whimpering behind her handkerchief, 
 but no thought of rebuke entered his head. The hand- 
 some Blake and his ambitions rode side by side with 
 Flossie's need. 
 
 "I suppose your mother wouldn't be sorry if you were 
 married, would she, Flossie?" he said at length. 
 
 "No, of course, not," she answered, staring at him 
 through her tears. "She's often said so. Why?" 
 
 His strong, kindly face kindled with a flickering smile. 
 
 "Then get married," he said swiftly. "You don't have 
 'to show up Eddie Blake just because you wear a wedding 
 ring. Poor child, you've been treated pretty damned 
 rough, haven't you? But never mind/we'll pull you 
 through. With my consent you won't commit murder, 
 not by a long shot. But but you'll wear a ring which'll 
 tell your mother you've a right to have a baby if you 
 want it; and it'll be the kind of a ring, too, that'll make 
 her open her eyes. Understand, Flossie?" 
 
 "Yes, I've thought of that, too," she mourned, "but I 
 didn't have money enough to do it. It would take such 
 a lot." 
 
 As the moments advanced, Brewer's spirits rose. There 
 was nothing like the "God save 'em! " to buck a fellow 
 up. And what was more, he believed the doctrine 
 he preached: That, unless he put out his strong arm,
 
 86 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 this vital young creature would be blasted by a code she 
 did not understand. 
 
 " Now, look at it this way," he continued after a while. 
 "The shortest way round is the easiest way there. Go 
 home to your mother, like a good girl. Mothers are the 
 best souls in the world anyway, and don't make the mis- 
 take of thinking otherwise, Flossie. And and, when 
 you are yourself again, come back to Broadway, and I'll 
 give you a chance on the stage that'll make my smart 
 Eddie boy wish he'd played the game straight." 
 
 Moved by great emotion, she declared: 
 
 "I never never can thank you enough! I don't 
 know how to " A slight negative shake of the ex- 
 quisite head was followed by, " Tell me what to say, 
 please!" 
 
 "Why, God bless your soul, Flossie, you don't need to 
 thank me! I don't want thanks! Now, we'll fix this 
 thing up, or at least make a start." He slipped his hand 
 into his pocket and drew out a roll of bills and stripped 
 off two of large denomination. " Trot over to Tiffany's, 
 and buy a wedding ring with that, a jim-cracker! 
 
 "And don't argue about it," he told her, noticing her 
 stupefied incredulity. "Just do it! Come back here to- 
 morrow morning let me see at ten-thirty. Wad this 
 into your pocketbook, and let me steer you for a day or 
 two and say, girl, smile, can't you?" 
 
 She stood up, a wan little smile touching the corners of 
 her lips; but in her eyes there still remained that eternal 
 expression of woe that will rest in women's eyes as long 
 as women are women and some men are what they are.
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 87 
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 "MR. BLAKE'S waiting for you, sir," Martin was in- 
 formed, as promptly at ten o'clock the next morning, he 
 strode into his office. 
 
 A slight grimace creased the skin about his lids and 
 lips. 
 
 "Good," he ejaculated, "and, Scott, when that girl 
 comes in, the one who wouldn't take the fifty yesterday, 
 just give me a call." 
 
 He went into his private office and found the alder- 
 man stretched out in an easy chair. 
 
 "Hello, Eddie," he sang out jovially. "Thanks for 
 being here on time. How's how? All right?" 
 
 While he was speaking, he took off his coat and hat. 
 
 " I'm finer'n silk," responded Blake with a smiling nod. 
 "Couldn't be better, Mart! It looks from my place in 
 the road as if I'd land that judgeship. It's a long wait 
 till next fall, though. Say, that O'Kelleron is as clever 
 as they make 'em! I'll wager a fat roll I'll be governor 
 of this State, too, with both of you to help me, before 
 I'm done." 
 
 "So?" came Brewer's meditative reply. 
 
 "Yes, siree, old man," asserted Blake. "I'm the ambi- 
 tious fellow, you can bet what you like on that." 
 
 Brewer made an elaborate circle to reach his swivel 
 chair. He drew a cigar from his pocket, lighted it and 
 sat down. Then seemingly he gave his whole attention 
 to the weed. He drew on it, smacking his lips as though 
 he were thoroughly enjoying himself. He looked at the 
 glowing end and blew gently upon it. Meanwhile his 
 expression was as blank as a stone wall.
 
 88 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 Of a sudden he jabbed the cigar between his molar 
 teeth, cocked his feet on the table, and only then did he 
 center upon Blake a long, piercing look. 
 
 "So! " he repeated in exclamation. "Ambition, rightly 
 directed, is a great thing in this world." 
 
 "I find it so," ruminated the other. "And my future 
 plans are not all selfish. I intend to marry Patricia 
 Pepperday." 
 
 One inch from the butt of Martin's cigar was almost 
 crunched off as it rocked under the set of his heavy jaw. 
 
 "She'll change her mind when she gets better," con- 
 tinued Blake easily. 
 
 "She refused you, then?" asked Martin in far-off tones. 
 
 "Yes! I approached her the wrong way, that was the 
 trouble. But you know how changeable women are. 
 Like the wind ! She has huge respect for you, though. I 
 wish now I'd told her of your approval." 
 
 The speaker was restrained suddenly from finishing his 
 sentence by the frigid attitude and steady stare of his 
 companion. 
 
 "What's the matter, Mart?" he questioned with bated 
 breath. 
 
 "Well, Eddie," began Brewer, "I'm devilish sorry to 
 smash any of your carefully thought-out plans, but I'm 
 out with a brass band against you." 
 
 As if he were going to speak, Blake's mouth fell open, 
 but he was struck dumb. 
 
 "Bassoon, double bassoon and all," rumbled out along- 
 side the manager's mutilated cigar. 
 
 " What?" exclaimed Blake, growing crimson. 
 
 "When you first talked to me about what you wanted, 
 Ed," the older man proceeded slowly, "I had it in mind 
 to stand by you well, not because I like you particularly, 
 but you you had a dandy father, and he and I were 
 friends. I wanted to see his son advance, by Jove. I
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 89 
 
 did! And, if I could lend a hand, I'd do it. But that 
 was before I knew about about Flossie Baker!" 
 
 He laid down his cigar, his thumbs beginning their 
 whipping race about each other. 
 
 "Well, for God's sake," sprang from Blake's lips. 
 
 " 'Tis sort of funny, Eddie, isn't it? that I manage 
 to get my thumb in most folks' pie," Brewer said with a 
 wry twist of his lips; "but I'm in yours, and I'm in for the 
 big plum. See?" 
 
 To abstain from a string of ripping oaths, Blake bit 
 the inside of his cheek. It occurred to him all at once 
 that he could not measure strength with the man before 
 him. From the Battery to the Bronx, Martin Brewer 
 was known and loved. 
 
 "What do you want me to do?" the lawyer muttered. 
 
 "Do?" exploded Brewer. "Hell, what does any decent 
 man do under the circumstances? At that it'll depend 
 on Flossie whether I drum you out of New York or not. 
 If she's willing to marry you, I'll glue myself to the back 
 seat of the hack and let you drive pell-mell. You'll 
 smash up sooner or later without any help from me. And 
 if I decide to let you alone, you can thank the good God 
 who made you!" 
 
 Never before had Blake's ego received such a shock. 
 He jumped to his feet and took a couple of plunging turns 
 up and down the room. 
 
 With a sense of satisfaction Martin watched him from 
 under his heavy brows. There was nothing he enjoyed 
 so royally as squeezing flat a fellow, like Blake, when he 
 had brought to light some bad intent. If he had not been 
 enduring the pangs of the damned himself, he would have 
 laughed outright. 
 
 "But, Mart," exclaimed the alderman, halting abruptly, 
 "listen to a little reason, will you? You know very well, 
 if I marry Floss, no good will come of it. Such marriages
 
 9 o THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 never go. Anyhow, you can't insist on it now you know 
 how I feel about about some one else. I was drunk 
 most of the time I played around with with Miss Baker 
 and don't care a rap of my finger about her." 
 
 "So I was given to understand, Eddie," Martin re- 
 joined, "but that doesn't count for a damn with me. Of 
 course, I can't make you marry Flossie, but I can break 
 you in New York or anywhere else you might want to go. 
 Before I'm finished with you, you'll smell to high heaven; 
 even the angels will hold their noses." 
 
 He boomed out the last words, his fist thumping his 
 chair arm. 
 
 " I say, quit it, Mart," begged Blake, going limp. 
 "What's the use? A fellow will be a fellow once in a 
 while. But you've got me in the net, and I'll do what 
 you say, but I simply can't live with her. Don't ask me 
 to do that." 
 
 "God forbid," cried Brewer. "I couldn't wish on the 
 pretty child such a life as you'd lead her. But, if you 
 want me to hold my tongue, you must marry her. She'll 
 go home to her mother, poor girl, the happier, I hope, 
 but you'll have to treat her pretty well to get her consent, 
 if I am not mistaken. If she refuses, then I'm thumbs 
 down." 
 
 "Ugh! To hell with women," burst from Blake. 
 
 Brewer laughed. 
 
 "Eddie," he said whimsically, "hell's a place that never 
 yet saw a woman and won't so long as the Almighty 
 keeps up that institution. A woman why, a woman 
 can't do a deed on this footstool that she isn't forgiven 
 before she starts in. Hell " He paused in thought, 
 a shadow falling across his fine countenance, "hell," he 
 reiterated, "was made needful by just such men as you 
 and and me." 
 
 The telephone tinkled at his elbow, and he took off
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 91 
 
 the receiver and placed it to his ear with a sigh. 
 
 "All right, send her in," he ordered, and then, eyeing 
 the cringing lawyer, he informed him, " Flossie's on her 
 way in. My dear Judge, if you'll be so kind as to step 
 into my directors' room, out of the way a minute, I'll be 
 ever so much obliged, damn you!" 
 
 Miss Baker came in shyly, and Brewer took quick note 
 that she was not crying. On the contrary she looked 
 extraordinarily like a timorous child. 
 
 "Good morning, Flossie," he greeted her easily, rising. 
 "Feeling better?" 
 
 "I've got it! See!" she twittered, holding out her 
 hand. "You gave me enough money to get one with 
 diamonds around it. Isn't it the cutest thing?" 
 
 He turned the ring around several times. 
 
 "Splendid," he approved. "Diamonds are none too 
 good for you, my dear ! Now sit down, and let's go over 
 a few things together." 
 
 He waved her to a chair and then reseated himself. 
 
 " I was wondering, Flossie," he observed after a 
 moment's consideration, "if you'd consent to marry Eddie 
 Blake. It's a big thing to ask, I know, but I'd like you 
 to think about it." 
 
 She was so taken aback by the question that she could 
 not speak for a space. Tears brimmed over her lids and 
 ran down her cheeks, unheeded. Then, 
 
 "Of course, I'd love it, Mr. Brewer," she sobbed, "but 
 he wouldn't marry me. He told me so over and over. 
 I begged him to, but but he loves some one else." 
 
 "Eddie," called Brewer, and Edward Blake's big frame 
 loomed in the doorway at the speaker's side. 
 
 When the girl saw him she went death-white. 
 
 "There she is, Ed," Brewer thundered. "Now ask 
 her what she wants to do." 
 
 He whirled his chair completely around, so that his
 
 92 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 back was to them. Behind him he heard a man's hoarse 
 whispers and a girl's hesitating replies. But he twiddled 
 his thumbs and looked out of the window and watched a 
 flock of pigeons rise from a loft over near Ninth Avenue, 
 circle hither and yon, up and down, wheeling and turning 
 together, then settle back to their feeding. 
 
 "Mart," Blake's voice came to him hi smothered tones, 
 "Miss Baker has consented to marry me!" 
 
 "Good for her," laughed Brewer, springing to his feet. 
 "You're a lucky man, Ed, in more ways than one. And 
 I suppose now's as good a time as any for the knot to be 
 tied. . . . But, Eddie, before you go, just come over here 
 and make out a check for your wife's wedding ring. In my 
 opinion she showed mighty good taste in picking it out." 
 
 During the next few moments only the scratch of 
 Blake's pen was heard. 
 
 " I'll just drive you down to the City Hall myself if 
 you don't mind, Edward," chuckled Brewer. "I haven't 
 officiated as best man at a wedding in a blue moon. 
 But but, upon my word, the first thing I want to do 
 is is to congratulate you, Judge Blake."
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 93 
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 THERE came a night when Martin Brewer made no 
 pretense of going to bed. In fact, ever since Michael 
 Pepperday's trial had been in session, he had succumbed 
 to sleep only through sheer fatigue. Taking no account 
 of the hours, he had watched daily the slow, relentless 
 progress of the State in its efforts to enmesh the boy 
 ever closer in a thicket of damning circumstances. 
 
 He paced his room in a purgatory of anguish, praying 
 desperately at times and at others declaring with clenched 
 fists that by no act of his should Benny be endangered. 
 Away from his son, he insisted to himself he was a dear 
 innocent; in his capricious presence, he was not so certain. 
 
 With the coming of the cold, gray, October dawn, 
 Martin bathed, dressed, swallowed a cup of coffee and sat 
 down to wait until the world was astir. 
 
 Presently, somewhere beyond in the city, a church bell 
 began to toll the hour. Aloud, Martin counted each 
 ding-dong monotonously, "One, two, three, four, five, six, 
 seven, eight." Then, with an audible groan, he arose 
 and climbed to Benny's apartment. 
 
 "What's happened huh?" queried Benny drowsily, 
 when his father appeared at his bedside. "It's early yet, 
 isn't it, dad? Patricia" 
 
 "There's been no news about her since last night," 
 interrupted Martin, sitting down weightily. "I should 
 have heard, son, if she'd been worse. Michael's trial 
 will end to-day and and every bit of the evidence is 
 against him, too." 
 
 Benny dropped back on his pillow. 
 
 "Will they kill him, do you suppose?" he shuddered.
 
 94 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 "Perhaps," offered Brewer, and that was all. 
 
 It seemed an endless stretch of time before he could 
 loosen his throat muscles sufficiently to speak again. 
 
 "Benny," he said finally, leaning over and laying his 
 hand on the boy's hot brow, "son, could you brace up a 
 minute and tell your old dad why you went to Cavendish's 
 that night?" 
 
 Wearily Benny's lids came together, and his boyish 
 face assumed an expression of pallid remoteness as though 
 his spirit were gradually leaving its house of clay. 
 
 "Benny," Brewer said indistinctly. "Benny, lad, 
 look at me." 
 
 "I don't want to look at you," wailed Benny. "I'd 
 rather you'd leave me alone. I'll never tell about Caven- 
 dish's as long as I live, so don't ask me any more." 
 
 "But, boy, you must tell me," interjected Brewer 
 fiercely. "I want to know everything that happened 
 that night." 
 
 "Oh, can't you let me be? My head aches, my back 
 aches, and I'm sick all over." 
 
 Then he burst into a spasm of weeping, and Martin, 
 unable to bear the sight, stretched his big frame beside 
 the lad, put his arms under his heaving shoulders and 
 pressed his son's head against his breast. 
 
 One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine! 
 Another sixty minutes, long second by long second, had 
 gone into eternal time. Benny was asleep as his father 
 crept away, to begin anew his fight with himself, to endure 
 again the agony of mind that each day now meant to 
 him, as he watched and listened to O'Kelleron's prosecu- 
 tion of Michael. 
 
 From his position in the center of the courtroom 
 Martin Brewer could plainly see each solemn juror's face. 
 He looked at them most of the time. They fascinated 
 him, that row of silent, attentive men.
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 95 
 
 On his way to the District Attorney's table, Patrick 
 O'Kelleron stopped and shook hands with him. After 
 the lawyer had walked away, Martin wished he had 
 whispered a word in his ear in favor of the youthful 
 prisoner. He glanced around the room speculatively. 
 
 Another sun-up would bring to Michael what? His 
 gaze rested on the silvered head of Madison Pepperday, 
 who, gaunt, thin and hollow-eyed, was sitting next to his 
 son, Barney. Martin wished he were Madison. Madi- 
 son was standing by his accused boy, a royal figure of 
 fatherhood. Madison had nothing to conceal. Madison's 
 life was straight and aboveboard, while his own he 
 hardly dared think what it had become. 
 
 Perhaps, if Martin could have glimpsed the mind of 
 the man he envied, he would have realized that every 
 heart knows its own bitterness. For all his children's 
 trouble Madison was blaming himself. Anxious days, 
 spent by him trailing from Roosevelt Hospital to the 
 Tombs, had told on his health perceptibly. 
 
 Now, for a week and three days he had been compelled 
 to sit silently in the presence of that august judge while 
 indefatigable men hurled anathemas at his baby, for to 
 the father heart, Michael had gone back to the days of 
 his babyhood. 
 
 Suffering almost beyond human ken, he had noticed 
 the change that had come over his son after Millicent 
 Foster had sworn that she had been with Fancy Caven- 
 dish, her brother and Edward Blake until almost day- 
 light of the morning of the murder. After that Michael 
 had seemed but a man of stone. 
 
 From under his dark brows, Madison looked at his 
 sons. First at Barney, good, old, dependable Barney! 
 The boy's dear mouth was lined with the strain of the 
 past few weeks. Then he gazed at Michael's beautiful 
 face, and tears stung his aching lids. How could he go
 
 96 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 back to his children's blind mother with the dreadful 
 tale of her daughter's illness and her youngest son's 
 disgrace! With his mind's eye he saw the trusting 
 Yum-yum in Balmville, attended and protected by Aunt 
 Addie. Because he imagined he was on the brink of 
 insanity, Madison dragged his attention back to this im- 
 portant hour. 
 
 Through the veil of mist that dimmed his sight, he 
 saw Patrick O'Kelleron rise to start the final attack that 
 would determine weal or woe for Michael. The cold 
 sweat on his face seemed to freeze into a layer of thin 
 ice. He was mortally afraid of this splendid prosecutor, 
 this Patrick O'Kelleron, with his glinting red hair, his 
 piercing, golden-brown eyes and enormous frame. Madi- 
 son's soul sank into despair as the lawyer's magnetic 
 voice began its slow, even speech. It became as soft as 
 a mother's whispered caress when he spoke of Arthur 
 Brown but rose sonorously ear-splitting as he rapped 
 denunciations against Michael. 
 
 Madison ran his shaking fingers through his thick 
 damp hair to lift its weight from his burning skull. How 
 his head ached! How his temples throbbed! Try as 
 he would, he could not keep his vision clear. Even the 
 bigness of O'Kelleron was blotted out in the clouds that 
 swam and swirled before his eyes. It seemed as if he 
 were floating away into a nebulous nothingness where he 
 hung suspended just himself and the resonance of that 
 importunate voice! Then ringing execration struck upon 
 his ear drum like chisel on marble. 
 
 "We can't tell you just how the killing was done," 
 conceded O'Kelleron. "But one living man knows 
 whether he stabbed his victim stealthily in cold blood or 
 struck him down in the heat of conflict." 
 
 The powerful pleader turned and pointed at Michael. 
 
 "He knows," came in appalling, thunderous tones,
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 97 
 
 "that murderer! Michael Pepperday!" 
 
 The imputation seared Madison's brain like a brand- 
 ing iron. His own identity disappeared in the black 
 gulf that had swallowed every one and everything but 
 his beloved son and his cruel antagonist. A sob burst 
 from his lips. He pulled himself to his feet, tottered 
 forward and raised his tragic face to O'Kelleron. 
 
 "Man," he quavered, reeling, "you you lie!" 
 
 Barney leaped forward to his father's side; Michael 
 partly arose, too, but an officer touched him, and he sank 
 back again. 
 
 For what seemed a space of time hacked out of eter- 
 nity, O'Kelleron stood perfectly still, his flaming eyes 
 leveled on the grief-maddened father of the Pepperdays. 
 
 A despair as deep as the well of night overtook the 
 Pater. Then something snapped in his head, and in 
 spite of Barney's efforts to support him, he slumped to 
 the floor.
 
 98 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 LIFTING her heavy lids, Patricia Pepperday looked 
 around with never so much as a movement of her muscles. 
 Her arms, thin to emaciation, lay outside the white cover- 
 let, her small, fleshless hands relaxed as if they had no 
 strength to move their own weight. With her opening 
 flush of intelligence, she regarded them as a child does 
 when first discovering that it possesses fingers. 
 
 Then something out of a long-ago yesterday, fleeting 
 and intangible, drifted through her mind and floated 
 away again. Her gaze traveled across the ceiling, down 
 the wall to a shadow, a rounded shadow just above the 
 table where a faint light glimmered under a dark shade. 
 She considered it without attempting to discover its 
 origin. Then it moved, vanished, appeared again and 
 spread into the dark outline of a man's body. 
 
 She endeavored to speak, and in the effort one of her 
 hands raised a little, and she sighed. Her features 
 quivered with interest as she saw some one tiptoe toward 
 the bed. Then the person bent over her, and in recogni- 
 tion a slow smile touched the corners of her lips. Barney! 
 How glad she was to see him after so many frightful 
 nightmares that were not true at all! She wondered 
 apathetically where Michael was. This she managed to 
 ask, her lips straining back from her teeth. 
 
 Drawing a chair close up to the bed, Barney sat down. 
 
 "Don't talk just now, dear," he said in gentle persua- 
 sion. "After a while, perhaps, after the doctor's been 
 here." 
 
 "But I must talk," her lips framed. 
 
 Leaning over, he kissed her cheek.
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 99 
 
 " To-morrow," he promised. "Go to sleep, now." 
 
 Too weak to repeat her request for Michael, she slept, 
 woke up, partook of food and slept again, until the sun 
 had risen and set six times over Roosevelt Hospital. Then 
 one morning Barney discovered that she was contemplat- 
 ing him curiously. 
 
 "My head feels queer," she complained, putting her 
 hand to her brow. 
 
 " Never mind! You've been just a a wee bit sick, 
 old thing." 
 
 "Where's Yum-yum?" was her next question. 
 
 "Living with Aunt Addie." 
 
 To the boy's astonishment she did not puzzle over 
 this unusual circumstance. 
 
 "Is the Pater there, too?" she inquired promptly. 
 
 To hide his face as well as to simulate assent, he in- 
 clined his head. 
 
 "I want to see Michael. Where is he?" 
 
 A haunted expression crept into her sand-gray eyes, 
 and her transparent skin became a network of wrinkles. 
 
 "I want Michael," she reiterated weakly. 
 
 As she spoke, he arose. 
 
 "Just a minute, dear," he breathed, and then he left 
 the room. 
 
 For what seemed a decade of time, Patricia watched 
 the door for his return; finally exhausted, she slept. A 
 touch on her wrist awakened her. A strange man, whom 
 she recollected having seen in many of her dark dreams, 
 was smiling down upon her. 
 
 "Feel pretty chipper, little lady?" he queried. 
 
 "I'd I'd like my brother, Michael," she answered 
 feverishly. "Has Barney gone for him?" 
 
 "He sure has, and he'll fetch him along soon," was the 
 medical man's assurance, "but you'd better trot off to 
 sleep now."
 
 ioo THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 One morning about a week later, Barney opened the 
 door of his sister's room and stole softly in. Reproach- 
 fully she snatched his hand as he sat down. It had been 
 so many long days since she had seen him last, and 
 Michael had not been there, either; the Pater had not 
 come, and every time the door had opened, she had ex- 
 pected to see Aunt Addie's smiling face. 
 
 " Barney darling, where' ve you been all this time," she 
 choked, fumbling for her handkerchief. 
 
 "I had to go away for a while," he evaded. "You're 
 a heap better now, the doctor says." 
 
 "Where's Michael?" she asked. 
 
 "He can't come now," he mumbled. 
 
 " Why can't he come? Why?" she insisted. " Has he 
 gone away with a company? Why didn't he come and 
 see me before he left? . . . I've been terribly ill, haven't 
 I, Barney? What made me sick?" 
 
 The muscles of Barney's throat stiffened and to relax 
 them, he swallowed repeatedly. 
 
 "I've been trying to remember something ever since 
 you left that day, dear," she mourned. "It's just back 
 in my head somewhere, but but What made you 
 leave me so long, Barney? I've asked everybody to get 
 you. They always said, 'Yes, yes,' but they didn't." 
 
 Her hot, dry lips touched the back of his hand caress- 
 ingly, and a sense of helplessness settled upon him. How 
 infinitely sweet and fragile she was! Her loveliness had 
 been enhanced by these weeks of struggle against the 
 demons of illness who had sought to destroy her. 
 
 "Will you promise not to cry or get nervous, if I talk 
 to you," he begged, smoothing her hair. "The doctor 
 will root me out of here, if I make you worse." 
 
 "Yes, yes, I promise," she murmure,d her lips trem- 
 bling. " Barney, where's Michael? I wish you'd tell me 
 dear. I wish you would."
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 101 
 
 She raised herself on her elbow, alertly suspicious. 
 Her gray eyes searched his beseechingly. Barney was 
 withholding something she ought to know. 
 
 "Pat, lie down," he entreated. "No, you can't even 
 sit up that much. If you're not careful, you'll have me 
 shot out of here instanter. Listen, honey! Yes, you 
 must listen! That's why I had to stay away all this 
 time. You worked yourself into a fever." 
 
 "I'm trying to remember why Michael doesn't come," 
 she gasped, collapsing on the pillow. "That's all, Barney 
 dear." 
 
 Tenderly he put his arms under her and held her so 
 he could watch her face. Then, 
 
 "The King can't get here," he said huskily. "Dearie, 
 do do you remember Fatty Funny Breeches?" 
 
 Patricia's lids widened in wonderment. Yes, of course, 
 she remembered Arthur Brown! He was in the act with 
 Babe and Billy Foster. Then, suddenly as if she were 
 repeating a familiar fact, she said: 
 
 "Fatty Funny Breeches is dead! It seems as if as 
 if Did somebody hurt hurt Michael? Barney, 
 now now I remember!" 
 
 Then the past swept through her mind, unreeling itself 
 from resurrected memory like a picture moving across 
 a screen. 
 
 "Paddy," he said brokenly, "the jury O'Kelleron 
 Patrick O'Kelleron convicted the King." 
 
 "Oh, Barney," she breathed. 
 
 "O'Kelleron convicted the King, Paddy," he repeated. 
 "Everybody was against Mike. But listen, Paddy! 
 Hear what I say! He he only got second degree, and 
 it might have been much worse, a whole lot worse!" 
 
 The clean, white room faded from her sight. She 
 murmured the name "Patrick O'Kelleron" several times. 
 Ah, she had heard Martin Brewer speak of him. She
 
 102 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 remembered his mother, too, the haughty woman who did 
 not approve of theatrical people. But second degree 
 meant prison! Then Michael was in prison ! She would 
 go instantly and fetch him because he did not belong 
 there ! She struggled up as if to carry out her intention 
 immediately. 
 
 "Paddy, dear, you mustn't act that way," Barney 
 supplicated. "Oh, don't get down sick again. Now, if 
 you do, we'll all go to pieces. We've taken an appeal, 
 and and, maybe, we'll have Mike yet. But you and 
 I have got to turn around and begin again; we must for 
 Yum-yum's sake. Don't look at me like that, honey! 
 I can't stand it! It's all been most terribly awful! 
 Be still while I tell you about it." 
 
 They were silent a few minutes after he had imparted 
 Michael's dear messages. 
 
 "Why are Yum-yum and father living at Aunt 
 Addie's?" asked Patricia after a while, sharply startled 
 by a thought. "Why doesn't the Pater come to see me?" 
 Then, noting the sorrow that swept like a storm over 
 her brother's face, she cried, "Something's happened to 
 the Pater, Barney, and you kept it from me!" 
 
 "He's dead! O'Kelleron killed him! O'Kelleron did 
 that, too," he told her on a bitter breath. "That that 
 man's more of a murderer than the person who did for 
 Funny Breeches, and I told him so to his face." 
 
 Then he burst into tears, and the two heartbroken 
 young things clung to each other until the nurse came 
 and sent Barney away.
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 103 
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 THE day after Thanksgiving was sharp and briskly 
 cold, and there were flurries of snow in the air. 
 
 From the Grand Central Station Patricia walked 
 through Forty-second Street in the direction of Martin 
 Brewer's offices. She regarded her surroundings as re- 
 motely foreign, much as if she were a stranger in New 
 York. This was her first visit to the metropolis since she 
 had been carried to Aunt Addie's home in Balmville to 
 convalesce. 
 
 On the corner of Broadway she paused, torn with heart 
 sickness. When last she had crossed that spot, the Pater 
 had been with Yum-yum. Now, he was lying in the 
 Cedar Hill Cemetery, in the marble sepulcher reared to 
 receive the Pepperday dead. She shivered as a gust of 
 wind swept past on its journey southward. In bitterness 
 of spirit she reasoned that Michael would be better off 
 alongside their father than where he was. Her king was 
 buried alive for twenty years. 
 
 Michael had loved New York, and so had she, but how 
 altered and gloomy it appeared after her weeks of 
 absence. It had never occurred to her before how narrow 
 and soiled Broadway really was, with its files of human 
 beings racing madly around the theatrical district in pur- 
 suit of fame and fortune which now seemed to her un- 
 obtainable. Her desire to top the ladder of golden 
 opinion had broken with Michael's incarceration. Once 
 spirited ambitions were lifeless, and she felt oddly out of 
 place in this world of men and women bent on their own 
 momentous affairs.
 
 104 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 To her New York was no longer the "City of God," 
 made glad with music and laughter and song. Then by 
 an association of ideas, tangled fantastically together in 
 her vivid fancy, she likened Broadway to a monstrous, 
 crooked vein in a sick body. 
 
 She remembered Yum-yum's injunction that morning. 
 
 "God will help us if we ask Him, Paddy dear. He 
 knows what is best for us." 
 
 If there were a God who mixed in the affairs of men, 
 then how unnecessarily cruel He had been! What evil 
 thing had her father done in all his kindly life that he 
 should be slaughtered without a moment in which to say 
 even his prayers? Nothing! Of that she was sure! 
 And Yum-yum! Certainly under the disciplining of 
 Heaven, she had reaped a blank loneliness! Patricia 
 wondered whether, if her mother knew where Michael 
 was, or that a man walked the earth who had killed the 
 Pater, she would still insist that there was a Heavenly 
 Father who fitted every back to its own burden, and that 
 underneath the Pepperdays were "the everlasting arms." 
 
 Her blood seemed to congeal as the name, " Patrick 
 O'Kelleron," stung the tip of her tongue. She whispered 
 it over, fury rising within her until she seemed to grow 
 taller by inches. Oh, how tortuous hate had racked her 
 against her father's destroyer, hate which had eclipsed 
 the sunny laughter in her lustrous gray eyes and left 
 within their granite depths somber shadows! 
 
 As she stood perfectly still, hopelessness as black as the 
 inside of the tomb that had engulfed Madison Pepper- 
 day descended upon her soul. Patrick O'Kelleron was 
 somewhere within the boundaries of this great city. He 
 might even be within range of her vision. Her small 
 white teeth came together savagely as she recalled 
 Barney's reiterated recriminations: 
 "He's a devil, Paddy, that O'Kelleron is! When the
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 105 
 
 Pater dropped dead at his feet, his eyes were as black 
 as coals." 
 
 Since then Patrick O'Kelleron had stood incisively in 
 her mind as a black-eyed Lucifer, "as a roaring lion 
 who walketh about, seeking whom he may devour." 
 
 She gazed down Broadway and pictured herself facing 
 him in her desolated daughterhood. To do that had been 
 one of her errands into town that day; she would ask 
 Martin Brewer to arrange the interview. 
 
 "Patricia!" 
 
 Whirling, as a voice pronounced her name, she saw 
 Edward Blake standing at her elbow. Her lovely face 
 went shades paler, as she regarded him steadily with a 
 wide unflickering stare. He thrust out his hand, but she 
 did not see it. In the trail of this man's misusage of her 
 father had appeared Patrick O'Kelleron, the fiend in- 
 carnate. Ah, the two of them had laid out the path of 
 evil over which the Pater had been scourged into Cedar 
 Hill Cemetery. 
 
 "God, how sick you look, Paddy," Blake exclaimed. 
 "You oughtn't to be out in such weather. Didn't you 
 know any better? You'll catch your death of cold. 
 Come up to the Claridge and have some tea." 
 
 It was then that the flood gates suddenly opened and 
 poured the wrath of ages into her bosom. She was con- 
 vulsed with primeval energy. She wanted to strike him 
 dead. She was begging with mental swiftness that she 
 might see him and Patrick O'Kelleron writhe in the flam- 
 ing jaws of the same hell into which they had sledge- 
 hammered the Pepperdays! For them she would 
 refine the cruel flames to the points of needle barbs! 
 Glorious visions of demons tormented with their own 
 torture ! 
 
 Then she laughed directly into Blake's face.
 
 106 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 "Go back to that infamous O'Kelleron," she lashed out 
 at him, "and tell him he'll soon be where the Pater is!" 
 
 With that she turned and fled as if she were escaping 
 a veritable Mephistopheles. 
 
 "Why, Paddy dear, you told me over the 'phone you 
 were strong enough to come to the city," Martin Brewer 
 charged, a frown fretting his brow, "and here I find you 
 not only as thin as a June shad, but you look something 
 dreadful. I ought to have run out to Balmville instead 
 of your coming in." 
 
 Still trembling in every nerve from her encounter with 
 Blake, she allowed Martin to place her in a chair. 
 
 " I'm perfectly all right, Martin," she murmured, 
 "but you don't look extra well yourself. I talked a minute 
 on the telephone with Benny last night. He asked me 
 to come up to-day, but I said I would the next time I was 
 in. He told me he was miserable." 
 
 To this Martin agreed with a wave of utter despond- 
 ency. 
 
 "Ben never spoke a truer word," he replied, "and the 
 worst of it is I don't know when he'll be any better. 
 Doctor Blair, the spine specialist, examined him, and he 
 insists the boy's nervous system must be bolstered up 
 before an operation. Ben hates even to hear it men- 
 tioned." Then, as if he had had enough of the subject, 
 he changed it. "How was your mother when you left 
 her?" 
 
 " She's as well as can be expected. But it's been 
 dreadfully hard to deceive her about Mike! Aunt 
 Addie " 
 
 "Yes, Paddy, yes, yes, how is your Aunt Addie?" 
 
 She considered him thoughtfully. 
 
 "Martin, did you and Aunt Addie have a quarrel of 
 any kind?" she asked. 
 
 "No, Lady Pat! " The negative was almost gruff.
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 107 
 
 "I've wondered what did happen," she ruminated. 
 "Anyway, in spite of the doctor's orders, Aunt Addie 
 argues we were wrong to make up the tale about Michael's 
 going abroad. She says, 'After every lie comes a day 
 of reckoning,' and I suppose it's true." 
 
 "A day of reckoning" repeated itself somewhere 
 within him in a warning voice, sonorous and full of mean- 
 ing. Then he realized that his day of reckoning would 
 be with Adelina Pepperday. But he found no speakable 
 words of affirmation or denial, so he remained silent. 
 
 "Last night Aunt Addie begged me over and over to 
 tell her," continued Patricia. "All day mother did her 
 best to act happy when her heart was breaking, and I 
 couldn't make myself do it, she seemed so sad!" 
 Patricia's gray eyes filled with tears. "Martin dear, it 
 seems I'm lost in a black place and can't find my way 
 out! I went up to Sing Sing to see Michael last Monday, 
 and he thinks the same as Aunt Addie, but but how- 
 how could I? You see, this was Yum-yum's first Thanks- 
 giving without the Pater." 
 
 "Don't talk about it any more, Paddy," broke in 
 Martin with bluntness. "It won't improve your health 
 any to battle with these things all the time. I say, I've 
 been over your letter about fifty times, I guess." 
 
 He had switched into a new train of thought abrubtly, 
 purposely. Such nerve-racking subjects were impossible 
 to drag to finality. He could give her no advice. He had 
 no palliative against her grief. 
 
 Yes, indeed, there was one thing he could do Benny! 
 He suddenly leaned forward on his table, his cigar 
 falling to the floor. Stooping to pick it up, he answered 
 the "still, small voice" with tenacious stubbornness, "No, 
 I'll not hand Ben over not yet! 
 
 "I've been thinking a lot of you to-day, Pat," he said. 
 "The fact is I've thought of little else. It would be easy
 
 io8 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 enough to get you the stock job you want, but I can't 
 do it not now, since I've seen you! You've got to rest. 
 You can't work in the condition you're in with my 
 consent not while I have a dollar to my name. Why, 
 child, you can scarcely hold up your head ! " 
 
 Bravely she strove to restore the stolid calm that had 
 perished in her rage against Patrick O'Kelleron and 
 Edward Blake. 
 
 "But I want to work, Martin," she choked. "Oh, I 
 so appreciate the friend you've been to us, but getting me 
 a position now, away from New York where I won't be 
 known as 'Patricia Pepperday,' and where I can earn 
 some money is the greatest kindness you can do." 
 
 By main force he kept down the impulse to cry out 
 that he was not her friend that he was her enemy; he 
 was a traitor, an iniquitous traitor. 
 
 "I hope you understand I don't want to bother you too 
 much," she pleaded, " but, somehow, I thought of you as 
 the one man who could and would help me." 
 
 "And so I will, my sweet, but not as you say you want 
 it. There's more than one way to skin a cat. Now, 
 listen to my plan! I know just what the doctor wants 
 you to do, for I talked with him over the 'phone after I 
 received your letter. He says that you must live in a 
 different climate. That's as easy as rolling off a log, but 
 it doesn't say you must work. Now, me why I " 
 
 She interrupted him by struggling to her feet. With 
 both hands clasped in his, she insisted, chin trembling: 
 
 "Nothing will help me but work! Nothing, Martin! 
 I can't be idle ! I mustn't think ! I'll go crazy if I do ! " 
 She paused and then, "I could have gone to some of the 
 agents, I suppose " 
 
 'If you'd done that, Pat, I'd have been mortally of- 
 fended," he interposed bitterly. "It's a sure thing, the 
 job, I mean if I can't make you change your mind."
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 109 
 
 "Well, I shan't change my mind," she maintained. 
 "Get it for me if you really can. Mother's quite recon- 
 ciled to my going away for awhile, and Aunt Addie'll take 
 the best care of her. You've already given Barney a 
 position, and I want one, too, please, Martin!" 
 
 Of a sudden he dropped her hands and, walking to the 
 window, stared out unseeingly. He had come to a momen- 
 tous decision. He would ask Patricia one question, the 
 answer to which he had vainly attempted to extort from 
 Benny when his conscience had clamored for justice. 
 
 Circling on his heel, he faced her with an inward tremor 
 which did not appear on his mask-like countenance. 
 
 " I've been wondering, Paddy," he began with parched 
 tongue, "whether every one's been talked to that hap- 
 pened to be at Cavendish's the night Brown was done 
 for?" 
 
 He spoke unlike himself, much as if he were forcing 
 the words to utterance against his will. 
 
 Why had he brought up that subject now? Patricia 
 leaned forward and stared at him. She did know that 
 behind his troubled eyes, his brain was begging for a 
 negative reply. He wanted, oh, how he longed to hear 
 her say, "No, not everybody. Benny was with me." 
 Those few words would send him into the seventh heaven- 
 of relief. But she did not say them. It did not occur to 
 her that that far-off midnight hour was of vital im- 
 portance to him or any one else now. 
 
 He was putting her off about the stock job, was the 
 thought that sent Benny's visit to Cavendish's completely 
 out of her mind. 
 
 "You've asked a perfectly useless question because you 
 don't want to talk any more about helping me," she 
 asserted, her voice breaking. "Well, I can't blame you, 
 Martin, and don't. Ever since you've known me, I've 
 been a nuisance, I can see that."
 
 no THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 For, perhaps, twenty seconds Brewer remained silent. 
 Then Benny had not been with her Labor Day night! 
 That established to a certainty with whom he had been. 
 Fatty Funny Breeches! And he had imagined so often 
 that Patricia would let light in on his problems. He had 
 waited for that! He would have to start over from 
 another angle, but where how? 
 
 "You're more than wrong in your conclusion, my 
 Paddy," he protested finally as he walked back to her. 
 "You shall have anything you want. If it's stock, then 
 stock it is. A year's experience, learning a couple of 
 plays a week, will prepare you for Broadway in the 
 legitimate. That's been my idea from the first for you 
 Pepperdays." 
 
 At his words she went suddenly limp, and, cursing 
 himself for his tactlessness, he hurried on, "The highest 
 class company where I have any influence is in Butte 
 City. I know Alf Carraby, the manager, and he's wired 
 me twice to send him a lead from New York. Want to 
 go to Montana?" 
 
 She snatched at the suggestion as if he were offering 
 her the greatest boon on earth. 
 
 "Yes, yes, I do! And, I'll never be able to thank 
 ,you never never, Martin dear ! " 
 
 "Have you picked out a name you'd like to play 
 under?" he asked with effort. " Give it to me so I can 
 put it in the telegram." 
 
 She considered a while. 
 
 "Yes! I've decided to appear simply as Patricia 
 Rushmore. That was Yum-yum's name before she 
 married the Pater." 
 
 His hand was on the door knob as she ceased speaking. 
 
 "Rushmore will answer as well as any," he said over 
 his shoulder. "Wait a minute, honey, and I'll run out 
 and wire Butte."
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY in 
 
 " Well, I've sent Carraby a day letter," he explained 
 when he returned a few minutes later. "I told him I 
 was going to ship him the prettiest lead I knew, and I'd 
 be infernally obliged to him if he didn't work her to 
 death. Now, that's all for the present. Say, Pat, 
 come out for a bite." 
 
 Scraps of conversation, far wide of their problems, 
 spanned the short distance to the Hotel Astor. Then, 
 when they had taken a table, and he had argued her into 
 ordering something other than tea and toast, he sat back 
 and looked keenly into her face. 
 
 "You don't eat enough, child," he said. 
 
 " I can't eat when I'm so unhappy," she told him, 
 " and, Martin, there's one other thing I want you to do. 
 It won't be difficult, I'm sure." 
 
 "Spill it," he directed. "I told you what's mine is 
 yours." 
 
 "I meant to put it in my letter," she went on, "but 
 then I thought, if I saw you, I could make it plainer. 
 Martin, you know Mr. O'Kelleron well enough to ask 
 him an intimate question, don't you?" 
 
 At that moment her veil caught on the leaf of a large 
 fern back of her, and if she had not been busy disentang- 
 ling it, she would have noticed the dread that pinched 
 his face. However, when she centered her gaze upon him 
 interrogatively, he was nodding his head, no traces of his 
 mental ague apparent. 
 
 "Sure, sure I do!" he replied. "Why?" 
 
 She made no effort to cloak her agitation as she said: 
 
 "I wish I could find out what he has against Mike. 
 You were in the court room when when he convicted 
 him, weren't you?" 
 
 "Yes," he admitted in reluctance. Then he ejaculated, 
 "Say, good God, what's the matter with you, Paddy?" 
 
 "Barney told me about how vile Mr. O'Kelleron was,"
 
 ii2 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 she imparted swiftly, a line drawn sharply between her 
 brows. "But it isn't possible for any man, no matter 
 how wicked he is at heart, to prosecute a boy as he did 
 Michael just for the love of it. Could you arrange for 
 me to see him to-day? I want to ask him myself what 
 the King ever did to him that I don't know. He might 
 tell me when he wouldn't you. I'll make him! I must 
 see him, I simply must, Martin! I can never be happy 
 again unless I do." 
 
 So that was the way the wind blew! was uppermost in 
 Martin's dumfounded mind. 
 
 "The King didn't do a thing to O'Kelleron, not one 
 single, blessed, damned thing, Paddy," he explained 
 aloud. "You can see that for yourself, if you use your 
 reason. Now, it's this way: Patrick only did what he 
 thought was his duty. Listen, dearie! Don't stare at 
 me like that! I'm telling you the truth. A lawyer's a 
 lawyer, and you couldn't turn O'Kelleron from a thing 
 he thought was right any more than you could lift the 
 Times Building. Lord, you haven't set up a hate against 
 him, child? Well, I swear, you have! Don't do it, 
 sweet, don't do it! Hating another fellow only brings 
 bad to yourself! I've known Patrick O'Kelleron for 
 years, and he's deep down good, as good as gold." 
 
 As if she had received a mortal wound, she shrank back. 
 
 "But I must see him," she craved. "You must take me 
 to him. If you don't, I'll go myself." 
 
 "I can't, Patricia," he returned with decision. "I 
 couldn't if I wanted to. He's left New York to be gone 
 for months. Now you want to know where he is, don't 
 you? I can see that without half trying. Believe me, 
 Paddy dear, when I say that I don't know. Oh, my 
 girl! It's been heaping up things against O'Kelleron 
 that's put that look into your eyes. You'll be right down 
 sick if you don't quit worrying. Listen, little girl, I beg
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 113 
 
 of you to forget about him, and let time ease you up 
 some." 
 
 "Forget about him!" Forget Patrick O'Kelleron! 
 When the hot, coursing blood froze to ice in her veins, ah, 
 when she was beside the Pater, stark dead, cold and 
 buried, then, perhaps, she would forget Patrick O'Kel- 
 leron, but never until then. 
 
 "I want to live always just to hate him," she panted, 
 almost swooning. "Martin, take me out of here. I don't 
 want anything to eatl I can't breathe!"
 
 ii 4 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 THEREAFTER forty-eight hours moved with funereal 
 pace to that period of time when Patricia was ready to 
 start on her long, lonely journey across the continent. At 
 length she had been forced to believe Martin Brewer's 
 report that Patrick O'Kelleron was not in New York. 
 That she would be obliged to leave the city without de- 
 livering to him the results of the sinister workings of her 
 mind had never been a part of her calculations. She had 
 carried out her threat to Martin and had made several 
 attempts to get in touch with O'Kelleron by telephone. 
 Each time, however, she had received the answer, "Out 
 of town!" 
 
 Thus she had lived through the measured minutes of 
 those two never-to-be-forgotten days as one bereft of 
 hope. 
 
 During the last midnight vigil, when sleep refused to 
 close her scalded lids, she had turned aside from the path 
 of faith and petition. Because she clung stubbornly to 
 her racking animosity against Patrick O'Kelleron, the 
 shrine of her devotion crumbled to dust. 
 
 The death knell of her girlhood sounded when she real- 
 ized that the confines of her soul were too narrow to 
 cherish a vengeful hate and the image of the smiling, red- 
 haired stranger she had met in Blackberry Lane. Her 
 heart, once a garden of love flowers, was now envenomed 
 with a desire for the blood of the man who had disinte- 
 grated the Pepperdays, and, oh, how often she declared 
 with vehemence that Patrick O'Kelleron's life was none 
 too precious to pay his debt to the Pater. 
 
 Consequently, when the dawn filtered its gray over a
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 115 
 
 frozen world, her loftiness of purpose, her far-reaching 
 ambitions for good were thrown to the worm that dieth 
 not. 
 
 Four days after Thanksgiving she was ready to leave 
 New York with no one at the station but Martin Brewer 
 to wish her Godspeed. 
 
 "I'm always on tap for you, Paddy," he told her, pro- 
 foundly stirred. "Wire me at every stop you make. 
 And don't worry, honey! Smile it through, little pal!" 
 
 But their separation furnished no occasion for smiles 
 to either one of them. She was on her way to a strange 
 country, to live among strange people, broken in health 
 and spirits; and he was returning to a gloomy mansion on 
 Fifth Avenue, where neither money nor luxury could put 
 cheer into his adored son. 
 
 Alf Carraby, Brewer's hearty, good-natured friend, 
 met Patricia the evening she arrived in Butte City. 
 
 "I say, Miss Rushmore," he said later over the supper 
 table at the Thornton Hotel, "you better take some time 
 off till you get back your land legs. The work in my 
 theater's hard, even for the best of them. We put on 
 only Broadway successes, and they're mostly teasers." 
 
 "So Mr. Brewer told me," answered Patricia. "But 
 I'm much stronger than I look. I'd like you to let me 
 have my first part to-night, if you please. I understand 
 the lead you have now 
 
 "Just like all the test," broke in Carraby. "She wants 
 to get married! A fellow gets hold of a good one then, 
 zip, she's gone!" 
 
 "You'll have no trouble with me that way," she 
 hastened to assure him. "I have but one idea, to reach 
 the top of my profession ! " 
 
 As she spoke, her face flooded with color. 
 
 "Gee, but you're some beauty when you blush, little 
 girl," complimented Carraby, laughing. "Keep the rouge
 
 n6 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 pot at your elbow, Miss Rushmore, till the mountains 
 color you up a bit. I bet your mind's eye was on your 
 picture peerin' out of the bill boards and the like 
 then eh?" 
 
 "I think it was," she admitted in far-away tones. 
 
 But she did not tell him that she expected Butte to 
 place her feet upon the first rung of fame's ladder which 
 impetus would carry her into Patrick O'Kelleron's orbit. 
 Money, popularity, influence were what she needed to 
 bring her plans to fruition. She drew a deep sigh when 
 she thought how long she would have to wait. 
 
 "You'd best go up to roost now, girlie," he suggested, 
 beckoning the waiter forward. "You're clean tuckered 
 out. I'll start you in to-morrow morning." 
 
 Then succeeded three weeks of ceaseless labor which 
 heaped upon Patricia Rushmore laurels many and to be 
 envied. 
 
 The rugged, western mountaineers accepted her as one 
 of their own family in a trice, so to speak. Much of her 
 appealing charm for her new admirers lay in her pensive, 
 slate-colored eyes. Even her actor friends outdid each 
 other in their endeavors to tempt a rare smile to the lips 
 of their leading lady. And, strange as it may seem, not 
 one of her co-workers felt a pang of jealousy when she 
 was crowned with local tribute. 
 
 Impossible was it for any one to find fault with a sad 
 child who seemed to live in a remote world of her own, 
 and who passed over praise with small comment. 
 
 Thus the weeks passed until once more Christmas rolled 
 out of the cycle of days to confront Patricia with hallowed 
 memories. She writhed in the solitude of her room that 
 morning, when she recalled the signficance of this once 
 dear and sacred time. Now, she no longer believed in 
 its symbols. Now, she denied place in her storehouse 
 of recollections for Yum-yum's teachings of the Manger
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 117 
 
 Babe; and the story of the Prince of Peace she ranked 
 with fairy tales and fables. Christmas and its joys were 
 dead and gone, hidden behind the walls of Sing Sing 
 prison and buried in the vault at Cedar Hill Cemetery. 
 
 "You aren't listening to a word I say, Patricia," pouted 
 Ruth Rowland that evening from her position at the 
 make-up table. "I've been talking a straight five minutes, 
 and you're a million miles away." 
 
 The two girls occupied the same dressing room in the 
 rear of the Carraby Stock theater and were making ready 
 for the second Christmas performance. 
 
 Startled out of her reverie, Patricia glanced at her 
 young understudy. 
 
 "Forgive me, please, Ruthie," she begged. "I was 
 thinking of a lot of things. There! Now, I'm lis- 
 tening." 
 
 "I was saying I think he's a perfect beauty," Miss 
 Rowland repeated. "He was only three rows back this 
 afternoon, and I'm sure he's the best-looking man in the 
 world. The very idea of your not seeing him! If I had 
 red hair like his, I'd never wear a hat." She leaned on a 
 dimpled hand and, across an array of cosmetics, spoke to 
 her own mirrored reflection, "He's been to three per- 
 formances this week, angel face. What do you think, 
 Pat? Does he come to see you or me?" 
 
 "You, of course, dear," Patricia decided without a 
 moment's hesitation. 
 
 Again Miss Rowland smiled knowingly at herself. 
 
 "I think, perhaps, he does," she beamed. "Lordy, I 
 hope so! I do adore big men, and he why, he can't 
 sit in an ordinary seat. His legs stick out ten yards in 
 the aisle. I wish Alfy would find out who he is. I'm 
 dying of curiosity." 
 
 A man shouted the half -hour in the corridor; then 
 heavy steps paused outside the dressing-room door.
 
 u8 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 "Can I come in, Ruth?" called a voice through the 
 keyhole. 
 
 "Surest thing you know, Alf," consented Miss How- 
 land, and she turned to greet the manager as he bustled 
 in. "Hello, old thing! Speak of angels! I was just 
 pronouncing your royal name." 
 
 Alf Carraby chuckled contentedly as he looked first 
 at one girl, then at the other. Of late, in excusable con- 
 ceit, he had boasted that even the New York stage could 
 not produce a match for Patricia Rushmore and Ruth 
 Rowland. 
 
 Playfully he tweaked Ruth's ear, laughed with her and 
 sat down on a hat box. 
 
 "Noticed a big fellow out front, chicks?" he began. 
 
 "A mountain of bone and muscle " 
 
 "With red hair on his noodle?" burst in Ruth. "Say, 
 Alf, I should think I had. I was just talking to Patricia 
 about him. But she lives so much inside of herself that 
 she hasn't even given him a squint. Think of that! 
 Mercy me, who is he?" 
 
 In mock seriousness, as if he were divulging an impor- 
 tant secret, Carraby raised his hand to his mouth and 
 spoke over the back of it mysteriously. 
 
 "Playwright!" he hissed, smiling. "Stephen Clay- 
 poole! When he isn't roisterin' about the city, he lives 
 in that house of Nelson's, some three or four miles west of 
 Galena Gulch. He'll make something of his writing, 
 that fellow will, or I'll eat my shirt, collar and all. He's 
 up in the air about meeting you, Patricia." 
 
 "There I go smash!" exclaimed Miss Rowland. "I 
 might have known it wasn't poor little foggy old Ruth he 
 came to see. Well, go to it, Pat, old dear. Far be it 
 from me to dough up your cake." 
 
 "You needn't care, Ruthie," consoled Carraby. "I'm 
 for you every time, and it's a Christmas supper for the
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 119 
 
 four of us in my rooms at the Thornton, if Patricia's 
 willing. How about it, Pat? You don't go out enough 
 to put a sparkle in your orbs." 
 
 "I'd like it, Alf," she answered, although her tone of 
 disinterest belied her words. She was traveling the lines 
 of least resistance. It was easier to accept the invitation 
 than to explain why she wanted to refuse it. 
 
 "Then drop into my rooms after the show," directed 
 Carraby, rising, "and we'll have a spread that'll swat the 
 eye out of a gormandizer," and, like a whirlwind, he was 
 gone. 
 
 In Miss Rushmore's suite at the Hotel Thornton, some 
 hours later, Ruth Rowland stood, poised like a swallow 
 ready for flight, a rabbit's paw, well rouged, in one hand. 
 She was critically examining Patricia with the eye of a 
 make-up artist. 
 
 "Here, girlie," she said, "let me schmink you up a bit. 
 You're as pale as a sheet. You can't go down before 
 your Lord Red-head, looking like a walking ghost. 
 I'd like to be in your shoes to-night, Pat! Say, 
 cutie, have you ever been in love I mean the real thing, 
 thrills and kisses and " 
 
 "No," interrupted Patricia swiftly, "no, Ruthie, of 
 course not!" 
 
 "Then believe me, dovie, you're up against it now!" 
 
 Absorbed in the delicate task of dusting the rabbit's 
 paw across Miss Rushmore's cheeks, she paused, and then, 
 stepping back to inspect her work, she chattered on: 
 
 " Now, you're beautiful, honey! Wait till I redden 
 your ears a trifle. There's nothing that'll catch 'em so 
 quick as a blushing ear. Why, I can see straight through 
 yours, you poor pigeon; it's so white! There! Now, 
 you're a picture, a perfect picture! I'll dab myself a 
 little, and then we'll rush up. Alf serves feasts fit for 
 the gods."
 
 120 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 With the aid of the mirror she deftly made crimson 
 portions of her own countenance. With a final touch 
 to her cheek bones, she whirled around. 
 
 "What's the matter with you, Pat?" she demanded. 
 "You've had tears in your eyes all day in spite of a fine 
 Christmas. No one in the Carraby theater ever received 
 half the flowers you did to-day or presents, either. 
 What's the matter, darling?" 
 
 "I I guess I'm a little lonely," conceded Patricia 
 wistfully. "You see, I've always been home with my 
 mother." 
 
 " Of course, you have," sympathized Ruth, " and it's 
 horrid to be obliged to work holidays. But buck up, 
 dear old thing. Cherries '11 soon be ripe, and then you 
 can take a run east and see your folks. By the way, look 
 and see if my petticoat shows, will you?" 
 
 Gravely Patricia inspected the hem of Miss Rowland's 
 robe. 
 
 "No," she stated, striving to throw off her gloom, "but 
 your skirt's so tight, Ruthie, I don't see how you're able 
 to wear a petticoat underneath it to hang down." 
 
 Two minutes later they halted before Manager 
 Carraby 's apartment on the top floor of the hotel. Miss 
 Rowland's smart rap was responded to by the manager 
 himself, who threw open the door and met them with ex- 
 tended hands and voluble greetings. 
 
 "Fine, little ones," he said, laughing. "You're just on 
 the tick of time. Can't say that of every woman." 
 Roguishly he winked one eye over his shoulder. "The 
 scribbler's in yonder, toasting his shins over the steam. 
 Come along." 
 
 Then, because he had a tender spot in his heart for 
 Ruth Rowland, he retained her hand as he walked be- 
 side her into the room beyond, Miss Rushmore following. 
 
 "Mr. Claypoole, Miss Rowland!"
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 121 
 
 Patricia heard Carraby's introduction as her eyes fell 
 on a flower-bedecked table. Christmas wreaths hung 
 pendent from the chandelier and, centering each window, 
 like round eyes, told their pretty tale of age-old lore. 
 Strung, star-shaped, on crimson ribbons, holly glowed 
 through the room, a hue of flame. The holly and mistle- 
 toe revived memories, bitter, indeed. She drank the 
 dregs of that cup of suffering when she saw the brilliant 
 Christmas tree in the corner. Surely it was no wonder 
 that she paid but slight attention to the low, even tones 
 of a strange voice in response to Ruth's gurgles. 
 
 Then she became aware that her own name, "Miss 
 Rushmore," had followed that of "Claypoole." She ex- 
 tended her hand mechanically, looked up and up and up, 
 and then mistletoe, holly and Christmas tree eddied 
 into a circle of fire that swung her giddily into Black- 
 berry Lane. She was staring into a smiling face, a face 
 that seemed to leap out from the days of her youth, and 
 brown eyes, touched with the gold of her dreams, were 
 glowing upon her. Her giant of Blackberry Lane! 
 Could this big man be he? The question raced through 
 her mind in the temporary lull of sociabilities. 
 
 For one moment she set white teeth into her underlip to 
 keep from crying out. Christmas memories, the red of 
 the holly, the strung ribbons had quite turned her brain. 
 
 "I've met Miss Rushmore before, Alf," spoken in a 
 ringing voice, awoke her to the realization that she had 
 not gone mad after all. 
 
 In a trance she heard Ruth Rowland laugh aloud and 
 call her, "a tyke for putting one over on them." 
 
 Alf Carraby roared delightedly into her ear: 
 
 "Are you going to let Steve hold your mitt all night, 
 Pat? Here, drop it, Claypoole, old man, and let's devour 
 the turkey. Seeing you're both so well acquainted, you 
 can spoon afterwards as much as you like."
 
 122 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 Later, in the seclusion of her own room, Patricia could 
 not recall what food had been set before her, or whether 
 she had eaten a single bite. But how vividly she remem- 
 bered every word Stephen Claypoole had uttered! 
 
 "He said he'd always believed he would see me again," 
 she whispered into the silence as the clock struck four. 
 "Somehow somehow, I've known it, too. It was that 
 wicked fiend who made me forget my my Stephen." 
 
 Thus another black mark was added to the long score 
 against Patrick O'Kelleron. 
 
 But now, in this precious morning hour, there was no 
 space in her teeming imagination for any personality but 
 that of her man, her big, big man! Her man of the 
 golden eyes, the same smiling eyes that had traveled with 
 her in fancy from Balmville into a world of triumph and 
 tragedy! 
 
 She sighed and paused in her restless pacing of the 
 room. She had found him at last, her man! Out of the 
 depths of a mountain winter he had come to her, as once 
 in a snow storm he had stood bareheaded in Blackberry 
 Lane. Glorious the mountains that had hitherto cowed 
 her into insignificance ! Winter that had stung her with 
 a wish for spring again rose joy-crowned over all other 
 seasons! 
 
 Half -past four chimed in a single musical stroke of the 
 clock's bell, and she walked directly to it. 
 
 "He's coming to-morrow no, to-day," she told the 
 timepiece. "How many hours will you have to travel 
 before then?" On her fingers she counted, "From half- 
 past four to half-past five, one hour; from half-past five 
 to half-past six, two hours" and so on and on, up to 
 high noon, did she murmur the minutes away. " Almost 
 nine hours before I see him again." 
 
 Then she sighed and went to bed.
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 123 
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 "Ix's perfectly darling of you to help me, Ruthie," 
 fluttered Patricia in the fullness of her high spirits. 
 " I'm so nervous I never could have combed my hair if 
 you hadn't! Is it all right? Tell me honestly just how I 
 look." 
 
 Ruth Rowland was sitting on Patricia's bed, inspecting 
 the small leading lady of the Carraby Stock, who was 
 stationed in front of the mirror. 
 
 "If you use a speck of rouge this morning, Pat," Ruth 
 replied promptly, "you'll look like a live broiled lobster. 
 My dear, you've certainly perked up some since yesterday. 
 Almost all the circles are gone from under your eyes. 
 And, oh, weren't you great at rehearsal this morning! 
 Alf said he'd never seen the part handled like that. 
 You pretty thing, I wish I had your picture this minute! 
 You feel a heap better, don't you?" 
 
 "Yes, I do," answered Patricia, "and my head doesn't 
 ache a bit. But, Ruth dear, I wish you would go riding 
 with us. I'm so nervous and jumpy I hate to go out 
 alone with him. Do say, 'Yes!' this once, dear." 
 
 "Not me," giggled Ruth. "I've learned the folly of 
 being de trop. Red-head would look a hole through me 
 if I minced in, dressed up to go along with you. I know 
 his selfish type. No, now, don't beg! For I say I won't! 
 You can be as jumpy as you like as long as you don't 
 jump over the moon and not be here when he arrives. 
 Was there a word said last night about taking me with 
 you two? Not a syllable! Oh, I know when I'm sot 
 on! Not that I care a cent, though. 
 
 "You just listen to what your old maid friend is telling
 
 124 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 you, Miss Pretty Gray Eyes! Stephen Claypoole'll pop 
 the question before many days are over. Take my word 
 for that! So you see you'll have to be alone with him to 
 lead up to it. Now, my advice is, girlie, you catch him 
 while he's flying by. To my notion you won't have 
 another chance like this." 
 
 Ever since she had awakened, Patricia had been hum- 
 ming snatches of the hymns she had learned at Yum-yum's 
 knee. Her happy excitement had, somehow, reanimated 
 her faith in universal good. 
 
 "Mercy, Ruth, you're absurd," she remonstrated. "Just 
 because a man takes a girl out driving is no sign he wants 
 to marry her. You know that as well as I do." 
 
 But her heart thrilled as she spoke. 
 
 "Granted, my love, if the signs aren't there," laughed 
 Ruth. "But Red-Head had as many of 'em last night as 
 a fish has scales. He ogled you this way." She thrust 
 forward her head and widened her lids until her bright 
 eyes almost popped out of their sockets. Then suddenly 
 she looked down and twisted her fingers. "That's how 
 you did! He almost ate you up with his glances, and 
 you simply couldn't stand it not all the time. It's love, 
 my dear! Pure unadulterated love the real thing!" 
 
 "What a romancer you are, Ruth! Absolutely in- 
 corrigible!" sighed Patricia, but the sigh issued from 
 smiling lips. "Do run in and take another peep at the 
 sitting room, and see if it's quite straight." 
 
 Scrambling off the bed, Miss Rowland drew her slender 
 figure to its fullest height. 
 
 "Laws me," she complained good-naturedly, "you're a 
 caution, you are, Pat. This'll be ten times I've looked 
 over that blessed room in the last hour. What do you 
 expect the chairs to turn themselves upside down?" 
 
 "Oh, no, of course not, and I know it's all right, dear. 
 I know it is. Forgive me, do! You've fixed everything
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 125 
 
 exquisitely. Now, I'll put on my hat and the flowers. 
 Oh, aren't they gorgeous?" 
 
 "You've said something now," chortled Ruth. "There's 
 nothing that tickles a fellow so much as seeing his love 
 offerings on the lady of his choice. Put one in your 
 hair, too, but be sure it shows. Oh, you are pretty, Pat 
 dear! Lordy, there's the telephone! Now, hear me! 
 I'll let him in, and then I vamoose! See?" 
 
 With a high-flung gesture of farewell, she disappeared 
 into the sitting room, and Patricia wished she would 
 hurry and take off the receiver. It did seem sometimes 
 as though Ruth were a little slow. 
 
 "Send him up," Miss Rowland's clear young voice 
 sounded back to her. 
 
 Another spell of waiting! A distant rap then voices, 
 and Ruth came tripping in, her arms loaded with roses. 
 
 "Will you see what he toted up here?" she hissed 
 softly, "and him! Well, he's what I call a beauty of a 
 man. He's better looking this morning than he was last 
 night, and that's going some! Now, I'll take one last 
 look at you There, turn around! Ah, you're glorious! 
 I'll stick these posies in the bathtub and by-by, honey 
 and good luck!" 
 
 In Patricia's sitting room, Stephen Claypoole was 
 standing at the window, looking down into the street. 
 Suspense had kept him awake and restless since he and 
 Alf Carraby had separated in the lobby of the hotel at 
 three that morning. He had found it impossible to rest 
 until Butte had begun its short day's labor. Never in 
 all the twenty-eight years of his life could he remember 
 being overwhelmed with such anxiety. Elated by the 
 memory of Patricia's cordial acceptance of his invitation 
 to ride with him, he was fearful that she was entertaining 
 him merely as a casual acquaintance. What would he 
 do if he discovered that she was married or engaged to
 
 126 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 some other man? He went cold at the thought. Perish 
 the idea if he were ever to know contentment again. 
 
 Sibilant whispers trickled out of the adjoining room, 
 a giggle or two, and then he whirled around. There 
 she was in the doorway, the girl of his meditations, the 
 girl who had glided past him over the snow twelve months 
 before and had left her image in his heart. Now, in her 
 simple, black gown, cut away at the neck, with a small 
 hat rimming her dark curls, she looked on the point of 
 darting off again. 
 
 The blood thumped like a riveting gun in his ears. He 
 endeavored to sort out of his confused mind words that 
 would please her. But there were a thousand unspoken 
 questions in her gray eyes, and he was searching for an 
 answer for all of them at once. 
 
 Then a slow, lovely smile of welcome widened her 
 mouth, and he drew a long breath. 
 
 Where were the greetings he had prepared with so much 
 care? He had forgotten them all. He was paralyzed 
 with stage fright. He wished she would give him his cue. 
 
 But in a dead silence they took two steps toward each 
 other. Neither remembered that the conventional, "How 
 do you do! I'm pleased to see you," had not been 
 spoken. Finally, after they had almost stared each 
 other out of countenance, he blurted out: 
 
 "I've come to ask you to marry me immediately, 
 Patricia!" 
 
 His voice, vibrant with passion, thrilled her with an 
 unnamed sweetness. She had not expected this master 
 of men to override every point of etiquette, to shatter all 
 her girlish ideas of courtship. She knew she ought to 
 say, "No, no, Mr. Claypoole, we are going for a ride. 
 Do sit down a moment before we start! " But how could 
 she, when she was hypnotized by the alluring shine in 
 his brown eyes?
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 127 
 
 "You're going to marry me," he announced, as though 
 he thought she had not heard him. "You belong to me! 
 You know it very well! I I belong to you! You 
 you knew last night that I'd ask you to marry me to-day. 
 Patricia, little one, don't look so frightened! I I love 
 you!" 
 
 This declaration aroused her. They were strangers. 
 He had not seen her enough to know her. She had seen 
 him but twice. To cut off his impetuous speech, she 
 flung out a hand, but he captured it and held it firmly, 
 drawing her closer to him. 
 
 "Don't! Oh, don't!" she objected feverishly, trying 
 to withdraw her fingers. "It's so quick it's too sudden ! 
 Please, please!" 
 
 "It's nothing of the kind," he contradicted with fiery 
 ardor. "It's neither quick nor sudden. You know that 
 as well as I do. I've loved I've loved you one whole year. 
 Is that sudden? I've longed for you, looked for you 
 hoping always ' he hesitated "that I'd find you! 
 Knowing that sometime I would! I went back to the 
 place where I first saw you three times. I wandered 
 about that country again and again. I've thought of you 
 ever since. Is that too quick, I'd like to know. Tell 
 me, is it?" 
 
 By this time he had possessed himself of both of her 
 hands. 
 
 As though she were following in imagination his vain 
 search at Balmville, she was considering him with a far- 
 away expression on her face. 
 
 Embarrassed, she appreciated that she should utter 
 words of rebuke, but she was too infinitely glad to hear 
 his voice, and she believed him. He did love her! That 
 blessed thought set her to trembling again. 
 
 "Don't be so disturbed, dear one," he begged, and then 
 even more pleadingly:
 
 128 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 "Oh, you do care for me a little, don't you? I mean 
 I mean you'll try, won't you? And and I'll make 
 you so happy! No, don't take your hands away. 
 Precious little hands my little hands! Dear oh my 
 dear!" 
 
 Reverently he bent from his great height and kissed 
 her fingers. 
 
 " I adore you, darlingest darling," Patricia heard as 
 she ceased struggling to be free. "Tell me you love me. 
 You won't be sorry! I can't wait a minute longer!" 
 
 Love! Was this unutterable yearning that surged 
 through her at the touch of his hot lips love? The pain 
 that had filled her heart for many weeks had gone to give 
 place to a shy, palpitating response to his words. 
 
 "Sit down," she quivered, because she could not think 
 of anything else to say. "Sit down, please, a little while 
 before we leave." 
 
 Although she attempted to speak with calmness, her 
 voice shook perceptibly. She urged him forward, but she 
 might as well have tugged at the Rock of Gibraltar. He 
 maintained his resolute position, holding her in her place, 
 repeating fiercely, insistently, that he loved her. Did she 
 love him a wee bit? If she did not now, did she think she 
 could after a while? 
 
 "I can't take a step until I know," he went on swiftly, 
 passionately. "I've lost interest in everything but you, 
 Patricia. When I realized a few days ago that I'd found 
 you, I could hardly contain myself. At first Carraby re- 
 fused to introduce me to you. I think he knew I loved 
 you. I want I want you, dear. Patricia, I want you to 
 marry me. 
 
 "I've forgotten all the nice things I meant to say. I 
 had a ream of stuff all thought out. I didn't mean to put 
 the cart before the horse, but it's done, and I won't take 
 back a word. I couldn't sleep, not a wink, after I went
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 129 
 
 home. I laid awake, just mulling over to myself how 
 much I loved you, dear, how very much I needed you. I 
 can't think of anything or any one else. 
 
 "No, I shan't let you go, not yet, not until you answer 
 me. I only want to know if you care for me at all. If 
 you don't now, will you try? Don't keep me on the rack, 
 child! A year ought to satisfy you! Surely it does!" 
 
 "It's been a long, sad year," she choked. 
 
 A look of sympathy sprang into his eyes. 
 
 " I'm sorry, very sorry," he exclaimed. " Forgive 
 me ! I forgot that I kept you up nearly all night. We'll 
 both sit down. There, now let me go on. You'll forget 
 all the sad days, dear, because because Oh, tell me, 
 have you thought of me some sometimes?" 
 
 "Yes!" Very softly she owned to it. 
 
 "And you wanted to see me again, Patricia?" 
 
 Gently he pronounced her name as though caressing it. 
 
 Had she wanted to see him again? How many, 
 many times, more times than there were hours in the 
 sped year. 
 
 " Yes, yes," she assented almost inaudibly. 
 
 In sheer relief he sighed. 
 
 "And you'll pardon me for forgetting myself this morn- 
 ing," he entreated, "for being so abrupt? Truly I in- 
 tended to wait at least one whole day before asking you 
 to marry me. Are you sure, dear, you can forgive me?" 
 
 "I've nothing to forgive," she told him shyly. 
 
 " What a sweet child you are," he smiled. " But 
 seeing you alone put every other idea out of my head. 
 Now then, I'll tell you what I thought about after I 
 left you this morning." He coughed bashfully. "You 
 said you liked what you read of my play. Now, 
 didn't you? I wanted your opinion of it." He paused, 
 a tremor passing over him. "You didn't say it was good 
 just to compliment me "
 
 130 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 "It's wonderful," she broke in. 
 
 "You couldn't speak an untruth to any one! That I 
 know. And how I wanted you to like my work! 
 But, of course, nothing will be of any avail if you 
 can't love me. Don't you need me just a little, sweet?" 
 
 "Yes!" his anxious gaze read in her silent lip language. 
 
 "God has been good to me, dear," he said in lingering 
 praise. "So good, so good! Far better than I deserve. 
 Oh, girl, my girl, can't you see we we need each other? 
 Heaven knows I want you, and and Tell me so again, 
 sweet! Tell me that you want me too!" 
 
 He was quivering with humble supplication. 
 
 "Yes," she vowed tremulously, "yes! I do, I do 
 need you. I know I do. It seems as though I must be 
 dreaming!" 
 
 Then the memory of her dependent mother, of Michael, 
 obliterated the transplendent glory that had suddenly radi- 
 ated over her unhappy life. She did not belong to her- 
 self. She could not give herself away, no matter how 
 much she desired to. 
 
 "Yes, yes," she began in agitation. "I do love you, 
 Stephen! I do! I know now I always have. But I 
 must be honest with you with myself. I can't think of 
 what I want. I mustn't see you at all after to-day. It's 
 absolutely necessary for me to work. You've forgotten 
 what I told you about my little mother last night. I know 
 you have. Oh, please don't talk about you and me any 
 more. It isn't possible for me to marry while my people 
 need me so. I must work." 
 
 She was horribly tempted to deny her own words, to 
 retract them instantly. She could imagine no heaven so 
 high, so lofty, as that of being Stephen Claypoole's wife. 
 To resist the scorching desire, she pulled at her fingers 
 to release them, but they were lost, completely lost, 
 within his great hands.
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 131 
 
 "So you shall work, wee love, if you want to," he an- 
 swered, "so you shall, sweetheart! Now, don't speak a 
 word till I've finished what I'm going to say. I certainly 
 haven't forgotten about your mother, and I love your 
 loyal soul more because of what you're doing for her. I 
 want her to be one of my mothers, too. I'll make her 
 love me, I surely will. I'll be so good to you all, she'll 
 have to like me in spite of everything. I can't even con- 
 sider going back east and leaving you here. Now, that 
 I've found you, I can't go not for a day unless I know 
 you are mine, all mine. I couldn't work! I'd come 
 straight back! Think of our being together, always, in 
 a home of our very own, Patricia. You darling, if you 
 look at me like that, I won't have strength enough to tell 
 you the rest." 
 
 Hot tears rose to her lids, and she partly stifled a 
 catching breath. She had just discovered what love 
 meant. But now she had it for her very own, she was 
 forced by circumstances to give it up. Never could she 
 put herself before Yum-yum and the King. 
 
 " I know the thought that made you sigh like that," 
 he said. "See, if I don't! You think I'm going to ask 
 you to leave Carraby. Well, so I am, but not as you 
 think, dear." 
 
 As the small hands within his grew rigidly tense, he 
 paused. Then the agony in her eyes caused him to 
 ejaculate swiftly: 
 
 "Why, my dear little girl, when you hear what my plans 
 are, you'll be as excited as I am. Now, you run get your 
 coat, and I'll finish my yarn on our ride." 
 
 As she disappeared, he called: 
 
 "Put on enough to keep you warm. It's a bitter day ! "
 
 i 3 2 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 "BuxxE, MONTANA, Thursday. 
 "Dearest Barney : 
 
 "THIS letter will surely make you jump out of your 
 skin. I'm twitching all over, writing it. You'll think the 
 impossible has happened when you read it. Notice 
 with your own eyes, boy dear, the inclosed bank draft 
 for four thousand dollars. What do you think? First 
 of all, dear, I've met the only man worth loving, 
 and what's more, I'm going to marry him! His name is 
 Stephen Claypoole, and, although he's a lawyer and has 
 practiced a lot, he's writing a play. I've never read 
 anything like it. He has asked me to star in it. Isn't 
 that great? He said you could have any part you 
 liked when I told him how fine you were. He gave me 
 in advance on my future salary five thousand dollars, 
 four of which I am sending you. 
 
 "He loves me, and I simply worship him, so what could 
 be better than that we should work together? I've 
 arranged with my manager here not to hold me to my 
 entire contract. My understudy, Ruth Rowland, will 
 play the leads from now on. 
 
 "Stephen and I are going over to Idaho Falls to be 
 married, to get away from my good stage friends. We're 
 not telling any one yet about it but you. I'm happy for 
 the first time since our trouble, dear. Be glad about the 
 money and use it. It's ours! and Mike's, too! It'll 
 start a new trial for him, and I want you to go right to 
 work on it. Give in your notice, and go to New York 
 as soon as you can. Stephen says I'm going to be so 
 productive of money that I can have more any time I
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 133 
 
 want it. I was a little worried at first for fear he couldn't 
 afford this, but he only laughed at me when I spoke of it. 
 
 "Don't tell any one, not even Martin Brewer when you 
 see him, that I sent the money or about my getting 
 married. He'll be surprised that I've left the stock, but 
 I'll explain it to him when I come east. I want to tell 
 Yum-yum and Aunt Addie myself and have the joy of 
 seeing Michael when he's told he'll soon be free. If 
 anyone asks you where the money came from, just say 
 an admirer of Mike's is putting up to prove his innocence. 
 Heaven knows that's true. There isn't a person in the 
 world who admires that sweet boy as I do. 
 
 "I've been half sick ever since I've been here. My head 
 has ached constantly. But I'm feeling a little better 
 now, and I owe it all to Stephen. He says I must take 
 a good rest after we're married, that I've worked too 
 hard. Oh, Barney, if I'd looked the world over, I 
 couldn't have found a man half as tender, as clever, or 
 one who would love me as he does. When I see you, I'll 
 tell you something perfectly wonderful. There, I'm at 
 my old tricks again, arousing your curiosity and then 
 not satisfying it. Well, I saw Stephen first near home. 
 It's a long, beautiful story, but it will have to wait! He's 
 stamping up and down, quite impatient for me to finish 
 this. He just asked me if I were writing you a book. 
 
 "Darling boy, will you do something for me? Find out 
 what Fancy Cavendish wants most; then give it to her. 
 
 "Be sure to write me all about the people I know. 
 
 "I've glanced over what I've written, and it reads like 
 a hodge-podge. 
 
 "Address your letters to Patricia Rushmore, just the 
 same as you have been doing. We won't be in Idaho 
 long. In all probability we'll come directly east. I'll 
 let you know. Stephen is anxious about his mother, and 
 I'm wild to see Yum-yum.
 
 i 3 4 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 "Be sure and give her everything she needs, and Aunt 
 Addie, too. Give them both a million kisses for me. 
 "I send you all my love, dearest. 
 
 "Your devoted sister, 
 
 "PATRICIA. 
 
 "P. S. I haven't mentioned Tepperday' to any one 
 and won't. Even Stephen knows me only as Patricia 
 Rushmore. Well, that's my name now. I shall never 
 use Tepperday' again. Stephen seems to know the right 
 thing to do at the right time. 
 
 "Last night I told him I had something in my past 
 which he must know. He laughed and said he had a past, 
 too. I tried to tell him about the Pater and Michael, but 
 I cried so he wouldn't hear me. He said that what had 
 happened before I knew him didn't amount to a flip. It 
 relieved me quite a little. He's so broad-minded and 
 splendid! Of course, it'll come out soon, and he'll be 
 heart and soul for us. He'll undo all Patrick O'Kelleron's 
 wicked work against Michael, and our boy will be free. 
 I say this because I know what kind of a man my 
 Stephen is. 
 
 "My letters from Benny Brewer are quite dismal. Go 
 see him, Barney, when you can. My regards to Martin, 
 too. I've had some wonderful letters from him, and 
 he's wired me flowers two or three times a week. I'm 
 looking forward to your meeting my Stephen. 
 
 XXXXXXXX Kisses/. 
 
 "PADDY. 
 
 "P. P. S. If you think it wise, dear, go back to Caven- 
 dish's. That is, if you can stand it. You might dis- 
 cover something there.
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 135 
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 IF the ugly, straight street in Idaho Falls had been a 
 river of water, Patricia could have danced over it without 
 wetting her feet, so exalted was she. She was not walk- 
 ing on the earth at all. Clouds of felicity enveloped 
 her. Rejoicing voices hosannaed in her uplifted soul. 
 She was married! She was married to Stephen Clay- 
 poole, royal Stephen, her kingly lover. 
 
 This Monday, this blessed Monday, was a holy span of 
 hours in the center of the universe, consecrated, torch-like, 
 above all yesterdays. To-day would be followed by un- 
 numbered to-morrows, each in its turn flavored with the 
 rapture of now! 
 
 She looked down at the hand nearest her heart. In 
 the dimly lighted church but a few minutes before Stephen 
 had slipped on the ring precious, plighting circle of gold, 
 emblem of never-ending life for them, and she had kissed 
 it in adoration for the giver. 
 
 Joyfully she compared the parson's solemn avowal, 
 "Then do I pronounce you man and wife until death do 
 you part!" to the beginning of all good. How Stephen's 
 red-brown eyes had burned with passionate tears and 
 longing when in that sacred moment he had whispered 
 into her listening ear: 
 
 "There'll be no death, no parting for you and me!" 
 
 Why, even if she were dead, she would still love 
 Stephen, and he would love her! 
 
 Always and forever, on and on through the eternal 
 ages, through God's infinite space, they would travel to- 
 gether as they walked side by side this winter evening in 
 Idaho Falls.
 
 136 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 Stephen had restored to her her faith in the Prince of 
 Peace! His love had lifted her completely out of the 
 Slough of Despond into which she had fallen that day in 
 Roosevelt Hospital. Yum-yum's King of Glory had re- 
 deemed her through Stephen. 
 
 In worshipful silence she looked up at him. Even 
 remembering all his assurances, all her own pious re- 
 flections, it was difficult to realize that such a big, big 
 man belonged to such a little, little girl. 
 
 From his great height, he beamed down upon her. 
 
 "This is the first day I've lived, Patricia," he said in 
 deep tones. 
 
 "My first day, too, Stephen," she concurred with throb- 
 bing pulses. 
 
 Then they fell again into quietude, each young heart 
 busily summing up its own gladness. 
 
 Arrived at the hotel, they went immediately to the 
 suite which Claypoole had reserved, in the living room of 
 which was a table spread for two. There were flowers, 
 many of them, and they lent to the dingy room a festive 
 hue. 
 
 "There, little maid," boasted Stephen, "doesn't this 
 look homelike? The dinner will be up in a jiffy. You 
 see, I'm going to feed my wee bird this minute. Do you 
 realize, little wife, that a cup of tea is all you've had since 
 morning?" He rounded her blushing face with both 
 hands and kissed her. "Ah, pretty love, it'll be my 
 precious task from now on to make you gloriously happy. 
 Now, take off your coat and hat and sit down. I'll 
 wait on my princess my queen! This is our our 
 wedding dinner " He hesitated and kissed her again 
 with mist-filled eyes. "My wedding dinner! My 
 Patricia, my wife! " 
 
 She flamed with the desire to tell him that she had 
 feasted and feasted sumptuously upon the choicest food
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 137 
 
 of heaven, but he would think her a silly little goose if 
 she said that. 
 
 With a masterful manner he lead her to the table, and 
 when he had seated himself opposite her, he drew a long, 
 ecstatic sigh. 
 
 "Happy, ma petite?" he questioned, smiling at her. 
 
 " Oh, Stephen! " was all she could find voice to say; 
 but the tone she said it in and the tremulous rise and fall 
 of her rounded, girlish bosom, sent the blood pounding 
 through his veins in feverish delight. He forgot that she 
 had not dined, that she would need her hands presently. 
 He gathered them closely into his as if he contemplated 
 spending the rest of his life thus. 
 
 "I'd like to know what I've done for the world to 
 have you for my very own!" he murmured, kissing her 
 fingers between disjointed words. "I'll always remember 
 how I felt when I first knew that I just had to marry you, 
 or or die!" 
 
 "Tell me about it," she said, her mouth wreathed in 
 smiles. 
 
 For a spell he studied her gravely. 
 
 "It was that first minute I saw you in the theater, and 
 I felt just as I do now," he burst forth fervently. "I 
 knew you were the most beautiful woman in the world, 
 and I wanted you! You're mine down down to this 
 little finger nail, this wee one, aren't you, adorable? Tell 
 me tell me quick, or I'll come around there, and the 
 waiter will catch me kissing you!" 
 
 "And you're mine, too," she triumphed, "clear clear 
 up to that last red curl. Put your head down here till 
 I pull it!" 
 
 And thus, like two rejoicing children, did they chatter 
 the precious nothings that are always a part of a maiden's 
 wedding day. 
 
 "Stephen dear, when we're east in our very own place,"
 
 138 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 she began rationally, after a while, "I'm going to be so 
 helpful to you. I can scarcely wait to get to get 
 home. I can see myself learning endless things that will 
 be valuable to you, and every minute I'm going to be glad 
 and grateful." 
 
 He quizzed her with merry eyes. 
 
 " I suppose, when you said 'grateful,' you thought of 
 that speck of money I let you have." 
 
 An expression of surprised reproach crossed her face, 
 and she sat up very straight. 
 
 " Speck?" she demurred. " Speck, Stephen? Why, 
 five thousand dollars is a fortune! What it meant to me 
 is past describing, and I want you to know what I did 
 with it." 
 
 To-day she intended to open up that dark cistern which 
 until now had submerged her girlhood in its bitter waters. 
 In the shelter of his arms she would tell him of the rise 
 and fall of the " Golden Pepperdays." A wonderful 
 thought came into her mind. He was a lawyer, and, of 
 course, he was clever, too, even if he did not practice at 
 present. After he had learned how her brother had been 
 railroaded to Sing Sing, he would lay down his pen for a 
 season. She could see without effort the prison gates 
 open for Michael. With the eyes of her joy-brimmed 
 soul she discerned the dear King in Yum-yum's arms. 
 Her strong husband would bring all that about, for he not 
 only loved her, but he loved justice. 
 
 " Don't spoil my bliss by sordid, financial considera- 
 tions," he remarked playfully. " My dear, what in the 
 world makes you so sober? What are you thinking 
 about? Ah, here comes the dinner." 
 
 For a few moments after the waiter had gone, he 
 busied himself, arranging her plate. 
 
 " There," he said, passing it across the table, " see how 
 you like that! But, as I was going to say, five thousand
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 139 
 
 dollars is a speck compared to what I have for you, my 
 Patricia. Now, I'll tell you a secret, and it isn't half 
 bad." He laughed a gay, boyish laugh. " But first let 
 me see you empty that plate. Then I'll give you a history 
 of my life a yard long." 
 
 In the pure joy of living and loving, she began to 
 eat. The food was the better flavored because her 
 husband had provided it. Before each mouthful she 
 halted, caressing him with her eyes over the suspended 
 fork. 
 
 It seemed then as if she had always known him, 
 yet a few weeks ago he had been a stranger, save as now 
 and then his image had ousted the fiend incarnate, to stay 
 but a moment and depart once more. Then she had 
 longed to meet him in the flesh, to hear the tones of his 
 voice! To-day he was supremely hers, and she wor- 
 shipped every red hair in his head. 
 
 " Now tell me if you like," she smiled, wiping her 
 fingers on her napkin and sinking in her chair. " But I 
 warn you I couldn't be any happier than I am this 
 minute, no matter what your secret is." 
 
 " Well, perhaps, not really happier," he returned. 
 " You'd love me just as much if I didn't have a copper. 
 But I imagine you'll be pleased. At any rate wait and 
 see. I say, darling, did you notice the marriage register 
 
 I mean how I signed it?" 
 
 At his question she shook her head in amazement. 
 
 " Nor that after putting my name on the certificate, I 
 slipped it into my pocket instead of giving it to you, 
 which I apologize for now? You know it's quite cus- 
 tomary for every wife, especially wee ones, to take charge 
 of the certificate herself. Didn't you know that?" 
 
 "No," she answered with wonderment. "No! I I 
 
 Oh, Stephen, I was so gloriously happy, I didn't 
 think of anything but but that I was your wife!"
 
 J40 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 *" You darling!" he interjected, glowing. "You can 
 say the sweetest things. They tingle a fellow from his 
 head to his heels. You quite turn my brains inside out. 
 But there, I was about to tell you that, of course, when 
 you promised to marry me, you didn't have the least 
 idea that I had heaps of money, did you, small girl?" 
 
 " Heaps of money?" she repeated. " What do you 
 mean by that, Stephen? It sounds so enormous, so 
 so big Like a lot, I mean. Aren't you what you said 
 you were, a lawyer and playwright?" 
 
 " I surely am," he rejoined. "At least I'm a full-fledged 
 lawyer and have hopes of being considered a playwright 
 with your help. Now, for a double confession! Why, 
 honey, you needn't look at me as if I were a Bluebeard, 
 ready to eat you up. Aren't you glad we've oodles of 
 money we don't have to slave for? " 
 
 " I don't just understand," she said, her gray eyes 
 raised questioningly. 
 
 Stephen chortled in merriment. He reveled in that 
 adoring expression that shone out upon him. 
 
 " Of course, you don't!" he told her. 
 
 " May I have a little more coffee, maiden fair, please? 
 Here! Here! Kiss that lump of sugar before you drop 
 it in! One lump'll be enough if you always remember 
 that," and she did kiss the sugar before blushingly hand- 
 ing him the coffee. 
 
 " I think we were talking about let me see," he 
 resumed, " I was just about to say that a girl like you 
 thinks of money only when it is necessary to give it to 
 someone else. But I won't tease you any more. 
 
 " ' Stephen Claypoole ' isn't all my name. ' Claypoole ' 
 belonged somewhere on my mother's side and ' Stephen ' 
 was tucked in along with it at my baptism." He took a 
 swallow of coffee and put the cup into the saucer. Then 
 he settled back into his chair.
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 141 
 
 " When I came away from New York, I chopped the 
 head and tail off my name, so I could be left alone a while 
 by my newspaper friends. Queer, how a chap can drop 
 out of his circle and remain incognito for weeks and 
 months! " 
 
 It did not seem queer to Patricia at all. Perhaps, 
 lawyers changed their names at will, like theatrical 
 people. She had done the same thing; only she had not 
 dropped " Pepperday " for a short period merely. She 
 never intended to use it again. 
 
 " Names don't count," she stated without the least 
 curiosity in her tones. 
 
 " You're a wonder, midget," Claypoole chuckled. 
 " Haven't you the slightest interest to know your full new 
 name? " 
 
 Her reply was not immedately forthcoming. She was 
 beseeching a divine invocation upon him in a rapturous, 
 blind worship which possessed her wholly. Finally, as 
 if her ears had just caught his question, she answered: 
 
 " My husband is Stephen, my Stephen. He still would 
 be my Stephen by any other name." 
 
 " How exquisite you are, littlest dear," he cried 
 humbly. " And who am I that you should love me? 
 What I am, what I have, is yours yours! Patricia, 
 my wife, when we get back to New York, you'll have a 
 position as good as the best." 
 
 " I suppose you mean on the stage," she quivered. 
 " Of course, I will, in your wonderful play, and and I'll 
 work harder than I ever have! I'll make you proud 
 of me, Stephen! " 
 
 " But I wasn't thinking of the stage when I said that, 
 love girl," he explained. " I mean a social position. 
 You'll have that as soon as you set foot in New York. 
 And you shan't have a care in the world not one that 
 I'm able to save you from. And you'll love my mother,
 
 142 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 too, and she'll take to you the first minute she sees you. 
 She's always wanted a daughter. As my wife you can do 
 anything you like, have anything you want, dearest! 
 
 " Won't New York gasp with excitement when I take 
 you back and say, ' Here's my wife! What do you think 
 of her? Isn't she a beauty? Isn't she a flower? Tell 
 me now, what you think of Mrs. Patrick O'Kelleron! ' " 
 
 " Patrick O'Kelleron! " The hated name struck Patricia 
 like a blow in the face. 
 
 His words trailed into a jumble of inarticulate sounds, 
 then silence. For a moment she kept her eyes upon him, 
 scarcely breathing. She could see his lips move as if 
 he were telling her something; but the buzzing in her 
 ears was too uproarious for the meaning of what he said 
 to pass into her consciousness. "Patrick O'Kelleron" 
 roared in her brain, expelling every other thought. 
 
 Then Barney's dejected voice spoke as if he were 
 bodily present, "O'Kelleron killed the Pater, Paddy! " 
 Each word pressed her farther down into the dark, deep 
 abyss of hate. Patrick O'Kelleron had destroyed the 
 Pater; under the thunder of his eloquence, her father had 
 dropped down dead. 
 
 She had married the Pater's murderer! No! God, 
 no ! It was not true ! Every drop of blood drained from 
 her face, leaving it so pale that her sand-gray, horrified 
 eyes were like burning, black pools. She shrank back 
 into her chair, her reason balancing on the very verge of 
 insanity. Her head pained as it had in the nightmare 
 days in Roosevelt Hospital. 
 
 Now and then she caught an exclamation from Stephen, 
 intermixed with endearments. The voice she loved was 
 speaking, but she did not understand one syllable it 
 uttered. He was leaning over the table; he was holding 
 out both hands to her. Frozen cold, she drew farther 
 back, her fingers stiffly clutching each other.
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 143 
 
 That man was not her husband, Stephen Claypoole! 
 He was Patrick O'Kelleron! No, he was not! O'Kel- 
 leron's- eyes were black. Barney had said so ! Her gaze 
 was riveted unblinkingly upon him. Then as she looked, 
 the red of his hair faded slowly to silver, the blood poured 
 out of his ruddy skin, leaving it death-white, and the 
 Pater's eyes, eyes slate-gray instead of red-brown, were 
 staring at her. For one awful second she still looked, 
 then her head sank forward, and she shuddered. 
 
 "My God, what's the matter,. Patricia?" The agitated 
 tones broke through the horror that encompassed her 
 around and about. 
 
 "Why didn't you tell me before?" she managed to say 
 feebly. 
 
 "I've told you, dear," he ejaculated in contrition. "1 
 wanted to surprise you! But, Heavens, child, if I'd 
 known you'd have taken it like this, I wouldn't No, 
 dear, I didn't deceive you really. Stephen Claypoole is 
 my name." 
 
 "It's not the name; it's you you!" stammered 
 from her blue lips. 
 
 "But you said, dear, I'd be your Stephen always, 
 didn't you?" he argued in earnest, troubled appeal. 
 
 Yes, she had said that very thing, but Stephen was 
 not Stephen. She was not able to answer him, nor dared 
 she look up. 
 
 "Surely, little love, you won't hold that small deception 
 against me," he went on swiftly. "Why, I thought it was 
 a good joke all the time! " 
 
 " Joke ! Joke ! " The Pater her dear, dead father ! 
 Her small hands came together against her breast in a 
 tragic gesture. 
 
 "Oh, how awful, how awful!" she moaned. 
 
 Before her words were finished, Stephen was on his 
 feet.
 
 144 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 "What a fool I was!" he exclaimed, striding around 
 the table. "Dear, sensitive, honest little heart! I 
 thought you'd laugh with me and and " 
 
 Shaking like an aspen leaf, she struggled up. In her 
 mental turmoil she was striving to think of a place where 
 she could go instantly. Stephen laid his hands lovingly 
 on her shoulders. 
 
 "I thought you'd be quite happy about it, Patricia," 
 he insisted desperately. "Look at me, sweet! Kiss me, 
 darling!" 
 
 She stood a moment, rocking under his hands. She 
 wanted to look at Stephen. She wanted to kiss him, 
 to awaken from the nightmare of hate for Patrick 
 O'Kelleron. 
 
 "Look at me, Patricia," he begged once more. 
 
 She flashed her eyes to his face. He was Stephen, 
 her Stephen! He was smiling at her pleadingly. He had 
 not murdered the Pater! 
 
 Then, as though the hand of Heaven had caught his 
 life away, Stephen's dear brown eyes and tumbled red 
 hair changed slowly. She quivered from under the fingers 
 on her shoulders. She tried to step backward. To keep 
 her reason, she had to escape somewhere anywhere. 
 Then with a final long gasp, unconsciousness blotted out 
 the composite picture of age and virile youth. Stephen's 
 great height, Stephen's broad shoulders, with her father's 
 hoary head set upon them, vanished into darkness.
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 145 
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 IN the hotel room, alone, Patricia lay on an old- 
 fashioned sofa, a damp cloth across her brow. The table 
 with the dinner remains upon it still stood under the gas 
 chandelier. Ten minutes before she had heard her 
 husband tiptoe into the hall and shut the door behind 
 him softly. Of course, he had thought her asleep all the 
 time he was beside her, motionless. How could he know 
 that she had been floundering about in a mental sea of 
 agony for an hour, her body inertly weak? Sixty 
 minutes! Sixty long centuries since Stephen Claypoole 
 had whirligigged into Patrick O'Kelleron! 
 
 Instantaneously, with the first glimmer of con- 
 ciousness, she had recollected what had made her faint 
 away. She remembered in excruciating torment how her 
 husband's glowing, clear-cut countenance had suddenly 
 been submerged by the drab gray of the dead. But she 
 remembered, too, that Stephen's voice had brought her 
 back from the edge of the same deep chasm that had 
 nearly swallowed her up in New York; even now, she 
 felt very close to it. She needed him this instant to keep 
 her from slipping into nowhere. With that thought she 
 was confronted by the realization that Stephen was not 
 her Stephen any more. He was Patrick O'Kelleron. And 
 such hate as hers for him, could never die never ! She 
 had nursed it too long for it to be any other than a sturdy 
 plant, rooted deep in the very fiber of her being. 
 
 Turning her aching head, she glanced at her watch, 
 diamond studded, on her wrist. Stephen had given it to 
 her the same day he had put the large draft into her 
 hand. How exquisitely tender he had been then.
 
 146 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 That five thousand dollars! Shuddering, she pulled 
 the blanket up about her shoulders. In some way she 
 would have to recall the sum she had sent to Barney. 
 A part of the one thousand she had already used for jim- 
 cracks. 
 
 She sat up but sank back slowly. Instead of the floor, 
 a yawning hole was there to receive her! Where was 
 Stephen? 
 
 She wanted him now. The memory of his low voice 
 soothed her a little. He was not the Pater's murderer! 
 He was not Patrick O'Kelleron, any more than she was 
 some wicked witch who went about slaying little children. 
 Yet he had pronounced that dreadful name, claiming it 
 as his own! Ah, it was false! She had heard it in her 
 sleep ! She had been dreaming, and dreams were not 
 true at all. 
 
 The pillow was wet with her tears. She could not live 
 without Stephen. He was her husband. Where were 
 those heaven-born beliefs that had stirred her so sub- 
 limely on leaving the church? Where was Yum-Yum's 
 King of Glory? 
 
 Once more she sat up, looking quite wild. Patrick 
 O'Kelleron had slaughtered her Prince of Peace! 
 Stephen's bread of life had turned to ashes in her mouth! 
 
 "God, God dear," she cried, writhing, "let me keep 
 my Stephen! Pater, blessed Pater, take take Patrick 
 O'Kelleron away quick! . . . I'm mad! Crazy 
 mad!" 
 
 Something like an icy breath brushed along her out- 
 flung hand, and she thrust it under the covering. 
 
 Was Stephen never coming back to her? Yes! Yes! 
 He had said that through all eternity, they would be 
 together! 
 
 During the ensuing minutes, she followed no conse- 
 quential reasoning. It seemed that body and soul to-
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 147 
 
 gather were caught in a bog, not deep enough to smother 
 her, yet from which she could not escape. 
 
 A step in the hall, a springing, rapid step, stirred her 
 to move, and, when Stephen opened the door and entered, 
 her face was turned toward the wall. 
 
 "Did my girlie think I was never coming back?" he 
 asked gently, stealing to her side. " I thought you were 
 asleep. I hoped you were, and I ran downstairs to do a 
 little writing. Is your head better, dearest?" 
 
 "Yes," she answered, her fingers on her closed lids. 
 
 "I brought you some fruit," he ventured. "I'll just 
 put it in this dish." 
 
 But he sighed as he said it, for she made no answer, 
 nor did the small hand uncover the sand-gray eyes from 
 which he passionately desired a smile of forgiveness. 
 
 "All the time you were asleep, dear, I cursed myself 
 for deceiving you," he said, returning to bend over her. 
 "I didn't realize how despicable it was. But you'll for- 
 give your big boy and tell him you don't mind a bit that 
 he happens to be Patrick O'Kelleron. Look at me, 
 darling!" 
 
 The rich, low voice, that had reverberated through her 
 music-loving soul since first she had heard it, was 
 Stephen's! She loved it! 
 
 "Look at me, Patricia," the voice commanded. 
 
 Under its compelling force, she slowly twisted around. 
 Eyes like her own, that had long ago closed their lids 
 to the world's unkindness, were staring at her. Fangs of 
 ice gnawed at her heart. Her lids fluttered and dropped. 
 She was horribly afraid of the haunting thing that had 
 identified itself with her husband. 
 
 "I wish I were dead," she gasped. "I don't want to 
 live any longer!" 
 
 His face grave with anxiety, he laid his cool fingers 
 on her throbbing temples.
 
 i 4 8 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 " Don't say that, dear," he pleaded. " It's the excite- 
 ment that makes you feel so. Let me rub your head a 
 little." 
 
 As his fingers traveled over her brow, she fixed him 
 with one searching glance. The Pater's strained, blue lips 
 were speaking words she did not understand. The Pater 
 and Patrick O'Kelleron were mingled together to kill her. 
 Was that it? No! Her beautiful father, spirit though he 
 were, would not hurt one hair of her head. Of that she 
 was sure ! Then then he had come back to the 
 earth to stand between her and the fiend incarnate whom 
 she had married. There came no condemning thought 
 for herself. She did not realize that the hate she had 
 hugged against Patrick O'Kelleron for months had be- 
 come sentiently alive within her soul and had taken 
 ghastly shape before her physical sight. 
 
 As if to escape the cold touch of death itself, she 
 shrank aside and frantically pushed his hand away. 
 
 "No, don't do that," she screamed. "Don't touch me, 
 don't! I don't want you to come' near me! " 
 
 A deep flush crept up from Stephen's collar and spread 
 away in waves until he was wax-white. 
 
 "Patricia," he protested, standing erect, "please do let 
 me do something for you, dear. Can't I make you 
 understand how very, very sorry I am?" 
 
 The hour had come for an explanation, or the minute, 
 rather. It was being forced upon her by a ghostly 
 presence. Then where could she go in the world where 
 Stephen's voice would not reach her and call her back? 
 Where to hide from Patrick O'Kelleron? She tried to 
 make out the lineaments of Stephen's face; but red-brown 
 eyes were sand-gray, and red hair was bleached to an 
 appalling white. 
 
 She crawled off the sofa and stood up, wavering. Her 
 husband caught her arm and helped her to a chair.
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 149 
 
 How one silly action could have so blighted his pre- 
 cious wife was beyond his comprehension. He wanted 
 to take her in his arms, to kiss away the tears, to make 
 her forget that he had not been honorable. 
 
 "Patricia," he said yearningly. 
 
 As ever, his enunciation of her name amounted to a 
 caress. Involuntarily she looked at him but encountered 
 the same frightful illusion. 
 
 "I I can't live with you ever, Stephen," she 
 stammered. 
 
 He uttered a partially muted ejaculation. Of course, 
 she was speaking words she did not mean at all. She was 
 nervous, ill ; perhaps, a relapse of. the attack she had had 
 in New York about which she had told him. She had 
 gone to work too soon. With eager desire to quiet her, to 
 remove from her mind the harassing torment that had 
 made her face so haggard, he said: 
 
 " Do lie down again, dear. You're shivering. Pa- 
 tricia, you're hurting me so when you look at me like 
 that! I'm your husband your Stephen! Don't you 
 know me? Why why you can't leave me! I 
 couldn't I couldn't live an hour without you. Do lie 
 down and rest, sweet." 
 
 What seemed the brackish tears of months gathered in 
 her throat; drooping, blue- veined lids lowered to blot 
 out the sight of the death mask. She could not lie down 
 and told him so. 
 
 "Poor darling," he murmured. "Then let me put this 
 blanket around you. Can't you tell your boy what makes 
 you feel so badly?" 
 
 "Because because I'm going to leave you." The 
 words fluttered out on a breath. 
 
 One of her slender hands made impossible his effort to 
 look into her face. Then he knelt down beside her. 
 
 "No," he interjected, "don't say that! Don't,
 
 ISO THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 Patricia! You love me, you do! You've told me so 
 over and over." 
 
 "But I'm going away from you to-day now," she 
 insisted. 
 
 Profoundly alarmed, he arose to his feet. The un- 
 speakable fear she had inspired in him was burning him 
 up. 
 
 "But love always forgives, dear," he urged humbly, 
 "and we love each other too well to let anything separate 
 us. What more can I say to express how sorry I am for 
 for deceiving you, or what can I do? You have but 
 to tell me, and I'll do it immediately. 
 
 "Why, Patricia dearest, you're nervous and afraid. I 
 can see that, honey! You think that, because I kept one 
 thing from you, you can't trust me; but you can, you 
 can! Listen, dear! I'm your own, own husband, and 
 you belong all to me to me, Stephen." 
 
 He leaned over and placed his hand under her chin. 
 With his fingers cupping her cheeks, she stared into his 
 eyes, stared at the face of a dead man that was haunting 
 her to insanity. 
 
 "Now, smile at me, dear," he begged encouragingly. 
 " I'm perishing for just one kiss, Patricia." 
 
 "Go away, for for God's love," she ejaculated, 
 cringing from him. 
 
 "I'm almost beginning to believe, to think you mean 
 what you say," he said in limp fashion. "But it isn't 
 true. It isn't! It can't be! There's a frightful mistake 
 somewhere. Let's find it right now, littlest dear." 
 
 Because her heart was hammering against her side, 
 one shaking hand went up to it. 
 
 "Won't you go away for a little while please, please, 
 Stephen" she petitioned piteously. "Yes, it all has been 
 a mistake, a fearful mistake! My my marrying 
 you!"
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 151 
 
 His face went more ashen white! If there had been 
 a mistake, then it was a disastrous time to discover it, 
 not two hours after the marriage ceremony. 
 
 "What do you mean by a mistake, Patricia?" he de- 
 manded. 
 
 What he had done to Michael seemed no part of the 
 accusation she had to make against him. He was a 
 murderer ! Her duty lay in telling him so ! 
 
 " Stephen," she gulped, looking up at him, " I I " 
 
 Her voice broke, and she sobbed convulsively. The 
 grisly gray head on her husband's shoulders had moved 
 slowly in negation. The Pater had commanded her to 
 silence. 
 
 "I can't return the money you let me have, Stephen," 
 she burst out, " for I haven't it now. But I'll go to New 
 York and work, and and you shall have the whole 
 amount as soon as I can earn it. Oh ; I want to go home 
 to my mother! I won't bother you! I'll never try to 
 see you!" 
 
 Stephen's head seemed to spin around like a top; his 
 ears hummed as though a million bees were buzzing 
 within them. Could she mean to leave him forever? 
 That he could not and would not bear! 
 
 "If I take you to Butte, will you stay there with me a 
 while?" he asked mechanically. "Will you give me one 
 more chance, Patricia?" 
 
 "Oh, I don't know what I'll do," she groaned. "I don't 
 know I don't know! " She put her hands to her aching 
 head. "No, I can't promise to live with you in Butte 
 or any where else. Stephen, will you let let me have 
 these rooms alone now until we go away from here?" 
 
 "No," shot from his lips. "No, Patricia, I will not! 
 You're my wife, and you married me of your own free 
 will. You think I don't love you, but I do, my Patricia!" 
 
 Suddenly, unexpectedly he snatched her from the chair
 
 152 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 into his arms. He pressed her face against his breast 
 fiercely. He knew he was hurting her, nor was he 
 sorry. He was simply crazed with a longing which 
 nothing could assuage but subduing the girl who had 
 married him and then had thrust aside his adoration as 
 a useless, unvalued thing. 
 
 "I love you, my girl!" beat upon her ears over and 
 over. "You're mine, sweet," seemed to tear at her heart 
 as if small knives were hacking at it. "Never, so long as 
 I live, will I let you go!" 
 
 Then his lips burned against hers, roved in passionate 
 strength over her cheeks and against her mouth. Carried 
 with him into the depths of a great passion, she rushed 
 along on its tide, blind and deaf to all but his kisses and 
 endearments. When he ceased, she hung in his arms, 
 half-fainting. 
 
 Then all of sudden the sad-eyed phantom with its 
 pasty, lackluster face took shape again in the line of her 
 vision. Then it was true! The Pater had left the high 
 heavens, had come down to earth to condemn her union 
 with Patrick O'Kelleron! She was not crazy at all. The 
 simple fact had been proved to her that spirits were 
 permitted by God to make known their desires to their 
 earth-bound loved ones. The Pater had done that! He 
 would not allow her to lie one second on the heart of 
 the man who had crushed the Pepperdays. 
 
 She wrenched herself free, fled past the distracted 
 man and vanished into the sleeping room, leaving behind 
 but the faintly perceptible scent of violets. 
 
 On tossing the tumblers in the lock of the door that 
 separated her from her husband, Patricia staggered 
 across the room to the dressing table and flung herself 
 into a chair. 
 
 "Stephen, Pater, Patrick O'Kelleron!" fell from her 
 lips. " God, isn't it awful!"
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 153 
 
 She sent a quick glance over her shoulder, half-expect- 
 ing to see the ghost of her father drift through the panels 
 of the door. 
 
 When, in relief, she turned back, her eyes encountered 
 her own face in the mirror. The reflection thrown upon 
 her from that circle of bevel-edged crystal, was dead 
 white. She held her breath and listened. No sound 
 came from the man she had just left. She dropped her 
 chin into her hand, clenching her fingers around it. She 
 set small teeth together, grating them, saw-like. 
 
 And hours later found her still sitting, head down on 
 her folded arms, and deep silence in the room beyond.
 
 154 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 TEN hours slowed by, eternal hours to Stephen Clay- 
 poole. His wedding night had been spent in a state 
 of dazed wakefulness. Hurt pride had kept him from 
 forcing himself into his wife's presence. She had locked 
 the door; that was enough! 
 
 Early morning found him prowling restlessly around 
 deserted streets, waiting for the barber to take down his 
 shutters. 
 
 Later, when he entered their suite, Patricia was sitting 
 near the window, her hands clasped together in her lap. 
 The night had given her a small relief that her husband, 
 in his ignorance, had not received. Her father might 
 have been present in the flesh from the way in which she 
 had talked in whisperings to him. In her superstitious 
 fear she had promised the dear ghost over and over that 
 she would acquiesce in his guidance whatever it might be, 
 until towards morning she had fallen into a fitful sleep. 
 
 She was relieved to find Stephen absent when she crept 
 into the sitting room. The next hour, perhaps, would 
 separate them forever. She must accustom herself to 
 the thought so that she would not break down at the last 
 minute. 
 
 Before closing the door, Stephen halted a moment. 
 One quick glance at his wife told him that she was un- 
 doubtedly ill, and that, like himself, she had slept but 
 little. Yet, that she was in the same frame of mind as 
 when she had raced away the night before, was borne in 
 upon him significantly. She had given him no greeting; 
 nor had she deigned him a look. 
 
 "I'll order coffee, Patricia," he said, walking to the
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 155 
 
 telephone, "and toast, too. You'll drink some coffee, 
 won't you?" 
 
 "Yes, Stephen, please," she murmured. 
 
 Silence reigned until the waiter appeared with the tray 
 and had gone out again. Each managed to swallow a 
 cup of hot coffee, but the food remained, untasted. Bit- 
 ter bewilderment kept the young husband from making 
 impetuous demands, and Patricia was studying how to 
 frame requests that would hurt him least. 
 
 Suddenly she stammered : 
 
 "Stephen, if if I promise to return that money, may 
 I go to New York to-morrow?" 
 
 "You may not," he retorted. "Your place is with 
 me." He made the statement swiftly, smothering a desire 
 to blurt out the thoughts that had tortured him during the 
 night. 
 
 "But you won't be happy if you keep me with you," 
 she said in anguish. "Can I say more than that I'm 
 sorry, oh, so sorry for for " 
 
 "Yes, you might say a great deal more, if you would, 
 Patricia," he interrupted. "You might be truthful with 
 me! Just what do you wish me to believe?" 
 
 "I don't know what I want you to believe," she replied 
 wearily. "Only this, Stephen: I can't I can't live with 
 you." 
 
 They were the same words she had spoken the day 
 previous and, because she had had time to reflect, they 
 cut him deeper. 
 
 "Didn't you intend to live with me when you married 
 me?" he choked. 
 
 She was hurting him horribly, she knew that. Her 
 own nerves were like thistles pricking inward. As yet 
 she could not truly look upon the Stephen she had loved 
 and married as the Patrick O'Kelleron she had only heard 
 about. There seemed to be three entities in the one big
 
 156 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 frame of her husband, her own man whose voice was 
 sweeter to her ears than any other sound, the Pater, his 
 incorporeal eyes demanding her supreme sacrifice, and 
 Patrick O'Kelleron. 
 
 "Didn't you, Patricia?" he asked once more, greatly 
 agitated. 
 
 She had to strangle a desire to leap into his arms, to 
 implore him to help her, but fear of the Pater's disap- 
 probation held her back. 
 
 "I I didn't know what I was doing," she faltered, 
 "and I suddenly realized I couldn't live with you. Oh, 
 won't you let me go, Stephen?" 
 
 Stephen Claypoole guided his horses out of Butte 
 in a stupefaction that had come upon him in Idaho Falls. 
 
 His wife's trance-like state, which had settled her into 
 a silence that he could break but momentarily, gave him 
 grave concern. 
 
 And it was not until they had left the snow-draped 
 city behind them that Patricia aroused herself. 
 
 "Where are we going, Stephen?" she appealed, scarcely 
 above a whisper. "We're driving directly away from the 
 town, aren't we?" 
 
 By this time the horses were plodding up grade and 
 needed but little attention. Inwardly congratulating 
 himself that she was already beginning to manifest an 
 interest in external things, he half-turned about in her 
 direction. 
 
 "We've just left Galena Gulch, dear," he replied. 
 
 " Stephen, Stephen dear," she cried in a panic, 
 "you're not taking me to the 'Eagle's Nest!' Are you? 
 Couldn't we stay in Butte a while, or go somewhere else? 
 I can't go up there with you!" 
 
 The look he bent upon her was full of tender patience, 
 indulgent of her whims.
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 157 
 
 "Don't say that till you've tried it, sweet," he admon- 
 ished. "I'm hoping you'll love it as I do, and I'm sure 
 it'll do you a lot of good." 
 
 Queer little sensations ran the length of her spine, and 
 it was not the winter gales that caused them. His words 
 were kind and spoken in the voice that invariably tended 
 to tranquilize her, but there was an undercurrent of in- 
 flexibility about his whole attitude that betokened his de- 
 termination to be master. She was growing mortally 
 afraid of her big husband. She attempted to calm her- 
 self. She remembered how gallant he had always been. 
 Then a wave of faintness swept over her as she recalled 
 that Stephen was not Stephen any more. He was 
 Patrick O'Kelleron, and and he delighted in killing 
 people. The finality in his tones sent her into a hope- 
 less silence. 
 
 On and on, among the swirling sheets of drifting snow, 
 they traveled, farther and farther into the vast spaces of 
 the hills, until Patricia began to realize what he had 
 meant when he had said, "The 'Eagle's Nest' is far away 
 from the rest of the world." 
 
 About the time the audience was leaving Alf Carraby's 
 theater in Butte at the close of the afternoon performance, 
 Stephen drove into a wide clearing and pulled his horses 
 to a stop. 
 
 "Here we are at last, Patricia," he said, turning to her. 
 
 Through her tears, which she could not swallow away, 
 she saw a house, its back door set close to a belt of 
 mountain trees. The front of it was cheerful, a shining 
 light displayed in each window. Smudges of smoke 
 poured from the chimney and were carried into the snow 
 by the wind. 
 
 She had visualized every change that might come for 
 her save this the "Eagle's Nest!" Did Stephen intend 
 to keep her here? No, he would not do that! It would
 
 158 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 be the extreme of cruelty! Yet, as she stole one look at 
 the brawny shoulders of the man, she decided he could 
 be as cruel to her as he had been to the rest of the Pepper- 
 days. 
 
 "I can't go in," she gulped between low-caught sobs. 
 
 "Bless us, midget," he expostulated tolerantly, as to a 
 fractious child, "surely you can!" He kicked away the 
 fur robe and jumped to the ground. "Now, then, I'll 
 help you out!" 
 
 She closed her eyes when she felt herself lifted by two 
 powerful arms. A short whirl through space, and the 
 next thing she knew she was standing dizzily on the porch, 
 her hand held tightly within her husband's warm clasp. 
 For an instant they clung together. To lean upon his 
 decisive strength was a relief to her distracted mind, and 
 sensing her involuntary yielding, he vowed happily to 
 himself that if loving kindness could restore his wounded 
 "birdie," he would give it to her in measureless quanti- 
 ties. 
 
 " We're home, Patricia," he breathed into her ear. 
 
 "The horses, Ming," he gave order to a Mongolian who 
 had appeared in the doorway, "and then supper as soon 
 as you can get it ready." 
 
 Then he guided Patricia into a spacious living room 
 where blazed a huge log fire. 
 
 It was furnished with an eye to elegance. Luxurious 
 chairs clustered about the grate. A long, refectory 
 table, used evidently for dining, stood between two of the 
 three windows. In a corner and she stared at it as if 
 suddenly a friend had loomed up before her was a small 
 baby grand piano. She felt a frantic desire to fly to it, 
 somehow, to seek refuge. Making no move to take off 
 her wraps, she left Stephen's side and walked over to it. 
 It was on the type of her own piano at home, and loneli- 
 ness swept her like a tempest. A sheet of song music was
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 159 
 
 spread open as though some one had just ceased singing. 
 Then she leaned against the piano and wept stormily. 
 
 "Let me help you off with your furs, Patricia," ex- 
 claimed Stephen, himself moved almost to tears. 
 
 She looked so tiny as she stood there in that drooping 
 attitude that he crossed the room, eager to soothe her. 
 
 "Don't feel so badly, dear," he entreated. 
 
 She shivered away to escape the hand she felt on her 
 arm. 
 
 "My darling, won't you listen to me?" he breathed. 
 "Surely surely you know how I love you." 
 
 Instantly she was erect. She crushed back the hysteria 
 that swelled her throat full. Then with trembling fingers 
 she wiped her eyes. She knew he was waiting for an 
 answer. That he was suffering was evident in his loud 
 breathing. With a superhuman effort she made herself 
 say: 
 
 "The piano made me homesick. I'm sorry! I'll be 
 perfectly all right in a minute." 
 
 Under the circumstances it was a plucky fight she 
 fought for calmness. For one fleeting second her eyes 
 roved over the shining top of the piano, then centered on 
 the sheet of music. Familiar words came out of the 
 whiteness of it, and she read : 
 
 "There is a River, the Streams whereof shall make Glad 
 the City of God. Rearranged by Martin Brewer. Dedi- 
 cated to the 'Golden Pepperdays.' " 
 
 A blast of wind shook the house and shrieked through 
 the mountain trees. Then it quieted into moaning 
 sounds, like the groans of souls in torment. 
 
 She was still staring at the song she had sung to 
 Michael, to David, the shepherd boy. A low, hoarse 
 cough reached her ears. Stephen was near her. Stephen 
 was coughing! He was waiting for her to speak. 
 
 "Stephen," she gasped, putting her hands over her face,
 
 160 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 "Stephen, take me away from this awful place! Please 
 tell me you will to-night now!" 
 
 Every word was a wail, uttered in pain. 
 
 In spite of his good resolves, renewed but a minute or 
 two before, his response was harsher than he intended or 
 realized : 
 
 "Don't be foolish, child!" 
 
 Then he lapsed into the watchful silence that had 
 become his habitual attitude since leaving Idaho Falls. 
 
 He was so quiet that she flung around on him, but it was 
 not Stephen, her smiling Stephen, who stood there. His 
 giant figure, erect, vital, its grouped muscles plainly re- 
 vealed through his clothes, carried a dead man's head! 
 She dropped her lids in unsuppor table wretchedness. 
 Her father's spirit had followed her from Idaho Falls to 
 Butte, through Galena Gulch and over the hills to the 
 " Eagle's Nest." She opened her lips to tell Patrick O'Kel- 
 leron that he and the dead Pater would kill her between 
 them, but no sound came. Some gripping power kept 
 locked within her the words she felt she must speak. Yet 
 apart from her father and O'Kelleron, there was Stephen. 
 He was one of the trinity of men that controlled her. She 
 must always remember that. 
 
 The thought pressed upon her that, if she were miser- 
 able, he was as much so, and enormous sympathy for them 
 both rose and stifled -her. Above all things she wanted 
 Stephen to be happy. She wanted to be happy her- 
 self, too! But she never would be never! She stepped 
 aside to avoid him and walked to the grate. 
 
 When he followed her and removed her long fur coat 
 and hat, she made no resistance. She seemed to the 
 troubled husband to be again enveloped in a trance. How 
 little-girl-like she was with the locks of glistening hair, 
 curling damply about her neck! She was his! His wife, 
 so delicately small !
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 161 
 
 To bring her back to normal womanhood through 
 tenderness, through love, was his task from now on. 
 
 An hour later he piloted her over the house and in- 
 sisted that she take any room or rooms for which she 
 might have a fancy. 
 
 "There aren't so many to pick from, Patricia," he ex- 
 plained, "but take your choice. I suggest the snuggery, 
 the suite with the sun porch." 
 
 "No, those rooms belong to you/' she told him. 
 
 She had noticed his papers scattered about on the walls 
 and tables. There came into her mind the sickening 
 thought that where she slept, what she had to eat, made 
 not the slightest difference so long as Stephen insisted he 
 was Patrick O'Kelleron. 
 
 She chose a good-sized chamber that adjoined the living 
 room, and, as she listlessly arranged her toilet articles on 
 the dressing table, she dully denied she would be there 
 long enough to go to all that fuss and bother. 
 
 Immediately after dinner, which was a dismal meal, in- 
 deed, Stephen left her sitting by the grate, and she saw 
 him no more that evening. Sometimes she found her- 
 self listening intently for the unlatching of his door and 
 wondering if he were going to retire without bidding her 
 "Good-night." She did not realize how difficult it was 
 for a man of strong natural tendencies to contemplate her 
 loveliness and hold in check an overweening passion. 
 
 Several times a great desire came to her to touch the 
 piano. Once she tiptoed to the instrument, but "There is 
 a River" sent her cowering back to her place near the 
 fire. 
 
 Occasionally she heard her husband stir about behind 
 his closed door, and the frequent sputter of matches evi- 
 denced how often he lighted a cigarette. It would be un- 
 truthful to say that she was not tempted, more than once,
 
 162 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 to creep into his den just to be near him. She knew she 
 would not dare to look at him. Yet, she felt persuaded 
 that his voice would dissolve the pain in her head. 
 
 She could find no future for herself in the perilous 
 path her mind traveled. In a short time Stephen would 
 hate her, and the dawning of that day would find her in 
 her grave. The vast silence, broken only by the soughing 
 of the wind through the mountain passes, bore down upon 
 her in appalling isolation. If one evening were so long, 
 how could she bear a succession of them!
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 163 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 THE small hand of the clock set in a traveling case on 
 the table pointed to the hour of nine as Patricia opened 
 her eyes. She had been dimly conscious of the strange, 
 gray chamber with its shadowy corners since the dawn 
 had peered in at the window. Between spells of dozing 
 she had been aware of the Chinaman moving in the living 
 room, the crackle of the small wood in the grate and later 
 the roar of the flaming logs. It was Stephen's speaking 
 that inhibited every suggestion of further sleep. 
 
 "Arrange a tray for Mrs. Claypoole," she heard dis- 
 tinctly in tones resonantly clear. "Coffee, fruit and toast, 
 Ming." 
 
 Stimulated to action, Patricia crawled to the floor, 
 every muscle uttering a separate protest. Rather would 
 she have stayed under the blankets for the rest of the 
 day. But she preferred going to the table for her break- 
 fast than that Stephen should enter and find her in bed. 
 
 She shivered into her clothes swiftly, silently. Stab- 
 bing a pin into her collar, she peered out through the 
 frosted window pane. The blizzard of snow and wind, 
 threatened yesterday, had taken possession of the hills 
 during the night. 
 
 What a wild world it was, this country to which Stephen 
 had brought her! All of a sudden her life had been torn 
 from its moorings and cast into just such a whirlpool of 
 storm. 
 
 Again Stephen spoke outside, and she dashed precipi- 
 tately to the door. But it took more than courage to 
 open it. Another prod in the shape of an order to the 
 Chinaman forced her hand to the knob.
 
 1 64 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 "Get a vase of water, and put the roses in it, Ming," 
 were the words that touched her deeply. 
 
 She opened the door, and, as she closed it, she gave 
 timid greeting: 
 
 "Good-morning, Stephen! It's a fearful morning, isn't 
 it?" 
 
 Stephen dog-eared his book and, rising, placed it on 
 the shelf. He went ghastly pale as he noticed that she 
 studiously kept her eyes averted from him. 
 
 "Good morning, Patricia! The blizzard's here to 
 stay for a time, I imagine," he answered. "Come to the 
 fire. I was just going to bring you some coffee." 
 
 "Thanks very much," she murmured, sinking into a 
 chair. "I was quite able to get up. I don't want to 
 put you to any bother." 
 
 A short silence succeeded during which Claypoole was 
 striving for composure. 
 
 Finally, "Did the wind keep you awake?" he 
 asked. 
 
 "No, not the wind," she replied, one hand clasping the 
 back of the other. "I I was thinking of you, Stephen." 
 
 The restraint he had placed on his nerves suddenly 
 broke down. He forgot entirely that he had spent the 
 night resolving never to speak one harsh word to her or 
 one recriminating sentence. 
 
 "Why of me?" he demanded bitterly. "You loathe 
 me so, you can't bear to look at me." 
 
 "Loathe him!" Why, she loved every inch of him! 
 He knew that ! She had told him so a million times ! No, 
 the person she abhorred with the fervor of a devotee for 
 his religion, was Patrick O'Kelleron. She turned abruptly 
 and met his brilliant, almost scornful eyes.. 
 
 Against the background of the ice-embellished window, 
 he appeared supernatural, uncannily gray to her afflicted, 
 unbalanced mind.
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 165 
 
 Flushing painfully, she crouched again before the fire. 
 She felt as if her body were wrapped in ice. But her 
 head was so full it seemed ready to split open at any 
 moment. The pounding in her ears was fearful. For an 
 instant she grew tense with the longing to brave both the 
 Pater's deathly presence and the memories of Patrick 
 O'Kelleron and find her husband. But she relaxed into 
 limpness when the thought went through her mind that 
 Stephen was Patrick O'Kelleron and that her father had 
 come again to haunt her away from the man she had 
 married. 
 
 "I asked you why you were thinking of me," Stephen 
 repeated. 
 
 Tears were brimming her lids, and tears were in her 
 voice, too, when she answered: 
 
 "Why why, I don't know exactly, Stephen! But 
 but I tried to pray for you, and and for myself." 
 
 "I suppose you thought Stephen Claypoole needed 
 praying for," he mocked. "Did you mention in your 
 petitions, Patricia, that I was a liar and a deceitful cad?" 
 
 "You know I did not," she breathed. "I want, oh, I 
 want you to be happy, Stephen, and I want to be happy 
 myself!" 
 
 He sat down in a chair so heavily that its joints 
 creaked. 
 
 "And doesn't it strike you that you're taking a queer 
 road to make either one of us happy?" he questioned. 
 
 "I don't know," she acknowledged, and surely she had 
 told the truth. She had no understanding that would 
 lead either one of them into a way of peace. 
 
 "But won't you talk to me, Patricia?" he burst forth. 
 "Nothing can be different if you won't listen to 
 reason. . . . You're breaking my heart." 
 
 As he spoke, he throbbed with mixed emotions. She 
 was surpassingly beautiful this morning, even though she
 
 1 66 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 was more ethereal than he had ever seen her. There was 
 a babyish droop about her mouth, too, that mouth made 
 for kisses, that drove him to madness. 
 
 "Then let me go away," she rejoined, "and and for- 
 get about me." 
 
 He sprang 1 to his feet in such haste that his chair went 
 tumbling backward, but he remembered, as he righted it, 
 his resolutions of the past night. 
 
 "I forgot to say that there are letters here for you, 
 Patricia," he said after a momentary pause. "I tele- 
 phoned the messenger who brings up my mail to inquire 
 for yours, too. Forgive me, dear, for saying what I did. 
 I I quite forgot myself. I the fact is Ah, here's 
 Ming with the breakfast." 
 
 The appearance of the Chinaman put an end to 
 Stephen's apology. Patricia seated herself before the 
 coffee urn, and her husband, as if he were not in the least 
 interested in them, passed her several letters which she 
 took with a suppressed, "Thank you!" She glanced at 
 them and laid them, unopened, beside her plate. Coffee, 
 almost scalding hot, partially succeeded in washing down 
 the marble-like ball that had cemented itself in her throat. 
 
 "Please eat something, do, Patricia," insisted Stephen 
 as he noticed her untouched breakfast. "You don't eat 
 enough to keep a bird alive! Won't you, dear? An 
 egg, perhaps; some cereal?" 
 
 Because she wished to please him, she forced herself 
 to eat a piece of toast. Then she went back to the grate 
 with her letters in her hand. 
 
 There was one from Barney which, instead of bringing 
 her joy, only piled on her agony. The money was a God- 
 send. He had given in his notice. He would fly to New 
 York to start the good work for Michael. She could 
 write him at Cavendish's. He wished her a thousand 
 happinesses and added:
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 167 
 
 "Here's hoping your new man deserves you, Paddy 
 dear. Give him my congratulations on winning the finest, 
 sweetest girl in the world." 
 
 A letter from Michael she slipped into her pocket. She 
 dared not read it in her husband's presence. 
 
 She flung Barney's missive into the grate and sank 
 back sighing. O'Kelleron money was already at work 
 for Michael! 
 
 "I received a letter from my mother this morning," 
 remarked Stephen when the silence grew oppressive. 
 "She'll be glad when I get home." 
 
 "Do you know when you're going back?" Patricia 
 asked, turning her head slightly. 
 
 "No, not yet! I can't say I do! I'd start for New 
 York to-morrow night if you were better, but my first 
 duty is to you of course. My sweet, my own dear 
 little girl" 
 
 Time to finish his appeal was denied him because 
 Patricia arose from her chair. Anguished, she glided into 
 her room and closed the door. She could not endure the 
 sadness in his dear voice. If for five minutes he were 
 Stephen, one minute separated from the Pater and the 
 hateful Patrick O'Kelleron, she could find a willing tongue 
 to open her breaking heart to him. 
 
 Her room was warm now. Ming had set a grate fire 
 going, and she sat down in front of it. She drew forth 
 Michael's letter, but its reading gave occasion for bitter 
 sorrow. It was so typical of the dear King, that letter. 
 He was as happy as a fellow could be under the circum- 
 stances, he wrote. Yes, he hoped to get a new trial, but 
 he did not want any one to worry about it, even if it could 
 not be accomplished He would very much like to see her 
 and hoped she would come to Sing Sing as soon as she 
 returned to New York. He sent her lots of love, and that 
 sentence was almost illegible with his tears.
 
 1 68 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 The morning passed drearily enough. She dared to 
 issue forth to luncheon but ate alone, for Stephen stayed 
 in the snuggery. 
 
 Miserably she crept back to her chamber and spent the 
 afternoon in vain planning.
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 169 
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 
 FUTILITY stared Martin Brewer in the face. Although 
 the fear that had loomed upon his horizon at Michael 
 Pepperday's conviction had gradually lessened, he was 
 swallowed up by a new, strange emotion, that of de- 
 testing himself. He had never cherished the slightest 
 conceit as to his genius or his intellectual power; but he 
 had always believed in his work and adored it. Not at 
 this juncture, though! Love had died on the tip of his 
 pen, and, shocked at the tragedy, he had laid his manu- 
 script aside. 
 
 In defense of Benny, who now in a dangerous condi- 
 tion called upon his protective instincts more than ever, 
 he had prostituted his soul before a contemptible scare- 
 crow. His bete noir was William Foster, or, to be more 
 exact, the letters he had received almost daily from that 
 young man, since he had requested him not to come to 
 his office again until he was sent for. 
 
 In answer to Foster's effusions, Martin had sent hush 
 money, but, as he told himself grimly, it was like throwing 
 sand into a rat hole. Yet, he had to keep the rogue quiet 
 until he found out just what Benny knew, just what he 
 had done. 
 
 The thought continually gnawed at Brewer's conscious- 
 ness that he ought to go to the District Attorney's office, 
 make his statement and then thrust the bulk of his fortune 
 between the law and his son. 
 
 Once he had actually gone downtown to rid himself of 
 the monstrous secret, but, on reaching the prosecutor's 
 office, he had tamely asked news of Patrick O'Kelleron 
 instead. He had never been able to summon courage to
 
 i yo THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 go again. He always salved his conscience with the assur- 
 ance that sometime Benny would be well enough to con- 
 fess just what he had done at Cavendish's. 
 
 For a long while he had hung in suspense between two 
 evils, the lesser of which he had decided were Foster's 
 blackmailing missives. To see the fellow every day or 
 so, as he had at one time, to put himself in the way of a 
 detailed conspiracy with the pestilential cur, well, that 
 he had not been invested with strength to stomach. 
 
 But now he had to endure an interview with Foster 
 whether he wanted to or not. The mail had delivered 
 a note from him that contained this terse statement: 
 
 "It's important that I should see you immediately. 
 There's talk of a new trial for Michael Pepperday. 'Phone 
 me an appointment." 
 
 Sighing, Martin fell to thinking about the Pepperdays. 
 He recalled the hour he had helped carry the Pater to 
 his grave in Balmville. The remembrance of his scenes 
 with Adelina sent hot waves over him and surrendered his 
 spirit to ignominious self-opprobrium. 
 
 But Adelina was not the only Pepperday whose shadow 
 hung over him. Tucked away in his desk was Alf Car- 
 raby's letter from Montana, saying that Patricia had left 
 the stock company and disappeared. At the same time 
 Carraby had expressed the suspicion that her departure 
 was connected with an unknown author who, so everybody 
 said, wanted to marry her. 
 
 Hourly Martin had been hoping for some word from 
 Lady Pat, and his present anxiety about her only sharp- 
 ened his other worries. 
 
 Meantime William Foster was hurrying to obey 
 Brewer's summons to call at his office. He had looked 
 forward to this hour with avidity. Brewer would be as 
 swift to give him the part he desired as he had been in 
 keeping him supplied with cash.
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 171 
 
 He felt sure the playwright would checkmate any pro- 
 ceedings Michael Pepperday's officious friends might 
 start. Of course, it was rough on Mike, but what hap- 
 pened to that sap-headed fool, as Foster considered the 
 imprisoned youth, did not worry him at all. Any man 
 who would let Milly pull the wool over his eyes deserved 
 all he got. Metaphorically speaking, the actor had 
 hugged himself into a state of warmth and contentment. 
 He had completely forgiven Brewer for overlooking his 
 appeals for personal interviews of late and with smiling 
 satisfaction looked forward to a brilliant future. 
 
 As he guided his smart runabout to the curb in front 
 of the Candler Building, his mind's eye held a picture of 
 wealth and fame with none of the grind and poverty that 
 generally impeded the rise of the artist. 
 
 He was overcome with self-importance and gratified 
 pride when he tripped into Brewer's office. 
 
 "I'm delighted to see you again, Martin," he exclaimed 
 with an outflung hand. "You can't imagine how I've 
 missed our chummy talks. But I realize that you were 
 too busy to let me come oftener." 
 
 "Sit down," came from the scarcely perceptible slit that 
 was Brewer's mouth. "What do you know about the 
 Pepperday matter, Bill?" 
 
 The actor shifted uncomfortably to a chair. 
 
 "Well, there's a movement afoot for a new trial, so I 
 thought I ought to let you know as soon as I found it out 
 myself," he replied. 
 
 "Where'd you get that bit of information?" 
 
 "Oh, from somebody who knows." 
 
 "What do you mean by somebody? Now, look here, 
 Bill, when you do business with me, it's got to be open 
 and aboveboard. I wouldn't talk in riddles with the devil 
 himself. Out with the whole affair or nothing, and don't 
 come here with mere gossip."
 
 172 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 "Fancy Cavendish told me," admitted Foster after 
 a spell. 
 
 "What? Are you fool enough to bring her stories 
 here?" 
 
 Incredulity grew in Foster's narrow breast. Brewer 
 acted as if he were not in the least intimidated. If that 
 were so, why had he sent him all that money? He re- 
 called his other interviews. Certainly he had been led 
 to believe that by shutting his tongue between his teeth, 
 he was doing him a favor. He was, too ; he knew he was ! 
 Good Lord, it was a favor to keep his crippled son out of 
 the muss! This thought made him pour forth a running 
 fire: 
 
 "Now, you listen to what I'm going to say, Mr. Brewer! 
 You needn't put on airs with me! I'm here to help you, 
 but I can tip over your apple cart if I take the notion. 
 So just remember that!" Very pale, he arose to his feet. 
 "When you get ready to treat me like a friend, I'll come 
 back and talk to you. Till you can hold your temper, I 
 won't show up, but I might as well tell you some of the 
 things I haven't put in my letters. I want more money, 
 of course, certainly! I I also want to play Michael 
 Pepperday's part of 'David' in 'The Streams Make 
 Glad!'" 
 
 As if a bee had stung him, Brewer sprang from his 
 chair. Then he leaned against the table and laughed until 
 the tears ran down his checks. 
 
 "Gosh how funny," he stuttered when he was able 
 to articulate. "Thanks for that good laugh, Bill!" 
 
 "You'll laugh out of the other side of your mouth," 
 gritted Foster, forgetting himself in righteous wrath. "I'm 
 done fooling with you. In every one of my notes I've 
 begged you to see me, but I didn't thrust myself upon you 
 as I might have done. I came this time, willing to meet 
 you more than halfway. Aren't you ashamed of your-
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 173 
 
 self, now, Mr. Martin Brewer? I repeat what I said. 
 I want to play that part of 'David' with Paddy Pepper- 
 day as 'Truth' and Barney in his role: . . . I'm in love 
 with Patricia!" 
 
 "What?" cried Brewer. "What in thunder did you 
 say?" 
 
 He stood perfectly still as Foster repeated, word for 
 word, what he had said with a few additions. 
 
 "That puts a new complexion on the matter," com- 
 mented Martin gravely. "I say, Bill, come along into 
 my directors' room, and we'll swap a few confidences." 
 
 His chest swelling with a sudden breath of relief, Foster 
 jumped at the suggestion. 
 
 "Fine!" he said. "I'm glad you've come to see it my 
 way after all." 
 
 As Foster went first across the threshold of Martin 
 Brewer's directors' room, he took a quick glance about. 
 A large table, around which were some ten or twelve 
 chairs, occupied the spacious center. A baby grand 
 piano, ready for use, was in the corner. In that instant 
 he saw himself standing before it, practicing the powerful 
 role of "David" in "The Streams Make Glad! " 
 
 Brewer's invitation to take a chair and make himself 
 "comfy" gave him further assurance. There was nothing 
 like carrying a project through high-handedly, especially 
 with a haughty duck like the man before him. He could 
 now specify his claims, and Martin would jump to grant 
 them. 
 
 Never before had William been imbued with such over- 
 powering self-esteem. Humph! He knew the calibre of 
 Martin Brewer as if he had mixed up God's clay and made 
 him. Big as he was, yes, rich as he was, Brewer was a 
 "fraidy cat!" 
 
 "Barney Pepperday is back at Cavendish's," he an- 
 nounced, taking a glimpse at his green silk hose to make
 
 i 7 4 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 certain there were no wrinkles in them. "Did you know 
 that?" 
 
 "No!" answered Brewer, standing, his hands thrust 
 into his pockets. 
 
 It placed a fellow at a disadvantage to have a man 
 tower over him like that, and Billy wished he would sit 
 down. 
 
 "Yes, he came in night before last," he explained. 
 "Through some means he's got hold of a big sum of 
 money. At first I couldn't see why in hell he wanted to 
 come to a place like Cavendish's, especially after all that's 
 happened. Of course, I've got my own reasons for stay- 
 ing there, but Barney's different. I was sure he had 
 something up his sleeve and he has! He's diggin' for 
 new evidence! 
 
 "Fancy came to my room last night, and she told me 
 that there'd been a man in Pepperday's room with him 
 for over an hour. I bribed her to go back and keep an 
 eye and ear out, and she did. She says the man was a 
 lawyer. She heard Barney offer him a thousand dollars. 
 I tried to quiz Barn myself, but he's some cagey guy, be- 
 lieve me. Beside that, Alexander Clark says that Pat 
 O'Kelleron wrote his mother that he feared he'd made a 
 mistake in rushing Mike's trial so fast. When he comes 
 home, he's going to look into it. Martin, I say it's gettin' 
 pretty hot for Benny. But I guess, as long as only you 
 and I know the kid was in the house, you needn't worry. 
 
 "All I ask you to do is give to me outright The 
 Streams Make Glad,' and " 
 
 "Outright!" interjected Martin. "Why, it's worth a 
 mint, and I've already given you more money than you 
 ever saw before." 
 
 "I know it, but isn't Benny's liberty, perhaps his life, 
 worth a fortune. I counted it that way and thought, 
 maybe, you would, too.
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 175 
 
 "I've always been ambitious," he stumbled on, 
 "and I got to thinking what a success the Pepperday kids 
 made in 'The Streams' and what a good actor I am my- 
 self! Friends of mine say I can sing prettier than 
 Michael Pepperday " 
 
 As Brewer winced, he paused, but, Billy's mode of 
 fighting being to hit a man when he was down, he pro- 
 ceeded, "I can knock the spots off Mike's acting any day, 
 and I didn't know how much I cared for Patricia until 
 after she went west. You have a big pull with her, so I 
 figured out that if you recalled her " 
 
 "I gather from what you say, Foster," interposed 
 Brewer quite calmly, "that you want to marry Miss Pep- 
 perday." 
 
 "Want to marry her?" echoed Billy, rolling up his eyes. 
 "Well, I can say 'Yes! ' to that with all my might. More'n 
 that I intend to marry her! Say, she's the kind of a girl 
 that looks clean through a fella and doesn't see him at all. 
 But, after we're married, I'll take that high-cockalorum 
 air out of 'er, you can bet your last dollar on that. 
 
 "Mart, you've had enough experience with women to 
 know that a firm hand, and even a gadding once in a while, 
 makes 'em understand the superiority of men. I know a 
 vaudeville guy who drubs his wife every Sunday, whether 
 she needs it or not. It keeps her straight all week. For a 
 while I'll try that on Paddy Pepperday, just to show her 
 who's boss. She'll eat out of my hands before I'm done 
 with 'er. But, of course, I couldn't get her without you. 
 She's the one big thing I want thrown in for for my 
 keepin' quiet about Benny." 
 
 To prevent himself from springing at the speaker, 
 Brewer spread his feet wide apart. He was holding him- 
 self in by main force. He did not wish to commit an out- 
 right murder, and, if he struck Foster now, he would 
 surely kill him.
 
 176 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 His own machinations with this scum of the stage had 
 made possible this incomparable harangue. His mind 
 swept to Montana, carried on a whirlwind of rage and 
 shame. But the picture of a pretty child, the girl who 
 had portrayed his "Truth" with the tenderness and 
 verity of an angel, softened the tense muscles in his throat. 
 The word "Patricia" fell upon his ears, and he stirred. 
 
 "Isn't that so?" queried the actor. 
 
 "I didn't hear what you said, Bill," rejoined Brewer, 
 "and you needn't trouble to repeat it. I was just wonder- 
 ing if I hadn't better lock the door. Yes, I think so." 
 
 He walked forward and turned the key. 
 
 "I did that, William, so that Scott couldn't run in if he 
 happened to want me," he observed in explanation. "We 
 can't be bothered by trifles for a while."
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 177 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 WITH furtive alertness William Foster watched the 
 manager as he turned and walked to the table, where he 
 halted for no apparent reason. Foster wished he would 
 make haste and draw up the contract. Until that was 
 signed and sealed, he would be in more or less of a fret. 
 
 At the thought that he had cornered so powerful a 
 man, Billy's small soul grew gleeful. But why did Brewer 
 stand there like a stone image, his great head thrown 
 back and his face as white as tallow? There was an 
 expression, too, in his blue eyes, centered on space, that 
 twinged the watcher with unrest. 
 
 During those few retrospective moments, Martin had 
 traveled back to Benny's babyhood. There he had 
 turned sharply and retraced his steps through the slow 
 and weary years since the lad had become his fondest 
 care. 
 
 Then, as a hacking cough came from the actor, he 
 walked the length of the room and back again. Of a 
 sudden his eye caught sight of the model of the stage 
 set of "The Streams Make Glad," reposing on a shelf. 
 Seemingly unconscious of his companion's impatience, he 
 approached it softly, reverently, though with an inward 
 agony, like that of a priest before his sacrificial altar. 
 
 Simultaneously William Foster's harpy-like demands 
 faded from his mind; Forty-second Street took itself 
 off; all its confusion and hubbub died out of his ears, 
 for Martin Brewer had begun his wrestle with God. 
 There, before the miniature Judean mountain with its 
 Punch and. Judy figures and its scraps of wool for sheep, 
 the scales of doubt fell from his shrunken manhood.
 
 1 78 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 His "old man of the sea" slowly resumed his innocuous 
 form. 
 
 Then, through the quietude of Martin's material self, 
 spiritual activity thundered its gospel of God-given 
 pledges. For the first time since two weeks after Labor 
 Day the everlasting truth was borne in upon him. Oh, 
 eternal pledges of omniscent Love! Hope stirred in its 
 long, leaden sleep and was suddenly erect in radiant splen- 
 dor. He grasped the actuality of personal responsibility 
 and individual independence expressed in the law, "work 
 out your own salvation for it is God that worketh with 
 you " 
 
 Then Benny's future slipped from his bleeding heart. 
 His great shoulders lifted, and he sighed. He was free! 
 Unfettered! Emancipated! Hallowed became the spot 
 where he stood; enshrined the cardboard stage out of 
 which his faith in abiding peace had been given back to 
 him. 
 
 A sound startled him from his reverie. What was it? 
 Ah, William Foster was humming audibly, "There is a 
 River, the Streams whereof shall make Glad the City of 
 God." 
 
 "Know what that is, Bill?" he asked with a backward 
 thrust of his thumb at the model. 
 
 Flushing a rosy red, William slapped his brow with 
 widespread fingers. 
 
 "Betcha," he grinned. "Great idea! That is The 
 Streams.' But what's the thing in the corner, a shep- 
 herd's crook, eh?" 
 
 "Yes! Sort of a one," ruminated Martin, picking up 
 a rattan stick. "I bought it merely for the shape, to 
 have one enlarged from it for Mike. Why, this," and he 
 bent it double, "isn't big enough even for you." 
 
 With that he threw the crook on the table. Leisurely 
 he advanced until he was within a few feet of his com-
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 179 
 
 panion, the expression on his face indicating that he was 
 weighing a matter of extreme importance. Then a frosty 
 smile expanded his lips, revealing two sets of unbroken, 
 white teeth. 
 
 "Bill," he said impressively, "you say you came to 
 do me a favor. Well, now I'm going to do you one." 
 
 "You'll never be sorry if you help me," Foster con- 
 curred, bobbing up with a low bow. 
 
 "I guess that's right," concluded Brewer thoughtfully. 
 "When I once make my mind to do a thing, I'm rarely 
 sorry. Just crawl up on that table, Willy!" 
 
 "What for, for God's sake?" gasped Foster, flinching; 
 "and look here, I don't want you to call me 'Willy,' see?" 
 
 "All right, all right, just as you like," returned Brewer, 
 flourishing a long arm. "It's immaterial what your name 
 is when you're acting a part. I'm going to give you the 
 leading role in a dance of the fairies. Hop up, Lizzie 
 dear, hop up!" 
 
 "But I'm through with dancing," objected Foster, hec- 
 tic in color. "I I told you that, and and you can 
 quit calling me names, too." 
 
 "Hop up!" interrupted Brewer fiercely. "Up on that 
 table, and face down, toadling!" 
 
 The space between them he covered with one step, a 
 terrific, threatening figure. 
 
 Shrinking back, Foster stammered: 
 
 "Get away from me you you ! I'm I'm 
 afraid! What's the matter, Brewer? What's the matter 
 with you?" 
 
 Again that frozen smile spread Martin's lips to their 
 fullest extent. 
 
 "Quit lookin' at me that way," shivered Foster. "I tell 
 you I'm afraid of you! I say, what do you mean by 
 tellin' me to hop up on that table? I I won't! Don't 
 you dare touch me! If you do, I'll holler."
 
 i8o THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 At that moment Martin was almost feline. He knew 
 he was scaring the fellow into chattering imbecility; but 
 now he had started, he could not stop. One of his hands 
 went out as though he were feeling for an invisible ob- 
 ject. Then he withdrew it, only to shove it forth again, 
 this time close to the actor's face. 
 
 Fingers, like talons, gripping Foster's collar, circum- 
 vented his move to dive under Martin's uplifted arm. 
 Poor little mite of a man, struggling in the iron grip of 
 a Cyclops! Then Brewer compounded insult and injury 
 by elevating the song bird by the scruff of his neck com- 
 pletely off his feet and suspending him there as a cat 
 would a rat. 
 
 "Willy," he boomed into the other's white, working 
 face, "you're an abomination unto the earth. Now, I'm 
 going to wallop the fear of God into you if I don't do 
 another blessed thing on His footstool. If you were a 
 man, I'd knock you down and do a few other things to 
 you that go with a fine fight, but " 
 
 On the brusque, explanatory "But" he stopped, and 
 with one jerk whirled the dizzy actor aloft and landed 
 him, spine up, on the table. Then, oh, kindly God in a 
 kindly heaven, help! blubbered from Foster's racked soul. 
 What was. that? An object as cold as an icicle was trav- 
 eling over the end of his nose. 
 
 "Smell that!" shot from Brewer. "It's a nice little 
 shepherd's crook, made purposely to switch a naughty bad 
 boy with, Willy. The Bible says, 'Spare the rod and 
 spoil the child!' Now kick, little man, kick." 
 
 As the limber stick struck him across his back, "kick" 
 was not the word to express the spraddles of William 
 Foster. He squealed, not only with physical pain, but 
 because his dignity his high pride was hurt beyond 
 description. He could not endure the outrage another 
 second. But the muscles he had displayed at times with
 
 boasting were as soft as butter when he endeavored to 
 wriggle from under the hand that held him down. 
 
 "Ah, you're magnificent, sweet boy!" exclaimed 
 Brewer. "You're making the hit of your life! You've 
 never done half so well before the footlights." 
 
 Another stinging blow from the flexible stick brought 
 forth a series of yaps from Foster. 
 
 "Ah, does it hurt as bad as all that, darlin'," mocked 
 Martin. "What a shame! It hurts me a thousand times 
 worse than it does you, Willy child ! " 
 
 "I'll have you arrested," shrilled Foster. "I'll have 
 you jailed, you damned big brute. Let me go, I tell 
 you." 
 
 Never had his falsetto tones taken their entire scope 
 so thoroughly since he had discovered he possessed a voice. 
 He blasphemed on the low notes, he screamed in the 
 middle range, and he begged in childish treble. 
 
 Of a sudden Brewer paused with suspended arm. He 
 scowled down at Foster who was sobbing limply. 
 
 "Lemme go, lemme go, sir," he implored, his hands 
 in an attitude of prayer. "Oh, Mr. Brewer, how could 
 you do such a thing, when I'm so anxious to save your 
 son so anxious to play The Streams Make Glad.' " 
 
 "Ha, ha, the little gnat hasn't learned his lesson yet, 
 I see," cried Brewer. "I hoped he had! But a job like 
 this, if it's worth doing at all, is worth doing well." 
 
 "One, two, three, four, five," he counted as the weapon 
 descended. "How do you like what you said you'd give 
 Paddy Pepperday, my weasel? Every Sunday, whether 
 she needed it or not, to keep her straight through the 
 week eh? One, two, three, for your even daring to 
 mention The Streams Make Glad!' Immortal Muse! 
 The pup would crucify the 'City of God ! ' Here's a couple 
 of dandy whacks to ease thy weeping heart, oh, guardian 
 angel of vocal harmony!"
 
 1 82 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 He paused and grinned into Foster's tear-wet face. 
 
 "Oh, tweedle dee and tweedle dum, some spanking for 
 a bad, bad son," he chanted in rhyme. "Now, two more 
 for good measure! Good measure pressed down and 
 running over! There! The dance is finished!" 
 
 Then Foster was so violently wrenched from the table 
 and flung into a chair that he saw stars. 
 
 "Now, I'll hear what you're going to do, Bill," said 
 Martin coolly, his temper gone. 
 
 Tears were pouring down Billy's cheeks. 
 
 "I want to hear what you're going to do first," he 
 sniveled in muffled tones. "What I do depends on what 
 you do." 
 
 Again Brewer lost his equanimity and became a menac- 
 ing bulk of blazing flesh. 
 
 "The first thing I'm going to do is to kick you out of 
 my office," he asserted, "and I'll add that Michael Pepper- 
 day shall have a new trial! I'll get in touch with 
 O'Kelleron and help him open the case. Put that in 
 your pipe and smoke it. Now, you get out of here, you 
 tango lizard, and don't come around me again. If you 
 do, I won't bother to slap you. I'll I'll sling you out 
 of the window, body, bones and breeches, by God ! " 
 
 He unlocked the door but did not open it. 
 
 "Now, Willy, I want to know something else." He 
 spoke more civilly. "When're you going down to the 
 District Attorney?" 
 
 No reply came from the actor, but hate flamed into 
 and darkened his eyes. 
 
 "Ah, I see you leave here for there," divined Brewer 
 swiftly. "Well, I'll go along, too, and I'll take down 
 with us a bunch of your blackmailing letters. One of 
 'em will put you behind the bars for several years, and I'll 
 see you get yours." 
 
 Then Foster tasted the bitterness of defeat. He
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 183 
 
 had lost, playing his own game. He was done for before 
 he had begun his world-famed career! He was on his 
 knees to the man he had been positive he held under his 
 thumb. 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Brewer," he wailed, "I wouldn't treat you 
 that way. I I I wouldn't go to the District Attorney's 
 office for a hundred million dollars." 
 
 "Vamoose," growled Brewer, "and do anything you 
 damn well like!" 
 
 Foster fled, and, as he crawled painfully into his car, he 
 had the full realization that life was disrupted of every- 
 thing worth while.
 
 1 84 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 ONE fixed idea raced around in Fancy Cavendish's 
 mind: George was going to die before night. Her thin 
 arms trembled so she could scarcely don her hat and coat. 
 Wrapped in an old woolen cape, the parrot was squatted 
 on a chair. His mistress was going to take him out of 
 doors, and it was rainy and cold ; so she had left no part 
 of his body exposed save his glistening eyes and beak. 
 When she had arrayed herself against the weather, she 
 slipped the bird under her arm and climbed the base- 
 ment steps to the street. 
 
 Once some one had told her that her father had died, 
 and she had never seen him again. To-night she would 
 not have George. She would be alone in the small, dark 
 chamber where, ever since she could remember, he had 
 kept her company. She was dumb with grief as the 
 realization pressed upon on her that the destruction of her 
 beloved was at hand. She had but a short time to teach 
 him all he must know before he went away to heaven. 
 
 Her face was smeared with tears when she slipped into 
 a cold, damp court on Forty-seventh Street and squeezed 
 herself in between two empty ash cans. Then, after 
 caressing the parrot, she put him in her lap. He opened 
 one eye and peered up at her. 
 
 "Hello, Fan," he singsonged. 
 
 "Hello, George," she droned, wiping her face on her 
 sleeve. 
 
 "Nice day," said George. 
 
 "Nice day," she repeated. 
 
 Then the bird fell asleep, and Fancy made an effort 
 to straighten out in her mind just what had happened.
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 185 
 
 Now, who was it that had said George had to die? She 
 could not remember, and the harder she struggled to 
 piece the broken threads, the more disordered became 
 her brain. Rocking back and forth, she wept and moaned. 
 
 At length she bent foward and with trembling lips 
 touched the ragged feathers that topknotted the parrot's 
 pate. 
 
 "George," she breathed. 
 
 "Is breakfast ready, Fan?" asked the bird. 
 
 This remark was the cause of a low lament from Fancy. 
 He would not eat any breakfast to-morrow. She would 
 never have to steal from under her mother's nose the tid- 
 bits for which he famished, and which she fed him in the 
 seclusion of her own room. 
 
 "Kiss me, George," she mumbled, sobbing. 
 
 Obediently he pecked at her under lip. 
 
 "Now, listen to Fan, dear," she whimpered. "I'd like 
 to help you if I could, but I can't. Before dark you'll 
 be flyin' away up in the sky." Her voice cracked and 
 ceased. After a while, "But God'll make it easy for my 
 little man," she murmured. "I've been askin' Him all the 
 way over. You got a soul, George, bigger'n most folks, 
 and the minute your neck's twisted, Jesus'll grab you right 
 up to heaven! I wish I could go with you, darlin'." 
 
 "Aw, Fan," muttered the parrot, disturbed at her tears. 
 
 "Ma don't like us much," she trailed on. "Nobody 
 likes us awful well but Paddy Pepperday, and she ain't 
 here. Oh, how I wish she was! How I wish she was, 
 George!" 
 
 "George's a damn pretty bird," soliloquized the parrot. 
 
 She squeezed him against her tremulous bosom. 
 
 "You're more'n pretty," she sighed. "Why, my golly, 
 there's another parrot on the block, but he can't hold a 
 candle to you. Be a good boy, and say your prayers once 
 for your little mama."
 
 1 86 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 "Lay me down to sleep," squeaked George, and he com- 
 posed himself for another nap. 
 
 Among the tasks for Fancy to learn, Patricia Pepper- 
 day had listed the childish prayer, "Now I lay me down 
 to sleep," and that much of the petition George knew by 
 heart from his small owner's diligent quoting. 
 
 "Say it again, 'Now I lay me down to sleep,' honey," 
 she quivered. "I wish you'd learn the part about your 
 soul, too. Sometimes you're so rotten mean that you 
 won't do a thing I ask you. Miss Paddy says Jesus loves 
 little birdies' souls, George." 
 
 Then the child-woman, warped in all natural instincts 
 but that of mother love which had spent its warmth for 
 years on the bird, snatched him to her breast in passionate 
 entreaty. 
 
 "Oh, God, let Fan keep George," she begged tensely. 
 "Anyway, let me keep 'im till to-morrow. George, if you 
 don't say, 'I pray the Lord my soul to keep,' I'll paste 
 you a biff on the jaw. Say it! Say it! The cat ain't 
 got your tongue, has he? Open your mouth, and I'll see." 
 
 As if he understood perfectly the order given him, 
 George opened his beak. 
 
 "Gold pencil for Fatty," he squawked, struggling to 
 release himself from her light embrace. 
 
 A long shiver ran the length of Fancy's body. The 
 parrot's jabbering about Michael Pepperday's pencil 
 meant death for him. It never once occurred to her that 
 it had taken her days to teach him those words. 
 
 Suddenly she tucked him under her arm, scrambled up 
 and scuttled out of the court. No matter if the wind 
 were cold, she did not intend to go home just now. George 
 was warm, and that was enough. 
 
 She maundered along Forty-seventh Street with no 
 definite thought of where she would spend the rest of 
 the day.
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 187 
 
 Turning south on Fifth Avenue, she walked slowly 
 along, glancing now and then at the shop windows. She 
 harbored no envy for any one of the brilliant gewgaws 
 displayed there. Patricia Pepperday supplied her with 
 everything she needed. 
 
 A voice, sounding her name, set her heart to beating. 
 In dread, she turned completely around. 
 
 An automobile had drawn close to the curb, and she 
 heard her name again pronounced distinctly as she stared 
 at the young man who was leaning out of the car door. 
 
 "Hello, Fancy!" called Benny Brewer, smiling at her. 
 "Come on, and have a ride." 
 
 Not recognizing him at first, she hesitated. Then, re- 
 lieved, she placed the pale, thin face as belonging to the 
 boy who had come a few times to see the Pepperdays, 
 and who once had given her five dollars. Undecided, 
 however, she stood her ground but sent him a wan smile. 
 
 "Come on," he insisted, beckoning with his finger. 
 "It's good and warm in here." 
 
 Never had she ridden in an automobile, and she was 
 cold, too, so when he repeated the invitation, she sidled 
 across the flags and slid into the tonneau beside him. 
 x "Not a very nice day for a walk, Fancy," he remarked. 
 "But I thought, perhaps, you'd like a ride." 
 
 "So I would, and George would like it, too, sir," she 
 answered, her face flaming in excitement. 
 
 She unpinned the cape, unwrapped the bird, and he 
 clawed his way up her sleeve to her shoulder. 
 
 "Pretty Poll, pretty Poll," he harped, as the car shot 
 up Fifth Avenue. "Gold pencil! Lay me down to 
 sleep, ma!" 
 
 Lifting her hand, Fancy placed it over his face. 
 
 "George's a bad boy to-day," she excused, "but it don't 
 do no good to swat 'im. I'd beat 'im black and blue if 
 it did."
 
 188 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 "What did he mean when he said that?" asked Benny 
 curiously. "I never heard a parrot talk so plainly before. 
 I say, Fancy, what did he mean?" 
 
 "Nothing much, just a lot of rot," she apologized. "I 
 guess he was sayin' his prayers for one thing. Where 
 we going to, mister?" 
 
 "Oh, we'll take a little drive through the Park, and 
 then we'll go up to my house. I'll play on my organ for 
 you. Do you like music?" 
 
 She turned her head and looked at him. 
 
 "Lordy, I should think I did, and George loves it 
 better'n most anything but cake. He gets all pin- 
 feathery when we play the phonygraph. Ma says it gives 
 'im the pip, like it does her." 
 
 Then they were silent, except for the parrot's jargon, 
 as the car took its way along the wet, winding roads of 
 Central Park. 
 
 Benny's idea in giving Fancy Cavendish an outing 
 was not all philanthropic. He wanted to talk about 
 Patricia Pepperday. Several times he asked her questions 
 to keep up the conversation, but she remained despond- 
 ently huddled in the corner, watching the trees fly past. 
 
 Later, when she sat in Benny's studio, listening to his 
 music, she forgot that death stalked on Forty-eighth 
 Street, and that there was a lonely to-morrow awaiting 
 her. The soothing harmony had lifted her vague senses 
 into a blissful tranquillity. The bird, too, was very quiet. 
 
 "I bet you enjoyed that," Benny said, smiling. 
 
 "It was more'n grand," she returned emphatically. 
 "Look at George! Every one of his feathers are standin' 
 on end. He liked it like I did." 
 
 "What makes him act so fierce?" queried Benny. 
 
 The rapture, stamped in Fancy's pale countenance, 
 faded away, leaving her jaded in expression. Furtively 
 she glanced around the room and up at the galleries.
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 189 
 
 "I guess he's mad because I told him he's goin' to get 
 killed," she whispered, again eyeing Benny. "His soul 
 is goin' smack to Jesus before long. Somebody is goin' 
 to wring his neck." 
 
 "Why?" questioned Benny disbelievingly. "Who's 
 going to do it?" 
 
 "I can't tell you anything about that," she stated, 
 touching her lips with her fingers. "But I wish George 
 didn't have to go to heaven just yet!" She uttered 
 weak little sobs, her head sinking into the crook of her 
 elbow. "Oh, I don't know how I'll live without him," 
 she cried out to the amazed Benny. 
 
 "Goodness me land, don't do that!" he exclaimed. 
 "I say, Fancy, you make me feel badly! How would 
 you like some cake and tea? I'll send down for any- 
 thing you like." 
 
 She raised her face, streaked and wet, and then she 
 contemplated him for a while as though she would assure 
 herself that he had spoken the truth. 
 
 "George loves cake, sir," she announced, a smile flit- 
 ting across her lips, "and, mebbe, if you give 'im some 
 now, it'll be the last he'll get. Ma's as stingy as the 
 devil when it comes to sweeties." She bent forward. 
 "You remember that five dollars you gave me one night?" 
 
 Ah, did he remember? He merely nodded. 
 
 "I spent every cent on George," she declared with a 
 wise wag of her head. "Ma never knew I had it." 
 
 "Then I'll have some cake sent up," he promised, 
 and he went to a speaking tube into which he spoke words 
 which were unintelligible to the thrilled Fancy. 
 
 "Come on, and tell me what's going to happen to 
 your parrot," he coaxed, once more seating himself. "I 
 won't tell anybody. I swear I won't." 
 
 "Somebody hates 'im awful!" she admitted, embar- 
 rassed. "I hadn't oughta said a word about it, but but,
 
 1 9 o THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 mebbe, he won't be alive five minutes after I get 'im home 
 to ma's, sir." 
 
 "Then I'd be switched if I'd take him back there!" 
 came in ejaculation. "Gee, some mystery about that 
 bird! Eh Here's the tea. 
 
 "By Jove," he exclaimed, laughing up at the liveried 
 butler who had advanced with the tray, "I forgot to say 
 'jam/ but you brought it, didn't you, Todkins? And 
 sandwiches! Yes, I'll call down if there isn't enough, 
 Toddie!" 
 
 The servant stared at the young stranger, then at the 
 parrot, murmured a few words and went out. 
 
 "You sit here," invited Benny hospitably, "and help 
 yourself to whatever you want." 
 
 "I'd like George to have my share, mister," she gulped, 
 dropping into the chair. "If there's anything he loves, 
 it's cake soaked in sugared tea, and he'll never get another 
 chance like this." 
 
 "There's enough for us all," Benny responded, sitting 
 down, "and, if there isn't, we'll shout for more, like a 
 house afire. But look here! If you're sure about that 
 killing stuff, why don't you leave the bird with me? You 
 could see him whenever you liked; I wouldn't mind if 
 you came every day. And you needn't tell any one 
 where you left him. That would be better than having 
 him die, wouldn't it? Begin and eat now, while I pour 
 the tea." 
 
 Thoughtfully Fancy helped herself to a sandwich, broke 
 it in two and offered the parrot the larger portion. 
 
 "George hates being away from me," she explained 
 presently, "and, when he's ugly, he'll nip you till the blood 
 runs. He picked three huncks off'n a man's hands just 
 to-day. And he bit ma's thumb almost off when she tried 
 to box his ears." 
 
 Chirruping, Benny leaned across the table and extended
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 191 
 
 his forefinger. The parrot cocked his head on one side 
 and blinked. Then in stately dignity he lifted his wings 
 and jumped to the lad's shoulder. 
 
 "Well, for the love of Mike," gasped Fancy, "wouldn't 
 that rattle your grandmother's slats? He never did 
 that before; he hates strangers." 
 
 "But he likes me; that's why he came without any 
 fuss," laughed Benny. "All kinds of animals take to me 
 straight off. Here, Sir George, get down here and eat a 
 bit of chocolate. Well, will you look at him pick up 
 that spoon and see him dig into the jam! " 
 
 With pride Fancy gazed lovingly upon her adored pet, 
 then back to Benny. 
 
 "That's nothing," she bragged. "He can eat a dinner 
 all the way from soup to nuts. Ma swears he's got a 
 tapeworm or something worse. I guess he knows you're 
 an awful nice man. Paddy Pepperday said you were as 
 good as gold." 
 
 "Did she honest?" glowed Benny. "Tell me every- 
 thing she said. I'll give you five dollars if you will! " 
 
 Along toward dark, warmed in body and spirit, Fancy 
 Cavendish took her departure from the Brewer home, 
 leaving the parrot contentedly asleep in Benny's studio. 
 Little did she realize that her earnest, humble petition, 
 "God, let me keep Mm," sent up while she crouched be- 
 tween the ash cans, had won for her darling the protective 
 care of omnipresent Love.
 
 i 9 2 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII 
 
 "Ix's another nice day, isn't it, Stephen?" Patricia 
 observed some three weeks later, as she emerged from her 
 room at breakfast time. Her voice was evenly toned, 
 and Stephen glanced up suddenly with the passionate hope 
 that she would look at him. 
 
 Interminable days of blizzard and terrific wind, howling 
 around the "Eagle's Nest," and ten days of brilliant sun- 
 shine had almost sent him beyond the bounds of reason. 
 The passing of each twenty-four hours had left him more 
 desperate and nerve-racked than the preceding ones. Not 
 to his knowledge had his wife deigned to glance his way 
 in all that time, nor had he succeeded in wheedling her 
 into a lengthy conversation. Yet, she was infinitely sweet 
 and tantalizingly relaxed whenever he spoke upon other 
 than personal topics. 
 
 One minute he would declare to himself that he had 
 married a crazy woman; another sixty seconds animated 
 him with the belief that she had been stricken with a 
 lingering illness, the like of which had never came under 
 his eye. Certainly his experiment in bringing her to the 
 "Eagle's Nest" was turning out disastrously. Daily she 
 was losing flesh and color. 
 
 There were, though, moments during which she seemed 
 to be alive to the things passing around her. For in- 
 stance, the morning post usually delivered her various 
 pieces of mail, and the anxious husband noted that she 
 read the lengthy epistles several times, after which they 
 immediately found their way into the leaping flames, only 
 to be carried up the chimney in charred, broken frag- 
 ments.
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 193 
 
 Not once had she spoken of their contents, nor had 
 she condescended to acquaint him with the names of her 
 correspondents. 
 
 He was watching her keenly now as she walked to the 
 table. 
 
 "Yes," he answered, "it is a nice day, and the postman 
 says the road to Butte is in good shape." 
 
 "Ah, I have just one letter," she said, picking up a 
 thick envelope. 
 
 When he saw her thin face go pale, a stab of jealousy 
 went through him like a knife. He was more than in- 
 terested in that letter. He had inspected it on putting 
 it beside her plate. It was postmarked "Ossining, N. Y." 
 and was addressed to "Patricia Rushmore, Butte, Mon- 
 tana," in a large, bold handwriting. 
 
 Twice before since their marriage he had witnessed the 
 same scene over the same kind of a letter, her sudden 
 rigidity, her deathly pallor and the manner in which 
 she snatched it up. Unlike her other mail, she had 
 not read these letters until she was alone. What had the 
 writer to do with her present condition? Although he 
 had desired to know its contents, a desire which was more 
 insistent this morning than either time before, Stephen had 
 not been tempted to open it. 
 
 "Did you sleep well?" she asked sweetly, taking her 
 seat in front of the coffee urn and slipping the letter, 
 address down, beside her plate. 
 
 "No, I can't say I did," he rejoined, an impatient note 
 in his voice. 
 
 "I'm sorry," she murmured. That was all! 
 
 She poured his coffee, sugared and creamed it with care. 
 When Stephen took it from her, he touched the small 
 hand under the saucer. 
 
 A quick rage took root in his heart when she drew her 
 arm back as if she had inadvertently come in contact with
 
 194 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 a snake. He wondered darkly if she would shrink in 
 such an evident fashion from the man at Ossining. He 
 felt like flinging the question at her but refrained. His 
 tongue was stiff, his mouth dry, in spite of the cup of hot 
 coffee he had swallowed without taking breath. 
 
 As usual, when Patricia had finished her breakfast, she 
 picked up her mail and arose languidly. 
 
 "Stay here a few minutes, Patricia," he said. "I want 
 to talk to you." 
 
 With the letter in her hand, she dropped obediently into 
 an armchair and waited for him to proceed. 
 
 It was now firmly rooted in Stephen's consciousness 
 that another man was at the bottom of their trouble. She 
 was dying slowly by inches. 
 
 "Child," he exclaimed swiftly, "in spite of your pro- 
 testations against it, I'm going to send for a doctor. You 
 won't eat, and I don't believe you sleep enough. It's no 
 wonder you're getting thin." 
 
 "But I'm not at all sick, Stephen," she objected. 
 "I really feel rested this morning. I slept better last 
 night than I have before since I've been here." 
 
 "I wish I could say the same," he replied bitterly. 
 "Patricia, we can't go on all winter like this. It's getting 
 on our nerves." 
 
 "Yes, I'm sure it is, but, perhaps, after a while, we'll 
 feel better," was all she offered. 
 
 "I don't know about that. To my knowledge you 
 haven't given me a look of any kind since we've been 
 here," he countered, thankful that she had not taken 
 flight. "Do you dislike me so much as all that, dear 
 Patricia?" 
 
 "No ! You've made a mistake ! I have looked at you 
 often," she said. "Perhaps, you didn't see me, but I have 
 just the same." 
 
 "Turn around here now," he said with vehemence.
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 195 
 
 To hear Stephen's dear voice and see the Pater's blue 
 lips move, ah, that was a chance she dared not risk. 
 
 "I don't want to," she shivered. "My head would ache 
 if I did." 
 
 Difficult, indeed, it would have been to measure the 
 resentment that welled up in Claypoole. It temporarily 
 eclipsed his love and obscured his judgment. Before he 
 could speak, Patricia choked: 
 
 "May I please go to my room, Stephen? I'd rather 
 be by myself if you don't mind." 
 
 "Not yet," he protested. "I haven't finished what 
 I wanted to say." 
 
 "I can't see that there is anything for either of us to 
 say," she endeavored to answer quietly. "Of course, I'll 
 listen to whatever you have in mind. I'd feel better, 
 though, if if I could return you that money that five 
 thousand dollars." 
 
 His resolution not to be other than kindly went to pieces 
 under her assertion. His pulses were leaping hotly with 
 jealous suspicion, and she had lacerated his feelings until 
 he had lost his sense of proportion. 
 
 "Patricia, don't ever dare to mention that wretched 
 affair to me again," he charged stormily. "If you persist 
 in it, I don't know what I'll do to you. For some reason or 
 other, you seem determined to offend me this morning." 
 
 Never had he spoken thus to her before. His tones 
 were rough, and she shriveled into a small heap as the 
 thought flashed through her mind that Patrick O'Kelleron 
 was revealing himself. She struggled to her feet, the 
 letter hanging loosely from her fingers. 
 
 "Why, no, no! I'm not!" she expostulated, "and, of 
 course, I won't mention it again if you don't want me to. 
 Please forgive me, Stephen." 
 
 The wounds which she had inflicted upon him were too 
 deep for her small plea to heal.
 
 ig6 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 "Forgive her?" Yes, he told himself savagely, he would 
 forgive her when he had read that letter. He honestly 
 believed he had discovered the basis of their trouble. He 
 would drag the thing out into the open, whatever it was, 
 and destroy it as he would an uncovered nest of rattle- 
 snakes. 
 
 "Give me that letter, Patricia," he gritted between his 
 teeth. 
 
 Her fingers closed spasmodically about the missive. 
 
 "I couldn't," she refused. "I couldn't do that! It's 
 mine! I don't ask to see your letters, do I, Stephen?" 
 
 For an instant he was silent. 
 
 "You certainly do not," he retorted, his voice hard. 
 "Evidently nothing of mine concerns you, but I can't 
 say I feel the same way. Who's the man that writes you 
 from Ossining? You've received two letters from him 
 before since we've been here. Give give me that 
 letter!" 
 
 The words, "My brother, Michael," flew to her lips, 
 but a glance at him killed them before they escaped. 
 A great pain shot through her temples. She shuddered 
 at the duality of a living, erect body and the fixed, dull 
 stare of the dead. She turned partly away, completely 
 disorganized. 
 
 "I think I've quite lost my senses," she said slowly. 
 
 Suddenly impressed with the belief that she was acting, 
 he became beside himself with fury. 
 
 "Yes, I'm sure you have," he whipped out. "At least 
 your judgment is poor. I've stood just about all I'm 
 going to. Give me that letter. I will see it." 
 
 "And I say you shall not," she gulped. Her lips 
 quivered, but she went on, "How how dare you " 
 
 Her faltering question was not completed, because 
 Stephen bounded to her side, snatched hold of her arm and 
 endeavored to wrench the letter from her hand.
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 197 
 
 "Stephen!" she screamed at him. "Stephen, don't 
 don't!" 
 
 "Let me have that letter then, Patricia," he hissed. 
 "Give it to me, or I'll take it away from you." 
 
 "No, no, you wouldn't do that," she contradicted, "you 
 couldn't! Stephen, don't! You're hurting me so! Oh, 
 my arm!" 
 
 "If you don't want me to hurt you, Patricia," he 
 threatened hoarsely, "let me have " 
 
 Then by an effort, tremendous for one so delicate, she 
 jerked herself free and threw the sealed envelope into the 
 grate. 
 
 Stephen bit an oath in two before it was uttered. He 
 snatched the tongs and shoved them into the fire. A 
 blazing log rolled from the andirons on to the stone 
 hearth. The letter lay among the red embers, crisp and 
 brown, and at a savage poke of the tongs it fell apart 
 in ashes. 
 
 When he stood up and looked at his wife, much of his 
 passion left him. She was marble- white, clinging to the 
 back of a chair, her wrist marked with welts where his 
 fingers had been. Contrition for his unwarrantable 
 action tussled with the green-eyed monster that still 
 battled at the portals of his soul. 
 
 "Patricia," he ejaculated in a wretched state, "tell 
 me who wrote it. Oh, I must know, dear! God, I must, 
 I must!" 
 
 As though she had not heard his appeal at all, she still 
 stared into the grate, shockingly unnerved. 
 
 "My letter! My darling's letter!" fell tonelessly from 
 her lips. "It's burned, gone! My boy's letter, and 
 and I wanted it I wanted it!" 
 
 Then she fled the room, weeping hysterically. 
 
 Stunned and panting, Claypoole fixed unseeing eyes 
 upon the door that shut her in. He was frozen cold with
 
 ig8 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 the sudden solving of the riddle which had forced him to 
 an execrable act. His wife loved another man! In the 
 east, at Ossining! The man lived there! Then, why, 
 in God's name, had she married him? Why? Why? 
 
 Mechanically he poked the smouldering log back upon 
 the fire dogs, staggered into the snuggery and closed the 
 door as though some loved one lay a corpse under the roof. 
 
 Patricia had not loved him in the least when she had 
 married him, his reason asserted. His throbbing soul 
 insisted that she had. His judgment rapped smartly 
 against this possibility. All her sweet protestations in 
 those few pre-wedding days 'had been false! To this, 
 denials from the very center of his being came swift and 
 fast. She had loved him ! Of that he was sure! 
 
 Questions for which he found no answers continued to 
 beat upon him through a long, dreary forenoon.
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 199 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX 
 
 THE luncheon gong, cutting through the silence, aroused 
 Stephen Claypoole to the conviction that he had plodded 
 through an interval of intense suffering. Strong as he 
 was in body and mind, his emotional struggle had left 
 him quivering with nerves and indecision. Again and 
 again he had rehearsed the scene of that morning, and 
 each bitter finish of each rehearsal had but more firmly 
 persuaded him that Patricia loved another man. 
 
 His better self told him the generous thing to do 
 would be to release her. He remembered his violent 
 wooing in Butte. He had given her not a moment to 
 think. He had carried her completely off her feet, and 
 she had married him before she knew what she was 
 doing. Yes, he must set her free. 
 
 But there were his heart and his husbandhood ham- 
 mering against that course of action. She was his by 
 every written and unwritten law of God and man. 
 
 Yet, did she belong to him, if she did not love him? 
 Love, and love only, made a man and a woman one in 
 thought and purpose. 
 
 His red hair literally stood on end when he ejaculated 
 aloud that he would not let her go. She had married 
 him. She was his wife, and so long as he stood in his 
 shoes above ground, the fellow in the east should never 
 have her. 
 
 In utter weariness he drew himself up as the gong rang 
 once more. With no desire to eat, he went into the living 
 room where Ming slip-slapped to and fro, arranging the 
 noon meal. Patricia was nowhere to be seen, nor could 
 Stephen catch a sound from behind her dosed door. He 
 knocked and then knocked again.
 
 200 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 "May I bring you a cup of tea, Patricia?" he called. 
 And her suppressed, "No, thanks!" sent him headlong 
 to the table. 
 
 "I don't want any luncheon, Ming," he said curtly. 
 "Clear the stuff away." 
 
 The afternoon proved to Stephen more galling than the 
 morning. In desperation he put on his coat and cap, 
 went out of doors and wandered through the mountains. 
 On his return he found the house not a whit less irksome. 
 
 As the day advanced, a hell of jealousy descended upon 
 him in proportions so huge that it wiped away the benevo- 
 lent promptings which had been conspicuous above his 
 pained pride and which had tempered his impatience. 
 He had been robbed. A thief had stolen into his chancel 
 of love and seized his dearest treasure. 
 
 It was nearly dinner time before he would admit to 
 himself that Patricia was the pirate. She had led him 
 into a fool's paradise. She had worse than deceived him. 
 His sense of justice would not allow him to hold up the 
 man at Ossining for punishment. Patricia, exquisite 
 Patricia, with all her alluring loveliness, had worked him 
 measureless harm. Stretched to his fullest height, his 
 soul ravaged by pain, he vowed he would readjust matters 
 between them. 
 
 Patricia's day had been unlike Claypoole's in that she 
 has stayed in her room, abandoned to grief. Now and 
 then, she moved to replenish the fire. Although the 
 weather was far more mild than during the first days of 
 her exile at the "Eagle's Nest," there were forlorn moan- 
 ings and whisperings outside that doubled and tripled the 
 dark melancholy of the place. 
 
 She longed intensely for Stephen, the Stephen she had 
 married. The man who had torn Michael's letter from 
 her was Patrick O'Kelleron. 
 
 At length the only thought her diseased brain held
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 201 
 
 was that he had slain Stephen as he had the Pater. She 
 counted her man no longer in that esoteric trinity of 
 husband, father and devil. She wanted to die, to follow 
 Stephen into eternity where she would never be sepa- 
 rated from him again. 
 
 The idea of her own demise lifted her quickly to her 
 feet. 
 
 She remembered once in Butte admiring a beautifully 
 etched knife in a Japanese shop. Stephen had bought 
 it, laughingly telling her that it was sharp enough to 
 pierce a pine knot. 
 
 Extracting it from the ivory scabbard, she contemplated 
 the slender, shining blade. What she intended doing with 
 it impelled her back to the grate. She sat down, wholly 
 bewildered. Then the door opened, and her husband 
 walked in, and, as if he had struck it from her hand, the 
 knife slipped down beside her into the chair. 
 
 "Patricia," he began, shutting the door, "I've brought 
 you something to eat." 
 
 He spoke very sternly, as he had that morning when 
 he had demanded the letter. She closed her eyes and 
 remained as quiet as her throbbing nerves would allow. 
 
 "I refuse to let you go without food any longer, my 
 dear," he continued in the same imperious manner. 
 "Here's a bowl of bread and milk and a little brandy in 
 hot water." 
 
 "I don't want it," she succeeded in telling him. 
 
 "But you're going to take it, nevertheless," he returned. 
 "It's ridiculous the way you act. Sit up instantly, and do 
 as I tell you. I shall feed you myself, if you don't, 
 Patricia. Drink this!" 
 
 She sniffed the pungent odor of the brandy under her 
 nose. 
 
 "It smells horrid," she stammered, and she pursed 
 her lips.
 
 202 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 "Drink it!" ordered Claypoole. 
 
 She gulped it down in resignation. 
 
 "That'll brace you up a bit," he stated. "Patricia 
 how do you expect to find the way to your mouth unless 
 you open your eyes? Here! " 
 
 If he had not been obsessed by the memory that she 
 had called the man in Ossining "darling," he would not 
 have strangled the pity that stirred within him when she 
 dropped the spoon which he had thrust into her fingers. 
 
 "Why, you're so weak, you can't hold it," he ejaculated, 
 "and it's nothing but your crying that has brought you 
 to such a shocking state. I wish I had taken you in 
 hand before. If I had, this hateful affair would have 
 been settled long ago. I must talk to you, but that's 
 impossible in your present condition. I'll put this pillow 
 under your head. Like that! You're shivering, too." 
 
 Reaching for a blanket, he placed it around her shoul- 
 ders. 
 
 She opened her lips to speak but closed them again. 
 She thought to acquaint him with the fact that weakness 
 had not relaxed her fingers. He had scared her silly, that 
 was all. As Claypoole saw her sigh against the soft 
 pillow, he was again compelled to believe that she was 
 acting for his benefit. It was a nasty idea, but he had 
 nursed it nearly all the afternoon. 
 
 "Patricia, I order you to cease shaking that way," he 
 said curtly. "If you think I don't mean what I've said, 
 you're very much mistaken. Lie quiet until I fix your 
 food." 
 
 Then he went to the table where he broke the bread 
 into the milk. 
 
 "Are you willing to eat now?" he asked, straightening. 
 
 "I can't," she answered painfully. "My throat's sore." 
 
 Frowning, he picked up the spoon and wiped it on 
 the napkin.
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 203 
 
 "Surely it is," he replied. "A girl can't cry for hours 
 and not have a sore throat. But, in spite of that, you 
 must eat this. 
 
 "I'm sorry, my dear, that you make me do something 
 very much against my liking," he went on severely. "But 
 I've come to the conclusion that a great deal of your 
 headache has been caused by your refusal to take food." 
 Sitting down beside her, he dipped into the milk. "Open 
 your mouth, Patricia, and eat this bread." 
 
 "I couldn't swallow it," she sobbed. "Oh, I couldn't! " 
 
 "Yes, you can, and you must, Patricia. Do you want 
 me to feed you forcibly?" 
 
 "No," she breathed. "No, no! I I will in a 
 minute." 
 
 He waited with the full spoon in his hand. He could 
 hear his heart thumping as if it were located in his ear 
 drums. His conscience gave him a twinge as he gazed 
 at her, but instantly he hardened his heart. How she 
 must have suffered over that damnable letter! By 
 the look of her, she had cried all day. He would have no 
 more of it. 
 
 "Open your mouth immediately," was his austere com- 
 mand. 
 
 She ate slowly, swallowing with difficulty. Finally 
 the bowl was empty, and he stood up. She was very 
 quiet now, her face unlined and childlike and peaceful. 
 Of course, the brandy had calmed her; it had put her to 
 sleep, too, he concluded. 
 
 Before going out, he hesitated, his loving heart yearning 
 over her. If he left her in the chair, she might not 
 waken until morning. Surely he had been unnecessarily 
 cruel to let his jealous temper run away with him in such 
 a manner. She could not help loving the man at Ossin- 
 ing any more than he himself could help loving her. 
 That thought had not occurred to him before. It put
 
 204 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 another light on her conduct. Yet the phrase, "My 
 darling's letter," mocked him. As he placed the bowl 
 on the tray, a shudder shook his enormous frame. 
 Another man, whom he was unable to visualize, rose up 
 between him and the tiny, reclining figure with taunting 
 reality, and a racking sob left his lips. He could not 
 keep her. To lift her into life and love once more, 
 he knew of but one way. 
 
 "Patricia," he exclaimed in husky misery. 
 
 "What?" she queried drowsily. 
 
 "Listen," he begged. 
 
 "Well?" she said, her head bobbing as she attempted 
 to raise it. 
 
 Pushed to the very end of his strained wits, he sat down. 
 
 "Poor, little girl! Poor, unfortunate child!" he mur- 
 mured brokenly. "Patricia dear, won't you go to bed?" 
 
 In her effort to throw off the cloud of slumber, she 
 stirred. That tender, beautiful voice was Stephen's. 
 One of her small hands lifted, and he caught it as it fell. 
 She did not withdraw it, and Stephen clasped it closer. 
 
 "I'm very tired," she whispered. 
 
 "Of course, you are, dear. I know you are," he agreed, 
 "and I frightened you! I'm so sorry, oh, so sorry!" 
 
 "My head aches, too, Stephen," she told him. "It's 
 strange my head on top here. It hurts!" 
 
 "But if you go to bed and to sleep," he argued, "you'd 
 feel better in the morning. Will you now? And please 
 don't cry any more." 
 
 Stephen's voice suddenly failed him, and he bent for- 
 ward and laid his lips on her hand. Then he was stung 
 with the recollection that in a spiritual sense she did not 
 belong to him, no matter how his mighty desire clamored 
 for her. 
 
 "Dear, sit up now," he urged softly. "Why, you're 
 quite dead with sleep, poor baby!"
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 205 
 
 "I know it," she admitted. "By and by, I'll go to bed." 
 
 "But I can't leave you like this," he persisted. "Rest, 
 dear child, while Stephen takes down your hair. No, 
 you don't even have to move. I'll do it very carefully." 
 
 Already she was well on her way to the land of Nod, 
 and, as she made no reply, hot blood raced to his temples. 
 He was going to put her to bed ! But just how to begin, 
 he had not the least notion. He had no idea where to 
 find the garments she needed, and his knees were weak 
 as he walked over to turn down the light. Then he went 
 to the wardrobe and opened it. 
 
 There he discovered a heavy nightdress, spanning two 
 hooks. White to the ears, he flung it over his arm and 
 crept across the room. From the dresser he gathered up 
 a comb and a brush, and he turned to take note of his 
 wife's ebony curls, mysteriously pinned about her shapely 
 head. 
 
 In puzzlement his fingers made a swift run through his 
 own red hair. Where should he start on this unfamiliar 
 task that had suddenly loomed before him as a duty? He 
 extended one hand but drew it back again. 
 
 "Patricia," in an undertone. 
 
 She was sound asleep, and he did not call her again. 
 He reached forth and pulled out three hairpins at one 
 time. He blinked at them an instant, then laid them 
 side by side with mathematical precision on the table. 
 Encouraged, he once more dove into her dark curls. 
 
 When the last pin was out, and her hair came shower- 
 ing down about her white face, he stood up in bewilder- 
 ment. Then, with his under lip caught between his 
 teeth, he ventured to pass the brush the length of her 
 hair. 
 
 "Heaven help me not to pull it out by the roots," he 
 supplicated, brushing bravely. 
 
 Evidently he was helped, because he managed to
 
 2 o6 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 untangle the curls and twist them into an irregular mis- 
 shapen braid. 
 
 There, that part was done! But more was to follow! 
 
 When he lifted her out of the chair, she sighed, and her 
 head fell against his breast. She was but a feather- 
 weight in his embrace. Such a little girl his wife! 
 He changed his invocation from "God help me!" to "Oh, 
 God, let me have strength to help her!" 
 
 On his slow journey through the shadowed room, there 
 surged through him the resolve that to-morrow he would 
 make her happy. To-morrow they would start for New 
 York and from New York to Ossining. He had dis- 
 covered in his fraternal ministrations that, no matter 
 what happened to him, he must revive in her the wish to 
 live. His darling's happiness before his own always! 
 
 The wind mourned over the mountains drearily. All 
 of a sudden be became conscious of it, and it seemed, as 
 he held to his breast the woman who had made barren his 
 soul, that there were human beings out there, chained in 
 the wilderness, as he was to be chained to long years of 
 future desolation. With that thought in mind he flung 
 up his head. 
 
 "Thou, God, who hast never been tempted by a woman's 
 sweetness," he prayed, "help help me to give her up! 
 Amen!" 
 
 As he laid her gently down on the bed, he repeated 
 through strained lips, "Help me now, God! Help me 
 to-morrow, too!" 
 
 By the time he had made her ready for rest, he was 
 quite used to praying. The fact is that from the moment 
 he started that difficult task of locating buttons until her 
 small, cold feet were encased in the knitted night slippers, 
 "Dear God, help us both!" and "Oh, God, help!" were 
 poured into the ear of the Infinite in rapid succession. 
 
 It was only when he stood inside the snuggery door
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 207 
 
 that he realized fully how much his burning petitions had 
 bolstered up his manhood. He had not changed his 
 mind. To-morrow he would give her back to happiness. 
 
 And Patricia slept, and in her dreams there walked a 
 procession of figures, strangers with dark faces and 
 leering smiles. From what seemed a great distance away 
 Alf Carraby and Ruth Rowland waved their hands to her. 
 Then they dissolved into Sing Sing prison where she 
 followed them, only to see Michael behind bars through 
 which she could not reach him. She was running away 
 from the beleaguered place when she saw the Pater and 
 Stephen float towards her. 
 
 Both were smiling, and her own lips curled a little in 
 response. She had thought they were both dead. She 
 stirred in her sleep when the Pater took one of her hands, 
 and Stephen, his brown eyes glowing, came directly to 
 her, as she pronounced his name aloud. 
 
 Then it seemed as if they lifted her completely off her 
 feet and carried her away through illimitable spaces. 
 They rode forth like the wind. How blissfully safe 
 she felt between the two of them. Then she thought they 
 suddenly alighted on the top of a huge mountain. She 
 struggled when she saw the "Eagle's Nest." She cried 
 out against going into the house, but the next thing she 
 knew she was in the living room, alone with her father. 
 
 "Where did he go, Pater love?" she asked. Then, more 
 sharply, "Where is my husband?" 
 
 And the Pater, all at once become a wizened, unsmiling 
 and death-white wraith, answered: 
 
 "He's dead. Patrick O'Kelleron killed us both. His 
 life is none too precious to pay his debt to the Pepper- 
 days." 
 
 Her head turned restlessly on the pillow as if she were 
 striving to throw off the hateful nightmare. But she be- 
 came quiet again and went on dreaming. Hideous
 
 208 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 pictures passed across her mind, like demon figures mov- 
 ing over a screen. Patrick O'Kelleron glowered darkly 
 before her sleeping vision. She wanted to kill him; she 
 intended to kill him! It was her duty, her sacred duty 
 to Stephen, to the Pater. 
 
 Like a small, white ghost, she drifted from the bed. 
 She might have been wide-awake, so easily did she locate 
 the knife that had slipped down between the chair arm and 
 the cushion. 
 
 With it clasped in her fingers, she flitted across the 
 floor and, like a shadow, was gone. 
 
 The silvery tone of the mantel clock struck "one" as 
 Stephen Claypoole opened his eyes. In his pajamas 
 and dressing gown he had fallen asleep, reading, and the 
 green-shaded lamp had burned dim since the book had 
 dropped aside. 
 
 For a time he sat, stupidly wishing he were in bed. 
 Aye, that it was morning, rather! There would be no 
 more sleep for him that night! 
 
 All in an instant he was impressed with the feeling that 
 he was not alone. He turned his head and for a moment 
 imagined that, out of the past agony and his own super- 
 lative love, he was seeing some one who was not there at 
 all. That shrinking, white figure, kneeling within touch- 
 ing distance, was not his wife! She was forbidden to 
 him; her own wish had caused the separation which lay 
 but a few hours off. He had been in consummate torment 
 so long that his brain was conjuring phantoms. 
 
 "Patricia, Patricia," he exclaimed. 
 
 Then, when a short sob reached him, he knew she had 
 come to him at last. Joy flooded through him in such 
 measure that hot tears were wrung from his eyes. She 
 loved him! Nothing nothing but a great revelation 
 could have conquered her maidenly reserve. 
 
 "My darling," he breathed, laying his hand on her
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 209 
 
 bowed head. "You've come to forgive me, dear. You've 
 forgotten all my wickedness. You're mine now mine ! " 
 
 He sprang from the divan, still talking in swift, jerky 
 sentences. 
 
 She was wide awake but too bewildered to move. Hazily 
 she remembered that Stephen had brushed her hair, that 
 he had to put her to bed. Then the dream came back, like 
 some ugly tale. 
 
 "Let me stay here a minute," she breathed. "For- 
 give forgive me!" 
 
 "There's not one thing for me forgive," he murmured. 
 "You don't have to stay on your knees to me, my 
 Patricia. That you are here that you've come of your 
 own accord. My precious let me hold you in my arms." 
 
 Overcome by whipping emotion, he knelt down beside 
 her, fixing her with a lingering, hungry gaze. He 
 touched her arm, and Patricia clutched his hand. 
 
 "I came in here to kill you, I guess," she 
 gasped. "I think I must have." 
 
 "And it almost did kill me!" he returned hoarsely, 
 disregarding the dire significance of her faltering speech. 
 "How beautiful you are! How white you are! Dar- 
 ling, don't tremble so. Don't you understand you're 
 here with me, and that I love you that I love you better 
 than all the world better than myself!" 
 
 He snatched her roughly, desperately, to his breast as 
 she pleaded brokenly that he listen, please, please, to 
 something she had to tell him. 
 
 "Put your arms around me," he begged, and he kissed 
 her fervently again and again. "How beautiful your 
 hair is! Dear curls my curls! I'm starved starved! 
 How I've wanted you you, sweet, just you!" 
 
 As if he intended never to let her go, he strained her 
 against him, nor did her stammering pleas sink into his 
 consciousness.
 
 2 io THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 "How awful these days have been, my dear, dear 
 love !" he murmured. "But they're over forever. Listen 
 to me, Patricia! Stop crying, or you can't hear what I 
 say. Everything is forgotten as if it had never been! 
 I love you! How wee you are! Only a small, small 
 armful! You're in my arms, darling! Your head is where 
 it ought to be. I shall never let you go again." 
 
 On and on he rambled, promising her his lifelong de- 
 votion, his love, his constant care. His musical voice, 
 deep-toned with passion, soothed her to silence. She 
 felt his warm tears on her face. She was living in that 
 day when the Prince of Peace was returned to her 
 through Stephen. She had forgotten the Pater, the knife 
 and Patrick O'Kelleron. 
 
 Suddenly he held her out on his hands with one magni- 
 ficent, tragic gesture. 
 
 "Dear Father in Heaven, Thou hast given me back Thy 
 choicest gift my wife!" he said. "And I I, Patrick 
 O'Kelleron, swear to Thee " 
 
 Patricia's scream cut into his oath and checked it. As 
 she struggled, he drew her back and covered her mouth 
 with kisses until he lost all control of himself. He re- 
 membered nothing but that she had broken down the 
 barrier between them. 
 
 When he ceased kissing her, her head fell helpless 
 against him. 
 
 "Oh, Christ in Heaven, how I love you, dear my 
 dear," he cried thrillingly. "Oh, heart of mine, how I 
 love you!"
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 211 
 
 CHAPTER XXX 
 
 THE dawn was struggling out of a dark, frost-bound 
 night as Stephen Claypoole raised his head and peered 
 into the shadowy room. At first his thoughts were con- 
 fused. All his sensibilities refused to answer his mental 
 demand, "What what happened?" 
 
 Before he came upon the answer to his question, his 
 eyes fell upon Patricia over near the window. She was 
 curled up in a big chair under a cover, her lids lowered, 
 her face, blue-white, resting on her delicate arm. She 
 looked as if she were dead! 
 
 Then he remembered, and shamed blood colored his 
 face. He recollected that, when he had fallen asleep, she 
 had been belted tightly within his arms, and that she had 
 been very quiet, very subdued. His refusal to listen to 
 her explanation why she had crept into the snuggery rose 
 up and confronted him. 
 
 Silently he slipped from the bed and tiptoed across the 
 room. His eyes slowly filling with tears, he gazed down 
 upon her. Now, in the gray, morning light, he was 
 ravaged by regret and remorse. She had begged for a few 
 little minutes in which to tell him something. She had 
 cried that she had come to kill him. And he had laughed. 
 How his own answer tormented him! 
 
 "I don't care, my sweet, what brought you here. I'm 
 willing to die in your arms. I won't listen to anything. 
 I won't! I won't! I want you now you, always!" 
 
 He cursed his self-indulgent egotism. Then he added 
 fresh curses upon his unquenched desires which at this 
 moment almost forced him to take her, sleeping though 
 she was, again into his arms. He could find no excuse
 
 212 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 for himself, as he recalled how he had madly locked the 
 door when she had endeavored to escape to her own 
 chamber. He had put the key far out of the reach of her 
 slender, pleading arms. He shot a glance to the picture 
 molding. Yes, there it was, gleaming at him like a 
 brass eye. Every word she had uttered, her every sob- 
 bing appeal, yes, every tear she had shed seemed to 
 attack him, to display his conduct to his true self with 
 bitter recrimination. Why had he not listened? Why 
 had he not given a thought to the appalling fact that she 
 loved another man. She would have confided in him if 
 he had given her time. She had begged him to hear her, 
 and, gross brute that he was, he had refused. He writhed 
 in mental torture. This battle to retain his self-esteem 
 was, indeed, a wracking experience. 
 
 He dreaded, yet insupportably longed, for her to waken. 
 Of course, she would insist on leaving him immediately. 
 The thought covered him with cold sweat. Where 
 yesterday he had adored her to the point of delirium, now 
 his heart of hearts encompassed her around and about, 
 leaving no opening through which she could escape to the 
 man at Ossining. 
 
 Blindly he stumbled away, procured the key, gathered 
 up his wearing apparel and vanished. 
 
 A throng of bitter memories pried open Patricia's eyes 
 a few minutes later. It was an appreciable time before 
 she realized that she was was still in the snuggery. Then 
 the material things around her swung dizzily in circles 
 as memory, in lightning flashes, went across her brain. 
 That slender sharp knife! And she had dreamed of 
 killing Stephen with it! No, not Stephen! Patrick 
 O'Kelleron! Under the blanket her body became like 
 goose skin. She could not have been colder if she had 
 stood naked in a storm. 
 
 She remembered she had been gripped for hours in her
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 213 
 
 husband's arms, and she turned from that happening as 
 from a cup of gall and wormwood. Nothing was of con- 
 sequence but that she had not murdered Stephen. 
 
 The knife, where was it? Had it just been part of 
 her dream that she had brought it with her? 
 
 She sprang up. Last night she had awakened over 
 there by the divan. Yes, there it was! In another 
 instant she had secured it and was back under the blanket. 
 
 A familiar squeak announced the opening of the door, 
 and Stephen walked in. She did not move or speak. She 
 heard him place a table at her side, and the odor of 
 coffee came to her nostrils. 
 
 "Drink this, Patricia dear," he entreated humbly. "I'll 
 keep Ming in the kitchen for an hour. There's a fire in 
 your room." 
 
 With that he fled, his feet tripping over each other. 
 
 At ten o'clock, when he stole again into the snuggery, 
 all signs of her had disappeared. 
 
 At noon time he took her a tray which in silence he 
 placed beside her bed. If she were awake, she gave no 
 sign; sighing, he went away again. 
 
 After dark, when the dinner things had been cleared 
 away, he ventured back, spurred on by torture such as 
 he had never before endured. He approached her softly, 
 reverently. She was not asleep, for he perceived with a 
 spasm of pain that her hand went to her eyes at his 
 approach. 
 
 "Last night I was crazy, I think, Patricia," he said. 
 "Won't you look at me, please, dear? Won't you let me 
 tell you how sorry I am?" 
 
 "I'm so glad, oh, so glad I didn't kill you," she 
 quivered with a long gasp. 
 
 "How silly, to get such a notion into your head," 
 he returned jerkily. "Darling, I know exactly what hurts 
 you so, but I can help you if you'll forgive me. Won't
 
 214 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 you forgive your boy this once. Could you just try? 
 I'll be very kind. I swear I will! I'll never forget 
 again how you feel toward me. Then together we can 
 work out this horrid situation. It's possible, quite pos- 
 sible. We ought to face this thing just as it is." He went 
 white and red as he spoke. "I was mad, Patricia, stark 
 mad last night! Darling, can't you find it in your dear, 
 kind heart to ease my mind a little?" 
 
 "I haven't any heart left, Stephen," she wailed. "It's 
 gone somewhere away off. Oh, I don't know what to do ! " 
 
 She set her teeth upon her under lip to restrain its 
 trembling. 
 
 "I was mad last night, too," she confessed. "Could 
 you could you let me go away now, Stephen? Away 
 by myself? I do wish to go so." 
 
 His whole frame shook in negation. Less now than 
 yesterday! 
 
 "No! No! God, no!" he exclaimed. "Oh, my 
 dear, sit up, or at least turn your face this way! Do 
 let me talk to you sensibly. And you hear me, and be 
 persuaded if you can. I wish more than I can say that 
 I had listened to what you wanted to tell me last night. 
 Will you let me wrap you in a blanket and carry you to 
 the fire? Then you can tell me there." 
 
 "Not now," she refused, "not now!" 
 
 "We can't go on this way," he continued. "It isn't 
 humanly possible to stay in the state of mind you're 
 in, Patricia. Child, if not for my sake, then for your 
 own, try to use your reason. We're married! Nothing 
 can undo that! I thought once it could be done. I see 
 now it can't. You'll change your mind about leaving me, 
 and let me prove my love for you. Say you will ! " 
 
 Without removing her hand from her eyes, she said: 
 
 "No! Perhaps, I should try and kill you again." 
 
 Her statement filled the man with singular, inward fury.
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 215 
 
 She was acting again. She was a poseur, persistent in her 
 tomfoolery. 
 
 All the masculine, subduing instincts arose again within 
 him and clamored against her edict of unhappiness for 
 them both. Yet, how could he determine which way to 
 turn or what to do with a reticent woman who would 
 neither show any common sense nor even look at him? 
 He had bumped into a wall of stone, only to beat his head, 
 already bruised and aching, against it. 
 
 "Would you like to go to California, Patricia?" he 
 asked, determined to ignore her attitude, "or if not there, 
 some other place?" 
 
 "With you?" she breathed. 
 
 "Certainly with me!" he responded. "Of course! I'm 
 your husband. Your place is with me; mine is with you." 
 
 "Will you take me to New York?" There was hope in 
 her voice as she put the question. 
 
 Ossining was near New York. That thought went over 
 Claypoole like a douche of cold water. His lips became 
 straight, hard lines. 
 
 "Anywhere but there," he said. "If we went to 
 New York, you'd leave me. I won't run the risk. I 
 can't run the risk to-day. Your idea is to leave me, 
 isn't it?" 
 
 She neither affirmed nor negatived his question; nor 
 did she turn her head on the pillow. 
 
 "I'm perfectly willing to leave Montana, if you like," 
 he proceeded after a while. "But I love you too well to 
 let you go back to New York." 
 
 Once more he waited for her reply. It became evi- 
 dent that she did not intend to make any, so he said in 
 warmer tones : 
 
 "Then I'll telephone for a drawing-room to Los Angeles. 
 Would you like to stop off at Salt Lake, Patricia dear?" 
 
 "If you would," she acquiesced meekly.
 
 216 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 An afterthought forced him to add: 
 
 "I'll take you to any spot on earth save New York. 
 Patricia, isn't there anything under heaven I can do 
 to make you happy?" 
 
 "I wish I could go away alone," was all she said. 
 
 Again intense anger shook him. He strode to the 
 door as if to escape the temptation to say words for which 
 he would be sorry afterwards. 
 
 "Then it's settled that we'll go away immediately," he 
 said in stifled tones, "but but I do want to please you. 
 I'll take you east if you'll promise to live with me. Will 
 you, Patricia? Will you give me your word on that?" 
 
 "No, Stephen," drifted to him faintly. 
 
 The moment the door closed behind him, she sat 
 straight up in bed. She could not go to Salt Lake Los 
 Angeles or any other place with her husband. That 
 was firmly established in her mind. She was beginning 
 to reason somewhat. She had married Patrick O'Kelleron. 
 The very name had flung the Pater into her vision in 
 Idaho. She did not make any effort to figure out the 
 mystery of his identification with Stephen. Last night 
 she had thought to kill Patrick O'Kelleron in her sleep. 
 She shuddered back to the pillow and covered her head. 
 She had sense enough to realize, if she had done that, 
 she would have killed the person she loved best on earth, 
 Stephen. To save him from her hate against Patrick 
 O'Kelleron, she must never see him again. 
 
 She scrambled out of bed, electrified by the sudden 
 decision that she would run away from the "Eagle's 
 Nest" that night. She would go now! Now! At any 
 minute she might repeat the attempt of last night with 
 disastrous results. She slipped to the floor, her strength 
 gone, her heart storming against the picture that gripped 
 her. 
 
 Prostrate there, she recalled that something had awak-
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 217 
 
 ened her the night before in the snuggery. Her arm 
 was uplifted for the blow, too. Again the dream floated 
 through her memory. All its hideous details moved on 
 from start to finish until once more she stood with that 
 upraised knife to make Patrick O'Kelleron pay his debt 
 to the Pater. 
 
 Then she had seen Stephen's figure on the divan. That 
 sight had toppled her over, that and the consciousness 
 that she had come to kill him. 
 
 Then, indeed, for agonizing moments, was she caught 
 and held by panic. Stephen's dear life would have paid 
 Patrick O'Kelleron's debt! 
 
 With an effort she got to her feet, almost in convul- 
 sions. She paused to recollect where she had put the 
 knife when she had returned from the snuggery. Under 
 the scarf on the dressing table! She wanted to get her 
 hands on it so badly that she lost one of her knitted slip- 
 pers in her flight over the rug. 
 
 Shudderingly she lifted the knife as if she loathed its 
 touch. Then she noiselessly opened the window and 
 flung it far out into the snow-covered, mountain shrub. 
 
 Standing in her nightrobe, she essayed to plan her 
 movements. First, she had the forethought to creep to 
 the door and turn the key. 
 
 Then in trembling silence she began to dress. She 
 must hide away somewhere! She knew no other way to 
 save her husband, no other way to protect him from her 
 hatred of Patrick O'Kelleron. The money she had was 
 Stephen's. It took some time for her judgment to argue 
 her into stowing it away on her person. Into her week- 
 end bag she packed the few necessary things that lay on 
 her dressing table. Working swiftly, she gave only fit- 
 ful attention to what she was doing. Mentally she was 
 traveling the road that led from the "Eagle's Nest" to the 
 city of Butte.
 
 2 i8 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 Then through the open window she dropped her bag 
 to the ground and crawled over the sill. Like a man in 
 a dream, she gazed back into the house where she had 
 met life's greatest experiences. She was leaving it for- 
 ever. 
 
 What fetched a wistful, suppressed sob and a surge of 
 love for Stephen was an order that she heard him give 
 the Mongolian: 
 
 "We'll leave for Salt Lake to-morrow night, Ming. 
 Begin packing in the morning. Mrs. Claypocle is ill, so 
 go about it with as little fuss as possible." 
 
 When he ceased speaking, she plunged through the 
 snow to the road, where she stood an instant, dazedly seek- 
 ing her bearings. 
 
 Any nervousness as to what might happen to herself 
 on that hazardous journey was overcome by her deter- 
 mination to catch the late train east. Even the over- 
 powering mountains that zigzagged their bulk in hazy 
 lines along the horizon made no impression upon her. 
 She remembered that her love for Stephen was driving 
 her away. Finally she turned from the "Eagle's Nest" 
 to Butte, off there where hundreds of lights shone out like 
 a swarm of winking fireflies.
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 219 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI 
 
 ABOUT the time that her love for her husband, Stephen 
 Claypoole, had decided Patricia to flee from her husband, 
 Patrick O'Kelleron, a tall young man stood at the station 
 entrance in Butte and ran his eye over a line of taxis and 
 omnibuses. Hotel Thornton was his destination; so he 
 clambered into a conveyance that bore the name of that 
 hostelry, placed his baggage on the floor and sat down. 
 
 A baffled, unsatisfied passion had driven Edward Blake 
 from the Atlantic to the Pacific in search of Patricia 
 Pepperday. 
 
 "It's far sweeter to love a little than to be adored 
 much," an ancient lover once sighed. To this Edward 
 agreed without analysis. Against the background of 
 Flossie's tearful submission and worshipful yielding, 
 Patricia's haughty, gray eyes had proven irresistibly 
 alluring. 
 
 At the time when one calamity after another had de- 
 scended on the Pepperdays, Blake's colossal conceit had 
 argued that she would appeal to him. This conclusion 
 had induced him to remain aloofly silent, but amazement 
 and consternation at her sudden departure from New 
 York had sent him headlong in pursuit of her address, and 
 he considered himself a clever strategist in that he had 
 inveigled Fancy Cavendish into displaying her picture 
 postal cards which she had received from Miss Pepper- 
 day. The recent ones were postmarked, "Butte, Mont." 
 
 Before leaving New York he had arranged with his 
 law partner to approach Flossie about a divorce, and he 
 felt certain that the substantial sum he was willing to 
 settle upon her would be a temptation she could not with-
 
 220 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 stand. All women were attracted toward an independent 
 income, and, of course, Flossie was not an exception to 
 the rule. He smiled inwardly as he remembered how 
 thoroughly he had cut himself off from his associates 
 in New York. A trip for his health which would last 
 until he was needed at election; yes, he might be home in 
 less time; indeed, he had not lost his ambitions to hold 
 a judgeship, had been his answers to impertinent ques- 
 tions. But he had forborne expressing aloud that his 
 future depended on two women, Patricia and his wife. 
 
 As the 'bus rattled up the hill, he muttered a comment 
 about Martin Brewer which was bald in its emphasis. 
 He wondered what tack he would be forced to take if 
 Brewer had acquainted Patricia with the existence of a 
 Mrs. Edward Blake. Ah, such meddlesome old Betties, 
 inoculated with moral philanthropy, were a menace to 
 every young man of the better class in New York! 
 
 On this momentous journey toward the setting sun and 
 toward love in the highest sense of the word, Blake was 
 traveling incognito. He was unwilling that his name and 
 fame should hamper his appeal to Patricia. Even though 
 she had tattered his high pride to ribbons by disdain and 
 contempt, he still had enough conceit to buoy him up in 
 the belief that once she looked upon him in this land of 
 snow and ice Bah! That for pussyfoot Brewer! As he 
 swung into the hotel, he snapped his mental fingers 
 straight into Martin's face. 
 
 "Thomas Black, Chicago, 111.," was still ink-moist from 
 the flourish of his fountain pen when he left the desk to 
 be directed to his room. 
 
 Until after ten o'clock he sat in the hotel lobby, smok- 
 ing. He regretted the last several long pulls at the bottle 
 in his traveling case as he remembered Patricia's wither- 
 ing scorn at Balmville, but he contented himself with the 
 thought that from now on he would let whiskey alone.
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 221 
 
 A good-natured individual, whom he had noticed at 
 dinner with a pretty girl, took an empty chair on his 
 right. It was evident to Edward that he was a well- 
 known citizen for he bowed frequently and often greeted 
 a passer-by with a chummy "Howdy." 
 
 Enviously Blake watched him play with a large cigar. 
 No man could so enjoy himself and have one big care, 
 and the sigh that followed that decision seemed to come 
 from the region of the alderman's boots. Freedom from 
 open and secret worries was not listed among his joys. 
 
 Conscious of his neighbor's proximity and steady stare, 
 the Butte man turned his head. 
 
 "Nice night," he remarked pleasantly with the cam- 
 araderie of the West. 
 
 "Too cold to suit me," responded Blake, glad of speech. 
 
 Poising his cigar in mid-air, the stranger said: 
 
 "Oh, the weather's fine now, compared to what it has 
 been. I'm Alf Carraby, sir, an old resident here. Some 
 folks don't like livin' up here in this high altitude, but 
 to my mind Butte's the only city on the globe." 
 
 "You have the same idea about your town that most 
 people have about theirs," laughed Blake. "Now, I don't 
 care to live west of Chicago myself. But it's a matter 
 of growing fond of a place, I imagine." 
 
 Without hesitation Carraby agreed. 
 
 "Of course, that's so! It's generally where bread 
 grows well buttered that a fellow likes it. Know any- 
 body in Butte?" 
 
 Out of Blake's desire to locate Patricia before he slept 
 sprang a quick decision. 
 
 "Yes, I have one friend here," he acknowledged. "At 
 least, I imagine so," and then he checked himself with a 
 short ejaculation which went unnoticed by the other man. 
 
 A small black bag in her hand, Patricia Pepperday was 
 passing through the hotel corridor. Edward had painted
 
 222 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 many mind pictures about his first glimpse of her but 
 never one like this. 
 
 "See that kid goin' along there?" Carraby broke in on 
 his shocked surprise. "That pretty, little, dark one just 
 speakin' to the clerk? Well, she can act, that girl can!" 
 
 By sheer will power Blake glued his big body to the 
 chair. His judgment reasoned that this was not the 
 propitious moment to approach her. Yet, as she dis- 
 appeared into the elevator, he set his teeth to prevent 
 himself from calling out her name. 
 
 "Who is she?" he queried, with effort holding his voice 
 steady. 
 
 "Patricia Rushmore, and as sweet a chicken as ever 
 acted before my footlights," answered Carraby loqua- 
 ciously. "She was my star just long enough to establish 
 herself as a favorite here in Butte and then gave in her 
 notice. I had an up-and-down fight with her, but it didn't 
 do any good. I can't say she left me high and dry, for 
 her understudy is a cute kid. Her name's Ruth Rowland, 
 and she's a peach of a girl. 
 
 "I'm not sayin' a word against her or her acting, mind 
 you, but the trouble is, I'm goin' to marry 'er, and, of 
 course, I can't get her best work. I said 'Damn' to her 
 the other day, and she gave me a call you could have heard 
 to the coast. But, Lord, she's so sweet, is that Ruth, that 
 I don't much care what she does say to me. 
 
 "But it's different with Rushmore. She's an almighty 
 hard worker, and I'm comin' to call on 'er to-morrow and 
 see if I can make a dicker with 'er. She is sure some good 
 little actress ! " 
 
 "Did she join another company?" inquired Blake. 
 
 "No, she wouldn't do that! She got to playin' around 
 with an author " 
 
 "So you have authors out here, too," was the curt in- 
 terruption.
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 223 
 
 "Yes, a sort of one," nodded the manager. "Fellow by 
 name of Stephen Claypoole, and he scribbles damned 
 good stuff, or at least the parts I've read were. But 
 Rushmore's like most other actresses! She fell for the 
 first good-lookin' duck that came quacking along. Say, 
 didn't she look as if some one had dragged her through 
 an inch knothole? But, maybe, her experiences with Clay- 
 poole won't hurt 'er any for the stage." 
 
 "Claypoole?" echoed Blake with assumed indifference. 
 "Claypoole? I never heard of him." 
 
 "Perhaps, not! But you will if he keeps on with his 
 work. He's a picturesque fellow, that Stephen, but I wish 
 to God I'd never introduced 'im to Miss Rushmore." 
 
 "A picturesque fellow!" Edward Blake found himself 
 endeavoring to visualize the personality of the man who 
 had stamped that expression of suffering on Patricia 
 Pepperday's face. His ever-ready hate sprang out at the 
 stranger with murderous intent. 
 
 "Where does he live?" dropped from his lips. 
 
 "That depends," Carraby told him. "While he was 
 courtin' Rushmore, he stuck to Butte closer than a poor 
 relation. But he has a place off in the hills west of Butte, 
 three or four miles beyond Galena Gulch. I went out 
 with him once, and it's amazin' how much stuff he's lugged 
 up there to make it comfortable. 'Eagle's Nest/ he calls 
 it. Nice place to take a girl to, I don't think! It's God- 
 forsaken, and, Great Jehoshaphat, as lonely as I'd be in 
 heaven with a harp. I wonder if Claypoole did coax 
 that kid up there! He always struck me as the soul 
 of honor. But you can't tell by the looks of a toad how 
 far he'll leap. Why, you're not going to hit the feathers 
 so soon ! The night's young yet." 
 
 "I think I'll go write some letters," returned Blake, 
 "and then I'll turn in. Thanks for a pleasant half- 
 hour, Carraby."
 
 224 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 Racked with bitter meditations and unable to sleep, 
 Stephen Claypoole lived through his last night at the 
 "Eagle's Nest." 
 
 Three of the hours of the day that would find him no 
 longer in Montana had passed. As the clock struck, he 
 arose and prowled out into the living room. There he 
 stood with his ear against Patricia's door. All was quiet 
 within. He hoped passionately that the poor child was 
 asleep. He went to the grate, where a smoldering log 
 rested on the andirons. Ming had banked the fire for the 
 night. Tired to his bones with self-condemnation, he 
 leaned against the mantel. He would be glad to get away 
 from Montana. The house he had grown to love because 
 of its solitude was now repulsive. It always would be 
 repulsive after last night. 
 
 Then a sound from the outside brought him suddenly 
 erect. It was foreign to the mountain noises, suspi- 
 ciously like a human being. But no one ever came to the 
 "Eagle's Nest" at this time of night, not even the China- 
 men who now and then visited Ming. Yet, he was sure he 
 had heard footsteps. 
 
 On his way toward the door there came a rap upon it, 
 a smartly incisive rap that did not accord with the dif- 
 fident nature of the Mongolians. He unlocked the door 
 and threw it open. 
 
 "Hello," he called, "who's there?" 
 
 "Me," answered a voice, and Edward Blake loomed 
 forth out of the night. 
 
 Claypoole was the first to recover himself from the 
 shock of the meeting. However, he made no pretense of 
 welcome, but the other, insensible to any discourtesy, 
 crossed the threshold at one stride. 
 
 "For the love of God, Blake, where'd you come from!" 
 exclaimed Stephen. 
 
 His facial muscles working like threads, Edward Blake
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 225 
 
 closed the door. Coming unexpectedly upon Patrick 
 O'Kelleron instead of the man he sought aggravated his 
 already inflamed temper. 
 
 "Where's Stephen Claypoole?" scraped from his throat. 
 
 "Here," retorted Stephen, stiffening. "What do you 
 want of me?" 
 
 Austere accusation drew Blake's body to its fullest 
 height. His blazing eyes indicted his host a liar. 
 
 "You're Patrick O'Kelleron," he responded trenchantly. 
 
 "I'm Stephen Claypoole, also," was the icy answer. 
 
 Ire was rising by the minute in Claypoole's breast. He 
 had never cared for Alderman Blake, even when their 
 profession and club life had brought them together in 
 New York. Now he resented his intrusion and bellig- 
 erent attitude with haughtiness. 
 
 "I say it again," he asserted, "I am Stephen Clay- 
 poole." 
 
 For the fact to seep through Blake's fuddled brain 
 took a full half-minute. At first he was impressed with 
 the idea that O'Kelleron was shielding Claypoole for 
 some reason or other. But, groggy as he was, he remem- 
 bered Patrick's reputation in New York for veracity, and, 
 as he stared into the scintillant brown eyes and took note 
 of the mighty man with his red head thrown back im- 
 periously, he realized like a flash, that he had heard the 
 truth. 
 
 "Then then, if you are, what did you do to to 
 Patricia Pepperday?" he rasped. 
 
 Astonishment wiped the critical frown from Claypoole's 
 brow. 
 
 "I haven't the slightest acquaintance with the young 
 lady," he replied promptly. "To my knowledge I've 
 never seen her." 
 
 "You lie! " burst from Blake, bitterly vehement. 
 
 Stephen's fists clenched, but almost immediately they
 
 226 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 relaxed. His sane mind was conscious that he was deal- 
 ing with a man, crazed by alcohol. That being so, he 
 would not attack him, if it could be avoided. 
 
 "I rather think, Blake, that you've quite lost control of 
 yourself," he announced coldly. "I'd advise you not to 
 repeat what you just said. I've told you I don't know 
 Miss Pepperday if you mean Michael Pepperday's 
 sister." 
 
 "Yes! She's just the one I do mean," said Blake 
 disjointedly. "Mike Pepperday's sister, Patricia Pepper- 
 day! If you're Claypoole, I tell you again you lie when 
 you say you don't know her. I saw her in Butte but a 
 few hours ago, and a man told me " 
 
 With the velocity of light hideous thoughts swept 
 across Stephen. Sweat ran from every pore in his body. 
 Then he banished the ugly suggestion. His Patricia was 
 not in Butte. The picture of her dear face shrouded by 
 dark curls, quieted him a little. She was asleep, asleep 
 in her own bed and should not be aroused. Advancing 
 a step, he flung out a hand toward a chair. 
 
 "Sit down, Ed," he urged in a low voice, "and please 
 don't be quite so noisy." 
 
 "I don't want to sit down," muttered Blake. 
 
 The frown came back to Claypoole 's brow, even more 
 pronounced. 
 
 "Stand, then! It makes no difference to me," he 
 rejoined, "but you must listen quietly to what I'm going 
 to say. I can't help what a man told you in Butte. I 
 don't know Miss Pepperday. I've never known but one 
 Patricia, and she was Patricia Rushmore." 
 
 With difficulty Blake followed the statement through. 
 After his long walk in the biting wind, the heat of the 
 room was nauseating, and he found it hard to keep his 
 equilibrium. But Stephen's voice had softened on utter- 
 ing his wife's name, and for an instant the speaking of it
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 227 
 
 seemed to make no impression on his listener. Then an 
 oath slithered through his teeth. 
 
 "Patricia Rushmore! Patricia Rushmore is Patricia 
 Pepperday! She's Michael Pepperday's sister! You 
 damned devil, you weren't satisfied in hounding her 
 brother to prison, but you had to ruin her! I tell you, 
 when I saw her in Butte to-night, she was almost dead." 
 
 Like a twelve-inch shell out of a peaceful sky, the ex- 
 planation of the past few weeks crashed through Patrick 
 O'Kelleron's brain. His drivelling accuser faded from his 
 sight. That day in Idaho Falls, when he had told her 
 that he was Patrick O'Kelleron! His accursed con- 
 ceit his stupidity! Blake was still howling at him. 
 He heard curses but gave them no heed. 
 
 He strode to Patricia's chamber and pounded on the 
 door with his fists. He grasped the knob and twisted it 
 and, discovering that the door was locked, rattled it 
 violently. All the time he was entreating her to let him 
 in without delay. He spoke Michael's name with strong 
 persuasion. But nothing save the moaning of the 
 mountain wind came to his ear when he placed it to the 
 keyhole. 
 
 Straightening up, his great muscles knotted for a 
 spring. His shoulder crashed against the door panels with 
 such force that the lock broke completely off and fell to 
 the floor. 
 
 When he stumbled headlong into the room, Edward 
 Blake leaped after him. A violent gale blew past them, 
 bellying the lace curtains back from the open window. 
 The momentum of his speed landed Stephen within a 
 few feet of the bed. He stared at it and brushed his 
 hands across his eyes as if he doubted them. 
 
 She was gone! She was gone! 
 
 "Patricia," he stammered. "She's left me! Patricia 
 my wife " He hesitated, gazing at Blake as if he were
 
 228 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 a stranger. Then, "Get out of my way," he cried. "I'm 
 going to Butte after my wife." 
 
 Somewhat sobered by the electrifying turn of events, 
 Blake stared ominously at the man staggering toward 
 him. 
 
 "Just stand where you are, O'Kelleron," he ejaculated. 
 "You've finished with the Pepperdays, damn you ! Take 
 that!" 
 
 The report of a revolver spat through the room, and 
 Stephen Claypoole went down like an ox hit by a sledge 
 hammer. 
 
 The conquest of his enemy had been so easy that 
 Edward Blake tottered forward on his toes, only to re- 
 coil on to his heels, his head reeling. Then, gripping his 
 revolver, he took several steps backward in the direction 
 of the door. Now, he would go. He could not get away 
 quickly enough. He had come to kill Stephen Claypoole, 
 and he had done it! He had killed Patricia's husband, 
 too. Thank God for that! 
 
 At the threshold he swung around dizzily. This action 
 brought him face to face with another obstacle. There 
 in his path stood Ming, like an ill-omened bird, his eyes 
 glittering dark between narrowed lids. The Asiatic and 
 the American glared at each other for the fractional part 
 of a minute. Then the Chinaman's head shot out, and his 
 mouth spread wide in a snarl. There came to Blake the 
 withering thought that a witness to his crime existed, a 
 threatening witness, who seemed ready to jump upon him 
 like a wiry animal. Convulsive shudders ran through 
 him. In sequence the horrors that follow on the trail 
 of homicide passed through his mind. His intelligence 
 was not so far befogged in drink that he did not 
 remember the relentless qualities of the law. That the 
 State was no respecter of persons spiked him through 
 like a spear. He could hear Ming's feet making a per-
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 229 
 
 ceptible tip-tap on the floor as he lifted first one and then 
 the other. He saw the fellow's thin lips moving but 
 heard no sound. 
 
 "Devil man," finally burst from Ming's throat. 
 
 The sound of the hoarse croak lent strength to Blake's 
 sense of self -protection. 
 
 With a slow, deadly gesture he raised his arm and in 
 quick succession worked the trigger of his gun. 
 
 For an infinitesimal space of time it seemed to him 
 that the heavens had been rent asunder and were vomiting 
 down their burning fury. Of a sudden something leaped 
 upon him, and his wits were gone.
 
 230 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII 
 
 MOST of the citizens of Butte were asleep when the 
 night train snorted out of the Butte station to continue its 
 journey east. Indifferent to what was going on around 
 her, Patricia followed the porter to her compartment, 
 and for a long time after getting into her berth, she stared, 
 wide-eyed, into the darkness. At last she fell into a 
 deep sleep, oblivious to the world and its necessities. 
 
 Not until she reached St. Paul, did she arouse herself 
 enough to consider her serious situation. The days and 
 nights which had elapsed since she had left Montana re- 
 ceived hardly intelligent attention. They seemed but a 
 blank period of time, checkered, here and there, with 
 spaces of consciousness, during which she partook of the 
 food that was offered by kindly train attendants. 
 
 With the returning of bodily strength she was tormented 
 by unanswerable questions which, like sentient voices, 
 repeated themselves many times over. What had 
 Stephen done when he had found her gone? Was he glad 
 to be rid of her? Would he soon forget her? As this 
 last query ran through her mind forebodingly and would 
 not be banished, she wept into her pillow. Long, lonely, 
 withered years stretched out before her like an untrodden 
 road, ambushed with seraphic memories that would only 
 make the blind trail the more difficult to tread. Patrick 
 O'Kelleron had been the crafty builder of an artful 
 barrier between herself and her husband. 
 
 Then, again and again, she ploughed through the dread- 
 ful dream in which she had nearly used her slender- 
 bladed knife in retribution. Oh, that hateful sleep that 
 had betrayed her into the snuggery.
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 231 
 
 The train was speeding through the environs of Chicago, 
 prior to her first change of cars. At that, she had nearly 
 fifteen minutes of the journey to go when at length, 
 coated and hatted, she dropped into a seat to wait. 
 
 The door of her compartment was slightly ajar, and, 
 without asking permission, a blue-capped boy poked his 
 head inside. 
 
 "What paper, lady? What paper?" he squawked. 
 
 Aimlessly she took from her pocketbook a few cents, 
 but not because she wished to scan the news items. It 
 was simpler to buy than refuse to purchase. After the 
 youth had vanished with his wares, the newspaper lay 
 on her lap, unheeded, for some time. 
 
 By chance her restless eyes caught the name, 
 "O'Kelleron," staring up from a black headline, occupying 
 conspicuously a large space at the top of the paper. 
 
 Her lips shaped "O'Kelleron," but not her voice. That 
 detestable word was too familiar, too much a part of her 
 present agony, to be passed over by a mere glance. 
 
 Then she read, "Patrick O'Kelleron, a New York 
 lawyer, killed in the Rocky Mountains!" 
 
 Stiffening rigidly, she read it again as she muttered 
 aloud with rising incredulity, "Killed in the Rocky 
 mountains!" 
 
 So used was she to attesting, "Stephen is Patrick 
 O'Kelleron," that she spoke the phrase almost as if it 
 were a formula. 
 
 "Stephen is my husband, my beloved." Then she 
 added, "If Patrick O'Kelleron is dead" 
 
 The meaning of the words almost struck her dumb. 
 Why, that word was not killed! It could not be! Such 
 a calamity was not to be considered. It had been her 
 hatred for Patrick O'Kelleron that had made her mis- 
 read. She did not look again at the paper, as she told 
 herself that the sentence must have been, "Patrick
 
 232 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 O'Kelleron, a New York lawyer, lived in the Rocky 
 Mountains!" Ah, then his newspaper friends had 
 located him at last, for, of course, it was impossible that 
 such a man could remain incognito forever. This thought 
 loosened her taut muscles a little. Stephen was alive in 
 the "Eagle's Nest." Perhaps, her flight had decided him 
 to assume his rightful name. She dared a glance at the 
 paper. 
 
 "K-I-L-L-E-D," she spelled. 
 
 It was "killed ! " Not not "lived ! " 
 
 Then a massive red head, a countenance beautiful in 
 feature and gracious sympathy, rendered illegible the 
 Chicago Journal. Her eyes closed in a spasm of tremb- 
 ling. And even through her closed lids she saw Stephen's 
 smiling brown gaze and behind his lips his even white 
 teeth. 
 
 "Stephen is Patrick O'Kelleron," she said, and with 
 that she toppled forward, senseless. 
 
 "This ain't Patrick nor Stephen, neither," a voice 
 filtered through to her senses, a few minutes later. "I's 
 George Washington, the porter. Gee! But you was 
 sure some sick, ma'am!" 
 
 It might have been thirty minutes later perhaps more, 
 perhaps less that Patricia stood alone in a room in the 
 Auditorium Annex, nor did she move for a long time after 
 the bellboy had closed the door. 
 
 One trembling hand went to her brow and brushed 
 back the curls, still damp, from her white face. 
 
 "My Stephen, my husband, is alive in Butte," her 
 blue lips spoke aloud. "My husband is not dead." 
 
 Then she sat down on the floor and opened her bag. 
 Taking out the newspaper which had been thrust un- 
 tidily in on top, she spread it out on her lap. 
 
 "Patrick O'Kelleron, a New York lawyer, killed in 
 the Rocky Mountains!" she read.
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 233 
 
 "A strange explosion occurred west of Butte early 
 Friday morning, and Patrick O'Kelleron was killed. A 
 Chinese domestic was also killed in the same accident. 
 It was learned from Mr. O'Kelleron's banker that, under 
 the nom-de-plume of 'Stephen Claypoole,' he had been 
 spending some time in Butte, studying locality with an 
 eye to writing a north-western story." 
 
 The paper crackled in Patricia's fingers. 
 
 "This is a lie," she said with mechanical precision. 
 But even as her lips spoke, her reason shouted that 
 Stephen was dead. In fascinated horror she managed 
 to decipher the rest of the article. 
 
 "The real facts of the tragedy have been cleared up 
 somewhat. A reporter from a Butte newspaper dis- 
 covered that the servant who had charge of Mr. 
 O'Kelleron's home had been in the habit of purchasing 
 dynamite for his mining countrymen. Experts found 
 quantities of the explosive near the spot where the house 
 had stood. 
 
 "The young attorney was unmarried and possessed 
 great wealth. His body was burned beyond recognition, 
 but his enormous stature established his identity beyond 
 doubt. His remains will be shipped home immediately to 
 his mother, Mrs. Alexander Clark of New York City." 
 
 As quiet as if all sense of life had been suspended, 
 Patricia stared dazedly ahead, but her eyes might have 
 been bandaged for aught she saw. To the room she was 
 in and its four walls she was oblivious. She was stunned 
 to blindness, to deafness, her mind groping for the facts 
 that had struck from her the power to think. It might 
 have been seconds or even minutes that she sat with that 
 herald of death in her lap. 
 
 At length four words fell from her lips. 
 
 "My husband is dead ! " 
 
 The sound of her own voice, uttering a sentence so full
 
 234 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 of dire meaning, sent her cringing back. All of her own 
 unspeakable thoughts against Patrick O'Kelleron wrapped 
 her again in blankets of ice. 
 
 The period that followed was not to be compared to any 
 past time in all her life. Other suffering sank into insigni- 
 ficance, contrasted with the exquisite agony of this. 
 
 After hours and hours had passed during which she 
 relived in fiery self-accusation the short weeks since she 
 had been married to Stephen Claypoole, she dragged 
 herself up, only to pace the room back and forth. The 
 night life of Chicago dissolved into intermittent sounds, 
 and still she walked, memories, double-edged, propping 
 her eyes so widely open that it seemed she had no lids at 
 all to cover her aching pupils. 
 
 The winter dawn had lost its youth in a gray day when, 
 completely exhausted, she began to undress. While un- 
 packing her bag, she came across a sealed envelope. 
 She had never seen it before. Turning it over to the in- 
 scription side, she saw written in Stephen's large, bold 
 handwriting: 
 
 "Patrick Claypoole O'Kelleron 
 
 Last Will and Testament 
 
 Marriage Certificate." 
 
 A nausea came with the knowledge that Stephen had 
 secreted his will among her possessions and that, when he 
 had made it, he was thinking of the time after his death. 
 She dropped the envelope as if it had burned her fingers. 
 Nothing material mattered now! 
 
 For almost two weeks she stayed alone, far above the 
 busy streets, seemingly dead to any initiative, eating 
 irregularly, and sleeping only when she could not keep 
 awake. 
 
 The sharp sense of utter desolation gradually subsided 
 into a kind of dull apathy. Spasmodically she endeav-
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 235 
 
 ored to stir the dying embers of hate and find satisfaction 
 in the thought that, at least, Patrick O'Kelleron had paid 
 his debt to the Pater, but every such effort succeeded 
 merely in exposing more mercilessly how cruel had been 
 her conduct in Montana. 
 
 Not in self-justification, did she reiterate: 
 
 "I was sick crazy out there at the 'Eagle's Nest/ 
 and I blamed it on the Pater, my beautiful father, who 
 only wished happiness to every one in the world. Oh, I 
 never once tried to think of anything but how I hated 
 Patrick! But in my heart I didn't I didn't!" 
 
 The keen edge of the pain she endured cut away the 
 husk of selfishness. Martin Brewer's words came to her, 
 "Don't do it, sweet, don't do it! Hating another fellow 
 only brings bad to yourself." 
 
 By degrees, so minute she was hardly aware any change 
 was taking place, sorrow performed its sweet and salu- 
 tary office by cleansing her heart of her hatred of Patrick 
 O'Kelleron. Little by little she dared to crawl out of the 
 purgatory which she judged herself only fit to inhabit. 
 
 Ultimately she realized that love had conquered her 
 demoniacal spirit. Tears of thanksgiving wiped away that 
 tenacious thought that Patrick O'Kelleron had any debt 
 to pay the dead Pater. That triad of men, built into her 
 imagination through her own wicked desires, split asunder 
 and left Patrick a compelling, undying reality in her mind, 
 as he had been in Blackberry Lane, as he had been in 
 Butte before their marriage. It was in that moment that 
 the two entities that had once possessed her, the one for 
 good, the other for evil, were transformed into her giant, 
 idolized husband, complete from his red hair to the soles 
 of his feet. 
 
 And thus her destroying hatred fell from her like a 
 worm-eaten garment. 
 
 Not long after Michael came into her mind as
 
 236 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 a vital reality, and blind Yum-yum and Barney took their 
 places in her thoughts. She had to live for the home 
 folks. The youth in her spoke with insistence. She must 
 live! Stephen, her husband, her beloved, was gone! She 
 would have bartered her eternal salvation to bring him 
 back if it had been possible; but he was dead. 
 
 So closed that chapter of Patricia's life; and she buried 
 its hallowed and unhallowed pages deep within her soul.
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 237 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII 
 
 "BRIDGEPORT, CONN., Sunday. 
 
 "Dear Mr. Brewer" began a letter which Martin 
 opened one morning. 
 
 "My small son is now two weeks old, and for me to say 
 that he is beautiful sounds conceited, I know. But 
 everybody who has seen him says he is very remarkable 
 for a child so young. Mother loves him dearly, but I'm 
 sure that isn't the reason she thinks he is so smart. I 
 wish you could see her rocking him now. She looks like 
 an angel. She is one, too. You remember what you said 
 about mothers? I always think of it when she's tending 
 baby. 
 
 "This letter has a threefold mission, dear Mr. Brewer. 
 First, to thank you again for what you did for me; next, 
 to ask you if you know where Mr. Blake is. He never 
 writes me, although the money comes regularly from his 
 banker, but I'd like him to know about the baby. If 
 you see him, please tell him. 
 
 "I thought at first I would call my little boy, 'Edward,' 
 but I've changed my mind. May I name him after you? 
 
 "Cordially and gratefully yours, 
 
 "FLOSSIE BAKER BLAKE. 
 
 "P. S. I meant to tell you that the. baby's gums are 
 quite swollen. Mother says he might be getting a tooth. 
 I wouldn't consider it possible, if he weren't so unusual 
 in every way. I think 'Martin Brewer Blake' a lovely 
 name for him, don't you? 
 
 "FLOSSIE."
 
 238 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 Martin's spirits were uplifted for a moment by a hearty 
 laugh at this effusion. Flossie was a typical mother, 
 bless her heart. How often he had heard the same old 
 story, the wonders of a new-born babe. Well, he loved 
 to hear it; if he did not, there was something wrong with 
 the mother. 
 
 After assuring himself that he was effectually rid of 
 William Foster, Martin had resumed his writing with 
 his usual facility. Although he had received several 
 humble, apologetic letters from that young man, each one 
 begging for another chance, he gave them no heed what- 
 ever, save to stow them away in his safe. 
 
 Patrick O'Kelleron's premature death had shocked him, 
 and he had been sorely touched at the young lawyer's 
 funeral by Nancy's pitiful grief. In personal sorrow for 
 his dead friend he had come away from the O'Kelleron 
 vault with a keen sense of the frailty of life. 
 
 Always active, his anxiety about Benny had lately 
 become acute. Doctor Percy Blair had decided that the 
 boy was strong enough to undergo an operation, but Benny 
 stubbornly refused to hear of it while Patricia was absent 
 from New York. 
 
 A deeper sadness fell across Martin's countenance. 
 
 In his mail that morning he had received a note from 
 Patricia, dated at Chicago. She was coming back to the 
 city, but she had not stated the day of her arrival. For 
 some time he sat thinking. Once the prospect of seeing 
 her would have thrilled him with delight, but now he 
 turned to the memory of Adelina Pepperday with a long- 
 ing closely akin to pain. He had heard about her fre- 
 quently from Benny who often visited at Balmville. So 
 fearful had he been of himself, however, that he had not 
 ventured into her presence. His harrowed soul had 
 prophesied that, if he did, one of two things would happen. 
 Either he would burst out that Michael was innocent, or he
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 239 
 
 would instantly ask her to marry him, and it was farthest 
 from his sense of decency to ask a woman to share a name 
 which in the fall would in all probability be stained with 
 crime. 
 
 Then with the promptitude that was always his upon 
 making a decision, he put on his hat and coat and went 
 out. At a nearby telegraph office he wrote and sent this 
 message to Flossie Blake : 
 
 "Congratulations on the boy! God love him! God 
 bless him! God save him! Eddie is out of town, and 
 no one in his office knows his whereabouts, but I left your 
 message with his secretary. Name the youngster, 'Patrick 
 O'Kelleron Blake.' Here's hoping he will grow up to 
 be as good a man as he is named after. Then you 
 will have a great reason to be a happy mother. 
 
 "MARTIN BREWER." 
 
 Blue devils, bluer and more devilish than ordinary, 
 were in possession of Benny Brewer upon his father's 
 arrival at the studio. He was nursing his old grievance. 
 If he could not have Patricia Pepperday, he refused to 
 be happy himself, or let any one be happy around him. 
 
 "Hello, Ben! How are you, old man?" was Martin's 
 greeting, as he threw aside his hat and sat down. 
 
 "Hello, Fan," squawked George from his perch on the 
 boy's shoulder. "Is breakfast ready, Ma?" 
 
 "I feel rotten," muttered Benny, shoving the parrot 
 away impatiently. "I hate being by myself all the time. 
 Fancy Cavendish promised she'd be here early, and she 
 hasn't even telephoned. I'd rather have her than be 
 alone. But nobody keeps a promise to me, somehow." 
 
 "Aw, Ben," shrieked the parrot. "George's a damned 
 pretty boy." Then he settled on the arm of Martin's 
 chair and went to sleep.
 
 240 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 Martin disregarded his son's complaint. His sym- 
 pathies had run deeper of late for his afflicted child, and 
 he was not inclined to chide him for his pessimism. 
 
 "I had a letter from Paddy Pepperday this morning, 
 Ben," he announced after a short silence. "I ran up to 
 tell you about it." 
 
 "Let me see it," interjected Benny. "I haven't had 
 a word from her in weeks. I was thinking of her when 
 you came in." 
 
 After a fruitless search in his pockets, Martin shook 
 his head. 
 
 "I must have left it in the office," he explained, "but 
 I can tell you what's in it. She's coming to New York ! 
 I imagine, very soon." 
 
 "Glory!" cried Benny. 'Now, I'm glad you came up, 
 dad, and honestly I don't mean to be so grouchy and 
 horrid all the time." He bent forward eagerly. "What 
 did Lady Pat say?" 
 
 To be the bearer of unpleasant news to any one was 
 especially repugnant to Martin; much more difficult it 
 was, though, when that person happened to be his son. 
 
 "You mustn't be shocked at what I'm going to tell you," 
 he began presently. "But the fact is, that Patricia mar- 
 ried Patrick O'Kelleron out west somewhere." 
 
 Doubt was in Benny's eyes, and one set of fingers 
 went to his brow and traveled across it. 
 
 "I don't believe it," he said deliberately. "Why, she 
 detested O'Kelleron so she couldn't stand to hear his 
 name. One day while I was in Balmville when she was 
 getting well, I spoke of him, and she nearly had a fit. 
 She said he ought to be electrocuted. I tell you she 
 downright hated him." 
 
 Succeeded a short pause. Then Brewer agreed: 
 
 "I know she did, poor girl! She insisted, in spite of 
 everything I could say, that Pat was unjust at Michael's
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 241 
 
 trial, and that he was personally responsible for her 
 father's death." 
 
 Benny made an impatient gesture with his hand. 
 
 "Never mind that," he protested, "what else was in 
 her letter?" 
 
 "Nothing much!" 
 
 A painful silence fell. 
 
 "But O'Kelleron's dead, even if she did marry him," 
 Benny observed finally in a low voice. "He is dead, 
 isn't he? You're sure of that?" 
 
 "Yes, certainly! And I don't know the particulars 
 of her marriage, only the bare fact. Her letter was rather 
 incoherent, and I gathered she has been ill. However, 
 we'll soon find out, I suppose." 
 
 He watched his son as he talked. He would have given 
 half his fortune to know what was going on behind those 
 glowing eyes. 
 
 "She's a widow then," Benny ejaculated, his cheeks 
 flaming. "It seems strange, dad, to think, of Paddy 
 being anybody's widow but mine. Somehow, I don't 
 believe it." 
 
 Martin's heart yearned to comfort him. Recently he 
 had felt as if Benny had barricaded himself behind an 
 impenetrable hedge. To-day he had come to root it up 
 if possible. He was willing to do anything to obtain the 
 boy's confidence. He knew, without being told, that 
 much of his broken spirit came from grieving over 
 Patricia. He had expected a tirade of abuse and tears 
 at his remarkable announcement, but nothing of the kind 
 came! Benny was sitting in quiet cogitation, looking at 
 the floor. After a time, he raised his head. 
 
 "Lots of fellows marry widows, dad," he exclaimed. 
 "And you said I could have her. You did say so, and 
 you can't break your promise to me. You wouldn't! 
 You never do! I don't care if she has been married; I
 
 242 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 want her. If you'll do what you said, then I'll let 
 Doctor Blair come. You've got to get her to like me! 
 Oh, you've got to!" 
 
 He sent forth the words much as if he were suing for 
 something that money could buy. 
 
 This demand Martin had foreseen, but he had not the 
 slightest idea how to meet it. It was true he had made 
 that promise in the heat of excitement. Perhaps, he had 
 counted more on his influence over Patricia than he had 
 had any right to do. Yet, as Benny had said, she was a 
 widow now. She had had her fling, so to speak, and she 
 had consistently assured him that she liked Benny that 
 she pitied him. "Pity is akin to love!" He quoted the 
 the old adage to himself and wondered whether Patricia 
 would not grow to be fond of his son if she stood by him 
 in his climb to health. 
 
 However, he would have more heart to hope if he were 
 sure of one thing: Had Benny killed Fatty Funny 
 Breeches? Was the soul that conceived beautiful har- 
 monies stained with a fellow mortal's death? He had to 
 know! 
 
 "Ask him! Ask him! Make him tell you!" kept up 
 a mental fire against his paternal faith. 
 
 As of yore he cast aside the impulse. 
 
 "But it's this way, kid! We don't know but Patricia 
 was all-fired fond of Patrick, and she may be badly 
 broken up over his death, which would be but natural. 
 Her letter plainly stated that no one knew she had 
 married him, not even Patrick's mother. I imagine that's 
 a fact, too, because there wasn't a hint published about 
 it. Before I can say much to you or do anything, I must 
 wait until she gets here. You can see that, Ben! Can't 
 you?" 
 
 "Yes, of course, I can," came in agreement. "But I've 
 waited so long already."
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 243 
 
 "Well, if you'll take my advice, child," Martin in- 
 sisted almost sternly, "you'll wait still longer. Your 
 grandmother used to say, 'Roses grow in the mouth of 
 patience!' and it's the Lord's truth! If I were you, I 
 wouldn't be wigging her about marriage until until 
 Doctor Blair" 
 
 "I won't be operated on till Lady Pat's my wife," inter- 
 rupted Benny. "I'm afraid I wouldn't get well." A 
 shudder ran over him. "Paddy will teach me her religion. 
 She's sweet and doesn't lecture a fellow. While she 
 didn't promise to marry me, she will, I feel sure if you 
 keep at her about it." 
 
 Leaning over, Brewer studied the frowning young face. 
 
 "Her letter did say that one of her future tasks would 
 be to dig up new evidence to free her brother, Michael." 
 He spoke every word with distinctness. "She'll undoubt- 
 edly ask me to help her. Is is there any reason, Ben, 
 why I shouldn't?" 
 
 There! To answer that question, even if he persisted 
 in his refusal to tell what happened at Cavendish's that 
 night, Benny would have to let the cat out of the bag. 
 Either Michael's conviction protected him, or it did not. 
 It seemed to Martin as if he were hanging between life 
 and death during that nettling silence. If his heart 
 pumped any faster, the blood would burst through his 
 pulses. 
 
 But self-centered Benny was not thinking of Michael 
 Pepperday. He had but one object in view, and to that 
 he clung with tenacity. He wanted Michael's sister for 
 his wife, and he intended hectoring his father until his 
 desire was granted. 
 
 "I'd rather you'd make her marry me," he replied, 
 looking down at his twisting fingers. "She'll be glad 
 when she sees what I've done for Fancy. The kid weighs 
 pounds more than she did when Paddy went away, and
 
 244 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 I've taught her a lot of things. I don't see what you can 
 do for Mike, save to get a pardon, maybe. Sometimes 
 it seems you're more interested in everybody else than you 
 are in me." 
 
 Then swiftly he raised his dark eyes. 
 
 "Get Paddy to marry me before you start anything. It 
 would make me horribly nervous with a mess of investi- 
 gation going on. Wait till I'm well. Will you do that, 
 dad?" 
 
 In his anxiety the father read into his son's words a 
 meaning so dire that he jumped to the point of accusing 
 him then and there of Arthur Brown's murder. But 
 Benny suddenly sank into a helpless, sobbing heap, 
 and the burning words died in Brewer's throat. He 
 would have to wait a while longer. He had nothing to 
 go on. Perhaps, when Benny was well! Good God, it 
 had been nothing but a continuous "Perhaps" for months. 
 
 "Listen to me, son," he urged, putting his arms around 
 the boy and lifting him up, "and remember what 
 I'm going to tell you. Women are queer in their likes and 
 dislikes; men, too, for that matter. You've got to buck 
 up and give some cheer to Lady Pat when she gets home. 
 It'll help you if you keep in mind that I can't take her by 
 the scruff of the neck and make her marry you. You 
 must realize that things aren't done that way nowadays; 
 even if we wanted to, which we don't. But I say this 
 much now! You shall see her as often as I can manage it, 
 and, for heaven's sake, be tender and kind. Don't cry 
 don't fuss at her! If you want to rag any one, rag me. 
 Recollect always that you can catch more flies with 
 molasses than you can with vinegar."
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 245 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV 
 
 ON its scheduled minute the Twentieth Century, 
 Limited, glided into the Grand Central Station with 
 Patricia among its passengers. As she walked through 
 the big throng alone, a dreary weight of nostalgia op- 
 pressed her spirits. Several times she ran against strangers 
 and had to pause to wipe away welling tears. So many 
 people and not a single one interested in her! 
 
 Once she had pictured herself coming into this place, 
 but clinging to Stephen's arm in happy reliance on his 
 strength. How could she do anything without him? It 
 seemed that every turn she took she must come upon 
 him and, oh, to see his face in life as she often saw it in 
 her dreams! 
 
 "Stephen is dead," her reason told her throbbing heart, 
 "and you're still alive, and there's lots of work for you 
 to do yet." 
 
 At the cab stand she gave the address of a small hotel 
 on Forty-fourth Street. Then she climbed into the taxi 
 and sank back, completely fagged. 
 
 She could count on her fingers the number of blocks 
 that lay between her and Barney. He was at Caven- 
 dish's and by this time had received her telegram. She 
 caught her breath and in a long sigh expelled it. Before 
 she slept that night, she would have seen him and Mrs. 
 Clark, too. 
 
 One of the first things she did, after settling herself in 
 her room, was to search the telephone book for Alex- 
 ander Clark's address. 
 
 "Mr. and Mrs. Clark are at O'Kelleron Island until 
 next fall," the caretaker told her over the wire.
 
 246 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 That meant she would be compelled to travel to Port- 
 chester that day. She remembered that Stephen had 
 mentioned his summer home on the sound, but she could 
 recall very little of his description. 
 
 According to the calendar, it was late in February, 
 and the day was sour and cold, when she alighted from 
 the train at Portchester, New York. A clammy mist, 
 full of drizzle, enveloped everything in the wet obscurity 
 of the late afternoon. 
 
 Now, that she was face to face with the meeting to 
 which she had looked forward since she had left the windy 
 city on the shores of Lake Michigan, she was prompted 
 to return to New York without seeing Stephen's mother. 
 A letter might be as effectual as a personal interview. 
 To overcome this temptation, she bolted down a flight of 
 steps to a line of waiting taxis. 
 
 During the drive towards the sound, she soothed her 
 jumping nerves by affirming that, however Mrs. Clark 
 received her, she was doing the one thing of which she 
 knew Patrick O'Kelleron would approve." 
 
 "But I hope she will be kind," she told herself, as 
 the taxi pulled up at the mainland end of a footbridge. 
 
 The tide was rising, and the slowly incoming water 
 made little puddles among the piles that supported the 
 bridge above the black mud of the tide flats. Three 
 islands lay side by side, with small bridges from each to 
 the longer one that led to the shore. 
 
 "Which is O'Kelleron Island?" she asked the driver. 
 
 "That one there, Miss!" The man pointed sound- 
 ward with a stubby forefinger. "Shall I wait?" 
 
 "I think you'd better," she responded. "I can't tell 
 now how long I'll be gone." 
 
 With bitter tears scalding her lids, she stood looking 
 at Stephen's home. She could see the house behind the 
 belt of trees, its roof reared far above the highest
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 247 
 
 branches. The chimneys, too, loomed out against the 
 gray sky like squares of red calico. Retaining walls of 
 solid masonry protected the island from the waves and 
 presented a battlemented face to the outside world. 
 
 She moved forward and had almost set her foot upon 
 the bridge when she noted a man crossing it in her direc- 
 tion. Suddenly she recognized in the tall, blond person, 
 the man who had called several times for Millicent Foster. 
 Clark! Stephen's stepfather! Never by the greatest 
 stretch of imagination, had she connected Milly's admirer 
 with Patrick O'Kelleron. Undecided, she lingered a 
 moment, then she stepped back and waited among the 
 several people loitering about the place until Mr. Clark 
 had passed on to a large touring car. 
 
 "Drive into New York as quickly as possible to the 
 Hotel Astor!" Patricia heard him say to the chauffeur. 
 Then he climbed into the automobile, and with its 
 klaxon blaring, it mounted the hill and was gone. 
 
 On reaching the island, Patricia walked along the broad 
 cement pavement to the house. It was a formidable place 
 for a timid girl to enter on an errand like hers, and once 
 more she was disposed to run away as fast as ever her legs 
 could carry her. However, she resisted the inclination 
 and rang the bell. The length of time she waited on the 
 broad piazza she did not particularly notice. The steady 
 tick-tock of the falling water drops only deepened her 
 melancholy. 
 
 Through the trees, bared by the winter winds, she saw 
 the vast expanse of Long Island Sound. It was an im- 
 pressively dismal scene. The clouds had lifted somewhat, 
 and a rising breeze was dissipating the mists. Only here 
 and there straggling streamers of fog clung to the 
 sheltered nooks and coves. 
 
 After a while a vague suspicion that Mrs. Clark was 
 not at home dawned upon her. Had she made her
 
 248 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 journey to Portchester for nothing? Again she rang the 
 bell and heard it echo back plainly from a distant part 
 of the house. She was about to turn away reluctantly 
 when a voice above her cried out distinctly: 
 
 "Paddy, oh, Paddy!" 
 
 Some one had called her name twice! She flung up 
 her head and stared at the shuttered windows. Ague 
 suddenly seized her. Was she again to be tormented with 
 hallucinations as she had been in Montana? 
 
 Then, "Oh, Paddy, Paddy! " she heard again. 
 
 Her fingers clutched at the knob and twisted it, but the 
 door refused to yield. The house was locked! She 
 paused to listen! 
 
 Again her name reached her as she sprang to a window. 
 But, as she examined one after another she was con- 
 fronted with the fact that they, too, were securely 
 fastened. At first she was impelled to break one of the 
 glistening panes. Instead she ran around the house, where 
 the whole place presented as uninhabited an appearance as 
 had the front. 
 
 In response to her frantic jabs on the push button at 
 the tradesmen's entrance, the electric bell sent back to her 
 only empty jangles. Then she pounded on the door loud 
 enough to raise the dead. It was only when she noticed 
 that one of the windows was open behind its screen that 
 she decided all in a minute to force admittance that way, 
 without a thought of what any one might think if she 
 were caught scrambling head-first into a strange house. 
 
 With a sharp stone she broke the wire netting, and in 
 another instant was standing in the center of an orderly 
 kitchen. 
 
 The third door she opened led to the second floor, and 
 she tiptoed up the stairs. At the top of the flight she 
 paused, all ears. Then she stole along a wide hall, with 
 closed doors on its right and left.
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 249 
 
 To a small degree she was losing the panic that had 
 accompanied her through the kitchen window. She was 
 near the front staircase when a loud cry issued as if from 
 nowhere, followed by a muffled groan and then silence. 
 
 Patricia remained stock still, her hand on her pounding 
 heart, until her name, "Paddy, Paddy," repeated in loud 
 demand, sent her on a headlong race to a room that over- 
 looked the garden. 
 
 As if it were a substantial thing, a wall of blackness 
 met her as she pushed open the door. Only by closing 
 the shutters and pulling down the blinds, only by the 
 exclusion of every slightest suggestion of light, could there 
 have been obtained such an impenetrable obscurity. 
 
 Breathlessly she dove into it, an almost imperceptible 
 shadow crossing the threshold from the dusk-illuminated 
 hall. Some strangely mysterious noise in the corner 
 halted her abruptly. 
 
 Then, "Paddy darling!" 
 
 To Patricia's overstrained nerves, the cracked, childish 
 treble appeared supernatural, spectral, like two words 
 from a disembodied voice, a voice divorced from human 
 agency. 
 
 "Paddy Paddy darling!" came in agonized repetition. 
 
 Swallowing desperately, Patricia succeeded in dislodg- 
 ing the lump in her throat. 
 
 "What?" she whispered, and again more tensely, 
 "What?" 
 
 "My God, what's happened to me?" wafted forth to the 
 dumfounded girl. "You can't be here, Paddy! You 
 can't! It isn't possible! He said I was loony, and I 
 am. Paddy, Paddy, are you really here?" 
 
 For a moment Patricia dared not go forward, neither 
 did she have the courage to depart. 
 
 "Yes, I'm here," she answered in a weak voice. 
 
 "Ah, then I'm glad, Pat," was the relieved response.
 
 250 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 "It's very dark and cold, isn't it, Paddy? He tied me 
 in bed, and he won't let me have any light or fire. Oh, 
 what a wicked man he is! And I'm afraid, so afraid of 
 him! Are you afraid, too, darling?" 
 
 Sympathy rose from among the tumultuous feelings in 
 Patricia's breast toward that whine in the dark. 
 
 "No, I'm not afraid," she uttered. 
 
 "That makes your mommy mommy happy to hear 
 you say that, Paddy!" The speaker faltered between 
 the words with hysterical sobs. "Alex sent Bridget and 
 all the rest of the servants away, and there's a very bad 
 woman in the kitchen. They have both gone now, but 
 shut the door; so if they come back, they won't hear what 
 I tell you. Come a little nearer, boy baby." 
 
 Stephen's mother! Mrs. Clark! Patricia's legs sud- 
 denly gave way beneath her, and she sank down in a 
 crumpled heap. She could not control her panting breath, 
 but the asthmatic coughs of her companion made it 
 almost inaudible. 
 
 Then she crawled to the door and closed it. On her 
 hands and knees she made her way to the bedside. A 
 shutter banged somewhere in the house, and her hands 
 clapped to her mouth to suppress a scream. 
 
 "I'm so tired, Patrick," sighed Mrs. Clark. "Alexander 
 quite sent me wild, telling me how you suffered. He said 
 you'd been so disfigured I couldn't even see your dear 
 face. Is it nice and warm in Heaven, dear? And can't 
 you take your poor old mother back with you? Are you 
 there, Paddy?" 
 
 "Yes, I'm here," murmured Patricia between her 
 fingers. 
 
 Of course, she was there, but Alexander Clark stood 
 between her and the assistance she desired beyond ex- 
 pression to render Patrick's mother. How she wished 
 she had fetched with her Barney or Martin Brewer!
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 251 
 
 Then the memory of her days in Chicago sent her to 
 praying. In "The Streams Make Glad," she had recited 
 for the shepherd boy's reassurance: 
 
 "If I make my bed in hell, behold, Thou art there. 
 Even there shall Thy hand lead me, and Thy right hand 
 shall hold me. For Thou wilt not leave my soul in hell, 
 neither wilt Thou suffer Thine holy one to see corruption." 
 
 And now the Psalmist's declaration clarified her senses. 
 Then she decided that the mother of her dead was a holy 
 one of the Most High, and God was right there. He was 
 everpresent, always available; He was ever willing to 
 help. And out of those inmost thoughts there came 
 to her, all in the fraction of a second, a faith so big, so 
 splendid, that she would be able to save Patrick's mother, 
 that she stood up suddenly. There was not a moment 
 to waste. 
 
 "My dear," she said softly. "Poor little mother, IVe 
 come to help you!" 
 
 Mrs. Clark did not catch the significance of the words. 
 She was still under the feverish impression that her son 
 was in the room. 
 
 "It seems so good to have you again, Patsy," she said. 
 "You'll stay with me always, sonny. Oh, you will, won't 
 you?" 
 
 "But you mustn't cry," Patricia urged. "You'll try to 
 be brave and help me?" 
 
 It took a few seconds for the words to sink into the 
 woman's consciousness. 
 
 "Yes, Pat, yes, I will," she quivered. "Can I go 
 away from Alexander? To-night, maybe, to-night, 
 Patrick? God help me! God in heaven make Alex be 
 kind, only a little kind, to me for for once." 
 
 Feeling her way through {he darkness, Patricia found 
 the door and opened it. Then she flooded the room with 
 light by a quick snap of the electric switch. Finally she
 
 252 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 walked to the bed. Mrs. Clark raised her head, but, when 
 she noticed the girl staring at her, she dropped it again 
 to the pillow. 
 
 "Who are you?" she gasped. 
 
 "I'm Patrick's wife, dear," stammered Patricia, weaken- 
 ing at her task, "and he he told told me to come and 
 and take care of you." 
 
 "Then loosen the ropes Alex tied around me, please," 
 Mrs. Clark begged convulsively. "They hurt me so!" 
 
 To accomplish this, Patricia had to crawl under the 
 bed, and, when she was again on her feet, Mrs. Clark was 
 sitting up very straight. 
 
 "Where's my son?" she asked. "He was here a little 
 while ago. He spoke to me. Where is he? Where is 
 he?" 
 
 "He he he had to go," Patricia stumbled, at her 
 wits' end for the right words to speak. "But he he told 
 me to tell you not to be afraid any more, that I was to be 
 your girl, and you're to be my my mother." And then 
 did Patricia give silent thanks for the last will and testa- 
 ment of Patrick O'Kelleron. 
 
 "Alex won't permit it, child," mourned Nancy. "It 
 was only to-day that he struck me because I cried for my 
 boy. He made me leave the town house and come out 
 here, and it's terribly cold. I want to go away now 
 this minute before he comes back." 
 
 "But he shan't hurt you any more," insisted Patricia 
 gently. "I won't let him." 
 
 As if she did not believe it, Mrs. Clark droned on: 
 
 "Yes, he will! Yes, he will! He always does! 
 He says he'll have all the money now. I'll be glad when 
 it's gone. He says I'm crazy, but, of course, I'm not! 
 But you're much too small to stand in Alexander's way." 
 She hesitated, and a long cough racked her frame. 
 
 "My Paddy's wife," she resumed in a rambling voice.
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 253 
 
 "That's queer very queer, indeed! Patrick was a good 
 boy to me! Where'd he go? Is he coming back soon?" 
 She caught hold of one of Patricia's hands, fondled it, 
 then pressed it with her hot lips. "Oh, little girl, don't 
 go away and leave me. Please don't! Alexander is 
 going to put me in an asylum. I know he will. He 
 threatened to this morning when when I asked to see 
 Frank Shevlin." 
 
 Frank Shevlin! He was Stephen's friend! Patricia 
 had seen his name in her husband's will. 
 
 "Where is Mr. Shevlin?" she cried. "Tell me quickly! 
 No, you mustn't shake so, dear one. I promise Mr. 
 Clark shan't touch you again. Now, stop crying, and tell 
 me where Mr. Shevlin is. Does he live in Portchester? 
 
 "Yes! But Alex won't let him come in the house." 
 
 "Mr. Alex can't help himself," returned Patricia as she 
 darted away.
 
 254 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV 
 
 "NEW YORK'S all right to do business in a few hours 
 a day, but it's no place to live." Thus Frank Shevlin ex- 
 plained why he practiced law in the city but lived on 
 Long Island Sound in the outskirts of Portchester. 
 
 This stormy evening more than a week after Patrick 
 O'Kelleron had been laid beside his father, Frank was 
 resting in his easy chair in his den. His wife, Caroline, 
 had gone upstairs early, and her husband had been spend- 
 ing a half-hour in meditation. 
 
 Young O'Kelleron had studied law in his office. More- 
 over, Frank had known the lad from the day of his birth, 
 had known his father before him and frowned on his 
 mother's second marriage to Alexander Clark. But for 
 that rash act he had forgiven the poor woman long ago, 
 since he was quite sure she had not been happy. Now die 
 lawyer's cogitation was not so much about his dead friend 
 as about Mrs. Clark on O'Kelleron Island. 
 
 Of late, since Patrick had gone to Butte, and especially 
 since his death, dark tales from servants visiting servants 
 had drifted to Shevlin about the Clark household; and, 
 since the family had moved to the island, he had made 
 two trips across the piled bridge to verify them. But 
 Alexander had been there to thwart him. He had been 
 unable to hold any conversation with Nancy, nor had he 
 seen her. How sleek, how almost uncanny, Alexander 
 was! He had explained that he had brought his wife to 
 the country early because she was so prostrated by her 
 son's unfortunate death, and as yet she was unable to see 
 any one.
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 255 
 
 And now Alexander had demanded administration 
 papers in the name of Nancy Clark. Frank did not like 
 the sound of it, but it really was not any of his business, 
 as Caroline had reiterated often enough. 
 
 Sighing, he arose to join his good wife, when the 
 telephone broke sharply the silence of the house. The 
 two servants were out for the evening, so it devolved on 
 the master to answer the summons himself. 
 
 "Hello," he called. "Frank Shevlin's residence!" 
 
 A low, strained voice came to his ear through the tube. 
 
 "Yes, yes, Mr. Shevlin! Come over to O'Kelleron 
 Island right away. Mrs. Clark needs you!" 
 
 The receiver clicked at the other end before he had 
 time to ask a single question. But, being a man of action, 
 he telephoned for a conveyance, ran upstairs to acquaint 
 his wife with his intentions, and he was lighting a cigar 
 on the porch when the taxi drew up at the curb. 
 
 Less than half an hour later, Patricia opened the door 
 of Patrick O'Kelleron's house on O'Kelleron Island the 
 instant Frank Shevlin set his foot on the porch. 
 
 "I'm Mr. Shevlin," he observed gravely. "Did you 
 telephone me?" 
 
 She nodded assent, and he noticed her childish attempt 
 to stay the trembling of her lips. 
 
 "I'm so glad you're here," she said in a stifled voice. 
 "Mr. Shevlin, are you are you afraid of Alexander 
 Clark?" 
 
 She was so breathlessly in earnest, with her sand-gray 
 eyes centered unswervingly upon him, that Shevlin did not 
 answer until he had entered and closed the door. Then 
 he jerked off his hat and overcoat. 
 
 "I'm damned well not afraid of the cad, Miss," he 
 rapped out, turning around upon her. "Why?" 
 
 A smile of relief lighted up her white face, and the blood 
 came into her cheeks in waves. The coming of Stephen's
 
 256 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 strong friend had put an end to the reign of Alexander's 
 cruelty. 
 
 "Come in here for a few minutes," she said. "There's 
 fire enough to warm you up a bit. The house is like a 
 barn." 
 
 Without replying, Shevlin followed her into a large 
 room running parallel with the porch, and both of them 
 took chairs in silence. 
 
 "I was sorry to call you out in the rain," she excused 
 presently, "but " 
 
 "Never mind that," he interrupted. "How about Mrs. 
 Clark?" 
 
 A wistfulness became visible about her mouth. It gave 
 her a little-girl-like air that set astir Frank Shevlin's 
 interest. 
 
 "Where's Alexander Clark?" he asked. "Is he up- 
 stairs with Nancy? Did he tell you to call me?" 
 
 "No, he's in New York," she told him, "but Patrick's 
 mother " 
 
 "Where is she?" he asked. 
 
 "Asleep now! I'm here, alone with her!" 
 
 "What's the matter with her, and what are you doing 
 here?" He rose with an abruptness that seemed in ac- 
 cord with his swift questions. "I can't understand what 
 it's all about. You might start in and give me an inkling 
 of what's happened. First who are you?" 
 
 His voice was peremptory and a trifle stern. 
 
 "Who are you?" he queried again, "and how did you 
 get in here?" 
 
 Her lids flickered a little. Still she regarded him 
 for a space before she spoke. 
 
 "I'm I'm Mrs. Patrick O'Kelleron!" she answered 
 slowly and steadily, "and I climbed in through the 
 kitchen window." 
 
 As accustomed as Shevlin was to present an undis-
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 257 
 
 turbed front to the unexpected, he evidenced his astonish- 
 ment by bending forward and looking keenly at her. 
 
 "Ye gods, you don't say so!" he exclaimed. "Did you 
 tell Nancy?" 
 
 Then as the picture her words suggested to his mind 
 developed in detail and clearness, he took a couple of 
 strides up and down the room. She was an amazing 
 bunch of girlhood, she who claimed to be the wife of 
 Patrick O'Kelleron. But was she? He stopped directly 
 in front of her. 
 
 "Look here, Miss, whatever your name is," he broke 
 forth. "You know very well you can't come along and 
 break into a house without giving a faithful account of 
 yourself. You've made a big statement, and, if it's false, 
 you'll get into difficulty. Where are your proofs that 
 you have a right here?" 
 
 As she began busying herself with the contents of an 
 inside pocket of her jacket, he ceased speaking, and, while 
 he watched her, he hoped to Heaven that she really did 
 have sufficient evidence to make good her claim. 
 
 Presently she fetched forth a paper and handed it to 
 him. 
 
 "There," she said in a small, weak voice, "that's my 
 marriage certificate." 
 
 Strangely moved, Shevlin accepted it, switched on the 
 table light and sat down. He adjusted his glasses, more 
 to gain a moment for self -preparation than from any 
 optical necessity, and then opened the stiff parchment and 
 read it through to the end. 
 
 "That's certainly Pat's signature," he admitted, look- 
 ing up. 
 
 "Yes, it is! And this," she explained, extending 
 another folded paper, "this is his will. I wish you to 
 read it, Mr. Shevlin." 
 
 A wife! A will! The whole Clark situation changed
 
 258 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERD AY 
 
 in a trice! This girl, still a child, who had evidently 
 married Patrick, had his will! It would, probably, alter 
 the lives of every one on the island; his own future might 
 be affected for aught he knew. 
 
 Try, as he would, he could not conceal his emotion. It 
 was so like impulsive Patrick, this wife business. How- 
 ever, he took the document and without speaking or giving 
 the silent girl a glance, he picked up the hand-written 
 sheet and read it through once and then again. His own 
 name was mentioned in it. The words, "My dear friend, 
 Frank Shevlin," touched him deeply. Patrick stated 
 plainly that he and that chit there, leaning her face 
 wearily on her hand, were to be the executors of his 
 enormous estates in the Sound country and in New York. 
 
 "I don't know what to say," he said unsteadily. 
 
 Patricia sighed. 
 
 "I came here to-day to give the will to Patrick's 
 mother," she continued in an effort to make plain her 
 position. "I didn't want any of his money not any oj 
 it! But now, I'm I'm not going to. I I I want 
 you " 
 
 "To protect your interests, I suppose," suggested the 
 lawyer crisply. "You needn't worry about that part of 
 it. Mrs. Clark is honest, and she would have been ap- 
 pointed to take charge of her son's affairs day after to- 
 morrow, if you hadn't appeared." He tapped the paper 
 in his hand. "But this, of course, will make a difference." 
 
 "Yes!" She paused and then got to her feet. "Mr. 
 Shevlin, do you know that Patrick's mother is insane, 
 quite out of her mind?" 
 
 "Crazy? No!" 
 
 "And that Alexander Clark is wickedly cruel to the 
 poor woman?" 
 
 Shevlin turned squarely around and centered a pair 
 of startled eyes upon his questioner.
 
 "How do you know that?" he demanded. There was 
 disbelief in his tones. "How do you know?" he repeated. 
 
 "Go upstairs and see for yourself," she replied. "She 
 I mean I thought you could save her from further abuse 
 if you came over. I must return to New York soon, but 
 I'll come back to-morrow morning. Can you stay here 
 until Mr. Clark comes? And and all night?" 
 
 "But listen to me!" he began. "What did you tell me 
 your name was?" 
 
 For a moment she turned from him, and he waited for 
 her to answer. By and by, without moving, she spoke 
 huskily: 
 
 "Patricia O'Kelleron! Didn't you notice it on the 
 marriage certificate?" Then she told him in a few broken 
 sentences how and when and where she had married 
 Patrick O'Kelleron. "Until I went to Butte " How hard 
 the confession came "until I went to Butte, I was I 
 was Patricia Pepperday." 
 
 Then, as an ejaculation fell from his lips, she sat down 
 limply. 
 
 "Pepperday?" he echoed. "Yes yes! I know that 
 name. Michael Pepperday! Is is Michael Pepper- 
 day a relative of yours?" 
 
 "My brother ! My dear, dear brother," she 
 acknowledged, a break between each word. 
 
 His usual composure, gained by many years at the bar, 
 was not proof against this. Here was worse and more 
 of it, he thought. 
 
 "Good Lord! Why, Pat convicted that young fellow 
 of murder!" he exclaimed. "That was Patrick's record 
 case." 
 
 It sounded brutally coarse, but he had not meant it 
 so. When he saw her crumple up, he apologized : 
 
 "I say, child, just overlook what I said, will you? 
 Sometimes I talk too much, or at least my wife says I do.
 
 2 6o THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 Now, tell me, was I the first to tell you about your 
 brother and and Patrick, or did you know it before?" 
 
 "I knew it," she breathed faintly, "but not till after 
 I married him!" 
 
 All in a minute a perfect Niagara of questions he 
 wanted to ask flooded to the tip of Shevlin's tongue. There 
 was a mystery connected with the girl; it hung over her 
 like a pall. 
 
 "Where were you when your husband was killed?" he 
 inquired. 
 
 "On the train going to Chicago." Her words were 
 scarcely audible. "I had left him forever! I never in- 
 tended to see him again." 
 
 "On account of your brother?" was his terse query. 
 
 "Yes!" 
 
 She made a pathetic figure, there in the half-light, 
 obviously almost at the end of her strength. 
 
 Shevlin drew a long sigh. Against his better judg- 
 ment he found himself believing every word she had 
 spoken. 
 
 "If you really must go back to New York tonight," 
 he advised, "you'd do well to start along. It's 
 getting late! But if you want to stay, I'll see that Clark 
 doesn't molest you. It might be better, though, if you 
 were somewhere else, when he gets home. Here, hide 
 these papers, and, for God's sake, don't lose them!" 
 
 His whole attitude had changed, and he spoke in such a 
 kindly manner that Patricia held out both her hands. 
 He told himself afterwards it was no wonder Patrick had 
 loved and married the pretty mite. Her very helpless- 
 ness made him bend his head to catch her words. 
 
 "I'll bring my brother, Barney, with me to-morrow. 
 Mrs. Clark will be quite safe while I'm away, won't 
 she?" 
 
 "Rest easy on that score," he interjected.
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 261 
 
 "And and, Mr. Shevlin, would you mind keeping both 
 my marriage certificate and Patrick's will for me, please. 
 I'd be happier if you would." 
 
 And from the time Frank Shevlin shoved those valu- 
 able documents into his pocket, he was Patricia O'Kel- 
 leron's friend.
 
 262 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI 
 
 INASMUCH as Frank was an old-fashioned man, it 
 went against the grain to allow Patricia to go out alone 
 at that time of night; but, when he broached the subject, 
 she would not even consent to his taking her to the taxi. 
 
 Under the roof of the dark porch they solemnly shook 
 hands, but Shevlin did not go back into the house until 
 he was assured that she had reached the mainland end of 
 the piled bridge. 
 
 "Patsy, son," were the plaintive words that caused him 
 to curse his own stupidity when he entered Mrs. Clark's 
 chamber. Why had he not forced his way to Nancy 
 before? Why had he not realized the caliber of Alex- 
 ander Clark? He called her name softly but staggered 
 back as she lifted her head. 
 
 "It isn't Patrick, Nancy," he answered. "I'm Shevlin, 
 Frank Shevlin." 
 
 She smoothed the disordered gray hair from her 
 temples and raised herself laboriously to a sitting position. 
 
 "Patrick's been here, Frank," she informed him. "God 
 let him come, and he left his nice little wife with me. 
 She took off the rope Alexander used to tie me in bed, 
 and she says she'll let me live with her, and and she 
 sang me to sleep. It's the first time I've been happy 
 since my boy died. You won't let Alex hurt her, Frank, 
 will you? He's very strong, Alexander is!" 
 
 It could not be that this wreck of a woman was Patrick 
 O'Kelleron's mother. This shattered creature was not 
 the Nancy he had known. 
 
 Unable to speak, he caught the hand that fluttered 
 toward him and held it between his own warm palms.
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 263 
 
 "Frank," she whispered, "do you see Patrick any- 
 where?" 
 
 "No, dear," he returned. "No! No, indeed!" 
 
 "Then don't go away to-night and leave me. It's night, 
 isn't it?" 
 
 "Yes, it's night, and I'm going to stay, dear Nancy. 
 Lie down and go to sleep again." 
 
 "No, I can't sleep, I can't, Frank," she whimpered. 
 "Don't I look a little just a little bit ill?" 
 
 "God," shuddered Shevlin. 
 
 He drew a chair close to the bed and sat down. 
 
 "Nancy," he burst out, "Nancy, did Alex " 
 
 An expression of terror crossed the woman's face. 
 
 "Hush," she answered, trembling. "Alexander is in an 
 awful temper. He might come in any minute; he mustn't 
 catch me telling you my troubles. A very queer, yellow- 
 haired actress came along with him the other day, a girl 
 he called 'Babe.' I didn't like her, and I told him so. Be- 
 cause I resented her being here, he beat me. He's he's 
 going to put me in an asylum as soon as he takes charge 
 of Patsy's money. He told that woman so right before 
 me. Oh, how they both laughed! I'm I'm not crazy, 
 Frank!" 
 
 "Of course, you're not," soothed Shevlin in a brotherly 
 fashion, "and you're not going to any asylum, believe 
 me! Pat's wife appeared just in time to head off Alex' 
 game. So, don't you worry! Now then, I'm going to 
 have Doctor Watkins here to-night. He'll make you 
 comfortable. I'll telephone him this minute. Why, 
 Nancy, don't you believe me when I say Alexander shan't 
 hurt you?" 
 
 "Don't leave me, don't go away," she cried. 
 
 "Only to telephone to Doctor Watkins," he encouraged, 
 and her sobs were quieted by her faith in his promise. 
 
 When he passed into the hall, he met Alexander rushing
 
 264 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 up the stairs two at a time. As they confronted each 
 other, surprise colored Clark's countenance crimson. 
 
 "Oh, my dear Shevlin, how in the world did you get in 
 here?" he asked with an astonished twist of his lips. 
 
 "By the front door, of course," was the reply. "How'd 
 you suppose, Alex? I didn't fly down the chimney, and 
 I'm not a fellow to break into another man's home." 
 
 "But the door was locked," faltered Clark. 
 
 Then he was impressed with a picture of Nancy, wrig- 
 gling from under her ropes and against his express orders 
 descending the stairs to admit the one man he had con- 
 stantly vowed should not enter the house. 
 
 "I had a bit of news for you, Alex, so I ran over," 
 Shevlin announced, "and I was shocked to see Nancy in 
 such a condition." 
 
 To conceal his growing consternation, Alexander flicked 
 his handkerchief across his face. 
 
 "Frank, it's a thousand wonders she isn't worse, poor 
 darling," he rejoined in sympathetic tones. "Pat's death 
 quite unbalanced her mind. I am frightened to have her 
 move about when I think of how she fell downstairs. She 
 insisted she was going to find him somewhere. She 
 simply wouldn't stay in bed until she was herself, as I 
 wanted her to." 
 
 "So you tied her in! " snapped Shevlin. "And a doctor, 
 Alex! Why hasn't she had a doctor?" 
 
 A slight shrug of Clark's shoulders indicated how 
 lightly he was impressed by the question. 
 
 "Now, listen to me, dear boy," he urged. "Nancy 
 could have had a doctor or anything else she wanted. 
 But really, Frank, I don't think it's necessary to call 
 Watkins in at this time. After a while when she gets 
 used to Patrick's absence and realizes that he is dead, I 
 won't have to use such stringent measures." 
 
 He spoke with confidence, suavely, courteously, all the
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 265 
 
 time hiding the inward exultation that, after two days, 
 no one would be privileged to enter here without his per- 
 mission or invitation. Another forty-eight hours would 
 put it out of the power of any one to disturb him, in his 
 suddenly acquired affluence. It was this knowledge burn- 
 ing in his breast that superinduced his most affable manner. 
 
 "Come along to my den, dear Shevlin," he invited smil- 
 ing, "and shed your precious news on my most willing 
 head. We'll have a sociable drink. Pardon a moment. 
 Mrs. Clark is calling me." 
 
 "No, she's calling me," protested Shevlin, moving for- 
 ward. 
 
 A ringing laugh burst from Clark. 
 
 "My dear Frank," he exclaimed, "it's evident you don't 
 know Nancy as well as I do. While she's an old dear, I 
 must admit she always plays to the gallery." 
 
 Nevertheless, the lawyer followed close behind Alex- 
 ander. 
 
 Shrinking away from her husband's extended hand, 
 Nancy began to cry. 
 
 "Oh, Frank, stay with me. Don't leave me alone with 
 him. I'm so so afraid. Get away, Alex ! Don't touch 
 me!" 
 
 "There, there, Nance, be quiet," responded Shevlin, 
 stationing himself near the bed. "I'll just stay here with 
 your wife, Alex, till Doctor Watkins comes. You see, 
 she wants me to. You trot down and telephone and tell 
 him to bring along Miss Browning. Nancy needs a 
 nurse." 
 
 Two pairs of masculine eyes battled a moment. Then, 
 angrily, Alexander whirled on his heel and departed. 
 
 And not until Frank Shevlin saw that Mrs. Clark was 
 in the competent hands of Miss Browning, a sympathetic, 
 buxom woman, and Doctor Watkins had taken his de- 
 parture, did he retire with Alexander to a commodious
 
 266 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 room adjoining the library. Ah, how many times he had 
 enjoyed himself there with Patrick! It infuriated him, 
 Alexander's proprietary manner. 
 
 "Now, you've humored my wife, Frank, I hope you're 
 satisfied," Clark said as sweetly as if butter would not 
 melt in his mouth. "The dear thing can be as theatrical 
 as she likes with soft old Browning. Nancy loves to have 
 a fuss made over her, and she's just in her element with 
 Archibald Watkins hanging around. Sit down a while! 
 What would you like to drink?" 
 
 "Nothing! Not a drop of anything, thanks! I'll 
 smoke, though." So saying, Shevlin took a cigar from his 
 pocket. 
 
 Naught but the realization that he would soon be at 
 liberty to resent the intrusion of this legal old busybody 
 had carried Alexander through the last trying hour. With 
 assumed nonchalance he seated himself, extracted a 
 cigarette from his case and lighted it. 
 
 "I'm rather curious to learn how you got in here, 
 Shevlin," he remarked, harking back to the question that 
 especially interested him. "I'm perfectly sure the house 
 was securely locked when I went away. In fact, we have 
 but one servant now, and I gave her leave to take a run to 
 White Plains. I left after she did. Did Nancy come 
 downstairs?" 
 
 "I'll explain all that later," drawled the lawyer, his 
 head enveloped in a cloud of smoke. "Want to hear a 
 bit of gossip?" 
 
 Almost at the end of his patience, Clark assented. 
 
 "Yes, I suppose so, though I'm not much concerned 
 with the wags of Portchester. I'd like to choke a lot of 
 scandal-mongers in this town." 
 
 Shevlin laughed. 
 
 "But most of 'em mean well, I imagine, Alex. How- 
 ever, I'll miss my guess if you're not interested in this.
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 267 
 
 As it happens, it didn't come from the tongues of Port- 
 chester. The most surprising thing has transpired; 
 Nancy can't be appointed adminstrator now." 
 
 With incredulous scepticism Alexander's mouth opened, 
 and his usually drooping lids spread wide. What had his 
 wife said to Frank when he was alone with her? Perhaps, 
 that she did not wish to act as administrator of her son's 
 estate. If that were so, he would give her good cause 
 to change her mind. 
 
 "And why not, pray?" he inquired with an effort not to 
 appear disturbed. 
 
 "Well, it's like this," answered Shevlin, his eyes, under 
 thick shaggy brows, scrutinizing the other's face. "You'll 
 remember how I used to prod Pat to make a will, and 
 how he always put me off. Well, it seems he did make 
 one without my help, and it's cropped up at last." 
 
 "Hell!" The coming of so harsh an expletive from 
 Clark's polite lips indicated how tremendous was the 
 shock of the lawyer's announcement. Then Alexander 
 recovered himself in a measure and added, "How do you 
 know?" 
 
 Not in many years had Frank Shevlin enjoyed himself 
 as he did at that moment. In tantalizing deliberation he 
 tapped his cigar over an ash tray. 
 
 "I've seen it," he asserted with a smack of his lips, 
 "and I've had it in my hand, Alex." 
 
 "Let me see it, too," exclaimed Clark, partly rising. 
 
 Taking out his watch, Shevlin counted off twenty 
 seconds with Alexander half out of his chair. 
 
 How provokingly slow the old codger was, Clark told 
 himself, with difficulty repressing his eagerness. 
 
 "Let me see it, Frank," he insisted. 
 
 "No, not now," refused Shevlin as his timepiece went 
 into his pocket, and Clark settled back. "Sit still, and be 
 easy, Alex. The affair is a wee bit complicated and needs
 
 268 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 a little explanation. Besides, my dear Alex, you certainly 
 have more sense than to imagine that a man would carry 
 about loose a will bequeathing millions. You're too 
 wise for that!" 
 
 Involuntarily his hand went to his chest, and he chuck- 
 led audibly at the memory of a gray-eyed girl producing 
 the valuable document in question. 
 
 By main force Alexander kept his seat. He was as 
 positive that the man before him had upon his person the 
 title to the fortune he craved, as that he was living. 
 
 "Tell me about it." 
 
 "It was drawn by Patrick himself, in Idaho Falls in the 
 State of Idaho; the exact date I've forgotten," observed 
 Shevlin. "It is in the usual form, signed by Pat at the 
 end, with a full attestation clause and two witnesses." 
 
 "Never mind all that technical stuff," thrust in 
 Clark. "What's the substance of it? What did Patrick 
 do with his property?" 
 
 "The first clause provides for the payment of his debts 
 and funeral expenses," the lawyer continued with tran- 
 quillity. "Really that was an unnecessary precaution, 
 you know. The law would see to that, anyway." 
 
 Bending forward, Alexander queried, "Of course, then 
 what?" 
 
 "The second clause is the disposing part of the will." 
 Shelvin stopped and cleared his throat while he watched 
 the other man's strained, expectant attitude. 
 
 "Would would you mind, dear boy, reading it as it is 
 written?" came pleadingly from Clark's pursed lips. 
 
 With a puff of smoke, Shevlin blew the question aside. 
 
 "Don't get in a sweat, old man," and he grinned. 
 "Everything in its order. You won't relish the fact, 
 Alex, that that Pat left everything to his wife." 
 
 In a most undignified manner Alexander bounced up. 
 He turned giddily around and sank down again.
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 269 
 
 "What?" he cried. "His wife! Patrick didn't have 
 a wife!" 
 
 "Apparently he did," was the mild answer. "Anyhow, 
 a girl came here to-day who says Pat married her." 
 
 "Did you see her, Frank?" 
 
 "I certainly did to-night! She telephoned me to 
 come over, and she's one damned pretty woman, too. 
 Take my opinion on that! She she let me in, so don't 
 put the blame on Nancy." Shevlin's words were muf- 
 fled by the short spurts of smoke which accompanied 
 them. "I saw her marriage certificate, also, Alex, signed 
 by Patrick. You couldn't fool me on that boy's scrawl 
 in a hundred years. So I've made up my mind she's the 
 genuine article." He made a gesture with his hand as 
 though to indicate that that practically settled it. 
 
 A long silence ensued during which the lawyer smoked 
 furiously, and Alexander contemplated the tips of his 
 boots in deep meditation. 
 
 "Did Pat cut his mother off entirely, Shevlin?" he ex- 
 ploded at length. 
 
 The question gave Frank the opportunity he had been 
 eagerly anticipating. Figuratively speaking, the propi- 
 tious moment had arrived in this interesting game to play 
 his winning cards. 
 
 "Pat was a remarkable fellow," he philosophized ap- 
 provingly. "He had a superior insight into human nature 
 that slipped by me as well as I knew him." 
 
 He smiled a wide, enigmatical grin at the corner of the 
 room. Then he turned to his rigid neighbor. 
 
 "You'll agree with me, Alex," he took up, "when you 
 hear that the boy requested his wife to provide suitable 
 support for Nancy as long as she lives. Patrick stated 
 plainly that, if he gave anything to his mother outright, 
 you'd waste it." 
 
 Heartily as the speaker disliked the handsome Alex-
 
 270 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 ander, he was inclined to pity him then. There he sat, 
 the unfortunate, huddled over dismally, pulling his fingers 
 until the joints cracked. Humming a tune through his 
 nose, Frank prepared another cigar for lighting. He 
 struck a match and held it aloft and glanced up. And 
 then, he found himself looking into the barrel of a 
 revolver. 
 
 "Give me that will, Frank," ordered Alexander, his lips 
 drawn back from his gleaming teeth. "Put your hand 
 in your pocket and hand it over." 
 
 There was no blandness in Clark's erect figure, no 
 suavity in his low, commanding voice. 
 
 Shevlin's face went white as the cold steel met his 
 temple. 
 
 "All right, all right, my dear Alex," he agreed. "You 
 don't have to kill me to get what you want. Surely you 
 know that." 
 
 The hand that held the gun slumped slightly, and the 
 cold muzzle, lurching away, gave Shevlin the chance he 
 needed. With one direct blow he knocked the weapon to 
 the floor, and another, more forcible still, landed Alex- 
 ander on his back. 
 
 Pouncing on the gun, Shevlin swept it into position, 
 ready for use. 
 
 "Quite theatrical, Alex," he laughed down at his op- 
 ponent. "One of the best bits of acting I ever saw! 
 Did the peroxide blonde you flashed on Nancy touch up 
 your* ability in bounderism? She did a good job, I 
 swear! Get up, you idiotic four-flusher!" 
 
 At the peremptory order, Alexander arose from the 
 floor. 
 
 "I'm glad I made your nose bleed, you rascal," rasped 
 Shevlin, "and you're lucky it isn't worse! If it weren't 
 for the scandalous mess it would get your wife into, I'd 
 open a hole- in your hide and let daylight clean through
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 271 
 
 you. Now, plump your damned elegant person down in 
 that chair while I make you a classic speech you'll remem- 
 ber to your grave. Squat, Alexander!" He slowly 
 lifted the revolver and repeated, "Squat, my friend!"
 
 272 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII 
 
 So it happened that the moon had made but one com- 
 plete cycle around the earth since Patricia O'Kelleron had 
 answered Nancy Clark's ghostly "Paddy?" with a whis- 
 pered "What?" when the court stamped its seal of ap- 
 proval upon the last will and testament of Patrick 
 O'Kelleron. 
 
 That was a miserable moment for Alexander Clark. 
 However anxious he had been to prevent the probate, he 
 really could have done nothing more than to make a little 
 delay; and even that he was induced not to attempt during 
 a private conversation with Frank Shevlin and Mrs. 
 Patrick O'Kelleron. 
 
 As it was still March and blustery cold, Patricia's 
 first move was to open the Park Avenue house in New 
 York and establish her home there. 
 
 Quite ill with unspoken suspicions that all was not as 
 it should be with Michael, Yum-yum came from Balm- 
 ville in one of the O'Kelleron sedans. 
 
 Mrs. Clark, better in health, was transplanted from the 
 chilly discomfort of O'Kelleron Island to the snug warmth 
 of the city house. 
 
 For Patricia herself, the month had been a period of 
 introspection and reconstruction. Fame before the foot- 
 lights no longer attracted her, but her ambition for her 
 brothers soared skyward, when Martin Brewer placed 
 Barney in a Broadway show as understudy for the lead- 
 ing part. 
 
 There were unendurable moments for her over Michael. 
 Especially had she suffered the day she had told him of 
 her marriage, but Frank Shevlin had lightened her burden
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 273 
 
 by accompanying her to Ossining. Oh, the hearty hand- 
 shake he had given Michael ! Assurances, too, of his aid 
 for a new trial. The advisibility of applying for a pardon 
 was discussed. The lawyer thought it improbable that 
 executive clemency would be extended so soon, and 
 Patricia and Michael objected to it because it would not 
 remove the stain of the conviction, even if it were granted. 
 
 "Pat O'Kelleron would have dug up evidence which 
 would have been an entering wedge for an application," 
 Shevlin had avowed, "so I guess I can. Buck up, Pepper- 
 day, and good luck to you." 
 
 Now that she had some liberty, Patricia decided to de- 
 vote a part of the wealth, so strangely and unexpectedly 
 hers, to the use of the poor and unfortunate ; and roughly 
 her purpose was to supplement and assist Martin Brewer's 
 "God save 'em!" work. 
 
 Arrangements were made for that between herself and 
 Martin one evening when she was calling at Brewer's. 
 
 The tale of how the parrot had come to join the family 
 circle Benny told her eagerly. 
 
 "I don't believe any one was going to harm George at 
 all," he asserted. "Anyway, I couldn't get a word out of 
 Fancy about it after the first day she came here. She's 
 a lot happier, though, than she was then. Did you notice, 
 Lady Pat, how plump her cheeks are?" 
 
 "Yes, Benny," answered Patricia, "and it was the 
 kindest thing you ever did, to help that poor child. I 
 want to do something for her myself." 
 
 It was Benny's belief, so he said, that Fancy was miser- 
 able in her mother's house. He insisted that she had 
 neither the wit nor strength to do the work expected of 
 her and was depressed by her separation from George. 
 
 "I wish I could have her with me," said Patricia, "but, 
 of course, I'd have to consult her mother before I make 
 any plans."
 
 274 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 So that idea sent Patricia back to Forty-eighth Street 
 the next day. 
 
 "Why, m' dear," remarked Mrs. Cavendish, "I'd like 
 to know what under the canopy you want with my girl. 
 She's about as much good as a rag doll. Now, what do 
 you want of 'er?" 
 
 "I'm fond of Fancy," evaded Patricia. 
 
 "Is that sayin' you think I'm not," flared the house- 
 keeper, suspicious that her character as a parent was 
 being attacked. 
 
 "Certainly not, Mrs. Cavendish! Of course, not! But 
 you see I lived here long enough to know that she is a 
 trial to you. There're so many things she could learn if 
 she had the opportunity. She likes me, and, if you agree 
 to let me keep her, say five years " 
 
 Then the sum of money Patricia offered was a persua- 
 sive consideration with the busy landlady. 
 
 Thus it came about that one morning Fancy, all smiles, 
 took George from the Brewer home and carried him to 
 Park Avenue in triumph. 
 
 Some days later when Frank Shevlin entered his 
 offices at Number 120 Broadway, he greeted a tall man 
 who arose slowly. 
 
 "Were you waiting for me, sir?" Frank asked, divest- 
 ing himself of his outer garments. "Chilly, isn't it? 
 We're going to have a late summer from the feel of it. I 
 drove in from Portchester, and it was anything but pleas- 
 ant. Did you say you wanted to see me?" 
 
 "Yes," was the stranger's husky reply. "If you have 
 a little time, I'd like to see you privately if I may." 
 
 Glancing at his watch, Shevlin nodded. 
 
 "I've an appointment at eleven," he said. "That gives 
 us thirty-five minutes. Think that will be enough? All 
 right, then! Come into my private office." 
 
 There was a peculiar something about his caller that
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 275 
 
 aroused the attorney's interest. He saw, without seeming 
 to be curious, that the powerful face was very pale and 
 thin to emaciation. Heavy, dark spectacles, encased in 
 bone settings, shielded a pair of eyes which Frank 
 imagined, were weak and near-sighted. The poor fellow 
 looked as if he had been through a long period of sick- 
 ness. However, the lawyer made no remark as he piloted 
 him into a large, sunny room. 
 
 "Take a seat," he invited with a hospitable flourish, 
 settling himself in his desk chair. "There! Fire ahead ! " 
 
 "I want to retain you as my attorney," stated the 
 stranger abruptly. 
 
 "In difficulty eh?" 
 
 "Yes!" 
 
 "But I certainly have to know the nature of your case 
 before committing myself," Shevlin pointed out. "Believe 
 me, it's quite customary. So, if you'll proceed, we may 
 get somewhere." 
 
 "Fm very glad," remarked the other ambiguously. 
 
 "And why should you be glad, pray?" 
 
 "You don't recognize me! You don't know me!" 
 
 "No, I don't!" 
 
 "No recollection of me at all?" 
 
 "Not in the least!" 
 
 As the other man arose, Shevlin heaved himself to his 
 feet, ready for any emergency. His would-be client was 
 acting suspiciously like an escaped lunatic; a nervous 
 woman could not have trembled more violently. Obvi- 
 ously the big fellow was laboring under great excitement. 
 
 "Yes, sir?" Frank encouraged, and that was all. 
 
 As if struggling out of a hypnotic sleep, the stranger 
 drew a long breath. One thin hand went to his glasses, 
 and he lifted them off. 
 
 "I I'm Patrick O'Kelleron, Frank," he uttered with 
 extreme difficulty.
 
 276 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 After that neither spoke for several minutes. Patrick 
 O'Kelleron was awaiting recognition. Frank Shevlin was 
 staring into familiar brown eyes, eyes he had believed 
 closed to sight forever. He stood rigidly, unable to 
 grasp that his vision had not played him false, that his 
 ears had heard aright. But that steady, warm gaze 
 belonged to none other than Patrick O'Kelleron, the boy 
 he had dandled on his knee as a fat, round baby, the boy 
 he had taught to swim, to fish, to shoot and a thousand 
 and one things that go with advancing youth. In that 
 palpitating silence he recalled a passionate, red-headed, 
 fatherless youngster who had been as dear to his child- 
 less manhood as the flesh and bone of another's flesh and 
 bone could be. He swallowed a sob and leaned against 
 the desk inertly. Patrick O'Kelleron had risen from 
 the dead! Slowly his kindly eyes filled with tears, and 
 he dropped back into his chair. 
 
 "Pat, boy! Patrick!" formed on his stiff lips. 
 
 Instantly Patrick was at his side, and, as convention is 
 forgotten in the bigger moments of men's lives, his arm 
 went around Shevlin's bent shoulders. 
 
 "Frank, father!" he murmured in appeal. 
 
 Oh, that heaven-born word, "Father!" It touched 
 Frank Shevlin's spirit like a benediction; it swept away 
 that transcendent sense of loss, and it dried his tears. 
 
 "God sent you back to me, son," he murmured thickly. 
 "I'm not asleep and you are alive! Why, why, 
 you're my boy, my Pat!" 
 
 "Yes, I am your boy," brought Shevlin up standing. 
 
 "If you are Pat, who was the man buried in your 
 family vault, I'd like to know?" he demanded with a 
 sharp, involuntary gesture. "I I myself attended a 
 funeral " His voice softened as he abruptly changed 
 the subject. "Sit down, sonny. Wait a second while I 
 call off my appointments for to-day."
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 277 
 
 Five minutes later, when he returned, he was still ex- 
 tremely pale, but there was a peacefulness in his eyes that 
 had not been there since that day he had stood, weeping 
 over a closed, black coffin. Because he was of a tem- 
 perament that always gives praise for God-bestowed gifts, 
 he said, on sitting down at his desk: 
 
 "I feel so stirred up, Pat, so happy, so grateful, right 
 in me here," he flattened his hand over his heart, "that I 
 can't get all the breath I need. Tell your friend what 
 happened to you." 
 
 "It's hard to sort out just what did happen to me," 
 said O'Kelleron. "But the Butte police must have mis- 
 taken Eddie Blake for me." 
 
 "Eddie Blake!" came in startled tones, and then again, 
 "Eddie Blake! How how " 
 
 "What caused his death I don't know," interposed 
 Patrick jerkily. "He might have killed himself, or he 
 might have been blown up with the house." 
 
 "But you, son, you! You came, and I didn't recognize 
 you." 
 
 "No wonder you didn't, Frank! I couldn't believe I 
 was myself when I came to my senses. I'd been weeks in 
 a Chinaman's hut. I was told that a couple of Chinese 
 prospectors found me, literally full of holes and dying. 
 My voice is about gone, and I've lost every ounce of fat 
 I ever had. My hair fell out, too, and this " he passed 
 his hand hesitantly over his thick, dark hair, "this," he 
 went on, "is a wig. I've got red fuzz on my scalp like a 
 new-born ' 
 
 He stopped in his explanation. There had been a tinge 
 of whimsicality in his tones as he spoke of his bald pate, 
 but it was wholly gone when he burst forth: 
 
 "My mother, Frank! Where is she? And Alex 
 Clark" 
 
 "Nancy's much better than she was, old man," inter-
 
 278 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 rupted Shevlin, rubbing his hands together, "and, 
 goodness me, won't she chirk up now you're home? But 
 you'll have to break it to her gently, or she'll keel over 
 worse than I did." 
 
 Then he laughed a little. He thought of Nancy over- 
 whelmed Nancy weeping Nancy rising in the bliss of 
 renewed motherhood. Then another lightning picture 
 came into his mind. A solemn, gray-eyed girl! Ah, 
 Patrick's wife! And he sighed. Would Patrick's com- 
 ing back lift the shadows from her lovely face and put 
 again the spirit of youth within her soul? 
 
 "Do do you remember that you were married, Pat?" 
 he questioned abruptly. 
 
 A hungry, haunted look swept into the brown eyes 
 that were studying the speaker. Then Shevlin realized 
 that there had been a tragedy in the Montana mountains 
 outside of that appalling explosion. His suspicions, born 
 of what little Patricia had told him, were confirmed. 
 He felt strangely sorry for his pale, young friend there 
 sorry for the girl on Park Avenue. 
 
 "I see you remember it, boy," he commented softly. 
 
 "God, yes; that's the one thing I do remember," cried 
 O'Kelleron. "That's what sent me home almost before 
 I was able to walk. I I found out that that my wife 
 came east from Alf Carraby, a friend of mine in Butte. 
 Where where is she, Frank? Have you seen her?" 
 
 "Seen her?" repeated Shevlin, controlling a desire to 
 ask questions. "I should think I had seen her. She's 
 living in your town house with her own folks and your 
 mother." 
 
 The signs of anxiety faded from O'Kelleron's face. 
 It was as though many nameless dreads had met sudden 
 extinction. 
 
 "Tell me all about it," he begged at last. 
 
 It took considerable time to repeat the happenings in
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 279 
 
 the O'Kelleron household since first Patricia had appeared 
 upon the scene. When, with the eloquence of a well- 
 seasoned lawyer, Shevlin described Mrs. Clark's condition 
 the night he had been called to O'Kelleron Island, 
 Patrick's fleshless jaws snapped together in a rigid, 
 angular line as if they had been made of steel. 
 
 "Damn that Alexander!" he growled. "If once I get 
 my fists on him!" 
 
 Then Frank Shevlin laughed a hearty laugh that eased 
 his pain. 
 
 "I advise you to go a little light on poor Alex, son," he 
 chuckled. "Say, Pat, what your wife's been doing to 
 that malevolent skunk is a plenty. She delivered him a 
 piece of her mind a mile long! And she's cut him down to 
 cigarette money. He complains she doesn't give him 
 enough to buy liver for a pet cat. Great Scott, I laughed 
 to my heels while she was tongue-lashing him, and Alex 
 Well, he withered under her gray eyes like the devil 
 cringes before holy water. She isn't bigger'n a pint of 
 cider, you know, but, oh, my! Well, Pat, she trimmed 
 the handsome Alexander, head, wings and tail feathers. 
 The best thing that ever happened to your mother was 
 that girl looming on O'Kelleron Island with your will." 
 His face assumed a sudden gravity. He bent over and 
 went on in quieter tones, "I really believe, if she hadn't 
 showed up, boy, you wouldn't have had any mother to go 
 see. Nancy'll chirk up now you're back, though, but 
 you must be prepared for a great change in her, Pat. I 
 imagine she'll be quite herself, which she hasn't been 
 since Well, at any rate, you can go home and start in 
 where you left off." 
 
 Now, what had he said to make his big boy slump over 
 in his chair like that and look as if he were ready to faint 
 at any minute, too? 
 
 "Paddy?" he began urgently.
 
 2 8o THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 "I can't go back to my wife, Frank," came in odd 
 defiance from O'Kelleron, "and there's not the slightest 
 use considering it." He paused and turned away slightly. 
 "You can't imagine how thoroughly she detests me! 
 I remember before I'll tell you now that Eddie Blake 
 shot me in a quarrel over her." 
 
 "Shot you?" echoed Shevlin. "What in the world hap- 
 pened? She did tell me she had left you definitely, but 
 she didn't mention Blake." 
 
 "She wasn't there when he came, that's why! She'd 
 been gone hours." 
 
 Then in a voice scarcely above a whisper O'Kelleron 
 told his story, punctuated with many pauses and lapses 
 into silence. 
 
 "That accounts for the explosion then," said Shev- 
 lin. "The newspapers spoke of dynamite lugged into 
 your house by a servant." 
 
 "So Carraby said," nodded Patrick. "He saw my wife 
 in Butte the evening before the explosion. She ran away 
 without leaving me a word. I must admit the truth to 
 you, to myself. She simply couldn't bear the sight of me! 
 Frank, she hates me worse than poison." 
 
 "I'm not so sure about that," demurred the lawyer. 
 
 The instant he had voiced his doubt, he was glad, for 
 his boy straightened and looked more hopeful. 
 
 "She never told you she cared anything for me, did 
 she?" was demanded of him huskily. 
 
 As though he were trying to remember something, 
 Shevlin remained quiet. He was half-tempted to lie, and, 
 after lying stick to it, to keep the glisten in the brown 
 eyes that were searching the very marrow of his soul. 
 
 "No, I can't honestly tell you that she did," he ad- 
 mitted. "At least I don't remember it, but this much I can 
 say! There isn't another woman like her in the world. 
 She takes up a duty "
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 281 
 
 "But I won't have her look upon me as a duty," Patrick 
 rasped back. "I couldn't stand it, Frank. I do believe, 
 though, if she'd known how I felt about her brother " 
 
 "She does know it now," Shevlin cut in with. "I told 
 her myself!" 
 
 The eager statement did not lessen the hurt in O'Kel- 
 leron's eyes, nor did it give him any heart. 
 
 "She couldn't bear even to look at me!" he exclaimed. 
 "It sent her into hysterics whenever I asked her to. And 
 I I , like a blamed fool, kept simply imposing " He 
 broke off but continued again almost immediately, "If 
 it wasn't for clearing up Blake's disappearance " 
 
 Some hours later Patrick O'Kelleron registered at an 
 uptown hotel as "John Hullworthy, New York City."
 
 282 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII 
 
 THE afternoon subsequent to Patrick O'Kelleron's 
 arrival at Frank Shevlin's office, Patricia sat by herself 
 in her sitting room. She was dressed simply in black, 
 her widow's weeds corresponding in color to the dearth in 
 her soul. Sometimes love and longing fetched Stephen 
 Claypoole from the hills of Montana so near that she 
 stretched out her arms as though to greet him. Ever 
 she refused to visualize him in the O'Kelleron vault, 
 although very often, swamped in bitter loneliness, she 
 drove to the cemetery with flowers. But she always 
 came away from the city of the dead, affirming to herself 
 that her man was not back there in the narrow house. 
 
 To-day she was considering and reconsidering her ac- 
 cumulated duties that had broadened her activities. 
 
 Occasionally a scrap of conversation drifted to her 
 from the room across the hall where Mrs. Clark and Yum- 
 yum were engaged in fitful talk. Those two, Nancy and 
 her own wee mother, Patricia called her "dear babies," 
 her "little children." And children, indeed, they had be- 
 come, those sorrowing women, grown old in a few months, 
 waiting for their sons. 
 
 Dear Yum-yum! Little mother in a darkened world, 
 feeling about for a loved one she could not find ! As the 
 days slipped by, Patricia had observed that strained, 
 watchful expression become habitual to the blind face. 
 Yum-yum was eating out her heart for Michael, and how 
 often and with what suppressed anxiety did she ask for 
 him! Time after time his letters had to be reread to 
 her, those precious missives she fondled by day and tucked 
 under her pillow at night.
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 283 
 
 With the keenness of the unseeing, she sensed that 
 something had happened to Michael. No fabrications 
 they wove, nothing they did, drew her out of that attitude 
 of tense listening. 
 
 No wonder Patricia was utterly cast down. She had 
 spent the evening before with Martin Brewer, and to- 
 gether they had examined reams of paper covered with 
 reports from the detectives who had endeavored to obtain 
 new evidence for Michael. Money had been spent 
 freely hi this manner but to no seeming avail. Two 
 sleuths had occupied Barney's room at Cavendish's, 
 poking their inquisitorial noses into every corner and 
 cranny of the house until one day, at a warning from 
 William Foster that they were not actors ouj, of work, 
 Mrs. Cavendish had given them their walking tickets. 
 However, the report stated plainly that the Foster brother 
 and sister could not be inveigled into chummy conversa- 
 tions. They passed most of their time with Alexander 
 Clark who had taken up his abode at the Forty-eighth 
 Street rooming house. Nothing had been discovered be- 
 cause there was nothing to be discovered. 
 
 A dreadful thought this, that made Patricia stumble to 
 her feet and walk restlessly to and fro. 
 
 The ringing of the telephone bell brought her out of 
 her sad reverie. After closing the door, she crossed the 
 room and took off the receiver. 
 
 Her almost uninterested "Hello!" was responded to by 
 Frank Shevlin's voice. 
 
 "Yes, Mr. Shevlin," she answered eagerly. "I'm 
 glad you 'phoned me. I've been intending to call you 
 since morning." 
 
 "Why? Is anything the matter?" asked the lawyer. 
 
 "Yes! Mr. Brewer showed me the detectives' reports!" 
 
 He heard her choke and uttered a few unintelligible 
 words. Then:
 
 284 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 "That doesn't say something won't crop up when we 
 least expect it, Mrs. O'Kelleron," he articulated. "I'm 
 most sorry, but you can see for yourself that we can't 
 apply for a new trial without new evidence. Yet, I 
 wouldn't feel so badly if I were you." 
 
 "But my mother!" Patricia broke in. "Oh, Mr. Shev- 
 lin, she's so unhappy!" 
 
 Again she ceased speaking, and the man at the other 
 end of the wire was silent, also. At length, 
 
 "Are you there, Mrs. O'Kelleron?" he said. 
 
 "Yes! Yes, Mr. Shevlin! I'm" 
 
 "Please don't do that, please don't, my dear," 
 he urged. "Say, I'll tell you what I'll do. I have here 
 with me an extraordinarily clever young fellow. His name 
 is John Hull worthy. I'll shoo him along up to-day, and 
 you talk to him. I've known him for years, and you 
 can place all confidence in him. Anyway, I've been 
 thinking lately that I'd ask you if you'd mind some 
 one else taking hold of my end of Patrick's estate. I'm 
 terribly busy." 
 
 "Does that mean that I won't see you sometimes?" 
 came in subdued tones. 
 
 "Not at all, my dear girl, certainly not! If I can do 
 anything for you at any time, just give me a ring. But 
 Hullworthy is a good financier, and you'll find him practi- 
 cal. Here, here! Now, don't don't! Things will turn 
 around for the better, I'm sure. It's always darkest be- 
 fore dawn, little lady." 
 
 When Patricia was notified by Johnson, the butler, 
 that Mr. John Hullworthy was waiting for her in the 
 drawing-room, she was sitting with her mother and Nancy. 
 
 "Perhaps, it's something about Michael, Paddy," sighed 
 Yum-yum. "He's been gone almost a year." 
 
 With filling eyes Patricia impressed a kiss upon her 
 mother's face.
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 285 
 
 And, as she walked down the long flight of stairs, a 
 sort of terror took possession of her, swaying her fiercely. 
 She passionately insisted that, as Michael was innocent, 
 there must be some way to prove it. 
 
 A very tall, thin man was leaning against the mantel 
 when she entered the drawing-room. He was so absorbed 
 in thought that he did not hear her soft footfall, and not 
 until she said "Good afternoon" did he whirl around. 
 
 "You are Mrs. Mrs. O'Kelleron," he stammered in 
 unmusical tones. 
 
 "Yes, and you're Mr. Hullworthy," she returned. "Mr. 
 Shevlin 'phoned me you were coming, and you're very 
 welcome." 
 
 Keen, brown eyes behind the smoked glasses took in 
 her slender, black-robed figure in one glance. Then he 
 bowed over the slim, white hand she laid in his broad 
 palm. 
 
 "Thank you, Mrs. O'Kelleron!" 
 
 His voice was even more husky than before, and a 
 little rasp in the shape of a cough cut into her name as he 
 pronounced it. He gazed at the lovely, somber face. 
 Her gray eyes were shadowed by dark circles, and she 
 looked very weary! He would have given anything in the 
 world to know what her memories were of the husband she 
 thought dead and whether she ever really regretted him. 
 
 But in silence he took the chair she pointed out, and 
 she perched her small self in the corner of a large divan. 
 His eyes grew more than misty behind their colored 
 shields. Truly she was like a bird, a frail young creature 
 who had beaten its wings against the rocks until they were 
 bruised and broken. His heart seemed to turn a somer- 
 sault as he remembered how many times he had named 
 her "My birdie!" in Butte. With self-upbraiding he 
 also recalled that he had helped to implant that expres- 
 sion of sorrow on her countenance.
 
 286 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 "Mr. Shevlin gave you some information about my 
 affairs, I suppose," she began presently. 
 
 To hide his twitching muscles, Hullworthy bowed and 
 pressed his handkerchief to his mouth. 
 
 "Your finances I'm fairly familiar with," he responded. 
 "This morning Mr. Shevlin turned over to me the books 
 of the O'Kelleron estate, but he said you had a private 
 matter you wanted to discuss with me." 
 
 "Yes, I have," she admitted slowly. 
 
 The great, round glasses, shining at her like sparkling, 
 dark wine in a white bowl, filled her with a desire to ask 
 him to take them off. He was such a big, big, solemn 
 man with big, big spectacles, that she stood just a trifle 
 in awe of him. Perhaps, it was his rigid erectness that 
 made her study him speculatively through her partly 
 lowered lashes. 
 
 At the same time emotion was raising ructions in the 
 territory about Hull worthy's heart. His blood, like 
 streams of molten lead, was warming every vein in his 
 body. Frank Shevlin had facetiously remarked it would 
 not be an easy matter to keep Patrick O'Kelleron in the 
 background. Frank had warned John Hullworthy to be 
 careful, and he was being careful. Was he not sitting as 
 upright as a stick, his tongue tied in knots, waiting for her 
 to say something else? 
 
 But she did not seem inspired to confidences. She had 
 dropped her eyes and seemed to be thinking deeply. Now 
 what was distorting his vision? Oh, nothing! Nothing! 
 He was only plainly seeing that the thumb and fore- 
 finger of her right hand were twisting a ring his ring 
 slowly around and around. 
 
 "It's a splendid old room, this," he finally managed 
 to say. 
 
 "I like it," she stated simply. 
 
 Now to business! He set his teeth.
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 287 
 
 "I'm keeping you, I'm sure," she apologized, "but 
 I scarcely know how to begin." 
 
 "Is it so hard?" he queried lamely. 
 
 She sighed like a tired child, and Hullworthy swore 
 internally at Patrick O'Kelleron. That gentleman had 
 been on the verge of stepping out and declaring himself. 
 
 "Yes, it is very," she replied, and she moved rest- 
 lessly. "I suppose every one has something in his life 
 that's difficult to talk over with strangers." 
 
 And was that not so? He had a sealed room of his 
 own which he had not unlocked, even for Frank Shevlin. 
 
 "That's true," he agreed with a stutter. 
 
 "But since I've been sitting here," she went on, "I've 
 decided that you're just the man to help me. I feel it 
 myself, and Mr. Shevlin said so, too." 
 
 Here was the chance of his lifetime! He would clear 
 his throat, so his voice would not sound so much like 
 the croak of a frog, and place himself and his entire time 
 at her disposal. 
 
 She slipped to her feet and came toward him, and, as 
 a flock of birds scatters on wing at a strange presence, so 
 his thoughts took flight at the vision of approaching love- 
 liness. 
 
 "Please don't get up," she said in strangled tones. 
 "I'll sit down again in a minute. But I'm very nervous. 
 I'm horribly upset to-day." 
 
 Forthwith, not experiencing relief in walking, she sank 
 into a chair near him. He was positive if she wept and 
 she looked as if she were about to he would never be 
 able to hold O'Kelleron within bounds. However, she 
 simply sighed again and tucked a stray, dark curl into a 
 mass of other dark curls. 
 
 "I'm afraid I shall cause you a lot of bother before 
 we're throueh," she began in a wistful way, "but I'll be 
 ever so grateful if you can help me."
 
 2 88 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 "That's my errand here," he pointed out almost gruffly. 
 
 "I have a relative who's in serious trouble," she started, 
 and then, to Hullworthy's consternation, she did burst 
 into tears. 
 
 Doggedly he clung to his chair. If he moved an inch, 
 Patrick O'Kelleron would go plump on his knees, and that 
 would end everything. 
 
 "Mr. Shevlin told me Mrs. Clark wasn't at all well," 
 he interjected, as she wiped her eyes. "Forgive me for 
 speaking about it now, but I was intimately acquainted 
 with her son, and I thought, perhaps, she would like to 
 see me." 
 
 "Of course, she would," she nodded. "It always 
 does her good to to see her her son's friends." 
 
 She had ceased weeping, and he was glad of it. 
 
 "Do do you love her, I mean, like her?" he ventured 
 scarcely above a whisper. 
 
 "She's a very dear woman," she faltered, "but I wish I 
 could do more for her. In health she seems to be much 
 better, but Possibly, Mr. Shevlin told you that she is 
 obsessed with the idea that her son's coming back to her." 
 
 "Yes, yes, he did. Could I do you think I could 
 see her to-day?" 
 
 Without hesitation she stood up. 
 
 "I'll run see." But she paused in her flight to the 
 door and, turning, glanced at him. "It was kind of you 
 to speak of Mrs. Clark, to to change the subject so 
 tactfully. I do thank you. I'll try very hard not to 
 cry any more. Excuse me just an instant." 
 
 A few minutes later, when she returned, she found him 
 looking at two oil portraits, his thin, white hands clasped 
 together behind him. 
 
 "Mr. O'Kelleron's parents," she explained, stepping to 
 his side. 
 
 "Yes, I know!" was the throaty reply. "I think I rec-
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 289 
 
 ollect hearing that Pat's father died when he was quite 
 young." 
 
 "I believe so," she agreed. 
 
 While she was resuming her seat on the divan and ar- 
 ranging the cushions at her back, he wiped his glasses 
 without taking them off. 
 
 "Mrs. Clark was very much excited when I told her 
 about you," she broke forth finally. 
 
 With eagerness he demanded: 
 
 "What did she say?" 
 
 "Oh, it's so sad the poor dear!" A forlorn shake of 
 her head accompanied her words. "She insisted that I 
 come right down and bring Patrick up to her. She really 
 scolded me a little because I told her you were not her 
 son but his friend. Mr. Hullworthy, I never have the 
 courage to to talk as if he were dead." 
 
 She checked herself, noticing that his face whitened 
 and that he was strangely moved. It came to her that he 
 must have been very fond of Patrick O'Kelleron. Every 
 day she ran upon new proofs of how much her husband 
 had been loved. 
 
 "What you told me about your relative interests me 
 hugely," he interposed quickly. "What if you go ahead 
 with it now, before I see Mrs. Clark?" 
 
 The sympathy in his husky voice struck clear home to 
 Patricia's heart. 
 
 "I will, and thank you!" she ejaculated. "Forgive 
 me , if if " 
 
 Was she going to weep again? No! Thank Heaven, 
 she was not! But he felt hurt to the quick when she 
 swallowed desperately a number of times. 
 
 "Yes?" he prompted gently. 
 
 "It's so difficult to talk about it to a a stranger," 
 she breathed. 
 
 "Count me a " Patrick O'Kelleron very nearly popped
 
 out "husband," but after the thrilling pause John Hull- 
 worthy spoke the word "friend." 
 
 "Thank you," she said. "There are three of us. We're 
 triplets, my brothers and I. Michael, the youngest of 
 us, is is Oh, Mr. Hullworthy, he was sent innocent to 
 prison. He was accused of a crime he never committed. 
 We've been trying to discover new evidence, but so far 
 we haven't found a bit. There must be a clue some- 
 where!" 
 
 Then she struggled up and stood before him, a tragic 
 figure of girlhood. 
 
 "My brother being innocent, there must be some one 
 who is guilty, Mr. Hullworthy!" 
 
 Then, because she wanted to conceal her feelings, she 
 turned away. 
 
 Emotion shook Hullworthy like a gale as he got to his 
 feet. Wherefore Patrick O'Kelleron argued that 
 Patrick O'Kelleron could accomplish ten million times 
 more in New York than plain John Hullworthy could. 
 John's retort to this was, that if O'Kelleron had not been 
 such a stupid ass in Montana, he would not now be 
 staring out at his beloved, his eyes swimming behind dis- 
 figuring glasses. 
 
 "That's very true," he blurted, "and, if you wish, I'll 
 begin directly to unearth the fellow, whoever he is. The 
 first step will be to talk with your brother. Can you 
 arrange to go to Ossining to-morrow?" 
 
 "Yes, of course," she sobbed behind her handkerchief, 
 "and something tells me in here," and she laid 
 one small hand on her heart, "that, if you take hold of it, 
 he will be free soon." 
 
 Then there fell a silence which seemed difficult for 
 either of them to break. At length, impelled by a morbid 
 desire to discuss her husband with her, Hullworthy put 
 out a feeler.
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 291 
 
 "I remember your brother's trial very well, Mrs. O'Kel- 
 leron. It was conceded by men who followed the facts 
 that Mr. O'Kelleron " 
 
 She turned upon him almost fiercely. 
 
 "Please don't mention his connection with my brother 
 at all," she nipped his tentative investigation in the bud. 
 "I I find I'm happier if if I don't talk about about 
 my husband." 
 
 Agony, shot through with disappointment, crushed 
 Patrick O'Kelleron's hopes and reeled John Hullworthy 
 back on his heels. He was thankful then that her face 
 was hidden. Finally, to stay the storm in his soul, he 
 asked : 
 
 "May I go and see Mrs. Clark now?" 
 
 And sighing, she consented.
 
 2Q2 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX 
 
 As Hullworthy opened the door for Patricia to pass 
 through, Patrick O'Kelleron stated a dozen good reasons 
 why the glasses and wig should be thrown off, why he 
 should be permitted to look into his wife's eyes and 
 implore her forgiveness. He was willing to do anything 
 rather than hold merely episodic relations in the grind of 
 settling up the O'Kelleron estate. He did not give a 
 hang for the money. He would make over all his posses- 
 sions to her. He would assure her that he knew she had 
 no love for him; he would not even mention his own. 
 
 But John Hullworthy was persuaded that such a course 
 would be fatal to his chances of ever again entering the 
 house and the presence of the little girl he was following 
 out of the room. He would rather be her friend than the 
 adored lover of any other woman living! Oh, paradise, 
 to be near her daily, to watch the exquisite movements 
 of her hands and listen to her lilting voice ! 
 
 "You'll be careful what you say to her, won't you?" 
 cautioned Patricia, as side by side they walked up the 
 broad stairway. 
 
 "Of course very discreet," he responded. 
 
 "I hope you don't think I'm wicked, Mr. Hullworthy, 
 because I keep her spirits up by acting as if Patrick were 
 alive?" she whispered, when they reached Mrs. Clark's 
 door. "It makes her happy when I talk about him." 
 
 So unexpectedly did Patrick O'Kelleron bob up that, if 
 John Hullworthy had not been on his guard, the fellow 
 would have demanded then and there just what her idea 
 was of Mrs. Clark's son. But Hullworthy contented him- 
 self with observing:
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 293 
 
 "Patrick would approve of that, I'm sure." 
 
 "Then wait a minute," she answered. 
 
 She opened the door, went in and left it widely ajar. 
 
 How the sight of the familiar furnishings whirled 
 him back to his childhood! There, within its sanctity, 
 he had come in boyish joy and sorrow for maternal praise 
 and consolation. Now, as a broken-down man, he longed 
 for the sound of his mother's voice and her enfolding 
 arms. 
 
 When he caught sight of her sitting opposite another 
 woman in the bay window, her now quite gray locks 
 showing from under her braided cap, he put out a hand 
 for support. Frank Shevlin had warned him to be pre- 
 pared for a change in her. But such a change ! She had 
 none of the high bearing which had made her conspicuous 
 among women. Had Alexander Clark been in his 
 presence at that moment, Patrick would have wreaked 
 upon that rascal some of the fury that almost strangled 
 him. 
 
 Tear-blurred, he watched Patricia glide across the 
 room. His own incompetency showed in an ugly fashion 
 as he saw her lean over the dear bent figure; not even by 
 declaring himself now could he stay the dissolution that 
 was creeping upon it. Deeply agitated, he whipped out 
 his handkerchief and cleared his glasses. 
 
 "Now, you'll be happy, dear mother," he heard Patricia 
 say. "Patrick's friend is here to see you." 
 
 Then turning, she smiled at him and held out her hand. 
 
 Somehow he stumbled to her side without betraying 
 himself. He was blind to every emotion save the one that 
 nearly prostrated him at his mother's feet. 
 
 "Darling," went on Patricia, "this is Mr. John Hull- 
 worthy. He is very fond of Patrick." 
 
 Mrs. Clark peered up at him and passed one feeble 
 hand across her near-sighted eyes.
 
 294 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 "I'm glad to know you, Mr Hullworthy," was her greet- 
 ing as he pressed her fingers. "I I've never met you be- 
 fore, have I?" 
 
 "I think not," mumbled John, scarcely audible. 
 
 "Now, let me introduce Mr. Hullworthy to my little 
 Yum-yum," added Patricia, "and then we'll have a nice 
 chat. My mother, Mrs. Pepperday." 
 
 To guide it to her mother's, she took his hand in hers, 
 and she was conscious of the tremor that ran through him. 
 
 The few inarticulate words he uttered neither she nor 
 Mrs. Pepperday understood. 
 
 "Perhaps, my daughter told you that I am blind," Yum- 
 yum said simply. "Pardon my not being able to see 
 you." 
 
 Hullworthy wanted to crave pardon for himself. He 
 could not see anything, either, through the tears that 
 blurred his spectacles. 
 
 "May I sit down," he begged. "I should like to stay 
 a little while if I may, Mrs. O'Kelleron." 
 
 "Surely!" she accorded him. "Any friend of Patrick's 
 is always welcome here. Isn't that so, Mommy Clark? 
 Now, we'll put this chair right over near you. There, 
 Mr. Hullworthy! I'll sit over here with Yum-yum." 
 
 Suiting the action to the word, she established herself 
 on the broad arm of her mother's rocking chair. 
 
 Then there fell an awkward silence which Mrs. Clark 
 finally broke. 
 
 "It was very kind of you to come, sir! I suppose you 
 haven't seen my Patrick lately, have you?" 
 
 A quick look shot from Hullworthy to Patricia, in re- 
 sponse to which she shook her head. He crushed the 
 desire to fling discretion to the winds and cry his son- 
 ship so all could hear. He forgot for the instant the 
 prime factor in the plan Shevlin and he had so pains- 
 takingly laid out. The girl on the arm of the chair
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 295 
 
 ceased to exist for him, and only the fear of the shock 
 the denouement might give the dear invalid kept him 
 in restraint. 
 
 "My son came once since they said he was dead, when 
 I was very ill on the Island," Mrs. Clark droned on, un- 
 heeding the fact that she had received no answer. "He 
 brought Patricia to me then. He promised to come again, 
 too. Do you think he'll be here soon, Mr. Hullworthy?" 
 
 This time he took his cue from his own pumping heart. 
 
 "Yes!" he said with emphasis. 
 
 "That's good! He must be very busy not to come 
 home for so long. Well, boys will be boys! His father 
 said that once, when Patsy was three years old. The 
 naughty child had dripped ink all over the library rug. 
 Yes, boys will be boys, Mr. Hullworthy." 
 
 Then the reminiscent note dropped from her voice. 
 
 "I like you, sir! I wish you'd stay here! Somehow, 
 you seem very near and dear to me." 
 
 While Hullworthy's dark head was bent over Mrs. 
 Clark's hand, Patricia silently used her handkerchief. 
 
 "Patrick," murmured Nancy, smiling, and then she 
 hesitated. The eagerness faded from her face, and she 
 excused herself by saying, "Ah, pardon me, Mr. Hull- 
 worthy! For the moment I thought my boy was here. 
 I'm getting old, and my mind goes astray sometimes." 
 
 "Why, you know you're getting better by the minute, 
 Nancy," Mrs Pepperday chided. "You must remember 
 how bad off you were and not expect to be well all at 
 once." 
 
 "Yes, yes, I know, I know! I know it, wee Yum-yum! 
 But, if I didn't feel sure I'd have my Patrick soon, I 
 couldn't keep up at all. The days seem so long, and I'm 
 so lonely! Even if he doesn't write, I'm sure he loves 
 me." 
 
 And she began to cry weakly.
 
 296 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 The very air bristled with hysteria. The man's bony 
 frame shook, and Yum-yum gave a small gasping cry. 
 There is no telling what would have happened just then 
 if Patricia had not moved forward. 
 
 "I think, perhaps, dear mother," she interposed, "Mr. 
 Hullworthy had better leave now and come again some 
 othef time." 
 
 But this did not agree with Nancy's wishes at all. 
 She clung to the large hand, lamenting wordlessly. 
 
 "Here, dearest, you mustn't cry," consoled Patricia, 
 unable to hide her own feelings. "Don't you know, 
 when you sob like that, you're always ill for a day or two?" 
 
 "I want my sonny boy," wept Nancy. 
 
 "Of course, you do! But, darling heart, you must be 
 good. Let me wipe your eyes, and you say good-by " 
 
 "I don't want to say good-by," came in a wail. "Let 
 him stay with me, Paddy dear, until Patrick comes back. 
 Perhaps, my boy will be here tomorrow." 
 
 "But I'll come to see you every day, Mrs. Clark," 
 offered Hullworthy thickly. "That is, if Mrs. O'Kelleron 
 approves." 
 
 "If the little mother is very good, you shall," acceded 
 Patricia. "You may come as often as you like. Why, 
 Mommy Clark! Oh, you mustn't, you simply mustn't!" 
 She paused and laid one slender finger on her lip thought- 
 fully. Then, "Well, listen, honey, if Mr. Hullworthy can 
 spare the time, he may stay a while. Afterwards you 
 must take a long nap. Doctor Watkins will scold us to- 
 morrow if you're worse." 
 
 She went close to the silent man, and again the faint, 
 delightful odor of violets fanned his nostrils. 
 
 "Quiet her," her lips framed, and she passed on. 
 
 After the door had closed behind Patricia, Hullworthy 
 glanced at Mrs. Pepperday, who sat with her blind eyes 
 turned towards the sunlit window.
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 297 
 
 Of a sudden he dropped to his knees and slipped one 
 arm around Mrs. Clark and then lifted his glasses. With 
 his lips pressed against her ear, he whispered : 
 
 "Mother, dearest dear, I've come back! Your boy is 
 back, my own!" 
 
 Nancy ceased crying on the instant. She smiled 
 beatifically through her tears and let her head fall for- 
 ward against him. 
 
 There followed no sound in the chamber save the slight 
 creek of Yum-yum's chair and the tick-tock of the clock 
 in the corner. In spite of the monotonous tale the pedu- 
 lum was repeating, time ceased for mother and son. 
 
 At length Nancy's steady, even respiration signified 
 that she slept. Carefully he laid her back against the 
 cushions. 
 
 Then, crossing to Mrs. Pepperday, he said in an under- 
 tone: 
 
 "She's asleep, and I'm going now! When she wakes 
 up, tell her I'll come back to-morrow." 
 
 So hard did Yum-yum's eyes look at the speaker they 
 seemed almost to pop out of their sockets. 
 
 "I heard you tell her you were her son," she breathed. 
 "That was good of you! We always agree with her that 
 he's coming back. It makes her happier." 
 
 Two drops of water rolled from beneath the man's 
 wine-colored glasses, but the blind woman heard only his 
 long-drawn-out sigh. 
 
 "May I kiss you, Mrs. Pepperday?" he asked. 
 
 Mrs. Pepperday smiled; she liked this man who had 
 poured balm on Nancy's heart wound. 
 
 "Of course, you may," she consented. "You're very 
 kind! Blind folks don't need to be told that a person is 
 good. They know it without telling." 
 
 With one hand on his cheek, she returned the pres- 
 sure of his lips.
 
 298 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 "Keep your head down here a minute," she pleaded. 
 "I want to say something. Please don't tell Patricia I 
 spoke to you about it, though. I have a son, a dear, 
 dear son, as dear to me as Patrick is to Nancy, and he's 
 abroad. But I can't get it out of my mind but that he's 
 in trouble. Could you bring him to me, or at least find 
 out about him?" 
 
 Like a child she laid her face upon his hand, and he 
 felt her warm tears. 
 
 "You shall have him," he promised without hesitation. 
 "I give you my word for that! Try and be patient." 
 
 Then whirling on his heel, he went from the room. 
 
 When he stepped into the hall, Patricia arose and 
 spontaneously thrust out her hand. 
 
 "Isn't it pitiful?" she choked. "She does long for 
 her Patrick so!" 
 
 "She went to sleep," interjected Hullworthy hoarsely. 
 "She has the idea in her head that I'm her son. It may 
 have been wrong, but I've quite established myself with 
 her as Patrick and " 
 
 A shrill voice from the music room cut off his words. 
 
 "Ma's jaw wags," it squawked. "Is breakfast ready, 
 Fan?" 
 
 As a slim girl scurried across the reception hall, a 
 parrot balanced on her shoulder, Hullworthy stopped 
 short on the stairs. His eyes followed the slight figure 
 with interest until it disappeared. 
 
 Aware of his astonishment, Patricia explained: 
 
 "That's Fancy Cavendish; she lives with us. Poor 
 baby! She's weak-minded. To-morrow she's going to 
 my aunt's in Balmville to stay until we leave the city for 
 the summer. Doctor Watkins thinks she needs coun- 
 try air. We have great hopes that she will improve both 
 bodily and mentally, for Martin Brewer Do you know 
 Mr. Brewer at all?"
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 299 
 
 "I've heard of him," faltered Hullworthy. 
 
 "He has a lame son," she continued, "and Mr. 
 Brewer has discovered a surgeon who is extremely clever. 
 Doctor Blair says that Benny Benny's Mr. Brewer's 
 son and Fancy can be operated on after the hot weather, 
 and that they'll both be quite normal. It's so wonderful 
 to think about. 
 
 "You'll come in again to-morrow morning before we 
 start for Ossining, won't you?" she queried, smiling, as he 
 reached for his hat. "Mommy Clark will want to see 
 her her Patrick every day now." 
 
 And, throttling Patrick O'Kelleron, John Hullworthy 
 almost tumbled down the front steps.
 
 3 oo THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 i CHAPTER XL 
 
 MARTIN BREWER'S right thumb had swiveled around his 
 left unremittingly while he had absorbed, spell bound, 
 Adelina Pepperday's account of her astonishing adventure. 
 In a breathless ferment, she was seated opposite him on 
 the window-seat in the O'Kelleron drawing-room, one 
 palm cupped to hold her chin. 
 
 Since she had flung open the door to admit him and 
 Frank Shevlin, Martin had been thrillingly cognizant that 
 she was amazingly pretty, with the blood mantling her 
 cheeks, her eyes lustrous gray and radiant. 
 
 Suddenly he was electrified by the thought that his day 
 of reckoning with her had arrived. Until this moment 
 he had not allowed himself to reflect long upon how 
 essential her presence and friendship were to his happi- 
 ness. He had not dared ! 
 
 In Balmville, when he had discovered that Adelina 
 meant more to him than Patricia, in all her glorious youth 
 and distinctive beauty, he had resolutely drawn back into 
 his empty life without a word of explanation. And so 
 he had become used to stifling his hunger for her by stat- 
 ing that honor must ever ride in advance of personal de- 
 sire. She might better think him rakish and unstable 
 than find herself in a whirlwind of notoriety, defense- 
 less. Some day Benny's part in the killing of Fatty 
 Funny Breeches would become public; then she would 
 understand why he had ceased coming to her home. But 
 in the same breath he had added time and again that 
 Adelina was established firmly within his heart, never 
 to be supplanted by any other woman, and that thought 
 descended upon him now.
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 301 
 
 "Aunt Addie," he began feverishly and then desisted in 
 his overture. 
 
 The expostulatory gesture of his hands and his voice, 
 anguished with uncertainty, made her turn pale and 
 shrink back until her head rested on the stack of pillows 
 propped up against the window casing. An onslaught 
 of timidity so overcame her that on the spur of the mo- 
 ment she felt that she must spring up and run away. 
 
 For a straight ten minutes she had been talking in 
 tremendous excitement and had forgotten that she had 
 vowed never to speak to Martin again. With a deeper 
 sense of the self-abasement that had seized her in Balm- 
 ville, when he had abruptly discontinued his visits, she 
 lowered her lashes and remained still. She was as positive 
 now as she had been on that epoch-making day that a 
 single indiscretion of her own had reacted unfavorably on 
 his conception of womanly modesty. Since then he had 
 neither called on her, nor had he telephoned. Humilia- 
 tion had untiringly accompanied her wherever she went, 
 and the longing to see him, to explain away the happen- 
 ing, had not been absent day or night. How could she 
 have been so far oblivious to her chaste up-bringing? But 
 in excuse for that she had told herself that it was her 
 ignorance of worldly wisdom that had caused her to 
 err. 
 
 "Why didn't you send for me this afternoon when you 
 needed help?" came to her ears, just as she was particu- 
 larizing the occasions when her fingers had tingled in his 
 close, warm clasp. 
 
 The one short glance she flashed at him disclosed how 
 pleadingly he was scrutinizing her. Instantly she looked 
 away. 
 
 "Addie, why did you 'phone Frank Shevlin and not 
 me?" he insisted. "It hurt me to get the word from 
 him instead of you."
 
 302 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 Useless question! He knew very well why! She 
 would not have been a Pepperday had she thought of 
 looking to him for masculine protection. And it was all 
 his own fault, too. Ah, that haughty tilt to her dark 
 head was extremely becoming, or would have been if 
 directed at another man! 
 
 "Addie," he began again, like an embarrassed boy, "you 
 haven't forgotten what I told you last year at Balmville 
 that that " 
 
 His words raked the wound still fresh in her heart. 
 Her assumed frigidity melted, and her eyes filled with 
 tears. 
 
 "I shall never forget it," she returned with a sad, nega- 
 tive gesture. "Such things are not forgotten." 
 
 Although she evidently cared enough about him to 
 admit her pain, it struck him like a crack from a 
 whip that the barrier raised by his own seeming neglect 
 would remain an insurmountable obstacle between them. 
 But, as "Never say die!" is the length and breadth of all 
 egotistical love, he ejaculated: 
 
 "But you'll forgive me, dear, when you know all 
 about it. A dozen times a day I've been on the point of 
 'phoning you. If I talked until Gabriel tooted his trum- 
 pet, I couldn't make you understand how I've suffered." 
 
 "I've suffered, too," she murmured faintly, "and I 
 almost perished from shame." 
 
 "Surely, not because I kissed you, dear," he interjected. 
 "You admitted that you loved me, and our loving each 
 other made that kiss a holy one. Now, when I tell 
 you ' 
 
 "I'd rather not talk about it any more," she interrupted 
 fiercely for one so gentle. "I was more to blame than you. 
 Much more! I believed at one time that you had only 
 imagined that you loved Patricia, and that you were 
 fond of me. I know very well now what changed you.
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 303 
 
 Then I didn't understand men, that's all. Now, I do! " 
 She caught her breath. "I beg of you to forget all about 
 Balmville " 
 
 "But I don't want to forget about Balmville," he per- 
 sisted passionately. "I want to remember it always. 
 Addie, let me hold your dear hand while I ask you some- 
 thing." 
 
 A quick throb of her heart contradicted the negative 
 shake of her head. 
 
 "My hand shall stay just where it is, Mr. Brewer!" 
 The touch of frost in her voice lent an air of unmistak- 
 able decision to her refusal. 
 
 Some men are irretrievably overthrown by a woman's 
 denial, but not so Martin. He had seen his error and 
 set out immediately to rectify it. If he could not in all 
 honor ask her to marry him, he would sue for a comrade- 
 ship such as he had experienced that short time in the 
 past. He eyed the small fingers he coveted and noted that 
 they were so tightly clasped that their nails were almost 
 blue. 
 
 "I shall ask you just the same," he stated doggedly. 
 
 Bewildered, she glanced up at him. 
 
 "Addie, would you stand by a fellow if he were knee- 
 deep in trouble?" he demanded without further pre- 
 liminaries. 
 
 His peremptory interrogation came as a shock to 
 Adelina. She had never associated trouble with him, even 
 in the slightest degree. 
 
 "Of course, I would," she assured him, startled. 
 "You know very well I would," and he had known it in 
 his heart of hearts. 
 
 "Ah," slipped from between his teeth on a breath. 
 "Yes, I believe you would, Addie." 
 
 "I'd give my life to help Michael," she whispered. 
 
 A sudden pity seized him as she shuddered. There
 
 304 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 passed through his mind the vision of a boy in a shepherd's 
 costume, and that boy's gray eyes, beautiful in uplifted 
 purity, stared out from his momentary memory of "The 
 Streams Make Glad." Michael Pepperday, as David, the 
 innocent herder of Judea's sheep, was as innocent now as 
 he had been then! He wanted to lay bare his cowardly 
 conduct to the little woman there who had without hesi- 
 tation said she would be loyally near in a crisis. Had 
 the lad in Sing Sing been other than the one she had long 
 ago chosen out of the babies three, nothing could have 
 held back the divulgence that Michael was paying to 
 justice an unjust debt. 
 
 That desire was but little less than his wish to take 
 her in his arms and kiss away the grief that had puckered 
 her face and the mist that insisted on clinging to her 
 lashes. What would she do if he boldly produced that 
 secret from its lurking place in all its ghastly ugliness? 
 
 But he did not have to search far for an answer to that 
 speculation. Without weighing the question, she would 
 refuse to sacrifice Michael for Benny even until autumn, 
 and he knew also that she would not give him an hour's 
 grace in which to prepare a defense. For a moment he 
 followed her mentally on her flight to the State to demand 
 her boy. It was seeing himself surrender his crippled 
 son at the gates of Sing Sing that brought him to his feet. 
 Never before had he directly thought of approaching that 
 stronghold of stone and tears to leave within its walls 
 his unhappy child. If all the world's innocents were 
 shackled together in throngs behind prison bars for 
 Benny's guilt, even then would he hold his tongue. 
 
 Surely, if Adelina's attention had not been directed 
 elsewhere, she would have been suspicious of his desperate 
 emotion. But she was looking out into the street and 
 had caught sight of John Hullworthy guiding the run- 
 about to the curb.
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 305 
 
 "Goodness me, here they come now," she quaked. "I 
 don't know how I can break it to the poor child! Oh, 
 Martin, tell me how to do it!" 
 
 So easily had his given name escaped her lips that she 
 could have been accused, and not unjustly, of having pro- 
 nounced it daily. In an instant he responded to it. Ten- 
 derly he helped her up, nor did he loosen his hold on her 
 arm when she stood tremblingly erect. 
 
 "Steady, now, Addie," he coaxed, anything but steady 
 himself. "You've been such a brick! There's not another 
 woman who would have had your nerve." 
 
 "But I didn't have time to think," she told him with 
 catching breath, "or I wouldn't have dared to have done 
 it, and, oh, dear, I'm afraid Fancy and I maimed him 
 for life." 
 
 "He deserved much more, little woman," he reassured. 
 "If Shevlin or I had been here, he wouldn't have walked 
 after we were through with him." 
 
 The outer door banged, and Martin's hands were 
 fingering the lapels of his coat when Mrs. O'Kelleron, 
 followed by John Hullworthy, rushed into the room. 
 
 At the sight of her aunt and Martin so close together 
 and so badly flustered, Patricia stopped short. 
 
 "What's the matter?" she gasped. "Why are those 
 cars outside?" 
 
 The color going out of her face, she stood in hesita- 
 tion, and Martin went forward a pace. 
 
 "Shut the door, Mr. Mr. " he exclaimed to the tall 
 stranger just over the threshold. 
 
 As Hullworthy turned to obey, he replied in low tones: 
 
 "Hullworthy's my name, John Hullworthy." 
 
 "And mine's Brewer," rejoined Martin, "and let me 
 present Miss Pepperday, Mr. Hullworthy. Lady Pat, one 
 car's mine, one is Frank Shevlin's, and the other belongs 
 to Doctor Watkins."
 
 3 o6 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 He had spoken coolly, but, still apprehensive, Patricia 
 took a few faltering steps toward him. 
 
 "But why are you all here at once?" she queried, quiver- 
 ing. "Why don't you tell me what's happened?" 
 
 Flashing entreaty from one to the other, she met 
 Adelina's gray eyes, and, delaying no longer, Miss Pepper- 
 day flew across the room and took her niece into her 
 embrace. 
 
 "Oh, darling, forgive me," she appealed. "I didn't 
 get here on time. I was delayed two trains because 
 Miranda had a boy calf, and he has rings of white all 
 around his hind legs, and Miranda's as proud as if she'd 
 had twins." 
 
 Patricia kept her curiously bright eyes upon the tremu- 
 lous speaker a moment. Then she began deliberately 
 forcing her aunt's arms from about her. 
 
 "Let me go, Aunt Addie," she said tensely. 
 
 "No, you mustn't run upstairs now, Paddy pet," urged 
 Miss Pepperday. "Come, sit down, my blessed, and, oh, 
 don't tremble so." 
 
 With her under lip between her teeth, Patricia stood in 
 doubt. That something dreadful had occurred while she 
 had been in Ossining with Michael was apparent, but 
 Aunt Addie and Martin did not seem inclined to tell 
 her about it. 
 
 Solicitous to shield her from useless worry, Hullworthy 
 spoke to Brewer. 
 
 "Relieve her mind immediately," he said, laying stress 
 on his command. 
 
 "Well, her mother's quiet now, sir," answered Martin, 
 "and you might as well sit down, Patricia, because you 
 can't go to her until Doctor Watkins says you may. 
 There isn't a thing you can do, so be patient and listen 
 to what your aunt and I have to tell you. There, that's a 
 good girl!"
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 307 
 
 "I'm sure we crippled him between us ; Pat dear," pro- 
 tested Adelina, sinking down beside her niece. "I didn't 
 mean to hit him quite so hard not quite and Fancy 
 struck him on the head with the tongs! She was so 
 excited " 
 
 "Alexander Clark has been here. He was on the eve 
 of removing Nancy and what valuables she had from the 
 house when your aunt arrived," Martin interrupted. 
 
 A wordless ejaculation fell from John Hullworthy, and 
 his large hands doubled into formidable fists. He had 
 turned swiftly toward the door, but Brewer's next asser- 
 tion somehow caused him to change his mind. What 
 Martin had said was: 
 
 "Nancy is a brave woman. You may all believe that! 
 She didn't break down until Alex took himself off, and 
 now Frank Shevlin is with her. He says she's as right as 
 right." 
 
 "Wait till I tell her the rest, Martin," Adelina cut in 
 impetuously. "Paddy, I shall never forgive myself for 
 not doing as I said I would when you 'phoned me last 
 night about your going to Ossining. I intended taking 
 the early train, but I didn't on account of Miranda." 
 She paused to wipe her eyes. "Of course, when I got 
 here, I used my own key to open the door. It was a good 
 thing I did, for there wasn't a soul who would have let 
 me in. Then I went up to Nancy's room, and there she 
 was, all dressed, and, oh, that brute Well, she said 
 afterwards that he said he was going to take her away 
 with him. Why why he actually told the poor dear 
 that he would have her declared insane. Think of it! 
 He's decided to divorce Nancy and marry that Foster 
 girl who lives at Cavendish's." 
 
 The horror on Patricia's face, intensified by the slow- 
 ness with which the story was unfolding, forced Brewer 
 to interpolate:
 
 3 o8 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 "But Nancy wasn't hurt at all, Paddy. Scared a 
 little, of course! Shevlin's going after Clark as soon as 
 he leaves here. Alex will find that Nancy, as well as her 
 property, is fast held away from him." 
 
 "I should hope so, Martin!" Miss Pepperday's eyes 
 sparkled angrily. "Well, honey, as I was about to 
 tell you, he was there, taking all the jewels out of the 
 safe, when I appeared. At first I stood right still, blink- 
 ing, because I didn't know what was going on. Charlotte 
 was out of her chair, and, when she screamed, that wicked 
 man sprang up and knocked her down." 
 
 A half-smothered cry dragged itself from Patricia's 
 throat. 
 
 "My little mother!" she groaned. "Martin, Aunt 
 Addie, don't keep me away from her." 
 
 But Adelina only hugged her the tighter. 
 
 "Wait, Paddy! Doctor Watkins sent Martin and me 
 away, and and she's better now, I'm sure," she soothed. 
 "That Clark, Paddy, he has a regular pussy-cat smile. 
 He didn't notice me until after he had struck your mother. 
 Then he began slipping toward me, grinning from ear to 
 ear." 
 
 So near was she to a complete breakdown that Martin 
 encouraged her by saying : 
 
 "But it was mighty fortunate you fetched your 
 umbrella with you, Addie!" 
 
 Then, indeed, did Adelina rise up in righteous wrath. 
 A quiver passed around her lips, but her eyes became the 
 color of granite in her response. 
 
 "Fortunate," she choked. "It was more than that, 
 Martin ! Why, Paddy, I I gave him a thud on the nose 
 with the handle of your grandfather's umbrella. I meant 
 to say, two thuds, maybe three. And all the while I was 
 thanking my good Heavenly Father, and I thank Him 
 now, for clouding the sky this morning. I said to myself,
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 309 
 
 'Adelina, remember your pious father's words/ 'If there 
 isn't blue enough to make a sailor a pair of breeches, go 
 prepared for rain,' and there wasn't, and I did." 
 
 "But Yum-yum?" broke in Patricia, sensible only of 
 her own bitter anxiety. "Where was she all the time?" 
 
 "Oh, my dear, my dear," Adelina sobbed, "you've 
 never heard anything like it! She was shrieking for 
 Michael till I thought the neighbors would hear her, and 
 she just wouldn't stop. 
 
 "But, as much as I wanted to comfort her, dear, I 
 couldn't then because Fancy Cavendish was beating Alex- 
 ander's head with the tongs. Poor child, she had quite 
 lost control of herself, and, if I hadn't interfered, I don't 
 know what would have happened to him. As it was, he 
 could scarcely get down the stairs." 
 
 "But the servants, Miss Pepperday?" ejaculated Hull- 
 worthy sharply. "Mr. Brewer, where were the serv- 
 ants?" 
 
 In explaining this, Martin said that the butler had 
 gone away on an errand for Patricia, and at the end of 
 a revolver Alexander had marshalled the female servants 
 into the laundry and locked them in until Miss Pepper- 
 day had released them. 
 
 He was adding to Adelina's narration of Mrs. Pepper- 
 day's collapse when, to every one's relief, Doctor Watkins 
 opened the door and walked in.
 
 310 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 CHAPTER XLI 
 
 THE greetings between Doctor Watkins and the quar- 
 tette of nerve-racked people were mere acknowledgments 
 of each others' presence. In the center of the room he 
 stopped short, his handkerchief running over his eye- 
 glass lenses in palpable indecision. Then, 
 
 "I'm at my wits' end," he uttered, with a dubious shake 
 of his head. 
 
 Such a hackneyed phrase from a man so voluble of 
 speech as Archibald Watkins, augured that it was the 
 forerunner of bad news. 
 
 Several times he broke the silence that followed with 
 a cough and once embarrassedly used his handkerchief. 
 It was evident that he was having an inward struggle to 
 regain his professional aplomb. 
 
 "I can hardly persuade myself, Miss Pepperday," he 
 began in a deprecatory manner, "that you informed your 
 sister-in-law that her son, Michael, would be in from 
 abroad to-morrow?" He hurled the conclusion of his 
 words straight at Adelina interrogatively. 
 
 "Of course, she didn't," Patricia exclaimed swiftly. 
 "Certainly not! My aunt wouldn't think of doing that." 
 
 "But I did, Paddy," Adelina admitted. "Of course Char- 
 lotte didn't believe me, Doctor Watkins. I only told it 
 to quiet her. She didn't believe one word of it. 
 Charlotte isn't as silly as that!" and then she repeated, 
 as though she were talking to herself, "She didn't believe 
 a single word of it." 
 
 Even the confidence her voice gathered as she talked 
 made no impression on the physician. He was just fresh 
 from Charlotte Pepperday 's bedroom. He knew what he
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 311 
 
 knew, and it was his duty to put the matter in an open 
 light before her family. 
 
 "That's where you're mistaken, Miss Pepperday," he 
 protested seriously. "I'm sorry to have to insist that she 
 certainly does believe it." 
 
 "But Michael can't come, Aunt Addie," cried Patricia 
 in tragic accents. "You know that, dear! How could 
 you tell her such a thing." 
 
 Instantly Adelina arose, and a few unsteady steps took 
 her to Doctor Watkins' side. 
 
 "I'll explain just how it came about," she quivered 
 hysterically. "You see, she screamed for him so, I had 
 to tell her something." Then she wheeled around to 
 speak to Patricia. "Paddy, she wouldn't listen when 
 I said you'd be home shortly and that Barney would be 
 in soon from rehearsal. Oh, darling child, " Her voice 
 broke, sank to a whisper and discontinued. 
 
 The pencil, tapping against Doctor Watkins' teeth, sent 
 staccato sounds through the silence. Never before, as he 
 had expressed himself to Shevlin, had he faced such a 
 dilemma. 
 
 Yet, somehow, he must cut the Gordian knot and set to 
 rights the chaos into which his patient had been pitched 
 head foremost. In his opinion Charlotte Pepperday's 
 feeble frame held a soul a saint might envy. Not only 
 his professional skill but a very pronounced personal pre- 
 dilection were engaged in her behalf. His sympathy went 
 out to Adelina, too. The recollection of his own struggle 
 with the blind woman made it quite easy to find excuses 
 for the falsehood that had been told. 
 
 "However, dear lady, don't feel so badly at what you've 
 done," he said. "There! There! Sit down again, and 
 listen to what I must say." 
 
 His touch was very tender as he laid his hand on 
 Adelina's arm. She was crushed with such a weakness
 
 312 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 that she was thankful for the chair which Archibald set 
 out for her. 
 
 "Perhaps," she commenced feebly, "I'd better go up 
 and tell her that I" 
 
 "I beg of you not to do that, Miss Pepperday," the 
 physician cut in. "It would never do." 
 
 If there were a clue to the labyrinth in which they were 
 all groping, certainly he did not expect her to supply it. 
 
 "Mrs. O'Kelleron," he ventured after a while, "your 
 mother has had a severe shock. In all my practice I've 
 never known a case like this. Considering her condition, 
 it was most unwise to make her a promise impossible to 
 keep, especially one so vital. But, of course, I don't 
 want to place too much blame on Miss Pepperday. I 
 feel sure that at the time she never imagined the serious 
 outcome of raising false hopes." 
 
 Humanity was one of Archibald Watkins' chief assets. 
 Moreover, he knew, without being told, that Adelina did 
 not need censure from him. She was suffering enough 
 without it. 
 
 "I'm sure that you didn't mean any harm, Miss Pepper- 
 day," he said lamely. 
 
 "But I can't see what got into me to tell her that yarn," 
 came from her in distraction. "If anything happens to 
 little Charlotte, Michael will never, never forgive me! 
 What have I done ? What shall I do ? " 
 
 More to herself than to any one in the room did she 
 make her last appeal. She, Aunt Addie to the three most 
 beautiful children in the world, had brought upon them a 
 calamity awful in its possibilities. 
 
 "My baby, my Michael, my own, own boy," came in a 
 whisper from her lips. 
 
 Then it was that Patrick O'Kelleron almost jumped 
 into the tragedy himself. John Hullworthy was a new- 
 comer in this afflicted home; no matter how much he
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 313 
 
 wanted to soothe its sorrowing mistress, he had neither the 
 standing nor the ability to do it. 
 
 However, when Patricia struggled to her feet, he ven- 
 tured to touch her arm. 
 
 Without paying any attention to him except to shake 
 off his hand, she centered an intense regard on Doctor 
 Watkins. 
 
 "Will she she die?" she stammered with livid lips. 
 "Oh, Doctor Watkins, tell me do tell me the truth!" 
 
 "I certainly will, my child," was his gentle reply. "I'm 
 always truthful to my patient's relatives. That's one 
 rule to which I hold strictly. Your mother is too weak 
 to be told that she cannot have her son. As I've said 
 before, I'm at my wits' end." 
 
 When Adelina turned her wistful face to Martin, a 
 sharp pain shot through his heart. 
 
 "Martin dear," her lips framed. At least, if he 
 had not heard the words, her woe-begone eyes pulled at 
 him like a magnet at steel. He left his seat and drew a 
 chair up to her side. 
 
 "My dear," he exclaimed miserably, "you did it for the 
 best, and no one can doubt it." 
 
 At that she turned her head and wept softly. She 
 could not deny, however, that she was a wee bit comforted 
 when he covered her shaking hand with fingers strong 
 and warm. 
 
 That there was no best about the situation was not 
 only expressed in the doubtful shake of the doctor's head, 
 but he said so. 
 
 "It would be quite evident to all of you if you had the 
 smallest conception of the savage spell Mrs. Pepperday 
 has had with her heart," he continued with reluctance, 
 "and it's my firm belief that she is holding on by the very 
 slender thread of hope that her son will be here to- 
 morrow."
 
 314 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 Many times in Martin's long and arduous "God 
 save 'em! " work, he had held a woman's hand to help her 
 over rough places, but never had he been so touched, so 
 hurt in a vital way. Yet, Adelina's clutch thrilled him. 
 She had forgiven; she had forgotten. 
 
 "But can't you make some excuses to Mrs. Pepper- 
 day?" he asked the doctor. "Have the boat Mike's sup- 
 posed to be on held up at sea, or something like that." 
 
 "Indeed, Mr. Brewer, I would if I could," the physician 
 replied, curiously affected, "but even that's out of my 
 power. I haven't the smallest excuse. The poor soul 
 believes that the ship has been docked." 
 
 Every pulse in Patricia's body bounded at his avowal. 
 The last prop which could hold up the frail, blind mother 
 had been hacked away ruthlessly. She entertained no 
 reproach for Adelina, no condemnation for any person 
 living. Her bosom was burningly full of sympathy for 
 Yum-yum. With tragic pathos she crossed to the speaker. 
 
 "You must do something for her," she breathed, white- 
 lipped. "Oh, something must be done, Doctor Watkins! 
 It must be!" 
 
 "I can't see what, my dear," he answered sadly, "but 
 now, listen to me!" and he took her cold, limp hand. 
 "I'm not prophesying that she won't get well. What I 
 said was that her disappointment, when she finds that her 
 son doesn't come home, might prove fatal only might, 
 mind you! I want you to be prepared for the worst. 
 She's very weak and physically unable to support another 
 shock." 
 
 His voice ceased, and poignant stillness fell. How, as 
 a reputable physician, could he bolster up hope in the 
 daughter who looked as if some relentless hand had dealt 
 her a death blow. Heaven knew he would if his con- 
 science had been less exacting. Surely, he was at his wits' 
 end. Motionless, he watched Patricia. She was no
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 315 
 
 longer trembling, but her gray eyes burned like coals 
 fanned by an inward flame. She was studying him with 
 an expression he could not fathom. This was one of the 
 times when he wished he were anything but physician-in- 
 chief. He looked down into the girlish face, so thin and 
 colorless, and stretched his lips to smile. But he groaned 
 inwardly, convinced the concern which twisted his mouth 
 awry only added to her wretchedness. 
 
 "Poor child," he said, unnerved. 
 
 Then, "Michael can come home to-morrow," she as- 
 serted with difficulty. 
 
 The impossible fruition of her statement fetched a cry 
 from Adelina. Irresolutely Doctor Watkins shook his 
 head. Women got queer, unreasonable notions at times, 
 but who could blame this poor girl if she left no stone un- 
 turned in her effort to help her mother? 
 
 "You mustn't expect that of the State, Mrs. O'Kel- 
 leron," he told her. "The fact is, on a chance I begged 
 Shevlin to get the lad a leave, but he said it couldn't be 
 done. At any rate it would be useless to bring him here 
 for a day or two. But even if that could be accomplished, 
 the excitement of a short visit merely No, Mrs. O'Kel- 
 leron, in that event, in justice to myself, I must ask to be 
 relieved of responsibility. Heaven knows I want to give 
 her every opportunity, but Now, I'll run upstairs and 
 have a look at my patients. And in the meantime I 
 hope that you will be able to think of something that will 
 give that poor little woman a chance for her life." 
 
 And he whisked out of the room.
 
 3 i6 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 CHAPTER XLII 
 
 OPPRESSIVE was the quiet after the door had closed. 
 Neither the departure of the physician nor the quick snap 
 of the latch impressed Patricia in the least. She stood 
 in the same spot, holding the same posture of immobility. 
 Any conversation among the other three was silenced. 
 How could they conjecture aloud on the probability of 
 Michael's coming home as she had stated when she 
 seemed to have left them in spirit? 
 
 Something very like panic grew in Hullworthy's 
 breast. On the way down the river he had expressed 
 his ardent conviction that her brother was an innocent 
 man and had based sanguine hopes that he would soon 
 be at liberty on the principle that truth cannot forever be 
 hidden. Of course, reliance on his statements had in- 
 fluenced her when she had said, "Michael can come home 
 to-morrow." 
 
 To wrench the lad from prison under present circum- 
 stances would not be a whit more feasible for him than 
 to heave the earth out of its orbit by the pressure of his 
 own shoulder. As John Hullworthy, he was helpless; as 
 Patrick O'Kelleron 
 
 When he had covered the space between them, Patricia 
 stirred and glanced up at him. He almost lost his bal- 
 ance when he saw how ravaged she had become in the 
 last few minutes. 
 
 "Sit down, child," he murmured brokenly. 
 
 A stiffening of her whole body accompanied her gesture 
 of dissent. 
 
 "No, no, I can't sit down," she returned with sudden 
 vehemence. "I've something to tell Martin and Aunt
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 317 
 
 Addie, you, too, and and it'll be easier if I stand up." 
 
 For a moment she became quite incoherent, tearless 
 sobs shaking her. 
 
 "I've been very very wicked," she choked. 
 
 Her stammering confession brought Brewer to his feet. 
 Her lovely face, pinched with tragic wretchedness, and 
 her eyes, widened with horror, struck him as out of pro- 
 portion to any childish indiscretion that might have been 
 on her tender conscience. 
 
 In that anticipatory lull she lifted one hand feebly, 
 and John Hullworthy caught it. Then he passed through 
 all the pangs of hell as she clung to him. Yes, he had 
 seen her suffer before in those cruel Montana days, but 
 nothing nothing like this. 
 
 Once, twice, a third time she attempted to speak, but 
 her cramped throat refused to make an audible sound. 
 
 "My dear, my dear," he groaned huskily, not remem- 
 bering that she had met John Hullworthy but yesterday. 
 
 Oh, the richness of sympathy in his four short words! 
 There was drawn from her torn, inmost heart an over- 
 mastering gratitude. This tall stranger suddenly became 
 the rock of Yum-yum's salvation and the deliverance of 
 the King of the Pepperdays. She had forgotten Martin 
 and Adelina, forgotten everything but that she had a story 
 to tell John Hullworthy. He would listen he would 
 understand ! 
 
 "Michael isn't going to stay in Sing Sing any longer!" 
 she asserted tremulously. "He didn't kill Arthur Brown! 
 I I did!" 
 
 If a bomb had plunged through the window from Park 
 Avenue, and Patricia had been directly in its course, 
 Adelina and Martin could not have been more sponta- 
 neous in their rush toward her. 
 
 John Hullworthy was rooted to his place, rendered 
 mute before the tide of destruction that threatened them,
 
 318 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 but dully denying that this hideous idea could become a 
 reality. 
 
 Then the loving heart of the Pepperdays' Aunt Addie 
 was overcome by its weight of woe. No longer able to 
 stand, she shrank away to hide her grief in the cushions 
 of the divan. 
 
 Brewer's mind shot to Benny. What if if she were 
 speaking the truth, and the boy knew it! Would that 
 account for his hysterical reticence? But was she? He 
 forced himself to stand very still and hold his thoughts 
 in command. To steady himself, he laid his hand on a 
 chair back. Then he compelled his gaze to stay upon 
 her pallid countenance. 
 
 All of a sudden into his consciousness there leaped one 
 of those luminous intuitions, the like of which had guided 
 him to truth when he had sought to solve almost unsolv- 
 able questions. Lady Pat was lying! 
 
 She had virtually given herself up for a deed that he 
 was reasonably certain his own son had committed. To 
 stand by and allow a woman to make such a claim, to 
 keep silent even to save his idolized boy, Great God, he 
 could not be guilty of that! He sent a searching glance at 
 Adelina. She was but a heap among the pillows. Then 
 to the man standing near Patricia his gaze moved. Of 
 them all Hullworthy's lean countenance held the least 
 color, its extreme pallor accentuating his strong jawline. 
 
 As if she were coming out of a subconscious trance, 
 Patricia sighed again and spoke: 
 
 "Oh, how have I lived with my Michael in prison in 
 that awful place for for what I did myself! " She broke 
 off, breathing spasmodically. "I don't know how I did 
 it. I I' 
 
 Perplexed, she was floundering helplessly when Martin 
 caught her darkly glowing eyes and held them. In those 
 pools of stone-gray there shone a high resolution which
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 319 
 
 drew from him a smothered ejaculation. Human nature 
 had always been an open book to him. He had turned 
 its pages and read its problems as a boy recites two and 
 two are four. So did he know the attributes of the God- 
 head. In his sight Paddy Pepperday had suddenly be- 
 come sanctified. On her pale face was stamped sub- 
 lime sacrifice. 
 
 "I was cowardly and, oh, so terribly afraid," he heard 
 her falter on. "When they accused Michael, I let them 
 do it. I couldn't make myself say a word. I tried to. 
 I I think that was what made me so ill." 
 
 In order to shake off the yoke of Brewer's keen-eyed 
 surveillance, she faced about and addressed the other 
 man. 
 
 "I couldn't stand it any longer, Mr. Hullworthy! Of 
 course, you can see I couldn't! Oh, it's haunted me for 
 so many, many months! " 
 
 Instinctively she edged a step nearer him. 
 
 "You you said you'd help my brother," she gulped. 
 "You said you would ! " 
 
 Her voice, trailing away as she repeated his reiterated 
 promise, shook Hullworthy out of his impassivity. His 
 position he shifted slightly but not his steady regard. 
 
 "You have no proof of this this this statement 
 you've made; certainly you have not!" he said. 
 
 She swayed against him, and his arm went around her. 
 
 "Yes, I have," she contradicted, scarcely audible. "Yes, 
 yes, I have." 
 
 His intimate knowledge of the details of the Pepperday 
 case pressed upon him the fact that it was not impossible 
 for her to have done what she had charged against her- 
 self. He was stabbed with an intolerable pain. Mightily 
 he drove his brain to contradict itself and her. 
 
 "You're not telling the truth," he ejaculated. 
 
 To look into her face was impossible, for now her
 
 320 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 head was on his breast. He was so tall, and she so short 
 that he bent a little to catch her answer. 
 
 "Yes, yes, believe me," she breathed laboriously. "I 
 am telling you the truth," and she repeated the words with 
 stronger insistence. 
 
 "But you you had no motive," he stumbled. 
 "What motive could you you have had? Ah, you you 
 had none none!" 
 
 "But I had," she contended. Please let me stand up 
 straight. I'll try and tell it just as it was. They weren't 
 friends, Michael and Arthur. Fatty hated my brother. 
 He told me he was going to to fix Michael. Oh, the 
 King would run around with Babe Foster, and Fatty was 
 in love with her himself. That night, after Martin took 
 me home, I had to go back downstairs for for some- 
 thing, and, when I went up again, I met Arthur in the 
 hall. He stopped and said Mike wasn't treating him 
 right. I begged him " 
 
 "Where did you get the pencil?" Hullworthy demanded. 
 
 "He had it, Fatty," she quivered. "Before we 
 started to quarrel, he asked me to give it to Michael." 
 
 Helplessness gripped Hullworthy. In a twinkling he 
 realized that his interrogations were merely involving her 
 more deeply. He wanted with all the force within him 
 to snatch her up and bear her far beyond the reach of the 
 legal vultures that would soon be wagging their bald 
 heads over her. 
 
 When he silently placed her in a chair, she made no 
 resistance but sat hunched over, her head bowed forward, 
 paying no attention to Adelina's wild weeping. 
 
 Once before had Martin Brewer writhed in the grip of 
 the Almighty God as he was writhing now. The love of 
 truth sent up to his throat a confession which stuck there 
 in a knotty lump. He stood on the very verge of shriek- 
 ing out that his son was the criminal.
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 321 
 
 Delaying that avowal was the fear of what the words 
 would bring down upon the boy's dear head. It huddled 
 him weakly into himself. He no longer believed that 
 every one was responsible for his own deeds. His son 
 was not responsible. Benny had not had one-half a chance 
 in the world. Benny was ill. Benny was a genius! 
 
 Slowly he advanced and stared down upon Patricia. 
 
 After a space she seemed to be aware of his nearness. 
 
 "I've been almost wild thinking and thinking, dear 
 Martin," she said in far-away tones. "It's been only 
 to-day now that I've had the courage to speak." 
 
 Nevertheless, she wavered under his piercing eyes and 
 felt a quick fear take possession of her. 
 
 "Martin," she begged, shuddering, "don't don't look 
 at me so. You frighten me!" 
 
 Sphinx-like in immobility and unresponsiveness, he 
 might have been modeled from stone. The only sign of 
 the battle within him was the radiance of his eyes. 
 
 "Martin," she repeated, rising suddenly, "Martin, 
 dear!" 
 
 For an instant he allowed her to examine and cross- 
 examine his set, mask-like face. 
 
 "You're a great actress, my Paddy," he said then in 
 straight level tones. "By God, Broadway never saw any- 
 thing like you to-day! But your story won't hold water, 
 Lady Pat. You're trying to give Mike back to his 
 mother. You intend saving her life by giving up your 
 own, but you can't do it, for I won't let you. Not by 
 a damned sight!" He grasped her arm as she attempted 
 to speak. "You're wrong, beastly wrong, my girl." 
 
 Sure now of the path he must henceforth tread, he 
 wheeled around. Adelina was crouched on the divan, her 
 face hidden in a pillow. In her he found nothing to 
 meet him half-way. But Hullworthy with one apprais- 
 ing glance he measured his enormous figure.
 
 322 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 "You, sir, you," he boomed, "I imagine you have a 
 wad of sense under your bonnet! Can't you see that 
 this girl's been playing a part? A damned fine magnifi- 
 cent part, I grant you, but a part, just the same! She 
 didn't kill Arthur Brown, and I'll prove it. 
 
 With extended right arm he advanced until a yardstick 
 would have spanned the distance between him and the 
 man he addressed. 
 
 "This," and his left hand touched his right, "this 
 hand this very fist See it?" And he gripped his 
 fingers until their knuckles showed white. "This hand 
 stabbed Fatty Funny Breeches!" 
 
 A scream that shuddered into a sobbing cry came from 
 Adelina, but Martin gave her no heed. 
 
 "When I've explained," he said with heavy emphasis, 
 "it won't be difficult for you to understand that this girl 
 has lied lied, I tell you! I went to Cavendish's twice 
 the night Brown was murdered, once about one o'clock to 
 take Lady Pat home and the second time " 
 
 Speechless, Patricia gaped at him. 
 
 "I won't stand by and let you take my act on your 
 shoulders, Paddy," he thundered passionately. "True, 
 you'll wonder why in hell I didn't confess before. My 
 boy was the reason! Every time I tried to tell it, I 
 remembered him. He's as helpless as an angleworm. 
 He hasn't a soul in the world to care for him but me. I 
 didn't have the nerve, when Michael was arrested, to come 
 forward and own up, but but now you've forced me to 
 it, Paddy." 
 
 Thrilled through to the very center of his being, 
 Patrick O'Kelleron had listened to that violent confession 
 with a sense of awe. Of all the people with whom he 
 was acquainted, he placed Martin Brewer among the 
 very highest. He remembered the man's incomparable 
 work and then then he withered under another memory.
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 323 
 
 That day when Martin had sent for him ! His insistence 
 that Michael Pepperday should not be electrocuted ! He 
 had always taken for granted that Brewer's emotion at 
 that time was because of his love of the Pepperdays. 
 Perhaps, not! 
 
 "What took you to Cavendish's the second time?" he 
 demanded. 
 
 Grateful for the query that brought him to the meat 
 of his story, Brewer's taut muscles relaxed a bit. 
 
 "I went there after my son," he answered promptly. 
 u He was there, and I went to bring him away." 
 
 An ejaculation, involuntary, half-suppressed, from 
 Patricia wheeled him about. 
 
 "I went to Cavendish's to bring him away, Lady Pat," 
 he reiterated. "When I got home, about half-past one, 
 Ben wasn't there. Jackson told me he had driven him 
 down to Cavendish's. So I came down, and it was while 
 I was there that the thing happened." 
 
 Patricia crashed back into the chair as though she had 
 come in contact with a great fist. The large man before 
 her grew so dim she could see but his outline. Her mind 
 was refusing to countenance the image drawn upon it. 
 Martin Brewer, the beloved of thousands, the slayer of 
 Arthur Brown? No! Yet, so he had claimed! He had 
 said it he had owned to it! 
 
 "Did you see your son there?" put in Hullworthy 
 sharply. 
 
 As if a memory insupportable, terrible, had come to 
 him, Martin staggered back. He groaned aloud but re- 
 gained a portion of his self-control and replied unsteadily: 
 
 "Yes, I did. Benny was with Brown, and they were 
 quarreling. Brown was always tormenting the kid. I 
 I took Benny down to the car, and on the stairs he told me 
 how Funny Breeches had called him a human corkscrew. 
 I went back up to talk to Brown about it! God knows,
 
 324 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 when I picked up Michael's pencil, I didn't intend using 
 it" 
 
 Then it all dawned upon Patricia, the meaning of that 
 long speech. Every word burned her with the scorch 
 of fire. 
 
 "Oh, he's telling what isn't true," she screamed, spring- 
 ing up. "Don't believe him, Mr. Hullworthy! I tell 
 you, don't believe him! Martin, you shan't save me 
 that way. You shan't, Martin! Benny was in my room 
 when I got there, and he stayed with me almost two 
 hours. He even went to sleep. Afterwards I sent him 
 home myself. I put him in the taxi. That's why I went 
 down-stairs. Oh, Martin, how splendid how splen- 
 did you are! But you shan't save me that way!"
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 325 
 
 CHAPTER XLIII 
 
 THE blast of an automobile horn outside cut through 
 the deadened hush of the room like a human voice. A 
 boy passing along Park Avenue whistled shrilly, and 
 mingling with his lilting jazz tune, came the jangle of the 
 trademen's bell in the basement. 
 
 As the meaning of Patricia's vehement narration filtered 
 through Martin's mind, a wave of relief swept over his 
 soul, leaving him voiceless. As though petrified, he main- 
 tained his position, his lips slightly apart, his massive 
 head thrown back with imperious command. 
 
 In her stormy, unblinking gray eyes was unvarnished 
 truth. She knew whereof she had spoken, and Brewer 
 was convinced. 
 
 In a few short sentences she had dispersed the hounds 
 of the law from Benny's heels and reinstated him in the 
 full, radiant light of innocence. Down went the wall of 
 reserve between father and son. Away sped the months 
 of the man's agony and suspense, and then there crept 
 about his heart a joy in similitude to that rapturous day 
 in which he had found peace before the model of 
 "The Streams Make Glad." 
 
 Oh, the bitter hours he had wasted in begging God to 
 be God, and then forgetting that the road to harmony 
 could only be traveled in singleness of heart, with con- 
 science clean! In tormenting fear he had shivered from 
 the iteration of "Thy will be done!" to "My will be 
 done mine, Martin Brewer's." 
 
 His will had been to shield Benny behind the pros- 
 trate head of Michael Pepperday, an effort as impossible 
 as it was needless. He recollected with contrition how
 
 326 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 reluctantly he had lent a hand to Patricia's insistent 
 attempt to locate even a thread of evidence that would 
 give her brother one wee chance for liberty. 
 
 Not so long as it takes to tell it, did he reman motion- 
 less, for Patricia voice broke into his profound preoccupa- 
 tion. 
 
 "Send for Benny, please," she entreated hoarsely. "I 
 must see him. Go directly, and telephone him to come 
 down, Mr. Hullworthy." 
 
 But, if he heard her frantic behest, John Hullworthy 
 made no move to obey. He was very pale, nor did he 
 appear to be aware of his surroundings. He was ex- 
 periencing the actual operation of the law, "And they, 
 twain, shall be one flesh." He was kneeling by her side 
 in her Garden of Gethsemane. He was keeping step with 
 her upon the pilgrimage she had chosen. He was pre- 
 pared to go down into the valley of the shadow, if she 
 elected, for he feared no evil. Selfless love sustained 
 him. 
 
 Oddly abstracted, he appeared to Patricia withdrawn 
 somehow, in censure, perhaps! But what her friends 
 might think or do must not be taken into consideration 
 now. She flung around on Miss Pepperday. 
 
 "Please, please telephone for Benny this minute, Aunt 
 Addie," she begged, hardly above a whisper. 
 
 To bring to fruition a wish of one of her beloved 
 children had been Adelina's habit since she had gasped 
 at the triplets on the day of their birth. With an appeal- 
 ing glance at Martin, she arose and for a moment hesi- 
 tated. 
 
 "Hop in the car, and go get him, Addie," he directed 
 grimly, and Adelina fluttered away. 
 
 Then for some unmeasured moments the three were 
 begirt by a rare silence that seemed vocal with significance. 
 
 There shot in among Martin's reminiscences the
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 327 
 
 memory that Paddy Pepperday, in all her lovely girlhood, 
 was a self-accused slayer. His smoldering eyes sought 
 and found her. There she was, so very quiet. Her gray 
 gaze seemed to be centered on nothing. Like himself, 
 she was waiting for Benny. Tears came without warn- 
 ing to his lids. He still believed she was dreaming of 
 bringing freedom to Michael in thrusting herself into the 
 hands of the State. That would be unbearable ! 
 
 "Paddy girl," he exclaimed in a voice rich with emo- 
 tion. 
 
 She moved, looked in his direction, but he knew she 
 did not see him. 
 
 The handkerchief between her slender fingers was in 
 tatters, and it dangled at her side, making split strips of 
 white over her dark skirt. She remained thus a moment, 
 and in that speck of time Martin went close to her. 
 
 "Little Pat, child," he murmured, stung to the quick by 
 her tragic stillness. 
 
 Drawing a long breath, she tottered into the arms he 
 held out, and there against his broad breast her weary 
 head rested. What a dot of a girl she was, not an inch too 
 tall to walk under his arm. Yet those young shoulders 
 were willingly carrying a burden a man would have 
 shuddered from under if possible. In a flash it came 
 to him that he alone might make an appeal which would 
 strike home to her tender heart. 
 
 " 'There is a River the Streams whereof shall make 
 Glad the City of God/ my Pat," he quoted reverently, "and 
 you, dear, are Truth God's Truth you you, child!" 
 
 Michael, the King of the Pepperdays, beautiful David 
 of Judea! And Yum-yum's favorite song! He could 
 not have quoted words that would have more definitely 
 confirmed her purpose. 
 
 "I want to tell you something about my husband, 
 Martin," she began without lifting her head. "He
 
 328 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 Patrick O'Kelleron discovered when we were in 
 Montana it was I who had had " she was endeavoring 
 to pronounce the word "killed," but her slender throat 
 would not emit it. "Patrick knew Michael hadn't 
 hadn't He found out that it was I." 
 
 Although she had spoken with extreme effort, every 
 syllable was heard. With this she had caught Martin 
 in an unguarded moment. Never for a second had he 
 anticipated that she possessed a clinching argument which 
 could obscure the way along which he had intended to 
 lead her. He went dumb as though he had suddenly lost 
 his tongue. 
 
 If he had been less distraught and strengthless, he 
 would never have allowed a strange man to touch her. 
 But John Hullworthy had whipped her out of his embrace 
 before he realized what was happening. He saw the 
 strong hands gripping her shaking shoulders. He saw 
 her lift an agonized face to the countenance above her. 
 
 "Tell me what your husband said," came from between 
 Hullworthy's teeth. 
 
 "He, my husband, suspected me for a long time," her 
 white lips spoke. "Then one morning he he accused 
 me and said he was going to bring me east. Then 
 then I ran away and he Please help me me " 
 
 Before she could finish her appeal, her voice died out. 
 As she watched the tall man, one set of his fingers went 
 to his head, and when they came away there were clutched 
 between them a black wig and a pair of horn spectacles. 
 
 Fascinated, she contemplated the metamorphosis. The 
 laughing countenance she had glimpsed in Blackberry 
 Lane, the joyous aspect of her lover, Stephen, and the 
 strong lineaments of her husband, Patrick, all were 
 there, but transfigured and sanctified, as though Yum- 
 yum's King of Glory had come down to earth to sustain 
 her.
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 329 
 
 "I I am your husband, Patrick O'Kelleron, Patricia," 
 dropped in husky accents into her upturned face. 
 
 Silent shudder after silent shudder swayed her. And, 
 when she sagged into Patrick O'Kelleron's arms, she was 
 unconscious.
 
 330 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 CHAPTER XLIV 
 
 DESPOILED of his wig and spectacles, John Hullworthy, 
 perforce, had gone the way of all flesh. His life had 
 been short, and, if not merry, it certainly had been packed 
 full of great emotions. Like the gallant knights of old, 
 he had lived but to serve his "ladye fayre" and by single- 
 hearted devotion had won an imperishable place in her 
 memory. 
 
 When Patricia had fainted, Patrick O'Kelleron had 
 not delayed for further explanation to Martin Brewer 
 but had carried her to her chamber. There he had hung 
 over her in excruciating anxiety until Doctor Watkins 
 had ordered him out. 
 
 Fortunately, else Martin might also have lost his 
 wits before the miracle of Patrick's resurrection, Frank 
 Shevlin appeared to reassure and explain. 
 
 In the meantime, like a great watchdog, O'Kelleron 
 paced to and fro before Patricia's door, taking no count 
 of the seconds as they lengthened into minutes and the 
 slow minutes into an hour. He heard Adelina Pepperday 
 and Benny Brewer come in, heard them join Brewer 
 and Shevlin in the drawing-room, and paused in his bitter 
 musings long enough to picture their amazement when 
 they learned of his reappearance. 
 
 As he walked, he thought, at first inconsecutively, but 
 more and more clearly, as he strove earnestly for the 
 truth of things. With terrible insistence the questions, 
 "Why?" and "What can I do about it?" confronted him. 
 
 Some one had said, and the saying had impressed him 
 then and recurred to him now, that a man's experience 
 was the externalization of his own thinking. He told
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 331 
 
 himself sardonically that his mind must be a pretty mess, 
 if that were so. Vigorously he repudiated the imputa- 
 tion that he was responsible for the calamities that had 
 fallen upon him, but again and again he returned to that 
 
 claim. 
 
 So inextricably were his own affairs involved in the 
 Pepperdays' that naturally enough they crowded upon his 
 attention. His prosecution of Michael had been greatly 
 commended and was regarded as a brilliant legal achieve- 
 ment. Yet, it had resulted in incalculable harm, not 
 to Michael only, but to every one Michael's life had 
 touched, and a full measure of disaster had rebounded 
 on himself. Could that be right in principle and prac- 
 tice, he questioned, that which had produced only baneful 
 consequences? 
 
 Arraigned at the bar of his own conscience, he found 
 no exceptions to the law, "Thou shalt not kill!" 
 
 That law he had thundered at Michael, and all the 
 time he himself had been striving and urging others to 
 kill Michael! In the very face of his denunciation 
 Madison Pepperday had fallen dead, a victim of his mali- 
 cious efforts! 
 
 "Vengeance is mine, I will repay, saith the Lord," 
 hushed his every time-worn argument, based on social 
 necessity to protect life and property. 
 
 "Judge not, that ye be not judged." 
 
 The slayer needs must suffer punishment for his crime, 
 but where did Patrick O'Kelleron receive his warrant to 
 inflict the penalty? 
 
 Staggered at the revolutionary conclusion he saw him- 
 self approaching, he stopped stock still while he followed 
 his reason in its logical progress. 
 
 The killing of Arthur Brown was one thing. With 
 that he had nothing to do. 
 
 The attempt to kill Michael Pepperday that
 
 332 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 attempt had been his deliberate act! To it he had given 
 the whole force of his personality, every resource of his 
 and of the State's that he could muster. In the light 
 of his present conviction that the lad was innocent, he 
 shuddered with horror at the thought of his own predica- 
 ment had his effort been successful. 
 
 He had served the law of hate, of reprisal and resent- 
 ment, and he had received the rewards of that service! 
 
 Did it make no difference that he had acted consci- 
 entiously and in accordance with the ordinary opinion 
 of mankind? 
 
 In a hot sweat of intense concentration, he dug deeper 
 into consciousness. As one gropes awkwardly in a dark 
 house until his finger touches an electric switch, and lo, 
 all is brightness and light, so O'Kelleron fumbled about. 
 Then there came to him illumination. In quick succession 
 memory turned the spotlight upon the teachings of Him 
 who spoke as never man spake, until he arrived at Paul's 
 lucid corollary, "Love is the fulfilling of the law." 
 
 Ah, that was it! Love for God and man! Perfect 
 love in which there is no fear! 
 
 Sustained by the self-forgetfulness of that love, his 
 wife had not hesitated even when the path led through 
 shame and disgrace to an ignoble death! Her example 
 was at once a lesson and an inspiration. United in spirit 
 with her, in the self-revelation of loving humility, he was 
 in the midst of his thanksgiving for the teaching vouch- 
 safed him when he heard the sound of weeping. It was a 
 call which he was quick to answer. 
 
 He walked softly to the stairs, where he paused and 
 listened. Then he mounted them. The crying had ceased, 
 and no one was in sight when he reached the third floor. 
 
 Then a long sigh from the becurtained cozy-corner 
 under the stairs which led to the servants' quarters was 
 followed by a voice, subdued and quaking.
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 333 
 
 "Oh, George, if I only dast tell Miss Paddy her Michael 
 didn't stick that pencil in Fatty Funny Breeches!" he 
 heard. "Fan's sick all over worryin' about it." 
 
 "Billy's a crook, Fan," came in hoarse tones. 
 
 Instinctively Patrick hushed even his breathing. With- 
 out looking, he knew that the invisible speakers were the 
 girl and the bird who had scurried through the reception 
 hall the day before, when he and Patricia were descending 
 the stairs, and the words she had uttered, stiffened every 
 muscle in his body. 
 
 "Polly wants a cracker." 
 
 "Not a snitch will you get to eat to-day, George," 
 sounded forth the girl's voice. "Ain't you ashamed 
 of yourself thinkin' of your stomach when poor little 
 Paddy Pepperday " 
 
 The voice ceased, and the speaker coughed miserable, 
 short, hacking coughs, as though strong emotion had 
 choked her. 
 
 Then, pulling aside the curtains, Patrick O'Kelleron 
 looked down upon Fancy Cavendish, extended full length 
 on the plush cushions. Until then he had not recalled that 
 she was one of the witnesses at young Pepperday's trial. 
 He recollected now what a struggle he had had to drag 
 anything from her unwilling lips. At length he had 
 passed over her sullen silence as belonging to one afflicted 
 with a feeble mind. 
 
 Through the dim light he could see that she had cen- 
 tered upon him a vacant, unwinking stare. 
 
 Then of a sudden she scrambled to .a sitting position, 
 and the bird fluttered his wins;s and uttered a squawk. 
 Still keeping her eyes upon him, she clutched hold of the 
 parrot and thrust him under a cushion, her face drab 
 with terror. 
 
 "Cat's whiskers!" she gulped. "Where'd you come 
 from, Mr. Blake?"
 
 334 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 Of all the aliases that it had been his fortune to 
 assume, this one, thrust upon him by a half-witted girl, 
 was the most incongruous. Yet, Edward Blake had been 
 mistaken for him by wiser ones than she, and his coffined 
 body was in the O'Kelleron vault. One forefinger went to 
 her mouth. 
 
 "Shush," she hissed, "I've never told a soul about 
 Fatty Funny Breeches, so so don't beat me." 
 
 Into the inclosure O'Kelleron stepped and dropped 
 the curtains behind him. The small recess was dimly 
 shadowed, but he could make out the girl's body 
 crouched against the wall. Her head was swaying back 
 and forth like the pendulum of a clock. 
 
 "Ma's jaw wags," came in smothered tones from under 
 the pillow. "Gold pencil, Fan ! " 
 
 "Oh) you heard that, didn't you, Mr. Blake?" Fan 
 shivered. "George's a cussed mean boy. Most times 
 I'm with little Paddy I hold his mouth shut with my 
 fingers. Once he yapped, 'Gold pencil!' and she went 
 white like grease." Then Fancy groaned audibly. "I 
 bet Billy Foster sent you after George and me." 
 
 "No, he didn't. I came myself," he denied, "and 1 
 heard what you said to your parrot." 
 
 "But I've never said anything to anybody about it 
 but George, Mr. Blake," she whispered. "You can believe 
 me, you can! And I wouldn't to him if he could tell it." 
 
 How to deal with this unfortunate child was a riddle 
 Patrick O'Kelleron could not solve in a minute; so he 
 remained silent. 
 
 "Your bird talks too much," he ventured presently. 
 
 She went perfectly rigid, gasping for breath. 
 
 "I know it! I know it! " she agreed hopelessly. "He's 
 just what ma says he is a plain, damned fool. Some- 
 times he can't seem to understand a word I tell him. 
 When'd you get back?"
 
 "To-day," answered O'Kelleron, "a little while ago." 
 
 "Have you been over to see Billy Foster?" 
 
 "Not yet!" 
 
 "I'm glad to see you first," she confided with a sigh 
 of relief, "awful glad! Billy's mad at me and George, 
 and he said you would be, too. He said, Billy did, that 
 you'd chop off my legs and hack my head square off." 
 
 "What did you do to make him say that?" he ques- 
 tioned. 
 
 "Well it ain't me as much as 'tis George," she ex- 
 plained in a whisper. "I've most knocked the stuffin' 
 out of that bird, but he will yell about that pencil. 
 Billy said I learned it to him, but I can't remember 
 when I did. Ma says George speaks the truth when he 
 keeps sayin' Billy's a crook. I guess he is." Her head 
 sank wearily against her shoulder. "I'm worn out, clean 
 through to my bones, tryin' not to tell Miss Paddy 
 that Mike was with Milly Foster all that night, that he 
 wasn't even in sight when Funny Breeches was hit. Oh, 
 me, oh, my! I'd give her everything I've got outside of 
 George to tell 'er Mike hadn't ought to be in jail." 
 
 Alternating laughs and cries issued from her lips. 
 O'Kelleron bent forward and touched her arm, and she 
 shivered violently. 
 
 "Didn't I tell just what all of you said I should in 
 court?" she pleaded, anxious for a word of commendation. 
 "Wasn't I careful not to let 'em snitch a word that'd 
 take the blame off'n Mike?" 
 
 "Yes, yes, you were; you certainly were," he ac- 
 knowledged, every nerve in his body on the jump. "But, 
 Fancy, Foster lied when he told you I'd hurt you! You 
 surely didn't believe it?" 
 
 "Yes, sir, I did, and how could I help it? The marks 
 you made on me that night, when I said I wouldn't help 
 blame Michael, stayed for weeks. Ma saw 'em, and I
 
 336 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 told her George did it. And the way you went after Miss 
 Milly, when you said she must keep Mike with 'er till 
 morning, was something scand'lous." As though the af- 
 fair were nothing new, she went on, "Lordy, how you acted 
 after you and Bill lugged that big whale of a Fatty out 
 dead and dumped 'im in the hall!" 
 
 "Well, it's over now, child," soothed O'Kelleron, "and 
 I regret I was so harsh. Have you seen Billy Foster 
 lately?" 
 
 When she shuddered, he knew she had. 
 
 "Yes, sir, to-day," she admitted, "and my Polly hates 
 him worser'n dirt. They had an awful fight this after- 
 noon. And every tail feather is out of my poor bird. 
 If I hadn't bit a piece off'n Billy's arm, he'd a had 
 George's neck twisted. You see Billy thought all the time 
 George was dead. Until I brung him here, I had 'im hid 
 up at Benny Brewer's house, and to-day I forgot about 
 that and took 'im to ma's to see if I'd lammed the life out 
 of Mr. Clark with the tongs. Oh, dear, my head aches 
 fit to split." 
 
 Again Patrick O'Kelleron laid his hand on her arm, 
 but, somehow, she seemed less frantically afraid. 
 
 "Poor, little, exhausted mite! Come over here, next 
 to me," he begged. "No matter what Foster said, I shan't 
 hurt you." 
 
 "Won't you hurt George, either?" she faltered. 
 
 "No, no, of course, I won't! There! Now, rest a 
 minute, and don't cry any more. After a while I'll go get 
 you something that will take away your headache." 
 
 Fancy collapsed against his arm. Edward Blake 
 had been kept so constantly before her as a destroying 
 power that it had never occurred to her that he could be 
 other than brutal. To feel that neither she nor George 
 need fear for their lives was, as she whispered to her- 
 self, "A blessed relief!"
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 337 
 
 Finally she began once more : 
 
 "Bridget told me Paddy Pepperday fainted away while 
 I was at ma's, because Mike's bein' kept up the river. 
 I suppose you wouldn't dare tell 'er he never killed Funny 
 Breeches?" 
 
 "I will," gasped O'Kelleron. "Yes, I will right 
 away!" 
 
 For a long time she scratched her head in meditation, 
 and the man waited in a torture of impatience, difficult to 
 control. 
 
 "I can't see how you can do it," she uttered pres- 
 ently with a spasm of trembling. "Billy and his sis- 
 ter are always afraid I'll squeal, but, of course, I would'nt. 
 While you've been gone, I've did everything Billy's 
 asked me because you said I must. Only I couldn't 
 pull off George's head just because he knew more'n he 
 ought to! Why, I traipsed way over to ma's last night 
 to tell Bill Miss Paddy was goin' away to-day and Mr. 
 Clark could come along and get his wife." 
 
 Although every muscle in Patrick O'Kelleron's body be- 
 came rigid, he merely drew the frail young speaker closer 
 to him. 
 
 "Oh, I'm so scared," she whimpered. "I guess you'll 
 get pinched, and so'll all the rest of us eh?" 
 
 "Never mind that, little one," fell from O'Kelleron's 
 tight lips. 
 
 As yet she had not spoken the guilty man's name, and 
 he simply ached to ask her questions. 
 
 "Did you hurt Mr. Clark much?" he queried. 
 
 "Yes, he's in bed," she returned, "and Aunt Addie 
 broke his beautiful nose. He was always proud of that 
 face of his'n, was Mr. Clark. Milly Foster laughed at 
 him and said his mug looked like a busted ripe tomato, 
 and you could hear 'im groan all over the place. Ma 
 says, ma does, that it's hellish luck to have to run an
 
 338 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 actors' lodgin' house, and so 'tis! There's always some- 
 one sick or drunk around." 
 
 O'Kelleron had a sudden, hysterical desire to laugh. 
 
 "I only hit him because he poked Yum-yum," Fancy 
 trailed on. "I'd thought all the time, till I saw him do 
 that, he wasn't so bad. He said his wife wanted to live 
 with him, and other folks wouldn't let him even see 'er. 
 Billy said, if I didn't keep watch and tell 'im when she was 
 alone, he'd tell you about it when you got back, and 
 you'd put me right where you put Funny Breeches, 
 right in the grave! " 
 
 All in a tremble, she sat up. 
 
 "But if you tell 'em you stuck Mike Pepperday's pencil 
 clean through Funny Breeches You must've been 
 soused proper, or you wouldn't have stabbed him just 
 because he said you cheated in a card game. I ain't 
 supposed to tell it, but Billy says you had an ace hid 
 out." 
 
 Stinging tears blinded O'Kelleron's eyes. He got to 
 his feet and lifted Fancy bodily into his arms and walked 
 into the hall. So utterly weary was the girl that she 
 did not raise her head as he bore her swiftly into his 
 own suite of rooms. Possessed of a single idea, he gave 
 no attention to the familiar surroundings, although this 
 had been his sanctum ever since he was a young lad. He 
 placed Fancy in a chair and sat down beside her. 
 
 Then she sighed and looked at him. In three or four 
 seconds she changed from a limp, tired child into a wild- 
 eyed, startled creature. 
 
 "Why, you ain't Mr. Blake," she cried, and then she 
 clapped both hands to her mouth. 
 
 "Mr. Blake is dead," he said. "He's dead and buried." 
 
 Her fingers went tremblingly to her brow. An expres- 
 sion of perplexity came into her light eyes as she scruti- 
 nized his face minutely.
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 339 
 
 "I've seen you before somewhere, but I can't think 
 of the place now," she whined. "Oh, sir, please slip me 
 your name before I go batty." 
 
 In the full realization that this child-woman held in 
 her thin, small hands the only key that would open Sing 
 Sing prison for Michael Pepperday, he made no answer. 
 
 As though she remembered his kindness under the 
 stairs, she did not shrink when his large hand smoothed 
 over her hair. 
 
 "I'm Paddy Pepperday's husband," he answered quietly 
 at last. 
 
 Fancy's posture changed in a twinkling. She poised 
 on the edge of her chair as though she were about to 
 fly away any instant. 
 
 "That can't be," she contradicted slowly. "It can't 
 be! Billy Foster told me how tickled he was because 
 Miss Paddy's man was all blowed to pieces." She paused 
 and then crumpled back with a sharp cry. "Now, I get 
 it! Now, I've got it! You're the man I lied to in court." 
 
 "I'm Paddy Pepperday's husband, just the same," he 
 repeated, "and it's most wicked to keep Michael shut up." 
 
 "That's so," she broke in passionately, "but I was so 
 scared of Mr. Blake and Billy, or he'd been out long 
 ago. Say, are are are you cryin'? My Lordy me, 
 don't do that!" 
 
 And as true as the world stands, there were large tears 
 rolling down Patrick O'Kelleron's cheeks. 
 
 "I wonder how much you you love little Paddy Pep- 
 perday," he groaned. 
 
 "Oh, more'n any one else in this blasted old world," 
 she asserted promptly. "Ma threw it in my face this very 
 day that I loved Miss Paddy's little finger better'n I did 
 her whole body, and I do, sir, oh, I do." 
 
 "And no one can help her but you, dear child! If 
 if you really care for her that much "
 
 340 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 Suddenly his face dropped into his hands. 
 
 So long had Fancy been mother to George that mater- 
 nal love was strong within her. At the sight of the 
 man's shaking shoulders, she slipped to her knees beside 
 him, and one of her slender arms fell around his neck. 
 
 "Fan's here to help you, mister," she comforted. "Don't 
 cry any more, please don't! Fan's goin' to take care of 
 you and Miss Paddy just like she takes care of George. 
 And I'll go down with you to the court any time you say 
 and tell the whole damn, nasty story just as 'twas!" 
 
 "Oh, God, how I thank Thee," came in one sharp 
 ejaculation from Patrick O'Kelleron, and on the finish 
 of that prayer he snatched Fancy into his arms, and away 
 they went to Martin Brewer and Frank Shevlin.
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 341 
 
 CHAPTER XLV 
 
 IN Patricia's darkened chamber Doctor Watkins was 
 seated beside her, his finger on her pulse. She lay very 
 quiet, studying his face. 
 
 "I'll wager you feel better after that sleep, young 
 lady," he remarked. "You've been going it for hours. 
 I'd almost come to the conclusion that you intended 
 sleeping through the night." 
 
 "You made me swallow something bitter," she began. 
 
 "I surely did," he interrupted. "The state of nerves 
 you were in after your aunt had told you about your 
 brother needed something, my dear." 
 
 "But it will cheer you up to know," he added, "that, 
 while you were snoozing, your mother has been improving 
 by leaps and strides." 
 
 "I'm very glad," she murmured, "and, oh, what about 
 my brother, Michael?" 
 
 "He'll be here to-morrow on the jump, and every one's 
 shouting with glee," proceeded the doctor, smiling. "A 
 man named Foster and his sister have been arrested and 
 have confessed their part in the Brown murder. Of 
 course, Edward Blake's death " 
 
 That Adelina Pepperday had not omitted this ghastly 
 detail was evidenced by Patricia's involuntary gesture of 
 repugnance. 
 
 Quick to take the hint, the doctor picked out a pleas- 
 anter subject. 
 
 "Frank Shevlin is with the District Attorney, ar- 
 ranging things for Michael's release. All your friends 
 are holding their breaths till you finish your nap to have 
 a regular jollification."
 
 342 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 There was another name on her lips, but she had 
 not the courage to pronounce it. 
 
 "John Hullworthyis Stephen. My husband is alive, and 
 it isn't possible that he loves me," stormed her soul with 
 a faintness that told Doctor Watkins without words 
 what a bad time she was having. 
 
 "Listen to me, my dear," he said solemnly. "If 
 you're going to cry, I shall have to scold you. Then I 
 won't have time to tell you all the good news." 
 
 "Oh, doctor dear," she whispered wofully, "I just 
 can't help it; I can't help crying. Please forgive me!" 
 
 "I will, if you'll stop," was the paradoxical rejoinder. 
 
 "There, wipe your eyes, and be a good girl. I don't 
 want to have to give you any more medicine. 
 
 "Why, Nancy Clark has insisted for more than an 
 hour that I wake you up. She wants to tell you that 
 Alexander is dead. There! I popped that out pretty 
 sudden, didn't I? My wife's always taking me to task be- 
 cause I can't think twice before I speak once. But never 
 mind! That's the only bit of calamitous news I have. 
 Alex is better off where he is ! When they arrested Miss 
 Foster, he shot himself. Nancy says it's the only real 
 favor he's conferred on her since she married him." 
 
 After fumbling fussily in his pocket for a moment, he 
 extended a sealed envelope. 
 
 "Mr. Brewer left this note for you when he and 
 your aunt left late this afternoon," he observed. "Here, 
 I'll rip it open." 
 
 When he had handed her the inclosure, she was forced 
 to dab her eyes several times before she could make out 
 anything but blurred lines across the paper. Then she 
 read:
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 343 
 
 "Dear little pal: 
 
 "Congratulations on our not breaking into jail! 
 
 "Forgive me for not asking your consent before I 
 take your Aunt Addie off and marry her, but you're sound 
 asleep; so I can't. 
 
 "I know that I have won the noblest woman in the 
 world. When I think of my cowardly treatment of her, 
 my Addie, I am covered with shame, and this confession 
 gives me the opportunity to say further, Paddy, that your 
 womanly treatment of Benny at Cavendish's Labor Day 
 night stands out in the child's mind with startling clear- 
 ness. 
 
 "He and I have talked the thing over from beginning 
 to end. Poor little kid! He was as solemn and soulful as 
 a time-honored saint when he told me that you had prom- 
 ised each other never to tell any one, not even me, that he 
 went to see you, and that, as long as he lived, he would 
 hold those two hours with you as the most sacred of his 
 life. He is quite reconciled to an operation in the fall and 
 sends congratulations and love to you. 
 
 "Addie assures me that you will forgive my cowardice 
 without my asking it, but, of course, I cannot close this 
 without imploring you to consider my profound love for 
 my boy. It's unnecessary for me to say that I regret my 
 weakness, and that I look forward to hearing from your 
 own lips that you have forgiven it. 
 
 "I wouldn't have a minute to get married for the next 
 week if I wrote what I think of Patrick O'Kelleron. I 
 don't need to. You've lived with him and know. 
 
 "Oh, my Paddy beautiful, how joyful I am for you, for 
 all of us. 
 
 "Affectionately, 
 
 "MARTIN"
 
 344 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 Below the signature was a hasty scrawl in Adelina's 
 handwriting. 
 
 "Darling: 
 
 "I'm taking Benny and Fancy and George while I'm 
 getting married to Martin. They are going to stand up 
 with us. 
 
 "Then we'll go to Balmville to-night because I'm wor- 
 ried about Miranda. But we'll be back to-morrow to see 
 Michael. Mr. Shevlin says he'll have him home free by 
 noon. 
 
 "Dear, I'm such a happy woman! Fancy is wriggling 
 with excitement to get away, and Martin is, too, for that 
 matter, so I'll stop. Your mother is as quiet as a lamb 
 and all eyes for the coming of our dear boy. I wanted 
 Martin to wait to be married till you could go with us, 
 but no, he says we've waited too long already. 
 
 "Fondest love, 
 
 "AUNT ADDIE. 
 
 "P. S. I'm borrowing your hat with the flowers on it, 
 the red flowers. I don't want Martin to think he's 
 marrying his grandmother, so I'll leave my old bonnet 
 here. Martin says I look like you in the hat." 
 
 The paper slipped from Patricia's hand. She was 
 glad for Aunt Addie and Martin. If two people ever 
 deserved to be happy, they did! 
 
 "Brace up, little lady," advised the doctor. "That was 
 a miracle served up on your table, my dear. I mean 
 your husband " 
 
 Ah, that was true, and Patrick O'Kelleron was her 
 husband. The memory of him in Blackberry Lane rose 
 up before her. Her happy days in Butte sped on quickly 
 to the hour in Idaho Falls when she herself had made it
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 345 
 
 impossible for him to hold her in esteem. Without that, 
 his love had perished, of course! 
 
 To-morrow she would have to begin life over again. 
 To-morrow would bring a greater problem to solve than 
 had ever been presented to her. As soon as Yum-yum 
 could be moved, she would leave Patrick's home. But 
 where in the world would she be able to tolerate life with- 
 out Stephen? She was so busy reconstructing images 
 that tortured her that she did not hear the door open, nor 
 did she notice that somebody tiptoed in. 
 
 But Archibald Watkins quickly recognized the intru- 
 der and as quickly got to his feet. 
 
 "Ha," he coughed so strangely in a long-drawn-out 
 emphasis that Patricia looked at him. Archibald had of- 
 ten wished that the earth would swallow him up before he 
 grew too old to appreciate true love! Romantic old soul! 
 Never could that calamity happen ! The love of love was 
 the basic principle of his life. He was trying to frame 
 a befitting speech for this auspicious occasion. 
 
 When Patricia saw Patrick, she stared at him, ex- 
 tremely pale. 
 
 Red-brown eyes, instead of round, dark glasses, 
 searched her with insistent gaze, and in that pulsing silence 
 did she fully realize her love for the man whom she felt 
 sure she had lost. 
 
 Doctor Watkins "ha-ed" more loudly than before. 
 He had a mouthful of oratory, all about married felic- 
 ity, when he became suddenly embarrassed. 
 
 "I'm at my wits' end," flashed into his head, but he did 
 not say it. No man could be at the end of his wits in 
 the presence of such a splendid pair of lovers. He would 
 beam upon them add a bessing and He did manage 
 to smile, and, of course, the smile opened his mouth. 
 
 "It's a long lane that has no turning, little lady," 
 he ejaculated and bolted out of the room.
 
 346 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 
 
 Then, step after step, and slow steps they were, brought 
 Patrick O'Kelleron nearer and nearer. 
 
 "I know what you've come to say," she contrived to 
 stammer, "but I wish you wouldn't now!" 
 
 Utterly fatigued, and so ashamed, she hid her face 
 in the pillow. Her shoulders gleamed white through the 
 thin silk of her nightrobe, and a tantalizing curl embraced 
 a small ear. 
 
 "But I must say it, Patricia," he insisted with the Hull- 
 worthy huskiness. 
 
 "Then I'll get up immediately if you'll please go 
 out," with a small sob. 
 
 "But why should I leave my wife even for a minute, 
 after all I've been through without her?" he cried. "I 
 shan't go away! So there!" 
 
 The finish of his words was but a boyish spurt of 
 impatience, and Patricia, thinking she understood, passed 
 it over. 
 
 "Oh, I'm not your wife any longer," she wailed from 
 the folds of white linen. "A wife why, a wife isn't the 
 kind of a woman I am. A wife a wife wouldn't do what 
 I did in Montana." 
 
 To see such a man as Patrick O'Kelleron, a man whose 
 jaw seemed chiseled from steel, tremble like a child, was 
 pathetic, indeed. There had been small hope in her words 
 that grew to greater proportions during his hesitation. 
 
 Suddenly he bent and slipped his arm around her and 
 drew her dark head to his breast and held it there. 
 
 "Barney told me how you suffered over your father, 
 and it was appalling," he whispered brokenly. "Oh, my 
 birdie, don't you love me even a little bit?" 
 
 The flower of love ventured to unfold a few more 
 petals. She raised her head and looked at him. 
 
 "Stephen," she faltered, "Stephen! Do you mean you 
 forgive me? Oh, do you mean that you want me back?"
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF PATRICIA PEPPERDAY 347 
 
 Boyish tears gathered in O'Kelleron's eyes. 
 
 "Want you? I shan't even try to live without you!" 
 he exclaimed. "My Patricia, my wife, my darlingest 
 dear! Oh, please try and love me!" 
 
 Then two slender arms went up and around his 
 neck. 
 
 "I don't need to try," she sighed blissfully, and a 
 silence, deep and unspeakably sweet, fell upon them.
 
 STORM COUNTRY POLLY 
 
 By GRACE MILLER WHITE 
 
 Cloth. 12mo. 
 
 The opening scenes in this novel by the author of "Tess of the 
 Storm Country," are laid in a squatter settlement on the shore 
 of Lake Cayuga. The situations are tensely emotional and 
 adroitly handled, and Polly herself, crude and untaught, but 
 beautiful in face and fine in spirit, is an adorable heroine. 
 
 "A story of tensity, movement and legitimate emotion." 
 
 Philadelphia Public Ledger. 
 
 "Mrs. White is a charming writer and an excellent plot builder." 
 
 Brooklyn Standard Union. 
 
 "The story is skillfully told, and the plot engages attention." 
 
 Syracuse Post-Standard. 
 
 "It will at once be recognized that this novel is by the author 
 of 'Tess of the Storm Country,' and therefore it will have strong 
 recommendation from the start ... It is a story quite worth 
 the reading." Utica Observer. 
 
 "The situations . . . are tensely emotional, skillfully intro- 
 duced and adroitly handled. The reader's sympathy with 
 'Polly' and her people never falters throughout the rapid action 
 of the story." Cincinnati Times-Star. 
 
 "The style is human and pleasing, and it holds one's interest to 
 the end." Louisville Times. 
 
 "The story makes excellent reading and is an interesting study 
 of this remarkable young woman who, with all her crudeness, 
 exhibits exceptional characteristics and ends by being loved by 
 the reader." Harrisburg Patriot. 
 
 LITTLE, BROWN & CO., PUBLISHERS 
 34 BEACON STREET, BOSTON
 
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