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 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY
 
 1 am past pnde."
 
 THE 
 IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 NINA WILCOX PUTNAM 
 
 Aulhtr / 
 
 IN SEARCH OF ARCADY 
 
 Illustrated by 
 
 ARTHUR I. KELLER 
 
 INDIANAPOLIS 
 
 THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY 
 PUBLISHERS
 
 COPYRIGHT 1913 
 THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY 
 
 PRESS OF 
 
 BRAUNWORTH & CO. 
 
 BOOKBINDERS AND PRINTSRS 
 
 BROOKLYN, N. Y.
 
 To 
 
 R. F. P, 
 
 22290S9
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 Chapter Page 
 
 I OF INTRODUCTIONS 1 
 
 II A BELIEF IN SIGNS ....... 18 
 
 III A Loss AND A FIND 40 
 
 IV THAT WHICH Is No ROBBERY 57 
 
 V Two MEETINGS . ... : . . 80 
 
 VI THE PEOPLE DOWN-STAIRS 102 
 
 VII A PARTY IN THE ALLEY . .. ... ... . . 112 
 
 VIII OF REVOLUTIONARY SAVOR . , ; . m ... . 136 
 
 IX THE LADY OF MYSTERY >.; ; . : ... . . 158 
 
 X CONCERNING BOHEMIA ... > : > ; , . . 185 
 
 XI SUNDRY ADVENTURES . . . -. : : . : . . 213 
 
 XII A COMPROMISE > ; >, > . 250 
 
 XIII SOME ADVENTURES WITH VARIATIONS w .., -. 268 
 
 XIV To THE RESCUE 300 
 
 XV SNOW AND DOGS AND THINGS ..... 314 
 
 XVI A BYZANTINE PRINCESS . . > . . . 326 
 
 XVII PLOTS . . . . . . .... 345 
 
 XVIII AND COUNTERPLOTS ....... 359 
 
 XIX A MOMENTOUS EVENING ....;... 373 
 
 XX THE BEGINNING 386
 
 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY
 
 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 OF INTRODUCTIONS 
 
 ""\7" OU see, Mr. Jones, so many people are in- 
 _I_ troduced, who never really meet," said 
 Pedro, "that it seems a pity those who could meet 
 have to wait for an introduction, eh ?" 
 
 Mr. Jones stopped licking his front paws, and 
 raised his head, the tip of his nose twitching at- 
 tentively. For several moments he looked at Pedro 
 with an unwavering stare, and then, as though sud- 
 denly remembering what he had been about, re- 
 sumed the lavatorial process. It might be men- 
 tioned in passing that Mr. Jones was a small brown 
 bear, fat, young, and intelligent. 
 
 Pedro rolled over in the dried yellow grass, lux- 
 uriating in its warmth, and in the poignant odor of 
 autumn foliage turned to flame by long absorption 
 of the summer sun. On either hand the meadow 
 
 I
 
 2 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 rolled away in golden brown waves; here to a sky- 
 line topped by silhouetted corn-stacks; there to 
 where, distantly, a scarlet trolley-car was speeding 
 along the dusty highway. Still farther off lay Long 
 Island Sound, seen dimly through the haze. The 
 day was one of those, filled with a spirit of yearning, 
 which stirs the imagination, encourages tender mel- 
 ancholy, and gives impetus to the search after the 
 indefinable that search which lurks forever fugi- 
 tive in the human consciousness. The pale blue sky 
 seemed closer than usual, and the soft cool air 
 stirred the very heart of suggestion. To the youth 
 lying in the stubby grass, life seemed just now to 
 hold all too many possibilities, and he was filled 
 with a sort of self-pity, because he could not grasp 
 them all. 
 
 Although it was only mid-afternoon, he had al- 
 ready stolen away from Beau- Jean, Rico, and the 
 others, in order to fight out the battle of an im- 
 portant decision in privacy. But now that he was 
 alone with his problem and his bear, he found him- 
 self afraid of the former, and to put off the evil 
 moment when he must think in good earnest, he 
 talked to the animal. Mr. Jones, having satisfied 
 himself that his paws were immaculate (as bear-
 
 OF INTRODUCTIONS 3 
 
 paws go), had fallen to biting his chain in a medi- 
 tative manner, which was not indicative of resent- 
 ment induced by the sign of his captivity, but mere- 
 ly a sort of ruminative habit he had. The lad 
 reached out a slim brown hand and took up one of 
 the newly laved paws. 
 
 "How do you do, Mr. Jones?" said he solemnly. 
 "I am delighted to meet you! That's how they do 
 it, eh ? Now, I call it silly that some one has to say 
 a charm before two others are permitted to make 
 an inquiry after the health! What do you think, 
 Mr. Jones?" 
 
 The bear gave a little grunt and thrust his nose 
 into the boy's palm. 
 
 "Ah! I knew you would agree," exclaimed 
 Pedro. He gave the creature's ear an affectionate 
 tweak and then spread his slender length upon the 
 ground again. 
 
 "I liked that girl," he continued aloud, "you 
 should have seen her, Mr. Jones; she had red hair. 
 Not horrid red, but red-gold like, like joy! All 
 crisp and curling it was. And such a beautiful pale 
 face. She looked at me, you must know, but I did 
 not dare to speak, because she would not have an- 
 swered, and that would have been a tragedy. Why
 
 4 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 should she speak to a ragged young man to whom 
 she had never been introduced? Of course, she 
 would not! I wish she had, though, because I 
 liked her . . . But I could look at her. That 
 was something!" 
 
 The bear cocked its head to one side and smiled 
 moistly. 
 
 "It was this morning, while I was persuading 
 that shoemaker beyond to exchange good leather 
 for an indifferent song," continued Pedro, "she 
 walked past the shop with her head in the air, step- 
 ping daintily across the dust to a great automobile 
 of exceeding redness. There was a line, amigo mio, 
 from her chin to the base of her throat ah !" 
 
 He rolled over again, burying his face in his 
 folded arms. One long sigh escaped him, and then 
 a second, for the mention of that beautiful line from 
 breast to chin had reawakened his subdominant 
 problem the problem of his future, and of his life- 
 work. Happy as he was, he could no longer put off 
 a decision regarding it. The craving to get at the 
 occupation nearest his heart had been gathering 
 strength these many months past and was now 
 straining at the leashes of his will, tearing him from 
 one dearly loved way of life to another, scarcely
 
 OF INTRODUCTIONS 5 
 
 tried, yet which called him ceaselessly. Was he to 
 continue free (a mere dancer of bears) but free? 
 Or should he at last become a painter, chained to his 
 work by ties as strong as those which held his bear, 
 for all they would be invisible? 
 
 Before his mental vision arose the phantom of 
 what he would fain interpret and depict . . . 
 The spires of cities, smoke from the altars of com- 
 merce, teeming multitudes of men and women. 
 Shops' lights, color, movement, broad boulevards 
 adorned by the equipages of the rich ; narrow alleys 
 where the poor jostled and bartered at push-carts in 
 the murky flare of lamps ; visions of broad roof-tops, 
 spreading acre on acre, mile on mile a veritable 
 ocean of roofs stretching far as eye could see, cov- 
 ering more pain and passion than the heart could 
 know, more colored with joy than the hand could 
 depict. And the boats of travel, of trade, on errands 
 of pleasure or of war. Gleaming, they slipped 
 through the night with music; portentous, they 
 loomed through the fog, speaking hoarsely their 
 warning to each other. Again a stretch of roof-tops 
 giants, on whose heads the sky seemed to rest: 
 pinnacles of faith, diversified and of many creeds; 
 and still taller pinnacles, reared to Mammon. Wet
 
 6 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 streets gleaming beneath a million lamps. Like the 
 black shadows cast of clouds, the people, massing, 
 separating, remassing upon the pavements. For an 
 instant he seemed to hold the Empire City, its life, 
 its very soul, in his two hands, and of it molded a 
 presentation of Truth. With a start he knelt upright, 
 stretching his arms wide in ecstasy. 
 
 The bear, who had fallen asleep, was disturbed 
 by the sudden movement of his master, and when 
 no apology was forthcoming, and no attention paid 
 him, thrust an affectionate inquiring snout into the 
 youth's side. With an incoherent exclamation, Pedro 
 dropped his visioning, and looking upon the bear, 
 the dear familiarity of every-day things swept over 
 him with an emotion that was no less poignant for 
 being narrower than the one that had preceded it. 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Jones!" he cried, throwing his arms 
 about the animal and hugging it to him. 
 
 How could he let go the infinite variety of every 
 day? Ah! he could not] it was impossible! Re- 
 nounce the long white road that led to nowhere, 
 yet which brought one to a new place each hour? 
 Renounce the nights spent beneath the open heavens : 
 the sweet summer nights among the meadow flow- 
 ers; the winter twilights, when he and the bear
 
 OF INTRODUCTIONS 7 
 
 cowered down together in the hay of a lonely barn, 
 or if they were rich, procured the privilege of a 
 tavern kitchen with the spoils of the evening's per- 
 formance! Oh, blessed days of journeying among 
 simple adventures, tramping all through the noon, 
 or loafing long hours and dreaming! Now, it was 
 a group of children, laughing for glee at Mr. 
 Jones' dancing, then a curious crowd in a sordid 
 village street, enticed into merriment and self- 
 forgetfulness by his antics. At another time, Mr. 
 Jones, sedate and full of decorous tricks, was 
 solemnly exhibited to the inhabitants of a great 
 country house, where the governess gave him 
 money gingerly and kept her charges at a safe dis- 
 tance, while in the background giggling maids, 
 white aprons fluttering in the breeze, watched half- 
 afraid. And there were the road houses at night, 
 where laborers of the district came, and others, too 
 coachmen, and men servants and delinquent hus- 
 bands of the townswomen. Here he and the bear 
 would dance the "coquette" (learned in Paris), to 
 the accompaniment of uproarious applause; and the 
 harvest was rich, thrown clinking into the apron of 
 Old Nita, one of the little troupe to which he be- 
 longed. Ah ! those were the gay nights !
 
 8 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 Past the last few months his thoughts flew back 
 to journeyings far and wide: white roads of Lor- 
 raine, a theatrical little village near Naples, where 
 Mr. Jones had worsted a rival in combat for honors 
 on a market day; Holland, where the bear had 
 stolen the little wooden shoe from the tulip-selling 
 girl, and where they met the gigantic Beau-Jean, 
 and he, with his wife, Guneviere, and the great 
 grizzly Koko, had joined them. That made a com- 
 pany of six, for already there was Rico, his bear 
 and his Anna, and Nita that wicked Old Nita, 
 who danced the "coquette" herself when they, bears 
 and all, went late one night to the Bal Bodin in 
 Montmartre. How funny she had looked, dancing, 
 with her shapeless old mouth a-smiling! 
 
 Tramp steamers ! The smell of them came sharp- 
 ly across the autumn wind. How horrible they 
 were, yet how delightful, for they meant getting 
 to new places! Weeks of motion, stowed in a 
 little space with your fellow-creatures and with 
 the bears, till you yourself became like an animal. 
 Weeks of motion and of stench, and then at last the 
 dying of the engine-throb, the crowding and the 
 jostling, and the great rush out upon the shore of 
 some new land. On such a voyage it was that
 
 OF INTRODUCTIONS 9 
 
 Carlos and Hermania had joined them, bringing a 
 cinnamon bear, who they said could "sing," though 
 from that day to this no one had heard him do it. 
 
 Where had not these eight been what roads 
 they had traveled together under sun or moon ! 
 Down among the palms of Florida, tramping the 
 long beaches, dancing for human puppets, trim as 
 dolls, unreal, exquisite, who had thrown gold to 
 them in the sand. Or up in Maine, in the hard bleak 
 country, where the farmers, looking at them askance, 
 would scarcely render a night's lodging. It had 
 proved a barren land, devoid of all that nourishes 
 performing bears, and a lean party had turned 
 southward at close of summer. 
 
 How they had tramped along the Road to No- 
 where, the Road to Maybe! First, Beau-Jean, 
 chained to Koko, the great grizzly ; Beau-Jean with 
 his great head bent beneath the pack upon his back, 
 and beside him his wife Guneviere, a Roumanian 
 woman, squat and of sturdy build. Then Anna, 
 hastening southward two steps ahead of her mate, 
 in eager discontent Next Rico, chained to their 
 bear, both of them sullen, and at times dangerous. 
 After them came Carlos and Hermania, solicitous 
 of their animal, which they fed before they them-
 
 io THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 selves ate. And Nita then, who went along mum- 
 bling, usually with a rosary in her hand, a constant 
 saying of which she hoped would save her from 
 the devil, which her old eyes betrayed. Lastly, him- 
 self, Pedro, who often lagged behind to examine 
 some wonder of the roadway, or to gaze down a 
 vista, opened suddenly by a turn of the path. Some- 
 times he ran ahead, sometimes trod slowly beside 
 Old Nita, listening to her murmured tales of a wild 
 youth, her fear of hell, and her fierce pride in her 
 evil achievements. And always there was Mr. 
 Jones, the well-beloved, shambling at his heels. 
 
 This host of memories Pedro felt in their essence, 
 in a single breath, as it were, bereft of detail save 
 for some picture of a small incident or two, trivial, 
 but never to be forgot. The heart of that past 
 life he held for a moment in his own. No! no! he 
 could not give it up. And yet, this other call, which 
 had been with him, it would seem, since birth, was 
 now grown too strong for resistance. Before his 
 eyes he must see the thought of his heart depicted 
 by the labor of his brain and hand. He must paint ! 
 He was an artist, an artist! 
 
 With a gesture he released the patient bear and 
 looked wildly about him as though looking his last
 
 OF INTRODUCTIONS u 
 
 upon liberty. The thought was appalling, but to 
 buy his soul he must sell his body into the bondage 
 of routine. 
 
 Dusk was falling and the haze had quite ob- 
 scured the distant water. The evening was very 
 still. 
 
 "I will go!" said Pedro shudderingly. Then, as 
 if shedding the past, he squared his shoulders. 
 
 "Come!" said he to the animal. "We shall return 
 to camp and tell them what we are going to do." 
 
 Slowly he picked up the tall staff to which, as a 
 rule, the bear's collar was fastened by a long iron 
 chain, but which was now detached, and, hat in 
 hand, climbed the hill to the yellow corn-stacks. 
 There he paused on the windy summit, the staff like 
 an alpenstock, held at arm's length, his well-worn 
 coat of green blowing about him, a slim young 
 figure, quick with energy, his small head thrown 
 back courageously. 
 
 "Adios!" said Pedro, as though to something in- 
 carnate, making a sweeping bow as he spoke. Then 
 he covered his crisp brown hair with his wide- 
 brimmed, weather-stained hat of felt and marched 
 into the valley, the bear bounding along before him. 
 
 Not until he was within a hundred yards of the
 
 12 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 road did Pedro realize that he had been trespassing 
 on what now evinced itself to be a country estate 
 of some pretensions : and at this point the fact was 
 made manifest by the sight of a cedar and fir hedge, 
 well planted and cared for, that, growing to some 
 twenty feet in height, marked the frontage of the 
 property. Near by was a closed gate, flanked by 
 pillars of old brick and soapstone, giving access to 
 a narrow foot-path which wound along at the base 
 of the hill he had just crossed. 
 
 Apparently he had been dreaming away the aft- 
 ernoon upon the farming section of the place. The 
 sloping ground which lay between him and the 
 hedge was smooth and soft, and tempted by it, Mr. 
 Jones lay down and rolled a little way. Then he got 
 up and trotted on some distance in advance of his 
 master. The road was very near now, and there 
 came a sound of pattering footsteps from it and the 
 swish of light garments. Through the somber ever- 
 greens Pedro could see a gleam of white, moving 
 swiftly. Then came the noise of heavier tramping 
 a man's step this time a man in haste at that. 
 Then a woman screamed, her frightened cry ring- 
 ing out sharply. 
 
 The bear, moved to curiosity by the sound,
 
 OF INTRODUCTIONS 13 
 
 plunged through the hedge and disappeared, and 
 Pedro, grasping his staff like a cudgel, set off down 
 the slope at a run, reaching the hedge only a 
 moment later than the bear. The fragrant branches 
 whipped across the boy's face as he rushed past, 
 emerging breathless upon the highway. A dramatic 
 scene awaited him. 
 
 Down the road a thoroughly frightened tramp 
 was speeding from the terrifying and wholly un- 
 expected apparition of the bear, a cloud of dust en- 
 veloping his horrified retreat. Close to the gate- 
 way, her purse clasped frantically to her bosom, 
 stood a girl, bewildered and alarmed a girl whom 
 the last sunbeams bathed in glory, gleaming on her 
 hair that was "red-gold, like joy." And to com- 
 plete the picture, there stood Mr. Jones, erect upon 
 his hind legs, his tongue lolling out and his clumsy 
 paws waving from her to Pedro. 
 
 It was an introduction. 
 
 That she was the lady of the morning there was 
 not a doubt. That she was almost as much fright- 
 ened by the bear as by the tramp, whose attempted 
 robbery the animal's sudden appearance had frus- 
 trated, was equally clear. At sight of Pedro she 
 screamed again.
 
 14 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 "Oh ! the bear ! Help, help ! Oh, take him away !" 
 she cried. 
 
 "Abas!" said Pedro sharply, addressing his pet. 
 But Mr. Jones did not obey immediately, and for 
 a moment the three stood as if transfixed. Then the 
 bear dropped to all fours, and the spell of the tab- 
 leau was broken. Still they did not speak, how- 
 ever, each waiting for the other to begin; the girl's 
 breath still coming short from her recent fright; 
 the youth fairly paralyzed by her beauty. She was 
 very young not more than nineteen or twenty, and 
 the ivory of her skin was flushed now, and her eyes 
 were like stars. Her head was held aloft in a way 
 she had that was all her own; a delicate posfe, and 
 quite unconscious. Pedro's eyes were upon that beau- 
 tiful line from chin to breast as she spoke, timidly 
 breaking the silence. 
 
 "Oh, how fortunate that you were near!" she be- 
 gan breathlessly. "It was a tramp. He wanted 
 my little silk purse . . . but the bear fright- 
 ened him away ; he came so suddenly the bear did, 
 that is. In another instant that dreadful man would 
 have had my bag. Not that I would have cared so 
 much about the money, you know," she added a 
 trifle apologetically, "but I have registered letters
 
 
 It was an introduction.
 
 OF INTRODUCTIONS 15 
 
 in it for my father. I have just come from the post- 
 office, and if they had been lost . . . but, per- 
 haps, you do not understand English?" 
 
 "Oh, yes!" said Pedro, taking his eyes from her 
 slender throat and flashing a brilliant smile at her. 
 "Oh, yes, indeed, I understand you !" 
 
 "Then please let me thank you," said she, her in- 
 terest in him growing every moment. 
 
 "But there is nothing for which I may receive 
 thanks !" he protested. 
 
 Her fingers, which, in the recess of her rescued 
 purse, were fumbling some coins, relaxed, and she 
 closed the receptacle with a snap. His words and 
 tone were unusual, and he was looking at her 
 strangely. Perhaps it was better not to offer 
 money. 
 
 As a matter of fact, he had not noticed her ges- 
 ture, being obsessed by the wonderful fact that she 
 was speaking. Actually, she seemed to consider 
 the bear's introduction sufficient. Delighted, he 
 moved his lips to reply, but even as he did so he 
 became aware of the growing intensity of her gaze, 
 and an overwhelming nervousness came upon him. 
 Fumblingly he removed his wide soft hat and 
 clasped it upon his heart with both hands. How
 
 16 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 she stared! Waiting for him to speak again, she 
 gave her chin a tilt which accentuated that heavenly 
 line. Involuntarily he pictured drapery behind it, 
 his artist's soul longing to depict it. Like a Ma- 
 donna. 
 
 "It should be blue!" he said aloud in a queer 
 choked voice. 
 
 "What did you say?" asked the girl with a puz- 
 zled expression. 
 
 At realization of his speech his confusion became 
 complete, and suddenly his one idea was to escape 
 her watchful eyes. 
 
 "I that is to say, er it was Mr. Jones entirely," 
 he stammered, "I I did nothing, nada! It was 
 all the bear." 
 
 "But he is your bear, evidently," she replied, 
 "and I insist that he share the thanks with you." 
 
 "Thank you!" said Pedro eagerly. "You do not 
 know the exquisite delight er ah oh !" Gasping, 
 he sought to extricate himself from the awkward- 
 ness of the impulsive compliment he had half- 
 blurted out 
 
 "Forgive me, gracious lady, er er I must go 
 now !" he finished lamely. 
 
 "Well, I give you my most grateful thanks,
 
 OF INTRODUCTIONS 17 
 
 whether you take them or not," said she with a 
 smile. 
 
 But he was now too embarrassed to rally and did 
 what one often does upon attaining a desired situa- 
 tion : became suddenly panicky and ran away 
 from it. 
 
 "I shall hold your words in my heart," said he, 
 and then, with a gesture half beseeching, half 
 apologetic, and wholly graceful, he swept his hat 
 upon his head, and calling the bear, set off down 
 the road. 
 
 The wording of his speech was odd and unex- 
 pected, and the manner of his departure so pre- 
 cipitant that it looked like a retreat. For as long 
 as he remained in sight she stood gazing after him, 
 her interest in him cemented by his flight. Through 
 the dappling shadows he passed, over the fallen 
 leaves. Then a crimson maple hid him, and the 
 sound of his footsteps died away. With a sigh she 
 was scarcely conscious of uttering, so faint it was, 
 she reluctantly turned in at the gate in the hedge 
 and went slowly along the little winding path.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 A BELIEF IN SIGNS 
 
 BUT Pedro walked rapidly, so that the bear 
 had difficulty in imitating the pace. The 
 youth had now definitely made up his mind to take 
 the new course of action, for this second vision of 
 the beautiful lady had confirmed his resolution, and 
 he felt he must get back to the others quickly, in 
 order to tell them before he had time to change 
 his mind. As he walked he kept muttering "blue, 
 blue!" and his brows were knit furiously. 
 
 He had to pass some villas with a semi-suburban 
 look about them, and then an elm-shaded street, 
 where commerce and conservatism rubbed shoul- 
 ders. Next, by switching off from this thorough- 
 fare, he passed between rows of frame houses, which 
 diminished in their appearance of importance and 
 prosperity the farther he went, until finally the 
 street, if such it could properly be called at this 
 point, was fringed only by shacks that leaned in- 
 quisitively over the gutters, or braced themselves 
 
 18
 
 A BELIEF IN SIGNS 19 
 
 at a fearsome angle against the slanting little gar- 
 dens at their backs. 
 
 Where these humble habitations came to an end 
 there stood an old barn amid a stony field, scattered 
 over with paper, rubbish and discarded cans. In 
 the lee of the dilapidated building a fire was burn- 
 ing upon the ground, and about it a group of people 
 had gathered. Over the blaze a kettle had been 
 hung, into which an old woman was throwing greens 
 from her apron. Near her, his back against the 
 barn, lay a giant of a man, with a patch over one 
 eye. This was Beau-Jean, the mighty Provengal, 
 who at this moment was engaged in carving an elab- 
 orate design upon the base of a bear-stave; while 
 beside him lay the great animal whom he ruled, 
 asleep with its nose tucked under its paws. Two 
 younger women Gunny, Beau-Jean's wife, and 
 sturdy Hermania, wife of Carlos (who lay asleep 
 near by) were mending their shoes. They per- 
 formed this task in company, one holding a flap of 
 leather against the sole while the other pulled a 
 cord through the holes and knotted it. At a little 
 distance, Anna, the pretty and irresponsible, was 
 weaving a garland of bright golden maple leaves, 
 Rico watching adoringly, the while he pretended
 
 20 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 to be busy nursing the wounded paw of their animal. 
 The thickening mist from an alder swamp beyond 
 enclosed the picture like a screen, and the dancing 
 firelight threw weird silhouettes against the tall 
 black wall of the barn. An odor, bitter yet appe- 
 tizing, came from the steaming kettle, and Old 
 Nita muttered while she stirred its contents, as 
 though some witch-broth were bubbling there. At 
 sight and smell of his familiars, Mr. Jones trotted 
 up, eagerly sniffing as he came. Old Nita aroused 
 herself at his approach. 
 
 "Pedro, you have let him loose again, oh, care- 
 less one!" she cried; "some day he will betray you 
 and be off! or worse yet, stolen." 
 
 "Cross Old Nita!" replied Pedro, stepping into 
 the lighted circle and smiling at her. "He is too 
 fond of me to run away aren't you, old fellow, 
 eh?" 
 
 "Chain him! Chain him!" shrieked Hermania. 
 "He is eating my shoe." 
 
 Pedro ran to the rescue, and snapping the chain 
 to Mr. Jones' collar, thrust the pointed end of the 
 heavy staff, to which it was attached, into the 
 ground, and the animal considered himself secured. 
 As a matter of fact he could have uprooted the
 
 A BELIEF IN SIGNS 21 
 
 stake with very little effort; but such is a habit of 
 mind. 
 
 "What's to eat?" inquired Pedro, stooping over 
 the kettle. "Greens! Is that all?" 
 
 "There is rye bread a single loaf," responded 
 Nita. "Thanks to your going off by yourself, we 
 have only taken in a few pesetas all day !" 
 
 "You know very well, Aged One," responded 
 Pedro, "that you take in as much alone as with me, 
 or very nearly. And as for going off! . . . 
 Well, I have something to tell you, but all must 
 hear. Let us gather together first, and eat" 
 
 So far the conversation had been in Spanish, the 
 native tongue of these two. Now, as the conversa- 
 tion became general, they fell into a patois English, 
 the language of the road, sometimes slipping into 
 French, sometimes back into Spanish, their talk be- 
 ing as polyglot as their origin. 
 
 Beau- Jean closed his great knife with a snap, 
 and without arising hitched himself lazily a little 
 nearer to the fire. The women opposite had fin- 
 ished their task and now brought out tin plates and 
 a bouquet of dried garlic. The drowsy Carlos was 
 aroused and sent to the nearest house for water, 
 which he brought in a clean new pail, dripping
 
 22 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 diamonds from its brimming edge. Anna flung her 
 garland about her Rico's head, and as ever, hand 
 in hand, they came to eat when all the work was 
 done. Then, crowding close to the glowing embers 
 (for the night was chill), they sat and ate until the 
 greens had vanished and the bread and garlic were 
 consumed to the last morsel. 
 
 From the town, at first, came muffled sounds, 
 made melodious by distance; but gradually these 
 died away, while nearer at hand came echoes of 
 evening life from the huts. Somewhere a woman 
 was singing a nasal plaintive refrain, which broke 
 off abruptly when the protesting wail of a child, 
 dragged reluctantly from his play, arose shrilly, 
 The late autumn night fell swift and black. Over- 
 head a few frosty stars began to gleam. Gradually 
 quiet came upon the neighboring hovels, and one 
 by one their feeble lights were being extinguished. 
 Around the first bend of that shabby street the open 
 door of a low saloon shed a flare of light across the 
 dusty road, and from its dubious back room came 
 the tortured strains of a concertina. But all this 
 seemed afar, unreal, like a setting for a play. Pedro 
 drew the thin blanket from his knapsack, flung it
 
 A BELIEF IN SIGNS 23 
 
 about him and, underneath it, fastened his old coat 
 of green up closer. 
 
 "Now, do you want to hear, eh?" he asked, ad- 
 dressing the company. "If so, I shall tell my plan." 
 
 Beau-Jean replied first, in his deep husky voice. 
 
 "Let the little one tell his notion. The plans of 
 Pedro have brought many a laugh, and so, many a 
 coin from the crowd on the market street" 
 
 "My shoes will not stand another mending," said 
 Hermania. "If Pedro can tell a plan to get others, 
 I will heed." 
 
 "The lad has wit; did he not conceive the praying 
 trick for Koko?" mumbled Old Nita. "Come, child, 
 what has thy brain devised now to help us?" 
 
 "Pedro is beautiful; that is reason enough for my 
 listening!" cried Anna, laughing. Whereat Rico 
 said nothing, but looked sullenly into the fire until 
 she slipped her hand back into his. Then he smiled. 
 
 "Pedro is a good fellow," he said slowly. "What 
 should we do without him?" 
 
 "Oh, don't, don't!" cried Pedro. "Why do you 
 say these things on this night of all nights? I can 
 not endure it! Call me evil names, and abuse me, 
 rather! Please! It is almost too hard for me to
 
 24 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 do, and yet I must! Amigos! It is for myself only 
 that I am planning my notion will not help you, 
 alas!" 
 
 He buried his face in his hands, and for a moment 
 there was an astonished silence. Such an outburst 
 of emotion on the part of their joyous Pedro was 
 a thing undreamed of by any of them. 
 
 Into the silence the voice of Old Nita broke 
 tremblingly. 
 
 "Hast thou sinned, even as I, that thou weepest 
 so? What is it, Pedro of my heart?" 
 
 "No, no!" he cried, raising his head. "I have not 
 sinned, but I have seen a line an exquisite curve 
 from an oval chin to the base of a white throat." 
 
 "Ah ! In love !" exclaimed Rico and Anna simul- 
 taneously. 
 
 "No; again no!" cried Pedro. "I do not love it, 
 but I've got to paint it!" 
 
 There was another interval of puzzled silence, 
 broken this time by Beau-Jean. 
 
 "Oh, little Pedro," said he, "what do you mean by 
 'paint it? " 
 
 "Just that," said Pedro, striving to conquer his 
 emotion. "I am going to be an artist, a painter. 
 Don't you understand?"
 
 A BELIEF IN SIGNS 25 
 
 The little group stirred relievedly. This was 
 nothing so terrible, after all. Then for a few 
 moments all spoke at once, voicing their relief. 
 Hermania's query made itself evident above the 
 clamor of the rest. 
 
 "But why does this distress you so? Always, al- 
 ways you have made pictures. Pictures of us all, 
 of everywhere, of everybody ; always, always scrib- 
 bling little pictures upon bits of paper! Where is 
 the trouble?" 
 
 "The trouble comes because I shall have to leave 
 you all," said Pedro sadly. "I must go to the city, 
 where I can have the right things to work with, and 
 colors colors colors! I must learn about them. 
 It will be hard, but I can do it." 
 
 "Go away! Leave them!" Such a clangor as 
 they raised! It was beyond human power to quiet 
 them, and he was obliged to wait in silence until the 
 first violence of their emotion had subsided before 
 he could make himself heard. 
 
 "I have tried not to do this," he said as soon as 
 they let him speak, "but I can't help it The art 
 it bosses me now !" 
 
 "But where shall you go?" asked Nita. 
 
 "To New York; it is nearest," replied Pedro.
 
 26 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY, 
 
 "And how will you live?" from Carlos. 
 
 "I do not know." 
 
 "Who will teach you?" queried Hermania. 
 
 "I do not know." 
 
 "And those colors, where will you get them?" 
 asked Anna. 
 
 "I do not know." 
 
 "And knowing nothing, you are yet determined 
 to go?" Beau-Jean demanded. 
 
 "Yes," answered Pedro stubbornly. 
 
 "Then," said Beau-Jean with a sigh, "it is our 
 plain duty to help you." 
 
 "How will you do so?" asked Pedro eagerly. 
 
 "I do not know that, either," responded Beau- 
 Jean. 
 
 Next morning the eight set out together for the 
 city. Whatever strange undertaking Pedro was 
 considering, they would all go along and assist if 
 possible. And so, without any idea save that of 
 action, they set forth, determined though indefinite. 
 
 The coppers of yesterday were all expended for 
 breakfast, and the first step toward the beginning 
 of a day being accomplished, they betook themselves 
 to the railroad track, and walked beside it But
 
 A BELIEF IN SIGNS 27 
 
 noon came and passed, and still no granite towers 
 loomed before their expectant eyes. Finally, to 
 rest themselves, they turned from the wearying 
 shining vista of rails, and seated themselves upon 
 the dead grass beside the mile-post that bore the 
 discouraging legend : 
 
 N. Y. 25 M. Harrison I M. 
 
 By this time all were tired and hungry. Worse yet, 
 the bears were hungry a condition to be reckoned 
 with before the need of the masters. 
 
 "Let us go," suggested Pedro, "into the town 
 which this dusty road leads to, and dance the bears, 
 pass the hat, and eat, eh ?" 
 
 The suggestion needed no seconding. With 
 groans and complaints they got to their feet again, 
 and set off for the village. 
 
 But fate was not smiling upon them just then. 
 The town was almost deserted at this hour. Besides 
 which, near the end of the performance, Toto, who 
 was supposed to "sing," raised his voice from his 
 usual growling monotone to a hungry howl. That 
 sent the watchers running off in all directions. Rue- 
 fully Old Nita counted the earnings. 
 
 "Only seven pennies in all," she complained.
 
 28 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 "Better to have rested beside the railroad." 
 . "It is not enough to feed one bear even," re- 
 marked Beau-Jean, "and I am as hungry as two." 
 
 Meanwhile, Pedro was talking to himself. "You 
 got them into this ; otherwise they would have trav- 
 eled the regular way. Now you get them out." 
 And his eyes swept the grimy little square in 
 search of a solution for the immediate difficulty. 
 The place was sufficiently down-at-heel to discour- 
 age anybody. On one side was the low-roofed 
 station building of dirty bricks, a row of bill- 
 boards filled the space to the right, and to the left 
 a bridge crossed the railroad. Then Pedro noticed 
 a dingy lunch-wagon by the broken curb, some 
 fifty feet away. At the entrance to it stood a fat 
 man with a dismal flabby face. His hands were 
 tucked beneath an apron whose immaculate white- 
 ness shone out conspicuously among the gray sur- 
 roundings. The man was motionless, as though he 
 had become petrified while waiting for customers 
 who never came. 
 
 "Ah!" said Pedro aloud, "I have an idea!" 
 
 "You have had enough ideas for the present," 
 grumbled Nita. 
 
 "But it is good! Wait, you shall see!" cried
 
 A BELIEF IN SIGNS 29 
 
 Pedro. "Stay where you are, all of you, until I 
 beckon." 
 
 Then, thrusting his hands into his pockets, he 
 strolled nonchalantly away in the direction of the 
 lunch -wagon. 
 
 It was a dingy affair, as has been said, and upon 
 its tawdry sides the lettering had grown dim. Still, 
 it was easy enough to make out the inscription : 
 
 THE ELITE 
 PIES, COFFEE, MILK, FRANKFURTERS 
 
 By the doorway hung a battered canvas sign 
 marked : 
 
 SPECIAL FOR TO-DAY EGG SANDWICH 
 
 Over the doorway was an invitation to "walk 
 in", and underneath this the owner's name "Isaac 
 Lovejoy, Prop." had been printed small. Pedro 
 sidled up to the individual who, it would seem, bore 
 this name and title. 
 
 "Business thriving 'bout here?" asked Pedro con- 
 versationally, by way of an opening. 
 
 The man gave him a glance, but without moving 
 to do so.
 
 30 THE IMPOSSIBLE BCXV 
 
 "Nope!" he replied. 
 
 "What ! In a place where travelers must pass so 
 often ?" Pedro exclaimed, lifting his eyebrows. 
 
 "Yep !" said the man, still motionless. 
 
 "What is the trouble? Are there no travelers?" 
 
 "Travelers, all right," said the fat man, "but no 
 customers! No one stops here ! Why, look at this !" 
 
 Without changing his position, he reached behind 
 him with one hand, and brought forth a large sand- 
 wich. 
 
 "Look at this!" he repeated, flapping the bread 
 and meat at Pedro, "that's a fresh sandwich, that is ; 
 but it might as well be a rubber sandwich for all it 
 has a chance of bein' eat! That's how good cus- 
 tom is around here." 
 
 He slapped the edge of the door with it, and re- 
 placed it inside the wagon, Pedro's eyes following it 
 greedily. 
 
 "What's the trouble, do you think?" Pedro in- 
 quired. 
 
 "The lunch-wagon trust!" exclaimed the man. 
 "I'm an independent, I am; but everywhere I go 
 where there might be good business doin' say a 
 corner near a factory, or any such real wide-awake 
 place one of them trust wagons is there before me,
 
 A BELIEF IN SIGNS 31 
 
 all shined up an' covered with gold paint an' plate- 
 glass ! A fellow like me ain't got no show." 
 
 "Why don't you spruce up a little then, eh?" 
 asked Pedro. 
 
 "Why don't you buy somethin' so's I'll get the 
 money for to buy the gold paint with ?" retorted the 
 other. 
 
 "Because I have no money," Pedro replied. 
 
 "Same reason here, in answer to your first," cried 
 the fat man triumphantly. 
 
 "Oh!" said Pedro. 
 
 "Works in circles, don't it?" said Mr. Lovejoy. 
 
 There was a pause which Pedro ended, glancing 
 sidelong at the lunch-wagon. His manner was very 
 tentative. 
 
 "Supposing, now," said he, "that I could put you 
 on the right track to competing with those trusts, 
 eh?" 
 
 "What d'yer mean ?" demanded the man. 
 
 "Those wagons of the trust they are all alike?" 
 
 "Yes," said Mr. Lovejoy, "all the same ; and very 
 slick and fancy/' 
 
 "Aha! Then what you want is something en- 
 tirely different from them ; something to make peo- 
 ple notice you."
 
 32 
 
 "Sure, but what?" 
 
 "That," replied Pedro, "is just what I can tell 
 you. I have a proposition to make." 
 
 The man scowled at him for a moment, as though 
 wondering at the imprudence of this whipper-snap- 
 per's offering to deal with him. Then Pedro looked 
 at him, and smiled one of those vivid startling 
 smiles that were peculiar to him, and usually took 
 people unawares, making them smile back at him 
 before they really knew what they were doing. Nor 
 did it fail this time. The flaccid face of the lunch- 
 wagon man expanded into a broad grin. 
 
 "That's it!" exclaimed Pedro. 
 
 "That's what?" asked the man, growing serious 
 again. 
 
 "Oh, don't spoil it !" cried the lad, "that smile is 
 just what you need to attract customers!" 
 
 This time the man laughed. 
 
 "Well," said he, "what is your proposition, young 
 one?" 
 
 "I have some friends with me," began Pedro; 
 "all those over there and the bears. We are all 
 hungry, see ? Now I will paint you a picture on the 
 side of your wagon, and also I will paint for you a 
 new sign; and if, when I have finished, you agree
 
 A BELIEF IN SIGNS 33 
 
 that the sign and the picture will bring you custom- 
 ers in the future, you will feed us all, not forgetting 
 the bears, eh ?" 
 
 The fat man considered a long time before reply- 
 ing, and Pedro watched him anxiously. With one 
 large pale hand the man stroked his chin several 
 times, as though caressing an imaginary beard. 
 Then he looked at the group upon the opposite cor- 
 ner and counted them up upon his stubby fingers. 
 Then he looked at Pedro and the lunch-wagon by 
 turn. 
 
 "Well," he said at last, "the old dog-wagon 
 couldn't look no worse'n it do now; an' my stock 
 what I have laid in will get spoiled if it don't get 
 eat. You can have a try, young one, if you like." 
 
 "Hurrah!" said Pedro, and hurried over to tell 
 Nita and the others. 
 
 A musty hardware store that also sold grain 
 and lumber, furnished a few crude materials. Pedro 
 looked at the paints dubiously, but accepted them, 
 as there was nothing else to do. The fat man paid 
 for them, and Pedro carried them over to the cart 
 and set to work. 
 
 "Please, one thing," he begged of its proprietor, 
 "don't you look till all is finished."
 
 34 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 "All right," agreed the man, "I'll set here, just 
 inside the door, and read outer the paper till you're 
 done." 
 
 Pedro answered nothing, but gave a glance at a 
 little mirror that hung just opposite to where the 
 unconscious Mr. Lovejoy sat, whipped off the old 
 green coat, and began working frantically. 
 
 The proprietor settled himself on the little stool 
 near the door, and faithful to his promise, unfolded 
 a pink evening paper. Cautiously, and speaking not 
 at all, Old Nita drew near, leading Mr. Jones. They 
 sat down in the dust beside the step, and watched 
 Pedro in silence. Then came Beau-Jean and Koko, 
 followed by Gunny, who settled themselves beside 
 the old woman. The sight of this drew Anna and 
 Rico, who came slowly to join the group, because 
 Toto still limped. And lastly, Carlos and Hermania 
 laid aside an ancient dispute which they had un- 
 earthed to keep ennui at arm's length, and led their 
 animal into the interested circle. After a few min- 
 utes two hack-drivers strolled over to jeer, and re- 
 mained to watch in fascinated silence. They were 
 joined before long by several of their fellows. No 
 train being due just then, the station master turned 
 the key in the lock of his cubby-hole, and emerged
 
 A BELIEF IN SIGNS 35 
 
 to see what was going forward. He rubbed elbows 
 with the hardware-store keeper, who was keen to find 
 out the use to which his wares were being put. From 
 the neighboring saloon came the red-faced, white- 
 aproned bartender. He looked twice, wiped his face 
 upon a bandana handkerchief, muttered, "Holy 
 mother," and stood rooted to the spot. Women from 
 the dismal flats above the little shops joined the 
 crowd, babies in arm, and about their skirts the 
 younger ones clung, noisy and wondering. A hand- 
 ful of gamins, all that the town boasted, darted in 
 and out, and fought for front seats. In short, be- 
 fore half an hour was gone, all the town, for the 
 first time in the lunch-wagon's history, had clus- 
 tered before its door. As for Pedro, he had forgot- 
 ten that there was a world which might come to gape 
 and criticize. He was working. 
 
 But if the painter was unconscious of the crowd, 
 the proprietor was not Twice he wanted to move, 
 but dared not; and as the crowd increased, so did 
 his impatience. Finally he began to read aloud 
 from the newspaper, to relieve his feelings. 
 
 ' 'Wife shoots . husband ; both may die'. Hum, 
 ain't that awful, now? 'Girl missing' something 
 fierce the way girls act nowadays. Here's two fellers
 
 36 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 broke into a house an' took all the lead-pipe. Dear! 
 dear! they got three months for it. 'May be trouble 
 in Venezuela' ah! Them South Americans are all 
 the time makin' trouble. 'May be trouble in Ven- 
 ezuela over asphalt' . . . Oh ! I read that once 
 already." 
 
 "I come from there," said Old Nita suddenly. 
 
 "From where?" asked the fat man. 
 
 "Venezuela," said Nita. 
 
 This was too much for Mr. Lovejoy. He could 
 not resist taking a glance at her, even though it in- 
 volved breaking his promise not to move. 
 
 "You don't say !" he exclaimed, looking her over 
 as though seeing her for the first time and finding 
 her very strange, "you don't say !" 
 
 "I do !" she replied, her eyes fixed upon Pedro in 
 a peculiar way. 
 
 "Please!" exclaimed Pedro, waving his brush at 
 the fat man, who guiltily resumed his former posi- 
 tion. 
 
 For half an hour longer, or more, Pedro worked, 
 glancing now and then at the little mirror just in- 
 side the door, in which Mr. Lovejoy 's unconscious 
 face was reflected. There began to be an occasional
 
 A BELIEF IN SIGNS 37 
 
 tittering from the crowd, and then, later, spontane- 
 ous bursts of laughter. 
 
 "When kin I come out?" cried Mr. Lovejoy at in- 
 tervals, and 
 
 "Wait," commanded Pedro. Feverishly he add- 
 ed the finishing touches to his production, and then 
 at length stood back and invited his patron to de- 
 scend. As the fat man came down the steps there 
 was a little burst of applause which he was at a loss 
 to understand until he stood before his transformed 
 place of business. 
 
 All the old lettering, already faint, had been ob- 
 literated, and in the center of the largest space was 
 a portrait-head of himself a large laughing por- 
 trait, just like him, yet irresistibly merry. It was a 
 face at which one instantly smiled in sympathy ; in- 
 deed it wore the very "smile to attract customers" 
 as Pedro had said. Withal it was a remarkable 
 piece of work, though coarsely laid in (not that its 
 original was critic enough to know this), but the 
 least knowing could not have failed to be attracted 
 by it. Its possibilities as a magnet for trade were 
 undeniable. Over this extraordinary production 
 Pedro had painted in neat black letters:
 
 38 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY, 
 
 I. LOVEJOY 
 
 EATING is JOYFUL 
 
 COME IN AND EAT 
 
 I LOVE TO SEE You Do IT 
 
 Then underneath : 
 
 LOVEJOY'S Luscious LUNCHES 
 
 After a moment of spellbound silence, the fat 
 man drew a long breath. 
 
 "You win !" he said to Pedro, a smile like that in 
 the picture overspreading his large countenance. 
 
 In a second the square was in an uproar, the 
 crowd expressing its delight noisily. Small boys set 
 up a hooting and yelling, and three hackmen, who 
 had never before patronized the place, purchased 
 sandwiches upon the spot. In a circle sat Old Nita, 
 Pedro and the rest, a bear between each couple, 
 and Mr. Lovejoy fed them all generously. Then, 
 just as the weary Pedro was accepting a cup of cof- 
 fee and a gigantic plateful of doughnuts from the 
 hand of his patron, the whir of an automobile 
 caused him to look around. All unperceived it had 
 been standing near for some time, and now bestirred 
 itself at the approach of the train it had come to 
 meet. As it moved away, a girl in the rear seat stood
 
 A BELIEF IN SIGNS 39 
 
 up for a last backward look at the little crowd, and 
 then, against the clear blue of the sky, Pedro beheld 
 a fleeting vision of red-gold hair.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 A LOSS AND A FIND 
 
 "TT AM sure that there must be color in our souls," 
 i said Iris Vanderpool. 
 
 "At this moment," replied Mr. Samuel Hill, "my 
 soul is the exact hue of tea with lemon in it, shading 
 off to the color of a jam sandwich." 
 
 With a petulant little gesture, Iris turned from 
 the window out of which she had been gazing at the 
 slowly darkening city. 
 
 "You always spoil my best ideas!" she said. 
 "Why can't you reply sympathetically? But you 
 shall have tea, of course." 
 
 The room in which the two were talking was a 
 curious one : all gray and green, and quite unlike 
 anything one would have been led to expect by the 
 exterior of the house, which was large, old-fash- 
 ioned, and situated in the aristocratic section of Fifth 
 Avenue which lies below Fourteenth Street. All 
 along one side of the room ran a Japanese screen 
 of gray silk, upon which were embroidered great 
 
 40
 
 A LOSS AND A FIND 41 
 
 white birds. This was the most conspicuous of the 
 furnishings, and the rest seemed to have been cho- 
 sen with the sole idea of subordinating them to it. 
 The furniture was all of gray, and scarcely notice- 
 able, except in a far corner, where upon a teak-wood 
 sacrifice-table there blazed a blue jar, like a gem. 
 
 The impression was of elimination; of striving 
 after an effect which was not quite sincere. Still, it 
 was very beautiful in its way, and set off the red- 
 haired girl, who was its mistress, to great advantage. 
 Now, as she came away from the window, her 
 graceful figure was silhouetted curiously against the 
 wonderful old screen; while her hair was thrown 
 into relief upon the gray, so that the red-gold of it 
 seemed like a halo. Her features were cameo-like. 
 The pose into which she dropped as she pressed the 
 almost invisible bell was so naive that the man 
 watching her laughed a little, the while he was in- 
 wardly thrilled by her beauty. 
 
 "Oh, yes ! you do look awfully well there !" he said 
 teasingly. 
 
 Again the girl was vexed at his failure to play 
 up to her little scene. As she crossed over to seat 
 herself beside him, he noted the shade that cloud- 
 ed her eyes. She settled herself in her corner of
 
 42 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 the sofa, and he leaned over, taking both her hands 
 in his. 
 
 "You mustn't be cross," he said tenderly. "You 
 looked simply corking, posing there. Honestly, you 
 did!" 
 
 But she was not to be appeased, and withdrew 
 her hands impatiently. 
 
 "Simply corking!" she quoted in a tone of dis- 
 gust. "What an expression ! Why don't you learn 
 to use the sort of language one would expect! a 
 painter a real painter to use? You are never in 
 the least poetical. It is so disappointing to me. At 
 least, you needn't use slang when you are making 
 love to me !" 
 
 "But Iris" 
 
 "What is more," she continued, ignoring his in- 
 terruption, "I think you owe it to me to be a little 
 more more romantic! No! That is a poor word 
 to express my meaning. A little more poetic! Why, 
 you don't even look like an artist any more !" 
 
 "Don't I?" said he, slowly rising and regarding 
 himself in a mirror opposite. 
 
 It must be granted that her accusation in regard 
 to this last item was a just one, for the reflection 
 which faced him did not in the least resemble the
 
 A LOSS AND A FIND 43 
 
 traditional or stage-manager type of artist. It was 
 a man of moderate height who stared back at Sam 
 Hill from the mirror; a well-set-up man of perhaps 
 thirty-one or two. His features were good but or- 
 dinary, and the trim little brown mustache above 
 the well-cut upper lip lent him the appearance of a 
 far more foppish type than that to which he hon- 
 estly belonged. His eyes were gray and humorous, 
 well set, with deep markings of blue at the inner 
 corners. His hair was brown, and brushed in the 
 latest fashion, and his clothes were remarkably well 
 cut and immaculate. On the whole his appearance 
 was that of a well-groomed, well but not too well- 
 fed, dapper, prosperous citizen, whose calling might 
 be anything from the stock market to the manufac- 
 turing of commodities; anything, indeed, except a 
 painter. 
 
 "Iris," said he after a moment of silent inspec- 
 tion, "must a fellow really have long hair in order 
 to be a good painter, do you think?" 
 
 "Don't be absurd!" she answered; "it isn't that, 
 of course! But it is something deeper, something 
 more important, far. Why, if I did not see the 
 lovely things you do with your brush, I could not 
 believe you were an artist. You never give out
 
 44 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 your temperament in any other way, and I am hun- 
 gry for it." 
 
 "For what?" he asked. "A lot of silly talk about 
 the color of your soul? Lord ! girlie, can't you learn 
 to live those things instead of talking about them? 
 Can't you see that they lose in value if expressed in 
 any but the highest way? One has to keep one's 
 mouth shut in order that all the strength be left for 
 one's hand." 
 
 "And apply none of it to daily life?" she cried. 
 
 "Live it; don't apply it," he answered dryly. 
 
 "One grows by expression !" she declared ; "by ex- 
 pression of every sort. My father's friends, lots of 
 the people who come here, are living splendidly in- 
 side themselves, and they give it out, and conse- 
 quently they are interesting. When I became en- 
 gaged to you, I thought I was going to find the same 
 sort of intercourse, only intensified. But you are 
 not what I thought you were, and my soul is un- 
 satisfied." 
 
 At this dramatic juncture tea arrived, and for a 
 few moments there was silence while she inspected 
 it and dismissed the servant. Hill strolled about, 
 humming under his breath. When the door had
 
 A LOSS AND A FIND 45 
 
 shut, he stopped his pacing and resumed his place 
 beside her. 
 
 "Look here, dearest," said he lightly, "don't go 
 for me the first day you get home. It's a long while 
 two entire weeks since we have been together, 
 and here we go, off the handle, first thing. Let's 
 cut it out, and be sweet to each other instead. Tell 
 me, did you motor down from Stamford? And did 
 your father come with you?" 
 
 "We only came as far as Harrison in the car," 
 she answered sullenly. Then a picture which she 
 had seen at recurring intervals for the last twenty- 
 four hours came before her mental vision again. It 
 was of a curious group gathered about a slender 
 young figure of a man who worked at the decora- 
 tion of a lunch-wagon. She could see the handsome 
 earnest face with startling vividness. 
 
 "And your father, dear," persisted Hill, ignoring 
 although noting her abstraction, "when are you go- 
 ing to let me speak to him about you? I want him 
 to know, and every one to know of our engagement 
 Did he come down?" 
 
 "Yes, but on the train," she replied still absently. 
 
 "Then I'll talk to him to-night," exclaimed Hill.
 
 46 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 "Now tell me about the last couple of weeks. You're 
 not a very satisfactory correspondent, you know. 
 What did you do at the farm ?" 
 
 For a moment she was about to tell him of Pedro 
 and the bear, but as she looked at her lover the cer- 
 tainty was borne in upon her that if she did so, the 
 incident would lose its glamour. So she said noth- 
 ing of it. 
 
 "I walked, and rode horseback, as usual," she re- 
 plied. "There was time for once for me to learn to 
 know myself; to commune with my inner conscious- 
 ness. I read Swinburne. Do you know, I think his 
 aura must have been blue, like mine?" 
 
 Sam Hill helped himself to a fifth jam sandwich 
 before replying. 
 
 "That must have been great; especially the rid- 
 ing," he exclaimed. "And that reminds me, Iris, 
 there is a wonderful house at the Winter Garden. 
 I'll get seats for to-morrow, if you say so. You'll 
 like it, I'm sure. There are some bully acrobats, 
 too." 
 
 With the air of a tragedy 'queen, Miss Vander- 
 pool arose and swept to the center of the room, her 
 gray, gown coiling about her feet like clouds of 
 smoke. Very young she looked, and quite like a
 
 A LOSS AND A FIND 47 
 
 child dressed up and acting a play. But to her own 
 mind, she was a woman hurt in her sensitive soul. 
 Withal, she had a certain dignity despite her youth, 
 consequent, perhaps, on the position which had been 
 hers since the death of the mother she could scarce- 
 ly remember. 
 
 "Why, what on earth is the matter?" cried Hill, 
 admiring her immensely, unspeakably. 
 
 "Matter?" she cried tragically; "you ask me 
 that? I tell you that my soul is hungry starved! 
 and you retort with an invitation to a music-hall ! 
 It is unthinkable! How can you? You have no 
 sympathy, no understanding. I hate you. There !" 
 
 She turned from him abruptly. 
 
 "Iris!" he cried, springing to her side and put- 
 ting his arm about her. "You must not say such 
 things, you silly child. When I leave my work, I 
 want to play just to play like a child and a 
 trained horse amuses me; frankly and truly, I do 
 like it. You hardly ever laugh for sheer merriment. 
 It's most neurotic, I'm darned if it isn't!" 
 
 "I'm not a silly child," cried Iris hotly, disengag- 
 ing herself from his embrace. "I'm not neurotic! 
 My soul is torn." 
 
 "Oh, marry me right away, and let your soul go
 
 48 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 hang !" exclaimed Hill. "All you need is a taste of 
 life! Honestly I understand about this feeling of 
 yours, dear. Believe me, work and living in ear- 
 nest, are the answers and the cure." 
 
 "You don't understand!" she cried; "every word 
 you utter makes that plainer. You never have any 
 great emotional experiences at least, that I can see 
 and so, of course, you can't recognize them as 
 real in others. You may be an artist on canvas, but 
 you are not an artist of life, and that is far more 
 important! I suppose you will go on leading your 
 ordered existence forever. I shall stifle if I have 
 to share it! And I thought you were a romantic 
 figure. Why, you work as regularly as any business 
 man, and as hard!" 
 
 "A curious complaint," said he, the half-smile 
 dying upon his lips. "You know little, dear, of life, 
 or you would not talk like this. Control is the pass- 
 word to success. It is a bitter fact, perhaps, but one 
 we all have to learn." 
 
 The atmosphere of the strange gray room had 
 become tense, for the dispute that had arisen al- 
 most banteringly, had changed to a crucial thing, 
 and both persons concerned were suddenly aware 
 of it.
 
 A LOSS AND A FIND 49 
 
 "That is a theory which I do not intend to live 
 by," she said rather breathlessly. 
 
 "How am I to take that?" said the man. 
 
 "As you see fit," she replied. "I mean to live by 
 expression. I used to think that you did so. You 
 have changed." 
 
 "For your sake!" he expostulated, suddenly an- 
 gry. "If I have whipped myself into some sem- 
 blance of a human being, it has been I was going 
 to say, for you ; but it is more than that It has 
 been for the work's own sake. And now you are 
 ready to repudiate me because of that very accom- 
 plishment. You are unfair, -unreasonable." 
 
 "Oh, don't be so logical, or I shall go mad!" she 
 cried. "I hate your reasonableness !" 
 
 "Very well, then," said he, trying to smile, "I'll 
 be unreasonable." 
 
 "And don't be facetious! Oh, go away, I can't 
 endure you !" 
 
 "Look here, Iris," he said hoarsely, "I'm not jok- 
 ing. God forbid ! This is getting too serious. Am 
 I really to go?" 
 
 "Or let your spirit out of its cage," she said. 
 
 For the third time, Hill committed his greatest 
 mistake.
 
 50 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 "You are a foolish child!" he said angrily. 
 "Very well, then, I'll go. But I warn you, if you 
 send me off, I'll not come back." 
 
 For a moment he waited, hoping that she would 
 speak, but she said nothing, merely standing there 
 and trembling a little, though white and silent. 
 Suddenly Hill turned on his heel. 
 
 "Confound all women!" he muttered, and with- 
 out a single backward glance, flung himself out of 
 the room in a fury. 
 
 For a moment or two longer she stood motionless, 
 and then throwing her arms out wildly, she cried 
 his name aloud. 
 
 "Oh, Sam !" she called, "come back please come 
 back!" 
 
 Running out into the upper hall, she arrived at 
 the stair-head just in time to hear the front door 
 close after him, and was instantly obliged to flee the 
 mildly-inquiring gaze of the footman, who came in 
 to remove the tea-tray. When he was gone, how- 
 ever, she cast herself face downward among the 
 gray cushions of the sofa and cried bitterly, a cold 
 horror clutching at her heart as she slowly came to 
 see the reality of what she had done. 
 
 For Hill had spoken the truth when he implied
 
 A LOSS AND A FIND 51 
 
 that she was merely a child bored with luxurious 
 surroundings and striving after she knew not what. 
 Her father adored her, and gave her absolute lib- 
 erty. The people whom she knew by inheritance 
 meant little to her; she found them introspective, 
 self-absorbed, and amateurs at the arts they affected, 
 many of them simply hangers-on of her beauty-lov- 
 ing father, who with the years had become less the 
 man of affairs, and more the man of letters and pa- 
 tron of the arts. As she grew up, her discontent in- 
 creased, until finally, within the last two years, she 
 had stumbled upon a group of people with whom 
 brains meant aristocracy. Here she had met Hill, 
 and after about a year, he had persuaded her to be- 
 come engaged to him. She had consented on condi- 
 tion that it remain a secret for the time being. There 
 had been no reason for concealment but the girl's in- 
 nate love of romance and mystification. And so no 
 one had been told of the engagement, although it 
 was a well-known and widely-discussed subject 
 among their friends. 
 
 And it was all over ! Well, possibly it was for the 
 best 
 
 She buried her face deeper in the esthetic gray 
 cushions. Her soul must have expression ! It must!
 
 52 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 If only he would do something really great for his 
 art! But there was no hope of that. She felt be- 
 reft, weary, yet tried hard to remain unrepentant. 
 For (she told herself) no matter how it hurt, it was 
 better to break with him than to continue with him, 
 since he stifled her so, and yet 
 
 Desperately unhappy, but not without a certain 
 enjoyment of her own misery, she arose with the 
 determination to find her father, and extract what 
 comfort she could from him, without telling him her 
 trouble. Perhaps he was in his library now. She 
 would go and see. Slowly she descended the wide 
 stairs. At the street entrance stood her father, evi- 
 dently on the point of leaving the house. 
 
 Vanderpool was a handsome man, and had re- 
 tained an intangible atmosphere of youth, despite the 
 responsibilities of his wealth, and despite the obvious 
 fact that he had lived intensely in the emotional side 
 of his nature. Peculiarly graceful in every move- 
 ment, alert, his hair, which was nearly white, was the 
 only indication of age about him ; and by contrast to 
 the thick mass of it, his face looked the fresher, and 
 his eyes more blue. He was truly a romantic figure, 
 and despite his extremely fashionable clothing he 
 would have appeared to be poet or actor, rather than
 
 A LOSS AND A FIND 53 
 
 practical man of affairs. At sight of Iris he smiled, 
 the habitual melancholy vanishing from his face as 
 fog before sunshine. Then he ran his gloved fin- 
 gers down the length of black ribbon that secured 
 his eye-glasses, found them, and regarded his 
 daughter. 
 
 "Hello, little Iris !" he said. "You seem a bit pale, 
 my dear! Were you looking for me?" 
 
 "Yes, father!" replied Iris, "but I you are go- 
 ing out, I see, so " 
 
 "I've an appointment that is rather pressing," 
 said he, a little anxious pucker gathering between 
 his eyes, "but if your business can't wait, mine will 
 have to." 
 
 "Oh! mine is nothing, nothing!" said Iris, with 
 what seemed to her divine submission to fate. 
 
 "Then we'll have a fine talk at breakfast," re- 
 turned her father. "I'm dining out Good night, 
 my dear!" 
 
 The door closed behind him, and Iris turned into 
 the library. 
 
 Through the high windows of stained glass a dull 
 light still filtered; upon a broad table of gleaming 
 oak, black with age, a shaded lamp burned dimly. 
 Lured by the somber quiet of the place, she curled
 
 54 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 herself up in a large armchair, and leaned her tired 
 little head against its cushioned back. 
 
 The room spoke strongly of her father. It was 
 large and fine and romantic, like him; it was dig- 
 nified, too, containing several almost priceless treas- 
 ures. Over the mantel-shelf hung a world-famous 
 Madonna, the plain-faced peasant girl who had 
 posed for it, cuddling her child and smiling down 
 the long vista of centuries from beneath her hood of 
 blue. Below the window ran a low chest, framed 
 from what had once been the altar of a Spanish 
 church, while on either hand, row upon row, up to 
 the vaulted ceiling rose the ranks of books, well 
 worn or in new covers : thousands of them a rare 
 and well-loved collection. But perhaps the most 
 unique feature of the apartment was the great low 
 desk. It was a Flemish piece, unusual in shape and 
 construction, and covered with a multitude of intri- 
 cate ornaments, carved deep into its heavy surface. 
 It was a massive hand that produced it. Upon its 
 broad surface lay a few letters addressed to her 
 father, carefully placed by the precise hand of his 
 secretary. There were also a calendar of a practi- 
 cal sort and the usual writing implements, neatly 
 arranged.
 
 A LOSS AND A FIND 55 
 
 Vanderpool had never been a very light-hearted 
 person, but he had a subtle charm which was more 
 fascinating than any gaiety could be, and his rare 
 smile was a thing to be remembered. Of her 
 mother, Iris had no recollection, but from her earli- 
 est childhood she had seen her father as an indi- 
 vidual, instead of merely as "father", a being from 
 whom came the luxuries of material existence; and 
 she had always adored him. There was a cloud 
 over his existence, she knew, and she assumed it 
 to be the loss of her mother. But this explanation 
 was not sufficient to account for the depression 
 which had come upon him lately. The difficulty 
 with which he was obviously struggling could 
 scarcely be financial, she reasoned, since he was cer- 
 tain to warn her against any excessive expenditure; 
 and although their mode of living was lavish in the 
 extreme, he had given no hint that its curtailment 
 was desirable. What could the trouble be? Had it 
 to do with those letters which came by registered 
 mail, with foreign stamps, some of which the 
 tramp by the wayside at Stamford had so nearly 
 stolen from her? Stamford! If only she had 
 stayed in the free innocent air of the country, 
 among the crimson maples, where troubles slipped
 
 56 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 from one so easily. Her thoughts flew to her erst- 
 while lover, and bitter regret welled up afresh in 
 her heart 
 
 "Oh, Sam!" she wailed aloud, and cast herself 
 across the desk-board, grasping the carvings oppo- 
 site with agonized white fingers. 
 
 Then suddenly an utterly unexpected, astonish- 
 ing thing happened. The carved ornament beneath 
 her right hand flew outward with a spring. Iris 
 raised her tear-stained face in amazement, and 
 there before her lay open a secret compartment, 
 responsive to her unwitting touch. It was a shal- 
 low drawer, about six by ten inches in diameter, 
 and was filled with papers, written out in Spanish 
 (to her an unintelligible language), the script being 
 that fine close one of which she had just been 
 thinking. There were a number of these, but stran- 
 ger still, on top of them lay a miniature in a frame 
 of brilliants. At this she stared long, with fasci- 
 nated incredulous eyes, for the face was that of the 
 youth who had sung before the cobbler's shop ; the 
 youth who, with his bear, had saved her from the 
 tramp ; the youth who, later, she had watched paint 
 the wagon in the grimy suburban square !
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 THAT WHICH IS NO ROBBERY 
 
 MEANWHILE Sam Hill had flung himself 
 into the street, and into a state of mind 
 which was the reverse of enviable. Reason was sud- 
 denly impossible. The arguments which he had ad- 
 vanced to Iris but a moment since now failed him, 
 and his one mastering, overwhelming thought was 
 that he had lost her. The idea had nothing of the 
 element of incredulity in it ; it was horribly, terribly 
 real, overshadowing the possibility of any other 
 thought. Lost! He had lost her! She had sent 
 him away! 
 
 It had all happened so suddenly that the shock left 
 him gasping. Probably she had never really cared 
 from the first, he thought, for had she ever been in 
 love with him she could not have dismissed him on 
 so flimsy a pretext. That his lack of "artistic" at- 
 mosphere was really what she felt the need of so bit- 
 terly, he did not for a moment believe. The only 
 alternative, however, appeared to be that she had 
 
 57
 
 58 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 never really known him for what he was, seeing him 
 through a glamour which she had created around his 
 profession. Could a few trappings, a velvet coat, 
 long hair, soft ties and such things be sufficient to 
 hold her? Were they really more important in her 
 mind than what a fellow actually was? Incredible! 
 The only aspect of the situation that held a ray 
 of light for him, was that she had found out her mis- 
 take before it was too late. He loved her so well 
 that for a moment the burden of his grief at losing 
 her was lifted by the realization that she had es- 
 caped the irreparable misfortune of marrying him. 
 Poor child ! he thought, she should not be made to 
 suffer because of his continued presence, either. He 
 would go away, to some far place where she would 
 never see him. The awful possibility of their being 
 obliged to meet under the inquisitorial eyes of their 
 friends could be eliminated. He would hide him- 
 self in order that she might be free to go about. 
 That her outburst had been merely because of her 
 youth, he fully understood. There was nothing fun- 
 damentally unfair or unwomanly about her. She 
 was simply the victim of the unreal atmosphere in 
 which she had lived. If only he could take her out of 
 it! Poor little girl, how young she looked, how frail,
 
 THAT WHICH IS NO ROBBERY 59 
 
 as she stood there with her beautiful angry face! A 
 black misery filled his soul, a hatred of himself, and 
 a wretched sense of failure in the thing most vital to 
 him in life. 
 
 While this passed through his brain, he had been 
 walking rapidly, and after a few moments, coming 
 upon Washington Square, he flung himself upon 
 one of the benches near the center, stretching his legs 
 out straight in front of him, folding his arms, and, 
 frowning under the tilted brim of his hat, he sat 
 moodily staring into space. 
 
 Darkness had not quite fallen yet, and all about 
 him poured the homeward-bound crowds from the 
 neighboring shops, factories, and offices: an un- 
 ceasing stream, varied as the nations of the earth. 
 From the north side the generous old houses of 
 mellow brick looked on in dignified somnolence. 
 From the south stared the wide windows of a row of 
 buildings, motley as the crowd they faced, and as 
 scarred with the throes of living. Here dwelt and 
 strove with agonized souls many who fell or merely 
 struggled on in the cause of an art which the north 
 side, in idle moments, sometimes condescended to 
 patronize, lorgnette to nose, always without enthusi- 
 asm, always with a sense of bestowing a favor. To
 
 60 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 the west a few semi-modern apartment-houses 
 rubbed shoulders with their more ancient neigh- 
 bors, the spacious low-roofed residences of two gen- 
 erations past. Here and there, up the bulging fa- 
 ades of the former, lights were beginning to flower 
 forth. 
 
 At the eastern end of the park tall buildings 
 massed, lowering, the advance bulwarks of com- 
 merce spreading octopus-like beyond. 
 
 Between such boundaries then, lay the Square, a 
 pitiful scrap of nature's handiwork, snatched from 
 the country and imprisoned here, to be mauled into 
 ugliness by the eager multitudes who came to use it; 
 a shamefully inadequate little handkerchief of green, 
 cast down amid a parched waste of stone and mor- 
 tar; yet precious, and valued, too. In its center 
 arose the white rainbow of the Washington Arch, 
 spanning a stream of clumsy vehicles of trade. And 
 around it, down the paths, across the intersecting 
 and boundary roads, went the people, newly released 
 from toil, hurrying to such a variety of habitations 
 as the mind can scarcely grasp or, grasping, believe. 
 
 Here one saw cheaply clad shop-girls, singly or 
 in little groups, their silhouettes outlining the sharp- 
 est cut of the latest fashion. In the same wave
 
 THAT WHICH IS NO ROBBERY, 61 
 
 with them were the younger members of their sex, 
 who followed the same trade, pale-faced little girls, 
 half-women, half-children, whose garments were a 
 curious garbling of both. Their laughter was shriJl 
 from sheer relief at their release from the tedious- 
 ness of tying up endless parcels. Following these, 
 the elder and younger alike, were lean youths who 
 seemed mere match-board marionettes inside their 
 exaggerated clothes, calloused young men with 
 blotched faces and bad eyes, following, following 
 ever, hats a-tilt and cigarettes dangling from loose 
 lips. 
 
 Jews with long beards went by, and stumpy Jews 
 and Russians and Poles, stunted in mind and body 
 by long service in factories where white foamy gar- 
 ments are made in their thousands, at the cost of im- 
 mortal souls. Through the park came laborers with 
 slouching gait ; a group of them chattered in Italian 
 about the misdoings of some padrone. In a side 
 street, just glimpsed, a second gang piled their picks 
 into the yawning blue tool-chest, standing in line to 
 do it, and then came filing across the Square, leaving 
 a little garden of red lights where they had been 
 toiling. From the Little Club a knot of laughing 
 art students came racing. Arm in arm they sang as
 
 62 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 they crossed to the French restaurant which fur- 
 nished them a dinner of mystery for little more than 
 the song itself. Up Fifth Avenue the double string 
 of glowing pearls, which illuminates it, had been 
 strung. The crowd was lessening now. 
 
 One by one the noises began to subside. Only an 
 occasional late worker scurried past, and the Square 
 was gradually emptying of all save its habitues. 
 The number of these was increased by shabby figures 
 who drifted in at random, blown there by some 
 whirlwind of the city, like atoms in a dust cloud. 
 
 It grew darker. 
 
 Infrequently, a dray, with great, heavy, fringed- 
 hoofed Flanders horses, clattered past, their drivers 
 little needing to urge the homeward-bound beasts. 
 How they rumbled and swayed, towering loads de- 
 posited afar, laths and poles rattling loosely. Into 
 the surrounding gloom they vanished, roaring, 
 squeaking, jolting over the cobblestones. 
 
 Quieter and yet more quiet grew the Square. At 
 this hour the virtuous were eating in their homes, 
 while the wicked fed in luxury over there to the 
 northwest, where already the white flare of middle 
 Broadway was flung against the darkened sky. Over 
 all hung the indefinable yet definite spirit of the
 
 THAT WHICH IS NO ROBBERY 63 
 
 city ; intricate, throbbing, fraught with the joys and 
 horrors of civilization. 
 
 And Sam Hill still sat glowering out upon the 
 scene. 
 
 "Oh, the wonder of it!" said a low voice at his 
 elbow. 
 
 With an effort Hill aroused himself, the aching 
 trouble in his heart pulsing painfully at the return 
 to consciousness of his own personality. Had some 
 one spoken to him? It was only his fancy, perhaps! 
 Suddenly something cool and damp and unmistak- 
 ably alive thrust itself into the relaxed palm of his 
 hand, causing him to start up. Then the cool thing 
 shot forward, leaving his hand upon a rough coat of 
 fur. An animal! What could it be? 
 
 "Great Scott!" he exclaimed, all alert In the 
 darkness beside him crouched a shapeless mass, 
 which grunted softly. 
 
 "It's only Mr. Jones," said the voice that had 
 spoken before. "He just woke up. It's only my 
 bear!" 
 
 Then Sam Hill realized that the creature at which 
 he was staring in the dimness was a small bear, to 
 which was attached a chain that clanked upon the as- 
 phalt walk.
 
 64 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 "Mr. Jones, is it?" snapped Hill. "And who the 
 devil are you ?" 
 
 "I am Pedro," replied the animal's custodian. 
 And even in the gloom Hill could see the white 
 gleam of a smile. The slender figure straightened 
 up on the bench beside him. 
 
 "What Pedro? Pedro who?" demanded Hill, in- 
 terested in spite of himself. 
 
 "Only just Pedro," came the answer. Then fol- 
 lowed a laugh a wonderful rippling laugh, ending 
 abruptly, as though a door had been closed upon 
 music. 
 
 "Well, Pedro, whoever you are," replied Hill, 
 "you seem to be in as ill straits as myself, else you 
 would not be sitting in the Square at such an hour." 
 
 "Are you hungry, too?" Pedro inquired. 
 
 Hill laughed, a short laugh, not so pleasant to 
 hear as the other's. 
 
 "In a way," said he. 
 
 "Ah !" said Pedro pityingly, and by the tone Hill 
 knew that the youth had guessed at a hidden mean- 
 ing in his words. 
 
 "Why do you come to the city?" asked the latter, 
 after a pause. "Your brotherhood usually keep to 
 the open road."
 
 THAT WHICH IS NO ROBBERY 65 
 
 "I come because I am an artist, and here I shall 
 have more opportunity to paint," replied Pedro. 
 
 "You speak as though you were a genius," said 
 Hill bitingly. 
 
 "Perhaps I am," Pedro returned. 
 
 "Surely every one knows how it feels to be a 
 genius," remarked Hill; "we all have the potential 
 qualities that are necessary. To prove you're a 
 genius to some one else is quite another matter. Can 
 you do it?" 
 
 "As to that, I am quite indifferent," Pedro re- 
 sponded. "I want to paint; that is enough for me." 
 
 "Hum!" said Sam, "how are you going about it? 
 Have you friends here?" 
 
 "Several, who came with me," the other answered, 
 "but they can not help me to begin." 
 
 "Too bad!" commented Hill. "We all have our 
 troubles." 
 
 There was a silence, during which Mr. Jones fum- 
 bled the hand of his new acquaintance affectionately. 
 Then said Pedro : 
 
 "What is your trouble?" 
 
 Somehow Hill was not in the least offended by the 
 question. For a moment he considered it, then : 
 
 "I must go away and hide myself," he said.
 
 66 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY. 
 
 "And you don't want to go away ?" 
 
 "Yes or rather, I want to go, although it is a 
 duty I take a bitter pleasure in discharging. But I 
 must go, because I must hide." 
 
 "Oh!" said Pedro. "Why go off to hide ? A good 
 way to get out of sight is to remain where you are, 
 and tell no one about it. People so promptly forget 
 about you." 
 
 Hill peered at the youthful face to see if the bear- 
 trainer was joking; but no trace of mirth could he 
 discover. 
 
 "Perhaps !" said he. Then to change the subject, 
 "When did you arrive in the city ?" 
 
 "This afternoon." 
 
 "And what, exactly, do you expect to do?" 
 
 "To find a master, and to study ; to find a studio, 
 and to paint," was the terse reply. 
 
 "And meanwhile you are hungry ! Are you sav- 
 ing all your money for the ends you mention?" 
 
 "I have no money," explained Pedro cheerfully. 
 
 "Then how do you plan to get your studio?" 
 
 "I do not know yet," Pedro told him. "But there 
 must be a great many in so large a city." 
 
 "They are filled, for the most part"
 
 THAT WHICH IS NO ROBBERY 67 
 
 "But by worse artists," remarked the youth, as 
 though that solved everything. 
 
 Hill laughed a better laugh this time. 
 
 "Unfortunately it is not so simple to be rid of 
 these inferior fellows," said he. "You will have to 
 think of some other plan than ejecting them, or ex- 
 pecting them to turn out on your criticism." 
 
 "Perhaps I shall find a patron," suggested Pedro 
 with a vague gesture. 
 
 "I would not depend on that," Hill advised him. 
 "This is not the Renaissance." 
 
 "No, it is New York!" the youth flashed back. 
 And again Hill could not quite determine whether 
 he was being laughed at, or doing the laughing him- 
 self. 
 
 "So you are not daunted by the somewhat uncer- 
 tain future before you," remarked Hill, "even 
 though you are unfed ?" 
 
 "I have been that before," retorted Pedro dryly. 
 
 "Well," said Hill, "the most immediate of our 
 troubles can be mended. I, too, am hungry. Will 
 you dine with me?" 
 
 "We shall be glad to," said Pedro. 
 
 Hill had forgotten the bear, but when Pedro said
 
 68 
 
 "we," he realized that there were three hungry be- 
 ings. 
 
 "All right," he said, making a rapid mental in- 
 ventory of the restaurants he knew. Hitting at last 
 on the right one, he got to his feet with a jerk. 
 "Come along, we'll go over to Galotti's." 
 
 Pedro obeyed with alacrity, hauling Mr. Jones to 
 attention, and the three of them set off briskly in the 
 direction of Sixth Avenue. 
 
 Past the dark houses they strode, house after house 
 with curtains drawn closely so that no ray of light 
 stole out to the passer-by. Farther on, under the 
 arc-lights, children swarmed over the littered pave- 
 ment. Sam and his companions turned up-town, 
 hugging the lighted fronts of the shops. Overhead, 
 the railway thundered, making conversation impos- 
 sible. Loungers stared after them in momentary 
 curiosity as they passed, and a little crowd of chil- 
 dren attached themselves to Mr. Jones. At Tenth 
 Street they turned eastward again, and coming to a 
 halt before a low iron gateway, Hill dispersed the 
 children with a handful of coppers. 
 
 The house before which they had paused was 
 an old-fashioned brownstone building, five stories 
 high, with barred and shuttered windows which
 
 THAT WHICH IS NO ROBBERY 69 
 
 gave no sign that food and cheer might be obtained 
 within. Only against the basement window-blinds, 
 drawn tightly down, with gleaming cracks upon 
 them, shadows moved swiftly, abnormal in bulk, as 
 though a race of giants served the guests. Pushing 
 open the little gate, Hill made his way down the 
 steps and through the accumulation of ash-cans and 
 wooden crates that littered the area-way, Pedro 
 and the bear following. Then all three waited in the 
 cavernous gloom of an archway under the front- 
 door steps, at what was apparently the tradesman's 
 entrance. After a moment a dark shape appeared 
 upon the ground glass of the door, and Signorina 
 Galotti opened to them : a plump little woman with 
 a scarlet apron, and heavy gold rings in her ears. 
 
 "Santa Maria !" she gasped, at sight of the com- 
 pany in which Hill presented himself, "what now?" 
 
 "This is Pedro," said Hill, "and his bear, Mr. 
 Jones." Then turning to Pedro, he remarked that an 
 introduction by a habitue was necessary before the 
 signorina would admit a new patron to the joys of 
 her abundant table. Then he entered, motioning 
 them to do likewise. 
 
 "But the bear?" objected the hostess. 
 
 "It is less a bear than many of your friends here,"
 
 70 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 said Hill, waving a hand toward the; inner room. 
 The witticism was lost upon Signorina Galotti, being 
 far beyond the boundaries of her English. 
 
 "But I can not, even for the signor," she began. 
 
 Then Pedro smiled at her, and without warning, 
 sailed into a sea of voluble Italian which Hill found 
 it impossible to follow. Not so the restaurateurs. 
 She beamed upon him before he had half finished, 
 and without further difficulties, they were admitted. 
 
 "What a smile ! Che bel dentin'!" she purred. 
 
 From the front basement room several guests 
 craned inquiring heads, only to withdraw indiffer- 
 ently after a glance. Anything might happen at Ga- 
 lotti's, and a well-behaved bear which showed no in- 
 dication of performing, was, therefore, of only the 
 slightest interest. But it was not into this first 
 room that Hill went. Down a narrow corridor they 
 groped and thence into a kitchen full of activity and 
 color, picturesquely disordered, not to say untidy. 
 Three waiters in decrepit evening-dress clothes, 
 bustled in and out from the room beyond, to which 
 the kitchen was the only passage. On the whole, it 
 was a reassuring atmosphere. However things may 
 be cooked at Galotti's, they always taste divinely. 
 
 Passing through this place, they emerged into
 
 THAT WHICH IS NO ROBBERY 71 
 
 what had once been the back yard, the brick fence 
 of which had since been carried up to the height of 
 the second story, and roofed in with glass. Around 
 all four sides ran a wooden balcony with tables upon 
 it, and to this a narrow staircase gave access. On the 
 ledge were plants in pots and boxes, and between 
 them, at one corner, reposed a huge yellow cat with 
 a short tail, asleep amid all the clatter and talk. Be- 
 low were more little tables, so close together that it 
 was hard to avoid jostling your neighbor's elbow. In 
 the corner of this strange room grew large trees 
 whose tops vanished through the roof, which in sum- 
 mer could be removed, leaving only their feathery 
 branches to protect the diners below. 
 
 All along both sides of the apartment were inden- 
 tures, where once the windows of the houses next had 
 looked into this one-time garden. These spaces were 
 now filled by paintings, obviously contributed by the 
 habitues, in some cases, perhaps, in lieu of payment 
 for a score. From one a life-sized horse gazed in 
 upon the assembled company; through another a 
 young lady could be descried struggling with Sig- 
 norina Galotti's famous spaghetti, and so on, accord- 
 ing to the fancy of the decorator. The upper walls 
 had drawings on them, too, some executed directly
 
 72 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 upon the brick; and even the posts supporting the 
 balcony boasted pencil drawings and sketches in col- 
 ored chalk. 
 
 The company was large and varied: respectable 
 Italian bourgeois of the neighborhood, voluble and 
 greedy, artists, music students from the neighboring 
 institute, lonely men in search of amusement, two 
 prim maiden ladies on an intellectual spree, pro- 
 fessional models, and socialists out of employment. 
 Hill selected a table in a corner, and after persuad- 
 ing Mr. Jones to lie down beneath it, they seated 
 themselves. No need to order here. There is what 
 there is, and the waiter brings it to you. In a few 
 moments a generous bowl of soup was put before 
 them, and the long crisp loaf had been given to the 
 bear, to keep him occupied. With a sigh at the 
 thought of Old Nita, and the others who were doubt- 
 less hungry also, Pedro fell to. 
 
 "So you are an Italian?" remarked Hill by way 
 of renewing conversation. 
 
 "No," replied Pedro, adding nothing to the infor- 
 mation. 
 
 "But you speak it, I observe," said Hill. 
 
 "Yes," said Pedro, eating busily. 
 
 "But you are surely a foreigner?"
 
 THAT WHICH IS NO ROBBERY 73 
 
 Pedro waved his spoon vaguely. 
 
 "I am an everywhere" he explained. 
 
 "Oh !" said Hill, "a cosmopolitan, I see!" 
 
 They ate the entire menu with very little conver- 
 sation. Tomato with garlic; potage, slab of unrecog- 
 nizable fish, mysterious entree, the leg of a chicken, 
 lettuce vinegette, tiny lobster, pink spaghetti, an in- 
 finitesimal lozenge of ice-cream, ancient Camembert, 
 and thick coffee in heavy cups; dubious fruit, and 
 sour wine of Sicily [California] to wash it down 
 withal. Then they pushed back their chairs a little, 
 and talked. Hill tossed a package of cigarettes upon 
 the table, lighting one himself. Pedro followed suit, 
 inhaling the fumes with a long sigh of contentment 
 
 "You are fond of that bear?" asked Hill. 
 
 "I am," replied Pedro. "He is my good friend; 
 he is the thing I love most of all." 
 
 "How did you come to give him his name?" 
 
 "Mr. Jones?" said the boy. "Oh! that is not his 
 real name. His real name is Michael-Angelo-Goya- 
 Rodin-Rembrandt. I only call him Mr. Jones for 
 short." 
 
 Hill laughed. 
 
 "Tell me of your wanderings with him/' he asked. 
 
 And Pedro told him. The elder man sat very still
 
 74 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 as he listened, his chair tilted back against the brick 
 wall, his eyes narrowed to mere slits of light as he 
 watched the young raconteur through the blue haze 
 of smoke. What tales these were to which he lis- 
 tened ; how they stirred the wanderlust in him. Their 
 possibilities how many, their adventures how varied ! 
 Simply told, and without affectation, they were yet 
 replete with dramatic interest, full of color, of sug- 
 gestion. This boy had a marvelous personality. He 
 made you see things without describing them to you. 
 A look, a gesture, did it. Dreamily Sam listened, 
 yet intently. Those companions of whom the boy 
 spoke, what of them ? Again he listened, having put 
 the question, and again his interest responded imme- 
 diately. And all the time his first favorable impres- 
 sion of Pedro grew in strength, and was the more 
 solidly confirmed. 
 
 The ingenuousness of the youth, the simplicity, 
 the wit, the direct decent look of him, the under- 
 standing that he displayed, were remarkable. 
 Then, too, his honesty seemed obvious. Further- 
 more, he was unquestionably without the desire to 
 impress Hill, or to befool him. Of himself and his 
 origin the boy said little or nothing, but even this 
 failed to trouble his listener. More and more he
 
 THAT WHICH IS NO ROBBERY 75 
 
 liked this youth whom chance had thrown his way at 
 such an unwelcome moment, and as he watched the 
 eager young face, animated by talking of the things 
 he loved, Hill felt that here was one of the excep- 
 tional people who bring into contact with their fel- 
 low creatures the selves that they really are, un- 
 shielded by a mask of pretense, because unafraid and 
 unashamed of their own hearts. 
 
 Then, too, the fascination of the ancient and hon- 
 orable profession of bear-dancing had taken hold 
 on Hill. But though he listened well, every little 
 while came the thought of his lost love, and with it, 
 a wave of depression swept over him. With a des- 
 perate effort to pull away from it, he asked another 
 question. 
 
 "Where are your companions?" 
 
 "Very near the public garden from which we have 
 just come," responded Pedro. "Down the little cob- 
 bly street to where the air-railway turns; then in a 
 little door, through a court, to an old house with 
 wooden balconies. They await me there." 
 
 "How fitting!" murmured Hill. "How I should 
 like to see them ! Would they receive me well?" 
 
 "Without a doubt," said Pedro; "they recognize a 
 friend at once, even as a dog or a bear does !"
 
 76 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 "I've a mind to go back with you," said Hill jok- 
 ingly. "They must be corkers. That Old Nita, now 
 what does she look like ?" 
 
 "She why she looks she looks like Time him- 
 self," responded the boy. "See, I will show you." 
 
 Saying which, he brought out a stump of a pen- 
 cil and a small pad from some recess of his old coat 
 of green. 
 
 "This is Nita," said he, turning over several pages, 
 and handing the open book to Hill. "Old Nita, and 
 that next is Beau-Jean, scolding Koko." 
 
 Hill took the proffered papers idly; gave one 
 glance at them, whistled a little, and suddenly sat 
 very erect, examining them intently. 
 
 "Who drew these?" he inquired after a moment. 
 
 "Why, me, of course," said Pedro. 
 
 For another little space Hill was silent, turning 
 over the sheets in his hand. There were perhaps 
 twenty sketches in the pad. From his scrutiny of 
 them, he raised his eyes to Pedro. Could the boy be 
 telling the truth? Had he actually drawn these 
 things? They were remarkable. Surely, such a one 
 as had done them would be famous, for work like this 
 was not to be hid easily. Indeed, it was amazingly 
 good. It was the work of a born draftsman. But
 
 THAT WHICH IS NO ROBBERY: 77 
 
 Pedro's face showed no signs of uneasiness. On the 
 contrary, his eyes were alight as he explained who 
 the people were. 
 
 "That is Rico and Anna, who are kissing," said 
 he. "Has she not a beautiful long thigh? And the 
 way her back bends so! The fine old gentleman is 
 a farmer, though he looks so like a Jewish patriarch. 
 See, Nita dancing the 'coquette.' Ha! ha! here is 
 another pose of that! And if you will turn that 
 sheet, you will see a whole page of Mr. Jones." 
 
 "It's It's Gee!" said Hill. 
 
 "Do you like my drawings?" asked Pedro, sud- 
 denly self-conscious, a deep flush spreading over his 
 face and neck. 
 
 "Like them !" was all Hill replied, but at the tone 
 of his voice Pedro's eyes sparkled. 
 
 "When did you do all this?" Hill added. 
 
 Pedro told him. Again there came to Hill a vis- 
 ion of that wonderful irresponsible life, and again 
 the overwhelming sense of his loss of Iris. 
 
 "You see, I can do them very quickly," Pedro was 
 saying. And indeed, while he had been speaking, 
 the profile of the man at the next table had appeared 
 upon the pad, a masterly piece of drawing in which 
 the subject's most salient characteristics seemed to
 
 78 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 have been caught. "I love to draw people, and lots 
 of people together, and places. And I love to draw 
 Mr. Jones." 
 
 "Who taught you?" asked Hill. 
 
 "Long ago, when I was small, some one taught me 
 every day," said Pedro. "Then I have painted a 
 little here, and a little there. Once at Barbizon, 
 Rodin, the great one, was there in the woods, idling, 
 and although it was of modeling he talked, he taught 
 me infinitely much." 
 
 "How did you come to know him?" 
 
 "I spoke to him." 
 
 "Ah!" 
 
 "But I have yet so much, so much, to learn ! That 
 is why I came here to find a studio, that I might 
 really learn." 
 
 Privately, Hill was convinced that what Pedro 
 needed was the opportunity. That was all. It was 
 remarkable, but true. Suddenly he leaned across the 
 little table. 
 
 "I suppose you love that bear tremendously?" he 
 asked. 
 
 "Yes," said Pedro, instantly aware of an impend- 
 ing development. 
 
 "More than your art?"
 
 THAT WHICH IS NO ROBBERY 79 
 
 Pedro laughed. Then he sobered. 
 
 "No," he said, "of course not. I suppose I would 
 even give him up if need be and yet he is like my 
 own brother." 
 
 The boy's eyes were bright with excitement, and 
 the warm color had crept into his face as he spoke. 
 Across the mouth of the man opposite to him was the 
 stamp of a new-born decision. 
 
 "Then give him up !" cried Hill. "I am a painter. 
 Give him to me in exchange for my studio and all 
 that is in it!"
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 TWO MEETINGS 
 
 NEXT morning, Pedro awoke with a sense of 
 strangeness upon him, and instinctively 
 stretched out his hand to touch Mr. Jones, who al- 
 ways slept beside him. But the bear was missing. 
 Instead of a rough warm coat that heaved sleepily 
 beneath his hand, he touched a coverlet soft as silk. 
 At this, his sense of uneasiness increased, and with 
 an effort he opened his eyes and sat up. Ah, yes! 
 He remembered now. Mr. Jones was gone. Gone 
 with the sanction of his master, gone perhaps never 
 to return ! One by one the events of the preceding 
 evening came back to his mind. His hesitancy, Hill's 
 arguing with him, the details of their compact, and 
 his final agreement to the extraordinary proposal. 
 Ah, yes ! and Hill's writing of the two letters, one of 
 which gave him, Pedro, possession of the apartment 
 in which he now found himself. The other to a 
 friend of Hill's, to be delivered on the morrow 
 that was to-day to-day. 
 
 80
 
 TWO MEETINGS 81 
 
 Still more clearly the events of the night just 
 past crept into his memory. He recollected his 
 own inability to realize the magical good fortune 
 that had befallen him, his dazed acceptance, his 
 vague wondering if it were really possible to carry 
 out such a plan ! All had appeared unreal, until it 
 came to parting with his bear, when he had almost 
 wept. He recalled now his introduction of Hill 
 (who had decided to begin his new life instanter) 
 to the other bear-dancers, and his own explanation 
 to them of what was to happen. Their cries of pro- 
 test and congratulation still rang in his ears. He re- 
 membered pleading that Hill be kind to Old Nita 
 when she was penitent, and firm with her when she 
 drank. Poor Old Nita ! She would still have some 
 one to lean on ; he was glad of that ! 
 
 He remembered his lonely entrance into the studio, 
 too, awestricken by its height and luminous dark- 
 ness. How he had entered, clutching the money 
 that Hill had loaned him, a twenty-dollar bill, 
 crumpled tightly ! 
 
 Slowly he let his gaze travel about the comforta- 
 ble little bedroom in which he lay. Its furnishings 
 were simple in the extreme, yet adequate. Opposite 
 him stood a chest of drawers, mahogany, and old.
 
 82 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 There were brushes on it and a few simple ebony 
 toilet necessities. On a rack above it hung several 
 neckties in quiet silks, all good and new. Higher 
 still swung a small three-sided mirror for shaving, 
 and for some reason Pedro smiled as he looked at it. 
 An ample closet occupied one end of the room, and 
 beside the bed-head was a little table with an electric 
 reading lamp and several books upon it, Whitman, 
 R. L. S., Gautier, a catholic assortment. Through 
 the single window, opening out to the leads, the sun 
 was shining merrily. At the foot of the bed was a 
 door, half closed. The studio was in there! At the 
 thought he sprang up and flung the door wide to 
 discover if his memory of the night was a vision or a 
 reality. 
 
 As he stood upon the threshold he seemed for an 
 instant to see, not the room before him, but the up- 
 right, fashionably clad figure of Hill, leading a bear 
 off into the dark regions beyond Washington Square. 
 Then throwing back his head, he laughed, and 
 stepped into the studio. 
 
 Once it had been the attic covering the upper 
 floors of two adjoining houses. In every sense the 
 place was a workshop, replete with the most perfect 
 tools for the trade of the brush, and the only spot
 
 TWO MEETINGS 83 
 
 conducive to idling was the chimney corner. Upon 
 the smaller easel stood the half-finished portrait of 
 a man, while against one wall a pile of canvases was 
 standing, their faces hidden. 
 
 Pedro drew a long breath of delight. Then it was 
 true ; it had not been a dream, after all ! He thought 
 of Mr. Jones again, and for a moment the pang of 
 that dear remembrance was bitter. How was Hill 
 getting on with Old Nita? he wondered. If only 
 it were possible to be with them, and here at the 
 same time ! Ah, well ! one could not serve two mas- 
 ters, and he had chosen and did not regret. 
 
 On the mantel-shelf stood a letter that Pedro 
 had placed there on the previous evening. Hill had 
 given it to him with the injunction to deliver it at the 
 earliest possible moment. He read the superscrip- 
 tion with interest : 
 
 Abraham Lincoln Leigh. 
 
 An address on Tenth Street followed. Pedro de- 
 termined to deliver it at once, and, accordingly, has- 
 tened with his dressing. But the sense of possession 
 was too much for him. Once, flinging his arms wide, 
 he made as if to embrace the great bare chamber 
 and its contents; and then, as suddenly, sank down
 
 8 4 
 
 upon the model throne and burst into sobs, great 
 strangling sobs that shook his entire frame. For 
 several moments he lay so, and when at last he raised 
 himself, he was smiling through his tears. 
 
 "Dios!" he said aloud. "Such happiness! Ah! 
 such happiness." 
 
 He took up his sketching-pad and slipped it into 
 his pocket. Again he tried to leave, and this time a 
 bit of color, yellow, vivid, magnetic, called him back. 
 He crossed to where it lay upon a palette and care- 
 fully closed the tube. A little got upon his hand, 
 and in turn upon the letter that he held, making a 
 tiny yellow sun around which spread an aura of oil. 
 
 "I must go," said Pedro. 
 
 But still he lingered. The light was all wrong. 
 If one were working on that portrait now, it would 
 have to be changed ! Not until he had adjusted each 
 of the shades to suit his fancy, did he finally leave, 
 reluctantly, dragged away only by the letter' in his 
 hand. Even at the door he turned for one last look. 
 Then he latched it after him and ran down-stairs. 
 
 It was still very early as New York reckons time, 
 being not quite eight o'clock. To Pedro this seemed 
 late to be starting on any errand, and he was sur- 
 prised at the comparative quiet into which he
 
 TWO MEETINGS 85 
 
 emerged. The house, or rather houses, in which 
 Hill's studio was situated, were the last two of what 
 had once been a terrace of considerable pretensions, 
 and they ran bias to the streets that had demol- 
 ished all the others like them. Consequently, these 
 decaying aristocrats of buildings did not stand upon 
 any avenue or street, but upon a queer little tri- 
 angular court of their own, shut in at the front by 
 Sixth Avenue, and bounded on either side by Eighth 
 and Ninth Streets. At the rear loomed one of the 
 city prisons, terra-cotta, ungainly, ugly as the sins 
 that necessitated its existence. The little court thus 
 formed was paved with flagging, and within it the 
 two old houses huddled in dignified, rather sad se- 
 clusion. 
 
 In the courtyard Pedro paused again to gaze up 
 the mellow brick fronts where his skylight glittered 
 in the sun. The floors below were occupied by apart- 
 ments of a makeshift sort, and of these most had the 
 windows closed and the blinds drawn. On the floor 
 next the top, however, one was flung wide, and the 
 befrilled muslin curtains that guarded it bellied 
 in the breeze. There was a little bunch of violets 
 upon this window's sill, and each advance of the sail- 
 like muslin seemed to threaten them with precipita-
 
 86 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 tion on to the stones below. A charming place, truly, 
 and all about it hung an atmosphere hard to de- 
 scribe, keen to feel as the things that happened 
 there ; and more infinitely more might happen ! 
 The very tilt of the leads, a little aslant and rakish, 
 was suggestive, different, peculiar to the place. But 
 delightful as it all was, the winking, flashing, north- 
 ern skylight that topped it, held the lad most 
 strongly. He gazed up at it wraptly, and then, once 
 more his emotional nature got the best of him. 
 
 "/ love you!" he cried to the studio window, and 
 he threw it a kiss. 
 
 There was a laugh a silvery laugh the laugh of 
 a young woman, of a girl pleased by a gallantry 
 and it rang out from behind the billowing white cur- 
 tains. For an instant Pedro stood transfixed, while a 
 golden head was thrust out quickly, and as quickly 
 withdrawn. Then a bare white arm flashed between 
 the ruffles, and the violets flew to his feet. Picking 
 the flowers up, he swept off his old felt hat in that 
 magnificent bow of his, and looked up again, but 
 there was nothing further to be seen, and the win- 
 dow had been shut against the chill wine of the 
 morning air. Holding the little purple blossoms 
 against his heart, Pedro turned away, and passing
 
 TWO MEETINGS 87 
 
 beneath the old brick arch with its bracket-lantern 
 and its sign, Muldoon Place, went out into the 
 awakening city. 
 
 The house in which Abraham Lincoln Leigh lived, 
 was, like almost every other building in this neigh- 
 borhood, now being put to a use other than that for 
 which it was originally intended, for once it had 
 been a warehouse for the storage of paper. 
 
 "Yep!" said the hall-boy, in response to Pedro's 
 inquiry as to whether Mr. Leigh was in. "Third to 
 your right. Last door !" 
 
 So Pedro mounted and knocked. 
 
 "Come !" said a resonant voice, which was like the 
 booming of a great bell. And Pedro, rejoicing at 
 the music of it, promptly obeyed. 
 
 It was a large studio which he entered, large and 
 crowded and disordered beyond belief. Several cor- 
 ners had been screened off for uses other than those 
 of sculpture, which was the self-evident occupation 
 of the proprietor. The walls were crowded with 
 casts, the room was filled with figures, and the damp 
 odor of plasterline was in the air. Upon a sea-chest 
 against the far wall books were stacked, and books 
 lay about everywhere, most of them stained and
 
 88 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 worn, as though handled by the fingers of toil. From 
 behind one screened corner peered a crockery-laden 
 shelf, while another screen partially concealed a 
 shower-bath. At the end of the room, a door stood 
 ajar, and the foot of a rumpled bed, which nearly 
 filled the tiny chamber, could be seen. One instantly 
 felt that the prime reason for this admixture of liv- 
 ing and working was that the two were so intersected 
 in the mind of the sculptor that he would have found 
 their separation impossible; and this idea was con- 
 firmed by the appearance of the man himself. 
 
 At the moment of Pedro's entrance, Abraham 
 Lincoln Leigh was stooping over a frying-pan full 
 of bacon, which was sizzling on the stove; and the 
 instantaneous impression which his visitor received 
 was that the man's name had in some curious fashion 
 influenced his personal appearance. He was very 
 tall, and his leanness was extraordinary. From eye 
 to chin deep lines swept down the forceful jaw, and 
 his overhanging brow and rather prominent nose 
 were rugged in outline. His eyes, deep-set, were 
 misty, but lit up when he spoke as though a veil had 
 suddenly been drawn from before them. It would 
 have been extremely difficult to determine his exact 
 age, though as a matter of fact he was in the neigh-
 
 TWO MEETINGS 89 
 
 borhood of thirty-five. He was clean-shaven, and 
 his shock of dark hair was in disorder. He was clad 
 in a linen blouse, and an ancient pair of khaki trou- 
 sers. Taken all in all, he was a man whose silent and 
 retiring manner led people either to expect much of 
 him or fail to notice him, according to the cast of 
 their own natures; while Leigh himself let both pass 
 by, without comment, if not without thought. All 
 his movements were leisurely, and he took his time 
 about speech. As Pedro entered, he did not even 
 turn his head for a moment, but continued manipu- 
 lating the bacon deliberately. When it was reversed, 
 he looked up at his visitor, and again the mellow 
 voice rang out like the slow chimes of a church-bell. 
 
 "Who are you?" 
 
 "I am Pedro," said the owner of that name, flash- 
 ing his white smile. "I have a letter from Sam Hill." 
 
 "Ah !" remarked Leigh, not, however, offering to 
 take the missive, but looking at the bearer, and, as 
 was so commonly the case, liking him. Then, in re- 
 sponse to that smile of Pedro's, Leigh smiled, a rare 
 thing in him, and an illuminating. 
 
 "Have you had your breakfast?" he asked. 
 
 "Why, no ! I haven't !" exclaimed the boy, evident- 
 ly surprised at the recollection of his lack.
 
 90 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 Leigh looked him over again, his face grave de- 
 spite the gathering up of the little lines at the cor- 
 ners of his eyes. 
 
 "You're a friend of Sam's?" he asked. 
 
 "I am his most devoted one!" exclaimed Pedro 
 fervently. 
 
 Again Leigh smiled. 
 
 "No, you are not," he said. "However, the forks 
 and spoons are in that bureau, and you'll find a cup 
 on the shelf behind that screen." 
 
 Pedro stared at him for a breath, and then, with a 
 laugh he threw his hat and his letter down upon a 
 chair, and went in search of the articles mentioned. 
 
 "Gracias!" he said, "I am very hungry. Maybe 
 you know what that feels like, eh?" 
 
 "You bet !" said Leigh solemnly. 
 
 With alacrity Pedro gathered up the implements 
 wherewith to serve himself, and returned from the 
 corner; shelf with one hand grasping a bristly bou- 
 quet of cutlery and the other balancing some dishes. 
 Pausing before a sketch in plasterline, he looked at 
 it critically, cocking his head to one side, and half- 
 closing his eyes. 
 
 "You ought to push the hind quarters of the tiger
 
 TWO MEETINGS 91 
 
 back of the woman, so!" said he, giving an illustra- 
 tive twist of the hand which nearly sent the cup fly- 
 ing. "It doesn't quite look look solid, you know." 
 
 Leigh brought the frying-pan over when he came 
 to inspect. He crouched for a moment before his 
 model. Then he turned to Pedro. 
 
 "I believe you are right," he said. "In here is 
 where you mean, of course. Are you a sculptor?" 
 
 "Painter," said Pedro, "at least, I am going to 
 be." 
 
 A gleam of amusement crept into those strange 
 eyes of Leigh. 
 
 "Going to be !" he quoted. "Ah ! I see ! The nov- 
 ice is always the severest critic." 
 
 "But I am right about it," persisted the boy, not in 
 the least abashed at being made fun of. 
 
 "I did not say you were wrong," remarked Leigh. 
 "Come and eat. You are in no need of championing 
 your views." 
 
 Still on the alert to defend his inexperience, Pedro 
 obeyed, and drew a chair up to a partially cleared 
 table, the opposite end of which was cluttered with a 
 catalogue full of small objects, all of which had to 
 do with the host's work. Leigh followed suit, plac-
 
 92 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 ing the frying-pan full of bacon atop a heap of ana- 
 tomical drawings. 
 
 There was coffee, and half a bottle of milk; 
 also crisp French rolls from the baker around the 
 corner. While Pedro ate, one eye on the food, the 
 other on the work, finished, half -finished, or just be- 
 gun, which occupied the main portion of the studio, 
 Leigh perused Hill's letter between gulps of coffee. 
 Its substance was merely that Hill was going away, 
 possibly for a year, and confirmed Pedro's possession 
 of the studio with the fewest possible explanations. 
 When Leigh finished reading it, he attacked the 
 bacon and addressed his guest. 
 
 "Tell me," he began. "What's all this about? Did 
 you really never see Hill before last night?" 
 
 "Never," said Pedro. 
 
 "And what reason did he give for this unexpected 
 desire to leave town ?" 
 
 "That he wanted to go!" said Pedro with rising 
 inflection, as if surprised that any other reason were 
 necessary. 
 
 "Hum!" mused Leigh, thinking instantly of Iris. 
 "I believe I can give a guess, then." 
 
 "He took my bear; I took his studio. A very good 
 arrangement, eh?" asked Pedro.
 
 TWO MEETINGS 93 
 
 "For you, certainly," said Leigh. 
 
 "Ah! but you should see my bear!" responded 
 Pedro earnestly. 
 
 The lad was so sincere that Leigh smiled again. 
 
 "From something in Sam's letter," said he, "I am 
 pretty sure that I am right about why he has gone. 
 He says I am to look after you. Are you going to 
 need much looking after?" 
 
 "Every one does," said the lad, suddenly serious. 
 "Every one needs looking after, because every one 
 is young always! And every one is alone al- 
 ways ! But," he added with a laugh, "you may de- 
 pend upon my troubling you only as much as you 
 trouble me; a friendship, is it not? Giving and tak- 
 ing trouble, eh?" 
 
 Leigh did not answer, but as he drew out his pipe 
 and filled it deliberately, he never took his eyes from 
 his visitor. Something in the boy's personality ar- 
 rested him, and as he could not quite define the in- 
 terest which it aroused, he pondered it well. What 
 charm the lad possessed ! Like many another, Leigh 
 succumbed to it without further demur. 
 
 "And what," he asked at length, "do you wish me 
 to do for you as a starter? Take you up to the art 
 school?"
 
 94 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 "Academy! No!" exclaimed Pedro. 
 
 "What do you intend doing, then ?" 
 
 "Paint," said Pedro. 
 
 "Anything else?" 
 
 "Find some one whose criticism I can respect!" 
 
 "Ah!" said Leigh, "and who will that be?" 
 
 "I have not yet decided," said the boy thought- 
 fully. "I shall have to see the work of all the best 
 men first." 
 
 "And when do you go to work?" 
 
 "Now !" replied Pedro. "I must go. There is not 
 a moment to be lost !" 
 
 He arose and stood looking as though alarmed at 
 the flight of so many precious moments. 
 
 "But later?" asked Leigh. 
 
 "When it is dark, I will go with you," said Pedro, 
 responding to the unspoken invitation. 
 
 "I shall come around for you at about six-thirty," 
 said Leigh. "We must get to know each other bet- 
 ter." 
 
 Hat in hand, Pedro turned to flash an assenting 
 smile at Leigh before he went out 
 
 When the door had closed upon him, the sculptor 
 stood in deep thought for several moments. Then 
 absent-mindedly knocking the contents of his unlit
 
 TWO MEETINGS 95 
 
 pipe out upon the hearth, he put it in his mouth, up- 
 side down, and lounged over to the plasterline sketch 
 that Pedro had criticized. For some time he 
 looked at it immovably, and then stretched out a 
 tentative hand toward the hind quarters of the tiger, 
 withdrawing instantly. 
 
 "No, by George!" said he aloud, "I think it's all 
 right just the way it stands." 
 
 But nevertheless, he went to work upon another 
 group, leaving the diminutive sketch alone. 
 
 Half past six (it being then dark) found Leigh 
 on his way to the studio in Muldoon Place, strolling 
 along meditatively through the half-lit mystery of 
 Greenwich. 
 
 At the corner of Seventh Avenue he halted, 
 slapped his pockets, unearthed his pipe and pouch, 
 and proceeded to light up. Then, to make up for the 
 few moments lost in this operation, he dived down 
 the little short cut called Paradise Place. It was very 
 dark in the little fragment of a street, and half-way 
 down its narrow span he bumped into two men who 
 were in the act of parting from each other with low- 
 voiced adieux. The taller of these two muttered 
 an apology almost in the same breath with Leigh's, 
 and was hurrying away, when the sculptor, catching
 
 96 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 sight of the face under the peak of the cheap and 
 shabby hat, called his name. 
 
 "Vanderpool!" 
 
 The millionaire heard, for he made an irresolute 
 little movement as if to return, but changing his 
 mind, only pulled his hat over his eyes, and walked 
 off rapidly. For a moment Leigh almost doubted the 
 veracity of his recognition. Reginald Vanderpool in 
 what amounted to a disguise! Such a circumstance 
 seemed far from likely! And yet he could not be 
 wrong, for in the folds of the man's coat he had dis- 
 tinctly seen the black ribbon and dangling monocle 
 which were characteristic of Iris' father. Deuce 
 take the man, it was very odd for him to rush off in 
 that manner without speaking! But, for the matter 
 of that, Vanderpool had always been something of a 
 mystery to his acquaintances ! 
 
 With a shrug, Leigh resumed his walk, only to 
 have it borne in upon him after a few moments, that 
 the second of the two men whom he had interrupted, 
 was preceding him. Even when he turned into Mul- 
 doon Place, after having lost sight of the fellow for 
 a moment, there he was again, crossing the little 
 paved court twenty-five feet in advance, and en- 
 tering at the basement door!
 
 TWO MEETINGS 97 
 
 "Well, if that isn't the darnedest thing!" said 
 Leigh as he mounted the stairs, puzzled, but there- 
 after thinking of it no more. 
 
 He found Pedro engaged upon a pencil drawing 
 of a very pretty girl in the act of washing herself 
 with the aid of a cake of soap which she held in a 
 prominent manner. Leigh started slightly as he 
 looked at it, but all he said was : 
 
 "Still working?" 
 
 "No," responded Pedro, "I stopped when the light 
 gave out." 
 
 He waved his hand toward the smaller easel where 
 stood a canvas, upon which a picture a street 
 scene had been blocked in. Leigh crossed to look 
 at it, and although the artficial light made any real 
 judgment of what he saw difficult, he bent before it 
 interestedly, though still without comment. 
 
 "So you have stopped working," said he. "What 
 do you call the thing you are doing?" 
 
 "This is not my work," explained Pedro, arising, 
 and laying down the drawing-board. "This is just 
 to live. I have seen many pictures in advertisements 
 like this, often less good, and perhaps I can sell it. 
 Then I need not use the money of Mr. Hill. A good 
 idea, eh?"
 
 98 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 "Yes," assented Leigh, still without any change of 
 expression. "You will be able to sell it. Are you 
 going to put Tears' or 'Ivory' or what on that cake 
 of soap?" 
 
 "Whichever !" said Pedro with a shrug. 
 
 "Ah!" said Leigh, "well, come out and play 
 around with me. I never see any one much, except 
 Hill, and as he has deserted the camp you will have 
 to fill his place, since you have undertaken to fill his 
 studio and my time." 
 
 "All right," said Pedro. 
 
 "Do you know the city? Have you been here be- 
 fore?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Then you haven't much choice as to where we 
 go?" 
 
 "No. That will come later." 
 
 "I suppose so," said Leigh dryly; "meanwhile, I 
 shall reveal some places from which a choice may be 
 made." 
 
 Together they went out. Pedro was good com- 
 pany, and Leigh responded to him readily. Between 
 these two had already sprung up an intimacy that 
 was accepted by both without surprise. It seemed 
 so natural to them to be together, the language
 
 TWO MEETINGS 99 
 
 that they spoke was identical, and both were so 
 simple in their attitude toward life, and toward each 
 other, that they spoke and acted with the feeling of 
 old comrades from the first 
 
 It was a merry excursion upon which they went, 
 merry and innocent in the way that things are in- 
 nocent to those who think no evil. Arm in arm they 
 strode into their adventure of the commonplace, the 
 tall ungainly figure and the slight graceful one, 
 keenly observant of their surroundings which were 
 replete with interest for both. With comment, 
 turn and turn about, upon the things they saw, 
 they passed through half a dozen places of 
 amusement, finding themselves at about midnight 
 seated at a little round table in the Cafe Lafayette ; 
 their left hands upon the frosted surfaces of amer 
 picons, and their right fists belaboring the little table 
 to emphasize the periods of a cosmic problem then 
 under discussion. Having run the gamut of conver- 
 sational subjects, they were wallowing in a most 
 complicated and intricate discussion of ethics. A 
 sentence or two can paint the picture of the stage 
 at which their intimacy had arrived within the span 
 of half a dozen hours. 
 
 "But why do you not believe in the thing called
 
 ioo THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 sin?" Leigh was protesting, with an earnestness 
 born of the hour of night. "Personally, I am con- 
 vinced that it is a most potent factor in life. For in- 
 stance, hypocrisy is a sin (to my mind, at least), 
 and by a sin I do not mean an act, the discovery of 
 which would cover one with mortification and con- 
 fusion and fear like murder, say; but a mental 
 process by which one gives one's soul into bondage; 
 which stunts the growth of the spirit, to our own 
 horror in the face of our futile, because tardy, re- 
 sistance." 
 
 "An act whose chief punishment lies in its discov- 
 ery by ourselves," said Pedro. 
 
 "Exactly !" said Leigh. 
 
 At which subtle agreement they were each enor- 
 mously impressed with his own intellectuality. 
 
 There was a silence. 
 
 "Ah, well!" said Leigh finally, "the night and 
 the city have turned our heads. Let us go home." 
 
 Pedro followed him out into the cold night air, 
 with cheeks still flushed from the excitement of his 
 emotion, due to the rare pleasure of being listened 
 to by some one capable of understanding what he 
 said. And Leigh, the while he closed the discus- 
 sion, watched the earnest young face beside him,
 
 TWO MEETINGS 101 
 
 with an interest beyond any he had yet experienced. 
 Who was this young man, anyhow? 
 
 The question was one that lulled him to sleep 
 that night, and persistently confronted him on his 
 awakening next morning. 
 
 Why was the boy so reticent about his origin, his 
 people, his nationality even. Sometimes one would 
 swear Pedro to be a Spaniard; yet he spoke Italian 
 fluently, and French, too. It was Pedro, for exam- 
 ple, who had ordered the amer picons. His talk was 
 a queer mixture of the elegance of phrase which 
 comes with a literal translation from a Latin lan- 
 guage, and the jargon of the gutters. Yet, when he 
 became earnest and wished to press a point, good 
 English seemed to come to him with amazing readi- 
 ness. And the quality of the boy's work! It was 
 astounding! This latter thought stimulated action. 
 
 Slowly Abraham Lincoln Leigh arose from his 
 untidy bed, and in the early light of the wintry 
 morning, strode into his workshop. Half-way across 
 the floor he stopped, adding his ungainly figure to 
 the motionless throng which stood about. For sev- 
 eral minutes he stood stock-still, and then, with rapid 
 skilful ringers began to curve back the hind quarters 
 of the tiger in the little plasterline sketch.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 THE PEOPLE DOWN-STAIRS - 
 
 IT has been said that as Leigh entered the front 
 door of the studio building in Muldoon Place, 
 the second, and to him unknown, of the two men 
 whose conference in Paradise Place he had inter- 
 rupted, entered the same building by the basement 
 way. This latter person was a tall dark man, unmis- 
 takably Latin in type, and that the house was fa- 
 miliar to him was evinced by the air with which he 
 manipulated the latch and admitted himself. 
 
 The little hall was stuffy and ill lighted by a single 
 gas-burner in a wire cage; and from the rear room 
 came an odor of cooking. But it was not these facts 
 that caused the man to stop short, the crease be- 
 tween his eyes deepening as he stood listening. In 
 the hall above, Leigh's footstep could be plainly 
 heard. The man below approached the staircase with 
 absolute noiselessness, and ascending part way, man- 
 aged to get a good look at the sculptor without al- 
 
 102
 
 THE PEOPLE DOWN-STAIRS 103 
 
 lowing himself to be seen. All unconscious, the lat- 
 ter continued to tramp up toward the attics, and with 
 a muttered oath, quickly suppressed, the watcher re- 
 turned to the basement as cautiously as he had as- 
 cended. At the door of the front room he tapped 
 discreetly, and after a brief interval, during which 
 there was a scurrying sound within and the muffled 
 closing of some interior door, that before which he 
 stood was opened a crack while a smooth voice, with 
 only a slight foreign accent, inquired who was with- 
 out. 
 
 "It is only me. Open up, Ricardo," replied the 
 man in the hall. At which the door was thrown back, 
 revealing a tall bearded man who waved an invita- 
 tion to enter. 
 
 "Ah, Yznaga !" he exclaimed in Spanish. "So it 
 is thou ! Enter, my friend, but I beg you will re- 
 member that in this house I am Mr. Rowe. Such ex- 
 clamations, however cordial, must not be made in the 
 public halls !" 
 
 "Ever cautious !" exclaimed the visitor. "Now I 
 am not even to speak aloud ! Well, you are wise ! I 
 obey!" 
 
 He seated himself beside the table and mopped 
 his face with a thin silk handkerchief. A fine figure
 
 104 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY, 
 
 of a man, almost noble in bearing, and exception- 
 ally well dressed beneath his shabby overcoat. Rowe 
 brought out glasses and a decanter, pouring for his 
 guest and for himself. 
 
 "The house is at your disposal," he said, after the 
 Spanish manner. Then, this formal courtesy dis- 
 charged, he leaned anxiously toward the other. 
 
 "Did you see him?" he asked. 
 
 Yznaga nodded. 
 
 "I did." 
 
 "And he will buy the necessary armaments ?" 
 
 "Yes, but he is a hard customer, that Van . . ." 
 
 "Hush! Not that name, above all others!" im- 
 plored the host. "That he will pay is all I need to 
 hear!" 
 
 "He will pay for them," responded Yznaga. 
 "Moreover, he is no fool, and intends dealing 
 through me only as an agent. No cash ! But we shall 
 arrange the estimate and the bid in such a way as to 
 retain a little for ourselves, eh?" 
 
 Rowe growled at this, and the other went on. 
 
 "No, our wealthy patron would be very difficult to 
 defraud. He is a man to whose capability I make 
 my bow ! And his caution ! By the way," he added
 
 THE PEOPLE DOWN-STAIRS 105 
 
 abruptly, "who lives on the top floor of this build- 
 ing?" 
 
 "A painter by the name of Samuel Hill," replied 
 Rowe, "an easy-going young man. He's the land- 
 lord." 
 
 "Have you any acquaintance with him?" 
 "No more than is absolutely necessary !" 
 "Ah ! your exclusiveness ! Sometimes I think that 
 it is a mistake that it will attract attention ! But of 
 that, later. Tell me, is this landlord of yours a tall 
 homely fellow?" 
 
 "No," said Rowe; "why do you ask?" 
 "Because when He-of-whom-you-know and I 
 were parting just now, such a person interrupted us, 
 whether intentionally or not, I can not tell. But he 
 recognized Vander recognized him, of that much I 
 am certain. And what is more, he followed me to 
 this house and is up-stairs at this moment !" 
 
 For a moment Rowe glared at the other with an 
 expression of intent alarm. Then his features re- 
 laxed. 
 
 "A great tall fellow, did you say?" he mused. 
 Then a light broke upon him. "A giant with a long 
 face and ungainly carriage; that would be Leigh,
 
 106 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 the sculptor, a great friend of the landlord. And 
 he would know him, also ! No need to worry about 
 that. As for his following you, that was mere coin- 
 cidence. He comes here to visit Hill almost daily." 
 
 "You relieve my mind, Rowe," replied Yznaga, 
 lighting a cigarette. "And now for our project. 
 He-of-whom-you-know refuses absolutely to commit 
 himself on paper. He will spend, yes! It is for a 
 great purpose, in a noble cause! But he will sign 
 nothing ! What have we to hold him by ?" 
 
 "The money he spends !" replied Rowe grimly. 
 
 "Will that suffice? This business is against the 
 law, you know, and " 
 
 "I have something that will hold him," replied 
 Rowe. "I still have the thing by means of which I 
 first interested him !" 
 
 "Which is?" said the other suggestively. 
 
 Rowe laughed, an unpleasant laugh that was 
 characteristic of him, and reached for the wine. 
 
 "That, my simple friend, I am not going to re- 
 veal," said he politely. "But its efficacy you need 
 not doubt. Has it not sufficed so far? Why should 
 you doubt that it will work in future, until we have 
 sucked this simple American gentleman dry? 
 Paugh ! I hold him in the hollow of my hand !"
 
 THE PEOPLE DOWN-STAIRS 107 
 
 "So you possess knowledge of some secret that 
 he fears the exposure of ! Ah, I suspected as much." 
 
 "I have not said so," replied Rowe, smiling confi- 
 dently at the end of his cigarette. "Be content, 
 .Yznaga, that my knowledge serves its purpose." 
 
 "And serves to keep you leader of this enter- 
 prise !" snapped the visitor. "Very well. Have it as 
 you will ! Thank the blessed saints you have no 
 hold over me! I should dislike to find myself in 
 those nicotine-stained fingers of yours, amigo mio!" 
 
 "Perhaps you are in them," remarked Rowe, 
 amused. 
 
 "I! What nonsense !" 
 
 "How about your connection with this affair? 
 Does it not place you somewhat at my mercy? A 
 respectable member of the International Commerce 
 Committee " 
 
 "Hush !" said the other, paling a trifle. "You are 
 right. I admit the precariousness of my position. 
 But granting that you can control him, and myself, 
 what have you to offer the mob ? The people, or any 
 body of them, must have an idol, or an ideal for 
 which to fight. Nothing else will really arouse them, 
 nor hold them. It must be politics, or emotion. In 
 this case, as you are well aware, the political side of
 
 io8 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 the question is not sufficiently strong. Can you in- 
 vent an ideal that will appeal strongly enough to 
 start a revolution? Here we have the cart-before- 
 the-mule. In other words, strong financial backing; 
 a patron whom we (or rather you) can absolutely 
 control; a complete knowledge of our country; 
 everything, in fact, except the sentiment of the peo- 
 ple. In short, it is a highway to power for us both, 
 blocked by the apathy of half a million ragged half- 
 breeds!" 
 
 "Yznaga, my esteemed and admired friend," be- 
 gan Rowe, never losing his amused smile, "you 
 are such a charming, well-bred, representative per- 
 son that you fit the role of pseudo cabinet minister 
 to perfection ; and you are such a fool, that you are 
 the ideal minister of state. I don't wonder that our 
 respected patron actually believes you are what you 
 represent yourself to be !" 
 
 The man opposite sprang to his feet with an oath. 
 
 "A fool!" he cried; "you call me a fool?" 
 
 "Sit down, and stop confirming my opinions so 
 nicely," grinned Rowe, "or you may bring the house 
 down about our ears with that yelling." 
 
 Yznaga complied, but sat frowning.
 
 THE PEOPLE DOWN-STAIRS 109 
 
 "Very well," said he, "say what you like. But 
 calling me a fool will not prove you a wise man." 
 
 "Admitted," said Rowe. "But I am wiseacre 
 enough to be forehanded about a matter like this of 
 public sentiment in our beloved country. Let me ask 
 you a question. What would the people rise for? 
 Think well. You know the answer !" 
 
 Yznaga was silent for a moment, rubbing the 
 palms of his hands together as he thought hard. At 
 last he spoke, but it was as one who mentions a de- 
 sirable but unobtainable circumstance. 
 
 "There is Signora Daussa and her child," said he 
 slowly. "But of course that is out of the question. 
 No one knows where they are, and in all probability 
 they were killed during the big uprising." 
 
 "That was never known as a certainty," said 
 Rowe with meaning. 
 
 Yznaga looked up sharply. 
 
 "You mean to say " he began. 
 
 Rowe raised a hand, warning him to silence. 
 
 "Listen !" he said, "I have for years known the 
 whereabouts of our ex-president's wife, and am in 
 daily hourly communication with her. Indeed, 
 she is less than a mile from this very spot ! She has
 
 i io THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 practically no English, and therefore it is safe 
 enough to take her about with me a little sometimes. 
 As for explanations ; that is easy. She has no money 
 except what she could get for her few jewels, and 
 she has deigned to accept my assistance. She is ac- 
 cepting it for a purely personal service, also, which 
 is confidential, and which consequently I can not tell 
 you. But all this is irrelevant. The main thing 
 that I wish you to understand is the fact that I 
 have in her the one thing which will create a popular 
 feeling. In other words, her restitution!" 
 
 "If the others the doubting ones could but see 
 her once, we would have them with us heart and 
 soul !" said Yznaga. 
 
 Rowe thought for a moment. 
 
 "Yes," said he, "I had intended that they should, 
 of course, sooner or later. In a few weeks' time they 
 shall see her. In the meantime your work will be to 
 prepare their minds for that event You must take 
 bogus messages from her to them; give them every 
 confidence that she is in sympathy with the move- 
 ment. But one thing must be strictly observed. He- 
 of-whom-you-know must be told nothing of her ex- 
 istence until I give the word. Remember that. To 
 be frank with you, I do not believe that she will be
 
 THE PEOPLE DOWN-STAIRS in 
 
 Jn sympathy with us. She cares little for pomp or 
 power. When the time comes for her to see the 
 others, they must be warned to say very little to her, 
 and I shall see to it that she, on her part, does not be- 
 tray the ignorance in which I think it will be best to 
 keep her." 
 
 "As you will!" replied Yznaga. "I am too much 
 dazed by this revelation to dispute with you. I shall 
 go now, and during the next few weeks I shall pro- 
 cure those estimates. And now good night!" 
 
 "Via usted con Dios!" said Rowe as to a beggar, 
 closing the door after him. 
 
 As long as the sound of Yznaga's footsteps could 
 he heard, Rowe sat staring in the direction of them, 
 nodding his head meditatively. 
 
 "He, too, loves her," he said aloud, "and will not 
 move alone, or in the dark, for fear of hurting her." 
 
 Then he turned and gathered up the unsigned 
 documents that Yznaga had thrown upon the table, 
 his face clouding again at the sight of them. 
 
 "He is right; we are too conspicuous, living so 
 closely," he muttered ; "we must go about, and seem 
 like other folk."
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 A PARTY IN THE ALLEY 
 
 FOR the five weeks that led into the heart of 
 the winter, Pedro worked almost incessantly. 
 
 From daylight till dark he scarcely left the studio, 
 and only at night (when they were not too tired) 
 would he go forth with Leigh upon what they began 
 to call "perception prowls." At other times they 
 would sit together and read, or talk; sometimes in 
 the wide cushioned ingle-nook at Pedro's ; again in 
 tilted chairs, their boots upon the rim of Leigh's 
 stove. Every topic under the sun was brought forth 
 and threshed out; yet the more they talked, the more 
 they found to say, usually ending their arguments by 
 an arrival at similar conclusions. And gradually the 
 magic of companionable silence would creep upon 
 them, while the sculptor lighted pipe after pipe, and 
 the white stumps of Pedro's cigarettes strewed the 
 hearth. 
 
 Leigh was a man who made few friends; thus it 
 came about that Pedro met hardly any other people. 
 
 112
 
 A PARTY IN THE ALLEY 113 
 
 But he was well content that such should be the case, 
 delighting as he did in Leigh's society, and utterly 
 satisfied with the gentle adventures upon which the 
 latter led him. 
 
 Strange little cafes served them, and sometimes 
 more pretentious places. When Leigh was flush, 
 they dined at Mouquin's, in the mirrored room 
 down-stairs, where Bohemians and friends of Bohe- 
 mians foregather to sit side by side upon the leather- 
 covered sofas against the wall, hold their ladies' 
 hands beneath the table, drink the excellent and in- 
 expensive wine, and eat that most adorable salad 
 with the garlic in it. Here the air was thick with 
 cigarette smoke and art talk with talk of work, of 
 salad dressing, and of love of love, alas! both 
 bought and given. Truly it is a delicious place; but 
 you must go to the cafe down-stairs. 
 
 The symphony concerts began, and from the top- 
 most seats in that vast hall which bears its donor's 
 name, they sat and gazed adown the shelving sea of 
 faces, flecked, foam-like, with fluttering programs, 
 to where, upon the island of the stage, a collection 
 of insects great crickets, ants, grasshoppers and 
 katydids rbrought forth divine music at the waving 
 of a magic wand.
 
 ii4 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY, 
 
 Through the Fall Academy they wandered, too, 
 and smaller exhibitions in the backs of shops, and in 
 the lesser galleries. And from one of these latter 
 visits came about Pedro's choice of the great De 
 Bush as his future adviser. Ah ! there was a painter 
 for you ! 
 
 Once they attended a prize-fight, gaining an en- 
 trance with great difficulty, and, with the crowd, be- 
 ing obliged to disperse before the contest was ended, 
 much to the relief of Pedro, who found it not at all 
 to his taste. 
 
 Of all the topics they found to dissect, architecture 
 was a favorite, and they would sometimes stand gaz- 
 ing up the front of a tall building, discussing its 
 merits or demerits, with many an emphatic gesture. 
 Soon a little crowd would gather to see what the 
 matter was, and sometimes Leigh would address 
 them, explaining that the building was good, or bad, 
 and why. The crowd generally melted away before 
 he had finished, but the two friends were not in the 
 least discouraged by this, and continued to feel that 
 they were awakening the public taste. 
 
 Another evening occupation lay in walking where 
 the crowds were thickest Broadway at eleven p. m., 
 the Bowery, the teeming avenues at nightfall.
 
 A PARTY IN THE ALLEY 115 
 
 And gradually these began to appear upon the can- 
 vases that Pedro started, only to fling away, half- 
 finished. The lady with the cake of soap, he did 
 complete, however, and as Leigh had predicted, he 
 sold it for a very decent price. Thus the smiling 
 soap-lady was providing his food, while the house in 
 which he lived, as developments showed, belonged 
 to his benefactor. 
 
 That this rose-colored existence should continue 
 forever was taken for granted by Pedro, whose sole 
 lack was Mr. Jones. But one day Leigh sent word 
 that he had been called out of town by a commission, 
 and might be gone a week or more. 
 
 During the span of six days Pedro managed very 
 well alone, simply getting up earlier than ever, and 
 working harder ; for Leigh had come to satisfy him 
 so completely that he fancied no one else could take 
 the sculptor's place. On the seventh day, Leigh not 
 having as yet returned, he ate a solitary meal, and 
 feeling lonely, went to the gallery of a theater. 
 
 The play was a melodramatic affair, and on either 
 hand sat people who refused to respond to his criti- 
 cal analysis of the dramatist's work; so, after the 
 second act, he left, much bored, and filled with a 
 longing for dancing and companions, for laughter
 
 ii6 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 and inconsequential talk : a most natural and whole- 
 some desire for the amusements common to his years. 
 
 "I wish," said Pedro aloud, "that I was going to 
 a party." 
 
 The night was gray-cold and the sidewalks 
 showed damp, treacherously slippery stains. Around 
 the corners whipped a keen north wind. He turned 
 into deserted Fifth Avenue, and began to walk 
 down-town rapidly. As he went, a splendid man- 
 sion, behind whose shaded windows glowed warm 
 lights, attracted his attention. Into its awninged 
 door the guests were pouring, and a faint blast of 
 music came out to him as he paused for a moment 
 beside the yawning canvas tunnel. A miserable cat 
 curled itself about his legs, but when he stopped to 
 pet it, the creature bounded away into the darkness 
 of the area. Pedro walked on, and again he said 
 aloud : 
 
 "I really do want to go to a party !" 
 
 Then a thought struck him. If a party was what 
 he wanted to go to why not go to one? There 
 were the cafes but no! He wanted a real party, 
 with invited guests, and laughter, and refreshments, 
 hospitality offered. From side to side he glanced at 
 the houses as he passed, confident, and hesitating
 
 A PARTY IN THE ALLEY. 117 
 
 merely that he might choose the better. But no 
 party presented itself, while the trail led farther and 
 farther down-town. Soon an occasional loft building 
 arose between the dwellings and atop the latter, the 
 northern skylights became more numerous. But most 
 of these were dark, or showed only faint glimmers 
 of light, like lamps of timid souls, who feared the 
 subtle night. 
 
 Was there really no party at which he might be 
 welcome? The cruel, inhospitable, and self-suf- 
 ficient attitude of the city now struck him for the 
 first time. Abstractedly he had seen it; concretely, 
 as touching himself, he had not realized it before. 
 Why, why could he find no open door? He was 
 nice; he was perhaps even charming, he thought. 
 Yet he was alone, and he did not want to be. It was 
 so little that he asked just the right to laugh and 
 talk with his kind and no place offered save sa- 
 loons, and dens of ... 
 
 Suddenly he felt like a prisoner, jailed in a prison 
 that is limitless, yet cramped because it is, in fact 
 a prison. To shake off this morbid fancy, he began 
 to run, and sped through the silent frosty streets as 
 though the gruesome sardonic spirit of civilization 
 was speeding after him with handcuffs.
 
 ii8 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY, 
 
 Breathless at last, and indignantly helpless, he 
 came to a standstill beside the open gateway of a 
 little impasse that had once or twice attracted his 
 passing attention. From wall to wall it was paved 
 with uneven flagging, and down the center ran an 
 open gutter. The buildings were squat two-story 
 affairs of old brick, and had once been stables, but 
 as he looked more closely, the light of the scattered 
 bracket-lamps revealed the fact that they had been 
 converted into studios. At the windows of most 
 clustered flower-boxes and trellised vines, dead now, 
 and shriveled. An occasional doorway had been 
 beautified by the handicraft of the inhabitant. 
 
 Near the entrance, one building, which retained 
 the wide stable-doors, showed a white litter on its 
 sill, as though a stone shop was within, and on the 
 floor above it an immovable silhouette against the 
 drawn curtain proclaimed that a sculptor dwelt 
 there. All the other buildings but one were dark, 
 and like a bit of the old world, the miniature street 
 nestled timidly almost in the shadow of its giant 
 neighbors, the sky-scrapers. At its hospitable aspect 
 Pedro felt better directly. From the lighted build- 
 ing, half-way down its limited stretch, a soft radi-
 
 A PARTY IN THE ALLEY 119 
 
 ance shone out, uncurtained and cheery, and the 
 sounds of revelry came muffled to his ear. Quite 
 shamelessly he walked to where its window met level 
 with his shoulder, and flattening his nose against the 
 pane, looked in. 
 
 A dimly lit room full of animated people met his 
 gaze. A youth, with a cigarette dangling from the 
 corner of his mouth, was playing softly on the 
 piano, while just beyond, two people were dancing. 
 Immediately in front of the watcher was a row of 
 heads, their owners being seated upon a bench which 
 ran directly beneath the window. These heads some- 
 what obstructed Pedro's view of the interior, but 
 they were interesting in themselves. Two were 
 men's, seated at the farther end. One of them was 
 slightly bald, the meager black hair brushed across 
 it in ineffectual whisps. The other's hair was brown, 
 thick and close-curling, with the vigor of youth and 
 health. These two wagged and bobbed in animated 
 discussion. The head next to them was a woman's, 
 gray and ill-dressed. Then came the last two, just 
 in front of Pedro, those of a man and a girl. Her 
 yellow curls lay aslant his collar in the most naive 
 manner. The youth's head was sleek and dark, and
 
 120 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 the cords at the back of his neck gave Pedro the no- 
 tion that he was not comfortable, but did not dare to 
 move for fear of offending the lady. 
 
 Suddenly the street door was flung wide to emit a 
 little knot of men who carried between them the limp 
 form of a woman. Pedro drew back into the shad- 
 ows and watched. 
 
 The exact nature of the trouble he could not de- 
 termine, and neither could he see the woman very 
 distinctly, but the air seemed to revive her, and pres- 
 ently a cab appeared, into which she was put, and 
 driven off with one of the men. The rest then re- 
 entered the house, closing the door with a bang. The 
 little episode affected Pedro strangely. Why should 
 he be so distressed at what was in no way connected 
 with him, he wondered? Could the woman have 
 been hurt, perhaps seriously? But no! The music 
 within had begun again, and some one was singing. 
 Surely nothing very terrible could have happened. 
 At any rate, he would not permit it to depress him. 
 He longed to be gay. 
 
 Again he stepped to the inviting window and 
 pressed his face against it, only to be confronted in- 
 stantly by a mass of red-gold hair! At first he 
 could scarcely believe his eyes; but it was true
 
 A PARTY IN THE ALLEY 121 
 
 there was no mistaking those gleaming braids she 
 was there, the Madonna Lady, standing within the 
 warm room, her shoulder turned toward him. Act- 
 ing on a sudden impulse, Pedro ran to the door, and 
 knocked. 
 
 Almost at once, it was opened by a little man with 
 a smooth boyish face and sandy hair. Although 
 far from handsome, the magnetism of his personal- 
 ity struck Pedro immediately, awakening an answer- 
 ing chord in the latter. For a moment the little man 
 looked the boy over, and then his weird expressive 
 face broke into a smile. 
 
 "Were you looking for Milligan?" he asked. 
 
 "I was looking for a party," said Pedro, smiling 
 in return. 
 
 "Well, there's several inside," said the little man, 
 waving a hand toward the dimly lighted room be- 
 hind him. "Some friend of yours here?" 
 
 "I just wanted " began Pedro, when a girl's 
 voice broke in. 
 
 "He is a friend of mine, Don," said the red-haired 
 girl, emerging from the crowded studio. She had 
 noted his entrance and immediately made her way 
 toward him. "Aren't you going to let him in?'' she 
 concluded.
 
 122 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 One would have sworn that she had been expect- 
 ing him, thought Pedro. Evidently she had not for- 
 got the roadside encounter. 
 
 "Pedro is the humble servant of you both," said 
 he, with that sweeping bow of his. 
 
 "And this is Mr. Milligan, our host," said she. 
 
 The two shook hands, and even while Milligan 
 muttered something by way of acknowledging the 
 introduction, he was carried off by a phalanx of men 
 who came up, clamoring for more beer. With a 
 
 
 
 swift gesture the girl beckoned to Pedro, and he fol- 
 lowed up a narrow winding staircase which brought 
 them out upon the little balcony. The Madonna 
 Lady seated herself upon a divan and motioned 
 Pedro to follow suit. Below them, in the studio, the 
 crowd surged dimly like a wind-blown flower gar- 
 den in the afterglow of sundown. The corner of the 
 balcony that she had chosen, however, was prac- 
 tically deserted. As he took the proffered seat, she 
 seemed suddenly overcome with shyness. Perhaps 
 the realization of her unusual act had frightened her, 
 and she rather dreaded its consequences. But Pedro 
 was less timid now than when his bear had rescued 
 her, and besides, he was desperately lonely. As he
 
 A PARTY IN THE ALLEY 123 
 
 spoke, that musical voice of his, with its soft foreign 
 intonation, was inaudible two feet away. 
 
 "Madonna, I saw you through the window, and I 
 could not resist coming in, even though I was a 
 stranger to the house." 
 
 She smiled at him. 
 
 "You saved me just in time," he continued, "else I 
 might have failed of entrance." 
 
 "And you really came because you saw me?" 
 
 "For what other reason?" said he. "Madonna, 
 what is your name?" 
 
 "Iris," said she, lifting her great eyes that were 
 like those selfsame blossoms. "My father's name is 
 Vanderpool. What other name have you, beside 
 Pedro?" 
 
 "I have no other," he replied after an almost im- 
 perceptible pause. 
 
 She raised her head, as if in disbelief. Ah ! that 
 wonderful line from chin to breast! Surely some 
 day he must contrive to paint it. 
 
 "I am speaking as I must," he told her. "Will 
 you not believe me when I say that the only name I 
 can give you is that which you have heard?" 
 
 This had a perfume of mystery, but while it added
 
 124 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 to her already keen interest in him, she maintained 
 her pose of offense. 
 
 "If it was only to be unkind, why did you rescue 
 me just now?" he asked. 
 
 She laughed a little. 
 
 "You once saved me from real danger," she re- 
 plied; "the least I could do was to spare you, in 
 turn." 
 
 The eyes with which she looked at him were kind 
 now. From sheer pleasure of watching one so lovely 
 he fell into her mood. Not to do so in such an atmos- 
 phere was impossible. The dimness, the fantastic 
 appearance of the place, the delight of human com- 
 panionship, all combined to entrap him. Around 
 the piano a group was singing softly in close har- 
 mony, while the rest listened, or flirted in whispers, 
 or, better yet, in silence. Swiftly Pedro leaned to- 
 ward her. In his eyes shone a light that might 
 have meant pure mischief, but this she did not see, 
 for she had turned away her head again. His voice 
 was very sibilant, carrying a subtlety of meaning 
 which was delicate in the extreme. 
 
 "Madonna Iris!" he said, "when you turn your 
 head so, it is lovely beyond words! Do you know 
 that the line of your chin and throat is like the sil-
 
 A PARTY IN THE ALLEY 125 
 
 ver- white edge of the young moon ? Ah ! Now you 
 are angry. Forgive me; but I have dreamed of that 
 line since first I saw you !" 
 
 There was a tense pause between them. The song 
 below stairs was drawing to a close, its rising ca- 
 dence swelling tunefully. 
 
 "No, I am not angry," she said at last in a low 
 voice, looking intently at the sticks of her fan as she 
 spoke. "You see, I had not forgot you, either." 
 
 Again a breathless interlude. The song below was 
 very soft now. Like the echo of a dream it died 
 away. Complete silence reigned for a second. Then 
 a young man, who sat upon the floor in company 
 with half a dozen others, his frowsy head resting 
 against the knees of a temperamental-looking girl 
 behind him, turned his cheek upon the gray-green 
 art stuff of her gown, and gazing soulfully at her, 
 broke the spell with an exaggerated whisper. 
 
 "Je suis si heureux!" he sighed. And instantly the 
 laughter and applause broke out clamorously. The 
 young man at the piano struck up a waltz. Excite- 
 ment leaped in Pedro's eyes. 
 
 "I shall not give you chance to forget!" he ex- 
 claimed to his companion. But before she could re- 
 ply, a youth who had been watching her, rushed up
 
 126 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 and claimed her for the dance. With a smile she 
 was gone ; and in a few moments he saw her and her 
 partner emerge upon the floor below. She wore a 
 green gown of some silky clinging material, neither 
 defaced with trimming nor detracted from by orna- 
 ments, and she danced beautifully. 
 
 While he stood watching her, a man joined him, 
 and after a nod and the proffer of a cigarette, which 
 was accepted, stood beside him at the balcony rail. 
 
 This new acquaintance was a thick-set young man, 
 blond and rugged of feature. He was not in even- 
 ing clothes indeed, only two or three of the men 
 were and he did not look over-prosperous. But he 
 fairly radiated energy and enthusiasm, and his face 
 was strong and arresting. For several moments they 
 stood looking down into the crowd. 
 
 It was an interesting gathering, mainly because of 
 the physiognomy of the people. There seemed to be 
 no repetition of type among them, every face bearing 
 its own special meaning, each having the stamp of a 
 purpose ; yet for the moment all were care-free, as is 
 the way of earnest workers when at play. The 
 women were apparently dressed in whatever clothes 
 had best suited their convenience; some in high- and 
 some in low-necked gowns. One even wore a tail-
 
 A PARTY IN THE ALLEY 127 
 
 ored suit, and an uncompromising little hat, as 
 though she had happened in incidentally. She 
 danced, however, with as much enjoyment and aban- 
 don as her neighbor in frilled muslin. Some 
 wore the smoothly braided hair, and "artistic" un- 
 becoming style of dress generally affected by the 
 female art student; and others, like Iris, were fash- 
 ionable in the extreme. 
 
 The men were no less heterogeneous, their ap- 
 pearance ranging from the shock-headed to the 
 sleek, with clothing to correspond. Oddly assorted, 
 of widely varying ages, they nevertheless made as 
 real a "party" as heart could desire. Everybody 
 smoked, some even while dancing. Through the 
 overhanging haze, Pedro could see, in a screened-off 
 corner, the man who had admitted him helping a 
 plump and pleasing woman of about thirty to open 
 some bottles. By her busy air, and merry solicitude 
 for all within hailing distance of her, he deduced 
 that she was the hostess, although contrary to the 
 habit of such, she was enjoying herself thoroughly. 
 
 "You're new to this crowd?" asked the man at his 
 elbow. 
 
 "Yes," said Pedro. Then brazenly "A friend of 
 Miss Vanderpool's."
 
 128 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 "Ah !" said the man. "She's a good dancer !" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Not like the other, though; eh, what?" 
 
 "What other?" asked Pedro. 
 
 "Why, Ruth St. Johns, of course! Didn't you 
 see it?" 
 
 "I came in late," Pedro explained. "Sorry I did 
 not see it Tell me who some of these people are," 
 he added. "Who is the little man, the host?" 
 
 "Yes, that's Don Milligan," replied the man, seem- 
 ingly not in the least surprised at finding a guest 
 who was ignorant of the host's name. "He sure is a 
 nice little fellow a corker, Don is. Not a bad 
 painter, either, though he's never done as good work 
 since he's married. Can't, of course. They have a 
 kid, you see, and they've got to live. His wife's a 
 wonder. Ask any of the boys! That's Bell over 
 there, talking to Gester, the sculptor. He eats with 
 them all the time; just fairly lives here. She's the 
 best little hostess in the world. Why, it's nothing to 
 her to feed a whole bunch at a moment's notice. And 
 witty ! And good fun ! Say, you ought to get asked 
 here to dinner some time. Talk? Believe me, we 
 have some conversations. That's their cousin, Irma
 
 A PARTY IN THE ALLEY 129 
 
 Wise, the suffrage lady, in the pretty blue dress. A 
 regular dandy, too." 
 
 "And the tall man with the so sadly drooping 
 necktie?" inquired Pedro. 
 
 "Talking to Heskall's wife? That's a bum poet 
 named Nicholls. Hey, you ink-splasher!" he called 
 suddenly. Whereat, the poet looked about him 
 vaguely, as though recognizing his name, and waved 
 an empty beer-bottle in the general direction from 
 whence the sound came. Pedro's informant con- 
 tinued : 
 
 "He's dippy about Margot Leeds, with the silver 
 chain around her throat the lanky girl in the blue 
 window-curtain effect. She makes 'em I mean the 
 silver chains. Those two fellows eating the sand- 
 wiches all up are the Kensalls, who do such a lot of 
 those bully drawings for the cover of Gopher's and 
 the shirt advertisements. They always look glum 
 like that I think it's indigestion, for they are al- 
 ways eating, and they do it so darned fast." 
 
 "Doubtless," said Pedro. 
 
 "That fellow with the wonderful figure is a writer. 
 He lived with me in Paris. (We're just back this 
 year.) He's a model, also. You ought to see his
 
 130 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOYi 
 
 arms Gee! they're wonderful! Carrington, who 
 draws half the book-covers in the states pretty girl 
 heads, you know (rotten stuff, but there's money in 
 it) he's down there. Looks like a robin. See him, 
 the one with the glasses on ?" 
 
 And so he rattled on, saying the names so familiar 
 to himself, so suggestive of success, so otherwise 
 meaningless to Pedro, who never looked twice at 
 anything unless it were exceptionally good, and con- 
 sequently heard most of these names for the first 
 time. 
 
 "By; the way, what are you?" asked the man, ab- 
 ruptly breaking off his monologue. 
 
 "Painter," replied Pedro. 
 
 "I'm on the Sun" said the man. "Theodore Pell 
 is my name. Not here to do this party, though. All 
 friends of mine here. Wouldn't be such a rotter, you 
 know. What's your name ?" 
 
 "I am Pedro," said the other with such quiet as- 
 surance that the reporter made no comment, and 
 searched his memory frantically, trying to place a 
 well-known artist of that name. The boy spoke as 
 if he said, "I am Sargent" Who the devil could he 
 be?
 
 A PARTY IN THE ALLEY 131 
 
 There was a slight commotion at the lower door- 
 way, and a splendid old man entered. 
 
 "Why, there is Rives De Bush !" exclaimed Pell. 
 "Didn't know he came here !" 
 
 "Ah ! the great one !" cried Pedro. "I must speak 
 to him." 
 
 And without further apology he rushed off, leav- 
 ing the still greatly puzzled reporter staring after 
 him and repeating, "Pedro, Pedro one of the new 
 Spaniards, I suppose." 
 
 While still debating the matter, and frowning 
 over it, he was joined by the friend whom he had re- 
 ferred to as a writer and professional model. This 
 youth was named Blaume, and came nearer to re- 
 sembling the Greek gods than do the general run of 
 young gentlemen nowadays. He was rather con- 
 scious of this, and also prided himself on acquaint- 
 ance with, or knowledge of, most of the well-known 
 creative people of two continents. At his approach 
 an idea occurred to Pell : he would make a test Ac- 
 cordingly he sprang his mine almost immediately. 
 
 "Do you know that Pedro is here to-night?" he 
 asked, watching Blaume closely as he put the ques- 
 tion.
 
 132 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 Blaume had never heard the name before, but 
 judging from the other's tone that the person re- 
 ferred to was one with whose accomplishments it 
 was proper to be familiar, he simulated knowledge. 
 
 "You don't say so!" he exclaimed interestedly. 
 "Where is he?" 
 
 "Down there talking to De Bush," replied Pell, 
 confirmed in the idea that he had hitherto overlooked 
 a celebrity. 
 
 "That young fellow?" cried Blaume. "Why, I'd 
 no idea he was such a kid !" 
 
 "Nor I," replied Pell. 
 
 Whereby Pedro became famous. 
 
 At that particular moment he was extracting a 
 promise from the great man to come and see his 
 work, with a view to giving a regular criticism. The 
 sheer audacity of the request was probably what ob- 
 tained the desired consent. Such a thing, in such a 
 way, had never been asked of De Bush before. But 
 Pedro had smiled, and his earnest starlike eyes had 
 done the rest. When Pell and Blaume approached 
 them, the famous painter and the youthful one were 
 chatting like the old friends which Pell instantly as- 
 sumed them to be. The boy's lack of timidity, and 
 frank delight in his new master's talk, charmed De
 
 A PARTY IN THE ALLEY 133 
 
 Bush, who was too well accustomed to that loneli- 
 ness which is the fate often forced upon the mighty 
 by an over-respectful public. The shaggy head was 
 raised in lionine majesty to greet the reporter. 
 
 "My young friend here has just been telling me 
 that he is occupying Sam Hill's studio," said De 
 Bush. "Hill is going to be away for a year. We 
 shall miss him at The Players." 
 
 "Will you be here all winter?" Pell inquired of 
 Pedro. 
 
 "Yes," said he. 
 
 "What, in particular, are you going to paint in 
 America?" continued the reporter. Whereat the in- 
 nocent and unsuspecting Pedro launched into an en- 
 thusiastic explanation of some of his pet theories. 
 
 In the midst of these he spied Iris (for the mo- 
 ment seated alone) and, excusing himself, he made 
 his way toward her. As soon as his back was turned, 
 Pell pulled out his notebook and began making jot- 
 tings. 
 
 "Said he knew Leigh well. Hum! friend of De 
 Bush. Great stuff, this! Wonder why I never 
 heard of him before?" he muttered, writing rapidly. 
 Then he slipped into his overcoat, and left hurriedly. 
 
 Meanwhile Pedro resumed his little flirtation,
 
 134 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 quite unconscious that Iris had been watching him 
 all evening with an increasing disturbance of the 
 heart How romantic, how charming a figure he ap- 
 peared to her, he could not guess ; nor that the game 
 he played so lightly was already in fair way to be- 
 come a serious matter in her mind. As she listened 
 to his talk, half jesting, half inspired, always poetic, 
 she could not but compare him with Hill, greatly to 
 the loss of the latter. Of her former lover she made 
 no mention; neither did Pedro have occasion to 
 speak of Hill; so that when they parted, it was with- 
 out knowledge of their mutual acquaintance. She 
 gave him her address and asked him to lunch with 
 her next day. His first impulse was to refuse. There 
 was his work ! Then the thought of how pleasant it 
 would be to go took hold of him, and for once work 
 was relegated to second place. Yes ! he would give 
 her one whole precious hour out of the very heart of 
 the day, a rare gift, indeed. 
 
 "Madonna Lady, I will be there!" he said, as he 
 helped her into her carriage. 
 
 Then he closed its door and allowed her to be 
 whirled away, as she sat very erect, with glowing 
 checks. To herself she was whispering with fast- 
 beating heart, "Have I found my ideal ?"
 
 A PARTY IN THE ALLEY 135 
 
 Pedro gazed after the smart brougham, laughed 
 slightly, frowned, snapped his fingers and said, 
 "What's the harm?" 
 
 Then, bidding his hosts good night, and prom- 
 ising to return soon, he conceded with alacrity to De 
 Bush's request for an arm, and set off with the rest 
 of the gay throng that poured from the Milligans' 
 hospitable door, laughing, and hasting through the 
 first snow of the year, into which they stepped, sur- 
 prised.
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 OF REVOLUTIONARY SAVOR 
 
 MEANWHILE, the cab into which the lady 
 who had fainted had been carried, and which 
 Pedro had seen drive away from Milligan's door 
 before he gained entrance there, was halted after it 
 had gone less than three blocks, and the directions 
 that had been given before the assembled guests, 
 changed to that of a little unknown cafe opposite 
 Central Park, and some five miles up-town. 
 
 Without protest at the distance, or even exacting 
 the promise of a larger fare, the cabby obeyed the 
 order; the cab was wheeled about and headed 
 
 northward. 
 
 Inside, against the cushioned wall Senora Daussa 
 had laid her head, her cheeks pale, but her wide dark 
 eyes showing that she had returned to consciousness. 
 She was a beautiful woman of that rare type, a 
 blond Spaniard (than which there is no fairer), and 
 although she was close to forty years of age, her 
 slender graceful figure and erect carriage made her 
 
 136
 
 OF REVOLUTIONARY SAVOR 137 
 
 appear younger. To the man beside her, she seemed 
 the very incarnation of loveliness, as indeed she had 
 always appeared in his eyes. Her dress, distinctly 
 un-American, and by no means of the latest fashion, 
 was yet worn with chic and distinction, and beto- 
 kened a personal daintiness that was almost ex- 
 treme. About her head and shoulders fell a large 
 dark cloak, from which her face glimmered like a 
 pearl. Her companion made a little motion, as if to 
 caress her, but instead of responding, she shrank 
 back from him silently. 
 
 "Madame, you must not sing in public again ! 
 It is very charming, but too conspicuous," he said in 
 Spanish. "You must not sing when we are in 
 public." 
 
 She replied in the same language. 
 
 "You must not try to touch me again when we are 
 alone." 
 
 Impatiently he dropped his hands to his sides. 
 
 "Will you deign to be reasonable?" he begged. 
 "Let us keep to the subject It is essential to our 
 cause that we appear as the best of friends as 
 brother and sister." 
 
 "In public, yes since you insist," she interrupted, 
 "but when we are alone there is no need to maintain
 
 138 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 the farce. You have no right whatever to lay hands 
 upon me. It is a breach of trust." 
 
 "Forgive me," he answered quite humbly, "I 
 forget sometimes, because you drive me mad espe- 
 cially when I waltz with you as to-night. Sometimes 
 I believe you scarcely realize I am your partner, al- 
 though we are dancing together. You seem to be in 
 a sort of trance. I feel as though it were your soul 
 that was dancing, and I a mere manikin you accept 
 mechanically. But you set me afire none the less! 
 Carmen, it is not without reason that I have served 
 you these many years ; you must you do know that 
 it is because I love you ! And this being constantly 
 together, though it has not made my plight less 
 hopeless, has not made it easier to endure." 
 
 "I did not mean to seem ungrateful, Ricardo," she 
 answered softly, pathetically even. "Indeed, I know 
 you serve me well, and why, but let us drop this 
 too painful subject. I can never be anything to you 
 but a friend, and so it is better to keep away from 
 speech of such things as can only cause us both pain. 
 I like you well; that, at least, you know. Did I not 
 dance with you to-night ? I danced with no one else 
 but you !" 
 
 "Yes!" he said through his teeth. "But it must
 
 OF REVOLUTIONARY SAVOR 139 
 
 not occur again. It is too conspicuous, I tell you ! 
 We shall be observed too closely, and then trou- 
 ble!" 
 
 She was silent for a moment at this ; then : 
 
 "If you do not wish me to be noticed, why do you 
 make me go about with you at times? It is seldom 
 enough that I go ; but I would willingly stay at home 
 altogether, and leave the quest in your hands alone." 
 
 "Listen, Carmen," said he; "I shall again explain. 
 We must appear normal people it is indispensable, 
 believe me! What would seem stranger than that 
 you should never leave your rooms? The minute 
 that any one does the least unusual thing he begins 
 to attract attention and suspicion. Those who ap- 
 pear normal and uninteresting pass unnoticed. Be- 
 lieve me, I am doing all in my power to locate your 
 lover. With your almost total lack of English, it 
 would be an impossible task for you. Truly, I am 
 beginning to think that he may be past finding." 
 
 Her voice was chilled by the force of control 
 which she put upon herself as she replied : 
 
 "I have but one reason for thinking that." 
 
 "Which is?" he queried, peering anxiously at her 
 through the gloom. 
 
 "My letters!" she said hoarsely. "Why does he
 
 140 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 not answer them ? Do they not reach him ? And if 
 not, for what reason ?" 
 
 "I can not imagine," said he. "As you know, I 
 have myself carried them to the post with every, 
 care." 
 
 "You are kind to me, Ricardo," she said gently, 
 laying her hand upon his in sudden gratitude. 
 
 In an instant he had seized her hand and covered 
 it with burning kisses. Moaning, she snatched it 
 away and drew back, shivering, into her corner. 
 
 "I I will leave you!" she cried. "You torment 
 me more than I can endure. It is not fair. I will go, 
 and somehow, I will manage for myself." 
 
 Putting her hand on the carriage door, she made 
 a motion as though she actually intended to leap 
 from the moving vehicle. 
 
 Suddenly the man grew frightened. On the in- 
 stant he became quiet, and dissembling his alarm, he 
 spoke gravely. 
 
 "You can not go !" he said, forcing her to desist. 
 "There is something else. Do you know where we 
 are bound to-night? Ah! there is a matter on foot 
 of deeper import than you have guessed ; and if you 
 leave me now, you will ruin us. Will you do this 
 after my years of service? Do nothing rash, noth-
 
 OF REVOLUTIONARY SAVOR 141 
 
 ing which will bring us before the eyes of the au- 
 thorities. Don't start so ! I have committed no mur- 
 der, no theft ! But listen, and believe me when I tell 
 you that it is of the most vital importance that we re- 
 main in oblivion for some weeks yet. Further, I will 
 tell you one thing the matter to which J refer, and 
 upon which we are abroad to-night, concerns our 
 dear country. More I can not say at present, but I 
 know that this much will be sufficient to your patri- 
 otic soul." 
 
 "I will stay, Ricardo," she replied, startled by his 
 intenseness. "Indeed, I can do nothing else. As 
 you say, I have no money, no English ; how could I 
 go ? But promise me, swear once again that no mat- 
 ter what affair may be engrossing you what poli- 
 tics, what secret that you will not cease to search 
 for him." 
 
 "I swear," said he eagerly. 
 
 "For him, and for that other, even more dear," 
 she added, her eyes wide and luminous. 
 
 "And the other," he repeated. 
 
 As though satisfied she leaned back wearily, and 
 closed her eyes. 
 
 The cab was jogging past a row of palaces now, a 
 heterogeneous collection, Venetian rubbing shoulders
 
 142 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 with Greek, Colonial, Elizabethian, what you will; 
 no type being missing, and many of the structures 
 embodying them all at once. A motley terrace this, 
 yet stately withal and typical of wealth. Opposite, 
 the park loomed dark and silent under its burden of 
 snow. On and on they went, and farther up-town 
 there began to be an occasional gap in the splendid 
 row of houses. Then came blocks where vacant lots 
 made up the streets. They passed the old Lenox 
 Library, mausoleum-like and dark; and later, the 
 incongruous facade of the Art Museum. More and 
 more scarce became the palaces, until finally, when 
 the Park's upper end was almost reached, they ap- 
 proached a tiny wooden building only a single story 
 in height, that stood upon a corner. At its back was 
 a vacant lot, while in front its swinging doors faced 
 those of a gorgeous residence, belonging to one of 
 the greatest money-kings. 
 
 The little hovel that imprudently flaunted its 
 vulgar and humble entrance before its palatial 
 neighbor's very eyes, bore the words, SUMMER 
 GARDEN, in a great gilt sign upon its slanting 
 roof edge, and below this, like dependant golden 
 icicles, hung tall letters which, properly grouped 
 and pronounced, informed the passer-by that
 
 OF REVOLUTIONARY SAVOR 143 
 
 RUPERT'S SPECIAL EXTRA BEER could be 
 obtained within. The sidewalk before the hut was 
 wider than elsewhere, owing to the fact of the 
 garden being set far back between the converging 
 ends of the bill-covered fence that enclosed the lot 
 behind it; and on this sidewalk during the summer 
 months, little beer-ringed tables were set out for the 
 greater accommodation of patrons. At this season, 
 however, and more particularly at this hour of night, 
 the little building itself was ample shelter for such 
 customers as were likely to appear. Over the screen 
 of bushes in their little wooden boxes hung a pall of 
 snow, and snow was draped upon the little canvas 
 tent-sign before the door, which displayed the like- 
 ness of a foaming mug on one side, and of a plate of 
 ice-cream on the other. Around these misplaced 
 evidences of summer gaiety the wind howled dis- 
 mally, making the poor little "garden" appear 
 dreary indeed. But that guests still lingered inside 
 was evidenced by the warm light streaming through 
 the opaque glass of the crooked little windows, and 
 by the presence beside the curb of two cabs without 
 drivers, the wretched horses, blanketed but cold, 
 waiting in patient misery. 
 
 To these waiting ones, Rowe's cab was added,
 
 144 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 and the driver, descending from the box, opened the 
 door and peered within. 
 
 "You'd better come quickly, Ricajdo," he said. 
 "It's getting late, and Mike won't stay open all 
 night." 
 
 The lady gave a little cry of surprise and grasped 
 her companion's arm. Evidently the intrusion of the 
 cabby was unexpected by her. 
 
 "Who is it?" she gasped. 
 
 "Look close; it is Sancho, can't you see?" said 
 Rowe. "He is here on that matter of which I spoke. 
 There are other friends inside, and I beg that you 
 will enter for a moment, so they may see that you 
 are alive and well. Your welfare means much to 
 them." 
 
 "Sancho in America !" the lady repeated as though 
 dazed. "Have you any news?" she then asked 
 eagerly. 
 
 "Come inside, gracious one," said the driver. 
 
 She arose to obey. 
 
 "Keep your cloak well about you," commanded 
 Rowe, as he assisted her to alight. "I have brought 
 you here because it is not safe for them to come to 
 us. There is a reward out for Sancho, even now." 
 
 They crossed the pavement and entered the little
 
 OF REVOLUTIONARY SAVOR 145 
 
 hut. Inside were several rooms, for the place was 
 more rambling than appeared from the front; and 
 after a quick greeting of the rosy-cheeked Irishman 
 behind the bar, they crossed the sanded floor to a 
 smaller apartment beyond. In this little lean-to, 
 with its slanting roof and discolored wall-paper, 
 were a table with a red and white damask cloth, half 
 a dozen common deal chairs, and a little round stove, 
 red hot. As soon as the door had closed behind 
 them, the lady, clasping her hands fearfully, glanced 
 from one to the other of the men in manifest anxiety. 
 
 "What word have you, Sancho?" she asked of the 
 driver, who had removed his cap and muffler, reveal- 
 ing a small dark face, lined with evil, which con- 
 trasted oddly with his bulky frame. Before reply- 
 ing, the man glanced at Rowe, as if for instructions. 
 Almost imperceptibly the latter shook his head with- 
 out being observed by the white-faced woman. 
 
 "None," said Sancho, "except that we are almost 
 certain that he is still alive; our own government, in 
 fact, has communicated with him recently." 
 
 "When did you come to America?" she asked, 
 concealing her bitter disappointment. 
 
 "Did you not know, gracious one?" he said. "I 
 came early in the fall, before the abominable snow."
 
 146 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 "But for what?" she cried, perplexed. "For what 
 are we come here? Are you not going to explain at 
 all?" 
 
 "Come!" interrupted Rowe roughly. "You are 
 not to talk, Madame. The walls have ears. Keep 
 silent, I beg. We can not remain here all night, and 
 I have business of importance in the other room. 
 Pardon if we leave you for a moment. You are per- 
 fectly safe." 
 
 Then, beckoning to Sancho, they left, closing the 
 door with care. 
 
 "Is she with us ?" asked the latter as soon as they 
 were outside. Rowe avoided meeting his eyes as he 
 spoke. 
 
 "Certainly," said he. "Did you get the reports 
 that the government sent him last? It is close on 
 two months since we have cornered one. Did you 
 get those that were sent to him in the country ?" 
 
 "No," replied the other. "I have been trying to 
 see you to tell you, but I met with an accident and 
 have been laid up with a broken leg, and I dared not 
 write. To-night is the first time I have been out, 
 and I only came in response to your urgent note. I 
 failed to get the last ones. The daughter was bring- 
 ing them from the post-office, and I tried to snatch
 
 OF REVOLUTIONARY SAVOR 147 
 
 them from her, when a bear a wild thing sprang 
 out of the bushes, and I made off without getting 
 them." 
 
 "Leaving the lady to be eaten, I suppose," said 
 Rowe. "Well, it's too bad. We needed them. It 
 must not occur again." 
 
 The two crossed the tiny corridor and entered the 
 main room again, going directly to where a group of 
 men, five in all, were seated about a corner table. 
 
 These persons all appeared to be artisans of some 
 sort, and by their dress, none too prosperous. All, 
 however, knew Rowe, although they gave him no 
 special greeting. Leaning over in their midst, he 
 spoke quickly in a low voice, again using Spanish. 
 
 "The senora is here," he said, "and has pledged 
 herself to our cause, as I promised you she would do. 
 She will receive you all in token of her pledge, but 
 do not talk too much to her, as she is ill, having 
 fainted earlier in the evening, and is also agitated 
 at this adventure. She has come to you, as you see, 
 at great risk to her reputation. Let us spare her as 
 much as possible." 
 
 There were murmurs of assent, and Yznaga, who 
 was one of the men, spoke up. 
 
 "There are some estimates," he said, "which I
 
 148 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 brought this evening. We can secure a fat bit of 
 graft from the Maxman Arms Company, as well as 
 getting the inventory as soon as he pays for it." 
 
 "Have you them here?" said Rowe. "Let me see." 
 
 "Yes," replied the man, fumbling about in his 
 breast pocket. "Here they are. Sit down a minute 
 and look at them. We shall all have to go directly 
 we have seen her. Mike will be closing up." 
 
 "Yes, I suppose Mikey must sleep some time," 
 agreed Rowe, slipping into a chair. "And, Yznaga, 
 I wouldn't wear that tuxedo on this kind of an ex- 
 cursion again. When you opened your coat just 
 then, it was a sight to provoke curiosity." 
 
 All this was said in a low tone of voice, but the 
 men about the table laughed at it. Rowe, who was 
 himself very inconspicuously, even shabbily dressed, 
 stretched out his hand for the little packet of papers 
 that the man he had just reproved offered him. 
 Evidently, the pseudo-friend of Senora Daussa was 
 the leader among these men. With quick interest he 
 spread the documents, a martial list of rifles and am- 
 munition, upon the table, and at once all seven heads 
 were bent over them, the talk sinking to a humming, 
 scarcely audible three feet away.
 
 OF REVOLUTIONARY SAVOR 149 
 
 It was a curious room in which they sat, and save 
 for themselves it was almost empty. Across one side 
 ran the bar, a machine-carved mahogany atrocity 
 with shining foot-rail and glass-covered counter, 
 behind which ran a large mirror topped by an ob- 
 scene picture. Other mirrors with gilt fly-specked 
 frames were let into the three remaining walls, and 
 at least six almanacs with colored embossed decora- 
 tions hung about. Several chromos of ladies in 
 fleshings and spangles further adorned the walls, 
 and the cigar stand was decorated by an immense 
 photograph of a well-known burlesque actress, clad 
 chiefly in a brilliant smile, with a quotation from her 
 most noted song printed below. "I don't care!" it 
 read, and in truth one could readily believe she 
 didn't Advertisements depended from a little show- 
 case in which some souvenirs were displayed and 
 near this hung a wooden rack filled with postal cards 
 on which were pictured every imaginable subject 
 from the likeness of the Metropolitan Tower to an 
 obviously sham love incident in harsh colors. But 
 these were relics of the past summer, and would not 
 come into use again until several months had passed, 
 when a small freckle-faced boy, a son of the estab-
 
 150 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 lishment, would peddle them to the passengers who 
 rode atop the electric busses that ply up and down 
 the avenue. 
 
 Meanwhile, where in summer an arch (trimmed 
 even now with artificial flowers) led to the scrawny 
 "garden" in the rear lot, a stove had been erected, a 
 hideous affair with brass trimmings, in which the 
 fire was now dying down to a glowing mass of 
 embers. About the floor stood a dozen tables with 
 common cane-bottom chairs grouped around them. 
 Altogether the place was far from festive in appear- 
 ance, and the observer would have been tempted into 
 doubting whether even the gladness of summer could 
 shed a glamour upon it. 
 
 Behind the bar sat Mike, adding up his accounts. 
 He was both owner and barkeeper, and by the grace 
 of the landlord on whose property he squatted and 
 who found Mikey a useful man, he prospered very 
 fairly. A burly young Irishman was Mike, with an 
 innocent open expression that concealed an ocean 
 of guile. He was in politics of more than one kind, 
 and his bar often saw a gathering of those whose 
 names represented an alarming per cent, of the coun- 
 try's wealth, and would have set a socially ambitious 
 hostess to longing. But Mikey was not ambitious
 
 OF REVOLUTIONARY SAVOR 151 
 
 socially. He had no cause to be, seeing as he did, a 
 very intimate side of these men, and even being on 
 terms of pet names with them, notwithstanding that 
 they did not bow to him on the street. 
 
 But to-night, however satisfactory his reckonings, 
 the hour was becoming unconscionably late. From 
 his ledger he glanced at the wide pasty face of the 
 clock opposite, and then at the group at the largest 
 table. Would they never go home? Their glasses 
 were empty. Then suddenly, as one man, they arose 
 and following Rowe (who was friend to Mikey by 
 virtue of a fifty-dollar bill), went to the inner room. 
 They did not enter, but stood at the door. Mikey 
 strained his ears to hear the lady speak, but what- 
 ever greeting she uttered was said in so low a voice 
 as not to be articulate from where he sat. Then the 
 man who had produced the paper spoke. 
 
 "We shall not disturb you, Senora," he said, "for 
 you are fatigued. We merely wish to pay you our 
 homage and assure you of our fidelity." 
 
 Again that low murmur, and then, one by one, all 
 bowed and left save Rowe and the cab driver, who 
 entered the little room, closing the door after them. 
 
 "Aw, some funny things happens," said Mikey,
 
 152 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 not however, with any special reference to humor. 
 He stretched himself and yawned. "They'll be go- 
 ing in a minute," he added presently. "Glory be, 
 they are the last." 
 
 Suddenly he stopped, remembering a couple who 
 were seated in the semi-obscurity by the stove. 
 Earlier in the evening these two and their bear had 
 entertained the then crowded saloon, and though the 
 throng had grown steadily less, and the coins fewer, 
 they had lingered, loath to be turned out into the 
 storm. Also they had bought, so Mikey let them re- 
 main, and now the woman, an ancient soul, pic- 
 turesque and haggard, had fallen asleep where she 
 sat, overcome perhaps by her last glass of rum. As 
 she lay back, her head resting on the hard rim of the 
 chair, her mouth partly open, she looked like a ver- 
 itable incarnation of the tragic and terrible essence 
 of life. Yet there was something pitiable, even lik- 
 able in that curious old face with its lace-like net- 
 work of wrinkles ; and her deep breathing was regu- 
 lar and peaceful as a child's. On closer examination, 
 Mikey decided that her sleep was that of exhaustion, 
 not a drunken stupor as he had at first supposed. 
 
 Her companion was a man of perhaps thirty-five, 
 unshaven, shabby in a suit of clothing that had
 
 OF REVOLUTIONARY SAVOR 153 
 
 originally been of faultless cut and style. Under 
 his soft hat, his eyes, keen as gimlets, tolerant, inter- 
 ested, impersonal, watched, now the old woman, now 
 the door of the little inner room. He had a debonair 
 carriage, as though he had touched life's realities 
 without fear, and handled its sorrows as a strong 
 man does. 
 
 It was Sam Hill, but Hill so stripped of smugness, 
 so shorn of vanity, and so sensitive to the true con- 
 text of his environment, that his friends would have 
 been hard put to recognize him. At his feet lay 
 Mr. Jones, the bear, asleep, and between his teeth he 
 clutched a short blackened pipe of clay. On the ta- 
 ble at his hand a liqueur-glass of brandy stood un- 
 touched. To himself he was saying, apropos of 
 Rowe: "Now who the deuce is that man? Where 
 have I seen his rascally face before?" Then Mikey 
 advanced. 
 
 "You'll have to get out of this, you two/' he said 
 sharply; "come on now, rouse up and be off with 
 you!" 
 
 Without otherwise moving, Hill took up his glass 
 and drained it. 
 
 "You've a snug berth here," said he. "Why not 
 let us sleep the night by your stove? It's snowing
 
 154 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 now, and we are honest folk. You'll find nothing 
 missing in the morning." 
 
 "That's a good one," laughed Mikey. "Let you 
 sleep here, indeed ! I guess not! Come on now, old 
 lady, wake up and shuffle." 
 
 He was about to lay his hand upon her shoulder 
 when Sam gripped his forearm and gently pushed 
 him aside. Astonished at his guest's strength, the 
 husky Irishman stepped back, and watched while 
 Hill gently awoke the old woman. 
 
 "Awake, Nita," said Hill. "Come, little blossom 
 of the bramble-vine, our host is giving us God- 
 speed." 
 
 Quickly she was awake, regaining consciousness 
 with that speed which is a faculty of those who are 
 old. With a grotesque gesture she straightened the 
 handkerchief upon her head, and gathering her 
 shawl about her with one hand, she stretched the 
 other across the table to her glass. 
 
 "Oh, my immortal soul !" she muttered, "just an- 
 other little drop to keep out the cold, my handsome 
 boy." 
 
 "Nix," said the barkeeper, "out you go. This 
 place is going to bed." 
 
 "May you burn in eternal fires, even as I shall,"
 
 OF REVOLUTIONARY SAVOR 155 
 
 she quavered angrily, struggling to her feet. "And 
 God have mercy on you if you do, for I am a great 
 sinner." 
 
 This, being uttered in Spanish, was lost upon 
 Mikey, who understood, however, from the tone in 
 which the pleasing sentiment was uttered, that it 
 was far from complimentary. Pulling the table to 
 one side, he gave the still somnolent Mr. Jones a 
 kick that awoke him to no gentle mood, and pock- 
 eting the money that Hill laid in his hand, he again 
 bade them begone. With much grumbling Old Nita 
 started for the door, which was at the opposite end 
 of the apartment, and beyond that leading into the 
 small room into which Rowe had led his friends. 
 Still puzzling about the appearance of the former, 
 Hill buttoned his coat about him, and gathered up 
 the bear-pole and chain, preparatory to following 
 her. Who the deuce was that man ah! no, it 
 could not be yes, by Jove, it was, though! One 
 of his tenants with whom he had scarcely spoken. 
 A fellow who lived below the studio. He put a sup- 
 porting hand beneath Old Nita's elbow. One by one 
 the lights were being extinguished by Mikey, till 
 only a single lantern burned near the exit. 
 
 "Hurry up, now!" admonished the proprietor.
 
 156 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 "Going, Ireland; good night," responded Hill 
 smoothly. 
 
 Just then the door to the little inner room was 
 opened and three figures, one of them the woman's, 
 hooded and veiled, appeared directly in their path. 
 
 "How much, Mike?" said Rowe, stepping for- 
 ward. Then he caught sight of the old woman, and 
 stood for an instant as though transfixed with 
 alarm. At the same moment she saw his face, and 
 her own became livid. Rage, fear, and hate were 
 lurking there, and shaking herself free of Hill, she 
 sprang for Rowe, her old hands curled like the 
 claws of some vicious bird of prey. 
 
 "Devil!" she screamed, "have I found thee at 
 last?" 
 
 With an oath Rowe fended her off, his forearm 
 striking her a stunning blow, and then, quick as a 
 cat, he overturned the last remaining lamp, and, 
 seizing the veiled lady, pushed to the outer door, 
 Sancho, who also seemed to recognize the old wom- 
 an, preceding and opening it hastily. Old Nita, 
 stunned by the blow, fell to the floor, while Hill 
 sprang at Rowe but too late. For a fleeting instant 
 the Spaniard's face could be seen, sardonic, un- 
 earthly, in the white light from the street, before
 
 OF REVOLUTIONARY SAVOR 157 
 
 he slammed the heavy door to, catching Hill on the 
 jaw with the edge of it. Then he was gone with his 
 companions, while over the dark turmoil and confu- 
 sion in the bar lingered the echo of a laugh, mirth- 
 less beyond description.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 THE LADY OF MYSTERY 
 
 WRAPPED in a brilliant yellow bath-robe, 
 Pedro was finishing breakfast. Having 
 perched himself upon a high stool, he broke the 
 rind of an orange with the tip of a palette knife, 
 while staring contemplatively at a half-finished can- 
 vas one of the many with which the room was 
 littered. Then he ate pensively, and when he had 
 finished, lighted a cigarette and opened the morning 
 paper. From the front page sprang a piece of news 
 that fairly made him jump. The head-line bore 
 his own name. 
 
 NOTED SPANISH PAINTER HERE 
 
 SIG. PEDRO HAS TAKEN S. J. HILL'S STUDIO FOR 
 
 THE WINTER. To PAINT CITY AS IT Is. 
 
 This was the caption, after which followed an in- 
 terview with himself, based upon what he had said 
 to Pell, the young reporter, the night before, but 
 considerably embellished by that gentleman's own 
 imagination. For several moments the reader was 
 
 158
 
 THE LADY OF MYSTERY 159 
 
 quite overcome with amusement. He, Pedro, the im- 
 pertinent, the unknown, the mere student, thus ad- 
 vertised, thus hauled to fame ! In writing the arti- 
 cle, Pell had assumed the same sort of knowledge on 
 the part of his readers that he had himself assumed. 
 Thus, upon nothing, he had built the foundations of 
 a reputation. 
 
 The lad laughed, and spreading the paper open 
 before him on the table, lighted another cigarette 
 and admired his name in print. He was in excellent 
 company, the column to his left being occupied by 
 a famous millionaire and the young lady to whom 
 the latter was pledged, and the column to his right 
 being filled with the wool-bill, surrounded by clam- 
 oring senators and department heads. Below him, 
 at the foot of the column, appeared a very short no- 
 tice in small type to the effect that nine coal-miners 
 had been killed in an explosion in Nebraska 
 a mere detail of news, distant, and of no im- 
 portance in comparison with the really significant 
 events that appeared in capitals at the page's top. 
 With a quick breath, Pedro turned the sheet hastily. 
 Beau-Jean had once been a miner, and his tales of 
 the inferno in which he had labored came too viv- 
 idly to mind.
 
 i6o THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 He glanced carelessly at that portion of the news- 
 paper wherein there appear the society notes, ac- 
 counts of expensive entertainments, theatrical criti- 
 cisms, and death notices, side by side. He saw that 
 a great writer had died intestate, and that a new 
 opera singer liked America; that a hyphenated soci- 
 ety lady had fed her kind so fully that she had 
 been forced to make them dance afterward, in order 
 that they might digest what her cook had spent 
 hours in making indigestible. He informed him- 
 self, also, as to the movements of several peoples on 
 several streets, neither of which he (nor any one 
 else) had ever heard of before; and learned that a 
 pet dog had won a prize. Moreover, it appeared 
 that some folk had been married eight in fact, 
 and one had actually been born ! 
 
 Strange erratic world ! 
 
 Then an item of personal interest caught his crit- 
 ical eye. Samuel J. Hill, the eminent portrait- 
 painter, whose engagement to Miss Iris Vanderpool, 
 the Asphalt King's daughter, had been persistently 
 rumored, had gone south for the winter; and it 
 would appear that the engagement, if any such ex- 
 isted, had been broken, for reasons unknown. The 
 lady was to remain in town for the season. The
 
 THE LADY OF MYSTERY 161 
 
 paper thought that this news would be of wide in- 
 terest, both to society and artistic circles, as an an- 
 nouncement had been fully expected. 
 
 Again appeared Signer Pedro (C. E. Pedro, 
 this time, for reason unguessable), who had taken 
 his confrere's studio for an indefinite term. 
 
 Pedro put the paper down and gave his yellow 
 robe an extra fold about him before sinking into a 
 reverie. 
 
 Ah ! this explained much Hill's sudden anxiety 
 to leave town, his unhappiness, his reckless generos- 
 ity to the first needy stranger whom he met. These 
 two had some silly quarrel, perhaps. It could not 
 have really been so serious as they apparently made 
 it. Why, never were two people more ideally suited 
 to each other, or he, Pedro, was no judge! The 
 dismissal was given by her, of course, and Hill was 
 saddened to the point of desperation. And in the 
 meanwhile what had he, himself, done! Heavens! 
 Last night, what had he said to her? What would 
 she think? How would his sentimentalism appear? 
 It had none too pleasant an aspect in the light of 
 his present discovery. The beloved of his friend 
 the friend who had done everything for him 
 who had benefited him beyond any! What a trai-
 
 1 62 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 tor he would appear! Of course, his love-making 
 was the merest joke nothing but a pretty game, 
 played in an idle moment ; and when he started it 
 he had not known it was she who lay at the root 
 and source of his adventure! His love-making! 
 He almost laughed aloud at the thought of it. Why, 
 it was only in fun. And undoubtedly the Madonna 
 Lady had understood it so. For surely she was a 
 practised coquette. He had deduced this from her 
 slightest gesture, her lightest movement, which he 
 foresaw and could have predicted to the instant of 
 its happening. Oh, come now! It was impossible 
 that she was serious ! It was quite useless for her to 
 be so, at any rate. Pedro was no lover for her. 
 
 At the thought he laughed merrily. 
 
 But Hill could not know that. Suppose the paint- 
 er were to hear of his, Pedro's, attentions to Miss 
 VanderpooH And hear he might, for he had not 
 gone south as yet. Old Nita had written Pedro a 
 letter in badly spelled Spanish, explaining that 
 though none of them would come near him while he 
 was making his career, for fear of injuring his 
 prestige, they would not be far away and would be 
 watching over him so as to be on hand in time of 
 need. How they would know if he were in trouble
 
 THE LADY OF MYSTERY 163 
 
 she did not say, but Pedro entirely believed in her 
 power to succor him if necessary. Hill was with 
 her, and by the freemasonry of the underworld, or 
 even by the newspapers, Hill might learn of his 
 prot^ge^s actions. 
 
 Well, now that the little society item had revealed 
 the true state of affairs, there would be no more flirt- 
 ing, that was assured. But a friendship was surely 
 another matter. He liked her so much ! Next to 
 Leigh, she appealed to him more than any of his 
 new acquaintances. He really must get to know 
 her better. Then there was that exquisite line of 
 her throat; he simply must paint it a real Ma- 
 donna, with blue draperies about her head a leaf 
 out of the book of the old masters, yet quick with 
 life. A Madonna of flesh and blood, far from 
 ascetic! Ah! yes, they would be friends, and he 
 would ask her to pose. But no more of that silly 
 game of love. Caramba! It was nothing but a joke, 
 the veriest farce in the world. She, too, must be 
 laughing at it by now; that was a comfort. And 
 poor Hill! How wretched he had been was still, 
 in all probability. For the conviction that Sam 
 loved the beautiful lady truly was not to be dis- 
 lodged. Well, the waif, the stray one, would prove
 
 1 64 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 a valiant friend to both of them. The saints be 
 praised ! he might serve them. 
 
 Just as he reached this amiable conclusion the 
 studio door was flung open to admit the vivacious 
 figure of a young woman, all gold and pink and 
 white, from her fluffy head to the hem of her frilled 
 apron of lawn. A Dresden vision, not quite pretty, 
 but very charming, young and debonair. She wore 
 no hat, and in her hand she carried a couple of 
 checked towels, such as are used for the drying of 
 dishes. 
 
 This young person was Miss Cassie Goodell, from 
 the floor below the young lady of the violets. 
 
 "Mornin', Pedro," she greeted him. "I've come 
 to do your rooms." 
 
 "Impertinent!" he gasped, closing the door be- 
 hind her. "How many times have I told you to 
 knock before entering, eh?" 
 
 "As often as I come up!" she admitted, making 
 a raid upon the cigarettes. 
 
 "Some day you may be sorry!" he warned her. 
 "Suppose I were not clothed ?" 
 
 "Lord bless you, Pedro dear," she replied amus- 
 edly, "I shouldn't die of the shock, having posed 
 in a pleasant smile myself for over five years."
 
 THE LADY OF MYSTERY 165 
 
 "Well, you knock next time!" he said excitedly. 
 "/ care, if you don't" 
 
 She paused in her occupation of gathering up the 
 table silver. 
 
 "I used to," she said in a queer voice, "but I 
 don't any more. And I don't even mind not being 
 able to care, worse luck !" 
 
 But Pedro did not hear her, even though the sud- 
 den silence in which she stood should have attracted 
 his attention. He was examining the unfinished 
 canvas on the easel, wholly absorbed by it. The 
 girl threw back her head, as though shaking off 
 something, and began her work anew, whistling 
 softly the while. 
 
 Her task was plainly a familiar one and her exe- 
 cution of it surprisingly deft. There was a tiny 
 kitchenette between the bathroom and studio, and 
 this was scrupulously clean, owing to her care. 
 Each article had its ordained spot, and she put it 
 there with swift hands, almost unconsciously accom- 
 plishing the labor while her mind was on other 
 matters. 
 
 One day, now almost two months since, she had 
 come up-stairs to make the acquaintance of the new 
 artist in Hill's quarters the acquaintance of the
 
 166 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 charming young man to whom she had thrown her 
 violets on the day of his arrival. She had found 
 him immersed in work, while a few late flies, 
 brought to life by the odor of food, buzzed about a 
 neglected table. Her host had not noticed her en- 
 trance. Surprised, she had stood watching him, his 
 serious young face wrapt in an ecstasy of striving, 
 and then, perceiving that to speak would be a sac- 
 rilege, and to leave the table as it was, a crying 
 shame upon her femininity, she had silently set 
 about cleaning it, still unnoticed by Pedro. Later, 
 on the occasion of that first visit, they had talked, 
 and he had engaged her to pose, but although 
 nothing was said about her voluntary labors, from 
 that time on, she, instinctively knowing that he 
 needed her care, had come each morning and put 
 his place to rights, though as a rule he forgot she 
 was there. 
 
 She finished with the dishes and set herself to 
 making the bed, after, as usual, vainly searching 
 for toilet articles to put away. As ever, she mar- 
 veled anew at the nicety with which his personal be- 
 longings were kept in contrast to his shabby house- 
 keeping. Everything was already in order in the 
 bedroom; the bureau was immaculate, and for the
 
 THE LADY OF MYSTERY 167 
 
 greater part filled with Hill's garments, none of 
 which Pedro had ever used. She soon finished what 
 there was to do and returned to the studio, just paus- 
 ing to prink a bit before the mirror. As she entered, 
 Pedro beckoned to her. 
 
 "Hold out your arm a minute, Cassie," he bade 
 her, speaking without coming out of his absorption. 
 "No ! So : the shoulder a little higher. That's it !" 
 
 Then he worked violently for a few moments. 
 
 "Pedro," she remarked presently, "do you like 
 my arm very much?" 
 
 No answer. 
 
 "Gil Foster says it's the best looking forearm in 
 the city," she volunteered. 
 
 No answer. He was too much absorbed to listen. 
 Indeed, he might have been deaf. The picture was 
 coming out right, and nothing else mattered. A 
 lock of hair fell across his eyes, and in brushing it 
 back he left a brown smudge upon his nose. 
 
 "You're a funny one," she commented. "Nary a 
 compliment do you hand out; yet you ain't a bad 
 sport by any means. Think maybe I'll learn a psalm 
 to sing while I sit for you ; that might make a hit. 
 More in your line, I guess." 
 
 Then she, too, fell silent for a little while, look-
 
 1 68 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 ing about her at the familiar objects almost with an 
 air of proprietorship. Had she not dusted them un- 
 til her care would seem to give her some claim upon 
 them, if not upon the tenant in their midst? Cassie 
 was in a talkative mood this morning. 
 
 "Gil is awful fresh," she began naively. "We 
 went to Beer Peter's last night to eat. Say, he 
 bought the best! I've been posing for him three 
 times lately and now I guess I'll have to cut it out. 
 He's married, and I won't stand no nonsense." 
 
 Still unmoved, Pedro worked on, his silence mak- 
 ing the girl's words fall the louder in the great bar- 
 ren room ; and to her own ears they sounded strange- 
 ly coarse. What had she said that for? Didn't it 
 sound fierce, though? 
 
 "Say, I often think of that first day, when I threw 
 the violets," she said rather softly ; "do you remem- 
 ber?" 
 
 Pedro heard this, because he had just finished 
 what he was working at. 
 
 "Rest," he said, then : "That's all. I'm not going 
 to work this morning. I've got an engagement for 
 the noon meal. What were you saying?" 
 
 "I I was talking about the day you looked up at
 
 THE LADY OF MYSTERY 169 
 
 my window and said and said 'I love you.' ' 
 Her eyes twinkled as she spoke. 
 
 Pedro responded instantly. 
 
 "Ha! ha!" he laughed; "yes, I remember. Do 
 you know, I was talking to the house; I didn't see 
 you till you laughed ! Ha ! ha !" 
 
 "Then you didn't mean it for me?" she teased, 
 pouting a little. 
 
 "Of course not!" he responded cheerfully. 
 "Here, stand still again for a minute, while I sketch 
 in that corner of your shoulder. This composition 
 just needs it to balance. . . . There! That's 
 all!" 
 
 She turned to go, gathering up her gaily checked 
 dish-cloths. At the door she paused. 
 
 "Is she a good-looker, the lady you're going to 
 lunch with?" she asked mischievously. 
 
 He wheeled toward her in surprise. 
 
 "Ah ! I did not say I was going to lunch with a 
 lady!" he exclaimed. 
 
 "So she is pretty," said Cassie, with a pseudo-mel- 
 ancholy sigh. "Ah, me !" 
 
 Then she was gone, closing the door softly be- 
 hind her.
 
 1 70 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 "Hum!" said Pedro, staring at the floor. "I in- 
 vited that ! I must be becoming as awkward as a 
 
 Here he stopped abruptly; put a hand upon his 
 lips, warning himself to silence ; took away the hand ; 
 found it streaked with brown paint, and straightway 
 fell to washing his besmirched countenance with 
 soap powder of a peculiarly cleansing sort. 
 
 An hour later he was sitting down to "the noon 
 meal" with Iris. 
 
 "For," she said, "father is never punctual ; if we 
 waited for him we might wait until night." 
 
 In the cold light of day, and in the more formal 
 setting of her own house, Iris was rinding it some- 
 what difficult to continue the romantic impetuous 
 atmosphere which had come so naturally in the 
 semi-darkness of the Milligans' balcony. Then, 
 too, Pedro was somewhat less responsive. He was 
 very courteous, but a little reserved. Furthermore, 
 it was proving almost impossible to question him 
 about himself as she had wished. The morning pa- 
 per had given her the same news that had so much 
 amused the boy, and, remembering her first en- 
 counter with him, she was greatly at a loss as to 
 who and what he might be. Was he an impostor,
 
 THE LADY OF MYSTERY 171 
 
 an adventurer, or an eccentric? He might easily be 
 either, but whatever he was, he fascinated her be- 
 yond any of her acquaintances. Indeed, she had be- 
 gun to consider him even more tenderly. Then 
 there was that miniature in her father's desk! 
 Where had it come from? Was it of Pedro? So 
 many mysteries were enough even to overcome that 
 edict of etiquette which bade one conquer curiosity. 
 She really must know about him, even at cost of 
 seeming curious. 
 
 "Were you born in Spain?" she asked. 
 
 "No," said he. "Have you seen De Bush's ex- 
 hibition at Knoedler's gallery yet?" 
 
 "Not yet," she replied; "I suppose you know all 
 the galleries well. Or haven't you been here be- 
 fore?" 
 
 "This is my first visit to New York," he replied, 
 and then, as she was about to speak again, he held 
 up his hand, frankly stopping her and looking 
 straight into her eyes. 
 
 "Madonna, I beg that we talk of something else 
 than myself," he continued. "These pictures of De 
 Bush's par example. You must go to them. He 
 is wonderful as an interpreter either of character or 
 personality."
 
 i;2 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 "Very well," said she, not looking at him, for she 
 was piqued at the purely friendly unsentimental 
 glance with which he had returned her somewhat 
 languishing one, "we shall talk of what you suggest. 
 Which do you consider the more important ? Which 
 is the more vital character or personality ?" 
 
 "Can you have one without the other, Madonna?" 
 
 "Undoubtedly. The veriest bore, who gives one 
 no clue to his individual soul, may have a splendid 
 character or the reverse; embodying all the virtues, 
 or all the vices, without your being aware of it." 
 
 "Would not the vices stick out a little so that 
 you'd know they were there?" suggested Pedro. 
 "The virtues, I grant you ; they would be overlooked 
 and probably leave no mark upon the face." 
 
 She laughed at this. 
 
 "Yes," she admitted, "that is true, but personality 
 makes itself felt, whether or no." 
 
 "And does not have dependence upon any vir- 
 tue," said he, "nor need its possessor speak, tv 
 savis!" 
 
 "Exactly," she asserted. "Which do you consider 
 more important?" 
 
 "In our servants, the character," said he; "in our 
 friends, the personality. Me, I sicken of a bore."
 
 THE LADY OF MYSTERY 173 
 
 "Then you relegate all the virtues to the lower 
 classes?" she inquired. 
 
 "There are no lower classes, Senorita," he re- 
 plied, "and, perhaps, too, we would differ on our 
 er what you call our definition of virtue. For 
 example, I consider it a sin to be a bore." 
 
 "What a difficult creed!" she cried. "At that 
 rate think of the thousands who would suffer dam- 
 nation !" 
 
 "And why not?" he demanded. "A thief who 
 steals your purse, steals trash, as the English 
 Shakespeare has written. Very true, but he who 
 holds an active brain in thraldom, while droning 
 forth matter of little sense and of no moment, steals 
 your immortal soul, than which there surely can be 
 no greater crime." 
 
 "I agree with you!" she cried. "Oh! I do, in- 
 deed." 
 
 Suddenly she smiled a little. 
 
 "Is it sufficiently abstract?" she asked, her eyes 
 full of meaning. 
 
 With a quick motion, he handed her an olive. 
 
 "Try one of these," he suggested. 
 
 How he avoided the personal! It seemed as 
 though he feared it above everything, and detecting
 
 174 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 the approach of an intimate note, changed the theme 
 at once. 
 
 "I have a curious sketch of Leigh's with me," he 
 said, changing the subject determinedly; "would 
 you care to see it?" 
 
 "Oh! yes, I like that man Leigh, although he 
 never pays the slightest attention to me nor in- 
 deed to any woman, for that matter. He looks as 
 if he could be intensely interesting if he would only 
 talk. But though I have known him, en passant, for 
 years, I never seem to get at him at all." 
 
 "You are certainly right in supposing him to be 
 interesting!" exclaimed Pedro, his eyes lighting up 
 at this appreciation of his friend. "He is a man 
 among men! A great mind; a sincere artist. I 
 have not words enough to praise him. I I well, 
 here, I run away from the subject. Ha! ha! you 
 see it is not safe to start me about Leigh. But to 
 the point. One night not long ago we were talking 
 about form in music, and he told me that he had 
 caught Nature herself demonstrating their intimate 
 kinship. Listen he saw the Pocantico hills against 
 the sunset, and suddenly it occurred to him that if 
 five parallel lines were drawn behind them in a 
 given space (as the foundations of a music score
 
 THE LADY OF MYSTERY 175 
 
 are drawn) the outlines of the hills against them 
 would form a melody where the extreme height and 
 depths of outline occurred. He made a drawing of 
 the hills, cut it out, laid it upon the five black lines, 
 and behold! a melody resulted, which he showed 
 me upon the piano. He afterward gave me the 
 drawing; it is in this pocket, I think." 
 
 He fumbled in the depths of the old green coat, 
 while Iris waited with baited breath. Never could 
 strategy have worked in more successful allurement 
 of a maiden than did Pedro's honest withdrawal 
 from all flirtatious intent. The more frequently 
 his little hostess looked upon him, and the more he 
 withdrew from love, the more certain she grew that 
 she was to love him perhaps, already loved him. 
 
 How good he was to look at; a trifle slight, pos- 
 sibly; but what wonderful hair he had, that curled 
 a little. "Like the young tendril of the grape." 
 Where had she read that? And what a fine clean- 
 cut mouth, with its firmly modeled corners ! Such a 
 face meant character power! As to personality, 
 there was no need to ask about his possession of that ! 
 Ah ! he had found the paper! 
 
 Together they were leaning over it as he spread 
 it upon the table-cloth, when a sharp exclamation
 
 1 76 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 from across the room caused them to look up hastily. 
 In the doorway stood Reginald Vanderpool, his 
 aristocratic clean-shaven face for the instant 
 blanched, his eyes fixed upon Pedro as though in 
 fascinated unbelief. Iris covered the odd situation 
 quickly. 
 
 "Signer Pedro," she said, "this is my father." 
 On the moment the man's face became impassive, 
 and with courteous grace he advanced to greet the 
 guest at his table. The two shook hands and the 
 host seated himself, giving a low-voiced order to 
 the servant, who brought rice and milk and a little 
 fruit. Either the millionaire's tastes were simple, 
 or his slim figure was maintained at a considerable 
 cost. 
 
 "Are you the painter of whom the morning paper 
 speaks?" he inquired of Pedro. "Pardon my not 
 knowing." 
 
 "I suppose I am," replied Pedro composedly. 
 i 
 
 "Ah ! I shall be interested in seeing your work," 
 
 said Vanderpool. But his tone was perfunctory, ex- 
 cept for a note of what might have been disappoint- 
 ment. After this he spoke very little, but whenever 
 the conversation between his daughter and Pedro 
 became most animated he would steal a covert look
 
 THE LADY OF MYSTERY 177 
 
 at the youth a look full of interest and something 
 else, too, which would have been difficult for an ob- 
 server to define. 
 
 Before the meal was ended, a servant, entering 
 with a note, caused a diversion, and as he put the 
 envelope into his pocket, Vanderpool arose, although 
 he had scarcely eaten anything. 
 
 "Sorry, but I must run along," he said. Then, 
 with a slight bow to Pedro, he turned to leave. At 
 the action Iris sprang up, and going to her father, 
 she put a detaining hand upon his sleeve. 
 
 "Don't go, dearest," she said; "why, you will 
 starve yourself to death !" 
 
 The man's face softened wonderfully as he looked 
 down into her anxious eyes. 
 
 "There, there, I'm not hungry," he said, with a 
 little crooked smile. "Really, I must hurry off." 
 
 With which he went out as abruptly as he had 
 come. 
 
 Iris suggested the gray room, and they climbed 
 the stair to it and sat themselves upon the sofa 
 where Hill and she had quarreled. But no ghost 
 of a former love haunted her now. Instead, her in- 
 fatuation for Pedro burned higher every moment, 
 and with bright eager eyes she watched him as he
 
 1 78 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 examined and admired the treasures of the curious 
 apartment. The atmosphere was becoming tense 
 again as she spread her languorous net for him, 
 quite delicately, almost insensibly, and quite vain- 
 ly. The more she felt this, the harder she strived, 
 searching about in her mind for some method by 
 which to chain him to her. Suppose, her charm 
 failing, she had too little to offer him in common 
 friendship, and her intellect was not sufficient to at- 
 tract him to a second visit? What could she do to 
 secure his interest, to cement the more intimate rela- 
 tions which had been theirs upon that magical even- 
 ing just passed? She might invite him to her house, 
 and he might come or he might not. This usual 
 course left him too free an agent. She must find 
 some method of attaching him and of assuring their 
 meeting frequently, so that she might have opportu- 
 nity gradually to bind him by more tender ties. 
 Then, too, that miniature in the desk seemed to 
 haunt her that and her father's start when he en- 
 tered the dining-room. But among her numerous 
 questionings, one thing she could and would dis- 
 cover : what did Pedro know about Hill ? 
 
 "Have you known Mr. Hill long?" she asked. 
 "I see that it is his studio that you have taken."
 
 THE LADY OF MYSTERY 179 
 
 "No," said he; "I have seen him only once. But 
 I feel a great friendship for him," he added in a 
 significant tone. 
 
 She changed the subject hastily. How could this 
 stranger have learned of her former attachment? 
 And yet his tone implied that he had. The little 
 society item that Pedro had read, for some reason 
 had escaped her own notice. If he had heard gos- 
 sip, she thought, she could deny it. For it was evi- 
 dent that the circumstance, if he had knowledge of 
 it, would make a difference in his attitude toward 
 her. All at once the idea for which she was search- 
 ing flashed into her mind. 
 
 "I hope you will not think what I am about to 
 say, too strange," she began, "or consider me very 
 presumptuous in assuming that you are already suffi- 
 ciently my friend to permit my making such a re- 
 quest of you ; but remember that I owe you a rescue 
 and that we have come together instantly on the 
 same plane without any of the usual preamble. Per- 
 haps indebtedness already incurred is scarcely a 
 ground for claiming further help ; but you will un- 
 derstand ah! you must, for I am in great distress 
 and trouble, and there is no one to whom I can go 
 with my difficulty."
 
 i So THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 Pedro, who had been examining a vase, turned to 
 her with surprise. Ever ready with sympathy, he put 
 out his hand with a single expressive gesture. 
 
 "Madonna!" he exclaimed, "you know I would 
 willingly serve you. If it is in my power to help, 
 surely you must know that I would not hesitate." 
 
 "Very well, then," she said gravely. "It is this : 
 My father is a strong man, a brave man, I am sure, 
 and one who is not easily daunted or disturbed. 
 You noticed how he acted to-day? Why, he was 
 scarcely civil to you. Such rudeness, believe me, is 
 far from his customary habit, and there is only one 
 explanation for it. He must be deeply troubled 
 about something, and for it to disturb him so, that 
 thing is a very serious matter; otherwise he would 
 throw it off, or, at worst, conceal it." 
 
 "Have you no idea of what this trouble is?" He 
 asked. 
 
 "I have tried to get him to tell me," she replied, 
 "but it has been a useless effort. My father and I 
 are close friends, but he persists in saying there is 
 nothing wrong, which simply means that something 
 is very wrong indeed ; so much so that he is unwill- 
 ing to tell me."
 
 THE LADY OF MYSTERY 181 
 
 "I am sorry," said Pedro, "but how can I help?" 
 "The case is just this !" she cried, rising in her ex- 
 citement: "I have good reason to believe that he 
 is being either defrauded by a pack of scoundrels 
 who have managed to deceive him into some ques- 
 tionable undertaking, or that he is being black- 
 mailed. There is one period of my father's life of 
 which I know nothing, and I am sure that the pres- 
 ent trouble dates back to that time. Further than 
 this I can guess very little. My father would go to 
 any length to keep scandal from his name on my 
 account, no less than his own, or to keep harm from 
 reaching me. He is capable of the most quixotic 
 actions. In some matters he is curiously sensitive 
 and susceptible to distress, and that is what makes 
 me so sure that this present trouble is purely an 
 ethical one from which we could rescue him. Could 
 you oh ! do you think that you could in any way 
 find out if he is being deceived, imposed upon, and 
 help him, or at least set my disturbed mind at rest?" 
 "It is a curious request," said Pedro slowly. "I 
 to help your father! Why, he is a great man a 
 wonderfully successful person. Surely you can not 
 really believe I could serve him P*
 
 182 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 "You do not yet understand," she urged. "He is 
 strong and capable, but he is almost ridiculously 
 sensitive on lines which touch his honor, and is quite 
 susceptible to being worked and tormented by un- 
 scrupulous people. And I have some real proof 
 that this is happening, although I can not actually 
 show it to you at this moment. Do you remem- 
 ber my saying that I carried papers of value the day 
 you rescued me with your bear ? Well, the sight of 
 them excited my father greatly, and ever since, he 
 has been receiving letters which have nothing to do 
 with his regular business or his social correspond- 
 ence. I know it for a fact, because I stumbled upon 
 them accidentally, in a secret drawer of his desk. 
 They are in a foreign language Spanish, I think 
 and he keeps them all with great secrecy. Oh ! I 
 am sure he is being harried by some mysterious peo- 
 ple. Why, that note he received at luncheon was 
 directed in that same fine foreign handwriting in 
 which the others are written. Now won't you help 
 me? Don't you see that it is an exquisitely delicate 
 matter with which I can not go to every one?" 
 
 "Have you no relations whom this would con- 
 cern?" he asked.
 
 THE LADY OF MYSTERY 183 
 
 "No," said she, "we have only some distant 
 cousins whom we seldom see and who would not do 
 at all." 
 
 "Then," said Pedro, "I will help you. It is a 
 position of questionable honor, almost, which you 
 require for this spying and I can not go about it de- 
 liberately. Yet, if you sometime can give me a 
 definite task in the matter, I will make sure to per- 
 form it; or should chance throw me any informa- 
 tion, I shall not fail to use it and follow it up, and 
 I shall be on the watchout for any such. Still, it is 
 not likely that such a thing will cross my path." 
 
 "Thank you !" she exclaimed in real gratitude. 
 "It is a relief to know that I may call upon you if 
 necessary. Then the matter can rest between us 
 two. There is nothing at present that I can ask 
 you to do, but if a clue should arise I shall let you 
 know." 
 
 "And I will respond immediately," Said he, aris- 
 ing to take his departure. "I have Triends ay, 
 good friends who are more likely to hear rumors 
 of plotting than I. They probably know most of 
 the sub rosa doings of the town by now, or else they 
 have failed in their habit of other cities! But even
 
 1 84 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 so, I am afraid that there's not a very great chance 
 of their stumbling upon the particular information 
 we need. And now, Madonna, I must leave. Will 
 you pose for me? I want to paint the beautiful line 
 which runs from your chin downward, like the edge 
 of the young moon." 
 
 "Pose!" she gasped, astonished at this new turn 
 of affairs. Then delight at the prospect flooded her 
 heart and suffused her cheeks with a delicate color. 
 "Pose for you! Indeed, yes. When?" 
 
 "To-morrow." 
 
 "At what time?" 
 
 "At nine, if that is not too early." 
 
 "I shall be there," she breathed. 
 
 When he had gone she descended cautiously to 
 the library, and rinding it vacant, made the door 
 fast. Then, springing the secret catch in the desk, 
 she took out the miniature which lay within the hid- 
 ing-place, yor a long time she gazed at it earnestly. 
 Then a curious discovery startled her. The portrait 
 was Pedro, teature for feature, expression and all; 
 but one item which had somehow escaped her now 
 added greatly to her already deep perplexity. The 
 hair of the picture, instead of being dark, like 
 Pedro's, was of a ripe corn gold !
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 CONCERNING BOHEMIA 
 
 ON the following morning, at nine o'clock 
 promptly, Iris reached the top landing of 
 the Muldoon Place house and paused, flushed and 
 rather breathless, before the studio door. On it, be- 
 low the heavy brass knocker and the plate engraved 
 with Hill's name, was a modest ticket bearing sim- 
 ply the word "Pedro." Tucked under a corner of 
 this last was a folded bit of paper addressed to 
 "Madonna Iris." At sight of it her heart almost 
 stopped beating. Could he have gone away? Did 
 he not wish to see her? With trembling fingers 
 she unfastened it, opening it to her anxious gaze. 
 
 At the top of the page was a sketch of Pedro him- 
 self, empty handed, and running frantically to the 
 open door of a shop which bore the sign : Artists' 
 Supplies. Then came the words: "The door is 
 unlocked. Wait, I beseech you. I haste; I fly!" 
 Below this was a second sketch of himself running 
 madly, package in hand, toward a door marked 
 
 Studio. 
 
 185
 
 1 86 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 From sheer relief she laughed aloud, and at the 
 sound a door upon the landing below creaked as 
 though some one had opened it to listen. However, 
 Miss Vanderpool did not notice this, but, turning the 
 handle, let herself into the studio, where she had 
 often been before, to be sure, but never until now un- 
 chaperoned. 
 
 Closisg the door behind her, she stood motionless, 
 leaning against it, Pedro's funny little note crushed 
 tightly in one hand, while she let a flood of mixed 
 emotions sweep over her. Pedro, the adorable! 
 This was his habitation, his workshop! Already 
 his vivid personality had permeated it, blotting out 
 that of his predecessor as effectively here among 
 these inanimate objects, as he was unintentional!^ 
 supplanting Hill in the heart of his lady. The 
 very furnishings looked different under the slight 
 change Pedro had put upon them a chair replaced, 
 the sofa shifted to a different angle, thus leaving 
 clear a greater floor space. The somewhat careless 
 arrangement, instinctively changed for comfort 
 rather than deliberately thought out, all bespoke 
 the present inhabitant. Nothing, indeed, that Pedro 
 touched could fail to retain his mark, and here he 
 had lived, was living!
 
 CONCERNING BOHEMIA 187 
 
 As for Sam Hill! Why could she not think of 
 him? Why not feel him here in this place, which 
 was built to his order, ordered by his careful 
 thought? She tried to, but vainly. His spirit seemed 
 gone out of it. Ungrateful was she? Fickle? Ah, 
 well, she could not help it This new thing was 
 mounting to her head like wine. The charm of this 
 newcomer, the beauty of him, the manner Hill 
 slipped out of her mind, out of association with the 
 room, as completely as though he had never pos- 
 sessed a place in either, leaving her swamped by her 
 new infatuation. 
 
 Slowly she advanced to the center of the floor and 
 smoothed out the crumpled note. How clever he 
 was ! With a tender little sigh she folded it care- 
 fully and slipped it into the bosom of her gown. 
 Then flushing a little, she removed her long outer 
 wrap and laid it, with her hat and furs, upon the 
 couch. She was wearing a trailing gown of blue, 
 almost medieval in its simplicity, which clung 
 softly to the long lines of her graceful figure. A 
 trifle self-consciously she went to one of the swing- 
 ing mirrors and smoothed her close-braided hair 
 before it, turning away only when its arrangement 
 had been completed to her entire satisfaction.
 
 1 88 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 When this was accomplished she set herself down 
 upon the sofa to wait, but a sudden nervousness came 
 upon her, and springing up again she began to pace 
 back and forth. What had possessed her to come 
 here alone? What would her father say if he knew 
 of her doing so? Poor man! He seemed worried 
 enough nowadays without her adding the burden 
 of an action of which he would not approve! Oh, 
 that trouble of his! If only she knew what it was! 
 Would Pedro be able to help her? Pedro! What 
 would he think of her for coming here alone? On 
 the occasions of her former visits to this place there 
 had been company many people talking all at once 
 and eating silly food while pretending to look at 
 the pictures. 
 
 But surely Pedro could not think less of her for 
 coming unchaperoned. No Bohemian would. And, 
 anyway, was she not a Bohemian herself? Had she 
 not learned to laugh at the ridiculous conventions 
 of life as more hypocrisy? Still 
 
 There was a footstep upon the landing, and the 
 door opened suddenly. Expecting to see Pedro, 
 she whirled about with a word of greeting, but to 
 her amazement, in his stead the doorway was occu- 
 pied by a woman !
 
 CONCERNING BOHEMIA 189 
 
 It was Cassie. 
 
 For a long moment neither woman spoke, but 
 stood staring intently, one as much amazed as the 
 other. 
 
 "Good morning," said Iris interrogatively, the 
 question following swift on the heels of the first 
 pang of jealousy she had ever experienced. 
 
 What woman was this who entered his apartment 
 as though by right? 
 
 Cassie's smile was disarming. 
 
 "Pretty, and a lady a rich lady," she said. 
 "Why, you must be her! Well, I'm glad to see 
 you !" 
 
 "Who are you, please?" repeated Iris, smiling a 
 little in response, despite herself. 
 
 "Of course you'd have to ask," replied Cassie. 
 "He wouldn't be likely to have mentioned me to 
 you. No more has he told me anything about you ; 
 not knowingly, that is. But just the same, I've no 
 need to return your question." 
 
 "You are correct in supposing he has not spoken 
 of you," said Iris, puzzled, but with a cold fear 
 creeping over her. "Why should he have done so? 
 I I have not known him very long, and we have 
 only talked about What is your name?"
 
 190 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 "My name is Miss Goodell," replied the girl, still 
 smiling, her eyes full of curiosity. 
 
 "And who how do you know me?" asked Iris. 
 
 "Men are funny things," said Cassie. "They don't 
 say much when they are really in love with some one. 
 Oh, I knew you must be on the job somewhere the 
 minute he said he had a luncheon engagement 
 yesterday. The way he said it put me wise." 
 
 "And you were annoyed because you are " be- 
 gan Iris. 
 
 Cassie stared at her in amazement, open-mouthed, 
 as though scarcely able to believe her ears. Then 
 she sprang down from the table with a commanding 
 gesture. 
 
 "Hold on a minute!" she cried. "I see what you 
 mean, only I couldn't believe my hearing for a sec- 
 ond. You think because I walked in here like 
 that! . . . Lord! Trust a good woman to 
 think the worst ! I guess you don't know much about 
 studio life. Come back here, kid; I want to talk to 
 you like a grandmother." 
 
 Iris had reached the door, her coat upon her arm, 
 but the swift torrent of words, with the reproof 
 they bore, made her pause there. Pictured upon 
 the model's face was disgust, mingled with amuse-
 
 CONCERNING BOHEMIA 191 
 
 ment, back of which was a wide sympathetic un- 
 derstanding that made the slangy little person, who 
 was scarcely her senior, seem ages old. Disgust! 
 This little feminine God-knows-what felt disgust of 
 her, Iris Vanderpool, the immaculate! That such 
 a condition of affairs could arise was in itself arrest- 
 ing. At recollecton of her hasty words, the younger 
 woman blushed again, turning to the other, half 
 irresolutely. 
 
 "Then I was mis oh! I am sorry!" she cried, 
 on a sudden impulse stretching out her hand. "Will 
 you forgive me?" 
 
 "Of course I will. Cut the comedy!" said Cassie. 
 "Now, come sit down and have a little chat. You 
 really oughtn't to go off the handle like that I've 
 been awful anxious to see you !" 
 
 "But really, how did you know about me?" be- 
 gan Iris. 
 
 Again the girl laughed. 
 
 "I pose for him," she said, "and I ain't generally 
 considered to be lacking in charm. Well, the charm 
 failed, and when it does, there's usually a better 
 reason than any lack of looks on my part. You are 
 that reason. I guessed it right off. Are you going 
 to marry him?"
 
 192 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 "Oh!" cried Iris, startled by the suddenness of 
 the question; "why do you how do I ' 
 
 "So he ain't asked you yet," observed Cassie 
 shrewdly. 
 
 "How do you know that?" Iris flared at her. 
 
 "Because you'd have said yes to my question if 
 he had," Cassie replied. 
 
 Iris arose in indignation, but reseated herself, bit- 
 ing her lip. 
 
 "By the way, what have you come here for?" 
 asked Cassie, watching her closely. "If you ain't 
 engaged to him, a visit by your lonesome is a lit- 
 tle " 
 
 "I came to pose," said Iris breathlessly. "Signor 
 Pedro is going to paint my portrait." 
 
 "Even so, your kind don't generally come alone, 
 do they?" said the elder girl gently. 
 
 "You are quite mistaken !" cried Iris. "It is suffi- 
 ciently customary. You said just now that I knew 
 nothing of the life of the studios. Well, again you 
 are mistaken. I do. I am in them constantly. 
 That I am not an artist does not prove that I am not 
 a Bohemian, and utterly accustomed to freedom of 
 thought and action !"
 
 CONCERNING BOHEMIA 193 
 
 In a manner filled with smoldering defiance, al- 
 though intended to convey an impression of abso- 
 lutely unconscious habit, she helped herself to a 
 cigarette, lighting it clumsily. 
 
 "If you think I am not a woman of the world 
 you are utterly wrong," she added, and then sud- 
 denly fell to coughing. 
 
 "Don't try to smoke that; it'll choke you!" said 
 Cassie, shouting with laughter. "Put it down! 
 That's right. Now listen to me, and don't cry. 
 There's nothing to weep over. What I'm going to 
 tell you is the straight goods, see? I'm not exactly 
 a lady myself, but I know the real thing when I 
 see it, and this time it's you, with no mistake!" 
 
 They seated themselves before the fire now, side 
 by side, Iris submitting meekly to being placed as 
 Cassie indicated. The latter fingered the cheap 
 bracelets upon her wrist as she spoke, rapidly, and 
 Iris listened, her blue eyes wide. 
 
 "Now, I'm not a swell," began Cassie; "and 
 probably you'll say I ain't fit to advise you. And 
 so I ain't, but I do know something more about this 
 world than you do. That's pretty clear, and I want 
 to slip you a tip. It's this : You carefully brought
 
 194 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 up girls think it's a great lark to come into 'Bo- 
 hemia/ as you call it, and do crazy things, as 
 though you was in a foreign country where you 
 didn't expect to be seen. It's that queer notion, that 
 what people are told not to do, is fun to do, that's 
 brought you here. You came alone because it made 
 you feel like a 'real devil' to do so ; lighting the 
 cigarette, the same. But you ain't a Bohemian and 
 never can be, because it's not in you because all 
 this informal life -is a game to you. You have to 
 live it unconsciously before you belong. You only 
 play it. But the trouble is, you can't step back safe 
 behind your locked doors of respectability when 
 you quit feeling it's a game, see? And your kind 
 would always be pounding on them doors, trying 
 to get back once you was really locked out, see? 
 And you'd be unhappy. Now, your set would lock 
 you out P. D. Q. if they caught you coming to 
 studios by your lonesome. Why, you know that if 
 you think a minute ! You don't really mind my say- 
 ing that, do you? I mean it the right way." 
 
 "I see," said Iris in a low voice. 
 
 "And there's another thing," said Cassie. "They 
 are all alike in one thing, the men are. The harder 
 a thing is to get, the worse they want it. Oh, don't
 
 CONCERNING BOHEMIA 195 
 
 mistake! There's no sense in being offish. But 
 there's no use running after them, believe mtl 
 You'll only scare 'em to death !" 
 
 "But I'm not " began Iris, painfully conscious 
 of having come alone for the express purpose of giv- 
 ing Pedro the greater opportunity for sentiment. 
 
 "Then mind you don't!" said Cassie, rising as the 
 door flew back to admit Pedro. 
 
 "Madonna!" he cried, throwing the parcel that 
 he carried upon the table and going to Iris with out- 
 stretched hands. "I entreat your forgiveness, but 
 there was no paint with which to make the divine 
 blue see, like this!" He swooped down upon a 
 length of silk which lay near by and flung it upon 
 her shoulder. "I have it now, and you will not be 
 angry because I was absent, eh?" 
 
 "Oh, no," she answered, beaming at the sound of 
 his voice. 
 
 He next turned to Cassie, the sight of whom did 
 not disconcert him in the least, a fact which Iris 
 noted with relief. 
 
 "The cakes were wonderful !" he exclaimed to the 
 model. "Not until a moment ago did I realize that 
 you must have made them yourself. I thank you !" 
 He kissed her hand. "You know this lady, Miss
 
 196 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 Vanderpool?" he asked, taking her to Iris. "This 
 is a friend who has been so good to me!" 
 
 "She has been kind to me, also," said Iris. 
 
 "Ah! she is your friend, Madonna? That is 
 good! I did not know. However, we will get to 
 work now if you are willing. Step upon the plat- 
 form, so!" 
 
 Cassie, having gathered up the remains of the 
 little cakes, to which Pedro had evidently referred, 
 was about to take a reluctant departure, when Iris, 
 turning around under Pedro's guidance, stopped her 
 with a gesture. 
 
 "Don't go away," she said shyly, moved by an 
 impulse she could not have defined. "If you are not 
 too busy, won't you sit in here? You will give me 
 confidence." 
 
 The girl looked at her suspiciously. What did 
 this move portend? Was it really the hand of 
 friendship? At any rate if she consented it would 
 do no harm. 
 
 "All right, I'd just as soon," she remarked non- 
 chalantly. 
 
 "How delightful that you are friends !" hummed 
 Pedro, busy with the wondrous blue drapery. 
 "Friends, friends; oh, world of friendship!"
 
 CONCERNING BOHEMIA 197 
 
 "Thank you," said Iris, without spoiling the pose; 
 and thereafter spoke no more during the interval. 
 
 The elder girl went silently to the bookcase and 
 stood covertly watching the painter, who already 
 seemed to have forgotten the women. Cassie had 
 simply ceased to exist for him at all, and the per- 
 sonality of Iris had merged into the wider ego of 
 art itself. The line was there; the color was there; 
 the soul he would bring to the very surface of her 
 exquisitely textured skin; but Iris, the woman, had 
 ceased to be, as far as he was concerned. 
 
 Before many minutes had passed Iris herself be- 
 came aware of Pedro's detachment, and knew that 
 she needed no guardian to protect her from this ab- 
 stracted spirit, who, with earnest brow, labored so 
 devoutly at the rudiments of his work; knew, also, 
 that the smaller conventions of life had no existence 
 in his mind, and that he had noted her request to 
 Cassie as little as he had noted the fact of her orig- 
 inally having come alone. He wanted to paint her, 
 and he was doing so. That was the main point of 
 her presence, and evidently to him a sufficient one. 
 So far as conversation went, she might as well not 
 have been there. 
 
 The morning wore on very quietly, and in the
 
 198 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 rests little was said, Pedro simply releasing Iris 
 with a signal, and at once falling to touching and 
 rubbing of the canvas. Then she would resume the 
 pose, and he would begin anew. 
 
 One o'clock came and went, and still they heeded 
 not, and it was well on toward two when the first 
 interruption occurred. A timid knock sounded at the 
 door, as though some tiny child were seeking ad- 
 mission, and then, before Cassie could respond to it, 
 the gigantic figure of Leigh slipped in through an 
 incredibly small crack, and looked about him. Iris 
 smiled a greeting, but did not move, and Pedro did 
 not notice the intrusion. Leigh dropped into a chair 
 beside Cassie, with whom he seemed to be on terms 
 of long acquaintance. 
 
 "I thought you were going to pose for Elloch this 
 morning!" he whispered. 
 
 She looked at him in comical dismay. 
 
 "Why, so I was!" she whispered back. "But I 
 clean forgot ! How did you know ? Ain't you been 
 somewhere?" 
 
 "Yes," he responded, "for two weeks. But, I just 
 passed Elloch, who was cursing you out. What are 
 you doing, loafing around here?" 
 
 "I am chaperoning Miss Vanderpool."
 
 CONCERNING BOHEMIA 199 
 
 "You are!" ejaculated Leigh. 
 
 "I am honest," she said, with serious eyes. 
 
 "There!" exclaimed Pedro, throwing down his 
 tools. "Enough for to-day." 
 
 "I should think so!" cried Leigh. "You look ex- 
 hausted. And you, too, Miss Vanderpool. I didn't 
 know you had met Pedro," he continued, helping 
 her to descend from the model throne. "You see, I 
 have been away, and am behind the times." 
 
 "Oh ! yes, we are friends," said Pedro, his face 
 lighting up wonderfully at sight of Leigh. "Wel- 
 come home! Did you get the commission? Are 
 they delighted with the sketch? But, of course! 
 Dios! you are a sight to gladden the heart !" 
 
 Pedro's cheeks were aflame, and his eyes shone 
 with excitement. Iris noted this with wonder, and 
 thought that truly his friendship for Leigh must be 
 great, since the mere sight of the sculptor aroused in 
 him an enthusiasm so far beyond any which he dis- 
 played for others. And, indeed, at this moment Pe- 
 dro appeared to see no one but the tall gaunt man, 
 whose hands he held. To break the little tableau, 
 Iris looked at her watch, and noted the hour with 
 an exclamation of surprise. Then she began slip- 
 ping into her outdoor garments.
 
 200 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 "I must fly!" she cried. "When shall I come 
 again ?" 
 
 "I er suppose I call you up and you can let me 
 know?" said Pedro, looking, however, at Leigh. 
 "We must have it soon. Ah ! it is good to have you 
 back, amigo mio!" he added to the sculptor. 
 
 "To-morrow?" said Iris. It almost seemed as if 
 she were persisting. "I could come in the morn- 
 ing." 
 
 "Will you be working to-morrow?" Pedro asked 
 of Leigh. 
 
 Abraham Lincoln Leigh nodded his long head. 
 
 "This day I loaf with you," he said. "To-morrow 
 I shall begin to set up the big group." 
 
 Pedro turned to Iris. 
 
 "To-morrow morning will be splendid then!" he 
 said. "You will come early, eh ?" 
 
 "Yes," she replied, "but now I must go." 
 
 "And I, also," said Leigh. "I must leave an or- 
 der at Penelli's for plasterline. I'll be back in an 
 hour, Pedro. Cassie, you'd better hustle around to 
 Elloch's and make your peace! May I show you to 
 your motor, Miss Vanderpool? It's waiting out on 
 the avenue." 
 
 "Thank you," said Iris, "I shall be glad." Then
 
 CONCERNING BOHEMIA 201 
 
 she turned to Cassie, all her original antagonism 
 coming back full force. What right had this girl 
 to dictate to her, Iris? How could this little model 
 know what was wisest and best for a woman so in- 
 finitely above her that the very tone of a man's voice 
 changed in speaking to them? 
 
 "Good-by," said Iris stiffly, ignoring the girl's 
 outstretched hand. Then she went out with Leigh, 
 her head very much in the air. 
 
 Cassie said nothing, but stood gazing dumbly after 
 her. Then she let her hand drop, and gave her 
 shoulders a little shrug. What was the use? Their 
 worlds were too far apart. 
 
 "Pedro," she said wistfully. It is not good to be 
 ignored. 
 
 But Pedro did not answer. He was in the adjoin- 
 ing room, busily engaged in washing the stains from 
 his hands, prior to adventuring forth with Leigh. 
 As he splashed, he whistled gaily, a waltz that 
 was strange and arresting. Where had she heard 
 it before? Ah! yes! the people on the ground floor 
 played it sometimes. It had a sad little refrain. 
 
 "Good-by, Pedro," she said again. But still he 
 did not hear, and with a little gesture as though she 
 let something fall from her hands, she went out,
 
 202 
 
 closing the door so softly that the lilt of the tune 
 covered the sound of her going. 
 
 When Pedro and Leigh went down the stairs, 
 arm in arm, the door of the ground-floor apartment 
 was slammed with violence, just as they passed it. 
 
 "Do you know the chap who lives here?" asked 
 Leigh. 
 
 "Never saw him," said Pedro. "These tenants 
 are all very quiet I never meet any of them, except 
 Cassie." 
 
 "I've seen this down-stairs fellow," said Leigh. 
 "Disagreeable fellow. Name's Rowe, I believe." 
 
 "I have never seen him," Pedro replied. "Where 
 shall we go, eh ?" 
 
 "Paleri's," said Leigh; "we can talk there. I 
 have made a discovery that I must impart to you. 
 And later, there is a party at the League. They 
 want me to speak. I'm instructor there, you know. 
 Mind going?" 
 
 "Never you fear !" laughed Pedro assentingly. 
 
 And so they went to eat pink spaghetti at Pale- 
 ri's on Washington Square (lord! how often we 
 eat), and they talked fluently over the acrid wine. 
 Yes, Leigh had secured the western commission.
 
 CONCERNING BOHEMIA 203 
 
 Yes, they liked the models rather, but the important 
 thing was the discovery. The discovery dealt with 
 architecture and was, briefly, that the trouble with 
 sky-scraping buildings was that their perpendicular 
 lines were not sufficiently accentuated. A most im- 
 portant fact, this; and he, Leigh, had hit upon a 
 way of improvement. It was thus and so. He drew 
 some diagrams upon the cloth, and "Oh!" and 
 "Ah !" said Pedro, illuminated. 
 
 Other vital subjects of the same order came to 
 their minds, and Leigh, completely under the spell 
 of Pedro's charm once more, entirely forgot to in- 
 quire further into the friendship with the Asphalt 
 King's daughter, which had sprung up during his 
 absence. They had a wonderful time ; for anything 
 seemed interesting, personal, intimate, so be it they 
 were together again. Only now, indeed, did they 
 realize how sorely they had missed each other. 
 
 When it was time to leave for the Art League, 
 they swung up Fifth Avenue, arm in arm, and 
 pausing at Forty-second Street, gave one of their 
 "art instructions" to a small and mocking group. 
 The subject was the deficiencies of the new Public 
 Library, and Leigh informed them that its propor- 
 tions were wrong; the columns were too fat for their
 
 204 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 height, the doors too small, etc. It was an excellent 
 talk, brief and to the point Two girls, with painted 
 cheeks, stopped their prowling along the dark wall 
 of the public garden and stood listening to the rich 
 tone of this ultra-masculine person's voice. A col- 
 lege youth, rather "elevated" by a course at the 
 Manhattan bar, and a brace of roistering compan- 
 ions, were there also. Two newsboys stared up into 
 the face of the speaker, and on the outer edge of the 
 circle, half-ashamed, a theater-bound suburban cou- 
 ple lingered. A supercilious policeman and a non- 
 descript loafer or two were in the crowd, and a 
 ruddy-faced old gentleman in evening clothes. Be- 
 hind him stood three sailors from a battleship, and 
 a professional dog-fighter, with his strong white an- 
 imal in leash. Nowhere, thought Pedro, could a 
 more cosmopolitan audience be found. This, indeed, 
 was getting instruction to the people. And such a 
 lecture ! They could not fail to understand it ! 
 
 Leigh finished with a short peroration concerning 
 the duty of all citizens to make their city a place of 
 beauty, and of the reaction of beauty upon the pub- 
 lic mind. Then he thanked them for their attention. 
 The painted women giggled, and nudging each 
 other, called out some vulgar colloquialism. "Can
 
 CONCERNING BOHEMIA 205 
 
 the comedy," yelled one newsboy, rushing off after 
 dodging the policeman's stick. The loafers shuf- 
 fled away wordlessly, and an ancient match-woman 
 begged for charity. The suburban couple had not 
 waited for the end, and had soon made off to their 
 dollar-fifty seats. If the meaning of what Leigh 
 said had penetrated to the minds of any of these, 
 they gave no sign of it, but slid away on their 
 own affairs. All, that is, but the ruddy old gentle- 
 man in evening clothes. He came forward and 
 shook Leigh by the hand. 
 
 "I entirely agree with you in your criticism, sir," 
 said he. "My own plans, which I submitted in the 
 competition for that building, were refused, sir, and 
 they had no such faults as you very justly find here, 
 sir!" 
 
 With which he went his complacent way, leaving 
 Pedro and his friend to discuss amusedly the little 
 adventure, and brood upon the tremendous lot they 
 knew about art, the while they reached Fifty-sev- 
 enth Street and the National Academy Building. 
 
 Here, in the well-lighted assembly-room, Leigh, 
 his rough tweed clothing very shabby under the 
 fierce light, made another speech, not nearly so 
 good this time, and delivered rather self-con-
 
 206 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 sciously. The wide floor was well covered by a 
 cosmopolitan crowd, seated upon camp-chairs, stu- 
 dents, both men and women, instructors and their 
 wives, and parents of some of the pupils. The stu- 
 dents were of varied ages, some very young, not 
 more than sixteen, and some old enough to be the 
 parents of these. Here good artists had sat and 
 graduated ; here sat many who would become noted. 
 All were vivacious, some were clean, and the pro- 
 gram for their entertainment was furnished from 
 the home talent of the League, both past and pres- 
 ent. Edwards, the illustrator, sang to his guitar; 
 surely no one could do it so well as he, so tuneful 
 and so debonair. And Collings, the man who draws 
 the dogs, talked a song which he accompanied upon 
 the piano. An improvised grand opera followed, 
 and then the portrait-painter, whose class it is so 
 easy to enter and so difficult to graduate from, 
 spoke, a trifle pompously. Milligan was there also, 
 jolly little Milligan ; and he recited a French-Cana- 
 dian poem (very badly, by the way). 
 
 On the walls of the room in which all this took 
 place hung many paintings, mostly out of frames, 
 and all of them good, though many were too "ad- 
 vanced" to show to the conservative public. It was
 
 CONCERNING BOHEMIA 207 
 
 the "best" room of the League, and later the throng 
 trooped up three flights of stairs to where the class- 
 rooms had been thrown together for dancing. Some 
 one played the piano. How the dancers spun and 
 whirled! Such odd-looking couples! There was 
 one particularly wild-looking girl, with earrings 
 of red sealing-wax. Some said she might be great 
 some day. And the red-headed boy with whom she 
 danced had just won the Prix de Rome. Ah, well ! 
 there were too many of them, good, bad and in- 
 different, to take time for the picturing of them all ; 
 too many types, ugly and beautiful, successful or 
 failing! Imagine them for yourself; they are in 
 every atelier in the world. 
 
 Pedro and Leigh watched them for a while, and 
 even did a "grizzly bear" themselves, greatly to the 
 joy of their audience. Then they clattered down the 
 carpetless stairs and went around to the "Alps" for 
 a little brown drink they make there. Prunes go 
 into the concocting of it, and you drink only one 
 glass if you are wise. And over this they tackled 
 cosmic problems to their heart's content, until it was 
 close on to one o'clock, when, in a very enthusiastic 
 mood, Pedro saw Leigh to the latter's door. They 
 stood for several moments in the shelter of the vesti-
 
 208 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 bule, comparing the English of Oscar Wilde to that 
 of the St. James Bible. Then Leigh found his latch- 
 key and Pedro turned homeward. 
 
 But he was not destined to reach the studio imme- 
 diately. 
 
 Before he had gone to the end of the block, he 
 turned, and stood quite motionless, looking up at 
 Leigh's window, where a dim light soon appeared 
 behind the cracked and yellow blinds. Until this 
 light had been extinguished, he waited, looking up 
 with a strange expression in his eyes. Then, when 
 the window went dark, he buried his face in his 
 hands and seemed to purge his soul of some trouble. 
 After a moment or two, however, he abruptly 
 squared his shoulders and resumed his homeward 
 way ; only to be halted by the sight of two men, who 
 issued from the swinging door of a little subter- 
 ranean cafe and paused together under a street 
 lamp. 
 
 At his first glimpse of the taller of the two men, 
 Pedro's heart gave a great thump of surprise. It 
 was Mr. Vanderpool, Iris' father! And who was 
 the disreputable-looking fellow to whom he was 
 talking? Why had the chap such a familiar look? 
 Where had he seerj the fellow before? Impossible
 
 CONCERNING BOHEMIA 209 
 
 to remember. But whatever their former encounter, 
 it paled in interest beside the fact that the mystery 
 he had undertaken to unravel was probably being 
 enacted, in part, under his very nose. 
 
 Clearly some mischief was afoot. By his tone 
 and gestures, the smaller man appeared to be dictat- 
 ing to the millionaire, who followed his words anx- 
 iously. Assuming a careless saunter, Pedro pulled 
 his cap far down over his eyes and walked past the 
 two. 
 
 "A week is impossible; too long, by far," the 
 villainous-looking person was saying as Pedro 
 passed. "I warn you, it must be ready by three days 
 from now at the latest." 
 
 Vanderpool's low-voiced reply did not reach the 
 straining ears of Pedro, who had stepped into an 
 area- way just beyond, where he could watch 
 through the railing without being seen him- 
 self. But he could hear nothing further, ow- 
 ing to the direction of the wind. What was 
 to be done? How strange that chance should 
 have let him stumble upon the action of a mystery 
 which he had scarcely believed in the existence of! 
 And mystery there was, beyond a doubt, else why 
 this meeting in a little unnamed wine-cellar why
 
 210 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 this Hour of the night? But how should he, Pedro, 
 act? Follow Vanderpool? Perhaps! In all prob- 
 ability the millionaire would go directly home. Fol- 
 low the other? That might prove more fruitful. 
 While he waited in perplexity his problem was de- 
 cided for him by the appearance of a cab, which 
 Vanderpool hailed, and getting into, drove off. 
 
 After waiting a moment to make certain of the di- 
 rection taken by the cab, the man with whom Van- 
 derpool had been talking started off rapidly in the 
 opposite way, which led toward Sixth Avenue. On 
 the instant Pedro was shadowing him, dodging in 
 and out of the darker spots and keeping at a discreet 
 distance. 
 
 After a few moments he realized that they were 
 bound in the direction of his own studio ! He quick- 
 ened his pace, lessening the distance between his 
 quarry and himself, for they were now on the lighted 
 avenue, where boldness was less conspicuous than 
 stealth. The man ahead was evidently in a hurry 
 and did not pause, nor once look around. And all 
 the time Pedro puzzled his head as to where he 
 had seen the fellow's back before. He had an ex- 
 cellent memory, but in this case it was scarcely 
 heeded, for one of the man's shoulders was slightly
 
 CONCERNING BOHEMIA 211 
 
 higher than the other and he had a peculiarly sneak- 
 ing gait. Pedro became so much absorbed in try- 
 ing to place this person that he could scarcely be- 
 lieve his eyes when the man vanished from before 
 them. A swift glance about showed that he was 
 in i his home block. There was only one place into 
 uhich the man could have gone Muldoon Place! 
 Before him loomed the dark and narrow gate, with 
 its dim lantern, showing the name flickeringly. 
 Breaking into a run, Pedro gained the entrance just 
 in time to see the man he was pursuing gain ad- 
 mittance to the interior house by the basement door. 
 For a moment he stood stock-still with surprise. The 
 basement of the house in which he, himself, lived! 
 Why, that was a part of those people's apartment 
 what was their name? Ah, yes, Rowe! 
 
 Alive with curiosity, he crossed the court with 
 cautious steps, and tiptoeing to the barred window, 
 which was further reinforced by shutters on the in- 
 side, knelt down upon the stones and applied his 
 eye to the crack of a lame slat. 
 
 At first he could see nothing but a patch of red 
 carpet, so he shifted slightly, bringing into full 
 view the man whom he had followed. At this he 
 suddenly remembered. It was the tramp who had
 
 212 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 tried to rob Iris! What a mystery was here! First 
 a man tries to rob the daughter and then is seen in 
 secret conference with the father ! Papers! Yes, she 
 had papers in that little silk purse, and this rascal 
 knew their value, no doubt. But what could they 
 concern? The man had moved aside now, disclos- 
 ing another, at sight of whom Pedro's heart liked 
 to have stopped. "Ricardo !" he gasped, amazed. 
 But his gaze and his painful wonderment were in- 
 stantly deflected from "Rowe" to a woman who 
 sat beyond him. Feature for feature, the face she 
 lifted in the light was his, Pedro's, very own. She 
 was his counterpart, all but the color of the hair! 
 
 Like a wounded animal, Pedro gave a little moan, 
 and clutching at his heart, dropped his head upon 
 the stone sill and sobbed gaspingly, terribly. Then 
 a noise inside the room startled him. They were 
 coming to the door. Evidently the woman was leav- 
 ing. Arising, he flung out his arms toward the 
 warmly-lit interior with a single gesture of passion- 
 ate longing, and turning fled terror-stricken to the 
 sanctuary of his room above stairs.
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 SUNDRY ADVENTURES 
 
 ON that night when Rowe had struck Old Nita, 
 and she had fallen senseless into the arms 
 of Samuel Hill, peace and order were long in com- 
 ing to the little summer garden. 
 
 When a light had been lit to disclose the disorder 
 of the bar, Hill's first thought was to get Nita 
 and himself away before the matter went any 
 further. A swift examination sufficed to show that 
 she had not regained consciousness by the time that 
 Mikey had begun telephoning for the police. Once 
 let the bluecoats arrive and it would be no easy mat- 
 ter to escape publicity. Whatever Nita's grievance 
 against the man, Rowe, it must forego immediate 
 settlement! No good could come of a court- room 
 scene just at present. Besides, Hill was now certain 
 that the foreigner was in reality his tenant, and he 
 could, consequently, assist in finding and bringing 
 him to justice later. But what was to be done for 
 Old Nita? Would she never come to? Seizing a 
 
 213
 
 214 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 bottle of brandy, he poured out a-little and succeeded 
 in forcing a drop or two between her lips, whereat, 
 choking slightly, she came to life. Apparently, she 
 had received no injury more severe than the shock 
 of the blow. Thank heaven she was no worse ! 
 
 "Old Mother, can you walk?" he queried anx- 
 iously. 
 
 But she seemed not to hear him. In an instant 
 more Mikey would leave the telephone, and it would 
 certainly be a mistake to wait for that to happen ! 
 With an effort he gathered the old woman into his 
 arms, and after a moment or two, found himself in 
 the street. He extracted the old-fashioned key from 
 the lock, and, closing the storm-door, fastened it on 
 the outside. But what to do next? Anxiously he 
 gazed up and down the deserted snow-bound ave- 
 nue. At a glance it was plain that he could not car- 
 ry Nita to the car line, and he began, too late, to 
 curse the lack of sense that had led them so far 
 a-field at such an hour. It seemed as though the 
 Irishman must be upon them at any instant now ! 
 
 At the moment of his despair there emerged 
 from the basement of one of the houses a little down 
 the line the cabby to whom the solitary remaining 
 vehicle before the saloon belonged. Whether he
 
 SUNDRY ADVENTURES 215 
 
 was warmed by a successful amatory adventure, by 
 the wines of an unconscious host in the person of 
 the cook's employer, or by some other agency, must 
 go unrecorded here, but the fact remained that his 
 good humor was such that without solicitation he 
 hailed the little group in the snow with a proposition 
 which seemed like a beneficence direct from heaven. 
 
 "Ole lady hurted?" beamed this cherubic person- 
 age. 
 
 "No, only tired out," lied Hill glibly. 
 
 "I'll histe yer to a car," suggested the man. 
 "Never di-serted a lidy in distress. Nope!" 
 
 "I'm afraid they wouldn't let us on a car," ex- 
 claimed Hill. "Are you going down-town, by 
 chance?" 
 
 "No, I'm a-goin' a-purpose!" grinned the man. 
 "Get in ; I'll take yer fur es I'm goin' !" 
 
 Hill did not wait to be urged further, but car- 
 ried Nita to the carriage door, which the heavily 
 muffled coachman held open. 
 
 "Easy there, with yer ma !" the latter warned him. 
 "Now jump in yerself. This heat is too fierce to 
 lay about in." 
 
 The horse, which had stood passively under its 
 meager blanket for hours, scarcely shifting a foot,
 
 216 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 now scented the bear, and sidled off a little, its 
 city-trained senses scarcely revolting, yet finding in 
 that unfamiliar odor some warning of danger, and 
 the two men noted the action. 
 
 "What about the bear?" gasped Hill. 
 
 From within the saloon came sounds which indi- 
 cated that Mikey had discovered the trick played 
 upon him. 
 
 "Whoa, my baby!" roared the happy cabby. 
 "Push the damn bear inside!" 
 
 In a moment it was done, not without protest 
 from Mr. Jones. And as the bony horse, tossing his 
 old head about with many a suspicious sniff, set off 
 at a tremendous pace, the window of the saloon flew 
 open to disgorge the rotund figure of Mikey, whx> 
 shouted an unintelligible threat, or command, upon 
 the snow-filled air. 
 
 Rocking and swaying, the cab sped down-town, 
 the old horse giving as good an imitation of a run- 
 away as lay within his depleted prowess, the occu- 
 pants of the vehicle tossing, helplessly about in a 
 confused mass of gipsy, man and bear, together 
 with a great rattling of the chain and pole. Out- 
 side, upon the box, the joyous cabby sang about a 
 girl, who, if the song was to be believed, was wait-
 
 SUNDRY ADVENTURES 217 
 
 ing for him by the Suwanee River (or some river). 
 We take it he really referred to the cook in ninety- 
 odd street. The horse, unable to understand why it 
 could not out-distance that bear smell, continued to 
 hurry, much to its owner's delight. Half-way to 
 Fourteenth Street, he dropped the little front win- 
 dow and stuck his head in. 
 
 "C. Murphy thinks the bear's a-follerin' of him," 
 he informed Hill. "I'd like to git that there animal 
 as a permanent institution. We ain't gone so fast 
 
 in years 
 
 Whereat, owing to lack of guidance, "C. Murphy" 
 nearly collided with a street lamp, thereby demand- 
 ing the cabby's head, which was promptly with- 
 drawn, and its jovial attention fixed upon its proper 
 affairs. 
 
 Meanwhile, Old Nita had not fully recovered, but 
 lay against Hill's shoulder, moaning so pitifully 
 that he began to fear that she was more severely 
 hurt than he had at first supposed, and to regret 
 that he had not let her be sent to a hospital, no mat- 
 ter what consequences might result. 
 
 "By jove! Flower Hospital is not far from here," 
 he muttered, peering through the frosted window. 
 "I believe we had better go there."
 
 218 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 At sound of his voice the old woman, who seemed 
 to have understood what he said, roused herself with 
 a fearful effort and protested. 
 
 "No, no!" she gasped. "Back to Beau-Jean! 
 Not hospital ! Promise!" 
 
 "Very well, I promise!" he said. 
 
 An expression of the most intense relief relaxed 
 the muscles of her face, and she seemed, soon after, 
 to faint. At Twelfth Street the cab came to a sud- 
 den halt beside the curb, and the driver, dismount- 
 ing from the box, opened the door and looked in. 
 
 "This is where my stable is at," he announced. 
 "Right down the block. Guess you'll have ter git 
 out. How's yer ma?" he added solicitously, as 
 though to repair his rudeness in ejecting them. 
 
 "Pretty bad," said Hill. "Gone off again, I'm 
 afraid." 
 
 The cabby wrinkled up his face with a perplexed 
 stare, and removing his hat, scratched his head with 
 one heavily mittened hand. 
 
 "I really hadn't oughter," said he, "considerin' 
 the hour and all, but I guess it's gotter be done. 
 Whereabouts do you live?" 
 
 "Little Jones Street," said Hill, and gave the num-
 
 SUNDRY ADVENTURES 219 
 
 her. "I've a bit of money. Could you get us around 
 there, do you think?" 
 
 "Well," said the cabby, "I might as well make a 
 night of it, I suppose. Take good care of yer ma, 
 now, and I'll have yer home in a jiffy !" 
 
 Then he remounted the box, and soon they were 
 wending a tortuous way through the silent squalor 
 of lower Greenwich village. They stopped at last 
 before a tall tenement, a building of uncompromising 
 ugliness, whose intricate network of fire-escapes was 
 hung now with a fairy drapery of white. 
 
 Whining with disgust at being again disturbed, 
 Mr. Jones jumped out clumsily, followed by Hill, 
 who, with the cabby's help, carried the unconscious 
 Nita into the unlighted hallway, which gaped, sinis- 
 ter and forbidding, under the nethermost of the 
 crowded fire-escape balconies. Here Hill, one arm 
 about his charge, fumbled in his breast for his wal- 
 let. But the cabby put up a restraining hand. 
 
 "Never mind the coin !" he laughed. "Youse 
 need it more'n me, I guess. Better let the doctor 
 take it; you're a-goin' ter need ter call him in! 
 Yer seem all to the good, even if yer be dagoes !" 
 
 "You're a gentleman!" exclaimed Hill, holding
 
 220 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 out his hand. "Many thanks for your kindness. 
 You seem very happy. May I ask why? I should 
 like to congratulate you." 
 
 "Oh ! it ain't nothin' much," said the cabby sheep- 
 ishly. "I ain't goin' to be married, thet's all!" 
 
 Wherewith he was gone, and Hill, without stop- 
 ping to ponder upon the content of this odd reply, 
 set himself to carrying Nita up the stairway. At 
 the first landing he stopped and knocked. The door 
 was presently opened by Beau- Jean, a scantily-clad 
 colossus, silhouetted in the aperture against the light 
 of a single candle. With an exclamation of dismay, 
 the man stepped back to admit Hill and his burden, 
 and the painter, staggering across the tiny room, de- 
 posited Nita upon a ragged bed that stood beside 
 the cook stove. 
 
 "Holy mother!" breathed Beau-Jean. "Is she 
 dead?" 
 
 "No! Where are the women?" asked Hill. 
 
 In response to the question Guneviere raised her- 
 self from her pallet of quilts in the opposite cor- 
 ner, a sturdy unmodern figure, with head swathed 
 for sleeping. With entire unconcern for her negli- 
 gee, she arose and came to the assistance of the older 
 woman.
 
 SUNDRY ADVENTURES 221 
 
 "God save us! she is too ancient to survive such 
 injury!" she exclaimed, examining a swelling which 
 was now quite obvious on the crone's forehead. 
 "Hermania! Anna! come!" 
 
 From a tiny inner closet came Hermania, clad as 
 for the day, save for the absence of shoes, and her 
 forehead-band of coins, which was at this moment 
 reposing in her bosom for greater comfort with no 
 less safety. After her came Carlos, sleep-stupid and 
 annoyed. In a moment both women were busy over 
 the prostrated form of the injured one; and to the 
 men Hill was giving an account of the adventure 
 that had brought them to such a pass. They lis- 
 tened without being able to throw the smallest light 
 upon the subject, nor identify the enemy who had 
 assaulted the old lady in so cowardly a fashion. By 
 the time all was done that could be done for Nita, 
 and she lay more easily, Anna appeared from 
 the windowless bedroom at the rear, where she had 
 stopped to put a ribbon in her hair before emerg- 
 ing into the light, which would reveal her to Rico's 
 eyes. Her lover followed on her heels and joined 
 the men, while his mistress took her now useless 
 offers of help to the bedside. 
 
 "Which of you has ever heard of her enemy?"
 
 222 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 Hill was asking. "None, really? And has she no 
 kin whom we should call upon for help ?" 
 
 "Nay," said Beau-Jean, the ponderous, "she is 
 from the America-of-the-South. If she hath kin, 
 they are too far away to levy claim upon." 
 
 "America-of-the-South ! What do you mean ?" 
 
 "Venezuela, I think," said Rico. 
 
 "But how is it possible that no one knows any- 
 thing further about her?" cried Hill. "You have 
 all been with her for years. Surely you must know 
 or the women will, perhaps." 
 
 "No one but Pedro knows," said Rico positively. 
 "They came together; we all know that much. But 
 beyond that !" 
 
 He waved his hand with a gesture expressive of 
 infinite vagueness. 
 
 "Then, if anything threatens her, it may also 
 affect Pedro," said Hill. 
 
 "Perhaps the Old One will speak soon," suggested 
 Beau-Jean, "and then we can find out." 
 
 It was a hope to which they all agreed, but which 
 was not to be fulfilled during the watches of that 
 night. As it became evident that rest was the most 
 important thing for her, and that little or nothing
 
 SUNDRY ADVENTURES 223 
 
 could be done until the morrow, the watchers, on 
 by one, betook themselves to bed. 
 
 Where but a moment since the ribbon-girded head 
 of Anna had shone like some rich finely-carved gem 
 against the soiled and tawdry paper on the wall, 
 the flickering fitful light danced upon the silly pat- 
 tern, for she had gone useless, beautiful, as though 
 she had indeed been a jeweled ornament, snatched 
 away by the hand of her lover. Carlos, taking the 
 money that the day just past had brought to the 
 late comers, tucked it into the leather bag he carried 
 in his breast, and squabbling with his wife, was 
 ejected in company with Beau-Jean, while the re- 
 maining women prepared to share the watches at 
 the sick-bed. 
 
 The little room was close with odors of garlic, of 
 clothing, of bears, of living, and the tallow light 
 flung the shadows in wavering masses over the 
 scanty objects with which the place was furnished. 
 There were the cot, the mass of quilts upon the floor, 
 a corner sink, a stove still cluttered with the imple- 
 ments that had served to prepare the evening 
 meal, a battered chair or two, and a large deal 
 table. At the single tightly-closed window that
 
 224 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 gave upon the snow-filled fire-escape, hung a cheap 
 lace curtain, against which leaned the three bear- 
 staves; while from the cornice hung Rico's flute. 
 But of all its contents, the spirit that pervaded the 
 place was its most striking feature; it was a cham- 
 ber where reality of thought and action was the rule 
 of the day, instead of being the alarming dreaded 
 exception. And this spirit pushed back the narrow 
 walls until they encompassed the earth. 
 
 Hill stood in the doorway looking at the upper 
 half of the old woman's unconscious face, where the 
 light fell upon her hooked nose and wrinkled eye- 
 lids. As he looked he heaved a sigh of admiration, 
 closed the door, muttered something about having 
 "Rembrandt skinned a mile", and went off to the 
 attic where he and Mr. Jones dwelt in brotherly 
 love and in greater order than prevailed below 
 
 The next day a doctor came and pronounced that 
 there was nothing alarming in Nita's injuries, but 
 that she must rest for a few days and have great 
 care. Then he took most of their money, and hav- 
 ing drugged Nita, after the custom of certain beasts 
 who prey upon the not infrequent victim to be found 
 among the tenements, proceeded to make a case
 
 SUNDRY ADVENTURES 225 
 
 for himself whereby he could come daily until his 
 patient's finances were exhausted. And for several 
 days his little plan succeeded, for Guneviere was 
 faithful to the nursing, and administered the drug 
 with great regularity. On the days when Hermania 
 remained at home to care for the old woman, she, 
 too, was painstaking and vigilant. But there came 
 a time when it was Anna's turn to watch, and Anna 
 forgot to give the "medicine". For poor little Anna 
 wept at being separated from Rico, and weeping, 
 fell asleep. When she awoke, the day was gone, 
 and what was more, Nita was gone also. The bed 
 was made, the old woman's clothing had disap- 
 peared, and on the table the empty coffee-cup and 
 plate, showed that Nita had not gone hungry ! 
 
 Now the doctor had been a severe drain upon the 
 resources of these people, and just at present Hill 
 was bringing in the most money, for he added to his 
 exhibition, sketching portraits at twenty-five cents 
 apiece. He was usually the first to set out, and last 
 to return, and this was more regularly the case since 
 Nita's illness, for the two older women were much 
 occupied, and Anna's condition was delicate as she 
 was expecting the advent of an addition to the troop.
 
 226 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 It so happened, then, that on the day just recorded 
 above, he had gone forth even before it was decided 
 that Anna should remain with Nita. 
 
 High-banked on either hand lay the now sullied 
 snow. Up-town, where the carriages go, and glit- 
 tering automobiles slip smoothly along in shining 
 array, carrying gorgeous ladies and indifferent gen- 
 tlemen, the streets were cleaned by now; but down 
 here, where the neighborhood must go a-foot, it 
 matters little what they walk upon because they are 
 already so soiled and bedraggled when they sally 
 forth ! So the snow had been let lie until it was 
 black and hideous. 
 
 Between this dirty rampart and the teeming 
 houses on his other hand, walked Sam Hill, specula- 
 tive, absorbed in thoughts of Iris, dejectedly thank- 
 ful that the need for money was driving him to 
 work, for he was firmly resolved not to draw upon 
 that bank-account, which would inevitably bring 
 him in touch with his former life. It was terrible, 
 but not even work could wholly drive her from his 
 mind. Iris, the golden! How cruel, how cold! 
 What had he not suffered at her hands ! That 
 period of his life was done with forever. No one 
 could even take her place. How he loved her ! How
 
 SUNDRY ADVENTURES 227 
 
 sweet she was! No! he didn't care a rap for her, 
 the silly child! Yes, confound it, he did! 
 
 And so on, past tenements, past gloomy little 
 shops, past meager wares set forth at cellar doors,' 
 on and on he went, absorbed in thought ; and behind 
 him shuffled Mr. Jones, at whom the children stared 
 and pointed; the little dirty children for whom there 
 was not room in the great schools. Women with 
 wrinkled faces and coarse brown wigs stared from 
 beneath their shawls, or from under the massive 
 bundles that they were carrying homeward from 
 the jobber, that the family might be employed there- 
 by in the "home" ; on and on past steep and totter- 
 ing door-step on the little winding streets. Down 
 a back alley they plunged then, man and bear, and 
 emerging upon a wide slatternly avenue, pushed 
 back a slatted swinging door, and entered a saloon. 
 
 There were shining mirrors within, and polished 
 woods, with a fine bar, all arrayed with glasses and 
 bottles in decorative and tempting array. Here was 
 a group of men in a post-midnight mood, hilarious 
 and ready to part with small change. Sam made 
 Mr. Jones dance for them, turn somersaults, sit in 
 an armchair and hold a pipe between his teeth, kiss 
 him, be dead, and perform many other intellectual
 
 228 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 feats beyond the common acquirement of bears. 
 The fruit of this effort was only sixty-one cents, and 
 so, to leave nothing untried on the immediate 
 ground of operation, Hill drew the barkeeper's 
 portrait; an effort which pleased the watchers more 
 than the patron, for Hill, being somewhat absent- 
 minded on Iris' account forgot to be flattering, and 
 drew a coarse fat Irishman in lieu of a sleek hand- 
 some one. However, he was paid a quarter for it 
 (a quarter of a dollar for an original Hill, and a 
 portrait order, at that! Modern society has paid a 
 hundred dollars apiece for just such sketches from 
 the identical pencil, as all the world knows), and the 
 resources of this particular saloon being exhausted, 
 they left. 
 
 The day, from being overcast, was growing into 
 one of glistening blues and whites, and the thought 
 of a wide sapphire horizon-line, unhampered by the 
 irregularities of building-tops, drove him toward 
 the water-front, while in the depths of his conscious- 
 ness lurked a determination to steal out to an open 
 meadow before the day was done. Meanwhile the 
 little streets encompassed him like a maze; and he 
 thought and thought of Iris. A hand-organ reeled 
 off an insinuating rag-time tune, and of his own ac-
 
 SUNDRY ADVENTURES 229 
 
 cord, Mr. Jones began to dance. Sam permitted 
 him to do so for the laughter of the children, the 
 sole reward to be obtained from such an audience. 
 Then he strolled away, ever toward the river, in a 
 northerly direction that would ultimately lead to- 
 ward the open country. And all the while Iris filled 
 his heart and mind, as, indeed, she had done almost 
 every moment since his angry parting from her. 
 
 It came to pass, that, being occupied with the 
 thought of a red-haired girl, such as bore locks of a 
 similar color arrested his eye more frequently and 
 with a more personal interest than did any other 
 type : and so it followed in natural sequence, that 
 when he caught sight of a Titian head (elaborately 
 puffed, and curled, to be sure, and quite unlike 
 Iris' gleaming braids) behind the confusion of fem- 
 inine articles of apparel in the window of a tiny 
 notion-shop, he fancied a resemblance, and stopped 
 to stare. And equally inevitable was it that she 
 should feel that stare through the window glass and 
 over the mass of articles therein displayed, as people 
 have a way of feeling a stare; and looking up, she 
 smiled upon the handsome gentleman whose gaze 
 was riveted upon her. She was no more like unto 
 Iris than the cinnamon-pink to the Ascension lily;
 
 230 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 nor was she at all pretty. But Sam obeyed a sudden 
 impulse and entered the tiny shop, followed by Mr. 
 Jones. 
 
 Together they stood before the little counter upon 
 which were piled coarse stockings, underwear with 
 cheap lace trimming, unsubstantial neckwear, boxes 
 of ruching, gingham aprons, bandannas (printed on 
 one side only) and the headless, armless, stock- 
 inet torso of an extraordinary figure, presumably 
 female, upon which was laced a purple satin corset. 
 Overhead, petticoats of bengaline and sateen waists 
 hung like banners at a festival, and neckties, alter- 
 nating with balls of wool and mending cotton, fes- 
 tooned the edges of the shelves. A case of many- 
 colored spool-silks, like a brilliant treasure-chest, 
 and made up of shallow drawers such as gems are 
 kept in, formed the background against which the 
 shop-girl stood as she greeted him, while before her 
 was the only unoccupied part of the counter a 
 twelve-inch square of painted wood upon which 
 the tips of her long freckled fingers rested. She 
 stood there, saying nothing, but smiling. What 
 should he ask for? It was awkward, decidedly. 
 Yet here he was, and somehow or other the situation
 
 SUNDRY ADVENTURES 231 
 
 must be managed. Very vaguely he uttered what 
 seemed to him an inanity. 
 
 "I I would like some buttonholes," he stam- 
 mered, and then blushed furiously at having said 
 such nonsense. 
 
 But the young lady seemed in nowise disconcerted 
 by the extraordinary request. 
 
 "White or black ?" she inquired calmly. 
 
 "Eh?" said Hill incredulously. 
 
 "I said, did you wish white or black button- 
 holes?" she smiled. 
 
 "But but, great Scott! you don't mean to say 
 you actually have 'em?" gasped Sam. 
 
 "Of course. This is a notion-shop; didn't you 
 read the sign?" 
 
 "Notion-shop! I should say it was! How the 
 deuce can a hole have a color? Is that one of the 
 notions?" said he. 
 
 "I thought you didn't really want them," said the 
 girl, "but we do keep 'em embroidered on strips, 
 you know, of black or white stuff and you sew 
 'em in !" 
 
 "Oh!" said the enlightened male, "would you 
 really not mind if I don't have any, though? I
 
 232 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 don't really need them. You see, you smiled, so I 
 just ..." 
 
 "So I guessed," said the girl, "but it ain't any use. 
 I'm engaged." 
 
 "Ah !" said Hill, suddenly relieved of the absurd 
 situation which he had brought upon himself. Then 
 he added gallantly, "You don't expect me to be 
 surprised, do you? He is such a very lucky fellow!" 
 
 "He is a rover," she said plaintively. 
 
 "A what?" queried Hill politely. 
 
 "A wanderer on the face of the earth," she eluci- 
 dated. "He is in the lunch-wagon business, and not 
 havin' a regular stand, it takes him to distant parts 
 a lot. You seem to be the sort that travels, too," she 
 added, "you an' the bear. Ain't he the cute little 
 feller!" 
 
 Hill gave a huge sigh, and looked at her senti- 
 mentally. 
 
 "I wish you would say as much to me," he told 
 her sweetly, and then felt almost as much of an ass 
 as he looked. 
 
 But the lady spurned him with the air of a trag- 
 edy queen. 
 
 "You shouldn't ought to say such things," said
 
 SUNDRY ADVENTURES 233 
 
 she loftily. "No matter what chances offer, I am 
 ever true to Mr. Lovejoy." 
 
 The plain little lady's charms were so few (be- 
 yond the color of her hair) that Hill thought the 
 dangers that awaited her at the hands of adoring 
 swains were probably non est. But this conception 
 seemed so at variance with her attitude, that he 
 played up, and leaning over the counter in an atti- 
 tude of intense admiration, said aloud that her 
 temptations must be many. 
 
 "Mr. Lovejoy takes a great risk in being away so 
 much," he added; "some day he will return to find 
 that you have been stolen, kidnaped, Miss, 
 Miss . . 
 
 "Call me Lola," said she; "my name is Lizzy 
 Hinkle, but I like Lola La Farge better. I read it 
 in a book." 
 
 "Miss La Farge, you are a wonder," said Hill 
 sincerely. "When is the doughty lunch-wagoner 
 going to marry you ?" 
 
 "Soon's he can get the money," she confided to 
 him. 
 
 "And shall you join him in his roving life, when 
 that happy day arrives?" asked Hill.
 
 234 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 "Yes!" she sighed. "It must be lovely to travel. 
 I got this from him, recent. You see it's posted clear 
 over in Jersey. And this one is from Yonkers. How 
 I shall enjoy seeing the world !" 
 
 She gave two picture postal cards into his hand. 
 They were warm and somewhat crumpled from be- 
 ing carried inside her pink shirt-waist, and had evi- 
 dently been read to shabbiness. He took them, be- 
 lieving her to be joking on the question of journeys, 
 but her earnest face betrayed the truth. Her lover's 
 wanderings were, to her mind, travel. Hill exam- 
 ined the bits of pasteboard carefully in order to 
 gain time in which to compose his expression. One 
 of them bore a view of the Grand Hotel, Newark, 
 in colors never yet seen upon a building made by 
 hands; the other had the legend "I am thinking of 
 you" printed upon it in red ink. 
 
 "Have you never traveled at all?" he asked as 
 soon as he dared to raise his eyes. 
 
 "Oh! yes!" she answered. "I've been to Coney 
 Island twice. But I've never been up-town. And 
 I've always wanted to see Harlem, too. I've heard 
 such a lot about it." 
 
 "Surely you're kidding me?" he asked. 
 
 "No, I ain't!" she disclaimed. "I was born right
 
 SUNDRY ADVENTURES 235 
 
 around on Eighth Avenue, and I know more'n one 
 that's been away less than me. And my ma is terri- 
 ble strict, too. She's never let me go nowhere. Be- 
 sides, there's the shop. I've been minding that ever 
 since I left school." 
 
 "I don't wonder you want to get away!" ex- 
 claimed Sam. 
 
 "When I can go honest!" she added. "But mean- 
 while I do love to get picture-postals ! It's next best 
 to goin' yourself. I think this hotel must be swell, 
 don't you? Round here there ain't so much color, 
 is there?" 
 
 She held up the lithograph horror admiringly. 
 
 "No, not so much color," assented Hill; "and I'm 
 afraid that even if one went all the way to Newark, 
 one would find there post-cards depicting yet more 
 distant spots which would seem more colored than 
 the surroundings of this wonderful hotel. But such 
 is life! However, may I send you a postal or two 
 if I happen to wander to some far-off place say 
 Bronxville, for instance or would Mr. Lovejoy 
 object?" 
 
 "Oh! that would be grand!" said Lola, the 
 freckled. "Thank you awfully, Mr. . . . What 
 was the name?"
 
 236 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 "Hill," said Sam, who usually answered so impul- 
 sively that he seldom remembered to lie. 
 
 "Mr. Hill, you are real kind," she beamed. "Mr. 
 Lovejoy, he won't have no objections, I guess. Any- 
 way, he won't know." 
 
 Though not pretty, she was a sweet little thing. 
 
 "True," said Hill. "There are many simple in- 
 nocent occurrences that don't hurt us if we don't 
 know about them. For instance, Mr. Lovejoy 
 couldn't object because he wouldn't know if I 
 . . . hum!" 
 
 Here Hill leaned very far over the counter, and 
 Lola leaned very far toward him, doubtless to dis- 
 cover what he was referring to, which she quickly 
 did, for he kissed her lightly upon the lips. 
 
 Then he turned, and went out, hurriedly, much 
 astonished at himself and leaving Miss Lola La 
 Farge alias Lizzy Hinkle, equally astounded, 
 though not so much at what had happened, as at her 
 own lack of any proper distress and regret. . . . 
 A harmless, unaccountable little incident it was, one 
 of the things that somehow do manage to happen, 
 and leave us surprised, perhaps, but none the worse, 
 and, as a matter of fact, none the less faithful than 
 before.
 
 SUNDRY ADVENTURES 237 
 
 So Lola tucked her post-cards into the bosom of 
 her pink shirt-waist, straightened her ruffled red 
 hair, and put away the buttonholes. After all, one 
 does not need to have been to Harlem to be edu- 
 cated. . . . 
 
 As for Hill, he wandered off toward the river. 
 
 When noon came, he stopped at a dairy, and ob- 
 taining milk and doughnuts, sat down (by permis- 
 sion of the proprietor) upon the door-sill of that 
 exit which led into the back yard, and the two men 
 fell into conversation. For a while the talk was de- 
 sultory, for customers came and went, but at length, 
 this being the slack hour, they talked more consecu- 
 tively and, falling upon the tariff, became absorbed. 
 Suddenly there came a crash from the shop behind 
 them, and they rushed in, just quickly enough to see 
 Mr. Jones, who had overturned the protecting glass 
 case, waddling off into the street, his paws filled 
 with comb-honey which he had stolen from the 
 counter. 
 
 "Stop, thief !" yelled the dairyman. 
 
 "Shut up! you'll collect a crowd!" yelled Hill. 
 "Here, Jonesy! Here, Jonesy! come back, you vil- 
 lain, sir!"
 
 238 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 "Hi! stop him, stop him!" shouted the dairyman, 
 dancing upon the door-sill, but making no effort to 
 run after and interfere with Mr. Jones. Already the 
 neighborhood was beginning to take notice, and a 
 little band had gathered interestedly about the shop, 
 while half-way down the block a second group was 
 following the sedate progress of the bear; maintain- 
 ing a respectful distance, the while. 
 
 "Keep quiet! Cut it out!" said Hill to the dairy- 
 man roughly. "Here's all the money I've got. I'm 
 sorry the case got smashed, but arresting me won't 
 do a bit of good. I'll send you more money later." 
 
 With which he rushed out after his animal, leav- 
 ing the little milk-seller still dancing for rage upon 
 the door-sill, his white apron fluttering in the wind. 
 
 At the street corner sat Mr. Jones, busily engaged 
 in consuming his stolen sweets. With great difficulty 
 he was persuaded to part with some of the remain- 
 der, which a watchful urchin instantly seized upon 
 and ran off with, followed by most of the little 
 crowd ; and the bear, dropping upon all fours, sub- 
 mitted to being chained to his master, and off they 
 went toward the river, leaving a sticky trail upon 
 the pavements as they passed. 
 
 Over the housetops the gray clouds of commerce
 
 SUNDRY ADVENTURES 239 
 
 were flying to the unsullied heavens. Where, oh! 
 where was a wide horizon-line? He turned up-town. 
 All his money was gone again, and more he must 
 have before returning to the tenement where Old 
 Nita lay ill. A gradual progress brought him to 
 Riverside Drive, and he had by then collected over 
 a dollar. That was very little. Perhaps the chil- 
 dren of the rich would pay. 
 
 Along the steep embankment he paraded his bear, 
 and drew crowd after crowd of laughing young- 
 sters, but the returns were small. A ferry-boat scut- 
 tled into dock, and the asphalt walk bringing him, 
 on an abrupt turn, to the landing's very gate, he 
 followed an impulse (and the bear) and stepped 
 aboard. 
 
 "I shall go to Jersey City," said he, "and buy a 
 postal card." 
 
 It proved a profitable trip, for the passengers 
 gathered about Mr. Jones delightedly, and when the 
 hat was passed (the bear did it) another dollar had 
 been gained. Then the farther shore was reached, 
 and the painter scrambled up the steep roadway to 
 the top of the cliffs. 
 
 "Now that I have done my duty," said he to Mr. 
 Jones, "I shall loaf; I must loaf. I must think of her
 
 240 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 uninterruptedly for a while. You know whom I 
 mean, Mr. Jones : I'll leave her unnamed, as should 
 be the case between gentlemen, but you will under- 
 stand. I simply must have breathing space in which 
 to think of her, and look at a wide expanse of sky. 
 We shall walk along these cliffs until we are weary. 
 Then we shall wander down toward the evil metrop- 
 olis and take a ferry that will bring us out near 
 home." 
 
 Mr. Jones grunted in reply, and they set off. 
 
 And so it came about that, what with one thing 
 and another, Hill remained in Jersey until night 
 fell, ate his supper from a crowded lunch-wagon 
 near the docks, and afterward gave the wagon itself 
 a minute and critical examination. The result of 
 this last was, that as soon as he had done, he went 
 to the nearest news-stand. Here he bought a post- 
 card upon which was depicted a pea-green likeness 
 of the local soldiers' monument, and wrote in the 
 space for correspondence "I had supper to-night 
 with Mr. Lovejoy. His wagon is superb, and at the 
 present rate of the business he has, I shall expect a 
 wedding invitation inside a month." Then he 
 signed his own name, appended the Jones Street 
 address, and posted it. Then, much exhilarated by
 
 SUNDRY ADVENTURES 241 
 
 his "long thought" of Iris, and the piquant coinci- 
 dence that had befallen him, he determined to 
 turn the night to profit, and set to work among the 
 river-front resorts. 
 
 At midnight the Jersey shipyards are very still, 
 and down toward where the docks are fewer, and 
 farther apart, it is quiet indeed, once darkness has 
 fallen. Here and there one hears the baying of 
 humanity (so called) belching out from the swing- 
 ing doorway of some low-ceilinged, evil-lighted 
 den, the resort of poverty and brute strength, where 
 the enormous energies engendered by outdoor 
 work, find vent under the name of recreation. 
 Against the outer darkness loom masses yet more 
 dark, and sometimes a crimson light, like a dull 
 jewel, smokes at the crest of these, when the inde- 
 finable bulk is a ship. The giant machinery of coal- 
 yards and gas-tanks are but shadows upon the 
 shades of night at this hour, their strength a hypo- 
 thetical thing that you allow or ignore at will. 
 Long spaces of cobbled irregular paving stretch 
 away dimly, their darkness rendered deeper rather 
 than relieved by the infrequent lamps. Again, at 
 wide intervals, a flaring light illumines a throng of
 
 242 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY. 
 
 toilers, who, like the distorted creatures of a dream, 
 rush about in methodical disorder, accomplishing 
 the loading of some vessel that must sail at dawn. 
 From the gaping mouth of such a hold, comes a 
 stream of fire and a roar as of a prehistoric mon- 
 ster, where the rumbling trucks rush in and out. 
 Then again the water-side stretches on in mystery, 
 in darkness and silence. But whichever lies before 
 one, the darkness or the inferno of light and noise, 
 it is a wonderful picture; one to arrest the observer 
 with its vast suggestive quality and arouse the de- 
 sire to linger and watch. 
 
 Hill thought of this when he came out from one 
 of the low saloons into the tingling cold of night, 
 and saw the strange panorama that melted away on 
 either hand. Mr. Jones did not agree that the ship- 
 ping was of any interest whatsoever; he infinitely 
 preferred the warmth and gaiety of the close little 
 cabaret they left behind them. But Hill felt other- 
 wise, and, being the more intelligent, had his way, 
 and they walked slowly and scrutinizingly in the 
 general direction of the down-town ferry. 
 
 Presently they reached a small covered dock 
 where a greenish light was burning, in the glow of 
 which some score of men were at work, loading
 
 SUNDRY ADVENTURES 243 
 
 great cases into the hold of a small third- or fourth- 
 rate steamer. Although the scene was less flam- 
 boyant than several that they had passed, Hill was 
 interested by the color of the light, and the manner 
 in which it fell upon the group whose labor it illu- 
 minated : and so, unobserved by the watchman, he 
 walked out to a dim sheltered corner of the pier, 
 and stood quite still, making mental notes of the 
 scene before him. 
 
 There seemed to be curiously little disorder or 
 excitement in connection with this embarkment, a 
 fact which soon impressed itself upon Hill's mind. 
 Nor did the men appear to be in any particular 
 hurry. Then a question obtruded itself. If they 
 were not rushed, why did they work so late at 
 night? It was rather odd. The cargo was odd, too. 
 From the size,, shape, and weight of the wooden 
 cases of which it principally consisted, the shipment 
 was evidently composed of pianos. Where on earth 
 could so many pianos be going to? With a little ef- 
 fort he remembered the sign at the entrance to the 
 dock "The Venezuela Fruit Steamship Co." Ah I 
 that accounted for it! Of course, it was only rea- 
 sonable to suppose that Venezuela turned out very 
 few pianos, if any. How quaint, though! He be-
 
 244 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 gan to muse upon the melodious consignment, and, 
 therefore, to observe the cases more closely. How 
 odd that they should be put aboard at night ! Then 
 another thought flashed through his mind. Had he 
 not read, or seen advertised somewhere, that these 
 steamers sailed only bi-weekly? And this being a 
 Monday, they would not sail before Wednesday. 
 Why choose such an hour for loading them? How 
 beastly uncomfortable, how unnecessary! 
 
 A man who had been directing the work, his back 
 toward Hill, now turned about so that the light 
 shone full upon his face, and at the sight of it Sam 
 gave an involuntary cry of recognition, which, how- 
 ever, was lost in the general noise. It was Rowe! 
 His tenant! Confound the man, there was some- 
 thing mysterious about him! What was he doing 
 here, and at such an hour? The memory of their 
 last meeting, and of Old Nita, came to him in a 
 flash, and his hands clenched ominously. Here, per- 
 haps, was a chance for retaliation ! But before he 
 could act on the impulse, several things happened 
 all at once. 
 
 A piano-case, which was being lowered from a 
 truck, was allowed to drop in such a way that it split
 
 SUNDRY ADVENTURES 245 
 
 open. From the aperture several objects fell out 
 upon the pier. They were rifles! Field-rifles, new 
 and shining! 
 
 With a snort of amazement Sam sprang for- 
 ward, and at that same instant he felt himself seized 
 upon either shoulder. Looking around, he saw that 
 he was captive between two huge longshoremen, 
 who proceeded to propel him toward the ship. As 
 they came up with Rowe, who was cursing roundly, 
 but had already managed to get the rifles out of 
 sight, one of the ruffians called out: "Here's a de- 
 tective, mister, disguised as a dago. We caught him 
 spying just before the case broke." 
 
 With an oath, Rowe whipped around, and for a 
 moment the two men stood glaring at each other. 
 
 "Take him aboard," said Rowe, breathing hard. 
 "Captain's room, I'll be there directly." 
 
 "What the devil ..." began Hill furiously. 
 But he was cut short by Rowe, who struck him 
 across the mouth. 
 
 Dazed by this needless insult, and wholly unable 
 to retaliate because of his captors, Sam suffered 
 himself to be led aboard, his custodians still holding 
 him fast No sooner was this done, and the door
 
 246 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 shut upon them, than it was opened again t> admit 
 Rowe, who was followed by a dark little Sp miard, 
 presumably one of the ship's officers. 
 
 "Sit down," commanded Rowe, locking the door. 
 
 Hill paid no attention, standing speechless with 
 rage. Rowe drew a revolver from his hip pocket, 
 pulled up an armchair to one side of the tatie, and 
 pointed to a second seat, which was placed <, pposite. 
 He indicated the chair with the muzzU of his 
 weapon. 
 
 "Sit down," he repeated politely. 
 
 Hill sat. 
 
 "Now, my dear mysterious landlord,' began 
 Rowe, "I have at last discovered your real t/ade. I 
 always thought you were a rotten painter, but I 
 never dreamed that you were a detective a spy !" 
 
 "But I'm not!" exploded Hill, vainly endeavoring 
 to appear calm. "Let me explain. I'm not watch- 
 ing . . ." 
 
 "Pardon me!" said Rowe. "Our last meeting, 
 taken in connection with this one, explains the situ- 
 ation far more fully than any words of yours are 
 likely to do. You are a government spy, and I sup- 
 pose you are chortling at having caught us 'with 
 the goods' as you Americans say."
 
 SUNDRY ADVENTURES 247 
 
 "I haven't caught you at anything, so far as I 
 know, except striking a tottering old woman!" re- 
 sponded Hill. "And, by God! I'm going to make 
 you smart for that! As for being a secret-service 
 man you are all wrong, there!" 
 
 "Paugh !" exclaimed Rowe, flushing angrily, 
 "what's the use of bluffing? Why don't you make 
 a show of arresting us?" 
 
 "Look here!" exclaimed Hill, restrained from as- 
 saulting the man only by the sight of the gun that 
 the other was still caressing. "Look here, you can't 
 keep me like this, you know ! I'm not a detective, 
 and I don't even know what the devil you are mak- 
 ing all this fuss about." 
 
 At this all the other men shouted with laughter. 
 Rowe leaned over the table, an evil leer on his cun- 
 ning face. 
 
 "No detective ! ha ! ha !" said he. "You don't re- 
 ally expect us to swallow that, do you ? Why, next 
 thing you'll be telling us that you didn't know it 
 was contraband to take arms out of the country, eh ?" 
 
 Hill sat back, shocked into momentary silence 
 
 "I did not know it," he said simply. 
 
 The quiet that followed these five clear-cut 
 ivords was charged with electricity. Then, Rowe,
 
 248 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 his face very white, his eyes fixed upon Hill, rose to 
 his feet. 
 
 "By God ! I believe you are speaking the truth !" 
 he said at length. 
 
 "That's one joke on you, Ricardo," said the little 
 Spanish officer with a short mirthless laugh. 
 
 "Well, he knows it now, if he didn't before !" put 
 in one of the longshoremen. 
 
 Hill said nothing at all, but sat staring at the 
 group in wonderment. What on earth did it all 
 mean? 
 
 "That's true. You needn't inform me of it," said 
 Rowe bitterly, "and detective or not, he'll inform 
 now if we let him go. But he's a service man, all 
 right," he added, his confidence in himself return- 
 ing. "Wasn't he up at Mikey's? Hell! something 
 must be done with him ; and something will be done, 
 never fear ! I will get the Senor Chief, and he shall 
 help us decide the matter." 
 
 The little officer nodded, and Rowe, slipping out 
 of the cabin, closed the door behind him. In silence 
 they waited, while a thousand conjectures whirled 
 through Hill's brain. What had he stumbled upon? 
 In exactly what nefarious business were these men 
 engaged ? Could he trick them into letting him go ?
 
 SUNDRY ADVENTURES 249 
 
 What would they do to him? Suddenly he missed 
 the bear. What had become of Mr. Jones? Doubt- 
 less the poor beast would be hopelessly lost. . . . 
 In a moment more, footsteps were heard outside 
 in the passage. The door handle grated, and Hill, 
 bracing himself for whatever was to come, swung 
 about and found himself face to face with Iris' 
 father, the Honorable Reginald Vanderpool Mil- 
 lionaire Asphalt King.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 A COMPROMISE 
 
 THE day on which Iris came to Pedro's studio 
 for her second pose was not that which had 
 been appointed, but one nearly a week later. Dur- 
 ing the intervening period the young painter had 
 remained locked in the studio as long as daylight 
 lasted, emerging only at night, in company with 
 Leigh. 
 
 Pedro had given her no explanation for putting 
 her off, simply sending word that he could not have 
 her at present, but would get some work done on the 
 background of the portrait. To Leigh he had made 
 no reference to the sudden depression that had 
 settled upon him like a pall, and Leigh bided the 
 time when Pedro would confide in him. It is to be 
 noted that this great test of congeniality was suc- 
 cessful, putting the final link to their bond of friend- 
 ship; for the trouble, although untold, drew them 
 closer, instead of creating a breach between them. 
 . . . Incidentally, this was an excellent moment 
 
 250
 
 A COMPROMISE 251 
 
 for such a mood to have come upon the youth, for 
 the two were arranging for a little exhibition, and it 
 gave them ample opportunity to avoid personalities. 
 They were giving the "two-man's-show" partially 
 to please themselves, partially because Theodore 
 Pell's unconscious boost through the Associated 
 Press was bringing about results, and the time 
 seemed ripe. 
 
 Iris had telephoned several futile invitations, and 
 at last, catching Pedro on the wire, had arranged 
 for a sitting. At the hour appointed, she mounted 
 the stairs slowly, with fast-beating heart, starting 
 and trembling at every sound within the ancient 
 building. What if Cassie should see her? For, not- 
 withstanding her resolves to the contrary, Iris had 
 again come alone ! These last few days, when she 
 had been unable to see Pedro, had but added fuel to 
 the flame she already burned at his shrine, and it 
 had come to such a pass that she felt it almost a ne- 
 cessity to her continued existence to be with him 
 alone with him in that exciting atmosphere which 
 his personality created, and to which she was not as 
 yet conscious of contributing largely herself. That 
 he always appeared unconscious of this electrical at- 
 mosphere, mattered not at all. Whether he wished
 
 252 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY, 
 
 it or not, she must see him, must be with him, at 
 whatever cost to her pride or vanity. 
 
 She reached the door unchallenged, and rapped 
 upon it. 
 
 "Lady! Most gracious Madonna!" he cried in 
 greeting. "See, here is the blue robe quick, 
 quick ! I am all impatience to begin. Do you know 
 the good tidings? Of the ridiculously audacious 
 thing I am going to do? Exhibit my pictures! Yes! 
 me. Pedro! Ha! ha! I am not unknown, it seems ! 
 Read the newspapers. I am Pedro, the great Span- 
 ish artist ! I do not know how to paint, but it mat- 
 ters not: they will say 'an impressionist Matisse 
 outdone !' Ah ! ha ! your portrait will be the chief 
 gem of the display. In two weeks comes the exhibi- 
 tion, so I must finish it soon, soon !" 
 
 "Where are all the canvases?" asked Iris, looking 
 about her. "There were simply shoals, and now 
 
 "Leigh has taken most of them," he laughed, 
 "some to be framed for the show, and some for him- 
 self. And De Bush, he has two. I am rather fright- 
 ened at my sudden fame. I have already orders 
 for two cover designs for magazines. And Leigh 
 made me say two hundred dollars each, no less!
 
 A COMPROMISE 253 
 
 Wait, wait! I must tell you the most funny part of 
 all they are going to pay it!" 
 
 "You seem surprised," replied Iris, who, it must 
 be remembered, had no reason for doubting the 
 newspaper story which was the gage of Pedro's po- 
 sition that she had decided to accept. 
 
 "Surprised?" said he, with a lift of the eyebrows. 
 "Tut, tut! Of course not! Am I not Pedro, the 
 great Spanish artist ?" 
 
 Whereupon he burst into a gale of laughter, and 
 set about arranging the light. 
 
 Iris slipped into her blue robe, slightly puzzled 
 by his wild mood, but rinding it charming none the 
 less. How far removed from her he always seemed ! 
 Here she had come full of sentiment, of personal in- 
 terest, and he met her with a gaiety and an imper- 
 sonal enthusiasm that were only for the model which 
 would enable him to continue work on his picture. 
 
 During the first part of the pose, he, contrary to 
 his usual habit, talked rapidly. 
 
 "It will be a lovely exhibition!" said he, "there 
 will be Leigh's stuff beautiful marbles, rich in 
 form, and with such textures and high lights. You 
 know ! And the virginal white bas-reliefs the joy-
 
 254 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 ous one of the ladies dancing what a difference it 
 makes which way one says it. 'Ladies dancing/ or 
 'dancing-ladies' English, eh? And there will be 
 his group with the lions, and the fountain that he 
 did for H. G. Ball. The General Grant, too the 
 equestrian a small cast of it. That is for the center 
 of the gallery. And around the walls, between these 
 things will hang many gorgeous paintings by that 
 great Spanish painter myself." 
 
 Iris could not but laugh with him. 
 
 "And of all these fine pictures," he continued, 
 "the most lovely will be a Madonna with hair that 
 is red-gold, like joy ! Calmly she will gaze down 
 upon the vacant room. Then the exhibition will open. 
 Oh ! the anxious hearts of that great sculptor and 
 that noted painter! Pretty soon, in will come two 
 girl art students and one newspaper reporter. The 
 reporter will not look at the pictures or the sculp- 
 ture; he will take a catalogue from the little stand 
 by the door, and as he goes out again he will say to 
 the young man in charge, 'Are they any good?' 
 and the young man will reply, 'They must be : they 
 have already paid for the use of the gallery/ by 
 which, perhaps, the reporter will be influenced and 
 write a favorable criticism accordingly. The two
 
 A COMPROMISE 255 
 
 art students will run around quickly, saying 'rot- 
 ten, rotten !' peck at everything, and go out still 
 saying 'rotten, rotten !' Then, some one who is 
 tired will wander in, because there is a bench to sit 
 down upon. Then more students, who will say 'rot- 
 ten', and go out. If it rains, it will be much better. 
 Probably many will go in if it rains it is a free 
 shelter and afterward, they will say at dinner par- 
 ties: 'Have you been to the exhibition at Mason's? 
 I dropped in the other day. Very poor, very poor!' 
 and feel themselves art patrons, even as they say it! 
 I hope it rains. It is thus that one becomes famous." 
 
 "Pessimist !" she accused him. 
 
 "Merely contemptuous," he assured her. Then 
 there was silence and he worked fiercely, cruelly, for, 
 as usual, he forgot the rests, and it grew late before 
 either spoke. 
 
 At last, exhausted by the long pose, by his indif- 
 ference, by her own emotions, she could bear it no 
 longer, but holding out her arms toward him, she 
 swayed slightly, and said his name in a broken voice. 
 
 "Pedro!" 
 
 Then he saw how white and drawn her face had 
 become, and with a little cry he dropped his palette 
 and sprang to her side.
 
 256 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 "Madonna!" he said, "forgive me! Come down! 
 So ! Let me help you. Lie here upon this couch. 
 Oh ! I am cruel and thoughtless !" 
 
 Whimpering a little, she clung to his arm, burying 
 her face in the crotch of his elbow, fondling his 
 hand. 
 
 "Pedro, Pedro, I am so tired!" she said over and 
 over again. 
 
 Distressed, he tried to sooth her, stroking her hair, 
 adjusting the sofa pillows with a surprising deftness, 
 and accusing himself bitterly. Then he gently disen- 
 gaged his arm and made her lie down. 
 
 "I know ! A little sherry !" he exclaimed. "A bite 
 of luncheon ! You will see now what a splendid 
 housewife I can really be, at need. We will have a 
 charming meal directly." 
 
 He poured wine into an antique Venetian glass, 
 and brought it to her, clasping both her hands about 
 the fragile thing as one would clasp a child's un- 
 trained fingers around a precious toy. 
 
 "Drink!" he commanded, "and lie quite still with 
 your lovely head among the caressing pillows. You 
 are an Eastern Queen now, and I your humble serv- 
 ing-slave. See ! Like magic the feast shall appear !" 
 
 With an encouraging laugh, he twisted a bit of
 
 A COMPROMISE 257 
 
 crimson silk about his head for a turban, and 
 salaamed before her. 
 
 All this was not what Iris had wanted when she 
 held out her hands with that piteous little cry; but 
 beggars must take what they can get, and so she 
 lay obediently among the cushions, a faint color 
 coming back to her cheeks, a tremulous smile play- 
 ing about her lips, and in her eyes, all the love and 
 longing which Pedro would or could not see. 
 
 Meanwhile, he drew up a little round table before 
 the hearth, stirred the dying embers with fresh 
 wood, threw an Arabian cloth over the table and 
 proceeded to lay the feast. 
 
 "Foigras behold!" he said, with a flourish as he 
 placed it before her. "Knives, one fork. Ah! lovely 
 plates from Dresden, and biscuits from London. 
 Sardines, too. I saw such as these caught in blue 
 water ah, so blue! and they flashed and glittered 
 in the nets like captive quicksilver ! Here are grapes 
 your own gift to me. In this magic urn I will 
 make coffee a la turc. And do you know this cordial? 
 'Forbidden fruit' it is called. And cigarettes of 
 Russia with little paper holders growing on the 
 ends! The nations serve you, oh, queen!" 
 
 She sat up and allowed him to feed her. The soli-
 
 258 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY, 
 
 tary fork gave them much cause for mirth, for she 
 insisted that they share it, and before the meal was 
 finished they were playing like children. 
 
 Pedro's moods were generally irresistible, and he 
 
 t 
 
 was determined that she forget and forgive his 
 thoughtlessness. As he sat opposite, seeing her 
 cameo-like beauty, he thought for the hundredth 
 time that Hill had chosen well. Small wonder that 
 the latter had been driven to despair by her ! And 
 she did she still care for the absent painter? She 
 seldom spoke of him, and that argued well for Hill's 
 cause. And what had parted these two? Some silly, 
 silly quarrel, he again assured himself. How well 
 matched they were, how admirably suited to each 
 other! But how about the girl's attitude toward 
 himself . . . ? A subtle smile crept to the corners 
 of his mouth at the thought, and he hastily took his 
 eyes from her face, looking intently at the glowing 
 cigarette between his fingers instead. 
 
 "What is the matter?" she asked. "A second ago 
 you were merry. Now you look quiet, wise dan- 
 gerous! How you change !" 
 
 "Dangerous! Far from it!" he exclaimed, push- 
 ing back his chair, "that is, unless you call over- 
 whelming curiosity dangerous. Personally I think
 
 A COMPROMISE 259 
 
 it less dangerous than a lack of curiosity; to the in- 
 dividual, at least." 
 
 "And what makes you curious?" she asked. 
 
 "You would think me impertinent." 
 
 "Never!" said she with such vehemence that he 
 looked up in surprise. 
 
 "Yes, you would," he said. 
 
 "Try me !" she begged. 
 
 Then Pedro, who did not know how to lead gently 
 up to any subject, plunged in. 
 
 "Were you engaged to Hill?" he asked abruptly. 
 
 Without answering, she arose and walked away 
 to the window, where she stood for several moments 
 before replying, her back turned. 
 
 "Yes," she said at last. 
 
 "And do you still care for him?" 
 
 To her own intense surprise she found that she 
 could not reply at once. 
 
 "I beg your pardon, Madonna," said Pedro softly. 
 
 "Oh! you don't understand!" she cried wildly, 
 throwing out her hands. "I don't care, I hate oh! 
 why did you ask me?" 
 
 "I think I do understand," he said very distinctly, 
 looking straight at her. 
 
 A wave of crimson flooded her cheeks. What did
 
 26o 
 
 he mean? Unable to face him longer, she buried her 
 face in her hands. He came toward her and stood 
 where he could have touched her. One hand was in 
 his pocket, the other held his glass of cordial, the 
 "forbidden fruit", and that subtle smile played about 
 his mouth and eyes, as though he were at once sad 
 and amused. 
 
 "Sam Hill is a great soul," said he softly. "He is 
 generous and good. He is talented, he is . . . " 
 
 "He is nothing to me!" she gasped, looking up. 
 
 "He is my friend," finished Pedro firmly. 
 
 She flung her arms wide, and turned to him with 
 an appealing gesture, her face revealing an emotion 
 she made no attempt to conceal, nor he to ignore. 
 
 "Pedro !" she began passionately, "you will think 
 me mad for saying it, but ah ! I can not help it 
 you make me! Pedro, I love ..." 
 
 There was a crash as his liqueur-glass fell to the 
 floor. 
 
 "Hush!" said he. 
 
 "What is it?" she asked, for the moment startled 
 into normality. 
 
 "Nothing!" said he, "only that you are not to 
 finish your sentence. Never mind the glass, it was 
 done intentionally. Let us talk of other things."
 
 A COMPROMISE 261 
 
 "But, Pedro," she said hysterically, "I can not! I 
 am possessed! How can you be so cruel?" 
 
 "Please, please!" he begged her. "Madonna, I am 
 abject; I am in torture! Have pity!" 
 
 "It is akin to pity," she replied. 
 
 There was silence. Outside, upon the snow-filled 
 ledges the sparrows squabbled noisily, and from the 
 street came the sound of a barrel-organ playing an 
 aria from a defunct Italian opera. 
 
 Pedro walked to the hearth and stooped to mend 
 the fire. Then he straightened up and spoke. 
 
 "Impossible!" he said quietly. "Utterly impos- 
 sible." 
 
 And she, watching him intently, knew he had be- 
 lieved her, although he presented this denial. She 
 felt, too, that her cause was nearly hopeless. 
 
 "You do not care, then," she said in a low voice. 
 
 "Madonna Lady," he said sadly, "I care for you 
 a great deal, but not as Hill does; not as a man 
 should, to be your lover. You charm me beyond 
 words ; you are lovely as a dream, and if I could love 
 any woman, it would be you but, you are not for 
 me." 
 
 "Why not?" she asked sharply, between her tor- 
 tured breaths.
 
 262 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 "The reason is beyond my power to alter," said 
 Pedro. 
 
 "Then," said she, "I suppose I had better go. 
 Shall you wish to finish the picture ?" 
 
 "Iris!" he cried in a suddenly changed tone, 
 "come here, listen ! Of course, I want to finish the 
 picture; it is going to be good! And what is more, 
 if you will be so gracious, with your permission we 
 will finish it, and renew our friendship at the same 
 time." 
 
 "Friendship !" said she, with a mirthless little 
 laugh. 
 
 He threw back his head proudly. 
 
 "We are not of the common herd," said he. "And 
 we can do things which weak persons are unable to 
 accomplish! Surely we are bigger than the circum- 
 stances in which we are placed. At least, we can be- 
 come so if we will." 
 
 "Become friends ?" she asked. 
 
 "Certainly!" said he. "For us that is perfectly 
 possible. For the ordinary man and woman, no ! I 
 grant you it would be too hard. But for us! Ah ! 
 that is quite a different matter, I assure you !" 
 
 There was a pause, during which she hesitated, 
 biting her lip.
 
 A COMPROMISE 263 
 
 "Very well," said she in a resigned voice. But 
 inwardly she was resolved far otherwise. He rec- 
 ognized this, but the situation had lasted long 
 enough. 
 
 "Come!" he cried, with an attempt at putting the 
 incident behind them, "I must talk to you about 
 something very important. You asked me to help 
 you find out who was troubling your father." 
 
 "Yes," she assented, without much interest, how- 
 ever. 
 
 "Well," said he slowly, "I am most distressingly 
 placed, Madonna. I am almost certain that he is 
 being either blackmailed or misled in some manner, 
 and yet my hands are absolutely tied. I can do 
 nothing." 
 
 "What do you mean ?" she demanded, aroused. 
 
 "I seem fated to be a man of mystery," he la- 
 mented, "but I can not help it! I have ascertained 
 that a man of doubtful character is in communica- 
 tion with your father ; that much I learned last week. 
 But at the instant of my discovery of this fact, a cir- 
 cumstance arose that makes it impossible for me 
 to continue as your detective. More than this I can 
 not say. But you will have to find some one else to 
 help you."
 
 264 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 Iris was turning the matter over in her mind very 
 rapidly. Did Pedro really not care for her? 
 Hardly! Why he said such things . . . He had 
 followed her from the country ! Had he not begged 
 to paint her, and paid her such compliments as no 
 one yet had done? That night at the Milligans came 
 back with a rush of memory. Ah ! he had surely 
 cared then ! What had since occurred to change 
 him? Samuel Hill! That was it! He had learned 
 of her former attachment, and meant at all costs to 
 be loyal to the man who had befriended him. It is 
 not easy to believe that one's love meets with no re- 
 turn, and this theory fitted her need very nicely. 
 And now, she decided, that he might the more easily 
 maintain his resolution of loyalty, Pedro was de- 
 termined to cut off that claim to intimacy incident to 
 the investigation of her father's trouble. But he 
 should not do so. No ! a thousand times no ! Some- 
 thing must be done to make him see, quite clearly 
 and unmistakably, that his sacrifice to Hill's trust 
 of him was a vain and useless thing. But how was 
 this to be accomplished? Meanwhile, Pedro was still 
 talking. 
 
 "I say with regret, that I have every reason to 
 believe that your father is being defrauded in some
 
 A COMPROMISE 265 
 
 way. The character of the man with whom I saw 
 him, is sufficient to justify my saying this. Also, 
 alas ! this same man now appears to be standing in 
 such a connection with me as makes it impossible for 
 me to inform any ordinary person of the facts. I 
 might injure an innocent undoubtedly innocent 
 person by so doing, to say nothing of perhaps letting 
 out a secret which your father's actions prove he 
 wishes kept dark. For a whole week I have been 
 trying to see my way clear, and at last I know that it 
 lies only in refusing to help you." 
 
 "And yet," said Iris slowly, rising and putting on 
 her wraps, "I would reward the right person to the 
 best of my ability, if only the work of helping, per- 
 haps saving, my father could be continued." 
 
 He gave her the muff for which she stretched out 
 her hand. 
 
 "I wish indeed that I could help you," said he. "I 
 know the danger of confiding so delicate a matter to 
 any one. But, perhaps, for a reward what would 
 it be, this reward?" 
 
 For an instant the audacity of what she was about 
 to say rose like an impediment in her throat, hold- 
 ing her silent, while her heart beat violently. Then, 
 at last, she found her voice.
 
 266 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 "I would marry him, no matter though he thought 
 there were insurmountable objections," she said with 
 meaning. 
 
 He stood astounded, scarcely able to credit his 
 hearing, and could only look and look at her, open- 
 mouthed. Then a gleam of light swept across his 
 face as though he were suddenly possessed of a glori- 
 ous idea. 
 
 "Iris!" he gasped "will you will you put that 
 down on paper? Make an what you call it affi- 
 davit?" 
 
 "Affidavit? yes !" she replied. 
 
 "Then do so!" he cried, pushing pen and paper 
 toward her. 
 
 "Do you really want it?" she asked, looking 
 straight into his eyes. 
 
 "You bet !" he shouted joyously. 
 
 She laid down her muff, and drawing off her 
 glove, she wrote : 
 
 "I hereby promise to marry you on the day you 
 can tell me my father is not being subjected to dan- 
 ger, or has been rescued from that, if any, which 
 now imperils him. And I furthermore agree to over- 
 come any debatable objections you may have to the 
 marriage. IRIS VANDERPOOL."
 
 A COMPROMISE 267 
 
 "There!" she said, laughing a trifle hysterically, 
 when she had finished, "will that do?" 
 
 "Splendidly!" said Pedro, and thrusting the 
 folded paper into his breast pocket, seized her hand 
 and kissed it with the grace of a courtier. 
 
 Iris blushed, watching him with tender eyes. 
 Then she submitted to being led down-stairs and 
 shut into her coupe. No sooner was this accom- 
 plished than Pedro fled across the little court and up 
 to the studio as if all the devils in the demonology 
 were after him, and slamming the door behind him, 
 he proceeded to dance the coquette at a mad pace, 
 upsetting several articles of furniture in the process. 
 
 "And now to find Mr. Samuel Hill!" he shouted 
 gleefully, waving the paper above his head. 
 
 "Ah ! Meestre Sam/till/' was echoed in a wail 
 from outside the door. "Where, oh ! where is he?"
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 SOME ADVENTURES WITH VARIATIONS 
 
 |EDRO stared at the door as if transfixed, and 
 then, the wail being repeated, he opened his 
 portal. On the landing stood Guneviere. 
 
 "Madre de Dios!" he exclaimed, "what ails thee? 
 Come in." 
 
 "Oh! 'tis terrible!" moaned Guneviere, "that 
 Anna ! that irresponsible one ! We left her in charge, 
 and when she awoke Nita had vanished. And every 
 one was away. And now Samhill, he, too, is gone ! 
 Oh! Merciful Mother!" 
 
 "Sit down and be calm!" cried Pedro. "Tell me 
 all. What has happened?" 
 
 "Lucky it is that Samhill left the address !" ex- 
 claimed Guneviere. "And lucky, too, that I could 
 find thee. Now, all will be well !" 
 
 "Thanks, oh ! smooth tongue, for thy faith in me," 
 replied Pedro. "But what has happened? Tell me, 
 quickly !" 
 
 "Yesterday we left her with Anna," began Gune- 
 268
 
 ADVENTURES WITH VARIATIONS 269 
 
 viere, and told of Nita's illness, and strange disap- 
 pearance. 
 
 "How very queer!" he commented, when she had 
 finished. "How unlike Nita! And Hill? What has 
 he done?" 
 
 "He has not come home!" 
 
 "But there is nothing strange in that!" objected 
 Pedro. "Does he not often stay away all night, eh?" 
 
 "But the bear came home!" wailed Guneviere. 
 
 "Mr. Jones! Alone! Impossible!" 
 
 "A policeman-of-the-law brought him," explained 
 Guneviere, "saying that he found the bear near the 
 river. The name was on the collar, and the number, 
 iv savis!" 
 
 "Saint Joseph ! but that does look serious !" Pedro 
 exclaimed. "Quick! is there nothing more?" 
 
 "Only that the policeman-of-the-law made much 
 noise when he found that four bears dwelt within the 
 tenement He says we must move out. Four bears 
 are not permitted. One bear perhaps, if much 
 money be paid. But four! No, that is not allowed !" 
 
 "And what have you done?" 
 
 "We have arranged to go into the back tenement," 
 said Guneviere, evidently convinced that the change 
 would solve the difficulty.
 
 270 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 "But, Hill! Something must have happened to 
 him? And the bear left him!" said Pedro, walk- 
 ing up and down excitedly. "He may have been 
 hurt ! Near the river, eh ? Good heavens ! I scarcely 
 dare guess what has occurred !" 
 
 "The hospitals?" suggested Guneviere with some 
 faint return of her usual practicality. 
 
 "Ah ! yes," he exclaimed, "I shall telephone them 
 'at once, and then I shall go to Jones Street with you. 
 As for Nita, we shall have to find her without help ; 
 she has made me swear never to invoke public aid in 
 her behalf, you know." 
 
 "Yes, yes!" said Guneviere, "you will come 
 then?" 
 
 "Directly !" he cried. "No time must be lost." 
 
 But as it proved, time mattered little, for the hos- 
 pitals told nothing, and neither did that grim lost 
 and found office, the morgue. For two whole days 
 Pedro alternated between his studio and the rear 
 tenement on Jones Street, his mind in an agony of 
 uncertainty. He could not work for nervousness, and 
 the combined suspense and inaction played havoc 
 with his spirit. Leigh had been called out of town 
 to see his mother, who was ill, and there was no one 
 else whom Pedro dared go to for advice and help.
 
 ADVENTURES WITH VARIATIONS 271 
 
 Hill himself had forbidden that his affairs be made 
 known to any one but the sculptor, or Pedro might 
 have asked Milligan's assistance. As it was, he could 
 only fume impatiently, and eat his heart out with 
 worry. At last, no longer able to endure doing noth- 
 ing, he called a council of war in the tenement 
 kitchen. To the assembled bear-dancers, with excep- 
 tion only of the still mysteriously absent Nita, he 
 arose and spoke. 
 
 "I am going to find Sam Hill, if he is on the face 
 of the earth!" he announced. "I am convinced that 
 some misfortune has befallen him. In half an hour 
 I am going to take Mr. Jones with me, and I am not 
 coming back till we have succeeded in discovering 
 the whereabouts of my friend." 
 
 "Bien! And I," said Beau-Jean, from his seat on 
 the foot of the bed. "I will go with you to find that 
 Samhill, who is my friend, avssi." 
 
 "But Rico must not go !" cried Anna, with an 
 anxious glance at her lover. 
 
 "No, I will remain with thee, little blossom that 
 shall bear my fruit," said Rico tenderly. 
 
 "Since thou hast learned of the coming child, thou 
 art of no earthly use!" grumbled Guneviere. "Go 
 thou, my husband, and be right arm to our Pedro."
 
 272 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 "Have I not said it already?" demanded Beau- 
 Jean. 
 
 "Carlos and Rico will have to provide while we 
 are gone!" said Pedro, with the air of a general. 
 "Guneviere, pursue your search for Nita, and we 
 also shall be looking for her. Most likely we shall 
 find the partners together, in perfect safety." 
 
 "How we have missed thee, little one!" cooed 
 Guneviere. "Now that thou art here amongst us 
 again, all will go well." 
 
 "Very good !" said Pedro, "all is arranged. Come, 
 Strong Arm, we will go." 
 
 On the instant they began collecting the few traps 
 necessary for a short absence, and while they were 
 in the midst of these preparations, the door was 
 thrown open to admit an old woman. 
 
 "Nita!" yelled Pedro, springing toward her. 
 
 Instantly the room was in an uproar, all talking at 
 once, laughing and weeping, shouting questions, 
 making offers of help, proffering food and drink, 
 crowding around the crone with such clamor and 
 persistence that Pedro could scarcely manage to get 
 her to a chair. Then she sat beaming upon them all, 
 apparently in the best of health and delighted at the 
 welcome afforded her. Her clothes were, if possible,
 
 ADVENTURES WITH VARIATIONS 273 
 
 a trifle more worn and soiled than usual, but, other- 
 wise, she seemed to have suffered no harm.. 
 
 "Where hast thou been? What hast thou done? 
 Where is Samhillf Art well? Tell us !" they shouted 
 all at once. 
 
 "Aye, I am well, lucky for me!" said Nita, with 
 twinkling eyes, "for I have been a bird in my day, 
 and I am in no haste to meet what awaits me in the 
 hereafter." 
 
 "Beloved Nita!" exclaimed Pedro, kneeling be- 
 side her, "how I rejoice that thou art safe! But 
 where is Mr. Hill?" 
 
 "Samhill?" she queried. "I have not seen him, 
 nor thought of him ! I have been abroad on other 
 business. What of Samhill?" 
 
 "Don't you know?" cried Anna. And then the 
 clangor began anew. Not know where Samhill was? 
 Where could he be, then? Did she not even know 
 of his disappearance? What had she been doing? 
 etc., etc. 
 
 For answer, she took Pedro's face between her old 
 hands that were like withered leaves. 
 
 "Dost thou know who is in the city?" she asked. 
 "Thine enemy and mine, Ricardo! He struck me, 
 and I was senseless. But when mine eyes opened, I
 
 274 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 arose and went in search of him. I took the long 
 slender machete with the handle of pearl, but I 
 found him not. There was a woman with him ..." 
 
 "Yes," said Pedro, "my mother." 
 
 "Then thou, too, hast seen him! Where?" she 
 asked eagerly. "And with thy mother? Surely you 
 are mad?" 
 
 "Not mad, only bewildered, and frightened," he 
 answered. "I know where they are, but not for what 
 purpose! I shall tell thee all that I have seen, but 
 not now. Can't you hear the others saying that my 
 benefactor has vanished? Before anything else we 
 must find and help him, if need be." 
 
 "Where is Ricardo and thy mother?" asked Nita, 
 her eyes fixed upon Pedro's, and her hand closed 
 tightly upon some object that was hidden among 
 the bundled shawls and scarfs about her waist. Pe- 
 dro's eye followed the movement. 
 
 "It is very far from here, oh, ancient lady," he 
 lied glibly, "and I shall not tell you where until I re- 
 turn. Then we shall attend to your little matter, and 
 I shall see why and how my mother comes in such 
 company. My mother!" he turned away and sighed. 
 "I had forgotten how I love her!" he said as though 
 to himself. Then he picked up the pole and chain,
 
 ADVENTURES WITH VARIATIONS 275 
 
 and signaled to Beau-Jean that he was ready. Nita 
 arose to her feet. 
 
 "Where is the murderer, the seducer of my 
 daughter?" she screamed. "Where is Ricardo?" 
 
 "At the other end of the city," said Pedro. "Come 
 quickly, Beau-Jean." 
 
 And with that they were off, leaving Nita screech- 
 ing imprecations at them from the stair-head, in the 
 most healthy manner. As they reached the street 
 Beau-Jean asked: 
 
 "What is all this murder business of which Nita 
 talks ? Couldn't we manage to avenge her, when we 
 have found Samhill?" 
 
 "Perhaps," said Pedro soberly, "for this man, Ri- 
 cardo Valdez, is a very wicked man. He used to live 
 near my home. Nita was my nurse, once, and her 
 daughter was my foster-sister. When she was only 
 fifteen, Ricardo stole her away. Then he deserted 
 her, and when she came back to us, she killed herself 
 and her baby. Ever since then Nita has been looking 
 for him, to avenge her child. But she is so old now, 
 that I think we had best not let her do it I am sure 
 she would really prefer dying with us, to dying in 
 jail !" 
 
 "I agree," said Beau-Jean.
 
 276 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 "And now, which way shall we turn?" said Pedro. 
 
 "As the bear came from the river, let us to the 
 river go," suggested Beau-Jean. 
 
 "A good notion," said Pedro, "and as likely to 
 prove fruitful as any." 
 
 "More likely up-town, than down, from here," 
 said Beau-Jean, and again Pedro assented. 
 
 And so, in accordance with the plan, if plan it 
 could be properly called, they made their way west- 
 ward, straight toward the docks, and once reaching 
 them, began a pilgrimage up-town, wending an in- 
 tricate way among trucks, cabs, autos, longshoremen 
 and sailors, Jew-pedlers, market-wagons and am- 
 bling horsercars. 
 
 Just what they expected to find, it would be hard 
 to say, but they went along hopefully, stopping now 
 and again to peer into the recesses of some covered 
 dock, or through the dim windows of a water-front 
 shop, sometimes stopping to exchange a word or two 
 with the proprietor, or whomsoever was about. Sud- 
 denly a doubt came to Pedro. 
 
 "Are you sure this is the right river?" he asked. 
 "There are two one on the East Side." 
 
 "This is the one," said Beau-Jean, and they con- 
 tinued up-town, past old houses, cheap houses, tall
 
 ADVENTURES WITH VARIATIONS 277 
 
 clean warehouses, and tall dirty warehouses, until 
 they came to Thirteenth Street, where the railroad 
 runs, unfenced, unprotected, upon the open avenue. 
 Here the tenements were more in evidence, and the 
 little children ran out over the tracks as they played. 
 Between the winding crisscross of rails were 
 dirty scarred remnants of the snow, and on the nar- 
 row pavements lay the refuse from the dwellings. 
 Buildings for the storing of foods, and shacks be- 
 longing to the railroads, were placed at irregular in- 
 tervals throughout the yards, and in between these 
 and the street, wound the tracks. The obstructing 
 buildings often made it impossible to see an ap- 
 proaching engine part of the time, and the intricate 
 network in which the rails were laid, made guessing 
 which direction the train would take, a difficult and 
 deceptive problem. Twice, within a few blocks they 
 were nearly run over, and when Mr. Jones pulled 
 Pedro down a side street out of the dangerous thor- 
 oughfare, Beau- Jean followed with a sigh of relief. 
 Mr. Jones now began acting in a most peculiar 
 manner. Something on the sidewalk had attracted 
 his attention, and nothing could divert him until he 
 had made a thorough inspection. To Beau-Jean and 
 to Pedro there appeared to be nothing on the pave-
 
 278 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 ment but a good deal of dirt and refuse; but one 
 particular spot seemed to have fascinated Mr. Jones, 
 and there was nothing for it but to stand waiting 
 while he nosed about. 
 
 "Shall I chasten him?" asked Beau-Jean, who was 
 accustomed to using this method with Koko. 
 
 "No, certainly not," said Pedro, "I believe he's 
 been here before. Perhaps he recognizes something. 
 Let us watch!" 
 
 Pedro's surmise was an eminently correct one, for 
 Mr. Jones had recognized honey! Very shortly he 
 raised his head, found the scent, and came upon a 
 second spot of interest. How delightful ! this was 
 the neighborhood in which he had found that nice 
 hive where there were no bees to sting, and where 
 the honey was so plentiful ! He really had not taken 
 half of it last time! And here were his own foot- 
 steps, his sticky honey-made footprints, which would 
 help him to find the treasure again. St. Bruin be 
 praised! They washed the sidewalks of this neigh- 
 borhood no more than they did the forest-trails. 
 Again he sniffed and pawed, and the two who fol- 
 lowed him began to be of a single mind regarding 
 his familiarity with the place. Meanwhile, the chil- 
 dren were crowding about, following the animal's
 
 ADVENTURES WITH VARIATIONS 279 
 
 slow progress. Thus it happened that in time they 
 reached the doorway of the little dairy, which Mr. 
 Jones recognized with a joyful bound, and a sort of 
 purr, which brought the dairyman (who had spied 
 him through the window) to the entrance, with a 
 shower of abuse ready at hand. 
 
 "Get out of this, youse!" shouted the milk-vender. 
 "Don't you dast ter come in, any of youse! I ain't- 
 a-goin'-ter sell yer nothin'. Get off, you smashin' 
 murderin' bunch of dagoes! I'll set the cop on yer 
 if yer don't skidoo !" 
 
 "Why?" asked Pedro, wildly excited. "But why 
 won't you sell to us?" 
 
 "Go on now! none o' yer back-talk!" growled the 
 man. "I sold to one dago feller with a bear last 
 week, an' the brute eat up all me comb-honey! So 
 get out; quit talkin'." 
 
 "A man with a bear?" cried Pedro, scarcely able 
 to believe his ears. "I'll bet it's the one I want to 
 find. That bear he had belongs to me." 
 
 "Well, what do I care for that?" said the milk- 
 vender sourly. "Get out, or will I call the cop?" 
 
 "Which way did he go?" persisted Pedro "same 
 way as we came?" 
 
 A malicious smile came upon the weazened fea-
 
 280 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 tures of the dairyman. Here was a chance to mis- 
 lead and annoy a bear-dancer, and to do so was a 
 wondrous source of satisfaction. 
 
 "He went this way, bad luck to him!" he lied, 
 pointing east, "if yer catch up with him, I hope the 
 bear eats both of yer !" 
 
 With which Christian sentiment he slammed the 
 door, and the interested crowd set up a laugh. 
 Angrily, Beau-Jean shouted them away. 
 
 "Shall I thrash them all?" he asked of Pedro. 
 
 "Nay, let them be," responded the lad, adding 
 eagerly, "let us be off ! This news may lead to some- 
 thing." 
 
 "I think the man was lying," said Beau-Jean. 
 "Let us retrace our steps." 
 
 "I don't agree !" replied Pedro. "This way seems 
 to me more likely." 
 
 And as usual, he won his point. Once more they 
 joined the busy many-hued shifting panorama of the 
 crowded street. They steered a straight course, for 
 they knew not what else to do. Both kept on the 
 alert, and after them a little straggling crowd of 
 children followed, like the ragged tail of a kite. 
 
 When they had been walking for about half an
 
 ADVENTURES WITH VARIATIONS 281 
 
 hour, Pedro laid his hand upon the arm of his com- 
 panion. 
 
 "Look, Beau-Jean !" said he. "Look, there, in the 
 window of the little shop of women's finery ! See 
 the girl with the red-gold hair? I am painting a 
 picture of the Holy Mother, and the hair is of just 
 such a color!" 
 
 "Indeed!" said Beau-Jean soberly. "It is a ter- 
 rible color. Do you think that the Holy Mother will 
 be pleased?" 
 
 "I had not thought of that !" replied Pedro. Then 
 he added suddenly "Oh ! see, the shop-lady knows 
 Mr. Jones!" 
 
 It was true. The red-haired girl had given very 
 animated signs of recognizing the bear, and lifted 
 her gaze to the persons in whose company he ap- 
 peared, with a smile on her lips, which swiftly gave 
 way to a look of disappointment as she met their 
 eyes. 
 
 "Wait!" said Pedro, halting before the door, 
 "that lady has seen this bear before, or I am much 
 mistaken ! And what is more, she expected to see 
 some one she knew, when she looked at us! Come 
 in, I want to buy some thread."
 
 282 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 Whereupon, he opened the door, and with the 
 bear, entered the crowded little shop, leaving Beau- 
 Jean gasping out on the pavement. 
 
 Behind the purple satin corset and the dangling 
 neckties stood the smiling Lola La Farge, alias 
 Lizzy Hinkle. 
 
 "What can I do for you?" she asked, laying aside 
 the bit of knitting upon which she had been en- 
 gaged. 
 
 "Thread, please!" said Pedro, flashing his smile 
 at her. 
 
 "What color?" she inquired, admiring his eyes 
 and teeth. 
 
 "Er ah green, please!" said Pedro, because her 
 eyes were rather of that color, and consequently it 
 came first to mind : "Green, and a needle, please." 
 
 "A needle!" she exclaimed, "you mean a package 
 of needles!" 
 
 "I only need one at a time," he told her. Would 
 she speak of the bear? Ah! she was going to! 
 
 "Seems as if training bears and sewing didn't go 
 together very good," she giggled. "There was a 
 gent in here not long ago, who didn't know much 
 more'n you ! He had a bear, too !" 
 
 "Yes?" said Pedro.
 
 ADVENTURES WITH VARIATIONS 283 
 
 "Yes, indeed," she responded, busily getting out 
 the articles he had named. "I do declare to good- 
 ness, I thought this was the very identical bear, when 
 I seen you coming!" 
 
 "It is the identical bear," remarked Pedro. 
 
 "What !" said she, with a little shriek of surprise 
 "well, I never! How is the other feller? Ain't he 
 got the bear with him then?" 
 
 "No, I've got him!" said Pedro dryly. 
 
 "You don't say !" exclaimed the girl, peering over 
 the counter, as though seeing the animal for the 
 first time. 
 
 "And so you know my pal, eh?" said Pedro. 
 "Now that is nice !" 
 
 He smiled again, and, as was usually the case, 
 hypnotized her into instant response. Encouraged 
 by his interest, and by the fact of their mutual 
 friend, she drew a postal card not from the bosom 
 of her pink shirt-waist from her pocketbook. 
 
 "Well, I certainly do know him !" said she. "I 
 had this postal from him only three days ago!" 
 
 Trying not to seem over-eager, he took it and read 
 the postmark and the signature. It was Hill's and 
 came from Jersey City! At last the scent was get- 
 ting warm. What good fortune! But he must not
 
 284 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 seem too anxious, or she might grow reticent. 
 Diplomacy, diplomacy! 
 
 "You are treated better than I am!" he com- 
 plained whimsically. "I haven't even had a card! 
 But then, you are a lady, which makes all the differ- 
 ence. Ah! woman, lovely woman! How you fas- 
 cinate and abuse us !" 
 
 She giggled self-consciously. 
 
 "So this is the latest news of Hill!" said Pedro. 
 "I suppose you write to each other frequently?" 
 
 "Well, no!" said she. "You see, I'm engaged. I 
 told Mr. Sam it was useless, but he's so persistent." 
 
 She giggled again. 
 
 "Poor Sam!" said Pedro. "You are very cruel!" 
 
 "Do you happen to know his Jersey address?" she 
 asked, thereby giving Pedro the information he 
 wanted, to wit: that she was unaware of Hill's pres- 
 ent whereabouts. 
 
 "Oh ! he was only there for a day !" said Pedro, 
 putting the coin which she indicated out of his hand- 
 ful, upon the counter. "He might drop in here any 
 time. If he does, tell him Pedro was asking for 
 him, will you ? And now, good-by ; I must be off !" 
 
 He leaned over the counter to pick up his package, 
 and she leaned over the counter to help him, per-
 
 ADVENTURES WITH VARIATIONS 285 
 
 haps. Her face was very near, and her puckered 
 mouth sweet and red, despite the fact that she was 
 so far from pretty. Yet Pedro took no base ad- 
 vantage of the opportunity, and having secured his 
 infinitesimal bundle, lifted his hat and bowed her a 
 graceful farewell. Pouting a little, she flung him 
 a taunt as he reached the door. 
 
 "I like Mr. Sam the best," she said. 
 
 As Pedro joined his waiting companion outside, 
 he was met with a string of reproaches. 
 
 "Never before have I seen you tarry so long with 
 a woman, oh, waster of precious moments!" said 
 Beau-Jean. "How shall it benefit thee?" 
 
 "It has already done so !" declared Pedro. "Come, 
 hasten with me. We are going to Jersey City. I 
 shall explain on the way." 
 
 So off they went to the ferry, Mr. Jones, the in- 
 advertent detective, shuffling after. 
 
 To discover where the picture post-card had been 
 purchased, would have been almost impossible; but 
 to locate the district in which it had been mailed 
 was easy enough, and that, combined with the hour 
 which had been stamped upon it, was sufficient evi- 
 dence to show that Sam had been near the water- 
 front at some time between eight and ten o'clock on
 
 286 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 the evening of the previous Monday. Consequently, 
 the next problem that confronted them was what 
 Hill had done after dropping this exquisite chromo 
 into a district "X" pillar-box ? Pedro at once tried 
 to picture his own probable actions were he to find 
 himself in such a district at such an hour, with, pre- 
 sumably, no company but Mr. Jones ! Ah ! of course ! 
 the cabarets the saloons of the dance! That 
 seemed the obvious answer, but he consulted with 
 Beau-Jean, to be certain. . . . Yes, Beau-Jean 
 would make straight for the cafes, and Hill had 
 probably done the same, if one were to consult him, 
 the Proven9al ! In these low drinking places were 
 many sailors and longshoremen, who were free with 
 their money and laughed very much to see a bear 
 perform. Doubtless, Samhill would go to some of 
 these. And certainly their search should include 
 them, for they were of a character where one would 
 be only too apt to meet with foul play. Fights were 
 frequent and even the officers of police let them 
 alone. But he, Beau-Jean, was mighty of arm ! 
 He was not afraid to explore them, if Pedro was so 
 disposed. Pedro was so inclined determined, in 
 fact, and decided to try them at once. 
 
 Thus it came about that the shades of evening
 
 found them loitering from one low-browed ram- 
 shackle dive to another, ever inquiring for Hill, 
 of whom they found no further sign. The night 
 fell, cold and black, and still they pursued their 
 weary search, which promised to be fruitless. Not 
 only did they learn nothing of the missing painter, 
 but no one seemed to have the slightest recollection 
 of the bear, a hope on which they had counted 
 strongly. Finally, when nine o'clock had come, and 
 still nothing had been discovered, Beau- Jean sug- 
 gested that they postpone their effort until the fol- 
 lowing day, and rest their weary brains and bodies 
 for a while. But Pedro would have none of these 
 suggestions. 
 
 "But I am hungry !" protested the giant. "Here it 
 is, of an hour, and we have eaten nothing since noon. 
 Moreover, the bear is famished. Presently he will 
 begin to growl." 
 
 "Well," admitted Pedro reluctantly, "I am hungry 
 myself. Let us go and eat and smoke. Afterward, 
 we shall feel more inclined to search. Where shall 
 we go?" 
 
 They were standing on a desolate street corner 
 when the consultation took place. To the south 
 stretched the bleak darkness of sealed warehouses
 
 288 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 before which the faint lamps marched away, block 
 after block into the dim starlikeness which distance 
 lent them. On the other side, a group of buildings 
 in more active use flared about a ferry terminal, 
 some three blocks below. This looked more prom- 
 ising. 
 
 "I think there is a lunch-wagon down by the 
 dock," said Beau-Jean, "let us make an examina- 
 tion." 
 
 "All right," Pedro assented, and they set off at a 
 brisk pace, in the direction of the lights. 
 
 Sure enough, there was a lunch-wagon backed up 
 against the ferry-house, and as they approached, it 
 took on an increasingly familiar air. Pedro's inter- 
 est was now quickened by more than the thought of 
 food. Where had he seen that gaudy decoration be- 
 fore ? . . . Holy Saints ! it was his own ! At the 
 same instant, Beau-Jean recognized the movable 
 hostelry of Mr. Isaac Lovejoy, with a whoop of glee, 
 and they quickened their pace to a run. The worthy 
 proprietor was occupied in serving a pair of cus- 
 tomers car conductors, or ferrymen, they appeared 
 to be but when he caught sight of Pedro he 
 dropped the slice of pumpkin pie that he was in
 
 ADVENTURES WITH VARIATIONS 289 
 
 the act of transferring from platter to plate, and 
 entirely disregarding this small mishap, he stretched 
 out both hands to the boy, a broad smile of welcome 
 spreading over his now ruddy face. 
 
 "Well, well, I'm blessed!" he cried. "The great 
 little feller! and the big husky one, too! Well, 
 well, ain't this grand? Come in, come in and eat. 
 It certainly does my eyes good ter see you." 
 
 A very different person from the fat but despond- 
 ent lunch-wagoner whom Pedro had met -in the 
 grimy little suburban square, was the present smiling 
 and prosperous I. Lovejoy, who beamed, who 
 laughed, who pressed his best viands upon them. 
 True, he was still very fat fatter than ever but 
 the world had gone well with him, and he seemed to 
 have used his smiling likeness on the wagon's ex- 
 terior as an example to be lived up to. 
 
 "Well, well! What brings you way off here?" he 
 asked, when they had eaten. 
 
 For a moment Pedro hesitated and then, looking 
 into the honest red face, decided to give his Con- 
 fidence and related the cause of their sudden appear- 
 ance in the wilderness of the Jersey docks. 
 
 "You don't say !" said the fat man, who had lis-
 
 290 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 tened with great interest and attention. "You don't 
 say ! Why, I seen the very feller ! A likely-lookin' 
 chap he was, too and a friend of my girl's." 
 
 "Really? What good fortune !" cried Pedro. And 
 then Love joy went on to describe the meal that 
 Hill had eaten with him, omitting nothing, down to 
 the very number of doughnuts and the strength of 
 the coffee that Sam had imbibed. All this was re- 
 lated with an air of deep significance. 
 
 "And what are you a-goin' to do now ?" he con- 
 cluded. 
 
 "I don't quite know," admitted Pedro, "but what 
 you have told us makes me sure that we are on the 
 right track. We might keep on going through the 
 saloons near by." 
 
 The fat man looked thoughtful for a moment, 
 scratching his head in silence. Then: "Lookey 
 here !" he burst out, "them low-down money -gettin' 
 dives are no ladies' cafes, and it ain't safe to wander 
 round in 'em 'cept in company. Now I like you 
 you done for me what I can't repay, but I'll have a 
 try. I'm a-goin' to lock up this place and I'm 
 a-goin' with you." 
 
 "Good!" exclaimed Pedro, holding out his hand,
 
 ADVENTURES WITH VARIATIONS 291 
 
 "you are what does one say a brick! Isn't he, 
 Beau-Jean, eh? But it is not necessary, and I beg 
 that you will not disturb yourself." 
 
 ' 'Twon't disturb me none," said Mr. Lovejoy, 
 "and I liked that young feller. I hate to think he 
 may be a-lyin' dead and cold in some wine-cellar, 
 pierced through the heart with a dagger, or a hat- 
 pin, maybe. I'm a-goin' ter help you re-venge him, 
 yes, if I lose money by it, by jingo !" 
 
 "I beg that you will do nothing to make yourself 
 a loss!" cried Beau-Jean, who did not relish the 
 prospect of this addition to their party. 
 
 "Although every fifty cents lost keeps me just 
 that much further from my Lola," said Lovejoy sol- 
 emnly, "I'm a-goin' to make the sacrifice this time." 
 
 Wherewith, he concealed a long bread-knife in the 
 inner pocket of his overcoat, and extinguishing the 
 light, announced that he was ready for action. 
 
 "Where now?" asked the giant, as the three, fol- 
 lowed, of course, by Mr. Jones, strode out into the 
 night. 
 
 "There's Beer Peter's," suggested the new mem- 
 ber, "have you tried there?" 
 
 "No," responded Pedro, "where is it?"
 
 292 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 "Follow me," directed Lovejoy, "it's a likely 
 place." 
 
 They set off at once, and trudged on in silence 
 until a low frame building, abutting on the river and 
 built partially on piles, was reached. Pushing open 
 the felt-covered doors, Lovejoy paid for their en- 
 trance, and in another moment they were in the long 
 low-ceilinged room that formed the main portion 
 of the building. A devastating odor rushed out to 
 meet them, like a blast from some evil furnace. The 
 place was blue with tobacco smoke, and at the far 
 end, beyond a sea of little tables, a girl was singing 
 to the accompaniment of a cracked piano. Coarse 
 faces greeted them on every side, and voices were 
 raised in noisy talk, despite the music. At more 
 than fifty beer-ringed tables, little groups gossiped 
 and glowered. There were sailors, loafers, name- 
 less men, and shame-bereft men, and gentlemen, out 
 at elbows, all the chaff of the city's wheat; and 
 burly workingmen, to whom this rough imitation 
 gaiety represented all they knew of amusement. As 
 for the women, they were sad-hearted, brightly 
 dressed "daughters of joy," for the most part vic- 
 tims of a ghastly inheritance of weakness and ig- 
 norance.
 
 ADVENTURES WITH VARIATIONS 293 
 
 "Hurry up, there's something missing, 
 We'll have lots of kissing, 
 Pa and ma have left me all alone!" 
 
 So sang the girl on the little platform, and began 
 to dance very poorly. She was dressed in a light- 
 colored cheap satin tailored gown, which was far 
 from spotless, but lacked nothing in chic and effect- 
 iveness. She wore no hat, and her dark hair, cut 
 in a fringe which reached her eyebrows, gave her 
 for all the world the hallmark of Montmartre ! Save 
 for her unprofessional dancing and the lack of 
 subtlety in her song, she might have belonged in any 
 den beloved of the Apache. 
 
 At one end of this charming resort, which was 
 typical enough of its class, stood the glittering bar 
 with a shining array of glasses, mahogany and pol- 
 ished metal, while opposite the entrance, in what 
 appeared to be a single-storied addition, was a room 
 for dancing. Near the wide opening into this sec- 
 tion, sat Theodore Pell, the reporter, in company 
 with three companions Elloch the painter, and two 
 women. They were all very hilarious, but catching 
 sight of Pedro, Pell excused himself, and began a 
 somewhat uncertain progress in the direction of the 
 newcomer. At the same instant a man who seemed
 
 294 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 to be in authority there, accosted the three and de- 
 manded to know if they wanted to have Mr. Jones 
 perform. 
 
 "The house takes half of what you get," he added. 
 
 "Do you often have dancing bears here?" asked 
 Pedro. 
 
 "Nope, never yet," said the man, "but it might 
 go. Try it on after the next dance, if you like." 
 
 "Maybe I will," replied the other. Then, as the 
 proprietor moved away, he added, speaking to Love- 
 joy in a low tone, "Let us get right away. This 
 place is too open. Nothing serious could happen 
 here, and besides I am almost certain that Hill has 
 not been here, from what that fellow said." 
 
 "All right," replied Lovejoy, "we might try the 
 back room at Murphy's, or Spikey Joe's place." 
 
 "Good!" said Pedro promptly, hustling them out 
 before Pell could reach them. This escape did not, 
 however, preve'nt the morning papers from bearing 
 an account of how Signor E. C. Pedro, the noted 
 Spanish painter, went slumming in disguise. 
 
 It was to the little unnamed wine-cellar known as 
 "Spikey Joe's" that the rescue party went next. 
 Here the very scum of the docks was gathered, and 
 the women were of a kind one never sees by day-
 
 ADVENTURES WITH VARIATIONS 295 
 
 light. There were thieves and pickpockets, dancing 
 and amusing themselves just as though they were 
 human ; and sickly-faced young men whose pro- 
 fession is unnamable; a terrible group of weary 
 young people, calloused, yet sensation-hungry. The 
 three companions had scarcely entered before it be- 
 came evident that here at last was a place in which 
 Hill had been, for a girl with flaming cheeks and an 
 unbelievable coiffure turned and pointed to the bear, 
 with a scream. 
 
 "There's a Teddy," she called out, "a cute little 
 Teddy-bear, just like the one the other guy had. 
 Oh, the cute little " 
 
 Here followed a joke which made Lovejoy wince, 
 but which elicited a roar of mirth from the habitues. 
 But Pedro cared not at all for the import of the lat- 
 ter portion of her speech. Not for nothing had he 
 lived with Nita the Sinful. With an inviting ges- 
 ture he beckoned to the girl, and made the motion 
 of one who drinks. With a laugh, she left her 
 partner and came to him, and then, in company with 
 the two others, they sat down at a long bare wooden 
 table and Pedro paid for the poisonous mixture she 
 ordered. 
 
 "Dancing a bear must be a hell of a swell busi-
 
 296 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 ness !" she remarked. "You've got the coin, ain't you, 
 sweetheart?" and she stretched out her hand to 
 touch his face. Upon the heels of the rebuff that 
 followed there was a laugh at her expense. 
 
 "Can't kidnap that young one, Pearlie !" sang out 
 her ex-partner. 
 
 Pedro had her glass refilled. 
 
 "Tell us about the other bear-fellow," he sug- 
 gested. "I'd like to know who my rival is." 
 
 "Sure, cutie, I'll tell you," she smiled. But all 
 she had to say was that a nice fresh feller (pre- 
 sumably Hill) had been there three days ago, had 
 made his bear perform, got no money for it, and had 
 gone away peaceably. When it was clear that nei- 
 ther she nor any one else there, could give him any 
 further information, Pedro arose and signaled the 
 others to do likewise. 
 
 "Don't go ! Whatcher hurry 'tain't morning yet," 
 said Pearlie invitingly. But they were not to be 
 persuaded. 
 
 Once again they stood in the keen night air, on the 
 brink of the long dark vista of the streets. Here 
 they consulted again, doubtful as to where to turn. 
 Lovejoy opened his watch. 
 
 "The night's young yet," he remarked, "only a
 
 ADVENTURES WITH VARIATIONS 297 
 
 quarter past eleven. We've got lots of time to find 
 him before morning." 
 
 Pedro and Beau-Jean agreed to this, more for the 
 sake of saying something than from any conviction. 
 
 "But where can we look next?" added the former, 
 with a despairing gesture. 
 
 "I don't really know," responded Lovejoy. "We 
 might as well walk till we come to some place, 
 though." 
 
 At this suggestion they began moving again. 
 
 Now it happened that they soon came upon a por- 
 tion of the one-sided street where the walk had been 
 torn up, and perforce they had to cross to the cobble- 
 stones beside the water. Here were some covered 
 piers, and beside one of them Pedro stopped the trio 
 that he might light a cigarette. Beau-Jean followed 
 suit, and Lovejoy, saying that he had promised 
 Lola not to smoke, shook his head, and stood looking 
 up at the semicircular sign above the dock en- 
 trance. 
 
 "Venezuela Fruit Steamship Company." 
 
 He spelled it aloud slowly. 
 
 A strange expression crept over Pedro's face as 
 he listened. 
 
 "Let us look at the boat that goes to that glo-
 
 298 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 rious country !" he said impulsively. And they began 
 moving toward the ill-lit entrance. The gates were 
 open, and in the dim light some men were working 
 about the hold. As they approached, they saw that 
 a small corrugated iron house, a story and a half in 
 height, was jammed up against the dock; the watch- 
 man's dwelling, perhaps, or the company's offices. 
 This little building was so situated that there was no 
 other structure except the dock within at least two 
 hundred yards on either hand. All about was quiet 
 and dark, and save where the men labored in the 
 depths of the pier, there was no sign of life. 
 
 "What the devil do you want to go nosing around 
 here for?" complained Lovejoy. "The cold is some- 
 thing fierce!" 
 
 "Just a moment!" pleaded Pedro. "I love that 
 country so Venezuela!" 
 
 "What's he up to?" Lovejoy whispered to the 
 giant. But before Beau-Jean could reply, a lot of 
 things began to happen. 
 
 In the absorption of the moment Pedro had slack- 
 ened his hold upon Mr. Jones' chain, and the bear, 
 giving a sudden tug, found himself free, and 
 bounded off toward the little corrugated iron 
 house, some twenty feet away, and at once began
 
 ADVENTURES WITH VARIATIONS 299 
 
 scratching frantically upon the door that opened 
 upon its porch. Instantly the three men ran after 
 him. 
 
 "Come here, you bear!" yelled Lovejoy. 
 
 "Don't! Let him alone!" cried Pedro. What on 
 earth could the creature's action mean? Then knowl- 
 edge came to him in a flash, and running to the door 
 at which Mr. Jones was now sniffing and giving 
 little growls of joy, he put his ear to the panel. 
 Holding up a hand which warned the others to si- 
 lence, he spoke in a distinct but quiet voice. 
 
 "Are you there, Sam Hill?" 
 
 After a breathless pause, as if of unbelief on the 
 part of the occupant of the room beyond, came the 
 answer. 
 
 "Yes; who are you?" 
 
 "Pedro," was the reply. "Are you a prisoner?" 
 
 "Yes!" said the voice of Hill. "Good heavens! 
 how did you come to find " 
 
 The rest of the sentence was lost in a shout for 
 help from Lovejoy; there was a sudden sound of 
 scuffling, and Pedro, turning to his aid, was met by a 
 blow on the head from a burly fist.
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 TO THE RESCUE 
 
 WITH magical swiftness the semi-darkness 
 began to swarm with struggling shapes, 
 which sprang from everywhere and nowhere. 
 
 Returning the blow of his assailant with all his 
 puny strength, Pedro managed to scramble into posi- 
 tion with his back against the house, where, from 
 within, he could still hear Hill's voice shouting di- 
 rections which, however, were unintelligible to his 
 distracted attention. Somewhere near by, Beau- 
 Jean's string of rough oaths roared upon the tur- 
 moil, and Lovejoy began yelping for the police. At 
 this latter cry there was a slight wavering among 
 their unknown assailants, but it was quickly 
 mended by a new onrush. 
 
 The men who had been working at the ship, now 
 left their tasks and joined the fracas on general 
 principles, siding with neither party, but laying 
 about them with vigor and a splendid lack of dis- 
 crimination. Only the desolate character of the 
 
 300
 
 TO THE RESCUE 301 
 
 neighborhood accounted for the non-appearance of 
 even greater numbers, ready to fight for the fight's 
 own sake. But it was already quite a fierce strug- 
 gle, and Pedro very soon began to find it difficult 
 to keep his feet. The man with whom he was con- 
 fronted had an overwhelming advantage in height 
 and weight, while Pedro was slight and soft, and 
 truth to tell, rather badly frightened. He had all 
 he could do to protect his face, fending off the 
 other's blows as best he might. How hot the man's 
 breath was ! What a tower of strength he seemed, 
 like some minaret of a citadel come to life and 
 marching upon the enemy. To strike him with such 
 strength as he, Pedro, possessed, would have been 
 about as futile as striking a stone wall. What would 
 the end be? If only he could manage to keep the 
 fellow from knocking him out till Beau-Jean and 
 Lovejoy managed to win, or the police arrived. But 
 what if he should fail? 
 
 It seemed as though they had an army against 
 them, though as a matter of fact, there were not 
 more than ten in all. Twice he with difficulty sup- 
 pressed the temptation to call upon his friends for 
 help, and with sobbing indrawn breath fought on 
 wildly, elusively, striving desperately to prevent his
 
 302 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 opponent from grappling with him. A solitary po- 
 liceman (a night roundsman) had come up. Pedro 
 could hear him shouting above the din, but his ef- 
 forts at establishing order were absolutely ineffec- 
 tual. Two or three watchmen from the nearest docks 
 now joined the row, and like the stevedores, not 
 knowing the nature of the trouble, only added to the 
 strife and confusion. 
 
 By now, Pedro was fast losing strength. It seemed 
 to him that at any instant he must succumb, and sink 
 to the ground. Only a horror of being trampled on 
 sustained him, and his head was growing light. 
 Then his antagonist, who was bent upon his injury or 
 capture, infuriated at being held off so long by this 
 mere slip of a boy, managed to get a leg hold upon 
 Pedro. It was too much, and the boy's courage 
 gave way. 
 
 "Au soucceur!" he screamed. "A moi, Beau- 
 Jean! Au soucceur!" 
 
 Then somehow, he never quite knew in what man- 
 ner, the giant was beside him, and the black men- 
 acing shape of the other man hurtled through space 
 and landed among his fellows, scattering the fight- 
 ers for an instant. Then Hill's voice arose again,
 
 TO THE RESCUE 303 
 
 and this time, Pedro, leaning breathless and panting 
 against the house, heard and understood. 
 
 "Open the window," Hill was yelling, "it's fas- 
 tened from the outside. Open the window!" 
 
 With aching arms, Pedro strove to obey, but the 
 heavy iron bar that held the galvanized shutters 
 closed, resisted his effort. With a groan he was 
 obliged to desist, and pause for breath, while his 
 heart seemed to have swollen in some mysterious 
 manner, and to be choking him. Beau-Jean, mean- 
 while, was a veritable windmill, and one of the 
 stevedores had ranged himself beside the French- 
 man, feeling, no doubt, that it was desirable to fight 
 with, rather than against, this powerful person. 
 
 "Open the window!" yelled Hill ceaselessly. 
 Pedro bent all his strength to another effort, and at 
 the same moment there came to his ears the rapping 
 of the lone policeman's club upon the pavement, a 
 signal that was not wholly without effect upon the 
 entire crowd. Again the heavy iron bar of the 
 shutter lifted an inch or two, and again it slipped 
 back into its socket. Then some one struck him upon 
 the shoulder and turning to defend himself, he 
 looked up into the fat dripping face of Mr. Lovejoy.
 
 304 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 "God bless me!" puffed that worthy, "that was a 
 near thing ! Thought you was the enemy ! Here, you 
 sausage! (This to his next neighbor in the press.) 
 
 Take that for mustard!" 
 
 / 
 
 The fellow reeled back at the blow, and in the 
 hair's breadth interval that followed, Pedro man- 
 aged to gasp : 
 
 "The shutter-bar! Help me!" 
 
 In the twinkling of an eye the heavy iron lath had 
 been extracted and was being brandished over the 
 lunch-wagoner's head, a deadly weapon that 
 swept a space clear about the window, which 
 now burst open to emit the disheveled furious 
 figure of Samuel Hill, who was armed with an im- 
 provised cudgel, evidently the leg of a table taken 
 from the furnishings of his prison. 
 
 "United we stand !" he shouted, springing into the 
 fight with relish. Then came a cry that was echoed 
 on all sides. 
 
 "The reserves, the reserves, the police!" and the 
 crowd began to scatter. 
 
 Almost as magically as they had been surrounded, 
 they were left alone, but now, to be so left was 
 fraught with almost as many dangers as had beset 
 them a moment sooner; for that the police should
 
 TO THE RESCUE 305 
 
 not lay hands upon them was the paramount thought 
 in the minds of all. Hill was the first to act 
 
 "This way !" he called, darting off toward an ill- 
 lighted, ill-paved street, flanked only by poster-cov- 
 ered fences. The others followed in the order of 
 their prowess, Beau- Jean close upon Sam's heels, 
 Pedro next, and the panting puffing Lovejoy after 
 him. Last of all came Mr. Jones, loping along on 
 all fours. It was his tardy body that caught the 
 eye of a stout Irishman in the city's uniform, who 
 came waddling along in the van of his fellows. See- 
 ing the vanishing bear, and taking him for one of 
 the reprehensible characters who had necessitated 
 his untimely exodus from the warmth of the station- 
 house, he started in wrathful pursuit, striking the 
 creature with his club as he came up with it. At this 
 insult, Mr. Jones stopped, arose to his full height 
 and emitted a blood-curdling howl. 
 
 "Holy Mother of God !" yelled the policeman, and 
 fled, leaving Mr. Jones, considerably accelerated in 
 speed, responding to Pedro's familiar whistle. 
 
 By great good luck the rescue party managed to 
 escape pursuit, and in less than half an hour they 
 were seated (somewhat weary, but except for a feu- 
 bruises none the worse for their experience) in
 
 306 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY, 
 
 the light and warmth of Lovejoy's wagon, while 
 they discussed their adventure over hot coffee and 
 the inevitable doughnuts. Outside, the beginning 
 of a new snow-storm was rilling the air with white 
 petals. 
 
 "And why, in the name of the Gracious Madonna, 
 were you locked up?" inquired Pedro. "I can not 
 understand it." 
 
 "There is some mysterious illegal business afoot 
 among that crowd," said Hill thoughtfully. "They 
 have got that boat chock full of ammunition and 
 arms, and all under cover of being pianos, and such 
 stuff. It's against the law, you know. They sail the 
 day after to-morrow, at dawn, and as I had acci- 
 dentally stumbled upon their tricks, they decided to 
 keep me safe until they got away. I've no doubt they 
 would have let me go after that, without any fuss, 
 but it was beastly unpleasant being locked up that 
 way." 
 
 "You must give the information to the authori- 
 ties," said Pedro. 
 
 Sam seemed to be in some doubt about this, but 
 at last he decided that an explanation was due to 
 these good friends who had risked so much for him. 
 
 "You see," he began, "there is somebody that
 
 TO THE RESCUE 307 
 
 is to say, somebody's near relation mixed up in 
 this, and I well, damn it all ! I can't very well give 
 him away!" 
 
 Instantly a thousand conjectures sprang to 
 Pedro's mind. 
 
 "Is it is it Iris' father?" he said hesitatingly. 
 
 Hill stared at him in amazement, a doughnut ar- 
 rested half-way to his mouth. 
 
 "Great Scott! how did you know?" he exclaimed. 
 
 "Because well, I'll tell you later. But the rea- 
 son is that which made me come and look for you," 
 he answered. "You'll excuse us," he added to Love- 
 joy, "but it's a private affair, about a lady." 
 
 "I will indeed," responded the fat man, "ah! 
 ladies, ladies!" 
 
 "We must talk this over at once !" exclaimed Hill, 
 glancing at the clock, which showed that the hour 
 was almost I a. m. "Come, let us go !" 
 
 The three arose, and with many expressions of 
 gratitude to their host, took their departure, and 
 were soon settled upon the dingy benches of the 
 north-bound ferry. They were almost the only pas- 
 sengers on board, and lulled by the warmth of the 
 cabin, Beau-Jean fell asleep, using Mr. Jones for a 
 pillow, and the bear, also glad of the rest, followed
 
 308 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 suit. Here, then, was an excellent opportunity for 
 talk, and the other two immediately proceeded to 
 take advantage of it. 
 
 Pedro spoke first, and related the story of his ac- 
 quaintance with Iris and her request for his help in 
 the matter of her father's secret trouble. From this 
 narrative he omitted nothing except her infatuation 
 for himself, and at the end, came to the little paper 
 on which she had written her promise. At this 
 point Pedro began to mix fiction and fact. 
 
 "I could not undertake to help her," he said, "be- 
 cause I soon discovered that some one dear to me 
 would be involved, and would in turn involve me: 
 but, more of that later. I then suggested that you 
 be called upon, but she was unwilling you have had 
 a little quarrel, eh?" 
 
 The speaker watched Hill's eager face closely, to 
 note the effect of this remark. The result was con- 
 firmatory to his own deductions. 
 
 "Yes," said the elder man, "it was a silly quarrel 
 about nothing." 
 
 "Aha!" said Pedro, "so I felt sure. But she- 
 ah ! she thought you would not come to her aid. I 
 knew differently, and so I told her. Then she wrote
 
 TO THE RESCUE 309 
 
 this little paper (he spread it out upon his knee) 
 and I set out to find you and give it to you." 
 
 Hill took the fluttering bit of white, and read, 
 with glad incredulous eyes : 
 
 "I hereby promise to marry you on the day you 
 can tell me my father is not being subjected to dan- 
 ger, or has been rescued from that, if any, which 
 now imperils him. And I furthermore agree to over- 
 come any debatable objections you may have to the 
 marriage. 
 
 "(Signed) IRIS VANDERPOOL." 
 
 "For me !" said Hill tensely. "She sent it to me !" 
 
 There was an instant's pause, and then Pedro lied 
 manfully. 
 
 "Yes!" said he. 
 
 Hill let out such a whoop at this that Beau-Jean 
 and Mr. Jones woke up long enough to shift their 
 positions. 
 
 "Tell her that I shall claim the reward within the 
 week!" Hill exclaimed exultingly; "so she had bet- 
 ter prepare to pay up ! When will you see her?" 
 
 "To-morrow night there will be a masquerade at 
 the Milligans," replied Pedro. "She is to be there." 
 
 "Then tell her" Hill began.
 
 310 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY. 
 
 But Pedro stopped him, for every moment was 
 bringing them nearer to the city, and he had not yet 
 finished. 
 
 "I will," said he. "But listen now to my own part 
 of the story. You people know nothing about me. 
 Well, I am but no, I shall not say that until I have 
 to. But this I must tell you. By some strange cir- 
 cumstance, the character of which I have not yet 
 solved, my mother is in New York in company with 
 Rowe, whose real name is Ricardo Valdez, an ex- 
 minister of the Venezuela government. He is as 
 much a villain as my dear mother, my lovely girl- 
 mother, is an angel ! Until a few days ago I imagined 
 her safe in her own home, and now I discover her 
 here, and with that man ! Some reason that seems 
 good to her must have brought her, but what it is, 
 I can not even guess. But this I know whatever 
 of evil Valdez is engaged in, she is innocent, and to 
 you I must confide her interests, and beg that you 
 allow no harm to touch her." 
 
 "But why don't you look after her yourself?" 
 gasped Hill in amazement. 
 
 "I can not !" cried Pedro, his eyes full of distress. 
 "You see, I ran away oh, long, long ago, because 
 she would have forced me to oh! I can not ex-
 
 TO THE RESCUE 311 
 
 plain ! But if she once saw me, she might betray me 
 to that Valdez gang for my own good, as she 
 thinks and then I would have to go off to a far 
 country, and take up a job I loathe that would kill 
 me, that would stop my being a painter! And even 
 for my mother, I could not submit to that!" 
 
 "But how the devil can she make you go against 
 your will?" demanded Sam. "And why did you 
 leave her in the first place? It's all very mysteri- 
 ous!" 
 
 "Yes, I know it sounds strange," replied Pedro, 
 "but I can only explain a little. You might take her 
 side. Indeed, almost every one does, except Old 
 Nita. They seem to think that to be rich and power- 
 ful . . . Oh, they do not understand. They have 
 given me too much freedom for their purpose, and 
 now they can not tie me down. . . . As for hav- 
 ing left her, it was really she who left me. I had a 
 little escapade very harmless mischief it really was 
 but afterward Valdez told me that my mother 
 would not receive me any longer. I gave him a letter 
 to her in which I begged her to relent, but she never 
 answered it, nor my others. Were it not for my love 
 of her, it would be a relief to have severed my con- 
 nection with my past, because of the different life I
 
 312 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 would lead should I go back, and now that I have 
 begun to paint, to lead my own life. . . . But, 
 please, I beg of you, as I have served you, promise 
 to protect her, and ask me no more. Some day I may 
 be able to tell you everything, but not now." 
 
 "Very well," assented Hill reluctantly. "But I 
 may call upon you to get her out of a difficulty if 
 it should prove absolutely necessary to do so?" 
 
 "Yes," returned Pedro. "But remember that for 
 me to take any active part in the matter would have 
 terribly serious results for me. Now tell me about 
 Mr. Vanderpool." 
 
 "I don't know much to tell," replied Hill. "He 
 recognized me, allowed himself to be persuaded that 
 I should be locked up till this damned boat had 
 reached its port, whatever it was, and gave orders 
 that I was not to be hurt. Then he went off before 
 I could get a word in edgewise, and I haven't seen 
 him since." 
 
 The ferry-boat had reached its slip, and they 
 aroused their sleeping companions. 
 
 "Will you go to the studio?" Pedro asked when 
 they had landed. 
 
 Hill considered for a moment. 
 
 "No," he said, "I shall go back to Jones Street
 
 TO THE RESCUE 313 
 
 with Beau-Jean and the bear. I'm going to get at 
 the bottom of this business before to-morrow that 
 is, to-day is over. I have not yet decided on a 
 plan of action, but in all probability, I shall be better 
 able to work from the stratum of the tenements than 
 as myself. In the meantime, thanks, and good 
 night, and God bless you for this !" He tapped the 
 breast pocket wherein lay the promissory note 
 signed by Iris. 
 
 "Good night!" said Pedro, bestowing a violent 
 embrace upon Mr. Jones. "Good night, Beau-Jean, 
 tell Nita I shall be with her soon !" 
 
 Then they shook hands all around, and Pedro 
 watched half-wistfully until the swinging doors 
 closed upon them, and then, turning up his coat col- 
 lar, prepared for the cold journey homeward.
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 SNOW AND DOGS AND THINGS 
 
 AS Pedro emerged into the street, that snowy 
 white carpet which appears so magically lay 
 soft and muffling over the pavements, deadening the 
 sound of such little stir of life as was still abroad at 
 this most silent hour. 
 
 A distant chime struck the quarter, and pro- 
 claimed that two o'clock of a new morning was at 
 hand. The wind was biting and Pedro, ploughing 
 along ankle-deep in the shifting mass, shivered be- 
 neath the insufficient covering afforded by the old 
 green coat. How silent the world was ! Even the 
 "link" of the elevated trains seemed deadened and 
 unreal, while the whole city looked fantastically the- 
 atrical in its new mantle, like a stage scene wrapped 
 in cotton-batting for the performance of a panto- 
 mime. From window-ledge and cornice hung great 
 rolls of snow; the street lamps all had on white bon- 
 nets like peaked night-caps, and even the narrowest 
 
 314
 
 SNOW AND DOGS AND THINGS 315 
 
 wires and branches bore ridges of snow, piled higher 
 than ever human hand could have built them. 
 
 Oh ! the silence, and the rows upon rows of blind 
 houses, standing shoulder to shoulder ! Round about 
 him swirled the soft flakes, blinding him, whirling 
 about his feet in eddies as though to betray his steps. 
 Never had he seen the town so quiet. Only one 
 pedestrian passed him in a dozen blocks, and not 
 another living creature seemed to be abroad; only 
 the night-capped arc-lights, standing frozenly in 
 their wan circles of light, and the dancing mocking 
 snowflakes. At every step walking became increas- 
 ingly difficult; twice he stumbled and once he fell; 
 fell face downward in the white shifting mass that 
 felt soft upon his cheek like the cold hand of a 
 treacherous mistress. 
 
 Down the narrow chasms of the streets sang the 
 wind a dreadful symphony, too cosmic for the 
 cold traveler to listen to, and tuneful only to the ears 
 of those who lay snug and warm at home. 
 
 Painfully fighting the blast, Pedro turned up 
 lower Fifth Avenue, hugging the buildings in vain 
 search for shelter, and regretting that he had not 
 tried to get a street-car on the other side of town. 
 Still, all the public conveyances must have prac-
 
 316 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 tically stopped running in such a storm, and in a few 
 blocks more he would be home ! From the distance 
 ahead emerged a black object that presently re- 
 solved itself into a cab whose motive power, an old 
 white horse, advanced it slowly, slipping and sliding 
 with stiff knees. Half a block above Pedro, it stopped 
 at the curb, and he watched a young man spring out, 
 almost knee-deep into a drift, hand the driver his 
 fare, and make the best of his way up the broad steps 
 of a splendid old mansion. For a moment his white 
 shirt-front gleamed between the sables of his coat, 
 as, swaying slightly, he stood fumbling with his 
 latch-key before stumbling into the dimly-lit hall 
 beyond. The cabby, like an ancient turtle, drew his 
 head into the massive shell of his thick overcoat and 
 muffler, gathered the reins into his clumsy mittened 
 hands, and off went the old horse again, slip-slide, 
 slip-slide, into the dim white distance. Then again 
 only silence, and snow. 
 
 With head bent and shoulders hunched, Pedro 
 had gone past his corner by mistake, and suddenly 
 realizing this, he glanced up to find himself con- 
 fronting a building that had often attracted his 
 passing attention. It was before the old First Pres- 
 byterian Church, with its snow-laden trees, and
 
 SNOW AND DOGS AND THINGS 317 
 
 white-mounded garden, that he paused and turned 
 his back to the lashing gale. From under his hat 
 brim, which was pulled well down over his ears, his 
 eyes shone with excitement, as though he pitted his 
 puny strength against the elements for the pure joy 
 of a combat into which he entered for the sake of 
 the tossing about it would give him. Now that the 
 wind was behind him, the storm became sport, and 
 tired as he was, he no longer felt in such a hurry to 
 reach shelter. Just as he began to retrace his steps, 
 allowing the wind to push him, he heard a low moan, 
 as of some one in pain. 
 
 For a second he hesitated to trust his hearing, and 
 walked on for a pace or two. Then it came again, 
 faintly, against the wind, and this time he stopped 
 to listen. The sound seemed to come from the 
 portico of the church. Going up to the iron gate, he 
 found it open, and peered inside. Apparently no 
 one was there, and he was about to leave, when 
 within the dark central doorway something moved, 
 and a gleam of white flashed out of the gloom. 
 
 In an instant Pedro had bounded across the snow- 
 filled space between gate and door, and was kneel- 
 ing on the flagging of the vestibule, groping about. 
 Then something warm and moist touched his hand,
 
 318 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 and he discovered the sufferer to be a large black 
 dog with a white star on his face, who lay as though 
 one of his hind legs had been crushed perhaps by 
 some passing automobile, earlier in the previous 
 day. The animal was a nondescript creature who 
 might have been of any variety of lineage one could 
 well imagine, and in size he was somewhere between 
 a setter and a Newfoundland. His coat was coarse 
 and short, and his tail, in direct contradiction, long 
 and bushy, with white fringes. Like half-moons his 
 eyes rolled at Pedro, and without hesitation the long 
 muzzle was laid into his hand. At the touch Pedro's 
 heart leaped. 
 
 "Good dog!" he said huskily. "What shall we do 
 about it, old fellow, eh?" 
 
 The dog whined a little, and snuggled closer. 
 Pedro put an arm about him. Beyond the gothic 
 arch of the vestibule fell the mottled white curtain 
 of the snow, now steadily, now waveringly, furled 
 by the wind. Pedro arose. 
 
 "Come on, boy !" he said. 
 
 The dog made a pitiful effort to rise and follow 
 him, but failing, sank back upon the steps with a 
 whimper. Pedro looked about him despairingly, 
 but no help was in sight. Never once did it occur to
 
 SNOW AND DOGS AND THINGS 319 
 
 him to abandon the animal to its fate ; the only thing 
 that troubled him was a method of taking the 
 beast home. The dog was plainly too much hurt to 
 walk. Then it must be carried. With a sigh he 
 stooped and lifted it into his arms, a by no means 
 easy accomplishment, for the dog was at least half 
 his own size, and heavy at that. After a yelp or two 
 it submitted quietly to this operation, seeming to 
 understand that the move was for the best, and with 
 this new impediment Pedro staggered out into the 
 street and again began his homeward journey. 
 
 It was a heavy task he had undertaken, and sev- 
 eral times he was obliged to pause and seat himself 
 in some doorway for a moment or two, and before he 
 had arrived half-way to his destination it began to 
 seem to him that he could get no farther. Then, as 
 he arose for a final effort, he raised his eyes to the 
 building before which he had last rested, and rec- 
 ognized it as Leigh's dwelling-place. Furthermore, 
 there was a light in the sculptor's window. With a 
 breathless exclamation he clambered up the steps 
 and pounded on the door. 
 
 It was several minutes before the janitor re- 
 sponded, and when he found that he had been sum- 
 moned from his comfortable basement chamber for
 
 320 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 the sole purpose of admitting "that dago boy an' a 
 fierce old cur" he flatly refused to help in the ani- 
 mal's removal to the upper regions. So Pedro did 
 it alone, and reached Leigh's door breathless and ex- 
 hausted. At his knock, the door flew wide, reveal- 
 ing Leigh, clad in an old brown dressing-gown and 
 slippers, his pipe, as usual, hanging reversed from 
 the corner of his mouth. 
 
 "What the devil " began the sculptor. 
 
 "The dog he's badly hurt!" exclaimed Pedro 
 excitedly. "I couldn't carry him any farther, so I 
 brought him in. Let us make him a bed by the stove, 
 quickly !" 
 
 "All right, Doc!" replied Leigh, gathering up 
 sofa cushions indiscriminately, "we'll fix him up." 
 
 For twenty minutes they fussed over the animal, 
 and when they had done their best for it, and it had 
 gone to sleep with its head upon Leigh's rolled-up 
 overcoat, the two shook hands. 
 
 "When did you get back?" asked Pedro. 
 
 "Only to-night. I went around to your place at 
 dinner-time, but it was locked. Where have you 
 been?" 
 
 And then Pedro, keeping back nothing but Iris'
 
 SNOW AND DOGS AND THINGS 321 
 
 attitude toward himself, gave Leigh a full account of 
 the week's adventures. When he had done, there 
 was a long silence, during which Leigh sat staring 
 into the fire, as though obsessed by some idea that 
 he was unable to shake off. When at length he 
 spoke, Pedro thought that the deep voice had never 
 been so resonant and sympathetic. 
 
 "Sorry I wasn't here," said he, "and as for this 
 about your mother I don't have to tell you to call 
 on me, do I ?" 
 
 Not a question did he put, not a word of praise ; 
 but there was a look in the strange eyes, and a note 
 in the rich voice that meant more to Pedro than 
 the greatest eloquence. 
 
 "When I decide what course I am going to take, 
 I shall let you know," said Pedro in a low tone. "I 
 am glad you understand that I am not deserting 
 her, or shirking. Why, I would die for her, if she 
 would gain anything by it. I am not afraid to die." 
 
 "That is no boast!" replied Leigh, with a tender 
 laugh at the youthfulness of this speech. "Every 
 one is competent to die; who, though, is competent 
 to live? The simplest problems of life are so diffi- 
 cult if one is honest in considering them."
 
 322 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 "Yes," said Pedro, "the problem of the universe is 
 in every minor point of difference." 
 
 "True enough; it is appalling!" 
 
 "Not if one dismisses the problems with ridicule!" 
 said Pedro. 
 
 "Paugh ! ridicule is the last resort of the unreason- 
 ing !" retorted Abraham Lincoln Leigh. 
 
 "You are too epigrammatic for me to-night," said 
 Pedro, rising, "and I am very tired too tired to 
 floor you with a brilliant retort." 
 
 Leigh laughed. 
 
 "Hold on a minute, though," said he, "there's one 
 thing I must get off my chest before I turn in to- 
 night. I've been meaning to say it and, indeed, have 
 started to several times, but always forgot, some- 
 how." 
 
 "Well, what is it?" asked Pedro, smiling. "I'm 
 old enough to hear it, I guess, eh ?" 
 
 Leigh smiled up at him through a cloud of tobacco 
 smoke. "It is the dream of the very young to be old 
 and steeped in sin," said he, "even as it is the dream 
 of the old to be young and innocent." 
 
 "A truism, not an epigram," commented Pedro. 
 "But what is the solemn communication ?" 
 
 "It's about Miss Vanderpool," replied Leigh, his
 
 SNOW AND DOGS AND THINGS 323 
 
 smile fading. "You see her too often, and it won't 
 do ! Are you not aware that she is engaged, or as 
 good as engaged, to the very man who has made it 
 possible for you to know her. Don't do it, boy, it's 
 not fair!" 
 
 "How would you have me act? I am painting 
 her." 
 
 "Don't see her at other times, then." 
 
 "Eh? Not go near her? Polite, wouldn't that 
 be!" exclaimed Pedro, just for the wickedness of 
 leading Leigh on. 
 
 "You know what I mean," said Leigh, and he was 
 watching Pedro very closely as he spoke. "When, 
 for instance, do you expect to see her next?" 
 
 "To-morrow night at the Milligans' masquerade," 
 replied Pedro. "She will be there." 
 
 "Then don't go!" exclaimed Leigh. "I hate to 
 flatter you, Pedro, but you are not without attrac- 
 tions." 
 
 Pedro lighted a cigarette. 
 
 "I think I shall go," he said, eying the smoke 
 meditatively, his handsome head cocked to one side; 
 his eyes half-closed, and a queer little smile playing 
 about his lips. 
 
 Leigh swore an oath.
 
 324 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 "Don't be a cad!" he said shortly, arising. 
 
 Pedro grew solemn at his tone, and yet a wicked 
 spark lingered in the depths of his eyes. Going up 
 to Leigh, the boy placed a hand on the giant's 
 shoulder and stood looking up at him. 
 
 "I don't know quite what that cad you say is," he 
 said ; "but from the way you speak of it, I am sure it 
 is not good to be one. Yet, I am going to that party, 
 and simply in order to see the Madonna Lady. And 
 in telling you this, after what you have said about 
 Hill, I must beg you to believe that no matter how 
 often I should see her, there would be no disloyalty 
 in it to my benefactor. Such treachery as you sug- 
 gest would, in my case, be absolutely impossible, for 
 more reasons than I can explain, or you could pos- 
 sibly guess. An affair with her is totally impossible 
 for me. Will you not believe this, amigo miof" 
 
 As he spoke his face had grown more and more 
 grave, and at the end he seemed struggling to hide 
 some deep emotion. Very seriously and intently 
 Leigh watched his face until he had ceased to speak. 
 
 "Very well, I'll believe you," he said finally, "but 
 it's a tricky dangerous matter, and mark my words, 
 you'll be sorry if you run your head into her trap; 
 she's a charming young woman !"
 
 SNOW AND DOGS AND THINGS 325 
 
 "Yes !" said Pedro. "And now I must go." 
 
 "Go !" cried Leigh in amazement. "In this storm? 
 What nonsense, man ! Sleep here on the couch." 
 
 For reply Pedro seized his hat, a panicky expres- 
 sion blanching his face. 
 
 "No, no!" he said. "I must go!" 
 
 "But it's nearly morning!" objected Leigh. "Why 
 the devil shouldn't you stay?" 
 
 Pedro's fingers were on the latch. Hat in hand, 
 he flung back his answer. 
 
 "Because!" he replied and rushed out, banging 
 the door behind him. 
 
 For a long time Leigh sat looking at the closed 
 door, thinking hard, all the lines in his face spring- 
 ing into prominence as he bent upon his subject with 
 special concentration. 
 
 "Because!" he repeated aloud. "What a strange 
 answer. Because! Why? Why? Why?" Taking 
 a single impulsive step toward the door he flung his 
 arms out before him. 
 
 Then, like a blind man who had been suddenly 
 given sight, he staggered across the studio and flung 
 himself upon the couch.
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 A BYZANTINE PRINCESS 
 
 TIRED and disturbed in hea!rt and mind, 
 Pedro crept wearily up the long flights of 
 stairs to his apartment, and, as he paused upon the 
 landing next to the top, the little clock on Cassie's 
 mantel-shelf rang four clear silvery notes into the 
 dark silence of the musty stairway. With a sigh 
 he commanded his stiffened muscles for a final effort, 
 and mounted the last remaining flight of creaking 
 steps between him and bed. Ah \ grateful thought I 
 It made him hurry, and caused him to glance 
 eagerly toward his goal before the top step was 
 fairly reached. There he paused in surprise. 
 
 A light was shining out from beneath the door! 
 Could there be a burglar in the room? It would 
 scarcely be a visitor, at such an hour, and in any 
 event, how could a guest have obtained admission? 
 It was very puzzling! Cautiously he crept over to 
 the door without making any noise, and putting his 
 ear to the panel, listened intently. No sound ! Who- 
 
 326
 
 A BYZANTINE PRINCESS 327 
 
 ever they were, they were quiet enough ! But who 
 could it possibly be? Of his friends, there was 
 none save Leigh who would possibly visit him at 
 such a time, and Leigh was at home, and doubtless 
 asleep by now. As this seemed to eliminate all other 
 possibilities, it must be an intruder who was burning 
 his oil. Once convinced of this, Pedro, being tired 
 of fighting, and having had his fill of battle for a 
 long time to come, was loath to bring a new row 
 down upon his head. Again he listened at the door, 
 and at first heard nothing but the distant roar of the 
 elevated cars, and the tense 'audible' silence of the 
 sleeping tenement. Then a faint stirring and was 
 it a sigh ? came to him from within the room. This 
 was a sound not to be withstood, and, very gently, 
 he turned the door-knob, at the same time fitting in 
 his latch-key. Then, with a swift stealthy move- 
 ment that was like a panther's maneuver, he opened 
 the door a crack, slid through, and quickly closing it 
 after him, stood motionless with his back against it. 
 A curious scene met his gaze. 
 
 Two old Spanish lamps that hung from the ceiling 
 had been lighted, and on the hearth glowed the em- 
 bers of a dying fire. By the soft red light of these 
 the room took shape, and gigantic shadows stirred in
 
 328 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 the corners. A heavy scent of fresh flowers and of 
 flowers that were dead hung in the air, and he could 
 see that some of the many blossoms about had been 
 there for days. Others were fresh, as though newly 
 arrived. On the card receptacle lay a small package 
 and a note, and on top of these lay a single glove 
 a long white suede, crumpled and soiled. On the 
 model throne stood a basket of rare fruits, undis- 
 turbed from their original packing, but showing 
 some sign of wilting. Evidently the gifts that Iris 
 had grown into the habit of sending had not ceased 
 to arrive during his absence, and had been carefully 
 bestowed by the janitor. But who had lighted the 
 lamps and kindled the fire? 
 
 At first the apartment seemed unoccupied, but a 
 second glance showed this impression to be a mis- 
 taken one, for even as he turned toward the couch, 
 there was a gentle stirring among the cushions and 
 one of them, jarring a stand full of long-stemmed 
 roses near by, sent a shower of crimson petals flutter- 
 ing over the sleeping form of Iris herself. 
 
 "Dios!" whispered Pedro. 
 
 For a breath or two he stood staring down at her, 
 and then, being careful not to awaken her, he drew 
 up a large armchair to the opposite side of the
 
 A BYZANTINE PRINCESS 329 
 
 hearth, and dropping into it, sat regarding her in- 
 tently, his hands clasped about his knees, his head 
 bowed. How strange and lovely this woman was, 
 who lay among the learning shadows, the rose-petals 
 dropping upon her! All desire for sleep had fled 
 now, leaving him keyed up to a highly nervous pitch, 
 his brain abnormally active from over-tire. 
 
 That Iris had been at a ball or festivity of some 
 sort was plain from the gown she wore; a thin 
 gauzy stuff made heavy and clinging with silver 
 spangles, and low-cut, so that it showed her gleam- 
 ing white shoulders and the swell of her bosom. In 
 her red-gold hair was a jeweled fillet. Over this 
 gorgeousness she had thrown on the blue robe in 
 which she was wont to pose for him, and its classic 
 folds, concealing yet revealing the jeweled gauze 
 beneath, gave her an appearance that was far from 
 saintly. Rather, she seemed to be some princess of 
 ancient Babylon, resting on the rose-strewn couch 
 of a court feast, while the torches flickered and flared 
 in the darkness before dawn. 
 
 It was a thought that pleased him, and, fever- 
 ishly his tired brain completed the metamorphosis. 
 
 Her hair seemed washed with melted gold, after 
 the manner of the ancients, and her carmine lips,
 
 330 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 half parted over the little, even white teeth, might 
 have been stained with henna, so red they were so 
 very red like a wounded poppy and her skin was 
 so very, very white, yet creamy, too. Had she stolen 
 that wonderful color from the carved ivories on the 
 palace walls? And when the black slaves waited 
 upon her, and knelt before her with basins of per- 
 fume and jars of scented oil for her rose-tipped fin- 
 gers was she not most wondrously white, then? 
 Had not their bodies been created black only that 
 their swarthiness might prove how fair she was? 
 The curve of her delicate nostril was cruel . . . 
 and her mouth was tremulous with unconscious pas- 
 sion. Upon what captive creature would she lavish 
 the force of her maiden affections ? A tamed chetah, 
 perhaps, fringed of ear and treacherous, whose 
 wicked green eyes would feast upon the pulsing col- 
 umn of her throat the while he licked her hand 
 ... a royal chetah, such as the mighty princes take 
 forth in golden cages, and turn loose upon the ter- 
 rified slim-ankled antelopes, the antelopes with little 
 flecks upon their bodies . . . white flecks that 
 were soft and clear like the down on the slender neck 
 of Iris.
 
 A BYZANTINE PRINCESS 331 
 
 "Princess of the past ages," he murmured softly, 
 "your soul shines through the flesh of to-day !" 
 
 Around her slender little feet the blue drapery 
 had caught. Those little feet! To look at her one 
 must believe that they had danced on marble floors; 
 strange floors, wherein each piece was of a different 
 color, and none was larger than the coin that 
 bore the head of Caesar. . . . Had not the torches 
 flared from the porphyry columns, and the hot wind 
 from the desert tossed their flames in harmony with 
 her floating veils of gauze? . . . The long thin 
 horns of the black musicians blared their brazen 
 notes, and the women smote their lyres. Between 
 the vast columns, whose tops were lost in the dark- 
 ness of the high ceiling, the courtiers and slaves 
 stood to watch her, fearfully, and as they watched, 
 were slaves in very truth, Roman and Nubian alike, 
 and even the temple-servers, with their oiled and 
 curling beards. . . . Like light thrown from a 
 prism glass she danced before the straining love- 
 smitten eyes of the tetrarch; her electric body 
 wrapped in an ever-changing veil of filmy cloud, 
 star-spangled, and oh, the tender twinkling feet, the 
 fluttering little feet, so white, so pearly white, and
 
 332 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 tipped with pink. . . . The elusive dancing feet 
 that sped among the rose-petals, among the poppy 
 petals, across the curious marble floor. . . . 
 
 He sighed and closed his eyes. 
 
 Outside was surely a strange moon-filled scene 
 some terraced landscape steeped in night! In the 
 door that led out to it would be hung a great cur- 
 tain, heavy with tapestried designs of crude, keenly 
 articulated men, of strange implements of war, and 
 lions that had human heads and wings. Beyond, a 
 garden, a garden rich in spices and rare fruits, and 
 in its midst a pool, motionless as the sleeping peli- 
 cans upon its margin, wherein the lotus grew tall and 
 firm, and lifted wide-mouthed chalices to the moon. 
 . . . Below, flat roofs in terraces, lower and lower, 
 tier upon tier, to where the lions roared faintly from 
 the desert; to where the silver streak of the river 
 showed gleaming far below the balustrade of the 
 hanging garden. And over all the benediction of 
 the moon; the subtle, discreet, voluptuous moon 
 . . . and silence, silence. . . . Within the pal- 
 ace, gutting torches, the strewn remainder of the 
 feast, trampled flowers and bruised fruit, the heavy 
 scent of spilled wine, and perfumed tresses unloosed, 
 the canopying shadows of the stone roof, the waiting
 
 A BYZANTINE PRINCESS 333 
 
 couch, silk draped and soft, the weary dancer, crim- 
 son-mouthed . . . the drawn curtain, heavy with 
 strange embroideries, that would hang straight 
 and guarding until the winds of dawn. . . . 
 
 Pedro arose, and bending over her, brushed a 
 new-fallen petal from her lips. And Iris awoke, 
 looking at him with love in her eyes. 
 
 "I knew you would come to-night," she said 
 smiling. "Something told me so !" 
 
 She held out her hands, and he assisted her to a 
 sitting posture. 
 
 "How did you get here?" he asked. 
 
 "I was at a ball, my own carriage was not to call 
 for me, and I directed the cabby to bring me here. 
 You are not angry?" 
 
 "Not angry," he repeated. "Who let you in?" 
 
 "It was the caretaker, he has a key." 
 
 "Ah ! Yes ! And the flowers you did not know 
 I was away?" 
 
 "I have telephoned every day, but to-night to- 
 night I felt somehow that I must see the room, at 
 least, and the things you handle, or I should . . . 
 I must have fallen asleep. . . . But are you not 
 going to greet me?" 
 
 "What made you think I would be here to-night?"
 
 334 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 he asked, his voice still low and level. "I did not 
 know it myself." 
 
 ' "I was not sure, of course!" she protested. "It 
 was only that I felt you might be, and I oh ! I was 
 mad to come, I suppose, and you will think me 
 . . . yet, I could not stay away. Something 
 seemed calling and calling me! Are you not glad 
 to see me? I oh! say you are glad, for I am so 
 ashamed!" She had arisen and stood before him 
 with downcast head. 
 
 "Why?" said Pedro. 
 
 "Ah! If you need to ask that, then I am not 
 ashamed!" she cried. "You always understand! I 
 knew you would . . . that is, if you were here 
 at all!" 
 
 "This time I do not quite understand, Madonna," 
 said Pedro, "but you are very gracious. Will you 
 not be seated?" 
 
 He pulled the large chair forward, but she seemed 
 not to see it, and sank back upon the divan. 
 
 "Sit beside me," she commanded. And he obeyed, 
 choosing a spot some length from her. 
 
 "I was frightened when I came in here," she con- 
 fessed. "The studio is so vast at night, and so full of 
 shadows, and then, coming up the stairs . . .
 
 A BYZANTINE PRINCESS 335 
 
 that is, the unusut^ness of it all, you know ! And I 
 have been so worried about you !" 
 
 "But why ?" he asked again. 
 
 "The paper that I signed!" she laughed nerv- 
 ously, her fingers straying to the truant locks of his 
 hair. "The paper, and the mad way in which you 
 seized upon it. Then this mysterious absence with- 
 out warning. And yet I knew you would return ; my 
 presence here proves my faith in your ability to win 
 out. Have you any news ?" 
 
 "Not yet," he said, thinking it best to let Hill 
 tell his own story in his own time. "But tell me, 
 Madonna Lady, is it conventional in America for 
 young ladies in society to go about alone at such an 
 hour as this?" 
 
 He was watching her intently as he spoke, and she, 
 wondering how innocent the speech was, felt the hot 
 blood mounting to her forehead. 
 
 "No no !" she stammered, "but we . . . surely 
 you understand ! No one keeps account of my com- 
 ing or going, and as far as my household is con- 
 cerned, I might easily be at the dance until even later 
 than this! Then we are such we have been such 
 good friends, surely we are different. The ordi- 
 nary conventions do not concern us."
 
 336 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 "Don't they?" he asked softly. "Not me, poor 
 waif, perhaps but you! The world is small and 
 full of gossiping tongues." 
 
 "The world is idiotic !" she declared tremulously. 
 "It never believes in friendship between men and 
 women !" 
 
 There was a tense pause. He was leaning toward 
 her now, and her breath was coming fast. The very 
 air pulsed with the situation, and he could feel how 
 fear and passion fought within her for the mastery ; 
 how tradition and the world-force were striving to- 
 gether. Then he spoke, and the words fell sharp as 
 knives upon the thick emotion that she had con- 
 jured up. 
 
 "Are we friends?" 
 
 The question held much more than the spoken 
 query. It was a denial, and a challenge. At once it 
 dismissed the possibility, the pretense of a friendship 
 between them, and declared her his supplicant, de- 
 manded her confession. It was a tightening of the 
 already taut string upon which they had been harp- 
 ing, and which, at another twist, must surely snap. 
 
 Oh, the terrible, the sweetly fearsome portent 
 which, to Iris, the little sentence seemed to bear!
 
 A BYZANTINE PRINCESS 337 
 
 Her heart beat to suffocation, and it seemed as if 
 she must swoon for very ecstacy at what would 
 surely follow. Intensely sensitive to his nearness, 
 to the dramatic setting, to the strangeness of the 
 hour an hour when all waking humanity is keyed 
 to the highest emotional pitch, she waited in painful 
 yet delightful expectancy. The dear expectancy of 
 the moment hovered like perfume before her dis- 
 tended nostrils, like color before her half-closed eyes. 
 
 "Are we friends?" 
 
 Her voice was low and vibrant as she made her 
 reply, her words, like his, carrying a double meaning 
 that was equally apparent to them both, under its 
 pretense of being matter-of-fact. 
 
 "I don't feel very much like a 'friend' of yours," 
 she said. 
 
 "How do you feel, then ?" he asked gently. 
 
 "How do I feel?" she cried. "I feel like like 
 this!" 
 
 And slipping from the sofa before he could pre- 
 vent her, she fell upon her knees in front of him, 
 and clasping her hands as if in worship, gazed up 
 at him adoringly, almost touching him as she knelt. 
 
 "That is how I feel," said Iris.
 
 338 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 "Don't, don't !" said Pedro in a broken voice. 
 
 "I love you !" said Iris. "Why, you surely know it 
 you must have seen it !" 
 
 She spoke with the glad note of one who confesses 
 what they believe to be the most desired of facts. 
 
 "Don't !" Pedro pleaded again. 
 
 "But why should I not?" she asked radiantly. 
 "I love you! Do you not like to hear me say it? 
 Does not my having come here in this manner prove 
 it?" 
 
 "No !" he cried in agony, springing to his feet as 
 though to defend himself from something. "No, it 
 proves nothing of the kind. You do not, can not 
 love me! It is impossible, impossible. I have already 
 told you so. Ah ! I can not endure to have you act 
 so ! And this is Hill's own room !" 
 
 "But I do love you !" she cried, following him. 
 "Pedro ! touch me tell me that you care ! Kiss me, 
 Pedro!" 
 
 "Never!" he said fiercely. "You do not love me 
 you love Hill! Yes, yes, you do, although you do 
 not realize it. I am really nothing to you but a re- 
 action a pastime !" 
 
 "That is not true !" she sobbed. 
 
 "It is!" he shrilled. "You have loved Hill all
 
 A BYZANTINE PRINCESS 339 
 
 along ! Me! Why, it is out of the question that you 
 should care for me. It is against Nature! The at- 
 mosphere of the studio is what you love here, the in- 
 formality, the careless freedom; but, me ah! no. 
 You love Love itself primarily, and to-night it has 
 mastered you. But the man whom you love is 
 Hill." 
 
 "Ah ! so you care nothing for me, after all !" she 
 moaned. "But I am past pride; kiss me, Pedro!" 
 
 "I will not!" he cried, retreating from her. "I 
 love you in my own way as much as I can love any 
 woman but I will not kiss you ! You are mad to- 
 night. It is the environment, the situation, not me, 
 that has so aroused you. You must go home !" 
 
 "Kiss me, Pedro," said Iris with outstretched 
 arms. 
 
 Roughly he flung her away. 
 
 "Listen!" he commanded, "you don't know what 
 you are doing. You are nothing but an infatuated 
 little animal to-night. You no more love me than 
 you love that lamp than the hovering moth loves 
 it! There is a splendid man who does love you, and 
 you return his affection, although you do not appear 
 to be conscious of it; but take warning and open 
 your eyes to the fact. Do so before you succeed in
 
 340 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 singeing your wings at some such earth-fire as you 
 have tried to light to-night! Love is a sacred, a 
 wonderful thing, and it comes to us but once; 
 Heaven forgive us if we fail to recognize it then, 
 and desecrate or lose it. And heaven have mercy 
 on the torments we shall endure in such a pass. 
 Guard your love as a pure flame upon the highest 
 altar of your individuality; keep it in that secret 
 inner chamber wherein is hid the force which links 
 you to your fellow-beings, and which is called the 
 soul. . . . Listen to me! With every kiss you 
 give lightly, you rob, not only your true lover, but 
 your true self. Each small affair will make the 
 great one less great. Believe me, to make com- 
 parisons is unavoidable. How, then, will it be, 
 when the dear one kisses you, to say to yourself the 
 while, 'Harry did it differently, Tony did it such a 
 way, and Pedro, too, he had a style but this is bet- 
 ter !' Will it not belittle that so sacred kiss, eh ? And 
 do you think you could avoid making such a com- 
 parison, eh? Ah! Madonna! take no lesser loves; 
 wait for the great one, though you die a maiden ; it 
 is better so !" 
 
 But she had not been listening.
 
 A BYZANTINE PRINCESS 34' 
 
 "Kiss me!" said she. 
 
 "No!" cried Pedro. 
 
 "Touch me, then!" she cried wildly. "Take my 
 hand anything! I am mad for the touch of your 
 hand!" 
 
 "Will you not listen to reason?" he implored. "I 
 can not endure that you should belittle yourself so ! 
 I can not love you as you wish, and again I repeat, 
 you do not love me : I have been nothing but a re- 
 action a spite, perhaps, a vent for your emotions. 
 You are led on only by passion. There! I have 
 spoken it. Say what you will, it is the truth. I am 
 sorry, but I know not how to drape such matters with 
 prudery." 
 
 She gasped a little, and then came to him sway- 
 ingly, and placed her hands upon his shoulders, the 
 blue cloak sweeping about her seductively. The scar- 
 let mouth was raised toward him. 
 
 "I do not care !" she breathed. "You may not love 
 me but I love you! Take me if you will, on any 
 terms. I am ready." 
 
 Silence. Then 
 
 "It is impossible!" he ejaculated. 
 
 Another short pause.
 
 342 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 "Why did you lead me on to speak?" she de- 
 manded, a note of anger creeping into her voice. 
 
 "Because I knew it had to come. The sooner the 
 matter was explained the better," he answered. 
 
 "But you are making no explanation," she com- 
 plained tenderly. "Come! I shall not let you go un- 
 til you do !" 
 
 And she slid her hands down to his, gripping them 
 tightly. 
 
 "I can not!" 
 
 "But you shall!" she insisted. "What is this mys r 
 terious reason why you can not love me why it is 
 impossible?. Tell it to me ! I will prove to you that 
 it is a mere phantom ! For despite what you say I 
 know that I mean a great deal to you. I see it in 
 your eyes ! Only tell me what it is and I will prove 
 that this monstrous difficulty can be overcome !" 
 
 "I can not tell you," said Pedro wearily, "and even 
 if I did, you would be helpless to alter it." 
 
 A sudden alarm blanched her face. 
 
 "You love another woman ?" she whispered. 
 
 "I love no other woman," he told her. 
 
 She drew a deep sigh of relief. 
 
 "Ah! then it can be overcome!" she said. "Tell 
 me, what is it?"
 
 A BYZANTINE PRINCESS 343 
 
 "I can not tell." 
 
 "You must!" 
 
 "I will not. It is my secret!" 
 
 "I will keep it!" 
 
 "You would intend to, I know, but I dare trust no 
 one." 
 
 "This is unfair to me!" cried Iris. "You torture 
 me, and yet you give me no reason for doing so." 
 
 Pedro drew a long breath. If it was unfair to her, 
 why then . . . 
 
 "I will tell you," he said unhappily. 
 
 The world was very still. One by one the lamps 
 had guttered and burned out till only a single taper 
 was left, and the embers on the hearth were dead. 
 The room was very cold, and strangely silent, as 
 she waited, with bated breath. Through the great 
 skylight the first faint blue of dawn was creeping in, 
 making the vast apartment weird, unfamiliar; and a 
 chill odor of snow was in the air. Would he never 
 speak? The silence seemed interminable. But at last 
 he raised his head and looked at her with great un- 
 happy eyes that reproached her for the tribute she 
 exacted. Then his lips formed words that refused 
 to make themselves heard. He ran his red tongue 
 out to moisten them. Then he tried again.
 
 344 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 "It is because I am not a man !" he articulated. 
 "Not a man !" she gasped. "God in heaven, what 
 do you mean?" 
 
 "That I am a girl," said Pedro miserably.
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 PLOTS 
 
 NOW on the evening of that day upon which 
 Pedro first learned of Hill's disappearance, 
 and shutting the studio door behind him, sallied 
 forth in the wake of the anxious Guneviere, the 
 ground floor of the Muldoon Place house served 
 to stage a curious scene. 
 
 It was past eight o'clock when the first actor ap- 
 peared, and entering the large old-fashioned parlor, 
 proceeded to light the lamp upon the center table. 
 It was Rowe, or Ricardo Valdez himself, and the 
 anxious manner in which he glanced at the clock be- 
 trayed the fact that he was expecting the arrival of 
 some one. After he had settled the light to his satis- 
 faction, he went to a small safe that occupied one 
 corner of the room, and taking a key from his 
 watch-chain, worked the combination, and presently 
 swung open the heavy door. 
 
 He knelt before the open safe, and extracting 
 a little packet of official-looking documents, pro- 
 
 345
 
 346 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 ceeded to compare one of them with another which 
 he took from his breast pocket. The comparison 
 seemed to satisfy him, for presently he put all 
 back in their pigeonhole, including that which he 
 had been carrying, and then looked at the clock 
 again. It still wanted a moment or two to the hour of 
 his appointment, and he utilized these to place in se- 
 curity a considerable sum of money in bank notes. 
 Then the door-bell tinkled, and hastily locking the 
 safe, he arose to answer the summons. 
 
 The man who stood, hat in hand, at the entrance 
 was none other than he, who, in disguise of a way- 
 farer, had attempted to rob Iris on the lonely road 
 that autumn day, long past. Now he was shaved, 
 garbed in the inconspicuous clothing of respecta- 
 bility, and it would have taken a second glance to tell 
 the chance observer that the face was untrustworthy. 
 Rowe made a welcoming gesture, and the man 
 stepped in, laying aside his outer garments. 
 
 "I am the first, I see," said he in the same lan- 
 guage. "Why do we meet here? Is it safe?" 
 
 "Hill may be missed," explained Rowe, "and we 
 are certainly being watched. Consequently, this 
 place is safer than any other. To all appearances it 
 will merely be an evening party. Any news ?"
 
 PLOTS 347 
 
 "Yes," said the other, "I have something for you." 
 
 "Give it to me before the others come," said Rowe 
 nervously. "It is from Venezuela, of course." 
 
 "Certainly!" said the other, "and fortunate it is 
 for you, my friend, that I am in the employ of the 
 post-office of the United States. Otherwise it is 
 scarcely likely that the millionaire asphalt contrac- 
 tor's greetings from the Venezuelan government 
 would come into your hands." 
 
 "You are well paid," retorted Rowe, "and in the 
 future you shall be paid even better, but of that later. 
 Let me see what they say. Of late it has been very 
 difficult to alter the communications in such a way 
 as to render them sufficiently antipathetic. They are 
 growing rather friendly toward him, and on several 
 occasions I have been obliged to suppress letters en- 
 tirely. That one which you allowed to reach him 
 was nearly fatal to our plans." 
 
 "But you repaired the damage!" 
 
 "With infinite risk and pains!" retorted Rowe. 
 "Although I have opened and altered so many epis- 
 tles both of his and theirs and have become pretty 
 expert. You must remember that the man we are 
 dealing with at this end, at least, is no fool." 
 
 "Yes, Vanderpool is no fool !" agreed the man.
 
 348 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 "Hush! No names, I beg!" warned Rowe, "and 
 lower your voice, my friend." Then he continued in 
 a more composed tone. "It is essential that he should 
 go on believing that we are necessary to his success. 
 Once he discovered that the Venezuelan secretary 
 of commerce would be willing to treat with him di- 
 rect, we should lose our hold upon him, and with 
 him, our chances of improving our fortunes! But 
 come, let us see your latest find !" 
 
 The man fished for a moment in the inside pocket 
 of his coat, and then brought out a letter similar in 
 appearance to those that Rowe had concealed in 
 the safe. The latter took it eagerly, and examined 
 the seal. Then, going to the alcove where a number 
 of dishes and arrangements for light housekeeping 
 were stowed, he lighted an alcohol burner of great 
 power. After heating a small instrument in the al- 
 most invisible flame, he skilfully removed the seal 
 and in another moment the letter lay open before 
 him. As he read, the crease between his eyes deep- 
 ened. Then his face cleared. 
 
 "This will give little trouble!" he exclaimed. 
 " 'Can' must be changed to 'can not', and there is 
 plenty of space in which to do so. Then it will ap- 
 pear to our patron that the Honorable Don Juan del
 
 PLOTS 349 
 
 Costa can not agree to do as he is asked in the little 
 matter of bringing the asphalt question before the 
 government ! Well, to-morrow will do for that! The 
 envelope has not been stamped at this end, I see." 
 
 "Of course not!" said the other. "Who is that?" 
 
 A second time the bell tinkled, and Rowe put the 
 letter in his breast, carefully preserving its fasten- 
 ings. 
 
 "It must be Casablanca and the captain," he re- 
 plied. "Do you admit them !" 
 
 The postal employee did as he was bid, and in an- 
 other moment there entered two men, both Latin in 
 type, one of them being the little officer whom Hill 
 had seen aboard the ship, and the other, a larger 
 man, who was the vessel's captain. At sight of Rowe 
 they bowed politely, a courtesy that was returned 
 with all possible formality, and then, the four hav- 
 ing drawn chairs up about the center table, the cap- 
 tain turned a swarthy face upon his host and put a 
 question. 
 
 "Signor Valdez," he began, "I presume that some- 
 thing of vital import has moved you to summon us 
 here to-night?" 
 
 "You are correct in your surmise," replied Rowe, 
 "and we shall come to the point without delay."
 
 350 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 The captain looked about him in surprise. 
 
 "But Vanderpool, he is not here !" he commented. 
 
 "No, for a reason that is of the best," declared 
 Rowe, "and Signor Captain, I beg that we do not 
 use the name it is more discreet." 
 
 "Ah!" replied the man addressed. "Then it is 
 
 some matter of which Mr. , the gentleman is 
 
 to have no knowledge?" 
 
 "You anticipate my meaning exactly," said Rowe. 
 
 "Well then, what is it?" asked the man who had 
 arrived first. 
 
 "My friends my very good friends," began 
 Rowe slowly, tracing the table-cloth designs with a 
 stiletto, which, in its capacity of paper-cutter, lay 
 at hand, "I shall tell you all ; but first let us review 
 the situation as it stands. To begin with, then, there 
 is to be a revolution in Venezuela, in which we are 
 engaged a fact that we are absorbed in to the ex- 
 clusion of all else at this time, being good patriots 
 all, and having the best interests of our splendid 
 country most sincerely at heart. Secondly, our 
 patron, who shall be nameless, is backing this pa- 
 triotic and righteous enterprise with his good Amer- 
 ican dollars. Now, to those interested and active in 
 this most glorious undertaking, he has represented
 
 PLOTS 35i 
 
 frankly that he is not so much interested in the over- 
 throw of the present rotten and corrupt government 
 because it is such an iniquitous administration, as 
 because of his immense asphalt interests there, and 
 the disproportionate export-tax which is at present 
 being put upon it, and which a clean new govern- 
 ment would promise in advance to diminish. All this 
 he has told you and it is true as far as it goes. But 
 there is another and a deeper interest which is the 
 real motive behind his assistance, and which is 
 known to me alone; more, without my holding out 
 this interest as bait to him, there would be no money 
 forthcoming, and consequently, no revolution at all !" 
 
 There was a moment of stupefied surprise. Then 
 the captain brought his fist down upon the table 
 resonantly. 
 
 "What do you say ! No revolution ! Are you try- 
 ing to make fools of us, or do you really hold such 
 a secret ? Come, no playing, we are busy men !" 
 
 "I have made no exaggeration of the truth, 
 senors," replied Rowe. "And it will take but little 
 time to prove as much. Let us speak of Senora 
 Daussa!" 
 
 "Ah ! the brave and noble senora !" exclaimed the 
 little officer fervently. "It is she, whose presence
 
 352 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 among us and whose interest in our cause, gives us 
 the so much needed courage! Whose immense popu- 
 larity will be of such value to us !" 
 
 "Wait!" said Rowe. "Let me inform you, first of 
 all, that the honored signora knows no more of this 
 revolution than this table does !" 
 
 "Knows nothing of the plans ! Why, Valdez, is it 
 not her interest which has banded us together, 
 which ," began the captain. 
 
 "Her interest ! You have only my word for that," 
 said Rowe. "You have never not one of you 
 spoken a single syllable with her on the subject!" 
 
 It was too true. Save for that one interview, when 
 little or nothing had been said, Signora Daussa's 
 sympathy and support had been taken entirely upon 
 hearsay, furnished only by Rowe and Sancho. 
 
 "This is most extraordinary !" exclaimed the cap- 
 tain in bewilderment. "Will you please to explain 
 this action of yours in so deceiving us and further- 
 more, what bearing it has upon Vanderpool?" 
 
 "The last is the easiest to reply to," replied Rowe, 
 "and, therefore, to take it first. What bearing has it 
 upon Vanderpool ? Good captain, she is the bait!" 
 
 "Dios!" exclaimed the first man. There was a 
 pause, then :
 
 PLOTS 353 
 
 "Is it permitted to ask how?" said the captain with 
 exaggerated politeness. 
 
 "But certainly," replied Rowe cheerfully. "Van- 
 derpool has been in love with her for years ; he be- 
 lieves her to be a prisoner in Venezuela. / alone of 
 his acquaintances know exactly where she is! Ha! 
 ha ! behold your revolution ! It is very simple." 
 
 "And she! How do you hold her, and where?" 
 demanded the captain, his face purpling ominously. 
 "How comes she to be with you?" 
 
 "That is soon told at least, part of it," said Rowe, 
 who, for hidden reasons of his own seemed bent on 
 making a considerable confession. "She also has 
 been in love with him for many years, and I am sup- 
 posed to be assisting her to find him. Find him, 
 while all the time I am in constant touch with him ! 
 Meanwhile, I tell her that the search is hopeless 
 that I can not find this lover of hers ! Ah ! ah !" 
 
 "And where is she?" growled the captain, never 
 taking his eyes from Rowe. 
 
 "That is another question," snapped Rowe. "That 
 is something that I do not intend to answer, save 
 that you are not likely to learn." 
 
 "Then in the devil's name, what is your scheme 
 what do you want to do?" roared the captain. "First
 
 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 you mislead us into joining the revolution on the 
 strength of Signora Daussa's influence, proposing to 
 make her son president, even as his idolized father 
 was ; and now that we are in too deep to withdraw, 
 you tell us that she knows nothing of the plot, and 
 by that, of course, intimate that she would not ap- 
 prove it ! You defraud Vanderpool, playing him and 
 the senora off against each other, and then, at the 
 eleventh hour you summon us and disclose this as- 
 tounding matter. What does it mean ? Explain, for 
 by the Holy Mother, you shall not leave this room 
 until you have done so !" 
 
 A subtle inscrutable smile played around the cor- 
 ners of Rowe's mouth, and he lighted a fresh cigar 
 with much deliberation before replying. Then he 
 looked the captain squarely in the eyes and his jaw 
 took on a determined set that made it seem squarer 
 than ever. 
 
 "I intend to be dictator of Venezuela," he said 
 very distinctly. 
 
 Again silence. On the old-fashioned marble man- 
 tle-shelf, an ornate little clock ticked loudly, and 
 from somewhere near at hand came a low moan, so 
 low and faint that none of the men heard it, pre-
 
 PLOTS 355 
 
 posessed as they were with the stupendous statement 
 that had just been made. 
 
 "And how do you intend going about attaining 
 this mild ambition?" asked the second officer with 
 mock courtesy. A look from Rowe cut him short, and 
 wiped the smile from his face. 
 
 "I have already gone about it," Rowe said in his 
 precise way. "It only remains for you gentlemen to 
 make a decision between the situations. On one 
 hand, you support me, lend me the power which 
 you control a no mean force as I am quite aware 
 and I will present you each with the official appoint- 
 ment which you most desire in the Venezuelan gov- 
 ernment you shall be ministers, admirals, premiers 
 even treasurers any thing you will, when once I 
 am seated in the presidential chair. On the other 
 hand, refuse, and I will simply bring my two turtle- 
 doves together, and there will be no revolution. 
 Mark my words the tariff on asphalt is only a mi- 
 nor issue with our friend. Once he has the lady, he'll 
 risk neither life nor money in our enterprise!" 
 
 "I do not believe you !" cried the second officer 
 hotly. "I think you are lying!" 
 
 Rowe looked straight at him, meeting him eye to 
 ye-
 
 356 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 "You know I am not lying," he responded slowly. 
 "Try it, if you doubt me !" 
 
 "You would be ruined if we did so and it proved 
 true," murmured the captain. 
 
 "I'd rather see us all ruined than fail of my pet 
 plan," rejoined Rowe. 
 
 A long silence followed, which was broken at last 
 by the captain, who arose with a sigh. 
 
 "Well, Valdez," said he, "you have got us at your 
 shall we say mercy ? I think the other gentlemen 
 will agree that there is nothing for us to do but con- 
 sent to help you, and incidentally, ourselves, if you 
 are to be trusted to fulfil your promises to us, which 
 I doubt. Any other course we may take seems even 
 more likely to land us in prison than this does." 
 
 One by one they agreed and then, with a regal 
 gesture, Rowe dismissed them. 
 
 "To-morrow we shall talk," he said. "I shall meet 
 you all here at ten o'clock in the evening. Mean- 
 while, sweet dreams of our future power." 
 
 Then, one by one, they left, stringing out down the 
 steps, and clanking across the little paved court, 
 leaving him alone. 
 
 "Gracias a Dios, that is over!" said he, stretching 
 luxuriously.
 
 PLOTS 357 
 
 "It is not over !" said a voice behind him. 
 
 He wheeled about, and there stood the sefiora, her 
 golden hair in disorder, her face white as death. 
 
 "I have been outside for ten minutes," she said, 
 "and I have heard everything!" 
 
 "Heard you you listened!" he stammered, the 
 room seeming to reel about him. 
 
 "Yes! I heard! I listened and I found out how 
 you have been deceiving me you, whom I have 
 trusted, whom I have loved as a friend of my heart, 
 whom I have put my faith in, and come away with 
 into this strange land. Oh! you have cheated and 
 reviled me, and I believed in you. You have lied to 
 me lied, lied, lied! About my lover you have lied, 
 about my country, about your patriotism you have 
 used me as a tool with which to accomplish your 
 own dishonorable ambitions ! Have you lied to me 
 about my child? Answer me! Is she dead, even as 
 you said ? Why does she write no more ? Tell me, do 
 you know ? Ah ! I would not believe you even if you 
 spoke, and yet, I must I must Where is my 
 lover? Where? Tell me! You shall tell me! I will 
 have the truth out of your lying throat!" 
 
 "Carmen!" he cried. "For the love of God be 
 quiet ! You are like a mad woman."
 
 358 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 "Mad!" she screamed. "Would you not be mad? 
 Tell me where he is, I say !" 
 
 "I will not!" he stormed. "Tell you do you think 
 / am mad also?" 
 
 "Then, if you do not tell me, I will leave you !" 
 she said through her teeth. 
 
 His eyes were bloodshot as he glared at her furi- 
 ously. 
 
 "You shall pay for this, you wild-cat !" he panted. 
 "I will tell you nothing! And you are a prisoner 
 from this moment !" 
 
 She gave a laugh, a terrible mirthless laugh, and 
 clenched her hands at her sides, rigidly. 
 
 "Again you lie!" she flung at him. "I am no pris- 
 oner ! I am going to find my lover !" 
 
 And turning swiftly, she flung open the door, 
 stepped out and closed it after her, locking it as she 
 did so. 
 
 "Carmen !" screamed Rowe, beating on the panels. 
 "Carmen ! I love you ! Come back, and I will help 
 you, Carmen!" 
 
 But Senora Carmen Daussa was gone, without 
 money, without English, without the least knowledge 
 of the city or of the way to turn gone in search of 
 her lover !
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 AND COUNTERPLOTS 
 
 WHEN Pedro and Sam Hill separated on the 
 night of their Jersey adventure, the latter 
 made straight for Jones Street, accompanied by 
 Beau- Jean, and upon reaching the refuge of the 
 rear tenement, tumbled into bed without more ado, 
 and for seven hours slept the sleep of the just, his 
 head upon an improvised pillow of quilting be- 
 neath which his hand grasped the precious document 
 that Iris, as he thought, had sent him. 
 
 Very possibly his repose would have continued for 
 a much longer period, had it not been for the ac- 
 tivity of Guneviere and Hermania in the room im- 
 mediately below. These ladies, their household du- 
 ties, as usual, entirely neglected, were loudly ap- 
 plauding Old Nita's efforts to instruct Koko in a 
 new accomplishment; namely, to use as cymbals the 
 lids of two fish-kettles strapped to his front paws. 
 
 Now the clash of cymbals, no matter how amateur- 
 ish and uncertain the performer's efforts, is not con- 
 
 359
 
 36o THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY, 
 
 ducive to slumber, to say the least of it ; and, there- 
 fore, with a groan of protest, Sam returned to con- 
 sciousness of all that had befallen him, and all that 
 was yet to be undertaken. While he washed and 
 shaved, he pondered deeply upon how he should set 
 about getting the information that Iris desired. As 
 he drew on his boots he still wondered, and uncer- 
 tainty did not cease with the knotting of a silk ban- 
 danna about his throat. But at about this point, hun- 
 ger began to distract his attention, and so, deciding 
 that he would be able to think more collectively upon 
 a full stomach, he descended to the flat below and 
 demanded to be fed. 
 
 Koko dropped to his all fours at this intrusion, 
 glad to be rid of the encumbering kettle-lids, which 
 Old Nita untied, grumbling at the interruption of 
 the lesson, but nevertheless delighted to see Hill. The 
 other two women bustled about and prepared food 
 for him, and soon he was munching ruminatively, 
 oblivious of, and impervious to, the questions that 
 they showered upon him. Upon a couch in the cor- 
 ner lay Anna, silent and pale, while Rico, who 
 lounged upon the foot of the couch, bent over and 
 whispered to her occasionally. For all the notice 
 they took of th other occupants of the dirty little
 
 AND COUNTERPLOTS 361 
 
 room, they might have been alone. At last, Hill's 
 attention was arrested by them, however, and he in- 
 quired if Anna were ill. 
 
 "No," replied Nita. "She is going to have a baby 
 in the spring, that is all, and she is getting so that 
 she will not let Rico out of her sight; nor will she 
 go out with him to dance the bear. How they will 
 live, I do not know, what with bringing no money 
 in, and such idleness ! They are a pair of fools, those 
 two. I am a very wicked woman, I am, but I really 
 do think they should get married now." 
 
 "Are they not married?" said Hill, surprised. 
 "Why not, do you suppose?" 
 
 Nita merely shrugged and turned away upon some 
 matter of her own. Hill, cup in hand, arose and ap- 
 proached the lovers. 
 
 "Bon jour" said he abruptly. "Why the devil 
 aren't you married?" 
 
 Rico looked up pleasantly, his smile ever ready 
 and friendly for the beloved Samhill. Then, as the 
 latter's words sank into the unknown depths of his 
 slow mind, a cloud crossed his handsome face. 
 
 "Married? Why, I do not really know, mon ami," 
 he responded slowly. "Anna why are we not mar- 
 ried?"
 
 362 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 For a moment she looked as bewildered as Rico, 
 and then a smile of understanding broke upon her 
 lips. 
 
 "Why !" she said, "we love each other ! We have 
 been very, very busy loving each other, and dancing 
 the bear. I do not believe we ever thought about 
 getting married." 
 
 So serious and obviously sincere was this reply, 
 that Hill scarcely knew whether to laugh or frown. 
 But to refrain from making the patent suggestion 
 was impossible. 
 
 "Why not do it, now that it occurs to you?" 
 said he. 
 
 Rico looked at him earnestly. 
 
 "Do you advise it, Samhillf" he asked. "We 
 could not love each other the more because of a few 
 words said over us !" 
 
 "Very true," replied the painter gravely, "but 
 there is the child to consider. You would like it to 
 bear your name, would you not?" 
 
 "It shall be called Rico if it is a boy," said Anna's 
 lover, "but a girl would be Anna, so what is to be 
 gained in that case?" 
 
 "But your last name," insisted Hill. 
 
 "Last name? But I have none!" objected Rico.
 
 AND COUNTERPLOTS 363 
 
 X 
 
 To gain time, Hill finished off his coffee. 
 
 "It would take a long while to explain just why it 
 is a good plan to be married," said he at last "But 
 if you are willing to take my word for it, allow me 
 to say, that it is good! In fact, I am contemplating 
 doing it myself before very long." 
 
 "Well," said Rico, "if you say it is good, it must 
 be so. We will find a priest if you agree, Anna." 
 
 "I've no objections," replied Anna; and so it was 
 arranged. 
 
 Leaving them to discuss the idea, Hill again fell 
 to planning how best to approach Vanderpool, that 
 he might without unnecessary delay follow the ad- 
 vice that he had just offered to Rico. 
 
 In the midst of an "egg-and-lentils", the idea 
 came to him. Why not go direct to Vanderpool at 
 his office and put the matter frankly before him? 
 Preposterous as the notion seemed at first, the more 
 he thought upon it, the more plausible it appeared. 
 Was there not as good a chance of finding out the 
 truth in this manner as in any other? Vanderpool 
 had agreed to his, Hill's, incarceration it was true, 
 but the reasons for so doing were strong, and his 
 objections had been overruled by the rest of the gang 
 with whom the asphalt magnate had appeared to be
 
 364 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY. 
 
 associated. At any rate, it was worth trying. Van- 
 derpool was aware of the knowledge which he, Hill, 
 possessed, and under any circumstances the latter 
 would be working under a search-light, so to speak, 
 the moment his escape was discovered. On the 
 whole, the notion seemed a good one, for by its exe- 
 cution, nothing could be lost, while much might be 
 gained. 
 
 "And I think," he said aloud, "that I shall take 
 Mr. Jones ; he will make me more conspicuous and, 
 consequently, safer." 
 
 "What's that?" queried Nita. 
 
 "Merely that I am going out now, mother," re- 
 sponded Hill, rising forthwith. 
 
 Out from the dimness and dirt of the back tene- 
 ment, from the low-roofed houses, degraded man- 
 sions of an earlier day, out from the muck and 
 squalor, the slush and grime of unswept Greenwich 
 into the roaring canon of commerce to the east, went 
 Hill, the little brown bear tagging after, and joining 
 with his master the river of humanity that swept 
 between the towering cliffs of granite on either 
 hand; the strange incomprehensible towers, which 
 stretched up, up, higher than one at their feet could 
 see, at a single glance, any more than he could grasp
 
 AND COUNTERPLOTS 365 
 
 their significance with a single thought. Before one 
 of these buildings Hill paused and assuring himself 
 that it was that which he sought, began maneuvers 
 to gain admittance. 
 
 At first there was difficulty with the door-keepers 
 on Mr. Jones' account, but they were successfully 
 persuaded, and he passed them only to be balked by 
 the elevator man. There was more protest than that 
 of the uniformed official to cope with, for Mr. Jones 
 flatly refused to enter the car, and in the end Hill 
 was obliged to leave him in charge of a half-de- 
 lighted, half-frightened portes* 
 
 "Just as well," murmured the painter, as he was 
 spirited upward. "If they have any clap-trap mys- 
 teries about that office, secret dungeons, etc., and I 
 don't come down, they will get tired of holding the 
 bear, and come up after me." 
 
 Even before he had come to this optimistic conclu- 
 sion they reached the twenty-oddth floor, and the 
 offices of United Asphalt Company. 
 
 However, difficulties were not at an end, and it 
 was only after considerable argument and hauteur 
 that Sam succeeded in having his name sent in to the 
 president of the concern. The name, it seemed, was 
 magical in its effect, for almost instantly the super-
 
 366 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 cilious office boy who had condescended to take it in, 
 returned briskly, and invited "Mr. Hill to please to 
 step this way" and so, without more ado, Sam 
 found himself face to face with Iris' father. 
 
 As Hill entered the luxuriously appointed office, 
 the distinguished man at the wide shining desk did 
 not look up until he had finished addressing the let- 
 ter upon which he was engaged. When he had done 
 so, and secured the seal, he turned and faced Hill 
 with the frank direct look that was known to be 
 characteristic of him. 
 
 "Well, Samuel Hill!" he said, "so you have not 
 only escaped, but felt it safest to beard the lion in 
 his den to seek out the conspirator in the midst of 
 the market-place. Why ?" 
 
 For an instant Hill wavered as to what course was 
 best; and then, in view of the attitude with which he 
 himself had come armed, decided to return frank- 
 ness for frankness. 
 
 "I have come because of this," said he simply, 
 taking Iris' manifesto from his pocket and spread- 
 ing it upon the desk before her father. Vanderpool 
 fumbled at the black silk ribbon that secured his 
 eye-glasses, found and adjusted them, and began 
 to read the little paper. When he had come to the
 
 AND COUNTERPLOTS 367 
 
 end, he went back and read it for the second time; 
 and then, spreading it upon his knee, sat looking at 
 it in silence. 
 
 "Well?" said Hill, desiring, at any cost, to come 
 to the point. 
 
 "You love my daughter?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "And she?" 
 
 Hill merely pointed to the paper. 
 
 "She has been distressed about you for some time," 
 said he, "and as you were unwilling to relieve her 
 mind, she decided that you were being victimized 
 in some manner, and so set Pe me to find out the 
 cause of the trouble." 
 
 "Hum !" said Vanderpool. "And why did you not 
 come here this way, in the first place, instead of spy- 
 ing upon my activities disguised as a goodness- 
 knows-what?" 
 
 "Because I knew you would be under no neces- 
 sity to tell me anything unless I already possessed 
 some knowledge," lied Hill with a readiness that 
 surprised himself. 
 
 "Then this is a sort of blackmail?" 
 
 "Not at all !" cried Sam hotly. "I have no wish to 
 use the power which the knowledge I have gives me
 
 368 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 over you though that and the evidence of the 
 friends who rescued me from that beastly hut would 
 be a pretty strong weapon if I chose to use it. But 
 I don't; to do so would be to defeat my own ends 
 and those of Iris. What I want is nothing more than 
 some statement from you, which will enable me to 
 fulfil the conditions of that promise which your 
 daughter has signed. Beyond reassuring her, I give 
 you my word that I shall keep your confidence en- 
 tirely : furthermore, if I can honestly do so, I shall 
 even assist you in your enterprise !" 
 
 Vanderpool arose and began to pace up and down, 
 silently, appearing to consider the proposition that 
 the younger man had just made. Then he stopped 
 abruptly, shooting a direct glance at Hill from un- 
 der his fine brows. He was a man of quick decisions, 
 and he had decided in Hill's favor. 
 
 "I believe you are sincere," he said slowly, "and 
 therefore, I am going to trust you with the whole 
 story. Sit down and smoke if you like no, I prefer 
 to walk." 
 
 The financier continued to pace in silence for a 
 few moments, his white head bowed, his thin youth- 
 ful figure alert and active as a boy's, his handsome
 
 AND COUNTERPLOTS 369 
 
 cameo-like features contracted in thought. Then he 
 spoke abruptly. 
 
 "You have surmised that a revolution was afoot? 
 You are right there is in Venezuela. My asphalt 
 interests are chiefly there. The export-tax, as it 
 stands, would be a drain upon my profits, and os- 
 tensibly that is the reason for my backing this 
 scheme to upset the present government. But there 
 is another reason, a deeper one, known only to my- 
 self and one other Rowe. It concerns a woman, 
 who, he tells me, is kept a prisoner by the now presi- 
 dent of that God-forsaken place. Let me tell you 
 about her. When I first took up this business I went 
 to Venezuela to make my contracts. I got good ones, 
 and I made friends with the dictator a fine old 
 man. He had a very young wife hardly more than 
 a child. I fell in love with her and she with me. She 
 had a child a girl it was, but it was being brought 
 up as a boy because the father had been so bitterly 
 disappointed at having no son . . . and Carmen 
 was faithful to her child and her Husband ... I 
 am glad she was ... I would not have had it 
 otherwise. But we danced together a great deal 
 . . . there was no harm in that . . . Then, one
 
 370 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 night the inevitable, or rather the usual revolution 
 broke out. It broke out in the ballroom . . . where 
 we were waltzing. The orchestra stopped abruptly : 
 all was confusion. I was knocked unconscious while 
 trying to save her husband. When I came to, I was 
 aboard a ship bound for New York. The president 
 was saved, as I learned afterward, but the revolution 
 was successful and he was deposed. Carmen, I 
 heard, was dead. Then, after a while, I married to 
 please my family." 
 
 "Iris' mother?" said Hill. 
 
 "Yes," continued Vanderpool. "She died within 
 a year, leaving the baby ... I was fond of her, 
 in a way, and sorry . . . but I never forgot Car- 
 men. Recently, I came across Rowe, who had been 
 prominent in the affairs of Venezuela during my 
 visits there. He told me that Carmen was not dead. 
 Good God ! that was all he needed to say, 
 but he added that she was being kept a prisoner, 
 to all intents and purposes, by the present govern- 
 ment for fear that the country would rise in fa- 
 vor of her supposed son if she were left free. Now 
 you will understand the situation. I have financed 
 everything. The last boat sails on the early tide,
 
 AND .COUNTERPLOTS 371 
 
 before daylight to-morrow. I have here a letter to 
 my daughter which I thought would sufficiently ex- 
 plain my absence." 
 
 "You are going with them with the revolution- 
 ists !" exclaimed Hill. 
 
 "I am going to rescue Carmen," replied Vander- 
 pool with a wistful smile. 
 
 "And you sail at dawn ! Will you not come with 
 me to the house at once, now, and tell Iris what you 
 have told me," cried Hill excitedly. "By jove! it's 
 a wonderful story ! It will set everything right for 
 me, if you'll only come along !" 
 
 "Impossible!" replied Vanderpool. "There are 
 some vital details yet to be attended to. Besides, I 
 prefer not to return to the house again. The servants 
 have been told I have gone away for some time, and 
 I do not now wish to do anything that will excite 
 the slightest comment." 
 
 "But Great Scott!" exclaimed Hill in dismay, 
 "will you write out a certificate for me to show her 
 as the proof of what I shall tell her?" 
 
 "I heard the young lady giving instructions that 
 you were not to be admitted," said Vanderpool with 
 a twinkle. "Has the order been revoked?"
 
 372 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 "I I don't know," gasped Hill. Then an idea 
 struck him, and he laughed aloud in relief. 
 
 "See here!" he said, "she is going to a costume 
 dance at the Milligans to-night. Couldn't you go 
 there with me just before you leave for the boat, and 
 help me get things straightened out? I know it's a 
 lot to ask, but " 
 
 "But you're not above asking," finished Vander- 
 pool with a laugh. "Yes, I think it could be man- 
 aged. I'll have to go in these clothes, though. Will 
 they let me in?" 
 
 "I'll take care of that!" cried Hill joyfully, "where 
 shall I meet you?" 
 
 "Call for me at the Calumet Club, at about 
 twelve," said Vanderpool. 
 
 "I I don't quite know how to thank you," began 
 Hill, but the other stopped him with a gesture. 
 
 "I have been twenty-five years without the thing 
 I am helping you to get," said he. "Do you sup- 
 pose I want you to wait? Then, too, I rather like 
 the idea of having you for a son-in-law. You'll be 
 good for Iris." 
 
 "Er yes!" said Hill. 
 
 "And now, get out, I'm busy," said Vanderpool, 
 tearing in half the letter that he had just written.
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 A MOMENTOUS EVENING 
 
 DE Bush dined at the Milligans on the night 
 of the masquerade, and beside the great paint- 
 er there were Edwards and little Berry Forest, who 
 paints those fluffy landscapes. Blaume ate there, too, 
 and Theodore Pell, who came in at salad-time, and 
 absent-mindedly ate it all, while he told of seeing 
 Pedro at Beer Peter's place, and of the splendid ar- 
 ticle which he, Pell, had made out of it. And as was 
 the custom of the house, when the coffee-cups had 
 been drained for the second time, Bell Milligan 
 made them all help to clear up, and get the floor 
 waxed, for it was nearly ten o'clock, and before long 
 the guests would begin arriving. 
 
 Bell wore a yellow costume with sparkling things 
 on it, and ornaments of the same sort across her fore- 
 head, and to it she added an all-enveloping gingham 
 apron, while she superintended the arrangements, 
 her frank chaff and the laughter which made her so 
 well beloved by all these famous men, ringing clear. 
 
 373
 
 374 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 The dim red lanterns were lighted, the cellar, with 
 its two famous kegs of October brew, was arranged 
 for those who chose to sit and drink to the accom- 
 paniment of dancing feet upon the studio floor 
 above : the tiny kitchenette was crammed to its utter- 
 most capacity with the good things for supper, and 
 at half past ten precisely the musicians arrived: a 
 thin flutist, a fat German cellist, a dapper dyspeptic 
 pianist, and a temperamental hungry-looking violin- 
 ist. These took up their places around the weather- 
 beaten piano, and tucking their handkerchiefs under 
 their chins, prepared for the strenuous time that 
 was traditional of the Milligans' parties. Around 
 the walls were couches, and between them, on the 
 floor, cushions, to serve as seats. 
 
 "I wonder if there are enough?" said Don, and 
 without waiting for an answer, darted across the 
 alley to take from under the very head of a neigh- 
 bor, the desired articles, with which he presently 
 returned. Meanwhile, De Bush, gray-haired, digni- 
 fied despite his pirate costume, was solemnly sliding 
 over the wax he flung upon the floor, while on the 
 balcony Blaume, the poet-model, and Pell, were giv- 
 ing each other illustrations of the latest Gotch-Hack- 
 enschmidt match, greatly to the detriment of their
 
 A MOMENTOUS EVENING 375 
 
 costumes. Then the first "outside" guest arrived, a 
 lady in the character of the Queen of Sheba. In- 
 stantly she was surrounded by an admiring, clam- 
 oring, teasing group. 
 
 "Am I the first?" asked the lady. 
 
 "No, indeed," said Bell comfortingly, with" as 
 much inanity as the question required. And then, 
 just as the situation was becoming unbearably stupid, 
 as such moments at the beginning of a party al- 
 ways are, the door opened to an Apache, full-painted 
 for war. A wild whoop went up at once, and before 
 it had subsided, the crowd began to stream in, many- 
 colored, noisy, gorgeous or humorous, filling the dim 
 studio with a dream-like throng, alive with move- 
 ment, fraught with the delightful mystery of fa- 
 miliar friends in disguise. The air was full of chat- 
 ter, of laughter, of delighted screams of recognition. 
 "Good Lord! it's Bill! Look what Bill has on! 
 Have you seen Mazie's tights! ! ! Kitty has on a 
 blond wig! yes, it is Ken Harris! Well! look at 
 Mr. De Bush, will you! Hello, Pell, old boy, feel 
 as great a fool as you look?" etc., etc. From the 
 corner where the musicians sat, came an ungodly 
 squeaking and scraping. The perfume of burning 
 incense, of new-lit cigaretteg, of heavy cosmetics and
 
 376 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 camphor, hung in the atmosphere. The hungry 
 violinist readjusted his handkerchief and waved his 
 bow; there was a blast of melody, maddening, en- 
 ticing, and the crowd in the center of the room be- 
 gan to move rhythmically. The guests continued to 
 pour in. 
 
 Among these came Leigh, clad in high boots, 
 rough shirt, and trousers, carrying an ax, his coat 
 thrown over his arm, this costume having been 
 created to emulate the personal appearance of the 
 great American for whom he had been named. 
 
 After a quick word of greeting to Don Milligan, 
 he thrust his impedimenta into a corner, and began 
 to search among the crowd for the face that had 
 haunted him incessantly the eighteen hours past. But 
 although many smiled at him, and beckoned him to 
 join them, he shook his head in refusal, and con- 
 tinued to look for Pedro. 
 
 But Pedro was nowhere to be found, and instead, 
 in a small room opening on to the balcony, he came 
 upon Iris, who, seated upon a divan, was engaged 
 in warding off the eager attentions of Pell, who was 
 determined that she should dance with him. 
 
 "Hello, Iris!" said Leigh, coming up, and at once 
 perceiving that she wished to be rid of the young
 
 A MOMENTOUS EVENING 377 
 
 reporter. "Hello, Pell! get out of this, will you? 
 I've something particular I want to tell Miss Van- 
 derpool." 
 
 "You brigand !" retorted Pell, making a wry face, 
 "what right have you, boarding my ship this way? 
 However, despite my newspaper instinct, I shall 
 withdraw from ear-shot But if you see a paragraph 
 or two about yourselves, don't be surprised !" 
 
 With which witticism he was off. 
 
 "Fresh cub," muttered Leigh. Then to Iris, "May 
 I sit down, or would you rather be left alone?" 
 
 "I no, that is, yes!" said Iris confusedly. "Do 
 sit here beside me, please.. I I feel rather unhappy 
 to-night, and that boy bothered me. What is it that 
 you have to tell me?" 
 
 "Absolutely nothing," said Leigh, sinking down 
 beside her, "it was only a ruse. But I'll try and 
 think up something if you like." 
 
 "Don't trouble!" replied Iris with a little laugh. 
 
 "Perhaps that is, if you like to know will you 
 tell me something?" Leigh responded. 
 
 "That depends," said Iris, patting the shimmering 
 skirt of her costume. "That depends on the nature 
 of the question." 
 
 "I have no question to put," he told her. "It is
 
 378 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 only that I can see you are unhappy, and there must 
 be a reason for it. Now, if you told me that reason, 
 the telling might help you to discern its real sig- 
 nificance." 
 
 ".You say such odd things," she replied, "and such 
 true ones ! In most cases your receipt might work, 
 but, in this one, it won't. You see, my chief trouble 
 is that I have made an awful fool of myself, and 
 talking about it would only make me more fool than 
 ever." 
 
 "Not necessarily," he responded. "For instance, 
 you might have been misled in the first place. You 
 are scarcely responsible for that, and all your fool- 
 ishness might be subsequent and dependent upon 
 such misleading, or deception." 
 
 "That's it exactly!" cried Iris. "Oh! Mr. Leigh, 
 do you think it would be very terrible if I were to 
 tell you something something that involved a 
 third person, I mean? It would ease my mind so, 
 and I must have advice! My father has gone off 
 somewhere, and there is no one else. Do you think 
 I might?" 
 
 "I think you might," replied Leigh slowly. "I 
 think it would do no harm to tell me if it concerned 
 one particular person. I mean Pedro !"
 
 A MOMENTOUS EVENING 379 
 
 "So you know!" cried Iris, violently agitated. 
 "You know! And I never even guessed, and went 
 on making love to him . . . her, that is, and 
 couldn't understand why he she didn't like it. And 
 oh! more than that, I did terrible things; that is, 
 they would have been terrible if Pedro had been a 
 man. I went there alone. The model told me I 
 ought not to, and why; but I was mad I did not 
 really understand what she meant. And then, last 
 night" her voice sank to a whisper and she kept 
 looking fixedly at the floor. "Last night I went to 
 Pedro's studio again alone ... I was desperate 
 ... I didn't clearly know what I was doing. And 
 he (that was before I knew), Pedro, told me plainly, 
 right out plainly . . . and I didn't care . . . 
 and at last he had to confess he was a girl . . . 
 and oh! Mr. Leigh, do you think Sam will ever 
 forgive me for being such a wicked fool? And do 
 you think he will ever come back so that I can tell 
 him how sorry I am that I ever picked that silly 
 wrong-headed quarrel with him? Oh! do you?" 
 
 Leigh's voice shook with emotion as he answered 
 her, and he was glad that she did not look him in the 
 face as he spoke, for he knew that at the moment its 
 expression had got beyond his power of control.
 
 380 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 "Yes," he said unsteadily, "it will all come right!" 
 
 He got to his feet, and took an uncertain step or 
 two, the words she had just uttered concerning 
 Pedro still ringing in his brain. The pace or two 
 had, however, brought him facing the door. In it 
 his eyes met a sight that would ordinarily have 
 been sufficient to fill him with amazement, but Leigh 
 was too much stunned by Iris' unconscious confirma- 
 tion to feel any further emotion just then. But he 
 managed to speak, and the words aroused Iris like 
 magic. 
 
 "Yes," he said feebly, "I think you will have the 
 opportunity of apologizing, for here comes Sam 
 Hill now!" 
 
 Then they both stared hard at the door, where, 
 sure enough, Sam was standing, disguised as a bear- 
 trainer, every detail of his costume complete, down 
 to the very bear itself. Iris gave a little cry. He 
 was smiling at her, and behind him shadowed the 
 tall figure of her father. She turned to her lover, 
 her hands outstretched. 
 
 "Samuel!" she said brokenly, and was gathered 
 into his arms. 
 
 "Samuel, beloved of the Lord !" muttered Leigh, 
 as he reeled out on to the balcony like a drunken
 
 A MOMENTOUS EVENING 381 
 
 man. From the floor below came the rhythmic 
 stamp of many heels, and the tinkling tune of the 
 Spanish. 
 
 In the little room a few explications were taking 
 place. 
 
 "Sam, my son-to-be," said Vanderpool, "it seems 
 to me that you needed neither my presence nor your 
 document." 
 
 And Iris, still clinging to her lover, was sufficient- 
 ly curious to ask : 
 
 "What document, father?" 
 
 "Why this!" explained Hill, taking her pledge 
 from his breast pocket with his free hand, and show- 
 ing it to her. 
 
 "That?" exclaimed Iris. 
 
 "Of course, dearest !" beamed Sam. "Your father 
 here will explain everything and help me fulfil the 
 conditions but you seem surprised. Didn't you 
 send it to me?" 
 
 With slow-dawning understanding, she looked 
 from the document to his happy face. 
 
 "Of course I did, dear," said she, hereby uttering 
 her first wifely fib. "And are you really safe, 
 daddy?"
 
 382 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY, 
 
 "I am in no danger of which I am aware," said 
 Vanderpool. "Hill has the whole story, and I shall 
 let him tell it." 
 
 "Then everything is all right !" cried Hill. "Come 
 on, let's get out of this. Let's go to your house." 
 
 "Yes," assented Iris, wherewith the lovers went 
 away, unheedful of the lonely man who bade them 
 Godspeed, or of the bear, who had fallen asleep in 
 a dark corner. 
 
 Meanwhile, Leigh, his heart like to burst with a 
 hundred culminated emotions, sat by the balcony 
 rail, and scanned the crowd in eager search for 
 Pedro. From this vantage-point he saw Iris and 
 Samuel take their departure, and then the music 
 stopped. There was a fluttering of hands, the ripple 
 of applause died away, and the crowd broke up into 
 groups, who laughed and ate with as little concern as 
 though the world had not been changed forever for 
 Leigh. Suddenly a strange thing happened. 
 
 The center of the floor was for the moment clear, 
 and the musicians had retuned their instruments. 
 Then, above the gay murmur of the human voices 
 wailed the voice of the violin, the accompaniment 
 throbbing softly below. For a moment or two no
 
 A MOMENTOUS EVENING 383 
 
 one danced, held back by that unwillingness to be 
 the first which always follows the opening strains of 
 a new measure. Then Leigh became conscious that a 
 hush had fallen upon the crowd. 
 
 The street door had been thrown wide, and from 
 the darkness without there emerged the figure of a 
 woman. Her garments were of frail silks torn and 
 mud-stained, and pitifully inadequate to protect her 
 from the cold. Her golden head was uncovered, and 
 disheveled, and from below its tumbled glory, her 
 eyes shone bright and feverish from the dark-ringed 
 sockets. But she seemed unconscious of her plight, 
 and of the stares of wonderment that she invoked. 
 
 It was Carmen Daussa, tremulous with joy at 
 finding the only house in the great cruel city where 
 she possessed friends, where she might ask for help 
 and shelter. At recognition of her, a breath of ad- 
 miration went up from the audience, which swiftly 
 changed to an expression of amazement as Vander- 
 pool emerged from the extreme other end of the 
 room. Then, as though drawn by an irresistible 
 power, they advanced, seeing no one but each other, 
 caring for no one else, totally unconscious of the ex- 
 istence of the crowd, speaking no word, uttering no 
 cry, but coming nearer and nearer, swifter and
 
 384 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 swifter, as though impelled by a fate they had no 
 thought to resist And then, in the center of the 
 gleaming floor they met, and, wordless still, he took 
 her in his arms. And when the music stopped ab- 
 ruptly, she called his name, and he bent and kissed 
 her on the mouth. 
 
 Once the spell which had held them snapped with 
 the cessation of the waltz, the people crowded about 
 the two, all talking, complimenting, explaining, 
 laughing, pushing: and while this was at its height 
 the studio door opened to admit the long sought for, 
 slender figure, and Pedro was seen to inquire some- 
 thing of Bell Milligan. At her response, Pedro ap- 
 parently thanked her, and disappearing among the 
 crowd, quickly returned with the bear at heel, and 
 vanished. 
 
 With a stifled cry Leigh sprang up, and hastily 
 gaining the lower floor, crossed rapidly to Bell, 
 who was deeply absorbed in explaining something to 
 Pell, and who had to be shaken by the shoulder be- 
 fore she would answer Leigh's question. 
 
 "Where did Pedro go?" 
 
 "I good gracious, such a performance! Did you 
 ever " gasped Bell "where did Pedro go? He 
 went home to pack."
 
 A MOMENTOUS EVENING 385 
 
 "Home to pack!" shouted Leigh. "Good lord!" 
 And without even waiting to find his hat, he 
 
 rushed out into the alley and started madly off in 
 
 the direction of Muldoon Place.
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 THE BEGINNING 
 
 BY the light of a single candle, Pedro was pack- 
 ing a little knapsack with the meager belong- 
 ings that his sojourn in the old studio had brought 
 together. He went about the task with reluctance, 
 but with the weary resignation of those who receive 
 an unalterable decree from fate, and recognize it as 
 such. 
 
 One by one his little personal things were tucked 
 away in the ancient traveler's-kit a book or two, 
 some linen, brushes, a gay necktie, and a miniature 
 plaster cast of Leigh's "sleeping bear". When these 
 had been put in, and still a little room remained, he 
 hesitated a moment, and then, going to the heap of 
 sketches and small canvases with which the rack 
 was filled, deliberated among them for a while; 
 taking up first this one and then that, with loving 
 hands, and throwing each in turn back upon the 
 shelf from whence it came. Finally a sorrowful 
 shake of the head dismissed them all. 
 
 386
 
 THE BEGINNING 387 
 
 "Of what use to take any?" said Pedro aloud. 
 But nevertheless, he stood brooding over them for 
 quite a time. . . . 
 
 By the fire lay Mr. Jones, blinking sympathet- 
 ically. With a sigh Pedro turned at last from these 
 children of his mind, and set about arranging the 
 two rooms the studio and bedroom exactly as he 
 had found them. 
 
 In the first place there were the pictures his pic- 
 tures! From the big easel the "Madonna Lady" 
 smiled wanly upon her young creator a beautiful, 
 crude, unfinished thing, its possibilities beckoning 
 enticingly from behind the haze of its incomplete- 
 ness. Then there were the others. Significantly 
 Pedro glanced from them in the direction of the fire- 
 place, and heaved another sigh. No ! that was impos- 
 sible; infanticide! It could not be done! Yet, who 
 would care for them. . . . Leigh? Perhaps. Piling 
 them high, and topping them with the ever-smiling 
 portrait of Iris, he stacked them neatly, near the 
 door, and writing "For A. L. Leigh" on a folded bit 
 of paper, left this message a-top the heap. 
 
 Next, he restored the furniture to its original ar- 
 rangement as nearly as he could remember it, and 
 bringing forth Hill's canvases from the cubby in
 
 3 88 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 which most of them had been reposing, set them 
 around, even as he had found them, down to putting 
 the unfinished portrait of the banker upon the throne 
 from which the Madonna had just been taken. 
 When this was done, the studio took on such an 
 unfamiliar atmosphere that a lump arose in Pedro's 
 throat. It seemed such a concrete representation of 
 how completely his claim here had ended! With 
 apparent irreverence he suddenly went over and 
 knelt beside the bear, taking the creature's head 
 between his hands, while tears started to his eyes. 
 
 "Poor fellow! Poor Mr. Jones!" said Pedro 
 huskily, and then, having patted Mr. Jones upon the 
 nose several times, arose slightly comforted. 
 
 The bedroom came next in order, and from press 
 and bureau Hill's clothing, which had been laid 
 away with so much care, was hauled out and hung 
 in its accustomed place, each minor detail being at- 
 tended to with care. 
 
 When all was accomplished, the worker came to 
 the doorway where he had paused on that long- 
 past autumn morning of his first awakening there, 
 and stood gazing for the last time upon what had 
 been the field of his labors these many months ; and 
 as he looked about, it seemed as though his heart
 
 THE BEGINNING 389 
 
 would break at the thought of leaving it. But go 
 he must. 
 
 Clenching his hands, he called himself a fool, 
 speaking aloud in his pain. For a moment the wild 
 hope came to him that he might, after all, stay on ; 
 or, at least, return ; and then with renewed clearness 
 the urgent reasons for departure came surging back. 
 His secret, which Iris knew, was no longer safe. 
 His mother, whose entreaties he dared not face, was 
 living in the very same city, and might at any 
 moment meet with him. Then there was Hill. He 
 had found Iris, and all must be well between them, 
 for had not Bell Milligan told how they had gone 
 off together? This happy occurrence would end 
 Hill's reasons for staying away. More, the painter 
 had returned Mr. Jones, the only pledge Pedro had 
 given him, thereby ending the bargain. Then, too, 
 in a few weeks it would be spring, and the hedge- 
 rows would awaken, new-clad in green, and the 
 broad highway would call and call. . . . 
 
 "But none of these is the great reason!" cried 
 Pedro aloud. "Holy Mother! have mercy upon me! 
 The real reason is Leigh! It is he, it is he whom 
 I can not endure to leave! Yet go I must Suppose 
 he should suspect me ! What would he say to such as
 
 390 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 I a wild hoiden thing who has defied and broken 
 all the ties of womanhood ? Holy Madonna! Have 
 pity!" 
 
 His arms flew wide, as if to embrace the knees 
 of the Virgin, and his face was drawn with anguish. 
 
 "I can never atone for my actions!" he thought 
 "If he discovers that I am a woman, he will always 
 despise me! Better leave to him the memory of a 
 boy friend whom he loved and who ran away !" 
 
 Then, gathering up his courage, he went a final 
 round of the dearly loved workshop, caressing each 
 object as he passed, as though it had been animate. 
 Everywhere were things that reminded him of 
 Leigh. There they had sat and talked on such a 
 night; here he had perched while he showed some 
 tricks of technique; together they had stood at this 
 window looking over the roof-tops at the city which 
 they had talked of beautifying, and beside this table 
 he had often drawn a chair, when they sat down to 
 share a scanty meal and an abundance of talk on 
 subjects dear to them. Oh! it was too cruel, too 
 full of poignant memories, this place! Nothing 
 was to be gained by tarrying, but wounds, fresh 
 wounds, added to that which he was doomed to carry 
 forever! Since going was inevitable, best go
 
 THE BEGINNING 391 
 
 quickly and be done. To run away down the dark 
 stair, along the cold street away, away, to the blos- 
 soming Southland and the search for forgetfulness. 
 With set lips he put on hat and coat, extinguished 
 the candle, and by the dim glow of the banked fire, 
 began to gather up the belt of the knapsack. Then 
 a sound on the staircase caused his heart to give a 
 great leap, after which it seemed to stop beating 
 altogether. Nearer and nearer came the familiar 
 step, and then, without pause it crossed the landing 
 and the door was burst open to admit the towering 
 figure of Abraham Lincoln Leigh'. 
 
 "Are you there?" the deep voice asked command- 
 ingly, as the man peered into the gloom. 
 
 "I yes !" answered Pedro weakly. 
 
 "Thank God!" exclaimed Leigh. Then, as his 
 eyes became accustomed to the darkness, he placed 
 
 her. 
 
 "I was just going," began Pedro faintly, "I " 
 
 "Sit down beside me," said Leigh gently but 
 firmly, "I want to say several things to you." 
 
 "Yes, but" protested the girl. 
 
 "Sit down, my dear," said Leigh, striking a light. 
 
 There was a tense silence while he lit the lamp,
 
 392 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 the soft g|ow presently revealing them to each 
 other. Then Pedro slowly obeyed the strangely put 
 command, and they sat silently for a long moment, 
 looking into each other's eyes with that perfect un- 
 derstanding that had been theirs from the first. 
 Oh ! how could she have doubted him for an instant? 
 There was no misunderstanding the meaning of that 
 "dear" nor of the tone in which he had spoken it. 
 A wild tingling sensation began to dance through 
 her veins, and at the light in his eyes a deep flush 
 began to creep over her face, feminine enough now, 
 despite its frame of close-cut curls. At length she 
 spoke, never taking her eyes from his. 
 
 "So you know," she said superfluously. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "How long have you known ?" 
 
 "In my secret consciousness, from the beginning 
 of time," he answered her. "Since last night, in 
 actual realization. Why, I've been in love with you 
 all these months, but I did not understand it, owing 
 to" 
 
 He indicated her clothing and again she blushed 
 a swift crimson this time. 
 
 "And you don't don't despise me?" she asked, 
 ashamed.
 
 " I shall come when the violets are in bloom."
 
 THE BEGINNING 393 
 
 "No, I don't despise you : I want to marry you," 
 he replied. "What is your name?" 
 
 "Pedro I never had another, excepting Daussa 
 y. St. Tron, of course. But . . . do you mean it?" 
 
 "That is the first utterly dull remark I ever heard 
 you make," observed Leigh. "Now, when shall it 
 be? To-morrow? It's a little late to-night !" 
 
 "No!" she cried, springing up. "Not to-night; 
 not to-morrow ; I must go away !" 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "Iris knows about me; and think of the talk! 
 vhat would your friends say? Oh! believe me, I 
 inust go away until I can come back as myself," she 
 Said distractedly. 
 
 His face was stern as he replied. 
 
 "I can usually see the reasons you put forth," said 
 he; "but I can not feel that there is any need for 
 you to go." 
 
 "Ah," she pleaded, "but / do ! Let me come back 
 as myself as a woman, and as a woman should. I 
 want to ; can't you understand ?" 
 
 "Yes I think perhaps I do," said he slowly. 
 "And in the meanwhile?" 
 
 "I shall be with Rico and Anna," she said, "until 
 they have the baby. They can be together all the
 
 394 THE IMPOSSIBLE BOY 
 
 meantime, if I dance the bears and bring in the 
 money for them ; and then I shall slip away and bid 
 the road farewell. . . ." 
 
 Then he did see. Saw all that the life of the road 
 had meant to her, all that she would give up ... 
 for him ... He got to his feet rather unsteadily, 
 and at the look on his face she, too, sprang up, half- 
 frightened, to escape him. But retreat was useless, 
 and then, smothered in his mighty arms, Pedro re- 
 ceived her first kiss. . . . 
 
 It was an hour later that they crept down the dark 
 stairway and swung the door open to the faint glow 
 of coming day. "When will you come back, Pedro 
 oh ! when will you come back?" he whispered pas- 
 sionately. 
 
 "I shall come," said Pedro, "when the violets are 
 in bloom ; when it is full spring, I shall return." 
 
 Then she shifted the little knapsack into place 
 across her shoulder and alone stepped off into the 
 grayness, the little bear shuffling along at her heels. 
 
 The morning was bleak and chill, but Leigh 
 stood quite motionless long after she had passed 
 from sight; stood motionless until the housetops 
 flamed with the coming sun, until the dawn was 
 painted like unto the glory of love; and then he
 
 THE BEGINNING 395 
 
 smiled, and, throwing back his head, sniffed the keen 
 air as though he could already scent the unborn 
 violets of that distant spring. 
 
 THE END
 
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